THE ALLY WITHIN YOUR RANKS
by SuperMudz
Two experimental laser weapons of some kind were being unloaded off the back of the V-HUMM utility truck, marked with marine corps signs. A couple of irregular detachments from Alpha Squadron, but these boys looked different from the normal ranks. Must be a special corps, he surmised when he saw them.
Couple of big lads in armour – must have been part of the new marauder corps. Sporting a hand cannon that looked like it could blow a hole right through a regular marine, they stood easily a couple of feet taller. It was impressive.
He watched them unload their gear, and then they brought out the real stars of the show. Turning the military compound into some kind of research grounds -or just testing out their latest pets.
One of the things, what they called a "Roach", big and nasty, thrashing against its restraints with serrated jaws and flailing spider-like limbs, was fitted with some kind of cybernetic collar and neural graft that they were using to control the thing.
He felt fear, cold and pure, shake through him, and he shuddered in instinctive revulsion and disgust. Imagine the disgust a man feels when he spots an unusually large spider suddenly in the palm of his hand, and then imagine how he feels when that spider is suddenly larger than he is and staring at him with a myriad of searching eyes.
He shuddered. The UED had been bad – he didn't forget that, he saw enough action to have developed a very strong personal opinion on it – but it looked like the Dominion were continuing their little zerg taming experiments. He didn't much like it. Dammit he wished he hadn't quite drinking. Or smoking. Not much else to do out here but try to better yourself, but he was thinking maybe he could lower his standards a little bit. Being sober while the zerg were around was a memory you didn't want to keep.
They led it before them like a dog, hitting it with electric prods, and keeping rifles trained on it at all times.
Magistrate Tam wasn't big on the Dominion landing their giant boot right on his spot – they may be the legitimate authority, but so far neither it nor its predecessor, the Confederacy, had been of any use with his troubles. Keeping peace on this little shit-ball had been more trouble than the Guild Wars that started it. Bunch of folks coming from all kinds of factions and couldn't let old hatreds die. He didn't give two craps himself – someone started trouble, he'd just throw them in a cell until they let it go.
It worked, after a fashion. The place wasn't any prettier, but they were all getting used to each other. His parents had been Umojan colony, he was never involved in the first place, but he was assigned the place so he had to make do, working with the local marshals.
Technically, he was Dominion – but practically speaking, he was colonial militia. Been here for eight years – only called out for a couple of duties. His extended family was in more political circles, but he had been content to run his own errands, so to speak. Still, they reached out from time to time, to make sure he really meant what he said.
He sighed. It was going to be his job to make sure the zerg didn't eat everybody. He dipped his hat, and prepared for the landing committee that'd be headed his way.
(*)
"Shit!" he heard one shout in panick. "Don't let it burrow!"
Captain Arius Rex could see it, those ancient zerg instincts combined with whatever new animal it was, coming to the fore, it was searching the ground, it was clear as day what its intent was. If it burrowed, it'd be gone – worse than that, they'd suddenly have an invisible predator in the grounds, digging out where it chose and ambushing them when they were vulnerable or alone. Without proper equipment and preparation, it'd slaughter them like an assassin – they'd all be dead. They'd have to blast out of there and bomb the place as contaminated.
It had been ten days – it had rained, it had hailed, storms had suddenly blown in from the west – in short, it had been a very sudden introduction to a special little hell. Only a few days, but already more mess than he might be able to handle. And he was the one that was going to get shafted for it, he already knew that.
He had moved with the rest of the team to meet the commanding officer on-site. A flag had gone up – marking it as a new Dominion site – not just under its authority, but now they were moving in to take personal charge of it. Local militia looked at them, varying between hostility, suspicion, and interest, in no particular preference.
He'd have to talk to the goddamn garrison captain again, he knew.
They managed to get it under control, dousing it with an almost full charge from its collar, and pulled it back up with the magno-leashes. Almost needed a truck to pull the things out once they got a bit in their teeth, half up to their roach asses in the dirt. But electricity and sometimes a concussion bomb got things moving. The things were tougher than anything he'd seen.
On some level – he was excited to see them in action. That's what they brought them here for. A small field's test. It was isolated, and no-one gave a rat's ass about this colony. They could blow it and all it's colonists to kingdom come and it'd be little more than another unfortunate note on a wall somewhere. They didn't have time to play nice. Zerg were out there somewhere – and the protoss, too – they needed every kind of weapon they could get. Those aliens didn't play nice with anybody.
(*)
"Dominion wants you off the planet." He said from behind his glasses. It was an abrupt greeting.
"It's my planet, I'll leave when I damn well please." The magistrate replied. He brought out a box of cigars, prepared to make a point. "Did they tell you why?" he asked as well.
He located his favourite oil lighter, embossed with a design of Tellus, his home planet. He wished he had his baseball cap, that was the only thing he missed. Signed by Artul Artemis himself, back in '492.
"Want a carrot?" he interrupted, before the Captain, "Captain Arius", could reply. "Nothing like the taste of fresh carrots," he said. "Bred from original Earth stock, you know. We had the stock brought in on the first hydroponic transports."
The soldier looked down in distaste. "Experimental horticulture isn't my field, magistrate. And perhaps you should be a little less eager to barter around with… Earth cuisine."
He took a big, noisy bite, non-plussed. "Why's that? You figger people don't love the Dominion or something?"
The man reached over and closed the box, and something in his movement made the Magistrate suddenly a little more thoughtful.
"Let's just say we like to know where people's loyalties lie."
After a moment, Tam laughed – genuinely and sincerely, and didn't stop, even under the man's displeased gaze, until he was wiping a tear from his eye.
"Man, it's easy to forget sometimes – look at you, real badass tough from the Dominion, but you're still too young to remember what it was like in the Confederacy. Yeah, I've heard it all before. Hell, I said it myself a lot. So, before you go getting excited, it won't work on me. I don't use it much, but I still have family in the right places. Even if you made me disappear because I looked at you wrong, or a little too funny or something, it won't take long for you to disappear too."
He coughed, and considered a cigar. "I've had twelve years to prove my loyalty – and I'm not in the mood for games, when you've got those Goddamn things running around in my compound."
I'm a captain, not a goddamn spy. The man thought in response, but didn't voice it.
"This is the Dominion. Not the First Families."
"Yeah, so that means that you've got some problems. Not me. I've been around long enough that that kind of thing sticks. It's still a lot of the same people sitting up at those tables."
And the young man did look a little disconcerted at that. Figures. They were all a type, but throw them into anything they didn't understand, they were just like anyone else. Dangerous, but all the same.
"Nice to know that experience counts for something. So speak to me with a little goddamn respect, because I'm your superior officer you little pissant." He knew he could get away with it, and it made him feel better to swear at the little prick.
"Fine." The man sighed. "You've made your point. But I will be reporting this to my higher ups. Perhaps they can find some persuasive authority that you'll accept, and we can dispense with this very obvious charade of fighting across the fences."
Magistrate Tam shrugged at that. And offered another carrot. "Try one. First of the season."
The man didn't reply, but just left.
He scowled as the Dominion liaison left behind the captain; thinking. He didn't trust any of them. None of their glasses reflected the light properly. He suspected they were an unspoken corps of spies. Maybe even some kind of ghost corps. He shuddered. The captain was probably on the level, but that didn't make him any better.
It wasn't that he wasn't scared of them – he just spoke the truth. And he was a military man – he'd meet his fate standing up when it came. That was a decision he had made long ago.
He coughed again, and replaced the cigar back into its box. No need for the theatre at this point, he decided. He just realised then that he had forgotten to wait for an answer to his question. Oh well.
He didn't even notice as something splattered across his window.
(*)
The captain had already debriefed the unit on their mission parameters – they had gotten strong intel of Kel-Morian pirates using a local cave system, mostly using the world as a smugglers' hold, but they had come into town from time to time, the magistrate said.
"Right, our first scout patrol is taking us about two miles north. 0600 hours – be in your gear." The captain had said.
"Right, sir." He had saluted. He's hit the rack early then. Get a shower, a good meal, then be up an hour early. Hated starting the day still trying to shake off sleep and popping stims. Wasn't a good habit either. People lost legs that way.
The unit was out that morning at 0600 sharp. There was fifteen of them, three marauder class and twelve marines, including the sergeant and captain. And two specialists, that were leading three "Roaches" before them. Field test. The marauders didn't speak – he didn't know why – but they were there to put down the Roaches if they had to – and they were packing firepower that'd make a combat walker blush. The line between power armoured infantry and mobile artillery narrowed more every day.
They were joined by two combat walkers, mk-II Goliaths, halfway to the assault. It did not take long to make the rest of the way – they used powersleds to move the troops quickly and quietly, using a route less likely to be detected. If they were lucky, the Kel-Morians wouldn't even realise it. They might have detected the incoming dropships, but perhaps not enough for them to believe they should be concerned about it. With a battlecruiser in orbit they'd be keeping their heads low anyway.
"Kel-Morian battle camp ahead," the captain told his men after a little personal scouting – he had studied the terrain so well that he felt more comfortable doing it. "I called in an artillery strike – no need to be finicky."
The thunder came down, spitting the defenses and sending their soldiers running in a panick. The squad was quick to follow up.
The goliaths blew the place wide open, along with shell after shell fired from marauder hand launchers, and it all went up in fire. That was the easy part – the pirates were already retreating deeper.
"Sorta thing we might be doing against the raiders, eh?" a marine piped up.
"If you're lucky enough to see that kinda action, maggot," the sergeant replied. He had a short temper, but his men liked him anyway. He was a tough coot.
(*)
"Alright, they're running. Time to bring out the Roaches and dig them out. Marauders, lead point."
A marauder smiled from behind his helmet, and aimed one powerful turbine-boosted arm launcher. Who needed hands when you had guns? That was apparently their motto. He had seen the specs for himself and admitted he felt a little outclassed when around them, which rankled a little bit. He was used to standing taller than everyone else except his buddies in a power suit, but not being leaned over by them.
They entered the tunnel, leading the Roaches before them.
"I think they smell something."
The zerg had a myriad of acute senses, he could see their all too-alive "faces" twitching and moving – things had like a million wire-tough hairs that could pick up vibrations a mile distant or something.
"What'd they need such big heads for, anyway?" Wilfur commented sarcastically as the unit moved in. "Zerg are stupid anyway. They need it for head-butting or something?"
"That's not their head, jackass. You just can't see it when they tuck them in."
"Hell, if they can't do it, we'll just send you in," his buddy Tom interrupted, like he always did. "Figure you have a harder head."
They laughed until the sergeant shushed them. "You must all be stupid – keep smart, grunts. Kel-Morians didn't dig that deep, keep an eye out."
"The bastards should have any kind of armour – let's split up, it's too narrow in here. Tom, Wilfur – take one of the Roaches and scout ahead – they won't be expecting that. Kulls and I will split up two more groups. If you spot something, call it in, and we'll converge. Otherwise, our rendezvous is the main cabin – but stay out of the open until I say it's clear. Got it?"
There was a chorus of acknowledgement. The sergeant took the Roaches and two marauders and a couple of marines – the tunnels forcing them to move almost single file. Kulls took eight marines and held back – guarding the tunnels at their back, and posting two of them outside with a marauder.
It was the perfect situation for some zerg mayhem, but now they'd be working for the Dominion.
They played it safe, with mag-rails – firing rockets down every corridor where something so much as moved, when there was space enough. They left mines and explosives in strategic places rather than risk walking the marines into ambushes. Power armour made them into tough business, but they didn't mean they should take foolish chances.
"Hoo, shit! Look at them go!"
They watched the Roaches move with frightening rapidity, and in a moment were suddenly upon the defenders.
Marcus, one of the specialists, wiped his brow. "Well, that sure takes care of that."
Sergeant gave him a thumbs up. "Looking good so far, eh?"
Blood and dismembered limbs were suddenly flying to screams, and they winced as they held their fire. Didn't want to hit their own Roaches. But not even marines were cold enough not to feel discomfort.
"It's necessary, boys," the sarge said. "If we want to win this war."
Against whom, though? Rex wondered. These are just Terrans. But he didn't argue with his subordinate.
(*)
The group continued moving, with the scouts moving ahead. They found the Kel-Morians and shot them down. The Roaches continued to turn up hidden bulks, and sense ambushes, and the Dominion marines discovered that it was actually going pretty much according to plan.
The captain paused as the tunnels got more narrower and branched off.
"You two take the tunnels with one of the hounds – we'll finish up here. See if any of them tried to escape, or if they're hiding some escape ships in there or something." Said Captain Arius.
"You got it, boss."
The two marines went ahead. Neither of them were comfortable leading the roach, even with its inhibitor under their control.
They found and shot down a few stragglers. Hard to say if they were there to fight, or just some of the crew trying to stay out of the way – either way, the marines didn't stop to find out.
Tom made a face. "Man, that makes one hell of a mess. Pretty much just red wallpaper in there," he reported.
The radio crackled and the sergeant asked for a report. "No real resistance, boss."
Suddenly, auto-fire blasted out. They moved, and in a smooth motion destroyed the automated defense with twin gauss rifle fire.
"Ambush." Tom breathed.
"Oh shit, where did the zerg go?"
They realised suddenly that they had lost their little pet.
"Shit." His breath came out in a cold fog. It was gone. And with it, their one likely defense against whatever lay within. They tried using the short range inhibitor for the shock collar a few times, but it gave no results. Either it was already out of range, or it didn't care or understand.
Feeling naked and vulnerable, the two men continued in with scanners and rifles at full power.
He clicked it off. "They're gone."
(*)
While the disappearance of their zerg "hounds" was a problem, the rest of the mission went without a hitch – although the captain and sergeant were swearing about the mishap the whole way. It'd be a big problem if they couldn't recover those assets.
When they emerged, swearing about the adventure gone wrong, they discovered they had bigger problems. Much much bigger problems. Private Hickson came over to them after performing a routine check-in while the rest of the squad went through equipment checks.
"Something's wrong, cap – I'm not getting a response from camp."
"What do you mean?"
The private shrugged. "Just that. No-one's answering. No signal."
The captain swore. "You think the Kel-Morians had a reserve force? Hit the base?"
Nobody thought so – they had prepared this operation very carefully.
"Alright, let's call the cruiser – see if they know what's going on."
"No response there either, sir," was the result, and now the private looked scared. It hit the captain hard, too. He didn't understand it. Sergeant wondered if they had some kind of rebellion on their hands, but there was nothing on this planet that could so much as scratch the ego on the Nautilus. And its captain was above reproach. So he had hoped.
Private Bairnes saw it first. Then the rest of them did, too. Then they saw what was above them. Small flecks of black against a dimming sky. It did not take them long to figure out what they were seeing. They had seen it before. On worlds where they had been dispatched with armies – not a small operational squad on a lump of empty rock. That's why they had come here in the first place – and the realisation hit them all like a Battlecruiser's nuclear weapon.
Shouting immediately broke out as they tried to understand what was going on.
"It's the goddamn Zerg! They called them here somehow!"
"What the fuck are you talking about – they're just a bunch of fucking roaches!"
"Well fucking look, you stupid idiot!" Invention for words failed him, as they stared at the things descending from orbit, and they realised they were truly fucked themselves.
"Get to the site!" the captain barked. They moved like their lives depended on it – and you had never seen a more disciplined squad than when under a barrage of zerg. All that training counted for something when it was time.
They had to leave the experimental weapons behind – even the marauders couldn't haul them that far and fast enough. They had lost a power sled, and half of them had to walk. It took them over two hours, but eventually they were approaching the compound.
(*)
His heart sank. The promise of safety was squandered. He saw the man, standing under the light, his limbs at odd angles. He didn't need a scan to tell him something was wrong.
There was no blare of sirens, and some of the flood-lights were even active. No turrets or SAM sites were being activated. But he saw bodies. He saw something moving.
He… no… it looked around at them. Worse than a traitor, they spotted the thing moving near his neck, and knew what had happened. He wasn't human anymore.
"You led us into this trap!" he shouted, despite his instinct that warned him that Tam wasn't a man anymore, not something to be reasoned with. He didn't know that he was wrong, and it didn't matter. He shuddered. In that grin and eyes, it's like the Swarm had found a human vessel with whom to look at him with, and the loathing that the Roach inspired in him suddenly paled. It was like meeting the Devil in person.
"I guess it's that human factor you don't account for." The magistrate replied. There was something wrong with his voice, and Arius felt afraid.
"Still concerned about my loyalty?" and he laughed, and seemed to take pleasure in the fact there was nothing human in that sound. The sergeant had never seen it before. He had seen infested terrans – but always from on the other side of a battlefield, creepy monsters with the faces of the humans they had infested… Terrifying, but clearly zerg. He was told it took days, if not weeks, for the process to take place – and they looked like the monsters they were when it was done.
"The price you pay for beauty," it grinned, wet tendrils moving around what was left of "his" mouth.
More of the alien things were coming out of orbit, some sort of zerg drop-pods, the overlords moving closer like dark blossoms on the wind, and the tiny squad of marines and marauders realised that was the end for them.
So that was the result of the experiment. He laughed. Maybe they were always smart.
THE END