Wow, chapter 30! Thank you for all the views, reviews, favorites and follows my friends. It has been a fun journey and it is far from over!
Bucephalus - Korhal
Oh, November Terra. You're quite the little agent of chaos, aren't you? And so much energy, you burn like a star in comparison to the rest of these pathetic terrans.
I needed a taste, Nova- I still do.
More. More more more...
MORE!
"Prince Valerian, Agent Nova is missing!"
"Explain," Valerian's voice lashed.
"Her vitals spiked, the machines went haywire and the nurse on duty was rendered unconscious when she entered the room to check up on the patient." A very nervous doctor reported, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of his emperor-to-be. Though Valerian Mengsk's visage was only on a screen, his grey eyes were a livid storm.
"Lock down the ship- we have to find her!" Valerian nearly shouted the command, immediately closing the comm between himself and his apparently inept subordinate. I should have known the security was far too lax to house someone of Agent Nova's caliber, he berated himself mentally.
Jim found himself on the Bucephalus, waiting for either Nova to become conscious within the next 48 hours or for Valerian to make the call to mobilize against his father without the ghost operative. Walking down a silent hall, he carefully tapped a cigarette out of its carton and caught it with his lips.
With a snict he lit the lighter and brought it up to the small death stick, at this point it was pure habit. Doubt zerg get cancer, he thought to himself ironically.
As the cherry of his cigarette burned bright, he saw a familiar distortion in the air ripple around a corner, making him smirk. As he opened his mouth to call out to Tychus, two things happened.
James Raynor! November Terra has regained consciousness and escaped! Lasarra's tone was worried. I can't feel her mind on the ship, but I believe she is concealing herself.
Jim went still, his friendly smirk shifting into a carefully neutral look. He should have known the second he didn't feel Tychus. Spotting the blur now might just be the only thing that could save his life if Nova still counted James Raynor as number one with a bullet.
As if to mock him the power went out and red emergency lights snapped on.
Thumpthumpthump
Eyes widening, Jim could hear her racing heartbeat and as he concentrated, even the subtle shifting of the suit creaked loudly to his infinitely keener ears.
There! The blur returned, bent light shifting subtly as the suit continually adjusted to its surroundings, directly to his right. Jim could see the faint outline of the advanced rifle raising, about to take its shot at his life. Nova's finger, trembling unnaturally, squeezed the trigger.
With a guttural cry Raynor lunged, cigarette tumbling from his lips.
KRA-KOW!
Jim felt the familiar searing agony of a bullet passing through his shoulder as his hand shoved the gun enough to miss his heart, loud cry shifting to one of mute pain as he forcefully collided with Nova. Time twisted unnaturally as he absorbed every minute detail, zerg physiology granting a freakish surge of adrenaline. Reacting in real time, he tugged the rifle free of Nova's grip and sent it hurtling as they slammed into the neosteel wall together.
Nova let out a surprised grunt as all the wind was knocked from her lungs, a thick forearm shoved horizontally across her chest and pinning her to the wall. Reacting as naturally as breathing, hand traveling to the knife at her belt, Nova's fingertips curled around it as her mind raced.
"Take." Using a hidden claw Jim caught the hilt of the knife below her fingertips and snagged it, tugging hard and sending her second weapon flying after the first.
"It." A knee snapped up, catching him hard in the crotch and for a brief second Jim was thankful nothing was there anymore.
"Easy!" Wedging a knee between her legs, Jim curled his hand around Nova's thin shoulder and pinned her hard.
"Agh!" Nova let out a breathy snarl, flinging her arm over the one pinning her and grasping at Jim's throat in desperation, it felt like grabbing corded neosteel. Time returned to its normal pace with a jarring slam for both combatants and Nova sucked in a ragged breath, it was hard to draw in air with so much force on her ribs. By chance she glanced from his glaring face and at his wounded shoulder, eyes widening.
Jim blinked, head turning to follow Nova's gaze as her suit's stealth tech failed and she appeared. His shoulder was just a mass of meat and bone, but oozing the purple oily blood of the zerg instead of pumping bright red terran blood; the flesh and bone were regenerating rapidly.
"Tosh was right," Nova whispered, paling visibly under the flashing red lights. "You were infested on Char. You lost."
Further aware of his own body, Jim realized the diodes Stetmann so painstakingly sealed into his skin were shorting out as they kept attempting to keep up the false image without a full grid to display it. Lips sealing into a tight line of displeasure, Jim made a quick decision while Nova was still in shock.
Stetmann. Jim's eyes half closed as he called out mentally.
Yes Jim? We just heard Nova escaped, have you found her? Stetmann answered immediately. The young scientist sounded a bit higher strung than usual, but Jim paid it no further mind.
Turn off my disguise, don't ask and do it fast. Nova looked up from his shoulder and Jim locked eyes with her. The ghost's face scrunched in confusion and disgust.
Yes sir! Egon complied.
What's goin' on, Jimmy? Tychus rumbled in Jim's head, looking through his eyes before Raynor could even answer; having others look through your eyes was an uncomfortable sensation and Jim's nose crinkled. Oh, so you did find that little vixen.
Jim became uncomfortably aware of his visage changing, the diodes shutting off with a sharp blue glow that dissipated in a hexagon pattern, revealing what lay beneath. Nova's fingertips clenched at his neck harder, but still ineffective.
"We're on the same side, Nova." Jim's warm brown eyes shifted to their true oily black, locked with Nova's light blue. "This whole thing," he tilted his head, indicating his... zergness. "Is just temporary."
It was too much.
Mired with crippling fear, Nova beheld the spiked monster that held her fast and her features twisted with hate. Hate for the zerg, for the emperor, for all that was said and done in her years as a psionic assassin, it all came welling up. No zerg were going to infest her, no nameless fog parasite turn her into a puppet, no.
Nothing would remain.
Baring her teeth, Nova saw with pleasure the expression of surprise and panic flit across the former James Raynor's malformed face. Sucking in a huge breath past the oppressive weight on her chest, she bellowed with all her might. "Raaaaaah!"
"Oh nononono!" Jim's eyes widened as Nova's icy blue eyes lit up with an inner light that spread across her whole body, overpowering the oppressive red lighting in the hall and rapidly building to a blinding intensity.
Jim wrangled Nova off the wall and curled his arms around her from behind, holding tight. Killing her wouldn't be right and his mind raced to find a solution before his brain got fried. Nova was still in his arms, concentrating on building a terrific mass of energy.
James Raynor! Hold on! Lasarra's soft voice reassured him. Nova couldn't hide such activities from the vigilant protoss.
Jim squinted his eyes hard, feeling Nova's body jerk in his arms. Faintly, he could see her head tossing left and right, cupid lips moving rapidly but not speaking.
Lasarra stood stock still, focusing intensely. November Terra had hid herself very well until now, but the terran had all but thrown the curtain down with guns blazing. Terran feelings were normally so very dull in comparison to the depth of the protoss spectrum of such things, but the true terror and violent thoughts erupting from the ghost operative was a moving experience.
With mercy, Lasarra let her mental essence fall upon the disgruntled terran before she could self destruct and take everyone with her. Like a blanket, she curled her mind around Nova's and saturated her with calm. Nova responded much like a terrorized animal, howling and fighting back as hard as she could.
But Nova had let all barriers down, leaving herself wholly vulnerable. Lasarra studied the wounded creature critically, thoughtful. Be calm, November Terra. You are in no danger here.
A protoss! The terrorized woman, rendered childlike and helpless in her head, reeled. What could a protoss be doing here? Suspicion ran wild in her mind- this is a trick.
This is no trick. You were correct, James Raynor and several others were infested on Char. Their situation has evolved since then and they are their own masters as they pursue a solution. Lasarra paused, head tilting as Nova's mind seemed to not register her words.
Jim took advantage of Nova being prone and made a run for Valerian's meeting room with her in his arms, praying that none of the refugee rebels caught sight of him.
Taken care of, Jim. Warfield reassured, up to date on the situation; the red alert was dropped half way there and the lights returned to normal with a loud snap.
Tychus joined Jim as he ran, loping ahead with his longer strides and making sure the coast was clear anyways. Findlay had questions, Jim could feel it, but was mercifully silent and cooperative.
Nova's head lolled around with eyes half open and unseeing as she flailed inside her mind, attempting to raise barriers against the intruder and failing completely. Get out! Get out! He'll get me! She howled, voice high and terrified.
Lasarra delved deeper, confused. November Terra was not truly afraid of James Raynor, not even in his zerg state. There was something else stirring a primal fear in the otherwise cold assassin and with an answer not forthcoming, Lasarra sought it herself.
Noooo, Nova wailed pathetically. She could feel the filthy protoss searching through her mind as if it was a curious book, it was a wholly unwelcome and defiling experience.
Feeling a touch of sadness at the adverse reaction to her presence, Lasarra further submerged Nova into a sedate state. I apologize, November Terra. Your thoughts are your own but I must understand what it is you fear, that I may help protect against it. Such a dark and damaged mind was saddening in its own right, there were many similarities to the rewired minds of the resocialized men and women in Valerian Mengsk's roster.
Too soon all was made clear, the discovery itself almost scared her clean out of the terran's mind.
Forcing Nova into a merciful sleep, fully disbursing the psionic energy she had intended to destroy herself with, Lasarra touched Jim's mind like a gentle tap.
Jim stared at Nova as Tychus strapped her to the extravagant and downright posh seat that Valerian normally sat in, his arms crossed firmly as a scientist clumsily affixed new diodes to his freshly regenerated shoulder, replacing the ones Nova's rifle blew clean off.
Raynor idly wondered why Tychus barely reacted to being shot, it still hurt an awful lot.
Jim. Lasarra whispered, her tone left him feeling anxious.
Yeah? Give it to me straight, Lasarra. Is she fixable? He pressed, fearing the worst. Valerian had yet to arrive, but it would be good to have some kind of information ready.
What you have seen is pure fear, James Raynor. November Terra was being feasted upon by a parasite, we knew this already. What we did not know, is what that was like. Lasarra considered her words, trying to convert the feelings impressed upon Nova in her brief time as a mind slave into something more palatable.
What happened in Nova's mind would not be shared, such a private torture it was.
What did this thing do to her? Can she be snapped out of it? Jim frowned, watching as Tychus gently pulled Nova's long silk-like ponytail out from behind her with a thick finger, placing it comfortably over her shoulder; the amount of tender gestures Findlay had given to others over the years could be counted on one hand and Raynor let it be, it was harmless.
"What got you so spooked, sugar?" Findlay murmured, tilting his head and watching as Nova's eyes flickered back and forth behind their lids.
It would seem that the fog itself is an entity, a hate and malice so strong as to take a physical form. November Terra was tortured mentally, the kind of agony that came of it transcends any kind of physical pain you have ever experienced. Thoughtful, Lasarra wondered at her own role in the grand scheme of things as she had many times since this journey began.
A plan became clear the more she considered the options. I will waken her gently and assist her while the three of you speak to her. She must be brought to understand the situation, we can do this together. Lasarra resolved that Agent November Terra would return.
Sitting on the edge of an exquisitely cushy chair with caution in regards to all of his once again hidden spines, Jim glanced up as Valerian entered the room, the last of his alien features disappearing behind the restored guise. How come you can wake her up now but not before all this happened?
She was deep in her mind James Raynor, not recoverable without possibly dealing damage. I have put her to sleep myself now, it is a different matter this time. Lasarra patiently responded.
"Jim! Why is she unconscious?" Valerian blurted, approaching the table and looking at the thoroughly bound agent. "What happened?"
Between Jim, Lasarra and Tychus, Valerian was quickly filled in. All that remained was to wake Nova up and try their best.
Floating in an endless fog, Nova struggled continually to swim to the surface of her mind and break into the waking world, to regain control. Can't let him have me again.
Wake up, November Terra. A gentle voice whispered through imagery, a strong indication of it being the protoss who caused this mess. Nova seethed at it.
Still, that protoss was the one calling the shots in her head right now and it was a small measure of relief to both see and feel a warm light appear and envelop her mental body. Pain registered immediately, that deep ache of strained muscles and cracked bones; Nova slowly opened her sore eyes and stared down at a finely polished wooden table.
A monster sat to the left and right, subtle bending of light around twisted forms easily recognizable to the trained eye. Another kind of monster sat at the opposite end of the table, grey eyes locked with icy blue.
They began to talk, an endless chatter that she couldn't care less about. I'm a prisoner, she assured herself firmly, and it's you keeping me captive. Valerian Mengsk. No force on earth or in the heavens could convince her that bloodline wasn't tainted with evil, not after experiencing firsthand what the elder Mengsk unleashed upon the people.
Nova took the time Raynor, Findlay and Mengsk were using to blather to erect mental barriers again, stoically staring down the heir of a broken empire. How mad do you need to be to side with the zerg, even if you are desperate to secede from your insane father?
Her mind felt more secure and defended in short order, but the protoss still had a foot firmly wedged in the door and it made sure she knew.
I cannot allow you to destroy yourself or them. You must listen and see reason, November Terra. The disembodied voice coaxed.
"Remember your training, Agent Nova!" Valerian snapped, slamming a gloved hand on the tabletop with a sharp smack.
Training. Nova's gaze sharpened.
"I have had the pleasure of working closely with a ghost, I know the tortures you submitted yourselves to in the name of being strong enough to handle anything." Valerian saw the unfogged gaze, that killer focus, and seized upon it.
Leaning forwards on his hand, Valerian summoned all the conviction he could muster into his voice. "You broke away from my father to try and save people, they still need you. Remember your training and pull yourself together, Agent. You have a mission to complete!"
Lasarra felt and saw all the pieces come clicking together, filling her with a warm happiness. You are very strong, November Terra, do not forget that. She pulled her foot from the door.
Get out. The door slammed shut.
Straightening in her seat, Nova cast a chilly gaze over Jim and Tychus. "If you want me to participate I will need medical attention, my gun, my knife and a target. I have three cracked ribs."
Tychus and Jim both stood from their chairs and approached. A repulsive feeling and sound forced Nova to grimace, neck hairs raising and skin prickling. It sounded like the chittering, buzzing and clicking of a sea of insects and it felt like a slimy caress on her brain. Bile rose in her stomach and she forced it down as they stood on either side of her and undid the bindings.
"Sorry about your ribs." Raynor muttered apologetically.
"She blew your shoulder off." Tychus reminded, tone amused.
"Stop talking in your minds." Nova spoke sharply through clenched teeth, glaring up at Tychus and over at Raynor. She noted critically that the rogue commander was a smidgen taller now. "I can hear it."
"Sure thing." Findlay shrugged, stepping back as the restraints fell away. Jim kept quiet, a look of fatherly concern on his face as he too stepped back, watching the renewed assassin rise.
Valerian straightened and clasped his hands behind his back calmly. "Report to the medical wing for treatment, your weapons will be restored to you. Our teams leave within the hour, I expect you to choose one to attach to and support accordingly."
Nova flicked her hair over her shoulder with a snap of her head, listening.
"We are launching a three-pronged attack against the Mengsk palace. Two groups will secure key points along the way and Jim's team will assault the palace after groups two and three entrench themselves and send reinforcements." Valerian wondered which she would choose, deciding not to tell her that there would be an infested man in each.
"There is an endless army of infected civilians outside, we've barely defended against it." Nova frowned, this plan was nothing short of suicidal. "Never mind the hybrid, which Agent Tosh and I never managed to find."
"Tosh is alive?" Jim's tone was pleasantly surprised, reminded that she mentioned him once already.
"Yes," Nova supplied testily, glaring at Jim. "We discovered the first infected... He went ahead to continue searching for the hybrid and I retreated to the base."
Comprehension dawned on all three faces of the men around her, but Valerian spoke first. "The infected chased you here?"
"Yes." Nova's demeanor darkened, voice lowering. "He wanted a taste. Others died because of me." She wanted to run, hide, get off the planet and disappear forever... But Valerian was right.
"And Tosh never came back," Raynor muttered.
"That's right. Not sure what chance you think you have, Raynor." Nova sniped without mercy, Jim was no friend.
"We got a few tricks up our sleeve, sugar," Tychus' whiskey voice was pitched low and pleasant, but Nova could do without the rest of him. Spikes that moved of their own accord were hiding behind the image of his crew cut hair; if karma was a thing, Findlay had reaped it in full after all his years of being a pirate and murderer.
"I'm sure," she replied in a cool tone.
"Enough. You are on the same side, I expect you to act accordingly," Valerian reprimanded. "Agent Nova, the infected have fallen back and not attacked since our initial landing. Long range motion scanners are coming back negative, the masses have moved elsewhere and our base will not be left defenseless."
"When this is over Valerian, I am done." Nova rolled a stiff shoulder, lips sealed in a tight frown. "This is my last mission." In her mind there were no illusions about surviving this, but she'd not leave such an important matter unaddressed.
"I could not ask more of you, both my father and the ghost program have abused you beyond words over the years. When we are successful you have my full blessing to live as you please, Agent." Valerian inclined his head a notch, a touch of respect in his tone. "It is my hope you will feel differently when we are finished and decide to stay of your own accord, but I will not force the matter."
Chittering. Hissing. Clicking. Nova shifted uncomfortably where she stood.
Jim noted the discomfort, but there was nothing for it. "We best get movin'. Warfield has everyone ready to go and she still needs those ribs looked at."
"Yes," Valerian agreed, ending the meeting with a gesture towards the door. "Good luck out there."
Hyperion - Rebel Base
Stetmann stared fearfully at what he had created, was creating, and struggled to mask his emotions from the other infested in the process.
"They do not know now, but they will." Shlassa confirmed his fear. How could he hide three roaches, three zerg anything, from people they were all intrinsically connected to?
One of the large eggs twitched, liquids inside sloshing audibly. Egon took a half-step back, shoe crunching on broken glass; he had done it, listened to the broodmother and let her crush the containment vessel and unleash the large writhing test subject- the biomass, she called it.
The creation process was incredible, what seemed so alien and terrible not long ago now felt as natural as breathing; creating life was natural to the zerg, twisted murderous life. Egon regretfully acknowledged to himself that he could recreate the process now without the broodmothers help, even more regretfully acknowledged that he enjoyed knowing it.
Heart hammering as the time for the loathsome creatures to break free approached rapidly, Stetmann fidgeted with wide eyes. "This is not right. Stop!"
"No." Shlassa hissed, seizing on Egon's fear and insecurity. "The roaches will help us, help you." It was important he not understand how to stop it, there was no more biomass- Shlassa could not allow one foolish stray thought to destroy them.
Shivering fearfully at the thought of Jim finding out, Egon watched helpless and mute as the three roaches erupted from their sacs- a disgusting mix of liquids and solids spilling out over the creep covered floor. Shlassa hissed in pleasure and her new children chittered in response, shaking away debris messily as Egon stood well back to avoid it all.
The moment three extra minds winked to life and linked to their joined consciousness, a calamity of confusion followed by immediate accusations from all five men assaulted Egon.
Stetmann! What have you done? Above all, Jim felt the most fearsome- like a wounded, angry animal. Shlassa and Egon stared at one another while the roaches held still and awaited orders, eerily silent in comparison to their noisy births.
As Egon began to receive the most scorching reprimand of his young life he felt a shifting, quiet presence. The roaches rose up on their deadly, heavily armored legs and lurched forwards, commanded by the intruder.
Stetmann's eyes widened.
How are we going to explain this to Valerian, to anyone? We are trying to reassure people we aren't monsters and here you are, taking orders from that damn broodmother and making monsters! Jim's roar rattled Egon's brain as he stared, watching the roaches file out of the room, powerless to command them.
Thanks kid. Tychus whispered into his mind, chuckling darkly. The looming mental presence faded away as he took the three monsters and left like a thief in the night.
I want you out of that lab, right now! That broodmother and those things are on lockdown as of ten seconds ago! Jim paused in his tirade. Where did they go?
Shlassa cackled verbally, glowing green eyes alight with a sick glee. I have taken them, they will defend our perimeter. You have no say in this matter, James Raynor. She mocked, putting emphasis on his human name as if it were an insult. Tychus had his own agenda, but he was keeping her children safe- she'd handle the Queen's little pet.
You know, I don't think we really need that broodmother bug, Jimmy. Findlay mused, tone cold. What say we just go deal with that right now, before we leave?
Stetmann couldn't discern even the slightest indication that hulking infested terran had just made off with three deadly bio weapons, there was no doubt the others had no clue either. Jim, please... I only agreed to it because they could help us get through the city safely- right to Mengsk! The roaches burrow, Jim!
A pregnant pause filled his mind and Egon fidgeted in worry, hands clenching and twisting at his green goo-stained lab coat.
Should I say something to the men, Raynor? Warfield questioned, feigning as though he was waiting on a command through the private comm before he could give the word for all the groups to move out. Some of the men were fidgeting with rising anxiety.
No, get goin'. Jim relented as a sick, cold feeling settled in his guts. Those roaches stay burrowed and doing nothing until I say otherwise, am I clear Shlassa? He snapped, wishing nothing more than to agree with Tychus and blow that creature to high heaven.
"Alright gentlemen!" Warfield shouted to each team on the comm system, they would break off and follow their individual plans afterwards. "Move out and watch your six!" Throwing his hand forwards in a commanding gesture, Warfield began to march with his team. They had agreed each infested man would lead one, a secret extra protection.
"Whatever you say, boss." Tychus rumbled in an amused tone, glancing down and over at his second- Daren was eager and it showed.
"Lets roll." Raynor glowered, glaring at the gentle blue glowing force that held back a sea of deadly fog. The infected had all but dwindled to nothing overnight, but they could be right there; only one way to find out, time was ticking for the arrival of Kerrigan. Jim swore he could almost feel her out there, but shook off the feeling as nerves.
Egon vacated the lab as quickly as he could, chastened into silence. With a mumbled apology, he locked Shlassa in the lab and wondered where he'd go from there. All the while, he worried about Tychus' intent with the roaches.
Are you reading my mind? Helllooo, are you listening?
Nova blinked. Catching stray thoughts was not out of the ordinary, hard to avoid when you were such a strong psi even, but this one was almost jarring in clarity. Right away, she spotted who the thought belonged to. Daren was staring at the back of Tychus' head so hard, it was a wonder he hadn't drilled into the big con's brain.
Gravitating after Findlay's group, Nova decided to stick with them. Tickled with amusement, despite the continual bite of terror on her heels, she reached out with her mind and gave Daren a gentle tap. The marine suit jumped slightly, quickly recovering in the hopes of none of his men noticing.
He is not a psi, Daren. Nova whispered, amused. You can think at me if you want, she offered; it was useful and not a tool she'd offer to Findlay, even the thought of trying to understand his thoughts raised her neck hairs.
Really? If it wasn't you telling me that, I wouldn't believe it. We kicked ass at poker. Daren thought, clumsily trying to keep himself from looking for the ghost following him.
The procession of eight marched through the glowing wall, weapons raised as they were swallowed up, the first team to enter the fog. Tychus and his team were heading south to secure an important piece of road- much to Findlay's disapproval.
Just a thug in an expensive suit. Nova snarked, weapon at the ready and eyes glued to the motion tracker, anxiety giving a stiffness to her muscles she couldn't quite shake off. The fog was so much more than just fog.
As soon as all of the ground forces were officially out of the rebel base the lift of the Hyperion lowered, sending three roaches tumbling down into the night and slipping under the earth with frightening speed and silence; not a soul saw.
Stetmann stood outside of the sealed and locked lab door, hands stuffed firmly in his pockets and fidgeting uncomfortably- waiting for further berating for what he now acknowledged to be a serious lack of judgement.
"Perhaps the proximity of Shlassa has begun to alter my judgment..." He muttered, glancing back and forth down the cool, dim hallway. What to do now? It hit him then, When did I start thinking of Shlassa by her name? As a female? When did she become more than just the enemy?
A shiver ran down his spine and it had nothing to do with the perfectly regulated temperature. Unnerved, Egon forced himself to begin walking away from the lab. Time away from the creature was a must, with a hefty dose of self reflection.
I can't believe you. Matt Horner struck Egon's mind like a sledgehammer, more blunt and outright angry than the young man had ever felt- he could only imagine what the expression of the normally reserved and well controlled man looked like right now. What happened, Egon? When did you become what you were running from?
Cringing and ducking his head as though physically struck, Egon struggled to field a response. This was nothing like the horrible experiments that were conducted on prison inmates, that situation was far removed and different. Or was it? Stetmann guiltily studied his feet in response to Horner's seething presence, a building pressure in his skull.
A sensation cut in on the mounting pressure, the mental weight of Horner's anger turned into a physical manifestation, like a solid wall of granite. Ease off, captain. Egon staggered as the pressure snapped like a cord, leaning against the nearby wall and panting. The rock, Swann, remained in place. Get over to the armory.
Yes sir. Stetmann whispered, swallowing and staggering towards the armory as commanded, grateful beyond words.
The armory door raised upwards like the maw of a great beast, unleashing a low rumbling roar. Stetmann stepped in as soon as his head had clearance and closed it.
"Hey kid," Swann called, waving from behind the spider mine display. The little deadly robots clicked and chirped as if they were a part of the conversation.
Egon nearly jumped out of his skin, even knowing that Swann was there. "H-hello!" Approaching quickly, closer to a drunken stumble in his haste than a real walk, Stetmann wore his nerves on his sleeve. "Rory, what can I help with?"
"Eh, not much," the stocky man shrugged and Stetmann saw a flicker of blue around his hand, the re-purposed stealth tech still not agreeing with there being a hand where a robotic clamp was supposed to be. "Get up on the console and make sure all the diodes are still workin'. Be a huge mess if the big bonehead bugged out."
Nodding and stiffly walking to the console sitting at the top of a short set of steps, Stetmann frowned and thought about what the chief engineer said. Tychus' disguise holding up was especially important because his entire team was made up of the rebels, who had no idea about the infested. Now that would be hard to explain. "Right," he said.
The only reason why the volatile con was stuck with the rebels was his form was very close to its original, there was little to hide if his arm blades were tucked away and thus less chance of bugs happening; that and he seemed to have struck up a friendly relation with the leader of the remaining rebels: Daren.
On the console, 3 dots were spreading farther apart as each team went their separate ways, flickering weakly. Worry squeezed at Egon's heart. "The ship won't be able to track them soon Swann," even as he spoke, one small green dot trembled and vanished.
The dot in question belonged to Tychus J. Findlay.
"Just great!" Swann threw his hands up dramatically, nearly tossing a spider mine in the process. He did not seem so bothered by the development though.
"These are just for tracking and making sure they work correctly," Egon murmured, eyeing the now blank screen. "They have their own power sources," yes, that must be why Rory was not worried.
Still, it bared looking into. Egon tentatively reached out with his mind, across the pathway only available to them as unwilling members of the zerg swarm. Tychus.
What? Came the curt reply.
Are the diodes still functional? Stetmann said.
Yeah and they better stay that way, kid. Tychus was in no position to carry out threats. Still, Egon remembered when he pounded through his chamber door like it was made out of synth butter; remembered the roaches, stolen away.
They will. He did not feel as much conviction as he put into the statement.
"Help me finish up inspecting this batch of spider mines then," Swann called, focusing intently on the plate-sized four legged automaton in his hand. Its legs wiggled and it beeped and booped as though it were objecting to this treatment. "Need to get them set up out there, just in case."
"Spider mines?" Stetmann eyed the bug-like machines warily from his vantage point. They must be running very low on supplies, to be arming the display pieces.
"You watch too many of them shows, kiddo." Swann admonished in a fatherly tone. Everyone who was anyone had watched the horror movies where spider mines came to life and claimed innocent victims, except the grouchy chief engineer of course.
"I think it's okay to not like handling things that explode, that's all." Egon muttered and came over, pinning down one of the bug-like machines with a hand, feelings it's little legs tickling at his chest as he leaned over it and started running a diagnostic.
"Don't blame yourself, Egon." Swann said, not looking up.
"What?" Egon blurted, forcing himself to not look up as well.
"We're in this together, watchin' each others backs, keepin' one another in line... But nobody had your back." The chief engineer's tone was low and had a note of self-loathing in it that Egon couldn't possibly have imagined. "A couple roaches ain't gonna do nothin', not with us all here, but it's all our faults that it happened; that we let you keep rubbin' shoulders with that freak of nature in the lab."
Cautiously, Egon turned the spider mine over to its back and popped open a panel with an offered tool. "I am the scientist, I am supposed to be aware of these things. I was so sure what I was doing was right... I didn't stop to think of the consequences, Swann." Were it possible to cry anymore, the emotion stunted to nothingness by the zerg, Egon was certain there would be tears clouding his eyes.
"Look," Rory placed the spider mine down with a small thunk, holding it in place with a firm hand as it's legs strained and heaved comically. "I want you to remember what happened, because it can't happen again. But I want you to pull your head out of your ass and get back in the game too, okay?" The bitter old engineer smiled then, facial hair bristling. "I got your back now, kiddo."
It didn't make everything right and certainly everyone else was still frothing mad over it, but Egon found himself smiling back at Rory. That the man he and many others on the ship would consider a cranky father could forgive him and move on, allowed him to believe everything could be okay in time. "Yes sir."
A thought occurred to Egon then—who was watching Matt Horner's back?
Augustgrad – Southward
6 marines stomped in close formation, following the smoother and leaner shape of their current leader dressed up in a spectre suit. All weapons were armed and ready to be used, even though the fog around them was so thick as to make it feel like they were swimming through some kind of drowned city. Daytime and nighttime were not discernible to the eye- each man relying purely on the built in equipment of their suits to give day, time and motion tracking.
Behind the bulk of the group followed two more shapes; A large bipedal machine, tromping along much like the CMC-encased marines, but 15 feet in height with spotlights that cut through the dense fog far enough to see the vague shapes of the men it was following- an SCV. Lastly, an especially lithe and agile figure who was completely invisible, and it had nothing to do with the fog.
Nova was already tired of listening to this SCV pilot, Greg.
Every step they had taken outside of the protective barrier surrounding the rebel base, this guy had sniveled and whined- right up until Tychus told him to shut the hell up. Then it continued in his mind, with a much fiercer vocabulary that the ratty man would never dare utter in front of a big thug like Findlay.
Agent Nova just couldn't respect that.
I should just squish him and go back to the base. They need me, there won't be any consequences- we're all dead men anyway.
Never got to tell Lucille just how much I loved her... What I wouldn't give to see her again.
Gonna die constipated from these rations-
Where are all the infected?
Can't see but gonna make damn sure I don't step on that freaky bastard's feet-
"Agent Nova," a familiar basso called through the comm system, jarring Nova out of listening to the thoughts of the other men. Tychus had a playful tone, "I knew you couldn't keep away for long."
A disgusted noise escaped the tall woman, cutting off into a choked sound as a small image of Tychus Findlay's face appeared in the top left hand corner of her helmet display; the inside of his spectre helmet cast his countenance in a red light and from each eye, crinkled at the corners in a smile, reflected many points of light from multiple smaller pupils that surrounded a more normal one—like some kind of demented cat.
"Tychus!" Nova whispered urgently into the comm, "who else is on this channel?" Light blue eyes scrutinized the motion tracker closely—no one had fallen out of step when Findlay opened up the comm and there were no alarmed thoughts screaming about monsters.
"Private channel, sugar. Just you an me in here- anything you wanna say to ol' Tychus?" How a person speaks, their intonation, can say a lot more than the words themselves. Nova didn't bother keeping the disgust off her face, Findlay might as well have been talking dirty.
"What the hell do you want? Better yet, in what universe is it a good idea for you to have any portion of your disguise turned off?" She asked, voice a hiss.
A low chuckle crackled through the comm and there was a short pause as their path shifted, displayed clearly on the motion tracker. "You don't like me none, why'd you come along with this group?"
A destroyed vehicle, obstructing the road, loomed out of the fog and Nova deftly walked around it like everyone else. "The rebels, they are my-"
Turn right. A deep voice rasped in her mind, a subtle intrusion. Nova followed the command without thinking, forgetting about talking with Findlay.
Tychus silently raised a clenched sledgehammer-sized fist, calling a halt. Daren and his men narrowly avoided a pileup with many muffled curses and weapons raised in high alert.
"Nova?" he questioned, eyeing the green dot on his motion tracker as it slipped away.
The familiar voice began whispering directions, fast enough that she increased her pace to a loping run to keep up with them despite the near zero visibility. "Go without me, go!" she called into the private comm with Findlay, closing it abruptly.
Daren, I am leaving. Follow Findlay's directions, he's a brute but he will save your life before this is over. Nova called to Daren's mind, feeling his confusion in response. There were very few times she had been gifted with precognitive glimpses, this was not one such time, but she knew it in her guts what she said to be true.
Don't talk, listen only. The disembodied voice called.
Agent November Terra ran hard, splashing through puddles and leaping obstacles as she recklessly chased a phantom.
"Where did the girl go?" Greg blurted, watching the dot run off like everyone else.
Tychus' eye twitched, thoughts shifting to the roaches that were deep below, conveniently beneath the SCV and its loathsome pilot. "Congratulations," he poured as much sarcasm as he could muster into his words, "Now you know why they call 'em Ghosts."
Augustgrad – Northwest
A small procession of marines followed by a rumbling siege engine and an SCV, cautiously traversed the westernmost reaches of Augustgrad. Already, debris were making the easiest of tasks difficult.
Two marines, barely able to see one another with the piercing light beams built into their CMC suits, wrangled a burnt-out vehicle husk off the heavily congested street they had chose to travel; four other marines and a heavily armored General Warfield with a mask on stood guard.
"Are we going to be able to secure the choke point in time?" Adam, the man who spoke to Warfield during the exchange of infested, sounded as exasperated as Warfield felt.
"We have to." Warfield considered their options as the group inched forwards and tackled the next vehicle in what seemed to be an endless pileup. There was an SCV and a siege tank sitting no more than 30 paces to the rear, but using them as bulldozers had risks; the enemy could be anywhere.
When the General saw the fifth vehicle, a large waste disposal unit, loom out of the fog, he made up his mind. "Smokey," he snapped through the comm. Undermining the integrity of the entire mission for the safety of two people was out of the question, as much as he disliked it.
"Yes, General?" A gravelly voice responded. At 5 packs of cigarettes a day for 25 years, old Smokey earned his namesake.
Clearing the way for the siege tank, which he could only hear, Warfield finished signaling for the rest of the marines to do the same before he made the call. "Flatten this obstruction and be damned careful while you do it."
"Ten-four!" A dull roar of acceleration responded in kind and a moment later the well worn engine of war rolled by, fog rolling off its fast-moving form in waves and its horn honking once before it began crunching over vehicles in a great monster truck impression.
"Sir," Adam approached as the fog swallowed the siege engine and the large amount of racket it was creating. His tone was strained, "Where did the infected civilians go?"
"Don't know son," Warfield half-shrugged. "Command said the mass fell back and that is all we have to work with. Wouldn't be surprised if they can't see or hear a damned thing either," he was sure to keep any doubt from his tone.
Adam' suit shifted, suggesting the man inside was nodding. "Just wish there was something more substantial to tell the others, you know? We all saw how the rebels looked." Adam was doing his part to not sound afraid, but it was there.
"Just treat it like business," Warfield frowned, eyeing the motion tracker; the little green dot of the siege tank had stopped moving a ways off. "High alert and a finger on the trigger."
Others were taking note of Smokey not moving now, and Warfield swore he could hear dull heartbeats tapping their rhythm out faster as nerves wound tighter.
A few more marines were shifting closer to Warfield, nervously awaiting an order.
Warfield let Smokey sit for one full minute before opening the comm. "Smokey, you've been sitting there a while. Status report."
Hands gripped weapons tightly and bodies shifted in concert- their owners unable to figure out whether to run to the rescue or just run in general.
Sound poured through the comm system in response, high pitch ringing mixed with static, combined in such a way as to sound like ragged screaming.
Warfield felt the chitinous bug-like segments on his head stand on end. Barking out in a commanding tone, "Adam, with me! The rest of you, form up around Seevee and shoot anything that moves."
Thunderous footsteps, marines hustling in full CMC, surrounded their SCV protectively as Warfield and Adam charged away—towards Smokey. The comm with the siege tank operator was already cut off by someone with their wits about them.
"Have you seen these things up close yet?" Warfield questioned as he ran up the steep incline of crushed vehicles, side by side with the bulky CMC that housed Adam.
"We were shown the one in the rebel base containment unit, and the remains of the one Jim Raynor and Findlay chopped up," Adam remarked grimly, eyeing his footing and motion tracker. Now that he was looking harder, he swore the siege tank dot was thicker than usual.
Had they picked up an infected without noticing? Adam struggled to keep his limbs from turning into wood as the rumbling engine of the siege tank became audible.
Warfield bared his teeth in an unconscious aggressive gesture, gun held ready as he wordlessly took point and gestured sharply for Adam to watch his back. The siege tank was idling, a beast without a master, as he leaped first to its heavy tracks and then to the top, scanning warily with his eyes.
The hatch, several inches of reinforced neosteel meant to protect the comparatively squishy pilot, had been ripped off its hinges violently, nowhere to be seen. Warfield stood stock still, straining his hearing to catch anything, some sign of life. A subtle scraping, metal rubbing on metal, confirmed life was within.
The brace of grenades pinned to his thickly armored chest felt heavy, even though he was not the least bit fatigued. He needed to see what was in there, and so forced his leaden feet forwards with extreme caution.
Tipping his head over the edge of the hatch hole, which seemed closer to a gaping abyss, he took a quick glimpse and forced himself not to recoil violently.
Inside was a picturesque charnel house, plucked straight from a horror film.
Warfield knew he would have lost his composure and vomited were it not for his current zerg influence. The two infected civilians, standing idle in the still-twitching remains of Smokey, did not notice him as he leaned back slowly and grasped a grenade.
Adam watched expectantly, face falling as he saw the General grasping for his chest.
As cautious and dexterous as he was, General Warfield could not stop the gentle click of the grenade detaching from the brace.
A detached limb fell to the neosteel floor with a dull thud and a nanosecond later there was a hurricane of motion. Warfield heard the two infected shifting into rapid motion and responded in kind, arming the grenade and hurling it into the insides of the tank in a single violent surge.
"DOWN!" Warfield roared, diving towards Adam.
Condensation in his mask from rapid hot breaths fogged his vision, but Warfield saw clearly the CMC shifting and gun pointing upwards- towards him. He blinked as he fell.
One series of three-round bursts lit up the muzzle of Adam's rifle like a sparkler, a second burst drowned out by the dull thump and roar of the inside of the siege tank being turned into a big flash cooking oven.
Warfield hit the ground rolling as the immediate fog burned away by searing heat and light, untouched by gunfire. Adam's CMC clattered to the ground beside him; a quick glance revealed both his hands engaged attempting to keep an infected from smashing into his helmet.
Adam had shot the infected who leaped after him, Warfield understood now. With anger he surged to his feet and, letting his rifle fall from his hands, grabbed the infected by a leg and heaved with all his might.
Warfield didn't even know what all his might was, a fact he admitted to himself as the infected man's leg ripped clean out of its socket with a meaty shlunk sound. Startled briefly, he let the leg to flying and tried again- the infected was not in the slightest deterred from attempting to get at Adam.
Swinging a foot up and planting it on the crotch of the CMC, Warfield raised both his hands and slammed them down on the infected's back, talons sinking in and catching on ribs like meat hooks; from the strong position, he heaved.
Adam watched as the wide open eyes, oily black pits, of the infected lifted and were thrown away into the dark. He couldn't see a damned thing and rolled like a turtle on its back, trying to find his discarded weapon and the General- who he could vaguely hear grappling and struggling nearby.
Relief flooded him as his mechanical hands identified his rifle, clenching it like a lifeline as he rolled to his feet and wildly attempted to catch his bearings. The explosion from the siege tank had burned away the fog and mist, but it only lasted a moment before it came back as smothering as ever.
All he had were his ears and the motion tracker.
A green dot, deceptively thicker like the siege tank had been, quivered to his right. "General?" Adam called, wary as he approached, gun high and ready though his fingers were trembling like a leaf in autumn.
Before he could see, he heard wet crunching, snapping and popping sounds—like a butcher had set up shop 5 feet away. Steeling himself, Adam quickly closed the gap and just as quickly froze still.
Warfield had just finished snapping off the infected's head like a flower, eyes darting up to look at Adam with an expression of pure murder. Every other limb of the now extremely deceased former man had been ripped off already.
"G-general." Adam couldn't help but stutter before catching himself, tone shifting to a plead, "we need to get back to the men and continue." Please don't kill me too, was what he really wanted to blubber.
Blinking slowly, Warfield smirked then. "You know damn well what I am right now, son. This is not the place to get cold feet," he straightened, looking as though he had taken a dip in a lake; but Adam knew better what that black-looking viscous fluid really was and would bet there was a hell of a smell to go with it.
Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, Adam saluted sharply. "Yes sir." On a softer note he muttered, "thanks for saving my bacon." With a degree of hesitance, he fell in step beside the General and noted flecks of blue glowing around his hands, revealing the talons he had seen before.
"I know it doesn't look good but trust me, I am all there upstairs." Warfield mumbled as they crested the hill of crushed vehicles, leaving the hulled out siege tank behind them. Years of practice were the only reason he remembered to recover his rifle. They'd continue without the tank, there was no choice.
"I trust you sir." Adam confirmed before switching to the general comm and barking out orders. At least the defending group was untouched.