The atmosphere was tense on the bridge of the Uhuru. Marín was playing the waiting game. Below, Vermaak and Stukov were underway; in front of her above the war table, she could see the slow crawl of the troop transports moving into position. A large storm, charged with plasma, was moving in. The Uhuru would lose contact with them briefly. They won't be able to see us, we won't be able to see them. This made Marín uneasy. Normally, she would have taken her wraith into the atmosphere and watched them herself. But in light of what had recently transpired, she didn't want to agitate anyone further. She would have to be content with the war table's holographic map and its inscrutable colored icons. As it was, the planet was carpeted with the red dots and triangles that denoted the location of Grellna's brood. Everyone who had attended the morning briefing had been taken aback by its size.
Marín felt an unusual dread at having both Stukov and Vermaak in play in a vulnerable position. They didn't have the numbers to perform an all-out assault, and what Stukov had proposed—stealing Grellna's forces out from under her—sounded like madness. She hoped he could pull it off, and that Vermaak could keep him from getting killed long enough for him to do it. And so she stood waiting for any sign that they had made headway, ready to command her forces to assist them.
The comm chimed. Marín spun around to face Barre. Already? She thought. Or is there a problem on the surface…
"It's Gen. Oyaleni. She's requesting permission to board and to meet with you?" Barre said. Marín balked at the odd request.
"I spoke to her a few hours ago. What does she want?"
"She didn't say. Just said it was important."
"Well, don't make her wait. Let her dock."
"She's requesting the port hangar?"
"That's… fine?"
Marín thought it was odd that Oyaleni would be coming to her now after having attended the morning briefing mere hours ago. She had been uncharacteristically demure in it, but Marín had chalked that up to her acceptance of their situation after her rebuke and finally perhaps her seeing the value in the fleet's current direction. She had hoped that Oyaleni would eventually see reason and maybe now she was. Marín searched her mind for a time in which she would have given Oyaleni reason to not trust her or a time in which she had maligned her in some way. She couldn't think of anything. There probably isn't any one thing, she thought, and it may be nothing. It's probably not personal, though it seems as though it has become that way.
The door to the lift hissed open. Oyaleni strode out onto the bridge. As ever, her face was stern and flat, no indication of her mood.
"General, what can I do for you?" Marín said. Oyaleni looked to the side of the bridge towards Ahlberg and Barre.
"Get them out of here," Oyaleni said flatly. Marín's eyes narrowed. Was this an indication that a high-clearance meeting was to take place or just a heated exchange? Oyaleni wavered, seeming to relent. "For now." Marín looked over to Barre and Ahlberg and nodded. Both of them walked to the lift. As the doors closed, Marín caught Ahlberg's eye. They exchanged meaningful glances. He would wait for word from her, and if it didn't come, he would return, Oyaleni be damned. The last thing that Marín wanted was to be cornered in a yelling match with Oyaleni who was more than her match physically.
"Well, now that they're gone…" Marín started.
"Maybe we should talk about this in your office."
"Fine," Marín said, shrugging. As she turned towards her office, she heard something click behind her. Having lived with a soldier for many years and having a firearm herself, she recognized the noise—the sound of a holster as it was pulled open. Marín instinctively dove sideways, seeking safety crouching behind the war table. A pulse of energy flew behind her; she could feel its heat on her back.
"I knew you would be fucking annoying about this."
"You mean not wanting to die?" Marín said incredulously.
"For pete's sake, it's a stun pistol, Renata. You know that."
"I'm sorry, can't say I got a good look at it while you were trying to shoot me in the back!"
Oyaleni took two large strides towards the table and to the side on which Marín was hiding. Marín quickly slid on the ground away from her, keeping the table between them and hugging close to its solid base. She looked around. If Oyaleni chased her around the table one more side, she could maybe make a break for it to her office. Marín kept a stun pistol of her own there in her desk, and she could lock the door from inside.
"Quit hiding and face me. You're a danger to the fleet and yourself…"
"Like hell I am, Jane. What has gotten into you? Do you want to be in charge of the fleet? Is that what this is about?"
"This is about your irresponsibility… First what you did to Vermaak…"
"What? You think that was my fault?"
She heard Oyaleni move again and she made a dash for the other side of the table and the door. But what she had thought was Oyaleni running around the table was actually her sliding across it. But Marín had committed to the action, digging in and sprinting the few meters to her office. The door opened as she heard the whine and arc of the stun pistol and felt it burning on her back, electricity climbing up her spine and causing her muscles to spasm involuntarily and painfully as it worked its way through her nervous system. She landed half in and half out of her office, kicking, knowing that if she stopped moving it would hurt and cause her to curl up and lose consciousness. She struggled to her knees and inside the door.
"Adjutant, shut and lock office door!" she managed to pull her body into a ball just on the other side of her office door as the windowed glass-and-neosteel door slid closed behind her. She could hear Oyaleni banging on it, shouting muffled curses. She lifted her head wearily, dragging herself behind her desk. She heard Oyaleni pound on the door angrily one last time. Marín reached up slowly and painfully—she knew she didn't have long. She pulled her datapad onto the floor and groped around for her stun pistol. Her mind was getting fuzzy, but she knew she had to get the word out.
"Ad… adjutant… Ahlberg…"
"Admiral?"
"Mutiny."
The room went dark, but she wasn't sure whether it was her or the power. She lost consciousness, slumping against her desk.
Warning klaxons began blaring on the lower decks. Dauphin didn't know what they signified, but she could guess. They were different than the Kuznetsov's—more electronic and quicker. But even these were different than the ones that she had heard during the battle of Tyrador.
"Intruder alert," the adjutant intoned over the din.
"What the hell…" Dauphin heard KD say from inside the cell block.
"Who do you think it is?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Gregory said, his voice barely audible from Dauphin's cell, "The UED has found them. They're here to take us back."
Dauphin ignored him. It could be the UED, she thought, but they weren't here to take them back. Dauphin heard running and shouting in the hallway. Then gunfire but with laser weapons—not the kind the UED normally carried. There was yelling and a sharp, aborted scream. From somewhere down the hallway, a booming voice yelled "If you would surrender peacefully—"
"Go to hell!" someone else shouted. More gunfire.
It's not the UED, Dauphin thought, if they are on the Uhuru, they would not bother with asking for surrender.
It was suddenly dark. A different, dimmer light came on.
"Auxilliary power," Gregory said.
"Duh," KD said.
There was a muffled explosion from somewhere deep in the ship. The klaxons stopped. The lights went off and stayed off. Primary and auxiliary power was offline. Thankfully, Dauphin thought, life support and gravity is on a twelve-hour battery—or at least it is on the Kuznetsov. A smaller ship, she reasoned, or an Umojan one, may have more or less time.
"Oh god. All the power's out," KD had come to the same realization that Dauphin had, "How many hours of life support…"
Dauphin began to respond, but a flash of white in the darkness caught her attention. It was Gregory running silently past. Dauphin stood up and put her arm through the cell's doorway. The forcefield was gone.
"Gregory, no! Come back! You don't know what's going on out there!"
Dauphin walked out into the hallway and stood for a moment allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark. When KD walked up behind her, she startled her.
"Well, come on. Let's follow our dumbass."
Dauphin and KD felt there way forward in the darkness; the brig was like a tomb with the lights off. Gregory had forced the door open. Both of them cautiously stepped into the hall. The fighting had passed. There were burn marks on the wall, lit by the weak light coming from the luminescent paint along the sides of the walkway. In the distance, someone screamed. They both flattened against the wall. Dauphin's heart pounded. Neither of them had weapons and had only a cursory knowledge of the layout of the ship.
"Where do we go from here?" KD said quietly. Dauphin didn't answer immediately as she considered her options.
"If I know Gregory, he's going to try to defect to the UED. And they most likely came aboard by the hangar bay. That's where he's headed."
If, she thought, that's who started this. Could it be the protoss? That would explain the energy weapons… She thought about the Terran Republic. Could they be making a play to control the Umojan fleet? She had no idea. The only member of the Terran Republic she had met was Nova, and her interactions with Marín didn't seem to indicate that those two factions had any underlying friction between them.
Dauphin and KD conferred quietly with each other. KD didn't have any better ideas, and so the two of them began walking towards the hangar deck. They had only been walking a few minutes and from somewhere ahead they heard movement and fighting again, so close they could see the flashes of their weapons—and the sounds were getting closer. Both froze; without weapons and without a clear escape, there was not much they could do. There was a shuffle of footfalls, and Dauphin felt someone's arms around her, grabbing her and KD and pulling them into the darkness of a storage closet she hadn't noticed until now. Dauphin recognized the pale hand on her hip. It was Gregory. He pushed them further into the closet and shushed them. Dauphin tripped over something and fell in the darkness as Gregory crouched down and quietly closed the door.
Just as he did, Dauphin heard running footsteps clamour quickly by. After they left, Gregory opened the door a crack and looked out.
"Who were they?" Dauphin said, still sprawled on the floor.
"All Umojans. Soldiers in fatigues—no CMCs—and naval officers fighting one another."
"Sounds like an old-fashioned mutiny," KD said, standing over Gregory and peering out the door.
"It does," Gregory said.
"Why would they mutiny against Admiral Marín?"
"Who knows?" Gregory said.
"Who cares?" KD added.
Gregory pulled a small flashlight out of his shirt, clicked it on and slid it to Dauphin. He pulled another metal object out of his waistband. Dauphin picked up the flashlight and focused it on Gregory. The light glinted off the object—it was a pistol.
"Where did you get that?" Dauphin asked.
"Behind you."
Dauphin turned to find the body of a naval officer crumpled on the floor. A chill ran from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet. She realized what she had tripped on earlier was his boot. His neck looked as though it had been broken; his skin was pale in the light of her flashlight. For reasons she didn't quite understand, she didn't want Gregory to be a killer, though she "knew" he was. The Directorate ciculated propaganda saying Ghosts were genetically predisposed to violence and aberrant behavior. And despite that Dauphin knew that a lot of what the UED said was manipulative—trying to get her to believe or behave a certain way—that didn't mean that she wasn't conditioned after hearing it repeatedly to be subconsciously prejudiced against psionics. What didn't help is that she knew what kind of training ghosts went through. They were trained to be cold (the UED said it honed their nature) and to kill without hesitation. Was this his first kill? She thought. It is his first real mission. There was a disconnect for her between the man who looked barely older than a child—and acted naively like a child—and the powerful ghost that undoubtedly had killed despite not having "been on a mission." They're used as assassins and personal guards… And someone like Gregory would be in demand—if they knew just how powerful he was… he probably already has a body count… even without his suit and with two dampeners, he's still very dangerous…
"From what I can tell, the soldiers are the rogue faction. That man back there," Gregory said, motioning with his head to the downed naval officer, "has a symbol on him that I recognize as the Uhuru's. The soldiers don't."
"Do they have something different?"
"Yes, but I don't know what it means. Another ship maybe?"
"Two Umojan ships fighting each other? Why would they do that?"
"They're backwater in-bred idiots?"
"Gregory…"
"What? I don't know! Isn't Marín the Fleet Admiral now? Didn't the real one die? Maybe someone's not happy about that."
Dauphin went silent, considering. It was as good a guess as any, she supposed.
"You got another one of those?" KD asked, indicating the pistol.
Gregory smirked and revealed another one, giving it to her. Dauphin's face was hot with anger; tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She turned away and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve, trying not to show she was upset. She wasn't sure why she was upset. The people on the Uhuru weren't her people and she shouldn't care if they died. If they left here, she didn't want to go back to her own, but being alone in this sector—somewhere away from the conflict—would be just as good. She came here because she was afraid—of Reeves, the UED, and what they would do to someone like Gregory. Or the kind of person she had thought Gregory was.
"Why'd you have to do that?"
"What?"
"Kill those men."
"What do you mean?"
"You could have run. You could have hid. But you killed them. What are they going to do if they find us?" Gregory quietly shut the door and turned on his heels, dipping slowly to his knees on the floor. He faced her, confused, his large green eyes watching her intently. Idly, he pulled at the disrupter collar around his neck.
"Carolyn…"
"No, you listen to me. I don't care what you are, and how you were trained…"
"What I am?" Gregory said, his voice rising.
"But what will we do if they catch us? What will they do if they know the moment you escaped you killed two people…" Gregory started laughing. "You're laughing about this? What is wrong with-."
"Carolyn," he said, holding up the pistol. "This is a stun pistol."
Dauphin was quiet again.
"What?"
"The Umojans carry them on their ships instead of projectile weapons. Less chance of explosive decompression… or friendly fire… They're a little more into safety than we are."
"A stun pistol?" KD said. "How fucking boring… and no wonder I couldn't figure out how to cock it…"
Dauphin's face warmed again, this time with embarrassment. A captain in the UED Destroyer Fleet should be able to tell a stun pistol from one that fired live ammunition.
"It was dark, okay? I'm sorry. Anyway, it's not like you… you've not killed someone before."
Gregory looked away, not affirming or denying what she said. Behind her, the Umojan officer groaned quietly. Gregory stood slowly.
"We should go."
"Where?"
"Off this ship. Get this… thing off me," he said, indicating the collar, "And get back to the fleet."
"Are you crazy? Reeves will kill you."
"No, he won't. He may brain pan me…"
"That's almost as bad!"
"Sounds like just what I need," Gregory said darkly. At this, Dauphin stood quickly, her anger returning. She punched him in the stomach. His muscles gave only slightly under her small fist and he barely reacted to it.
"Dumbass!"
"What was that for?"
"You want to forget everything? What a sad sack you are. You come to the Koprulu sector to avenge your father's death, find out he's alive, and even though he's become a zerg, he loves you enough to defect to the Umojan Protectorate to save your life. And what are you doing? Moping around like an idiot coward and wishing your memories of him away—which is, probably, exactly what Reeves wants."
"He's not my-."
"The fuck he isn't, Gregory. He is. I saw that ship, it was his ship. I saw the pictures he kept… It's him, and—"
"I know, okay? I know." Gregory leaned against the door in the dark, resting his head against the door, making it clang with a hollow, metallic sound. In the darkness with the flashlight angled low on him, his high cheekbones and hollow cheeks stood out in sharp relief. Dauphin could tell he was clenching his jaw. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed, closing his eyes. "I read him the first time I saw him."
Dauphin blinked, confused.
"If you knew…"
"What would you do if you saw someone you hadn't seen in twenty years and they hadn't aged? They hadn't aged, but they looked like a living corpse, some weird… demon spawned by the zerg? What if that person was one of the few people you loved and even though he wasn't there even the mention of his name kept you safe? And he couldn't keep himself safe? He wasn't strong enough to fight off the evil…" Dauphin could tell he was getting emotional. He ran a hand through his short hair.
"So what chance do we have?"
"Yes."
"God, now you're freaking me out," KD said. The three stayed in contemplative silence. KD played with the safety on her gun. Gregory was breathing deeply and rhymically, his eyes closed. He seemed to be meditating, getting his emotions under control. Dauphin was thinking about their options.
"We should go back to our cell or try to get to the bridge."
"No," Gregory said. "I don't want to be a prisoner anymore."
"Me neither," KD said.
"Guys, I'm not going back to the fleet," Dauphin said.
"Well, then what?" Gregory said.
"We could just leave… take our shuttle… go to Kel-Morian space. I'm sure we could find someone who would help us get that dampener off. We could just… live."
"Like pirates?" KD said hopefully.
"Uh, more like freelancers. We could use our ship to run supplies."
"I'm sure there are a lot of people looking for ghosts for when they, uh, don't want to do something themselves," KD said.
"Exactly. They won't ask questions."
Gregory sighed.
"Fine. I don't care as long as we get out of here…"
An overlord carefully lowered the psi emitter on the ground, its tentacles tightly wrapped around it. As the device settled, the tentacles slowly unfurled, lifting back up into the sky. It was the tenth time that an overlord had repositioned it, and Stukov was hopeful it was the last. He had captured dozens of overlords and had increased his zerg army by tenfold. All the while he had kept Grellna blind by filtering their minds back through her overlords, making it seem like they were still attached to her. This new brood howled in his mind, and he could feel the psionic of power of the zerg surging through his body. Stukov felt infinite, powerful, and weightless, but cold, unfeeling, and restless. Intrusive thoughts—killing the marines around him, raising them, then overthrowing Grellna and supplanting her to stay here and bask in the zerg's power—tempted him. But he clung to the despair he felt over his children in danger, his rage at Reeves and now Oyaleni, and his new, unnamed feelings for Marín. As he kept working with Vermaak scooping up zerg and killing what couldn't be subdued, they were encountering less and less resistance. Because his brood was now so large, any new zerg they found recognized his power and would come running to him, ready to submit. But it still was not enough. Grellna had nearly no tactical prowess that Stukov could discern. She lacked manyflying zerg, And we need them desperately—especially if we plan to subdue her, leave the planet, and challenge the mutineers.
Izsha, he thought, able to contact her telepathically now that a critical mass of zerg had been gathered, what is the status of the Umojan fleet?
Unchanged, Admiral. It seems to be a stalemate.
Good.
Do you wish me to intervene?
No, Izsha. Stay away. You do not have the resources aboard the leviathan to make a difference, and the Aleksander is still weakened. You will only bring harm to yourself. Keep away and await my instructions.
Yes, Admiral.
The new wave came to him, and he did a mental tally networked with Izsha and the overlords, mounting a nearby hilltop to survey them. His feet barely touched the ground. It had happened before, but not to this extent—controlling this many zerg had unlocked a form of telekinesis in him. He wondered if this was how Kerrigan managed to fly and how she had lifted her forces from Tarsonis's surface after killing Mengsk. It had been a frightening experience for him, though he knew that Kerrigan would not have let him fall. Stukov paused for a moment, spreading his arms and trying to lift off the ground. Nothing happened. He laughed at himself. I'll never be Kerrigan. Even if I commanded all the zerg, I started out as merely a man. She was already a force even before she became their queen. My power, even at its zenith, would never rival Kerrigan's.
"What are you doing?" A gruff voice said behind him.
"Surveying our troops," Stukov said, turning to him nonchalantly. Vermaak was looking at him suspiciously, his visor up and his eyes squinting in the somehow both bright and grey day. The rain had stopped, but a misting fog remained, the planet's nearby sun making the sky bright and opaque. Vermaak crossed his arms.
"Looked like you were doing some dance."
"No, of course not," Stukov said, annoyance in his voice. "Just stretching."
"We ready to move on Grellna? My men are itching to go. This is taking too long.
"No, not yet."
"Why?" Vermaak said angrily. Stukov motioned to the sky.
"Notice anything missing, General?"
Vermaak looked up for a moment, and then he sighed and frowned.
"We've still got no air."
"None to speak of, no. I need an intact hatchery complex—one that's connected to a spire."
"What's the plan then?"
"Instead of taking the main hive and Grellna in one attack, we take one of her satellite hatcheries. It will alert her to our presence, but it will give us what we need to stop the mutiny…"
"Well, you've got the man—zerg—power to do it. Lead the way."
"Ehh, I was thinking that your men may lead this time? Having Grellna think an outside force is attacking her… and a small one at that…"
"It'll catch her off guard."
"You're okay with that?" Vermaak walked past him to survey the zerg brood, organized by Stukov into neat rows and phalanxes. He was quiet for a moment. Stukov couldn't help but begin to peer in his mind; his power was too tempting now and he barely had control. But Vermaak turned to speak to him.
"No, but I understand it," Vermaak sighed.
"Then we should move quickly."
"Right. I'll get my people on the move… But this is gonna change things. How do you think Grellna will react?"
"She will send too small of a reprisal. When my forces emerge, she will know what we have done. She will most likely act to protect herself and her main hive—the seat of her power. It will be harder to dislodge her without a siege."
"But that's what we don't want."
"Indeed. There will be massive zerg losses on both sides. I don't see a way around it if we want to leave quickly and resc… uh, stop the mutiny." Vermaak gave him a sideways glance at his misstep. Stukov had almost revealed that he was more concerned about Marín's state than the state of the fleet. Stukov tried not to react. It probably seemed plausible to Vermaak that he'd merely chosen the wrong word. Vermaak let it go.
"Huh," Vermaak said. He stood for a moment in brooding silence. "Let's not plan on that just yet. I'll send my shadow guards out for some reconnaissance. They might find another way in, or a weakness…"
"Perhaps." Vermaak grunted and started trudging away.
"I'll let you know when we're ready," Vermaak.
"Very well," Stukov said. Vermaak didn't stop and was halfway down the hill when Stukov reached out to him telepathically. I wish you and your marines success. Vermaak stopped, his back to Stukov. He turned around slowly in his CMC. In the distance, thunder grumbled, signifying another storm was coming. Vermaak turned around and stalked back up the hill. He towered over Stukov, jabbing one of his mechanical fingers towards his chest.
"Don't you ever get in my head again, understood?" Stukov squinted at him.
"What exactly do you not want me to see, General?" Stukov said.
"Nothing. A man has a right to his thoughts. I don't take that shit from my shadow guards, I'm sure not gonna take it from you."
"How do you expect me to contact you then? Semaphore? Smoke signals?" Vermaak opened the face plate on his helmet and ripped a headset off of his shaved head. He threw it at Stukov. He caught it, clutching it to his chest.
"I'll get myself another when I get back to base camp. But I swear to god, Stukov. If I find out you're poking around in my head, I'll make sure you don't make it off this rock." Stukov frowned. It was an empty threat. Vermaak has no idea how powerful I have become.
"I assure you I would not pry into your private thoughts unless I had a good reason. But… if we need to… talk this out…" he said, his eyes flaring with psionic power, "we can settle our differences later." Vermaak was undeterred, staring him down with his cold, grey eyes. Finally, he turned to walk away.
"If you need to talk to me, Stukov. Use the headset!" As Vermaak walked out of sight, he begrudgingly put it on.
To pass the time as Vermaak and his troops got ready, he assessed Grellna as a threat, pushing his overlords to the perimeter of her base to spy on her. From afar the overlords seemed friendly, but up close and in range of the hive and its crawlers, they would trigger their defenses. They were not as effective as shadow guards; they could not wend and maneuver their way through a base the way a ghost or shadow guard could. Stukov was eager to hear what Vermaak's people had found. His link with the zerg and his overlords could only tell them how many zerg there were and vague positioning. But idly he wondered what Vermaak could be hiding. Most likely nothing. Many people—especially soldiers like Vermaak—object to being "read." I never cared, but I've never had much to hide. I'm not ashamed of my thoughts. If you catch me thinking something you don't like, so be it. Everyone has thoughts they aren't proud of; that's hard to control. Still, it bothered him, especially with what he had seen in the shuttle—his fear of infestation and that he would harm Marín. His own imagination started to go wild. What had Oyaleni done to keep Marín from contacting them? Was she injured? Could she be dead? Surely Oyaleni would not go that far, he thought. But he couldn't be sure. And Gregory is on that ship. What of him? Rage quietly simmered inside him. I'll know soon enough.
"We're in position," Vermaak said over the headset he had given Stukov. Through the eyes of an overlord overhead, he surveyed Vermaak's troops: three platoons of marines, a dozen or so goliaths, and a few siege tanks. More than enough to take this minor hatchery, but not enough to take on Grellna.
"I am ready."
Stukov watched as Vermaak and his men ambushed the satellite zerg base. They concentrated on the few spore and spine crawlers protecting the hatchery. It was not well defended. Zerglings, a few hydralisks and roaches emerged to challenge them, but little else. As Stukov glided off the hill, he could feel Grellna marshaling her forces—but she was underestimating the size of their army—just as he thought she would. Around him, his forces surged forward. He wouldn't be able to subdue zerg that were directly controlled by Grellna without disrupting them. They would have to be destroyed. His army flowed around the siege tanks and through the ranks of Vermaak's men, shielding them from Grellna's attack. The small attack was put down quickly in a frenzy of teeth and claws.
"Well. That was… something," Vermaak said as Stukov walked towards him.
"Don't get used to it. Grellna knows we are here now. She will be gathering her forces. We don't have much time."
Stukov made his way to the hatchery. It was a being unto itself, coming from a drone and before that a larvae, just like any other zerg. But it was under Grellna's control. In his mind, it screamed at him. Drones and larva skittered away from Stukov, the larvae burrowing into the ground. In desperation, Grellna was trying to mutate them into something. He needed to get control over the hatchery. He knelt and touched the creep-covered ground with is infested hand. From it, infestation burrowed towards the hatchery, piercing the roots of the structure and working their way up. The hatchery, still controlled by Grellna, fought back, trying to heal itself. Its larvae were evolving—and quickly. She would try to send something at him soon. He pulled some of his zerg towards him just in case. But the hatchery was weakened. Tendrils of infestation burst through its outer layer of skin. From the wounds in its sides, broodlings emerged, attacking the mutating larvae and some nearby drones that had broken off from their jobs to defend the base. Finally, the hatchery fell silent. It was his now. He withdrew the infestation, willing the hatchery to abort its current larvae and spawn new ones. Grellna's larvae burst in an explosion of ichor.
Hours went by. Stukov took his time amassing as many flying zerg as he could. Grellna was doing exactly what he thought that she would: fortifying herself at her main hatchery, waiting for him to strike and hoping to overwhelm them. The broodqueen would not come to him. She knows I have stolen from her now; she will be ready. No matter. She will still fall. But Stukov had doubts. We must reassess our strategy. A simple siege would cost many of the zerg we came here to claim… I hope Vermaak's shadow guards have found something useful.
"You're taking too long, Stukov."
"We've got what we need," Stukov said, looking up at the sky now darkened by mutalisks, broodlords, and corrupters, "The question is if you have good intel for me."
"Good? Heh, you're going to love this."
Dauphin, KD, and Gregory crossed the midline of the ship and made their way to the starboard hangar. Immediately, they encountered less resistance. The mutineers must have landed in the port hangar, Dauphin reasoned, that makes sense; when we came aboard, we came in through the starboard hangar. The deck chief had an office there, and it looked as though most soldiers are deployed from that side. Going to the port side would be less of a hassle. She also thought that they probably would have known that information and used it against the crew.
When they got to the hangar, the door was sealed. Gregory handed his pistol to her and took her flashlight, shining it around the door to see if there was a concealed emergency panel. To her dismay, there was one—just above the tall, round door. With one foot on the wall and the flashlight in his teeth, the was able to jump up and pry the panel loose with his long, thin fingers. Bobbling again, his hand disappeared inside. He made a triumphant noise, muffled by the flashlight. Something up there gave, and the door cracked down the middle with a pneumatic hiss. Cool air from the hangar rushed in. It was fresher than the smaller space in the corridor.
Inside, the hangar was completely dark. So dark, that it looked like there was a wall of black in front of them and no room beyond. Gregory flattened himself against the wall beside the door. The hangar was silent. He swung his flashlight left and right, squinting into the darkness. All they could see were ships strapped to the floor and supplies tied down with netting. Stations were setup here and there—Dauphin had seen setups like them before and had been through one herself after coming back from the Aleksander. They were sanitization kiosks setup to detect and fight against infestation. Gregory motioned that it was okay to enter. He gave the flashlight back to Dauphin and took the pistol from her. When they all were inside, he pulled the emergency latch from the other side, resealing the door.
"If you see anything that might be useful in here, pick it up. We have no idea how long we'll be on the shuttle. Or who we'll meet when we set down," Gregory said quietly, in his odd, nasal way of speaking, in a voice more tempered than she had heard him speak in days. He's used to this, she realized, all this sneaking around… "Keep to cover," he said. They picked their way around cargo and small ships. When they came to the chief's shack, Gregory motioned for her to keep the flashlight down. He crept up on the cargo container, opening the door slowly so that it would not make noise. Like a shadow, he slipped inside the office. A few moments later, he signaled that they could come in. The two of them followed him. Dauphin relaxed. There was only one crudely cut window in the chief's office, and she wasn't holed up inside. From the inside of the office, they could see most of the bay without anyone seeing them. And since the door to the hangar was closed, no one would be suspicious that someone was inside. Gregory lowered himself to the floor, bouncing on his heels as he rummaged through the detritus piled around in the office.
"This place is filthy—feels like home," KD said.
"You would say that. This does look like your side of our apartment,"
"You two live together?" Gregory said, looking over his shoulder.
"Unfortunately…" Dauphin said, slowly realizing what he meant, "But, oh, not like that."
"She likes the girls, just not me," KD said, laughing.
"Shut up. I like both, thanks."
"That's, like, worse somehow. You could be attracted to anyone, just not me."
"You're my friend, and you're a walking train wreck. If we were 'together,' I would have killed you by now."
Gregory gave them both a look like they had volunteered more information than he needed. He continued to open the crates and toolboxes that were strewn around the office.
"What are you looking for?"
"Something to get this damn thing off my neck. And there should be a generator somewhere… Would be nice if she kept it in…" Gregory moved a crate away from the wall, and in the corner behind it was a large, yellow-and-black stripped metal object about twice the size of a footlocker. He ran his hands over it excitedly. "It's not a generator, but it will work. I guess they use powercells instead." He lifted one end. "It's heavy," he said, putting it back down.
"We can help…"
"No."
"What?"
"I can easily do this myself if we can get this fucking thing off me," he said, pointing to the large, white, metallic band around his throat. "There has to be something here that we can pry this off with. I need… a phase spanner… That would disrupt its power systems… But then what? It would just come back on if it wasn't physically disrupted."
"What about this?" KD pulled a very, very large pair of bolt cutters off a shelf.
"I don't think… maybe? That's… crude? It might work, or there could be some sort of failsafe involved that would instantly kill me if we brute forced it..."
"If there's a bomb in it, it's a small one," KD said.
"It doesn't have to be big if it's sitting on your carotid artery."
"…True."
"Let's not do this. Not here. Let's wait and do some research… Maybe on the way to Kel-Morian space…"
"If there's a bomb in it, we don't want it going off in a small pressurized cabin. Best to do it here where it will cause the least damage."
"You mean it will just kill you."
"Yes."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Gregory shrugged. He looked at KD. "You want to help me? You don't sound like you care if I live or die…"
"I… wouldn't say that."
"Lies. I'll use the spanner, you cut it off." Gregory walked to the other side of the office and pulled a work bench away from the wall and unceremoniously swept all the tools on it off onto the floor. He hopped up on it, readying the spanner. "Nurse KD… Are you ready for surgery."
"Yes, Doctor Patient."
"I'd like to remind you two idiots that the powercell is in here… If there's an explosion…"
"If there's an explosion, I die, KD will be injured, the powercell will be damaged, and you don't want to go back anyway, so there's no point in moving it. Go outside. There's no reason for you to be hurt."
Dauphin thought about leaving. But standing there was her best friend and… Gregory looked at her expectantly, vaguely smirking, his barely-visible blonde eyebrows arched in a question. She could see the resemblance between him and his father now. They're both jackasses… She sighed inwardly.
"No, I'm staying here… But I'm getting behind this fucking desk." She tipped over Jansa's metal desk and ducked behind it.
"Fine. Ready?" KD steeled herself, positioning the bolt cutters just under the collar. She slipped one blade under the collar. Electricity arched out and shocked her. KD yelped and Gregory growled and almost slipped off the table, cursing a litany of words in a language she didn't understand.
"You can't touch it like that. See? I can move it with my fingers…" He wiggled it up and down, "but if you touch it with anything metal…" As he lifted it, he showed them the series of burns he had on his neck, the new one bright red. God, he's been trying to remove it this whole time. "Wait until I've hit it with the spanner—and put on some gloves." KD looked around. Dauphin searched the desk and found some, throwing them to KD. They were too small for her hands, but they would have to do.
KD maneuvered the bolt cutters close to Gregory's neck—carefully this time, leaning away from him. Gregory bent his neck more, giving her more room.
"Okay. Let's try this again… Wait for me this time…" Gregory brought the spanner to his neck, and when it was millimeters away, he turned it on, arcing plasma towards the collar. "It's off! Do it now!" KD thrust the bolt cutters up, hooking the collar. Gregory gasped and choked as the dull side of the blade tightened the collar against his neck. With a mighty thrust, KD leveraged the two arms of the bolt cutters together. Dauphin closed her eyes and ducked behind the desk. There was an audible pop and a crunch and… Then a large metallic bang. Dauphin screamed. There was silence for a moment. Dauphin squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, not wanting to see what had just happened.
"Carolyn?" KD said. Dauphin was relieved that KD wasn't hurt. Dauphin looked up slowly from behind the desk. She didn't want to see him. She imagined a gaping hole in his neck spurting blood. He wasn't making noise—he had to have died instantly. But when she rose above the desk, Gregory was sitting there unharmed, a devious smile on his face and the collar half on and half off his neck. In his hand was his pistol—which he had banged against the metal workbench. Dauphin shot up from behind the desk, her face feeling hot and on the verge of tears again. He started laughing. She walked swiftly over him, tripping slightly on something that was on the floor, making him laugh harder. When she got close, she whipped the flashlight out of her pocket and threw it at him. His laughing turned to chuckling and he caught it. But Dauphin wasn't done. She tackled him, throwing him off the table and onto the floor. He didn't resist. Straddling him on the floor, she pummeled him with blows.
"Ow! Stop! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The look on your face…" He caught her hands and sat up, looking her in the eye. There was a glimmer of uncertainty in them, and then he was laughing quietly again. "I'm sorry. I won't do something like that again, I promise. He pulled her to him and hugged her gently. Dauphin froze. It was an awkward position—she was now basically sitting on his lap. "That was pretty good though, yes? KD?"
"You're such an asshole… but yeah, you almost make me piss myself. So, I guess, 'pretty good.'"
Gregory leaned back from Dauphin, reclining on his elbows. He looked at her bemusedly.
"You going to let me up, or do you like it there?"
Dauphin felt her cheeks grow hot again. She turned away from him and stood. Gregory rolled to his feet and pried the rest of the collar off.
"Now, want to see something better than 'pretty good?'"
"Uh, sure?" KD said. Dauphin crossed her arms, deciding that she was done with Gregory for now and would not engage him.
The door to Jansa's office flew open. The powercell in the corner lifted up of its own accord, flying slowly towards it and out of the office.
"Nice," KD said. They both followed. Dauphin followed behind them, stewing, picking up her flashlight as she left. The trio, powercell in tow, walked towards the large hangar bay door. Gregory felt around the side of the door an popped a panel off near it.
"Carolyn, I need the flashlight… please."
Wordlessly, Dauphin pressed it into his hand and walked away, leaning against the wall nearby.
"These people really do things differently," he muttered. "This… is not where I'd thought it would be… is it on the other side, maybe?" Dauphin didn't answer. He looked at her and Dauphin turned sharply to him. Gregory went back to working in the panel.
"I could… use your help… Another set of eyes," Gregory said. Dauphin rolled her eyes.
"I can help," KD said.
"No," Gregory said quickly.
"What?" KD said incredulously.
"Uhh, we need weapons. And see if you can find a shadow guard uniform. I think I saw some lockers on that far wall."
"It's pitch dark in here!"
"I'm sure there's a flashlight around…"
KD left in a huff.
"Please help me, Carolyn?"
Dauphin sighed. "Fine."
"Here, take the flashlight," Gregory said. He turned around and sat down, scooting his back towards the wall so that he could stick his head and arms up into the panel. "Shine it up here for me, please." Dauphin knelt next to him and shined the flashlight up into the space behind the panel. She wouldn't look at him.
"Look, I'm sorry… If I had known…"
"Known what?" Dauphin said quickly.
"Known that you would react that way…"
"React like a decent human being who cares about someone else?"
"Sure. That's one way of putting it… I'm a ghost. I'm just not used to that. I'm used to people caring about what I can do for them, not actually me."
"How do you know I'm not like that?"
"Because you would have stayed in the brig. And you wouldn't have acted the way you did when you thought I had died."
"Most people would have reacted that way to a person dying. No one wants to see someone die."
"I suppose you're right."
He worked on in silence, pulling cables and discarding them, trying to find the right one.
"Of course, I care about you. I care about KD. I even care about your dad—and that Umojan admiral that saved us. Maybe I just care about people."
"Well, I'm just glad to be on someone's list, finally."
"Ghost training… must be a lot rougher than I imagined."
"Oh, it is. I'll tell you all about it… If we ever get the fuck out of here…" Gregory rummaged around more. He yanked on something—hard. Whatever it was came loose and scraped up against the side of the panel. "Op! Wait. Ah. Here it is." Gregory pulled a long, large cable down from the panel. On the end of it was a large metal port the side of a fist. Extending his other arm, he beckoned the powercell over beside him.
"Do you see the terminal on it?" Gregory said. Dauphin turned the flashlight towards it, stopping at an L-shaped groove.
"Is this it?"
"Yes, that's it." He pulled the cable further out. "Wait, it's not on, is it?" Dauphin searched with the flashlight.
"No, I've found the on switch though. Do you want me to…"
"No! No, don't. If I plug this in and it's on, the hangar bay door will open—we haven't even found your shuttle yet."
"Oh. Yeah… But how are we going to turn it on from the shuttle?"
"I can do it," he said, plugging the cable into the powercell.
"Oh. Right. Telekinesis."
KD returned, and to Dauphin's surprise, she had found a large work light, two rifles and a live-ammo pistol, and had stuffed a large rucksack full of rations and assorted clothing.
"I even found toothpaste."
"Okay? Great? Did you find me a…" Gregory said. KD pulled out a thin, black, form-fitting uniform—a shadow guard's protective gear.
"Yessss… Let's go."
It didn't take them long to find their ship, mothballed at the back of the hanger under a metal mesh net. They removed the net and keyed open the door. It seemed like no one had been inside since they had been dragged aboard. As the doors opened, stale air rushed out as the shuttle came to life, pumping fresh oxygen mix into the cabin. Dauphin inhaled it greedily. She was thankful for the fresh air. The air onboard the Uhuru was starting to get a little stale. They boarded, and out of habit, Dauphin immediately took the captain's seat and began prepping the shuttle for launch. KD closed the hatch, and Gregory began sorting what KD had found into the storage bins on the shuttle. He left the shadow guard uniform out.
KD slipped into the seat beside her while Dauphin finished her engine checks.
"Course laid in for Kel-Morian territory…" KD said, tracing her finger across the map in front of her on her console.
"Good. Engine check within normal parameters… Looks like we've got a full tank of fuel… Greg…"
She turned to Gregory in time to watch Gregory unzip his brig shift to his pelvis and start peeling it off. Dauphin had noticed that he was thin, but it hadn't occurred to her that he would be mostly muscle. His abdominals were sharply visible, as was the line separating them from his hip flexors. She was used to seeing soldiers walking around in various stages of undress, but she couldn't recall seeing anyone with as drastic of a body composition. Yet again, something about the Directorate's ghost program that seems insane.
Not noticing that Dauphin was watching, Gregory turned and pulled his pants and boots off, his back muscles rippling as he bent over. Finally, he was standing only in his underwear. He walked over to where he had set the shadow guard uniform and picked it up, putting his feet through it, stretching and pulling it over his body. It must have been a "one size fits all" situation. The suit outlined every muscle in his body. Dauphin couldn't help but be mesmerized. Even from behind, he had considerable assets to ogle. Pulling the hood over the back of his head, he disappeared. Dauphin jumped up in her seat, started. Gregory turned around. Only his face was visible.
"Heh, you like it?"
"Why is…."
"There's a mask. It's in the bag. Just wanted to make sure the suit fit." He peeled back the hood and the suit became visible again. There he was, his slim silhouette accentuated by the black suit. Her eyes started to wander again. Okay, time to ease off your main thruster, Carolyn. She started to turn back to her console. Gregory took a few steps forward, kicking his brig shift. A small, plastic object skittered across the floor. He followed it and picked it up. Dauphin looked down at it.
"Is that your dad's ID?"
"Yes."
"Have you read the note yet?"
"No," he said flatly, putting it in one of his suits almost invisible pockets.
"Maybe you should do that soon."
"Maybe."
Dauphin faced her console and started the shuttle's engines.
"Ready to go?"
Gregory came forward into the cockpit, leading into it, placing one hand on the back of Dauphin's chair and the other on the back of KD's
"Get us closer to the powercell—and the door."
"I can't get us too close. If we're near the door when it opens, the explosive decompression could pull us into it."
"Do whatever is safest—and closest."
"Okay…"
The shuttle slowly drifted forward maneuvering over other ships that were tethered in the bay for the purpose of avoiding what was about to happen—explosive decompression flushing a ship out into space. Dauphin had her hand on the reverse thrusters, just in case things got out of hand. Gregory closed his eyes. She could tell he was reaching out with his mind. A few seconds later, the hangar bay door cracked open almost imperceptivity. A thin line of light shown through around its bottom edge. She could hear the air rushing around them, and the shuttle began moving forward slowly. Easing the throttle back, she canceled their momentum. The door began opening wider, pulling them forward again. Air rushed loudly by them, as did the detritus in the hangar that hadn't been secured. Boxes, guns, ammunition, uniforms, spanners, and someone's bicycle. Its wheel bounced against the nose of the shuttle. Oops, someone's going to miss that.
The door was halfway open, and Dauphin let the decompression slowly drag them forward. This has to look accidental, she thought.
"What are you waiting for, Carolyn?" Gregory said. "The door's open! Let's go!"
"Excuse me, I'm the pilot," she said "If you want to walk to Kel-Morian space, you keep complaining. And if you want to be a pancake somewhere in this shuttle when we start moving, you better get your skinny ass strapped into one of those seats back there."
"Heh. Fine."
The door opened to three-fourths of its full height. Dauphin let go of the throttle and let the shuttle move on its own, powered by the decompression. Almost immediately, the back end bucked, reacting to the decompression and being lighter at the back than at the front. She hit the maneuvering thrusters to force the back down, but then they twisted to the side. Dauphin decided not to fight it. They definitely would look like debris if the shuttle exited the hangar dorsal-side first. Flying by instrumentation, and bursting the maneuvering thrusters, she made sure that they would fit through the opening that way, and that they didn't twist again when they reached the door. She glanced back briefly when Gregory started yelling and—she assumed—swearing again, bracing himself against the floor with both legs, trying to stay in his seat.
"I guess we're even, huh?"
Gregory yelled something in a high-pitched voice that she didn't understand.
The shuttle exited the hangar door ungracefully. Once they were in open space, Dauphin hit the thruster slightly so they would appear to spin in the cloud of debris that the decompression had aspirated into space.
As they drifted away from the Uhuru, Dauphin looked back on the Umojan fleet. The Uhuru was drifting, and several ships were protecting it. Still more were faced off against them. Dauphin heard Gregory unlatch his restraints and pad back up to the cockpit.
"Where's my—I mean, where are the zerg?"
"I don't know."
"He's abandoned them," Gregory said stiffly.
Dauphin couldn't see any evidence to the contrary. She changed their trajectory, matching it with KD's plans, and as they turned, the fleet faded from view, blending into the dark velvet of space.
By the time Horner had messaged Valerian, Nova was already onboard and the Oppenheimer was spinning up to FTL. Valerian hesitated when the message came through. He knew what Horner would say. He had seen the Umojan ships warp in, and he had seen them posturing around Marín's Core Fleet from the Oppenheimer's war table. Horner would think he had something to do with the mutiny, and he did not—not directly anyway. He had sown the seeds of discord, but he wanted a bloodless coup and for someone else—anyone else—to be installed as the Umojan Fleet Admiral. Horner he could manipulate. Artanis was too good to recognize subterfuge, but Marín had fallen in with Stukov and was wary of him because of the incident with Nova—and his past. It was his fault, but he wanted a blank slate, but not if it required a fight amongst the Umojan fleet. They have fewer ships than they need already, he thought, hopefully they won't come to blows, but if they do… Valerian was upset with himself. His plans had backfired somewhat spectacularly. What bothered him the most is that technically the Umojans were his people—whether they claimed him or not. He had been born there, and his mother was Umojan. In the people he had met onboard the Uhuru, he had seen echoes of her in their customs and the way they spoke to him. It made him feel both out of place and strangely at home. But Marín somehow angered him, and he couldn't pinpoint why. He felt like he may have been trying to relate to her like he would his mother—and she was aggressively not like her. It wasn't fair, but it also wasn't something he was consciously doing. Even so, he thought her the wrong person to lead the Umojan fleet. Valerian sighed.
"Adjutant, cancel FTL jump. Answer Admiral Horner."
Horner appeared above the Oppenheimer's war table. His jacket wasn't buttoned, and his hair looked as though it hadn't been brushed. He was pale, and his cheeks looked sunken. I've seen him that way before… Drinking? That's not like him. Hm.
"Valerian…"
"I know what you're going to say. I had nothing to do with this."
Horner sighed and rubbed his temples. Is he hungover?
"You know that's not true."
Valerian held up both hands in a placating gesture.
"I have spoken out of turn, and for that I am sorry. But I have had no contact with the Umojan fleet since before the incident with Nova. I did not promote a mutiny."
"But you did, Valerian. Stukov and I were standing right there."
"I don't know what to tell you. I just didn't want Marín. I swear on my life I did not orchestrate this."
Horner sighed again.
"I don't know what to do with you, Val." Horner waved his hands, "You're like a dog that wants to be good but can't quit shitting on the rug."
"Please, Matt. That's…"
"I know… vulgar, crass, whatever. You get what I mean."
"What… what can I do to change your mind?"
"Get the hell out of here and secure that shipyard and bring back some goddamn ships. If the Umojans get to fighting each other, we may need them."
"Okay," Valerian said, feeling suspiciously like he was being sent away to his room like a recalcitrant teenager. "I'll do exactly what you ask. No maneuvering. No posturing. Just… complete the mission."
"That's good to hear. I'm going to… do something here. The captain of the Steadfast… Calvino? He seems like he has his head on straight. I'm going to talk to him and maybe sort this out. Mira will be here soon. And I'd prefer not to get the protoss involved..."
"If you need any help…"
"I'm not going to call you."
"Oh. Matt?"
"Just… go."
"I promise I'll make it up to you."
"Okay, okay… just go."
Valerian and Horner stared at each other over the comm, Valerian finally hanging up.
"Adjutant, resume FTL jump."
"Resuming," the adjutant said.
The Oppenheimer arrived at the Dalarian Shipyards, Valerian's fleet keeping just out of their scanning distance.
"Adjutant, begin silent running mode, please."
The lights on the bridge dimmed, as did the grid on the war table. The constant hum of the engines stopped, as did the rushing white noise of the fans that circulated the recycled air aboard the ship. As he watched, Nova and her covert ops crew slowly fanned out towards the shipyards. All their ships had cloaking technology, but the Moebius fleet did not and so they had to keep their distance. Valerian had researched cloaking for battlecruisers decades ago, but at the time it was not feasible. The power transfer was too costly and inefficient, so much so that they couldn't fire or maneuver while cloaked. Silent running was more effective, and it didn't leave them sitting ducks. But now… perhaps after this war I will look into it again. Whoever emerges victorious will want to immediately gain an advantage and keep their power… Valerian hated himself for the thought. But he was a survivor. His father had pressed upon him the tenets of being a Machiavellian leader. Be the lion and the fox, he thought. His father was good at being both. But he was not. He tended towards the lion, and that's what people believed he was. But everyone knew my father. They knew he would do what was good for the Dominion, and that if they crossed him, they would face the consequences. Granted, he never actually knew what was "good" for the Dominion—just what was good for him. Valerian knew people tried to take advantage of him because of his youth—and his seeming naivete. They never saw the fox underneath—And when they did, he thought, it surprised them. Now, without his position of authority, I am always the fox. I must go to burrow and ally myself with whoever is strongest—and become the lion again. For now… I wait—and watch. He hoped Horner would be the victor.
Nova would not be in position for a few minutes. He sat down in the large, ornate Louis XIV-style chair and poured himself a cup of tea from the bone china teaset that sat on the small, matching dainty table beside him. From his chair on the bridge, he looked out of the large viewport onto the stars. As long as he had lived, he never tired of looking out onto the galaxy.
There are so many stars… so many planets… He lamented that the human race fought over only a tiny fraction of them.
"CEO Valerian, Directorate ships approaching," the Oppenheimer's adjutant announced. Valerian sat bolt upright and forward in his chair. Calmly, he placed his teacup and saucer back on the table.
"On what vector? The shipyards or our position?"
"Directorate ships approaching Dalarian Shipyards from…" the Adjutant rattled off a string of coordinates that were meaningless to him. He got up swiftly and darted back to the war table in time to see the darkness of the grid light up with dozens of enemy battlecruisers.
But no carriers… at least there's that…
Valerian couldn't contact Nova without giving away both of their positions. I hope she knows they're there.
He was alone, and for now they didn't see him or his fleet. There were quite a few of them, and there were Terran Republic ships sitting in drydock that could be used either for or against them. Valerian paced around the war table, looking at the potential battlefield before him. Around him was silence, the soft purr of the bridge's electronics the only sound. He picked a datapad up off the war table. He bobbled it slightly, and the contact clicked loudly against its neosteel frame. With a few taps, Valerian began altering their plan of attack based on the increased number of ships protecting the shipyard. It was up to him—and Nova, working independently—to change their plans and with their limited resources, and regain control of the shipyards.
Stukov flinched when he heard the comm flip on in his ear. He wasn't used to an in-ear comm, and it was too loud for his now more sensitive hearing.
"We're in position," Vermaak said, his voice short.
"Good. I will begin then."
Stukov had once again found higher ground from which to survey the area—a high cliff overlooking the hatchery they had conquered and Grellna's main hive complex towering in the distance. He leapt off of it, slowing his descent with his telekinesis. As he touched down, all the forces he had hidden burrowed in the ground beneath him erupted from the surface with their fearsome, blood-hungry cries. A wave of twisted flesh and bone armored with more of the same with weapons of claw, tooth, and acid surged forward at his command both around him on the ground and in the sky. This was his grand siege, and with Vermaak's help, Grellna would fall.
His air forces swarmed in the sky, circling in a vortex, waiting for the ground troops to catch up before they launched their onslaught onto Grellna's hive. Inside the hive, Grellna had been alerted to their presence. Her units began to amass to repel his attack. Stukov unleashed his army. The two broods—Grellna's and Stukov's turned brood—met fiercely near the southern perimeter of her base at the slope of the plateau on which the hive complex stood. The zerg on the front line were churned to a froth of blood, ichor, poison and bone shards. It was a mutual massacre. His forces slowly made their way up.
"Now?" Vermaak said on the comm.
"Not yet."
Stukov reached out with his mind. Where is she? Finally, from the mouth of the hive, a bloated, reddened broodqueen waddled out into the light. She was no taller than Zagara, but she was monstrously distended by egg-laying and looked severely overbred.
"Grellna has emerged! Do it now!" Stukov bid his ground forces to retreat from the plateau. Grellna's forces held their ground—but then it fell away. The ground heaved and there were several loud explosions. Stukov watched as the plateau collapsed inward, taking the hive, the enemy zerg—and Grellna—with it. In the confusion, Stukov was able to commandeer more of Grellna's panic-stricken brood, leading them out of the rubble. He bounded into the crater, prepared to confront Grellna personally. Stukov would give her a choice if he didn't fail—for her to submit to them and live or refuse and die. Vermaak had executed his plan well. His shadow guards had discovered a series of tunnels underneath the plateau that Grellna had haphazardly used for mining. They had not been well planned and had undermined the structural integrity of the plateau. With a hard, remotely controlled, explosive nudge, the hive complex had been destroyed. Zagara said she was destroying the planet… Again, her observations were astute. Mining like this, over time, could seriously impact the stability of the planet's crust, making it uninhabitable.
A chitinous foot emerged from the rubble, scrambling to clear it away. Stukov descended on the spot, raising his infested arm, engorging it, and then bringing it down brutally on her trapped form. She squealed in agony and burst from the ground.
"Death to you, interloper! You will fall to the Swarm!"
"Hah! Your 'Swarm' is what sent me to annihilate you, Grellna! Do you not recognize me? I am Stukov, the Queen of Blade's former right hand. I have come here with a message from your queen and my compatriot, Zagara: concede or be destroyed!"
"Never! Zagara is too cowardly to raise a claw to me!"
"She has powerful friends, Grellna. An you're about to see just how powerful…" Stukov let the psionic power of the zerg flow through him. He forgot about the mud and the holes in his shirt and the blood and the pain he was in—his humanity and his human motivations. All he cared about in this moment was ending this pathetic strain of broodqueen that was a hinderance to the zerg.
"You? An infested Terran? I will crack your skull and eat your rotted brain mass!"
She rushed him. Stukov raised his claw and grabbed her head, wrapping his immense fingers around it.
"Crush my skull, eh?" He squeezed her massive, armored head. She shrieked again. "What an idea you've given me." Grellna bucked her head and spit acid at him. He growled in pain and pulled his thumb and small fingers together, crushing her mandibles. Grellna let out a muffled howl. "Yield to me, Grellna. I will spare you if you follow me into battle. Zagara has abandoned you, but I could use a brood queen to tend to my troops. I have a compatriot—a zerg compatriot—that can make you stronger… smarter…"
"Never! I would rather die than serve a human master!"
"So be it." Stukov closed his fist around Grellna's head, caving it with a gruesome series of snaps as her carapace failed. She struggled and clawed at him, but it was useless. Ichor and zerg brain matter oozed between his fingers. Immediately, what was left of her brood was staggered, stricken by the loss of their queen. He mentally connected to them as Grellna's body slumped to one side and began to decay, the poison and corrosive chemicals inside her eating her from within. As he looked at his hand, he realized dully the cruelty of what he had just done. The human part of his mind squirmed uncomfortably. His emotions came rushing back; he was mildly disgusted with himself, though what he had done had been effective. He brushed his hand on his shirt and was dismayed that the corrosive mix of her blood began to eat it away. Annoyed, he ripped it off from under his jacket and began trying to shake the rest of the disgusting liquid off.
Vermaak picked his way down into the crater in his CMC.
"I've seen some disgusting things, man. But that's in the top five."
"I'll admit I didn't think that through," he said, continuing to shake off the ichor.
As Vermaak and Stukov left the crater, Stukov ordered drones to begin clearing away the rubble and he induced the hive and its spires to heal. Vermaak went to regroup with his troops and rest. Soon, more flying zerg filled the sky, and what ground troops they had lost had been replaced. He didn't want to overwhelm the Umojans or harm them, but he wanted enough power to make Oyaleni rethink her decision and to go on and be an asset to their alliance.
"I'm ready to leave," Stukov said into his comm.
"Fine. But how're we getting back into orbit?"
"I have sent a few overlords to your position. Make sure your men are ready."
"What? Overlords? That's your plan?"
"Do you have any other ideas?"
"Stukov," he said angrily, "There has to be another way."
Stukov maneuvered an overlord into position. Through it, he could see Vermaak's marines below, tiny, like small grey petals against the dark, wet earth. The apparition of these faces in the crowd/ petals on a wet, black bough. The thought of the Earth poem shook him it had come so unbidden. It was a poem about a metro station, and experience he had many times before—being one of many, going somewhere, in the warmth and security of other people—humans—around him doing the same. He had never thought of it as comforting before. Some things you don't miss until you lose them. He realized he would miss the Uhuru if something happened to it. Vermaak's people are about to see how I live—like the men and women who survived the wreck of the Vrede. I don't think they'll like it much… at least they aren't alone.
"Stukov! Are you listening to m—"
Stukov decided to take Vermaak first, a tendril snaked down and grabbed him. He made a muted "Hup!" sound as if the wind had been pushed out of him.
"Goddamn it, Stukov!" Vermaak yelled, his voice pitching up an octave. Stukov took off his earpiece as Vermaak began to swear at him. It was hard enough for him when Vermaak spoke in a normal voice; his yelling pained him. He called for overlords for himself and for his army of zerg. A tendril stretched down for him. He let it wrap around him and pull him into the air. From here he would return to the Aleksander, which he hoped had regenerated enough to be a threat again. Izsha, he hoped, had been seeing to its recuperation. He was now powerful enough to order it from the surface, he realized, but it could not have gotten into low enough orbit to take him up. Overlords were his only choice. Soon, they would all be airborne and on their way—not to assist the fleet against the UED, but to crush the mutiny that had embroiled the Uhuru and ensnared Fleet Admiral Marín.
If they have laid a hand on her—or my son… He didn't finish the thought. But the Swarm hungered for human blood, and Stukov—angered as he was now—was not above letting them taste it.
