Part 1 Chapter 13: Beneath The Storm

2481 C.E.
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
PLANET 2472AU02
The fleet arrived at the final planet known from the Umojan maps to hold a temple somewhere. 2472AU02 was an unpleasant sight. The smooth surface of the desert world was tinted in varieties of yellow and orange. With almost no clouds, nor mountains, the planet they had come to was one huge desert, located closer to the central star of the system than any of the previous ones indicated on the alien orrery. It lacked water and life, except probably for the poles, and it lacked any reason to build anything on it, Chester thought. Funny, though, the poles. It was possible that because they were two completely isolated ecozones, the species in each one would be so fundamentally different from one another, that they had been evolving on separate worlds. Which was, in one way, not far from the truth.
The Umojan expeditionary fleet entered the hot atmosphere without much trouble. The commanders confidently moved on, willing to finish the job on this planet and do more about Xentus.
At one of the measurements, the fleet registered something. Boris was standing in the bridge, thinking about the fleet, when one of the operators said.
'Vice-admiral, incoming transmission from battlecruiser Hreimdar. It's Commodore Ferguson.'
'Oh, what could that be,' Boris approached the screen. 'Go ahead, commodore.'
'Vice-admiral, we have intercepted an unidentified flying object and destroyed it. It was coming from southwest, tried to breach the circle. The scientists are now examining it, and they think that it could be Protoss. What I can tell for sure is that it is smaller than a wraith and it seems to be unarmed.'
'Was it a scout of some sort?'
'We cannot tell for sure. Not until the Protoss arrive to tell us. We think it could be, because it has some lens, but this is all alien technology.'
'I see. Do investigate. But more importantly – keep your eyes open,' Paskirov said.
Down below, the scientists finished and the fleet moved to the remaining observation loci. When they flew towards the temple, the Terrans were in for a surprise.
Five hundred meters in the air, in the vicinity of the structure, there were Protoss carriers. Eight of them, glistening under the hot sun against the pale skies.
'Saw it,' Boris replied to one of the captains of the wanderers over the clamor of the bridge. The personnel of the Andronikos had noticed them as well. 'Adjutant, call Williams, I want him here now!'
'Yes, sir.'
Boris had no idea whose the carriers were and what their presence that close to the temple had to mean, but he knew that the major would tell him soon. In the meantime...
'All ships, battle stations!' he ordered one of the operators.
While the expeditionary fleet was slowing down and preparing to face the unexpected enemy, Williams ran through the doors of the bridge, interrupting Paskirov's speculations about the Protoss presence.
'You wanted to see me,' the ghost was breathing quickly. Several of the operators behind the computers threw a glance at the running man in everyday black ship clothing, and continued their work.
'Indeed. I want you to contact the Protoss over there and ask who they are and tell them that we are coming in peace,' Boris said slightly anxious.
The fleet, and especially the Andronikos, slowly drew closer to the unidentified carriers. Everybody was nervous, not knowing what to expect. An eerie silence had befallen the bridge of the flagship, only interrupted by the regular sounds of the computers and the checks of the dispatchers.
Then, Williams heard the deep voice of a Protoss echo through his brain.
'Greetings, cunning human. You know me from last time we met. Now, I am here to destroy you at last.'
'Who's there?' the ghost immediately thought in response to the unnerving message.
'Do you not remember me? I am Zaraldis, come here to find you and put an end to your heretical presence in our space. Your end is near, humans.'
Oh, dear, Williams thought and said to Paskirov next to him. 'It's Zaraldis.'
Hearing this, Boris went pale. So, this was the fleet of the Sei'Tara, under the command of is executor, gathered there to attack the Umojan fleet. The tribe was back on its feet after Jardis and had come to finish the job. Eight carriers in total. The vice-admiral could feel his stomach turning.
'Mike... Ask them what they want,' he tried to save time to organize the fleet.
'What is it that you want of us, Protoss?' Williams thought, trying to sound diplomatic.
'We want to see you destroyed, human. Your crimes against the Dark Templar are about to be punished and we were sent to execute your sentence,' the coldness of the executor's thoughts made them ever more threatening.
'He's here to destroy us because we have committed crimes against the tribe.' the ghost interpreted. 'Not good.'
Boris spent a few seconds in thought before asking the next question. The odds were not in his favor and he had to even them somehow.
'Ask them whether we can give them the sphere and, perhaps, leave?' he instructed the ghost.
'Wai... What? Are you out of your mind?' Williams said more shocked than usual.
'Now, now, we must live to fight another day, when the balance of powers is better. And, besides, the artifact had more or less fulfilled its goal up to now,' Paskirov clarified.
'Black One, you do not have the authority to trade the sphere...'
Paskirov looked at him and said in a tone that reflected the gravity of the situation. 'Look, the man who can do that is aboard another ship, struggling with madness. Do you suggest that we phone McNorman and inform him of the little problem we have? Sure, why not, he might as well mention something about his relatives. This is a crisis here!'
The fleets were standing still.
'Alright,' Williams said and took a deep breath, focusing. 'We will give you the sphere if you let us go.'
Then, he heard something like a laughter echo through his mind.
'Do you really think that such petty offers are something we are willing to negotiate about? Your arrogance and your folly have really blinded you, pitiful Terrans. No, we decline. Before today has passed, will take the sphere from the wreckage of your vessels. Make your stand.'
Williams was repeating to the vice-admiral when the carriers began slowly drifting aside, rearranging themselves.
Paskirov sighed. 'It is done, then. Thank you, major, at ease. Hold on.'
'Are we fighting them, Boris?'
'We cannot escape them now. And, besides, they asked for it. Time to take the initiative.'
Williams nodded and walked away, while Paskirov began giving orders.
The Terran fleet did not split into the three old task groups. This time Boris wanted to try a new tactic that had to minimize damage, and also wanted to avoid repeating previous methods of fighting. The Wanderer-class vessels were arranged in a long line facing northwards at the enemy carriers. Between them, there were the science vessels. This line of the fleet was instructed to engage the enemy ships and delay them. The science vessels would use their defensive matrices and their EMP missiles to strengthen the wanderers and possibly cripple the enemy carriers. Behind them, the battlecruisers were already opening fire with their main batteries at the Protoss ships in the distance. Boris could see the bluish explosions on the surface of the carriers marking each hit from his fleet's lasers. But that was just warming up before his big plan.
The carriers had left the temple and were approaching the humans slowly but relentlessly. As they were flying southwards, the main line of the Umojans was standing still. Then, the battlecruisers stopped firing. Boris noticed the surprise and fear on the faces of the officers on the bridge of the Andronikos. Williams, who was there, looked at the vice-admiral with a questioning expression.
'Boris, why aren't we firing?'
Paskirov smiled at him, trying to hide his anxiety. 'You'll see in a minute. Adjutant, let the Hreimdar and the Graf von Moltke begin maneuvers for phase two.'
Then, Williams saw. The two other battlecruisers left of the Andronikos began turning westwards, behind the left part of the battle line. The capital ship followed them.
'Are the enemy in range for the EMP's?' the vice-admiral said loudly as the three capital ships lined up and faced the positions of the carriers on the other side of the Wanderer-class vessels.
'Estimated time until they are in range – one minute,' one of the operators replied.
'Good! Tell the battle line to open fire. The science vessels may begin activating defensive matrices when ready.'
'I hope you know what you're doing, Black One...' Williams said.
'Oh, I do. Better than anyone else...'
The Wanderer-class vessels, in the meantime, had began their cannonade. Their batteries were sending everything they had against the eight massive carriers now a kilometer an a half away. Not surprisingly, most of their captains thought, in vain. The Protoss shields negated all the little lasers that were flying at the huge ships, sparkling in blue and revealing the untouched golden hull beneath.
'Enemy warships in EMP range in thirty seconds.'
'All battlecruisers – rise and fire!' Boris shouted. 'Hold on, everyone!'
A few seconds later, Williams suddenly felt his body grow heavier. He struggled to stay upright, grabbing onto the nearby window, as the Andronikos suddenly began gaining altitude. He looked at the vice-admiral, who was also holding on to the railings over the console section, also trying to stay upright. It was the ship's gravity generators. The gravity generators of the Andronikos had generated a sudden increase in thrust downwards that pushed the heavy battlecruiser upwards over the plane of the battle line of the Wanderer-class vessels. At the same time, because the gravity generators compensated for the gravitational repulsion downwards, they also generated a gravitational pull of the same magnitude towards their upper sides. As a result, the people aboard the battlecruiser felt as if they had suddenly put on lead clothes. Does he even know if the ships' bases can withstand this madness? Williams asked himself, slowly emerging upwards as the gravitational pull of the Andronikos' systems was returning to normal. Apparently they did.
Now, the three battlecruisers had climbed over the line of the Wanderer-class vessels, overseeing the field of battle. The curved engines at the rears of the enemy carriers were glowing white, pushing the golden ships forward.
'Enemy warships in EMP range, commander.'
'Fire! Burn them!' Paskirov said quickly. 'All batteries, prepare to open fire at the leftmost carrier. Tell the other two carriers to open fire when the EMP's strike the carriers!'
The dispatchers processed the orders while six tiny missiles that quickly separated from the science vessels quickly soared into the carriers. As they reached the enemy ships, no explosion happened. The officers on the bridge were looking attentively. A second later, six shockwaves of energy rippled through the shields of the carriers in powerful bluish waves. Then, the carriers seemed to slow their pace and the glow of their engines faded to black.
The bright light of the Andronikos' wing-mounted batteries illuminated the bridge, along with the lasers from the other two battlecruisers. The energy projectiles sank into the first carrier, straining its psi shielding into one final light blue glow, then hit the golden hull, bursting parts of it into flame and debris.
It was working! Paskirov smiled, looking at the amazing effects the EMP had on the carriers. Many valuable minutes of pounding on the Protoss' magic-like defenses were merged into one simple piece of technology. Maybe they had a chance after all.
The Protoss themselves had to be astounded. The three battlecruisers had suddenly risen above the human fleet and were wrecking the first battlecruiser, while the Protoss force stood there like sitting ducks, their electronics or whatever they had fried from the EMP's.
'Send all wraiths against the enemy!' Boris ordered. Then, he remembered something and turned to Williams. 'Mike, can you tell which ship is Zaraldis in?'
The ghost considered the question for two seconds and replied. 'No, sorry. I cannot tell the direction. Nor the distance.'
'Never mind.'
The wraiths flew against the Protoss carriers at maximum speed. Once in range, they began firing against the capital ships, aiming at what seemed to be their bridges. The carriers had no batteries of their own. The Terran fighters just flew around the enormous vessels, gliding along their hulls and chaotically firing their lasers. It was not long before the top panel of the rightmost carrier – its assumed bridge – burst into bright bluish flames and smoke under the many missiles fired at it. The wraith pilots cheered, seeing the carrier itself swerving clumsily to one side and tilting itself downwards. At the same time, the last carrier, which was fired upon by the powerful guns of the battlecruisers, burst into a bright explosion. It had given in to the combined firepower of the Andronikos, the Graf, and the Hreimdar and the force of its explosion hurled scorched debris hundreds of meters away in the air, in addition to pushing the carrier next to it aside.
It was falling to the sand, but at the last time it somehow managed to correct the course and made a rough turn backwards. The wraith commander ordered a pursuit, when something grabbed his attention. Where the fighters' lasers and missiles were clashing with the golden armor, bluish glows began to surround the impact. The Protoss shields were re-appearing.
Aboard the Andronikos, the crew was also noticing that. The engines of the big carriers were flashing again, as if trying to start, and, one by one, they were ignited again. Boris found it hard to believe what he was seeing. Weren't the EMP's supposed to permanently disable the enemy power grid? Well, apparently it didn't work that well on the Protoss' advanced technology. The scientists would think over this. Now, he had to deal with the friction of the battle.
The wraiths withdrew to the main line of Wanderer-class ships, leaving the beheaded foe to retreat. The vice-admiral decided for a better response to the incoming enemy carriers.
'Prepare the Yamato cannon. Aim it at the leftmost enemy ship.'
Williams looked out with interest. He noticed that all the other officers by the windows were doing the same thing. Just in front of the hammerhead of the Andronikos, a reddish glow appeared. Gradually, it grew thicker and thicker, with bright flares dancing around in it.
'All science vessels, EMP's, again, fire!' Boris shouted in a hurry. A few seconds later, the small missiles flew out from the round vessels and exploded into the Protoss front, again crippling the enemy ships that were now dangerously close. Yet, the focus of all eyes in the expeditionary fleet, it seemed to Williams, was focused on the charging Yamato cannon. A few long moments of tense stillness aboard the Andronikos passed on the background of the buzzing and hissing of the huge ball of energy at the battlecruiser's hammerhead. Then, it erupted.
A flash of bright light, and several waves of red and orange flames and energy that looked like lab-produced fireballs were ejected straight forward from the flagship's nose. With an amazing speed, faster than even the projectiles of the ships' cannons, the fiery eruption of destruction lanced into the the outermost carrier of the Protoss' right flank. As it was absorbed by the hull of the enemy vessel, it bathed it in light and fire. Then, when the light faded away in front of the eyes of the staggered Terrans, the overpowered carrier began to break down. Burned up by the energy weapon, small explosions began appearing on parts of its overheated hull. Paskirov could not believe how it was still standing.
'Battlecruisers, open fire!' he shouted. 'The rest of the ships, don't just stand there!'
The wanderers resumed wearing down the crippled enemy carriers while the three large pairs of canons resumed fire. As the first wave of the battlecruisers' big guns hit the battered carrier, now a flying burning wreck, its fate was sealed. Unable to withstand any more damage from the Terrans' weaponry, it was destroyed in another quick spectacular explosion of blue radiance and debris.
'Yeah, who's winning now, stupid alien?' Bracknell said with a smile. The people on the bridge of the Andronikos laughed and cheered at the battle.
Despite for the success, there were still five enemy carriers, only a kilometer away. This was dangerously close to the critical range of the EMP's, which threatened the integrity of the human ships' own power lines and electronics, despite for the installed countermeasures. The enemy was harmed, but still dangerous, and the engagement was far from over.
'Keep firing,' Paskirov ordered, turning to heed one of the opearators. 'What?'
'Sir, there's a sandstorm coming from the east.'
He stared at the operator, without expression. 'After how much time will it reach us?'
'Best estimates are about an hour, sir.' That was enough to allow the fighting to continue.
'Thank you for informing me,' the vice-admiral said and returned to direct the engagement. 'Fire the Yamato cannon at the enemy carrier in the center.'
'Sir, there's not enough energy. The Yamato cannon exhausted the Titan reactor and the ship's grid had not enough power.'
'Right. How much time until we can fire again?'
'Half an hour. Maybe ten minutes if we preserve all power and not use the batteries, the radios, the lights, et cetera...' the operator was saying.
Unfortunately, that was impossible. 'Thank you,' Boris said and focused on solving the issue of the enemy force with some conventional Terran means.
The carriers, bruised and still dizzy from the electric surges inflicted by the Terran technology, were determinately charging the main line of the humans. Under what suppressive fire the wanderers and the battlecruisers could gather, the Protoss released their starfighters and their tiny robotic interceptors. In response, the center of the Umojans pulled slightly backwards and the vice-admiral devoted the wraiths to the fighting.
A full-scale battle ensued. Boris was finding it hard to find himself and the real situation down there with all the chaotic messages he received aboard the flagship. It was clear now, that the success of the engagement was up to the individual skills of the pilots and the gunners behind the ships' smaller armament, behind the operators of the science vessels and the other ships. All he could do was watch the Andronikos, the Graf von Moltke, and the Hreimdar contribute to the fire of his fleet, hoping that the Terrans would wear down the Protoss force before it did the same to them.
The aliens were now realizing their strong sides. Their sophisticated ship technology was superior to the humans' and in the ensuing combat, the stronger and more agile golden Protoss units were showing their worth, making up for the devastation of the Terrans' ranged assaults. The two fleets were caught in each other's claws.
Boris had lost perception of time when he heard a dispatcher telling him something. He focused. 'Sir, the sandstorm is coming and will be here in ten minutes.'
'What, come again?'
'The sandstorm in the distance is fast upon us. What shall we do?'
That was news. He looked at the statuses of his fleet. The ships were holding, but were wearing down.
'Michael! Come over here!' he called the ghost. 'We have to do something, and you are just the man... Ahem, ghost. Try to contact Zaraldis and tell him that we offer a ceasefire until the storm has abated. Alright?'
Williams looked questioningly at the tired vice-admiral and agreed. 'Yes, give me a second.'
The ghost closed his eyes and focused. He thought as strongly as he could, hoping it was in the direction of the group of carriers, whatever that meant, that the executor could hear.
'Zaraldis, heed me. I have a message. We want to stop the battle because of the storm. Hear me!'
Shortly, the familiar Protoss' voice echoed in his head. 'So, you wish to negotiate again? Cowardly of you, it would seem. Yet again, the winds do blow unfavorably. It is true that a prolongation of our strife will be the undoing of both of us. Your proposal is meaningful.'
'He says...' Williams turned to Boris, trying to simplify what he just heard, 'that he agrees and that our proposal is meaingful.'
'Tell them to pull back, then. We shall be waiting for him when the storm is out. In the meantime, we are heading south.'
The ghost interpreted and Zaraldis answered. 'I find your conditions acceptable, humans. My force will go back, north of the venerated ruins. When nature calms its wrath, our faiths will be revealed on the field.'
'He agrees and says that he is heading north and that we'll fight again when the storm is out.' The ghost was not trained to pay attention to fancy words and proudly abided by that laconic Confederate tradition.
'Thank you, Mike. All units, cease fire and pull out! Everybody in the ships, we're stepping aside,' Paskirov ordered the fleet.
The Terrans and the Protoss disentangled and the expeditionary fleet flew south, hoping to escape the winds. However, the storm front was too great and they had to land. Of course, the battle could have been continued above the storm, somewhere in the higher atmosphere, but Boris did not want to risk fighting there. The farther away the ships were from the surface, he knew, the less favourable the conditions were and so the more harm could be caused in case a window was broken or a pilot had to eject. The Protoss fleet was now far away in the distance, three kilometers from the temple in the opposite direction. Looking at them and the dark clouds approaching them from the east, Boris had an idea. The storm did not allow for any air support or long-range detection. It was like a veil for anything beneath the gushes of wind and sand in the air. If the ground troops headed towards the enemy positions in this weather, they could get close to the enemy carriers unnoticed and severely damage the enemy ships under their grip.
'Adjutant, give orders to the ground force to deploy immediately before the storm has gotten any worse,' Boris ordered.
'Sir?'
'You heard me, tell them!'
And so, in the growing winds, the infantry and the armor were quickly ferried to the ground by the dropships. With only INFCOM Alpha remaining to guard the ships in the sands, the rest of the infantry battalion and the companies of tanks and goliaths formed up in on the sandy ground in front of the ships. In addition, two thirds of the Dark Templar joined the battalion in addition to the demolitions corps.
'Heuven,' the vice-admiral told the colonel, 'your task is to get to the enemy ships and deal maximum harm to them. Use any means necessary. They should be in the sands somewhere. Inform me on everything that you see.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Waste no time on your way there. The temple can wait – the storm cannot. Nothing can fly in there, so you are all going on foot. On the bright side, they can't use air units. Is everything ready down there?'
'The forces are all prepared, sir,' Heuven answered. 'We're waiting for your command.'
'Go, then.' Paskirov said and closed the line.
Boris strolled around in the bridge of the Andronikos. The huge ship was now laying in the sands of the planet, the winds beating sand against the neosteel hull. Through the windows only dark yellow mist could be seen where the dunes once were. The flat landscape around the alien ruins was veiled from their eyes so thickly that even Boris' sight could not even reach the hammerhead beyond the swirling sand.
Down below, between a tank platoon and an infantry platoon from INFCOM Delta, Williams was checking his rifle. Damned sand, he thought, gotta be careful with reloading or it might get in the mechanisms and I'll be helpless. He looked around at the troops preparing to head north. The visibility was awful and in the clouds of sand the humans would be nearly blind. Not to mention the sand getting into the sections of the troops' armor and limiting their movements. Well, he remembered, such limitations will affect the enemy as well, when their own force comes at the Terrans. Trust Boris to teach them Protoss a lesson in honesty. He was a decent guy, now all these promotions have had a bad effect on him.
The troops were ready and without further ado, they set off to the eight-kilometer march northwards to the defenseless alien ships.
Four kilometers northwards, the units of the battalion were relentlessly beating against the winds. The clever idea of one of the professors from the science vessels to land the ships in a line was very useful. It allowed the ground force to find its position on the east-west abscissa on the map coordinates by monitoring what signals they were receiving. The ships, placed four hundred meters from one another, were configured to send radio signals straight northwards, so by knowing which signal a unit from the small army was getting, it could know whether it was deviating left or right.
As the heavy tanks were struggling with the sand and the wind, the black-and-gold CMC combat suits of the marines were grinding the sand caught in their joints. It was getting dark, as if dusk was setting in, and the troops turned on what lights they had. Only the Dark Templar that were marching alongside them seemed undisturbed by the strong wind and the sand. Under their wide dark robes and veils, the Protoss warriors moved ever smoothly through the inhospitable conditions.
***
Aboard the Andronikos, Boris was dealing with some mundane details when he remembered McNorman and the condition he was in. Boris decided to see how the admiral was doing, so he contacted Richardson.
'You wanted to see me... Sir,' the commodore appeared on the screen.
'Right. How is Admiral McNorman?' Paskirov asked.
'There are signs of improvement, yes, but the doctors cannot tell for sure when he will be back on his feet.'
'Is he more quiet now?'
'He is more serene and and seems more interested in the fleet.'
'What does he know of our actions?' Boris nervously asked.
'So far nothing, as you requested,' Richardson said with disapproval.
'You know that we need not bother him with the issues that our fleet is trying to resolve.'
'I hope he approves when he is fine, vice-admiral.'
'That we have yet to see, commodore.'
***
In the dark of the sandstorm, the ground troops were moving onwards. Williams was feeling the effects of the physical exertion despite for his excellent training. Then, he saw Protoss in front of him.
He looked more carefully at the silhouettes of the aliens about fourty meters away through the zoom of the scope. They were armored in their sleek golden plates and were quickly moving through the sand, despite for the slight flaws in their motion caused by, he surmised, sand grains in their suits.
He radioed Paskirov. 'Commander, we have unidentified Protoss. Requesting new orders.'
***
In the Andronikos, Paskirov was startled to hear this. What were the Protoss doing here? That could not be good. The only possible explanation he could think of seeing the soldiers of the opposing side going through the sandstorm was that Zaraldis had come up with an idea similar to his own – sneak under the table. Playing dirty, eh? Well, revenge was not the exact response to uncovering the enemy's tricks when they were similar to one's own, so it had come to more of out-backstabbing now.
'Major, you may fire at will,' he told Williams with maximum formality, knowing it would please him. Then, Boris called Heuven. 'Colonel, some of your units have had contact with hostile Protoss. You may now consider your movement north and armed advance.'
'Confirmed, commander. We will burn our way through anything that comes against us,' Boris could swear that Heuven's words were coming through a smile.
'Don't hold back unless threatened, colonel. Get to the enemy as fast as possible and keep the pressure on them.'
***
Around Williams, the armed response of the surrounding troops to the presence of Protoss had annihilated the enemy. The group was moving on, carefully and ready to fire, but also quickly, trying not to lose the tempo. The lines of the different units were merging in the midst of the chaotic storm, but nobody could do anything about it as of now.
Suddenly, the four-legged figure of a Protoss machine was silhouetted against the thick clouds in front of Williams.
'A dragoon!' he could hear the cry of one of the Dark Templar somewhere nearby in his head.
The nearby tank saw it, too, and turned its turret at it, firing its twin cannons with a loud crack. The Protoss machine swung back from the inertia of the shells, but the familiar bluish glow contrasted to the golden surface and the dry sands hovering all around, taking much of the impact. Then, something opened on the top of the dragoon and a ball of plasma materialized in the air just above it and crashed against the front of the tank. The small explosion flashed at Williams and the ghost looked the other way. The tank fired again, now joined by nearby marines. This time, the Terran attacks breached the psi shields and the Protoss was getting badly damaged. Williams aimed. Through the scope of his C-10, he found a joint where one of the huge legs was connected to the body of the dragoon. He pressed the trigger.
The dragoon's mechanisms could not bear more and it disintegrated into pieces. Blue goo leaked from its wrecked body and into the sand while the rest of its defunct parts fell on the ground.
The next gush of wind revealed something worse. Two other dragoons were approaching quick, accompanied by a zealot. Over the radio, Williams could hear confused voices over the gunfire and the noise of battle. He did not know how many other enemies were out there, nor whether or not the Terrans were winning or losing. All he knew was that he was responsible for winning in his own little twenty-meter wide zone of the battlefield and that he would have to do something about the incoming enemy.
It was time for the experimental ammo to prove itself. He rapidly changed the magazine of the C-10 to the one with lockdown rounds. The scientists told him that this could harm machinery. He hoped they were right.
Shots were already exchanged when Williams took a careful aim at the second dragoon. He fired. The enemy fighting machine was electrocuted. Bright lightnings began crawling over its surface once the lockdown round pierced its armor and dug somewhere inside its interior. The dragoon was immobilized and disarmed.
Williams ducked instinctively. The zealot had swung towards him with one of his blades. Williams dodged the attack and the blade pierced the side armor of the tank, but the zealot was ready to strike with his other blade. The ghost wasted no time and hit the Protoss in the chest with the stock of his rifle. The alien lost balance from the strength of the push, almost falling backwards in the sand. A shadow appeared on top of the tank.
Williams saw a cloaked Dark Templar, jump down from the top of the tank with a lighted blade. As the Protoss' feet touched the sand, its blade sank in the neck of the zealot.
The major proceeded forwards, looking at the coming enemies. He saw there were dark templar there, too – the Sei'Tara's own special warriors. They were almost cloaked. The flying sand was hitting against them and their robes, marking their silhouettes and negating their invisibility. Williams returned to conventional ammo and prepared to fire.
After half an hour, the engagement was over. The humans' numerical superiority turned out to be decisive for the outcome of the fight and now, by orders of the colonel, they were heading north again.
The Terrans were hurrying through the winds, not knowing what they were competing with. In reality, nobody knew where the Protoss would come from or where they were headed to. At one point, Williams inferred from the soldiers' talking that they had passed the temple. That meant that the Protoss ships were not far away.
While the men were pushing against the winds, enemy Protoss began to appear again. Caught in the sandstorm, Williams joined the soldiers around him in the desperate fighting, shooting his best and hoping that the zealots and the dragoons would yield. The aliens, however, fought fanatically, not retreating even when faced with the destructive twin cannons of the tanks or the quick and powerful twin autocannons of the goliath walkers. Intoxicated by the adrenaline, Williams almost ignored the explosion of a tank near him in the midst of the intense battle. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The enemies were gone, along with some of the Terran troops and armor, but Williams looked around in the emptiness of the swirling winds and realized that his side were the last men standing. The troops were rejoicing.
***
On the bridge of the Andronikos, Boris was struggling with the anxiety when the news came.
'There are no more hostiles, sir,' Heuven reported.
The relief came to him like a tidal wave, taking away his concerns and fears. He took a deep breath and told Heuven, 'Colonel, congratulations. Proceed to the enemy positions and destroy their ships. As many as possible.'
Calmed down, Boris looked at the map. This time, the Protoss had come from both front, and back. He wondered if the aliens were trying to cut the battalion off. Or, had they returned in an effort to destroy the human ground force? If they were, this was good news. The enemy had been reacting to the actions of the Umojans. The expeditionary fleet had the initiative.
***
Williams was really tired when the huge shadow of the first carrier finally rose in front of them. He reported to Heuven with the news of the discovery of the alien ship, the first for the six remaining. The infantry established a perimeter around it while the engineers walked to the enormous hull and placed explosives at their best guess. The soldiers then retreated and saw the huge blast shine through the yellow murkiness of the abating storm. The carrier's hull was badly damaged and the golden surface was broken up. Continuing the rage, the tanks opened fire forwards, indiscriminately and against the helpless ship. Williams tried to look in the distance and see if there were any Protoss in the windows of the carrier, or whether it had windows in the first place. Nonetheless, the visibility was too poor.
The infantry battalion had found two other carriers, as well, and had began damaging them to the best of their abilities. Finding the engines and the interior of the carriers, the humans were blowing up the important parts, aiming at evening the scales.
Williams and some marines had walked around the third carrier's side and were escorting a demolitions team into its nose. The sight of the huge ship's interior was amazing. Although partially buried in the sand, the greater part of the two gigantic golden petal-shaped plates at the sides and the one on top rose high in the air, sheltering the interior from the storm. In the distance, there was a tall black wall where the huge bay ended, covered with faint blue lights. The main body of the carrier, at its back.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, several zealots appeared and attacked the flanks of the group. The ghost was rudely brought back from his awe at the Protoss capital ship into the harsh reality. Before the humans could return fire, the psi blades of the aliens had already cut up the black armor of several marines and had killed the soldiers. The group responded with a hail of bullets and napalm, to the shock of the demolitions team. When the enemies were dead, Williams checked to see if he was harmed or even alive. Then, he heard a voice.
'Human!'
'Who's that?' the major thought, although the voice sounded familiar.
'I am Zaraldis, the executor, and I wish to offer you my surrender.'
Williams' pupils dilated.
'Black one, this is Mike,' he immediately radioed Paskirov. 'I have some pretty surprising news for you.'
***
Paskirov was standing at the console, with Bracknell and some other officers behind him. 'Go ahead, major.'
'Sir, I... I heard from Zaraldis. He wants to surrender.'
'What?' Boris could not believe his ears.
'Let me check again,' the cold voice of the ghost was heard before a ten-second pause. 'Confirmed, he wants to surrender. In exchange for ceasefire. 'guess we got him.'
Victory! The Terrans had managed to beat the Protoss against all odds. The vice-admiral laughed at the news. Somehow, the Terrans had defied the vast powers of the Protoss once again, and were finding themselves triumphant over the defeated foes. He held his face in his hands, trying to keep his breathing steady against the incoming ecstasy.
'Tell him,' Boris said, trying not to laugh in cheerfulness, 'that we accept.'
Then, for the second time this day, he ordered the troops to cease fire.
***
'We accept your surrender, Protoss,' Williams thought.
'Today is a sad day for the Sei'Tara tribe. We fought valiantly, but somehow you have bested us, bold human,' Zaraldis told the ghost, who checked with almost sadistic impersonality whether or not these words were of any informational value, then discarded what he heard.
He clicked a button on his radio to answer an incoming transmission. 'Major Williams here.'
'It's me, Boris. I've something for the executor. I want you to bring them to us aboard the Andronikos.'
The ghost sensed the hubris and smiled. 'Wow, Boris, you sure know how to teach them who's boss.'
'That. And some questions,' Paskirov said and paused. 'Good to know this fleet of ours isn't screwing around, eh?'
'Yes,' the ghost was disciplined again.
'Alright, do it. Zaraldis and the other commanders of these carriers, in addition to Zaraldis' second-in-command are to get out and come to the Andronikos as captives. Over and out.'
'With extreme pleasure,' Williams said to the dead connection. The ghost was going to enjoy this.
'Zaraldis!'
'I am here, human,' the executor appeared in his mind.
'You, your substitute in this fleet, as well as all the commanders of the carriers – leave your ships immediately. It's payback time.'
Williams could sense stream of doubt and anger. Then, Zaraldis' voice again appeared. 'Yes. We are going out.'
Twenty minutes later, seven well-dressed Protoss were surrounded by marines, ghosts, and Dark Templar among the battle position of the battalion. In between the tanks and the other Terran infantry, Williams was looking at Zaraldis and the six other high-ranking Protoss inside the circle of rifles. Adelnur, too, was present. Williams could feel his satisfaction with the sudden victory and the great spoils of war, and even saw the Dark Templar rise a bit once the Sei'Tara commanders were forced to kneel at gunpoint.
The sandstorm had abated and the strong sun was again shining upon the wide desert up from the cerulean skies. The dropship that would pick the Protoss VIP's was on its way, but Williams didn't want it to come too quick. When it did, the amazed pilot landed it on the sand next to one of the tanks, and walked to the cargo compartment to look at the captives with his own eyes. The seven aliens, in all their uniforms, were walking forward to the dropship with two ghosts behind each, holding the muzzles of their rifles against their shoulders. The enemies were loaded into the transport and were sent on their way to the victors' camp.
***
Aboard the Andronikos, the high command were all assembled in the conference room. They were all happy, having heard of the news from the battlefield, and awaiting for the arrival of their Protoss adversaries, now subdued through strategy and cleverness.
'So, gentlemen,' Paskirov stepped forward, 'today was a great day for this huge operation we are undertaking. We have beaten the Sei'Tara army in battle. We have managed to take out the fangs of the snake, if I may say so. Their commanders are on their way, escorted by our men and some of our allied Dark Templar.'
'Very impressive, I have to admit,' Ferguson said.
'Thank you. I'm glad that the innovations that I introduced to this fleet from my old service with the Confederates have helped achieve today's results.' He wondered if they knew how right he was.
'What shall do with the aliens?' Summers raised the issue.
'Most importantly, they will be treated with respect. We need to remember that our enemy is only Xentus and our priority is to disturb him. His generals are not responsible for what was done,' Paskirov replied.
'Yet, they did work to harm and destroy this expeditionary fleet, nobody can deny that. We must punish them for that!' Richardson argued.
'They were obeying orders from Xentus, commodore. Just as we were obeying orders from the Umojan government when we freed the two professors. The executor cannot be held responsible for our strife so far. Something more, we should strive to enlighten them into the nature of the whole situation. They should see the truth and join us. If we succeed in...' Boris tried to continue, but was interrupted by the disorder his words were producing. He remembered McNorman. 'Silence!'
Everybody shut up.
'We must attempt to show the leaders of the Sei'Tara forces what mess their chieftain is leading them in. This is the better way to proceed from now on.'
'Are you joking, sir?' Ferguson dared say.
'Oh, no. I'm not. I'm completely serious, commodore. Do not make the mistake, gentlemen, to forget that our greatest enemy is the Zerg swarm. We must gather all forces in our attempts to preclude the discovery of the slab, or to destroy it, and if we can find potential allies among the Protoss, we absolutely must,' Paskirov made it patent to the officers.
'So, I guess we just offer them a handshake after all we did to them and ask them to call it a day?' Summers was skeptical about this.
'No, we will show them what Xentus' actions can lead to. When they realize, they will join us,' the vice-admiral stressed.
'I certainly hope it will work. So far, these aliens have not been acting entirely soberly,' Ferguson mentioned.
'Oh,' Boris murmured, hearing the ping of the little transmitter on his belt, 'they are here.'
A minute later, the high command gasped in awe as the seven aliens elegantly stepped in. Their skin was wrinkled – proof of their seniority – and their good garments testified to their high positions in the Sei'Tara hierarchy. The Protoss were wearing bright grey robes and various pieces of golden armor. Their clothes were clean, albeit sandy, and they even had jewelry. Their glowing purple eyes showed what seemed to be anger.
One of them, whom Williams accompanied to the middle of the room, holding a pistol against his back, had a tiara.
'May I present,' Paskirov said in a serious tone, trying to avoid useless drama, 'the Executor of the Sei'Tara, Zaraldis.'
The same eyes... The vice-admiral remembered. The same eyes I saw when I was captured with Anders. Well, roles have switched, eh? You cannot stand against our strategy, foolish alien.
'So, this is the enemy general?' Richardson said, smiling.
'Indeed he is. The other six Protoss are the captains of the surviving carriers: Altoris, Ressavar, Arristedes, Nelutis, Ordenis and Halcynis. Major, you may interrupt us at any time if the executor has anything to say. Now, to see what he can tell us,' Boris began and turned to Zaraldis with many questions about the Sei'Tara and Xentus. The officers were listening attentively like the jury in a courtroom, while Williams was interpreting Zaraldis' responses.
The executor's account of the Sei'Tara tribe matched that of the separatists. It was even more limited in scope, as the executor did not question the actions of his master. Zaraldis seemed to know nothing beyond the official dogma imposed by the mysterious chieftain. However, what he did know about Xentus was not useless. Constantly interfering with his army's movements, his intentions seemed to do more harm than aid for the fight of the tribe with the Zerg.
When the essential information about the tribe was finished, Boris began revealing the truth about the slab to him.
'Executor, how do you know that the slab you are seeking is, indeed, the bearer of great powers of unknown essence?'
'He says he trusts his master and is loyal to the tribe in successes as well as failures,' Williams coldly interpreted.
Boris looked into the glowing purple eyes. 'Executor, is there anything in this world more important for you than your tribe?'
'No.'
The vice-admiral leaned closer to Zaraldis. 'Then, if your tribe was making a mistake, and you knew that it would have dreadful consequences, would you do anything to avert the disaster?'
Zaraldis seemed to give the question some consideration, then his answer came through the words of the ghost. 'I would.'
'Then, executor,' Paskirov kept looking him in the eyes, 'would you refuse to obey an order by your superiors if you knew that it would harm your tribe?'
The Protoss stood silent for a while, then the cold voice of the major was heard. 'No.'
'This is a waste of time, sir, just tell him,' Richardson said from the audience.
Maybe the commodore was right. 'Zaraldis, the slab that your lord, Xentus, seeks, is not what it seems to be. You think that it will give you power to stop the Zerg. In reality, it holds a dark secret, one that will threaten both your, and my species if unveiled,' Boris made a pause to let Williams translate and a bit of suspense to mount. 'The slab holds a formula, some way by which the Zerg can assimilate your kin into the Swarm.'
This time, the executor was quick to reply. 'I do not believe you, human.'
'Listen, Protoss, your tribe is working towards its own destruction because your chieftain does not know what he is about to find. Only destruction awaits you if that slab is not destroyed. Do you understand?'
'Still doesn't believe, sir,' Williams remarked with mocking casualness.
'Damn, bring an archaeologist here!' Boris was angered. 'And tell him to bring the special pack.'
'Special pack?' Summers asked from his seat.
'Yes, a little thing that they found at that infested Confederate gas refining settlement. You'll see.'
Shortly, one of the archaeologists from the separatist volunteers entered the room, carrying a bag with something inside. He gave it to Paskirov, then walked against Zaraldis and spent the next several minutes looking at the executor's eyes.
Then, Williams said, 'The executor refuses to believe that the slab is a carrier of such a formula that the archaeologist claims is real, on the grounds that the archaeologist is a heretic.'
Some of the officers dropped their faces into their palms.
'With all due respect, commander, this will lead us nowhere,' Ferguson skeptically remarked.
Paskirov was trying to think of what to do. The talks were pointless. Then, he decided to try his idea.
'Gentlemen,' Paskirov introduced the object he was taking out of the bag, 'this is an object that the forensics teams, that is, our scientists, found in the rubble of the destroyed Zerg colony on planet 2473NO05, also known according to the Confederate records we found as “Remta 5.”'
The vice-admiral began unfolding the ragged black piece of cloth in front of the officers and Zaraldis. He revealed the lining at one of the sides of the rag. It had strange runes over it.
'Do you, Zaraldis, recognize this?'
'It is the insignia of the master, Xentus.'
Just as the separatists confirmed.
The Terran high command were intrigued. Williams was bewildered. Was Paskirov suggesting that Xentus was dead?
'When did you last see your master, Zaraldis?' the vice-admiral asked.
'I saw him about a day ago, before I left to this planet, as he instructed,' Williams heard Zaraldis and repeated the response aloud.
'Where was your master at that time?'
'At the Sei'Tara homeworld.'
'Where was your master before he arrived to your home planet? Was he out looking for artifacts?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me, Zaraldis,' the vice-admiral began with his softest tone, 'how do you suppose this piece of cloth found its way into that colony?'
'He doesn't know,' Williams interpreted with pity. 'And, he says, there is no reason not to believe that the chieftain was on Remta 5 when the Zerg arrived.'
And he was right. Boris knew that this was largely a waste of time. Trying to convince the executor like this was like trying to make a hole through solid rock simply by pouring water onto it continuously.
One of the officers said. 'Sir, are you implying that Xentus could be allied with the Zerg or anything?'
'That is a possibility, Perez. Yet, an unconfirmed one. Never mind, there is nothing more we can do now. The meeting is adjourned,' Paskirov replied and the officers began leaving.
'What do I do with him, commander?' Williams pointed at Zaraldis.
'We'll find him a cell. In the meantime... These other Protoss – they should be taken back to the carriers.'
'What?'
'That's right. We need to show some good will. Especially after their... Extraction. Especially that they could prove to be allies,' Paskirov said with a mentorial tone.
'I...' the ghost tried to speak.
'Now, now, Michael, I know what I'm doing. These guys need to listen to reason. And we will make it easier for them. I will leave a garrison on each carrier... If they refuse to listen. But until then, we must keep the good tone of the conversation.'
***
In the evening, Paskirov was talking with Summers about the rags.
'There is no way that these rags just teleported there, Steve.'
'I know, Boris, but isn't it simply ridiculous?'
'Ridiculous or not, it has to be true. There is no other logical explanation. Unless we take the fact that Zerg like to carry around garbage they find in different planets to be true. I'm telling you, it may sound strange, but if Xentus really IS an ally to the Zerg, which would perfectly explain a whole lot of things, then we could overthrow him! And purge the tribe of the ideological propaganda and solve the issue with the slab.'
'How do you intend to find whether Xentus is a friend of the Swarm?' Summers was interested.
'I haven't come up with a way yet. But I'll think of something.'