"I believe I've figured it out, Izsha." Kerrigan was staring into the stars, beyond the millions of Zerg collected around her Leviathan and the other Leviathans in its company.
"My Queen?" Iszha tilted her head, curious of what her Queen could be speaking about.
"When the Overmind created me, why do you think I didn't turn out like the other Terrans it infested? I was not special."
"You are powerful, my Queen. So strong."
"Not at the start." Kerrigan held a clawed finger aloft, her eyes focused on a star out in space as she thought. Izsha was some of the only conversation the Zerg Queen could get, and these kinds of conversations were not abnormal. "I was weak, my mind was soft from the changes, I even needed to raid a Ghost training facility to undo what had been done to my mind by my fellow Terrans."
"How did you become strong?"
"Time. Gradual integration into the Swarm. There was the Overmind who controlled the cerebrates, and the cerebrates controlled their broods. I was given a small brood and had little control." Curling her hand into a fist and resting it at her side, Kerrigan grinned in remembrance. "But Zeratul began killing the cerebrates, and more of the swarm fell under my sway. I evolved to be able to handle more. That was the key, Izsha."
"Terrans require time to become accustomed to the mind of the swarm?"
"Yes. It requires a stronger mind than an average person, perhaps. But it is working on Jims little friends."
"You are truly the strongest leader the swarm could hope to have, my Queen." Kerrigan smirked, pleased with herself. On the Hyperion, Matt was wakening from his long nightmare.
Every man awake on the Hyperion heard Matts yell as he jerked into consciousness, and they all reacted differently. Egon resolutely ignored it as the door to his darkened lab opened in front of him, the glowing eyes of Shlassa regarded him silently. This was an opportunity to speak with the broodmother without being hassled by the other men, it would not be lost.
"You have questions. I am to answer them." Egon was immediately surprised by the verbal approach the broodmother took. "I am unable to communicate with only you, and so we shall speak." In truth, it was an anomaly that Shlassa did not like. The Terrans really were weak. Stetmann wasn't sure where to begin.
Tychus was still on the athletic field, unbending the steel weightlifting bars they had inadvertently ruined. Pausing and frowning down at the metal in his hands while his hair spines straightened stiffly, Tychus put the mostly fixed bar on the rack and set off towards the armory- still on lockdown by the Adjutant. He'd find the limit, someone else could deal with Horner.
Warfield was in the bridge cleaning his Gauss rifle attentively, difficult even if he had been working to develop better control over his retractable talons. Pausing and looking at the wall, he listened to the snapping of dried material and the ragged gasps for air of Matt Horner. As if he was looking at him, he inclined his head and muttered. "Welcome to hell." He continued working on his weapon, whoever it was could wait a few minutes for him to get it all back together proper.
When he had finished breaking free of his prison and heaving the foul substance that had filled his stomach onto the floor with sick splashes, Matt sucked in air and looked around. Wiping the nasty filth from his mouth and, spotting the transmitter device, stumbling to it quickly. When Stetmann appeared he felt a measure of relief, the man looked unchanged somehow. A pair of his clothes was thoughtfully folded on his bed next to the stand and he dressed himself out of habit while listening.
"Hello Matt! Um, so you're a Zerg now- and so are we. We decided to make recordings for everyone who hadn't woke up yet, just to let you know what's going on, you know?" Egon's recording stumbled along awkwardly as Matt touched his fingertips to what felt like bone raised out of his back slightly, horrified.
"Others may have wakened since I recorded this for you, but as of right now it is General Warfield, Tychus Findlay and myself. Kerrigan has not shown herself or spoken to us, aside from one brief thing." The image of Stetmann looked uncomfortable at the thought. "But she has not made us do anything yet, and there is a broodmother in the laboratory named Shlassa. She is here to watch us. If Swann hasn't woke up yet then the Adjutant is still blocking us from the armory and most of the ships functions."
In the process of putting on his gloves, Horner paused at a queer feeling on his palm and in his arm, slowly turning his hand palm-up.
"I don't know what changed about you, seems we're all pretty different right now, but try not to panic when you see anyone else. They haven't made out quite so good in the visual department..."
Sucking in a breath, Horner dropped his glove and held his hand farther away in revulsion. From the center of his palm a cluster of fleshy tendrils was writhing, stretching outwards as though seeking something. Closing his eyes tightly he whispered rapidly to himself, completely blocking out whatever else the Stetmann message was saying. "Not happening not happening not happening."
Warfield took aim with his rifle, checking the sight with a practiced eye. Letting out a satisfied grunt, he slung the weapon strap over his shoulder and made his way towards the living quarters. Whoever it was should have been finished listening to Stetmanns message by now, at the very least.
"Alright. First question. Why are you watching us? Doesn't Kerrigan know what we're doing at all times?" Back in Stetmanns lab, he had sat down on a stool, pen and clipboard in hand, ready to get answers from Shlassa.
"My brood has been given to another and the Queen has entrusted me with keeping you and the other Terrans safe.
"So, we're your brood?"
"I did not make you, but yes."
"So broodmothers take care of pieces of the swarm and Kerrigan directs the broodmothers? I suppose that is efficient."
"Yes."
"Do you know what our purpose is? What Kerrigan wants us to do?"
"I am not to speak of it. You will know in due time."
Scribbling notes rapidly, Stetmann thought hard- asking the right questions was often the biggest challenge of research. "Are we capable of talking to one another in our minds?"
Shlassa paused, chitinous fingertips clicking together. "Yes. Terrans do not speak with their minds, you must practice. Perhaps if you can talk specifically to one another in time, I will be able to do the same."
"So it's like a muscle that we haven't used, we need to work it." Muttering, he jotted quickly and looked back up at the creature. "I know there is a kind of hierarchy in the swarm. Kerrigan is at the top, broodmothers are next, are there any other strong Zerg that control lesser Zerg?"
"You and the others. They are capable of controlling other Zerg, should they prove strong enough." Shlassa sounded very much doubtful. "Zerg lead by force of will and strength. We follow the strongest."
Blinking in surprise, Egon tilted his head. "Wait, you follow the strongest? Willingly?"
"Yes. We broodmothers are capable of choosing."
"Amazing! Why do you follow Kerrigan?"
"She is the strongest." The tone of Shlassas voice shifted, as though she thought he was rather dense.
"So if I was to prove I was stronger, you'd follow me?"
"Our Queen defeated you and remade you. You've already proven yourselves weak."
"Oh. Well, uh, thanks. I think that's good enough for now." Egon placed his notes down on a counter top and mumbled thoughtfully "Should go see who woke up."
"You know who did." Shlassa implied impatiently. "Flex your muscle."
Cringing, Egon glanced at the broodmother and nodded slightly. "I guess." Taking a breath, Stetmann walked out of the lab and concentrated. He'd try to find out who it was and where they went through the link, to flex the mental muscle.
Horner had managed to retract the whatever-the-hell-it-was that had been sticking out of his hand after a round of denial, panic and fury. Forgoing his gloves, he cautiously stepped out into the emergency-lit halls of the Hyperion and started looking for the others, all while in a mental haze.
"Don't turn around, Horner." General Warfield called out a generous distance away, and Horner stood still.
"General Warfield, sir..?"
"Just wanted to let you know I'm here. Don't need you yelling or trying to shoot me cause I look like a damn bug, son. Feels bad enough as it is." Warfields words were bitter.
"Ah. I understand, trust me." Shivering in revulsion, he was keenly aware of the writhing inside his arms when he slowly turned around and took a look at the General. "Oh, hell."
Raising a finger to point at him in warning, Warfield tilted his head and gave him an I-told-you-don't look. Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, Matt cleared his throat. "Alright. I'm good. You're good. We're good."
"We aren't son. Not by a long shot. But we'll figure somethin' out, alright?"
"Right. How recent was that message Stetmann left?"
"Few hours maybe, nobody else awake yet if that's what you're asking."
"Alright." Warfield had started walking and Horner fell in step with him, it was not so bad- the most shocking part is the hair and claws, he thought.
"Not much we can do right now, with the Adjutant keeping us out of damn near everything. Probably for the best, don't want to know why Kerrigan wants the Hyperion in tact. Can't be good for anyone."
"No, definitely not." His stomach soured thinking about Kerrigan, about the battle and the whole damn mess Jim led them into. "What happened to the crew?" Warfield's silence spoke volumes on the subject, and he felt further sick. "We took all these people to their deaths." Still, Warfield refrained from answering. It seemed prudent to not tell Horner what had really happened to them, for now at least.
The pair almost bumped right into Stetmann when he whisked through a door. "Oh! Hello General, hello Matt-sir!" They stood there looking at one another, Stetmann curious about what had changed about Horner, and Horner trying to politely spot any freaky alien mutations on Stetmann. "Seems you made out a lot better than Tychus and the General, visually anyway."
"Thanks kid."
"Sorry sir." Warfield waved him off and set the three of them to walking together slowly, no destination in mind.
"Ah, yeah about that- well, we can check it out later. Where's the convict?" There was venom in his tone when he mentioned Tychus. Warfield supposed they had been exchanging heated words not long before the shit hit the proverbial fan.
"Listen boys, now's as good a time to get it out as any." Warfield glanced around quickly, making sure Tychus was not in earshot. "Tychus ain't handling this very well, don't go riling him up. We need him just as much as we need each other, you got that?"
Horner huffed, annoyed. "If you say so, General."
"I do."
"What has been going on with Tychus? He didn't tell me anything." Stetmann almost sounded hurt.
"Been hearing and feeling weird bug stuff. I know you probably have too but it seems to be a lot worse for him."
"There is some weird... Buzzing in my mind." Horner admitted.
"Very interesting." Stetmann hadn't been having any sort of mental issues, but he was not going to volunteer that particular bit of information until he knew more. Theories started to whirl through his mind though, as they always did.
"Right. Well, just try not to poke the bear alright? And Stetmann. Don't run away from him."
"Huh?"
"He almost hunted you down when you ran off the field earlier. Don't know why, but probably best to avoid that."
"Wow, that sounds almost like a prey drive!" Hands reaching for his pen and paper, Stetmanns face fell when he remembered he left it in the lab.
"So, how much worse off is Tychus?" Visually need not be spoken. Matt was morbidly curious.
"You'll see him soon. He's..." Stetmann paused, halting the groups progression and closing his eyes for a second, frowning. "At the armory doors?"
"And how do you know that, kid?" Warfield questioned, suspicious. Stetmann had already taken off walking at a brisk pace though, muttering something about "flexing muscle". Warfield and Horner followed, confused.
They did not have to walk far before the distant banging became audible, hastening their pace. What they found was Tychus, cursing vehemently and partially stuck under the massive reinforced armory door. He was on one knee that had become trapped under the door when he lost the strength to lift the door any further.
Matt whispered a tense holy shit at the sight. It meant that one man had lifted that door in the first place, and since Tychus had not put a shirt on, his layered flesh was clearly visible.
"A little help here?" Tychus all but snarled, taking a breath and resting his forehead against the cool steel.
"What in the hell are you doing, Tychus? Not that I'm not impressed, mind you."
"What does it look like I'm doin', chief? Getting the door to the weapons open! Grab that container I brought over and help me get it under." Thankfully his leg was holding out fine, he was just completely stuck.
The three men looked to the large cargo box Tychus had also apparently hauled over, pausing only a moment before springing to action.
"Put some muscle into it! You two nerds gotta move that box under here while Tychus and I lift!" Warfield snapped at Matt and Egon, each picking a corner of the box and shoving it towards the door. Gritting their teeth and grunting, the two were huffing when it finally bumped into the armory door.
"In place, sir." Stetmann huffed, resting his hands on his knees.
"Alright, get ready. Three... Two... One!" Warfield and Tychus tossed their heads back and bared their teeth, snarling as the door lifted off of Tychus' knee and screamed in protest as it went up farther.
"C'mon... Hurry." Tychus grated, both his and Warfield's arms were trembling as they waited for the container to be slid into place. Stetmann and Horner threw their weight into it and the container screeched against the steel beneath it as it moved into place, not a moment too soon either.
Both Warfield and Tychus collapsed to their knees in unison, the cargo container dented inwards slightly when all of the weight of the armory door rested on it, but held firm.
Panting and rubbing at his knee, Tychus nodded at the three other men around him. "Thanks for the assist. Nice job."
Horner and Stetmann were resting against the cargo container, huffing for breath. "Hello Tychus." Horner mumbled, a half-assed greeting but it would do.
"Captain." Tychus snarked in return, pulling a cigar and lighter out of his pants pockets, lighting up.
"Not this shit. Listen, you two jackals can go duke it out somewhere else. Just remember that we're still in this together. We might not be stuck to a wall but we're still in deep shit, just in case you needed a reminder."
"No. Don't reckon it would do us any good." Tychus straightened up, everyone else following suit at their own pace. "Only difference between now and a few days ago is a bit of beauty sleep."
"Speaking of beauty sleep." Horner muttered, nudging Stetmann with his elbow and drawing his attention to his hand. "Any ideas?" He would have vomited, had there been anything left in his stomach, when he held his hand up and exposed his palm. It was a bit tricky, now that he wasn't so tense, but tilting his hand back and stiffening his fingers into a curled position drew the tendrils out from their hiding place in his skin. Stetmann made a retching sound, barely catching himself.
"N-no. Whew. Sorry. Never seen anything like this." Taking hold of Matt's wrist, very careful to not touch any of the protrusions, Stetmanns eyes split away so he could look at it with other, stronger eyes.
"What-" Horner made to jump away but Stetmann held fast.
"Relax. Every one of us has been mutated, best get used to it. Something coating the tendrils. Will need my lab equipment operational to know anything further, sorry sir."
Tychus, ever the opportunist, grinned and chuckled. Successfully drawing Horners attention, he piped up. "That lil' doll, Mira Han, will love you now."
Even Warfield snorted laughter.
"Not even slightly funny."
Taking a drag of his cigar, Tychus grinned like a jackal. "We'll just have to agree to disagree now won't we?"
Matt was about to put his hand to his forehead in frustration but caught himself at the last second, slapping his hand back down to his side. "Look, I better go see what I can do about the Adjutant, if anything. Need to think."
"Fair enough, not much we can really do right now. Got some logs I want to look over, myself." Warfield gave everyone a quick nod, him and Horner leaving together. Tychus and Stetmann looked at one another.
"Well egghead, I'm gonna go see what toys I can play with in the armory. Can come if you want, don't matter to me none."
"I'll go back to the lab Tychus, thanks." Stetmann rubbed his temples as he parted ways with Tychus, his brain hurt.
"More for me." He had to duck to enter, but seeing a hangar full of machines, guns and explosives was similar to entering Valhalla for someone like Tychus. "Hell yes." Puffing his cigar and rubbing his hands together, he started looking around.
Warfield returned to his living quarters, resolutely ignoring the cocoon he had broken out of and sitting down at his nondescript desk. He had a small stack of records not connected to the Hyperions network, as he was a barely tolerated guest at the start of all this, each one contained information about his men. Dutifully he began filling out their time of death, how it came to be and any exemplary behavior before it happened. You're right Raynor. Sending all those good men to hell was the worst part.
Tychus was staring up at the much less impressive looking Thor that Swann had designed, fondly remembering the pure chaos he unleashed when he was piloting the Odin, when the spines at the base of his neck pricked upwards. Remaining still but focusing, he decided that there was a distinct watched feeling. Taking a slow breath, he held his cigar up as if to toss it and used the nondescript motion to look farther off to his right out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, a flicker of motion behind the spider mine containers caught his attention. Dropping the cigar to the cold cement floor, he put it out with his bare foot and casually walked further into the storage container area of the armory for better cover. He'd find out what was in there with him.
The Zerg had taken the ship long ago, it felt like forever. Jayce, a Junior Mechanical Engineer, had taken as many containers of rations that she could carry from the mess hall and holed up in the armory when the Queen of Blades herself entered the Hyperion and took all of their leaders. Those few who had combat experience had already suited up and left the armory long before she got there, and that was how she ended up sealed inside, alone and waiting to die. But the Zerg never broke down that armory door, and though she had seen some of her wiser co-workers and friends banging on it, begging for saving, she saw too the fast scorpion-looking monsters that were already on them through the security cameras. They were as good as dead.
When the fighting had died down, what pitiful little the shipmates could do, the entire ship went dark. Jayce had been keeping an eye of the state of the ship through the control terminal in Swanns head offices, and fear coiled in her guts when the Adjutant had alerted her that the cocoons the Zerg had placed on the ship had begun to hatch. Each day a new monster emerged she had cried for another great man who had been twisted. Since then, the Adjutant had alerted her to any and all attempts to access anything on the ship and Jayce used her technical skills and higher level access to block them from overriding any of the Adjutants protocols.
Now, she was dressed in a Ghost outfit and hiding for her life behind a box of spider mines. Ain't this just a bitch. It was truly a blessing that the Commander had invested in advanced Ghost suits that could cloak forever, she had practiced with it the second she found one and was able to remain hidden if perfectly still, else flaws appeared. When she peeked over the box and saw that Tychus Findlay, now a clawed and spined monster, was nowhere to be seen, her insides went cold. If I can get to Swanns office, I can turn on the auto turrets and maybe take him out. Problem was, Swanns office was at the opposite end of the bay and she could either make her way through the storage containers or across the open space.
Unable to cloak properly while moving, Jayce opted for the storage container route. If she spotted him, she'd hold still and he wouldn't notice her. That was just how it was going to have to be. Barely breathing, Jayce began her painfully slow crouched walk to the containers, eye on the prize at the top of the stairs.
Tychus had made a beeline for the industrial sized light switch he caught sight of along the wall, clenching his teeth at the loud CLACK the lights overhead made when he pulled the lever. There. A sharp intake of breath, barely audible, announced his quarry didn't like the change of surroundings. Lips curling into a grin, Tychus only had to blink a few times before the darkened room looked as clear as day. Then he started hunting.
Swallowing tightly, Jayce had not thought to put on the high-tech goggles that Ghosts wore for situations like this and she cursed inwardly. Nearly crawling, all she had was her ears and the dim light cast by the partially opened armory door. When she reached the bulk of the containers, she straightened up and started moving at a faster pace, trying to control her breathing. When a black mass leaped over her head from one container to another, she audibly clapped her hands to her mouth to keep from shrieking. He had been so silent, and now she had given her position freely. Nobody ever trained engineers how to run and hide from monsters properly.
Tychus' eyes widened when he heard the clap of hands, entirely surprised. Professionals, hell, rookies don't make those kind of mistakes. Brows furrowing as he straightened up and leaned forwards slightly, looking over the edge of the box and trying to spot what had made the noise. There was only cement floor, but he knew what he heard. Determined, he braced a hand on the edge of the container and lowered himself down slowly, annoyed at the sound of his claws clicking on the cement.
Jayce was facing Tychus and what felt like nearly touching bodies, face to face. He's going to hear my heart racing, my breathing, something. She wasn't sure if she was breathing at all when a dinner plate sized hand stretched forwards and slowly closed around air behind her head. Jayce had leaned forwards ever so slightly, shrugging her shoulders into her body as tight as she could, eyes bugging as those mutated razors for nails nearly touched her hair and her nose nearly touched his collar bone.
Elsewhere...
When Stetmann entered the lab, he nearly yelled his surprise but managed to keep it to a sharp jerk backwards. Standing beside the Zerg specimen tank was a single infested Terran. Before he could speak, Shlassa hissed. "Control it. Flex the muscle."
I don't think our new friend, Jayce, treating Tychus like a T-rex is going to work out so well for her, do you? Sorry that I didn't give you a daily update! The more characters I add, the more I have to keep track of and it is definitely gonna slow down from here on out I think. If you have any questions about things going on in the story by all means PM me, I enjoy talking about it. :D See you in the next chapter!