The Arbiter Tribunal

On how to live

2011-12-22T02:33:00.001+02:00

About a month ago I presented my views on how biology can provide a purpose in life to my professor. I was mostly correct, but there was one flaw in my logic (genetic similarity does not count, but rather Hamilton's rule does) and so my personal philosophy for 6 years was proven wrong. Here is what's left.

First, I must not die. I must keep my body healthy.

Second, I must pass my genes. I don't care about what thinkers say life should be lived for. When they talk about God or soul, it's all vacuous nonsense to me. I believe in science and science tells me that I must ensure the future of the collection of genes that is I. Therefore, I must have children that will not live in poverty and that can raise children of their own that will not live in poverty. So, I must raise children, keep them healthy, and educate them to become responsible and capable parents.

My children are 50% identical to me, my grandchildren are 25% me and the generation after is 12.5% me. Therefore, I need to live in such a way that the world 2 or 3 generations after me will be a good place for the survival of five/ten/twenty individuals that are thusly related to me. I imagine, I should support my relatives, help them live and educate their children, and also not ruin the environment for them in any way that threatens their survival. Also, at the very least, I must not hinder progress in science and medicine. I must assist it, by giving some of my time and money, but not necessarily more than 5-10%, which is what my genetic descendents will require of me.

I think this way of life is more good than evil. As long as there is free trade in the world, the side effect of people pursuing happiness will be the improvement of the living condition and with it - the existence of our genomes.

After that, I am free to choose what to live for. A normal person will choose happiness and so do I. There are, however, two things that give me positive emotions. Let us call them "pleasant" and "profitable." The pleasant things, such as sex or entertainment, make me happy at the moment, but on the next day the memory of them usually doesn't make me happy again. I need to repeat what I did to bring happiness back. The profitable things, such as work and achieving things, don't make me happy at the moment. They are boring, but once I've finished them, they make me happy when I think of them. For example, studying for SAT's was not pleasant, but knowing that I have 2190 and 800 (regular one and world history respectively) makes me happy even today. Sometimes, you can have both, like when you are winning a tournament in something you enjoy.

Pleasant things make me really happy for a limited period of time, say a few hours or days. I may have played X or watched Y yesterday, but today I'll be bored and not pleased. Profitable things make me a little happy, and the memory of past successes elicits less enjoyment than entertaining. However, the trickle of happiness lasts for many years ahead.

Sad things I remember, but their sadness eventually wears away. Pleasant things I remember, too, but the pleasure they bring exists only in the moment.

Interestingly, from this follows that there is a certain amount of profitable things that once you do, will provide you with many trickles of happiness every day that can compensate for the hours of enjoyment. I can choose to cease all games, films and such, and go train and be an olympic-tier athlete, study chemistry/psychology/medicine and gain some really useful skills, and visit a historical site in a cultural pilgrimage of sorts. Then, after the years it will take me to accomplish this, even if I get a mundane job, I will be feeling as good about myself in the office as if I were entertaining.

What are these "profitable things" I am talking about? To give a fuzzy definition, they are achievements and accomplishments, but also building and securing. They are climbing Everest or helping build a library, or accumulating money for oneself for times of need. For me it's also knowing things and finding answers to questions. I hold them prima facie valid and true, but the specific things that I want to achieve are probably defined by my upbringing and education.

Now, most importantly, consider this. You are mortal. You will be on this world for 70-80 years or less and you can't change it. One day you will face death or maybe some crippling condition. I can say with certainty that at least yours truly, when on the deathbed or in the final seconds of consciousness in a car crash or chemo clinic or a rapidly descending airplane, will ask oneself whether s/he is happy with how life was lived. By my observations, when people approach death they wonder if there is some point in life and whether their years were well-lived. I will definitely spend the end of my life in fear if I knew that I had wasted the time available.

It is for these few moments of ultimate crisis that we must structure our lives, then. I know that I will look back and evaluate my life, using my logic and reason. Therefore, what will make me ready to die is the knowledge that 1. I have done my duty to my genes and 2. I have lived life happily. Happiness, I think, is in this case rooted in doing as many productive things as possible. Our memories will have lost most of the pleasure or pain that belong to the old events, such as death or sex. But the profitable things, the achievements we earn, will keep on glowing in the mind. The more profitable things I have done, the more houses I have built or firms I have guided to growth or trees I have planted, the better-lit will my mind be once the final moment comes when pleasure is no longer possible.

That moment will certainly come. Until genetics enhances us with ways to repair our telomeres, we are doomed to die. We face one last moment of evaluating the past and, it seems, the amount of profitable things and achievements will be the only thing that eases our passing with peace of mind and not fear and regret.

I think this logic is more good than bad, too. In the end of the day, even if your work and sacrifice put into building your life and family don't make you euphoric, you will still have a home and security. If, on the other hand, you live hedonistically, unless you live off another person your life will be pockmarked by worries, debts and obligations. I've spent a couple of years like that before high school and I know. Also, this probably means that the net amount of happiness in both these lifestyles is the same. Only in the more responsible and work-conscious lifestyle it's spread more evenly. Most importantly, the hedonistic life is worse for the future of your genes.

So yeah - take care of your genome and live a life of sustainable happiness.

Facebook Fanpage Advances

2011-09-29T23:00:00.001+03:00

On Facebook I am the admin of the Beef Jerky page. About 2 years ago, when it started getting popular, I found myself restricted from posting things on the wall. Facebook had suspended me for violating the rules of adminship, even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong. Furthermore, I have neither advertized my page, nor allowed other Beef Jerky pages to advertize on it (spam it) without deleting and banning whenever the interface allowed it.

Since then the page kept growing until it reached a stable fan count of about 53 000.

For the record, here's some interesting stuff from my inbox

And here is the page itself

Am I being bullied to sell it? Time will show.

Aerial Photos of West Sofia

2011-09-25T18:18:00.000+03:00

Magic the Gathering: the Constructed/Limited-Hybrid (C/L-H) Format

2011-05-27T00:23:00.000+03:00

Magic: the Gathering is a great trading card game that offers lots of action and fun but it is not perfect. For all the thousands different cards that have been printed throughout the years, MtG's gameplay is still prone to quickly become boring, “quickly” meaning an year or so. Just this spring I found out that some friends were playing it and that the game devs had been releasing an artifact set and that I love artifacts and so I spent some cash and got more cards, but I realized that it was all turning boring in the way it did years ago when I first got interested. So I wondered what made the game so short-lived and came up with a format that in theory seems to solve the problem and stretch the lifespan of any MtG collection of more than 300-500 cards almost indefinirely. In this post I will explain why I think MtG gets boring so easily and then how my way mends it and allows you to get more from your cards.

Problem with Magic: the Gathering constructed formats
The soul of the deck and the various formats
My hybrid format

1. First, the problem. I will assume that the reader has played MtG before. Every deck in the game tries to deal enough damage to the opponent that s/he loses all life or sometimes uses the victory condition of a powerful card (Near-Death Experience). Decks achieve this through overrunning the opponent with small creatures or with big, powerful creatures or using magics. Throughout a game the player controls whichever his deck's arsenal offers and hopes that his 60 cards that he constructed will out-perform the opponent's. This is where the problems start.

The power of a deck is, I'm pretty sure, measured by the efficiency with which it sends its creatures through the opponent's defenses or with which it burns through the opponent's permanents/hand/library/etc., or with which it survives attacks until its Darksteel Reactor is full or its Progenitus/Planeswalker starts dealing the massive blows (...cards they print these days...).

In order for the deck to do its job quickly and efficiently, it needs to have all the right cards. Creature decks need to have cheap soldiers/monsters with a lot of power and toughness (Isamaru, Garruk's Companion). Control-oriented decks need to have cards that do a lot for a little mana (LightningBolt, Counterspell, Go for the Troat). Having a weaker card among these (something like Anodet Lurker) is not only unnecessary but also harmful. It is harmful because it means that when you draw a card there is a chance that you will not draw what you most need. Economists have a term that is useful for this discussion: opportunity cost. Opportunity cost is the things you give up in order to attain something (e.g. the opportunity cost of getting an excellent mark is surrendering one night of your life on which you were thinking of partying and the opportunity cost of going to a party is six hours of studying or whatever). I think Suture Priest is a great idea for a card and I want to play it in my soldier deck but the opportunity cost will be relinquishing another soldier card (say, Elite Vanguard) which would be more helpful for the rush strategy of my deck. Therefore, the vanguard goes in and the priest stays away.

While playing, decisions such as these show their usefulness. Every time I draw a card it is a random one from the 40-50 that are left in the deck. In order to win, I want the card to be a good part of the big team, so the higher the chance of drawing a vanguard as opposed to a priest (vanguards are more skilled at overrunning the opponent), the better. The higher the chance of drawing a Damnation as opposed to a Rise from the Grave, the better for my deck because my deck is control-oriented and Damnation does the job better, even though stealing a creature may be more fun.

Additionally, MtG has cards that make allow economies of scale. If your artifact deck had a few 0/0creatures with +1/+1 counters and a few others that were normal, putting a Doubling Season or Energy Chamber wouldn't be as helpful as when all your creatures were 0/0 with +1/+1 counters. A good way to make a deck stronger is to make it contain spells of the same kind and get a huge effect directed at them. For example, a LoxodonWarhammer has a cool effect and I like seeing one of my creatures wielding it, but in a Kamigawa Spirit deck that uses lots of spirits, arcane spells and a Long-Forgotten Gohei, it is out of place and using it has a high opportunity cost because it denies you some benefit from the economies of scale (call it Grand Theme if you want).

For the record, players are also limited by the mana curve. Mana curve is the imaginary curve we get when we arrange all cards in the deck from cheapest to most expensive. Ideally, a deck should have just a few cards with converted mana cost 6-7 and more, some more that cost 4-5 and mostly 1-3. This is so that the deck will always have something to cast at the early stages of the game before the player has enough lands to cast Gaea's Revenge or Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite. Staying defenseless for a few turns is not a good idea. The mana curve of every deck needs to be sloped so that the deck has enough things to play in the first few turns.

These three things – opportunity costs/card efficiency, economies of scale/grand theme and, to a lesser extent, the mana curve restriction – conspire to make every game with your deck the same as before. If you want your dack to be useful and effective and succeed in rushing the enemy or pumping up your modular artifact guys, you want to get rid of cards that do not help the strategy. By doing so you eliminate many of the choices you can make in-game. You limit yourself to destroying every creature at the expense of reviving the opponent's Liege of the Tangle. So, in the end, variety must be sacrificed for efficiency if you want to win. The more you refine your deck to win faster, the more identical your games with it become. As a result, the deck soon becomes boring and you want to entertain in some other way.

I have felt that multiple times. It is disappointing and if you still want to play Magic you need to make another deck which will be initially weak and will cause you initial displeasure from losing all the time. Then, as you improve it along the paths of card efficiency, economy of scale and mana curve you throw away the less useful cards and the ones that don't really fit and you figure out the right number of cheap cards from one and from another color. In front of your eyes its behavior during game stiffens and the various game options you previously had eventually converge into one, optimal strategy, which then becomes boring because of the repetitive play. It is unfortunate that MtG has this flaw, not to mention the additional expenses it puts on players to obtain greater variety.

I think only fools will throw Magic away simply because of this. Why let the original rules prevent you from having fun? True, official tournaments demand this standard format for Constructed, plus that when you play with a stranger you use the official rules and constructed-format decks. Yet, those reasons do not justify the loss of fun. Do the players then deliberately “defuse” their decks and take out some of the good parts of the big machine so that it runs as slow as the other guy's? Well, optionally, but this solution isn't any fun in my opinion. I guess someone else out there does it but I, for one, don't like doing it.

People have come up with various alternative formats throughout the years. http://www.wizards.com/Magic/TCG/Resources.aspx?x=mtg/tcg/resources/formats-casual

Some formats have been even become official

http://www.wizards.com/Magic/TCG/Resources.aspx?x=mtg/tcg/resources/formats-sanctioned

(I must admit I don't know which ones were conceived by players and which ones by the game designers, whatever)

I have played a little drafting and I noticed that it is very interesting. It offers a completely different gameplay experience and it is fun; I imagine that other limited formats (ones in which you do not freely choose the cards for the deck you are making) are just as fun as they do not give an environment for those three processes of ossifying your deck (lol what deck??) to take place. However, I am not entirely satisfied with limited, either.

2. The soul of a deck and the various formats

One thing that I noticed when I played Magic years ago (and when I played it this spring) is that I develop a special affection to some of the cards in my deck. I love some more than others. I like my samurai commanders and my Jace Beleren and Liliana Vess more than my Devoted Retainers and my Terrors or ManaLeaks. Casting a Thorn Elemental makes me happier than playing 2/2bears even though the bears are often more strategically significant when I cast them. The uniqueness and specialty of the elite cards in my deck (<3 Memnarch) makes them enjoyable per se, regardless of whether I am winning or losing. The distinguished samurai and the other biggies were the conceptual heart of my deck around which my affection was focused. The other cards were expendable fodder.

Limited formats, then, cannot let me experience this. When drafting there is no guarantee that I get Takeno or Nagao or a big green monster that will be the stars of my deck. All the various draft formats that people have come up with do not guarantee me that I will eventually draw my favourite card and start pwning with it. Which is why I came up with a constructed/limited-hybrid format – one that can both let me keep the soul of a deck and prevent me from playing with something that is too efficient to be fun (or that has been crippled on purpose just so everyone has equal chances and fun).

3. My hybrid format

The C/L-Hybrid format is exactly what the name suggests – a format that allows both some degree of freedom for players to decide who their big hitters and champions will be, and that randomizes the rest of the deck in order to prevent it from getting boring. I haven't had the chance to test it but this is how it looks so far.

The C/L-H is part constructed because players can choose 15 cards that will form the core of their deck. Those 15 cards can be the champion creatures that people love, or the elite conjurations (like Warp World or Beacon of XYZ) that other people love. Or, of course, the 15 cards can be the elements of a combo that a player has come up with and wants to employ. In general, I expect the 15 cards to be chosen along these lines.

The limited part of the C/L-H is a randomized distribution of cards to people. As the players have chosen their 15 cards of whichever colors they want, they now turn to obtaining another 20+ cards to complete the 60-card deck. First, create 5 stockpiles of about 200 or more cards of the same color, one pile for each color. Also, create one pile for artifacts and maybe another pile for various multicolored cards. You only need packs of the colors that people will play. So if I'm playing blue control and the opponent is playing green we only need the blue and green (and artifacts) stockpiles.

Next, draft packs of 10-15 random cards are taken out of each pile and set aside. These serve more or less as booster packs from the draft format. They have random cards, both permanents and magicks in them, and the cards are mostly commons and uncommons. Because they come from mono-colored stockpiles, these small packs are from the same color.

20+ such d-packs are formed for each player (it's faster than it sounds). The draft packs are kept face-down so that players don't know what's inside. Then, players proceed to take a d-pack and pick one card from it to use in his deck alongside the core 15. Once they have made their choice, they set the used d-pack aside and do not touch it any more – it is gone. The players don't have to reveal the cards they picked. The players then go through the other 20 or so d-packs and choose a card from each for their deck. When they are done, the deck has 15+21 cards. Add lands, shuffle and you're ready for action for the whole evening or until you want to take your chances again and re-draft.

The decks that have been created this way have the best of both constructed and limited. They preserve the heart of what you want your deck to be – Jace+Liliana for black/blue control, a big green hitter for green beasts, etc. among the 15 core cards. They also cannot be improved the normal way because you cannot look through the blue cards in your collection and pick The best available ones. You can be lucky while drafting and see them among the others, but it is possible that all 3 or 4 Mana Leaks you have are in the same d-pack and you only get to choose 1 card at a time.

This is it in a nutshell. In the summer I will try it with friends and will see how it goes and I'm optimistic about it. Here's a few notes.

Tribal decks have a disatvantage in C/L-H. To fix this, players may want to adjust the cards in the stockpiles (e.g. remove some or all non-Samurai white creatures from the white stockpile) or, alternatively, have special rules for tribal decks. For example, if a player declares that s/he will use a tribal deck, s/he will have to have 15 creatures of only that type in their deck core. Then, when they draft, any creature they choose will have the specific creature type of the tribe (e.g. soldiers will be samurai, viashino will be goblins, etc.). Additionally, the players may want to put blue/black cards in both the blue and the black stockpiles. This will make it easier for Alara-kind of multicolored decks to get their arsenal before playing.

And that's that. This is Constructed/Limited-Hybrid as born off the top of my head. It looks like a good way to rejuvenate the eldest and most venerable of all trading card games that is Magic: the Gathering, and I'm looking forward to testing it.

Part 2 Epilogue

2011-04-21T23:26:00.000+03:00

NOTE: THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE FANFIC. FOR THE FULL LIST OF CHAPTERS REFER TO THE BLOG'S TABLE OF CONTENTS OR THE FOLLOWING LINK:
http://www.thehelper.net/forums/showthread.php?t=137647

[SPOILERS BELOW]

December 2481 C.E.
UMOJAN INSTITUTE
UMOJA

Paskirov, Summers, Chester and Williams were sitting on the stairs in front of the Umojan Institute's main gate. The last classified interview with the Umojans was over and they were free for the rest of the day. They sat under the burning sun, thinking about the future.
'We could be good for the Umojan fleet.' Paskirov said. 'They'll surely take us.'
'I will be useless, though,' Williams felt bleak.
'Noo, you are still a good shooter. You can make a bodyguard of some sort,' Steven tried to raise the spirits.
'Is it her?' Boris asked.
'No, not really.'
'Relax, you just weren't made for each other,' Boris comforted him. 'It's inevitable, you would always be doomed to worry about each other's safety and where she other was and what she other was doing... You're just better off now.'
'Yes, we can find you a neat lass from our own people. You'll like them, they're knowledgeable,' the black Umojan smiled.
'Do we apply for the fleets soon?' Boris said.
'Nah, I'm sure they will just arrange some places for us,' Summers waved.
'Do you think we'll be sent out there again?' the ex-ghost tried to smile.
'Oh, I wouldn't doubt they'd like to,' the scientist murmured.
'Unlikely, kid,' Paskirov countered him. 'Look at what happened to our mission – we got nothing back, except casualties. And, the Umojans lost even that. I wouldn't count. Pasteur lost the only thing close to an alien artifact and I doubt that the Umojan elite will agree to repeat the operation. Plus, it's probably difficult enough to coexist with the Confederates as it is.'
'The Protoss...' Summers threw the idea.
'...will most likely be destroyed. Their forces are gone, good old Zaraldis and the rest of their fleet of carriers. Such a waste...' Boris resumed. 'And that snake Xentus had crushed the separatists... I guess those Sei'Tara guys are done with.'
'Damn. I was beginning to like them,' Williams mentioned.
'The Dark Templar warriors were absolutely awesome in a fight,' Summers spoke in admiration.
'And, their knowledge was... Amazing,' Chester looked down. 'There are other Protoss out there...'
'Yes. More Protoss - and more Zerg...' Boris looked at the orange skies. 'Do you think they will come here some day?'
'It would be inevitable. Statistically inevitable. One day we'll again be seeing visitors from space.'

Part 2 Chapter 19: The Guardian

2011-04-21T23:24:00.000+03:00

2481 C.E.
REMNANTS OF UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
XEL'NAGA SANCTUARY
PLANET 2481CEfNO09

The flagship Andronikos was facing the Umojans' base but had stopped firing at random. On the field, both Terrans, Protoss, and Zerg stood under the dark grey skies confused and awed by the energy flowing through the ruins and the ball of light forming in the south where all eyes were fixed.
More and more material was torn from the buildings around it and the shards circled it a few times before merging to in the dark cluster in the middle. With the more rocks coming, the light grew dimmer and the sky seemed to gradually clear and the Xel'Naga wonder let the sun shine on the fields again.
Boris and everyone on the bridge had stood up to see it through the windows. On top of Chester's temple, all had gathered to observe. The Protoss, except for the one purple-wearing one who was poudly standing upright and gazing at the light with expectation, were on their knees. At the battle, Williams and Adelnur were on a roof that had become their last stand. The major could hear the purity of choruses pour in his ears while the energy pulsed. The Dark Templar had unsummoned his psi blades and was, too, observing, when Williams heard him in his head.
'The Nwat'Tun of the progenitors... I heard about it in apocryphal records. The greatness will be omnipresent.'
'Yes...' the ghost could only think to him.
The twisting in the middle had stopped and with one clean sweep all remaining unearthed rocks had come together to one main body. Like open veins, light blue light glued the dark shards of the complex together and the creature arose. Its head was giant and stood up in hundreds of meters in the air on top a small body, thin at the neck and wide at the top like a rough cone. The brighter glow of the radiant filigree moved from one point on the head to another, as if the spirit caught within the eclectic material shell was turning. The being threaded on four legs, spidery and radially emerging from the bottom of the small torso, but thick and covered with the web of light that emanated from within as was the whole rest of the creature. The guardian raised one of them and stepped sideways with force that shook the ground.
It stood still, but at the next moment, Williams felt overwhelmed by strange feelings. Another's feelings. The guardian's feelings. It was calling for its masters, not knowing of their flight in times of old. The ghost heard the calls and then knew that it found none. Then, it made a few light steps around and examined the former field of battle, the wreckage, the bodies, and the dust and smoke. It shook and he got worried because he felt its disapproval emanate from the very complex it was born from. The light the ancient edifices on this distant planet were engulfed in pulsed with its displeasure.
Then, he heard it addressing them, the Terrans. You are neither of the masters' creations they warned about. You played a part in this mindless strife with your cunning but petty technology and even managed to get to one of the masters' valuables. Williams was assured that the thing was turning towards the Terrans, indeed, and took a few steps back when he saw its thoughts abate, as if it contemplated something in its mind. He then realized that the Zerg on the ground had gotten nervous and their extreme anxiety was coming to the surface when they occasionally threatened and jumped against each other. Adelnur was completely still, hypnotized by the guardian. The very planet, the winds and the hot sun, had halted their move
'No,' the guardian's thoughts rushed into Williams' mind again, 'you are not a threat. With the circumstances, what you did was beneficial. I need not exist any longer.'
Before the ghost realized what this meant, the giant shape twitched and for a moment the convoluted lights it was webbed in dimmed. Then, they turned brighter and brighter and the guardian burst into brightness.
Williams covered his eyes and fell back. The ringing in his ears was deafening. He felt his head overwhelmed with force and fell on the stone floor losing consciousness.
***
Boris, too was seeing the guardian burst. He was so tormented by the effects of the radiation sickness that he just wanted the damned creature to put an end to all this. The light pierced the air and cut through the windows and consumed the bridge and the whole battlecruiser. Boris could not see anything, but felt the ship suddenly losing altitude and falling freely. In a final act of disdain closed his eyes and waited for the end.
***
Paskirov regained consciousness amidst bright light and voices. His head was hurting terribly but he forced himself to open his eyes. He was in a bed in the medical sector of the flagship and a few doctors were tending him and some other people around him. He tried standing up and one of the medics came to him. Boris realized that the pain had stopped.
'Sir, you are conscious! We feared you may be in a coma.'
'No, I'm fine... I'm... Fine,' he was confused. What had happened?
'What happened?'
'After the explosion, the systems of the whole ship were bugged and we had a hard fall down the ground. But, we're still in one piece. Some other ships didn't make it. I can't brief you on that, though,' the medic spoke as he measured the admiral's pulse. 'I have good news for you.'
'Right, what?'
'Your body is fine. After the... Radiation poisoning you endured,' the man slightly frowned. 'But don't worry, sir, is is classified. Doctor-patient confidentiality. You will feel a bit sick for several days, before you renew completely, but overall, you are good to go.'
'I want to see my fleet,' Boris sat up and prepared to leave.
'You realize that we recommend you rest...'
'No time,' he interrupted the medic and stood up.
Tediously, he put on the uniform and then went out in the hallway towards the obvious first destination, the bridge.
There, unfortunately, the operators were running a diagnostic of the computers of some sort and there was nothing to be done. Outside, the sun was setting. The Andronikos was still in the complex... On the ground.
***
The flagship had crushed among some buildings, but the Hreimdar was not so fortunate and was twisted and a huge hole in its hull meant that it wouldn't fly. Only the Stalwart of the Wanderer-class ships was fit for flying, along with four of the science vessels.
The infantry battalion had suffered so many casualties that it was no longer a functional combat unit. Most of the armor, too, was wrecked up. The fleet had lost more than half of its total numbers of men and equipment. Arnold was dead, the Zerg having invaded the Graf and slaughtered much of the crew. The lonely ship now stood like a tomb for its brave crewmen who had defended it to the end. Summers was still alive. As was Williams. The she-ghost Carla had been among the casualties. Boris found Williams in one of the tents of the field hospitals at assembly area “Base.” The ghost was lying there, apathetic.
'It's gone, sir,' he spoke to Boris. 'The voices are gone and the feelings are gone.'
The former ghost had lost his psionic abilities, as had all other gifted men that Paskirov had rescued from the Confederacy.
And, surprisingly, the Protoss and the Zerg were all gone. There were no traces of either, except for rags or blood and vague remnants of exoskeletons. It was reported that the energy had vaporized them all, sparing only the Terrans in its wake.
But then, the disappointment of the science team arose. Most of the data on the ships was corrupted or erased permanently. Only vital data storage, plus Chester's laptop, had lived through the energy surge, but Chester did not store any material on the research nonetheless. Only some notes on paper had survived in a useful condition. And not only that, the sphere had also been stripped of its arcane properties and the orrery it housed inside only twenty-four hours ago was now gone and the artifact was a dead marble ball. Even the golden armor found among Avissian's purple rags was lacking its blue crystals and the empty sockets were looking at Boris and the accompanying officers from the mocking deathly emptiness of a skull.
Chester, Konrad and the other humans had survived. By the evening they had made the several kilometer walk through the field and managed to report to base before falling asleep in the nearest empty building that still had a roof. Other men were sleeping among the wrecked tanks and goliaths, or somewhere in the base, or on the plain ground.
The next day, the survivors of the expeditionary fleet were evaluating the situation. The wormhole was closed, the Sei'Tara fleet they had known was destroyed, but their mission was accomplished thanks to the clever usage of the mirror and they were fixing what ships could be fixed and were preparing to make a final warp jump home. There was nothing, the high command decided on the field next to one of the repair depots for the armor, that could be done more with this fleet.
Before the Andronikos and the other surviving ships, including the three carrier ones, Boris had went through the laboratories of the Amerigo by request of Chester and some medics who wanted to know his condition.
This was one of the few discoveries that they could bring to Umoja. The admiral's body had been miraculously healed by the yet undiscovered skills of the Xel'Naga. All the DNA in his cells was completely new, and, what amazed the examiners, even the telomeres were brand new, as if he had never aged. And not only Boris', but also Williams', and Chester's, and the DNA of the whole fleet had been renewed. The guardian had given them a whole new lifetime.
***
2481 C.E.
REMNANTS OF UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
UMOJA
The Andronikos, the Stalwart, the Enteos, and the science vessels and the light carriers finally exited warp space among the familiar stars of the Koprulu sector, Umoja system. Boris gazed upon the planet with a smile: they were finally home.
The ships approached the planet and requested contact. 'This is Admiral Paskirov, of the expeditionary fleet sent from here under the command of Admiral McNorman. We are requesting docking clearance.'
The familiar protocol welcomed the Terrans to their homeworld but then the connection was overriden by Umojan officials.
'Are you the fleet who left off with that sphere?' an unknown man from the other side of the high-level transmission asked.
'Yes, sir, we are. We sort of lost it, but...'
'Never mind that. The Confederacy's on the other side of the planet, kid. Mr. Pasteur is negotiating with them right now. They found out about the attack on the prison and the rescue of Ethan and Powell and they are angry.'
'Right. What does that mean, sir?' Paskirov politely asked.
'We do not yet know. But be prepared immediately to destroy all evidence and information you have collected from your trip. Do you copy?'
'Yes, sir,' Boris was ready to comply with everything, as long as it was Terran, preferrably Umojan. 'May I ask, sir, why?'
'Well, kid, the negotiations... We'll see.'
And they saw. Half an hour later, it was clear. The Umojans had to give some warships to the Terran Confederacy to appease them. This included the surviving ships. Boris and the trusted Umojan officers had to leave the Andronikos and the other vessels they had seen so much in for the last time. From the control tower in one of the orbital platforms, Paskirov saw the good old warships, stripped of any information and records that the Confederates could find useful, head to their new service under new captains. Ferguson, Summers, Heuven, Williams, Chester and Konrad next to him watched, too, regretting the cruel indifference of fate. Boris saluted the Andronikos in the distance one last time before turning and leaving the room.
As he would later learn, the Andronikos would become the flagship of a new Confederate fleet squadron – Epsilon, and Martens and the Amerigo would play a role in its structure. A significant one.
That evening, on Umoja, they met Pasteur.
'So, you actually encountered alien life. Interesting,' the grey-haired man murmured on the dinner table in the Umojan institute. 'Whole three of them. One of them hidden... Well, gentlemen, this is a huge success. It's a pity that with the guardian's disintegration and the kind Confederates' intervention, nobody will get to enjoy its fruits.'
'The slab is gone for good, sir,' Williams spoke.
'Yes. I trust you about it, don't worry. You have loyally served our world and Umoja accepts you as one of its own now. Sometime later, I will be the inquisitor, with your permission, and will ask you to give us all information you know, are you fine?'
'About what?' Chester asked.
'The Protoss, the Zerg, the Xel'Naga... But we're mostly interested in Mr. Williams' past. Now that those things no longer disturb you,' Pasteur looked at the ex-ghost's face, checking for any negative reaction, 'we would like to know what the Confederates have achieved and, perhaps, help our own children. We do have kids with strange talents, of course, it's a completely Terran thing. I disapprove of our psichologists' unwillingness to accept this, but now that Mr. Williams can give us solid data – plenty of it – I'm sure we'll have a breakthrough in the field and, perhaps, a ghost program of our own!'
'I drink to that!' Boris raised a toast.

Part 2 Chapter 18: Wings of Steel

2011-04-21T23:23:00.000+03:00

2481 C.E.
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET SCIENCE TEAM
XEL'NAGA SANCTUARY
PLANET 2481CEfNO09

Down on the ground, the civilian part of the expedition were feasting on the treasure that the latest finding was. It was just after begin morning nautical twilight, but fleet clocks were reading nighttime nontheless, yet for it was difficult to sleep at such a moment. The Protoss archaeologists onboard were one of the first to laud the discovery and had entered a state of particular piety and veneration to the finding. They alluded to myths and sayings of the Sei'Tara, trying to make sense of the encounter. Many went down to the surface, as if willing to go on a pilgrimage to the sacred complex.
The Umojan scientists, on the other hand, were driven down by pure excitement. Curiosity was stronger than sleep and there were groups of people around the computers in the various rooms of the science vessels and the other ships. Many eyes were focused on the newest photos, readings and other data that came from down below, eager to learn more. The expeditionary fleet had spread out around the sanctuary and down on the fields its research personnel were ravaging the place for knowledge under the light of the rising sun and the round shapes of the science vessels.
As for the other personnel on the ships, the structure fascinated everyone without exception and nobody that didn't fight could not rest without thinking of it. Many didn't and just stood up by the available windows or screens with readings from the cameras.
Chester and Konrad were down there, too. Their dropship was nearby, landed on the worn-out tiles of the square between some ruined buildings. The contrast between its metallic body and the machinery that was hauled out of it and the ancient rock that the solemn faces of the old edifices were made of made Konrad smile. He didn't knew, though, whether it was the archaic temples or whatever of old that was the deserving a smile of overlooking or the mass-produced, standard-issue dropship, made of the most economical proportion of neosteel and electronics deemed suitable by the Terran standards of labor and spending.
The buildings were huge, crowned with domes and towers. They varied in shapes and sizes – some were cubical or pyramidal, others were round, but most were in between. Old grass had grown through the big tiles in the yards and in the buildings and there was often teal moss to be found, yet there were no animals except for some small lizards that Konrad saw once or twice. Their rooms were many meters high and the many windows on the old walls were often like doors to the interior, tall and old, leading to the derelict empty halls of the alien buildings. Columns were rising close to all of them, separating walkways and trails and defining different quadrangles. And so for many kilometers in the outlines of various curves and straight lines within the big circle.
In the midst of these remains of a complex or perhaps a city, the fields were ever arid and desolate. There was nothing than patches of thin yellow-green grass on the dirt and the only thing alive there was the wind beating on the tired and hopeless land. Could there have once been a huge garden or forest of sorts, created or maintained by the so-called Xel'Naga, through which their arcane complex had winded? He had to first see the assessment of the soil from geologists, but that was not as important as what the whole complex was for. And whether it could, indeed, be housing the fabled slab was more important an issue. In the distance, the thunder of battle was being heard.
***
Boris had just exited the bridge and was walking down the left corridor towards the medics when he realized the purposelessness of what he was doing. There was no point in seeing a doctor. He would probably only inform them of his condition. No, he was to stay with the fleet now, now when fortune had smiled upon them. He returned to the bridge to finish the attack.
***
About fifty kilometers away, the Wanderer-class vessel “Centurion” was patrolling the northern side of the complex at an altitude of one thousand meters. On its smaller bridge, Captain Dennis was keeping an eye over the scant updates of the status. Nothing would be expected on such a desolate plain, especially when the fleet was engaging the only known hostiles. He was just strolling around, waiting for the main force to finish the Zerg so that he and his ship could receive new orders. The sunrise was nice, of course, on the bluish skies rising over the pale smooth fields. But, he just wished he and the other Wanderer thirty kilometers away, which was patrolling the south perimeter, would do something more worthy for a warship than patrolling. Here.
Gradually, a stream of pinging rose above the hum of the rest of the sensors. Dennis noticed that and walked over to the console. Its operator was showing surprise and when the captain approached, the boy turned to him.
'Sir, you should see this, I am getting a reading from an unidentified vessel. Nine kilometers north-east from us, inbound,' he pointed at the screen.
Dennis looked at the screen for a brief second and then asked the operators, 'What is this ship?'
'It's mechanical, sir,' another one replied. 'No Terran identification signals. Could be Protoss.'
Protoss... What could they be doing here? Probably had some news. The vessel must have registered the radio beacons that the Umojan fleet had agreed to send continuously in all directions and was now approaching.
'Get a ghost, if it's a Protoss they will probably want to talk,' Dennis ordered. 'Tell the Andronikos that we have an alien ship approaching.'
Soon, the alien ship drew close enough for the cameras to identify it. It was a Protoss carrier, identical to those of the Sei'Tara. The ghost on the bridge of the Centurion was ready to interpret anything the other side had to say and Dennis was ready to represent the fleet in his quality of captain. The carrier drew closer and closer and Dennis saw that there was something wrong with it. The characteristic smooth golden surface of the Protoss vessel was not smooth. It was dented and cracked and sooted at many places, as if it had suffered explosions. While the redoubtable shape of the carrier approached, Dennis noticed that one of the engines at the back was not working and was blackened. He got mixed feelings – the unidentified vessel would likely not seek a confrontation, but also these Protoss were returning from a battle. The carrier drew close to the ship and Dennis ordered the ghost to initiate contact.
'This is Captain Dennis of the Umojan Wanderer-class vessel Centurion speaking. Identify yourselves.'
The ghost stood focused for a few seconds as usual and then replied to his commander.
'They are a Protoss carrier of the Sei'Tara. They demand to see Admiral Paskirov.'
Dennis was confused. 'They are now engaging a Zerg colony west south-west of here. Anything we should tell them?'
The ghost reported that there was no answer. The carrier was turning away from them. Soon, its gargantuan silhouette freed the sight from the windows of the Centurion and the morning fields were seen again. The captain ran towards the side windows and saw the carrier quickly gain speed towards the site of the battle.
'Contact the Andronikos and tell them all!' he shouted at the operators, filled with concern.
***
On the bridge of the Andronikos, Paskirov was again in charge and was overseeing the battalion destroy the last vestiges of resistance in the crushed colony. At that moment, an operator called him.
'A transmission from the cpt. Dennis, sir,' he showed.
Boris saw it and did not hide his surprise.
'Set course towards the Centurion! Full speed!' he shouted. 'Tell the Graf von Moltke that Arnold is to finish the job here and await further orders.'
The other captains in the air force were in attacking position by the colony and were surprised to see the Andronikos gain several hundred meters and turn backwards towards the base at full speed. Ferguson did not dare ask why they were doing the maneuver but soon it was clear to him. The Andronikos slowed down and stopped in front of the damaged carrier and Williams stood next to Boris on the bridge.
'This is Admiral Paskirov speaking. Identify yourselves.'
It seemed to him that Williams was hesitating for a moment before he interpreted. 'This is Zaraldis in the Nerhala. The Protoss fleet of the Sei'Tara was overwhelmed and destroyed when engaging the main hive cluster by superior Zerg forces. Only this carrier survived and made a warp jump here. The Zerg will soon find out about our attack here and will make a warp jump in the atmosphere of the planet. They will arrive with more troops than both our armies can resist.'
Boris was silent. The Zerg would soon find out the planet where the colony was destroyed and will be here. Great numbers. Eager for revenge.
'How long before they are here?'
'Half a day on the Protoss homeworld, at most,' Williams replied.
Half of ten hours, that was five hours. No more than five hours to find out what an enormous city of the Xel'Naga was hiding. That had to be a joke.
But it wasn't. Boris weighed the situation in his mind and tried to find an acceptable exit but there was none.
'Can we get any relief from anywhere?' he asked Zaraldis.
'This carrier has the elite guard of the Sei'Tara and some zealots and dragoons aboard. And a few scouts. Everything else was annihilated,' Williams reported with tension in his voice.
The bridge was silent. All eyes were focused on Paskirov. He looked around and took a deep breath.
'I know it's been a long day,' he began, 'but you heard how serious the situation is. We are now alone in this important task and this is the last trail we have on the location of the slab, so it is up to us to allow the boys on the ground to find out what they need to about the artifact. The enemy will soon be here and will try to disrupt our operations and perhaps check the complex themselves. Do not make the mistake to forget that Xentus is dead but his knowledge has died with him. The Zerg are perfectly aware of this hunt and are sure to come here to investigate the temple. I don't know exactly how, but I am damn sure they will.' He looked at his men with eyes that showed the full gravity of the situation. 'We must prevent this from happening. We must make sure that our boys get to learn everything first and then destroy everything that the Zerg could make use of. I know it will be a difficult task, gentlemen, but it is a challenge that we are meant to accept. This is what our fleet is fighting for now. This is our objective. Delay the Zerg from reaching the ruins at all costs.'
Everybody on the bridge of the Andronikos was still. Even the Nerhala outside was immobile. It seemed as if the whole world was taking a deep breath and was basking in the last moments of calmness before the storm.
'You are our admiral, sir,' Ferguson broke the silence. 'We will follow you to whatever end.'
The others started looking around nervously, waiting for action.
'I know you are. Now, we have work to do!'
In less than fifteen minutes, the dire news reached the whole fleet. The rejoicing from fall of the puny colony seemed a mockery now when the intel of the inbound enemy reached the men. The commanders of the other ships heard the orders to assemble at the ruins and braced up for another, greater challenge. The soldiers from the infantry and the drivers/pilots of the armored vehicles were back on the ships and resting before the bigger engagement that lay ahead. The personnel on the warships were tense, but yet unburdened with the toil of battle. The science team on the ground had awoken from their awe and under the the threat of the Zerg were ignoring the virtues of the complex and were just doing their fastest recording and uplinking data up to the science vessels.
In the conference room of the Andronikos, the high command, along with Zaraldis, had gathered to discuss the plan of battle.
'The scientists are down there doing their best and the troops are resting and waiting for deployment. Do we know where the Zerg will come from?' Summers spoke.
Williams interpreted for the executor and gave his answer, 'No. Somewhere around here, in radius of up to ten radii of the complex.'
'We'll set up patrols,' Boris replied. 'When they arrive, we'll greet them with our remaining chemical and nuclear weapons.'
'Shall we perform defense in depth or shall we fortify?' Heuven, the commander of the infantry battalion asked.
'The structures of the temple offer good prospects for fortification,' Summers replied, 'so we could have an advantage if we fight there.'
'But this will mean that we basically let the Zerg get to the complex without any resistance. Won't this jeopardize the work of the science team?' Commodore Archer of the carrier ship Enteos mentioned.
'We should try harassing the enemy with the tanks while they are in the field. Until they reach the buildings. There, we will be fortified,' Paskirov concluded.
'What then, when they actually arrive at the complex?' Ferguson asked.
'While they are on the move, we could try to cut off some of the first waves with the ships,' Arnold spoke. 'If the infantry are then on the field, the enemy's isolated elements will find themselves behind our task groups and in front of our ground force. And we will let the infantry deal with them. I have seen something similar work when I fought rebels once.'
'Sounds reasonable...' Paskirov was thinking. 'But can the infantry hold out against them?'
'Affirmative but not for long, commander,' Heuven said. 'The Zerg could be too strong and out on the open we will be exposed. I would like goliath support out there.'
'Not probable. We will need the goliaths to provide anti-air fire for the tanks,' Summers spoke. 'Then, they will need rearming and refueling. Part of the time while the infantry are out there there will be no armor.'
'Summers is right. The men will have to make do alone,' Boris concurred. But we will have dropships nearby, if you need to quickly pull out. That should suffice, yes?'
Heuven confirmed and Williams began speaking for Zaraldis.
'The elite guard of the Sei'Tara will want to play a part in the battle. They are eager for vengeance after the defeat the Zerg inflicted upon them and will want to meet the enemy as early as possible.'
'Ah, the Dark Templar,' Ferguson murmured. 'We will have a chance to see what these boys can do against some real enemy.'
Boris looked at him and then turned to Zaraldis. 'Your warriors will be deployed alongside our own, executor. Alongside my own fighters will you get your revenge and...' he was interrupted by coughing. He felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, but swallowed it quickly, '...quench your thirst for killing. Ahem.'
With some more clarifications, the plan was agreed upon and the fleet was preparing to meet the enemy.
The sun was rising above the wide plains around the complex. Down among the ruins the science team was toiling among the ruins, recording everything they could. Groups of Protoss archaeologists, accompanied by ghosts, walked side by side with the Terrans among the ruins, assisting in the operation. Up on the science vessels, all data was processed and incorporated into what scant knowledge the Umojans already had about the Xel'Naga.
What engineers and workers were available in the fleet, on the other hand, were quickly sent to the northeast quadrant of the complex. There, accompanied by the commanding officers of the infantry companies, they began reinforcing chosen positions, storing ammo and supplies and placing barricades and land mines where ordered, while the soldiers were having a necessary rest before the fight began.
On the ships, the commanders were preparing their vessels for the combat. The missiles with exotic Confederate arms technology were ready to be fired at the Zerg. The crews were checking the ships or gathering needed sleep before the enemy was to be met.
Down below, The group which Chester and Konrad were in, which was supposed to take measurements of the sphere's activity, was resting. Chester awoke from his half-an-hour nap to find Konrad's face glowing with happiness.
'What's the matter?' he scratched his black nose.
'We have several good hypotheses that emerged. Regarding the complex. Those Protoss sure had some crazy myths. Anyway, one of them is about the complex being the birth place of the first Protoss. I am not sure how correct that is, but those archaeologists sure feel excited about it. Another one is about this place being an orrery of some sort. Those guys above just kept comparing photos from who knows where and informed us on that. And, someone figured that this could be the place where the slab is kept. Hopefully he is right.'
'Yea. True,' Chester was standing up, wishing for caffeine. 'What do we do, walk around with the sphere?'
The orrery was still in the special metal briefcase the fleet was keeping it in ever since the beginning of the operation.
'Sounds the most reasonable. Until we get updates on any of the two theories,' Konrad replied with strict tone. 'Any of the two. If you know what I mean.'
'Yes, yes, the first one is nonsense, I know. We just need to bring it to our pals in a polite manner, I guess, that should make them reasonable. Alright, where to now?'
'We are in what seems to be the center of what seems to be a pentagram in what seems to be an imaginary smaller circle in the big circle. We go north, where the big roads meet and see the sphere there.'
Their group was moving on a dropship and from the open doors, the scientists could see a few more groups of scientists down on the ground, with their electronics open, taking measurements and sending it to the science vessels with the tiny satellite dish. There were also plenty of other dropships in the air, flying around the complex at various altitudes. The fleet wasn't going to bed.
***
On the bridge of the Andronikos, Boris was waiting for any reports on Zerg activity, eyes closed but unable to fall asleep. He shunned sleeping now, knowing of the approaching eternal rest he could not avert. He was thinking of whether the fleet would succeed in doing anything meaningful with the temple on time, before they had to evacuate everyone from the ground, or would it all be in vain. Would the Zerg push the Terrans away from the site and understand the arcane secrets of the Xel'Naga for their own mindless ends. The Zerg certainly were capable of doing it, Boris believed. They had enslaved the mind of a single Protoss and they had successfully been playing the tribe against itself. Sure, the Zerg brains could work somewhat different form the human ones, he wasn't no neurologist, but even so, the Swarm would have all the time in the world to contemplate on the mystery of the slab and tackle the riddles hidden within all the ancient runes. Sooner or later they would figure it out. Could Boris return to Umoja to call for help? No, he remembered. It would take time for any ship to travel that far, even through warp space, a whole day or two. And all ships were indispensable. Even if the ships made it, they would have to convince Umoja that all they found was real and that this threat existed. And Umoja, to his best knowledge, was not a government that boasted with military power like the Confederacy did. Convincing Pasteur to send enough warships to make the expeditionary fleet look at least a bit like a war one would be too difficult and time-consuming...
A series of beeps rose above the noise of the bridge and grabbed Paskirov's attention. He rose from the corner of the bridge where he lay and went to the console.
'Sir, we have a time-space continuum disturbance north-east from here. It is reminiscent of warp space manipulation,' the operator reported.
'The Zerg! There's where they are leaving! All ships prepare to move. The Amerigo and the Zheng He are to remain here at the complex. Magellan, Mercator and Huygens come with us. Where's the Enteos?' Boris started. 'Williams, tell the Protoss.'
'Sir, the carrier Enteos is in geostationary orbit fifty kilometers above the ground.'
'Tell them to move to those coordinates where the warp jump is.'
'Yes, sir.'
'You, tell ARMCOM one, two and three to get on the dropships and prepare to deploy in the vicinity of the Zerg assembly area,' Paskirov told another operator and stood up off the console. He looked at Ferguson. 'Let's roll.'
'You look pale.'
'Lack of sleep. I'll be fine.'
***
The three task groups of the fleet were flying towards the warp portal through which Zerg were coming in. When they approached they could see it – the dark blue and purple air imploding from below into itself, rotating like an endless unveiling spiral and releasing twisting purple streams of air into perfect spiral trajectories outwards. From within the heart of the vortex, many flying Zerg were coming. Some of them were clearly mutalisks. Others were something like flying balls of orgainc matter with tentacles of sorts hanging from them. They varied in size, some being larger than several mutalisks together and with many tentacles dragging beneath them. These Zerg obsiously served as carriers for the non-flying Zerg because once they were in the atmosphere they touched the ground and many smaller creatures crept outwards out of them, like roaches from under the item one raises and they use for hiding.
'Sir, we have updated coordinates of the location of the Zerg wormhole,' one of the people from the consoles reported.
'Good. Inform the Enteos and tell them to release the first neuroparalytic warhead in zero five minutes,' Paskirov replied. By then, the armor ought to have come in range.
'Yes, sir.'
The three task groups of the fleet were made up of a science vessel, a battlecruiser and two wanderers each. Task group one had the Andronikos and its science vessel was farther away north. Task groups two and three were made up of the Graf von Moltke and the Hreimdar respectively. Behind the task force flew a big group of dropships, carrying the armored companies of the expeditionary fleet. Further north was positioned the Huygens, which carried special modified laser guidance system for the missiles that the Enteos was firing.

As the task force was approaching, a sleek silvery shape in the sky shone in the sunlight. The Zerg were about to receive their first dose of poisonous gas as the missile was flying downwards. Boris walked forwards to see it better. It fell past the exit of the wormhole and through the confused mutalisks and for a moment seemed to sink into the hard ground. Then, in a small explosion marked the spot where the silvery missile touched the ground and pale white gas quickly started spreading around ground zero. The little cloud of chemical agent quickly grew in size and became hundreds of meters tall. It stretched over hundreds and thousands of meters of ground, slowly creeping over the field, consuming the Zerg in their assembly area in its wake.
The multitude of Zerg on the ground was, of course, big. Fleet estimates of the Zerg count varied around fifteen to twenty thousand individual hostiles. Boris felt doomed when he looked at the numbers. He didn't realize that such crowd would have so many enemies. It was certainly more than the total number of opponents he had encountered before in service. In his last day...
'Sir, the science vessel “Huygens” is in position for pinpointing ground zero.'
'Good. Fire the nuke. Tell the Huygens to pick a spot, aim wherever they want. As long as it kills the most Zerg,' He ordered.
Down below, the armored companies were being deployed and the tanks and the goliaths were forming up in their platoons. A few minutes later, they would all be at attack by fire position “Road 1” where they would begin a barrage on the Zerg. In the distance, the Huygens was standing still in the air. Far out in the atmosphere, fifty kilometers above, the nuclear silo on the bottom of the black Mammoth-class carrier opened and the second nuclear missile that the fleet had obtained from the secret Confederate installation was released. It entered a freefall towards the zone of ground zero. For about thirty seconds the bulky missile soared downwards through the air and the clouds of 2481fNO09. Its little sensors scanned the ground beneath it for again and again for the wavelength of the little laser point. When it saw it nearby, several hundred meters below, among the ant-like Zerg on the ground, the computer automatically turned on its rocket engine and adjusted its fins to correct the course. At five hundred meters, the men got the signal and everybody covered their eyes to avoid being blinded by the flash.
For a moment, the whole region was bathed in blinding white light. Then the world returned to normal except for where the white-hot ball of the explosion quickly rose and grew in size. The first wind, blowing inwards to the explosion took the ships and everybody felt the metal floor beneath their legs tilt and move forwards before the balance was automatically corrected. Any of the thousands of Zerg close to ground zero were immediately vaporized. A cloud of water vapor formed around the explosion where the air had rapidly cooled due to the drop in pressure and some of the aliens were still in one piece. Then, the many times stronger wave of outward pressure was went outwards in all directions, the overheated air blowing the dust off the ground and crushing the countless Zerg it went through with the whole strength of the nuclear blast. The dull sound of the powerful wind hitting the hulls of the warships and pushing them backwards put fear in the hearts of the men onboard. Closer to ground zero, the enormous ball of bright fire, now growing taller than the skyscrapers on Tarsonis, was ceasing its expansion to turn into the mushroom cloud of superheated flames and destruction. Boris looked at the terrifying blast and felt certain that no Zerg could survive down there. What had hurt him was now annihilating the enemy.
For about a minute now the mushroom cloud kept growing and rising in the air. Its stem was several kilometers in diameter and rose upwards from the circular area on the ground that was devastated from the blast. On top, there was the crown of flames and nuclear force moving upwards and upwards, as if the demon they had unleashed from the bottle was now returning to full height and leaning above the guilty mortals in all its terrifying glory. It seemed to Boris as if a small mountain of flames had been sent towards the skies, scattering aside any clouds it went close to and illuminating the local regions with red.

Up in the sky, the vortex was still open and Zerg kept pouring through. The mushroom cloud had not reached it, although it was now much higher the end of the darkened space-time wormhole and producing fallout. The flaming air was being twisted into the vortex away from the stem. The Zerg that were coming were immediately faced with the pernicious hot air around the explosion and those who did not manage to move away from the blast fast enough were scorched by the nuclear blast.
For about half an hour, the fleet and the armored companies were waiting for something to show signs of life in the radius of the blast. The waves of Zerg kept coming, only to find quick and merciless death on the other side of the portal. The mushroom cloud had now risen fourteen kilometers high and was well visible from far beyond the complex.
Then gradually the Zerg began moving out of the area damaged by the explosion and the chemical weaponry. The tanks on the ground were already deployed and in their designated attack by fire position “Road 1.” Soon, they were firing on any Zerg that was spotted on the field, supported by the fire from the ships. Boris ordered another missile and soon the growing efforts of the Zerg were quenched by more poisonous gas. For about two hours the stalemate was maintained and the enemies were continuously taking casualties, not only those within the contaminated area but also those who tried to deploy outside it and were immediately dealt with by the ships.
Boris was seeing mutalisks massing low above the contaminated ground, next to the dissipating mushroom cloud. He directed the fire of the battlecruiser's big batteries against them and prompted them to approach the Terrans. Three clouds of aliens were flying towards the air force of the Umojans.
'Send in the wraiths. Report altitude of the attackers.'
'Sir, we have about eighty mutalisks at two hundred meters and two more similar groups at six hundred and eight hundred respectively,' the operator informed Paskirov.
'All ships move to five hundred meters and provide suppressive fire at any hostiles who try to climb beyond or drop below that altitude,' he ordered. 'Major, tell the Protoss to engage.'
The three task groups aligned and opened the desired fire. Williams at first was uncertain as of why Boris would want this, but he soon saw the effects it had on the battle. The mutalisks that flew low tried to join the two other groups higher up but were repelled by the heavy fire of the warships. In the meantime, the Nerhala and the two groups of wraiths chewed up the mutalisks and the beaten enemies retreated under bold fire. Then, the remaining mutalisks were engaged. The batteries of the task forces, in addition to ARMCOM 3 kept the enemies from moving under the ships while the Nerhala and the wraiths flew downwards against them, spraying lasers and death. While this enemy unit was also being finished, Paskirov received data of the armored companies.
The tanks were running low on ammunition and the Zerg were now on the move, too strong to be contained by the tank fire. In response, Boris ordered the dropships to evacuate the armored units and the big warships to provide cover against the Zerg on the ground. While the battlecruisers and the wanderers were firing their red lasers on the targets on the ground, he looked at the enemy under the now tenuous veil of poisonous gas. Huge groups of Zerg were again assembling, although the frequency of their transports through the twisting portal had gotten significantly smaller.

***
In the meantime, at the complex, the research had been going on. Only when the nuclear missile exploded in the distance did the attention of the Terrans turn away. The distance of tens of kilometers meant little and the initial fireball of the explosion was easily seen even with the naked eye. Shortly, the shockwave that had traveled through the ground reached the teams and shook the old edifices of the temple complex with the strength of a small earthquake, sometimes tripping the equipment. It was followed by the deafening bang of the nuclear blast and everybody was forced to cover his ears as they watched the mushroom cloud rise higher and higher. And then the eerie warm wind came, blowing through the fields and swirled through the labyrinth of ruins. For a few more minutes everybody stood silent, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the event. Then, they slowly moved back to the work, which had achieved results.
The interpretations of the runes had, to the scientists' pleasure, tilted the balance of the scales in favor of the slab theory. There were now known to be four hidden chambers somewhere in the complex where important things were stored and the science went on to find their locations.
While the two friends were moving through one of the huge empty halls of the buildings, seeking the bigger ones first, knowing of the greater chances of finding something interesting in them, they saw something different than the countless hieroglyphs, symbols and pictograms that the complex was abundant with. They saw murals.
It was noon outside and the hot sun was moving higher in the sky, making the place hotter. In the heavy silence of the shadows inside the old structure, the pictures of something, once probably colored and more sharp but now dull and worn revealed themselves. Konrad first walked through the grass in between the old tiles and took the digital camera to shoot. In the meantime, Chester was just thinking.
There wasn't much of them that made sense in the first place. There were several instances of an image of the complex from above, although it appeared compressed on the vertical axis, as if drawn in perspective. Then, there were strange shapes above them. Before the last oval that was supposed to represent the complex, or so it seemed to the Umojan, there was a rectangle with dots in it. Then, the last picture of the complex had something like an inverted triangle with horns coming downwards from its lower vertex. Between the horns, there was a small rectangle of the same proportions.
'Any idea what this is?' he asked.
'None. Although there is a chance that this is the slab,' Konrad pointed at the rectangle.
'If this is the slab,' Chester looked at the big rectangle, 'these pictures could be showing things related to the slab.'
'So, then I see chaos, then Xel'Naga ships, then stars, then the slab, then a triangle that stands on horns with the slab between them,' Konrad seemed to sound sarcastic.
'Could it be an inverted helm? I mean, the whole wall supposed to stay upside down?' Chester proposed, but then retracted, 'No, that's stupid.'
'It would imply that there's some unexplainably huge under this place. How does that connect to the other hypotheses?'
'Never mind. Send this to the guys on top and let's move.'
But, as they found out half an hour later, their discovery was quite significant. Many things came together and the fleet was now aware of a guardian that would be awaken by the destruction of the slab.
***
'A what?' Boris asked Dr. Tylor who was keeping the high command in touch.
'A guardian, sir. Some sort of entity that is supposed to protect the slab. But rest easy, we are pretty certain that the slab is here somewhere! We are very excited to see more confirmations of this idea now, and...'
'Yes, doctor, I'm sure that this is all excellent news that will inspire our troops to victory, but...' he coughed. '...what is this entity you are talking about?'
Paskirov saw Tylor's image on the screen scratch his nose, 'We do not know for sure. We know it has power, that the Protoss confirm, too. And it is supposedly made by the Xel'Naga.'
'Is this all you can tell me?' he was getting annoyed.
'For now, sir, the most certain data we have. We will keep updating you with anything you may need to know.'
The admiral threw a tired glance at the man aboard the Magellan. 'Thank you, doctor.'
In the distance, like a black cloud of smoke over a burning field, approached the Zerg army. the Zerg had finally stopped coming through and were moving in a long, wide column southwest towards the complex. It was the greatest horde of wild death that any Umojan or Confederate had ever seen. Countless bloodthirsty Zerg were combined into one mass that was swarming straight at the Terrans, cutting the distance between themselves and the defenders as fast as the berserk pace of the unleashed multitude could allow. The charging host spanned over hundreds of meters across the horizon. The roar of the ground beneath their feet echoed in the hearts of the Terran roops and heralded the upcoming slaughter like the emerging silence before an execution heralds the convict's death.
On the bridge of the Andronikos, the officers were probably just as appalled, although they did not show it. Paskirov felt indifferent. Many or few, this fleet would do one last useful thing before it was lost and would defend the scientists. Before everybody died, the foe would be shown a world of pain. The warships were flying high above them, observing their advance through the field and the forming of the infantry in front of the complex. When the forces of the Swarm drew close enough, Boris ordered a descent and the air force lowered above the moving enemies and turned around facing opposite to their axis of advance. While the multitude beneath them began slowing down and moving in confusion, the three task groups entered the support by fire position “Cloud 2” and denied the Zerg further ground with a massive barrage on their lines from the air. Behind the task groups, however, an element of the Zerg army was allowed to continue.

It was waited by the infantry battalion, armed up and ready for a fight. The men were spread out throughout the field and had taken cover in the basic fortifications they had just made. The marines and the firebats waited for any Zerg that would draw near while the ghosts lay on the ground, ready to snipe out the enemies.
Williams was there, leading INFCOM Zeta. Positioned in the middle of the funnel, they were the main damage dealer of the battalion. He was sitting on the ground with the radio he usually carried on his back placed on the ground and the C-10 Canister rifle left against the big rock he was hiding behind. The Zerg were still a black line on the horizon, but the rumbling sound of countless claws running was moving through the ground and frightening the men.
Soon, the Zerg came in range and the firing began. The ghosts were taking down foe after foe and the killed enemies fell on the dusty ground, but others came behind them, walking over the corpses and continuing towards the Terran lines. The attackers were the small zerglings and the bigger hydralisks. The regular infantry was good at dealing with the zerglings, so Williams quickly ordered the ghosts to focus fire on the bigger hydralisks, which were the greater threat. In the sky in the distance, below the noon sun, the warships were still fending off the Zerg on the ground.
The marines and the firebats were firing intensely against the aliens. The desperate waves were repelled with flames and bullets, while two or three precise hits from the ghosts eliminated any hydralisk that dared attempt to fire needle spines on the troops. In the midst of the battle, however, it was clear that the tactic was not working. Even though it applied extensive fire and inflicted heavy damage on anything that came close, the task force was too small for so many enemies. It was unable to keep all the enemies away and some were slipping past the warships and moved against the infantry.
It was time to finish this. The armor was still in the assembly area, rearming and refueling for the next parts of the fight. Heuven ordered infantry companies Gamma and Delta to advance north towards the left flank of the Zerg and apply unrestricted fire. Under the suppressive fire of INFCOMs Alpha, Beta and Zeta, the marines and firebats ran forward, aiming and shooting at the lines of the Swarm, slowly melting them away. The tactic worked and soon the thinned enemy lines turned back to retreat. The tired infantry had accomplished its objective and, too, turned back towards the prepared fortifications in the complex.
Seeing the success of the men, Boris ordered the task groups to disengage the enemy and head sough, to a position east of the complex. Containing the Zerg had failed by now and, furthermore, hydralisks from the ground were shooting needle spines at the ships with such force that the sound of them clashing with the neosteel armor on the bottom of the ships made the commanders concerned if they could safely stay in these positions. So, the ships powered up their anti-gravity generators, crushing some of the Zerg beneath them with the sudden propulsion, and moved to one kilometer, then turned right in unison and set course southwards.
The enemy reacted. From the huge mass of Zerg, a cloud of mutalisks, estimated one to two thousand, began moving towards the ships. Although the Terrans were high enough, the enemy force was huge and intractable. Boris had no choice but to order the ships to move at full speed and try to escape the mutalisks.
***
Back at the complex, Chester and Konrad were positioned at one of the big “streets” that went outwards from the center to the peripheral circle of the complex. They were resting on one of the low rock walls, when they got a signal from the Amerigo.
'Gentlemen, we have made a breakthrough in decoding the runes and we have identified four possible spots where the slab could be,' Martens began. 'We are sending them to your minimap. You have the orrery-sphere with you, and you are qualified and capable young men, so we want you to investigate the points as soon as possible and inform us on anything you find there.'

'Yes, sir,' Chester smiled but then saw the location of the points. 'But, sir, one of them is in the combat zone.'
'I know. Don't worry, you will have infantry to protect you soon. I suggest you start with the least dangerous one. Good luck.'
'Don't you just feel expendable sometimes...' Chester sighed.
'Technically, we all are. Albeit, to different degrees,' Konrad clarified.
'Yea, thanks for reminding me. Let's call the dropship and get on with this.'
Soon, the little vessel was airborne over the fields and above the first goliaths of the column of armor what was moving northeast to join the fray. Behind them were the tiny dots of the tank companies and further behind them was the dark spot on the ground marked by the supplies and services spread in assembly area “Base.”
The dropship landed in the square between the ruins and the men jumped out. The special place was here somewhere and they immediately saw the big pyramidal structure the size of the Umojan academy that was behind some of the buildings. Point one. They went around the smaller structures surrounding it and up a familiar tall stairway on the front of the familiar-looking temple. Inside, there were several old halls like the ones they had encountered previously on other planets. Further into the building, within the quiet interior untouched by time, where the top of the structure was, they found a huge hall. Its floor was broken up and its walls were darkened rock, its ceiling was one flat-looking dome with a single window in the middle through which sunlight was piercing the dusty air, and in the middle, there was an altar.
The group approached it, recording everything, and investigated the altar. It was frugal design, with a wide octagonal base. On the barrel-like base stood a thick rock bowl with a stone truncated cone of sorts in the middle that rose above its edge. Its top was etched and concave.
'Slab, anyone?' Chester muttered.
'I have to admit, these aliens are truly perplexing,' Konrad remarked.
'What function could this serve?' one of the scientists behind them, in their gray working planetary suits mentioned.
'A satellite dish?' Konrad said.
'The sphere goes in the little pedestal?' Chester pointed at the top of the cone.
'Let us see,' Konrad placed the orrery into the supposed stand. They stepped back and turned off all electronics and even had the Protoss and the ghost that accompanied them leave the room but all was in vain.
'Ehm...' For another half an hour the group inspected the site then decided to proceed to the nearby point 2.
The temple there was not anything special and blended with the local edifices. Its derelict halls held no answers to the Terrans. Disappointed and inclined to finish the job, the group left the ruins and hurried to the dropship that had landed close to where the buildings ended and where the open field began. The thunder of battle echoed in the distance.
***
The warships were moving ever southwards, pushed by the mutalisks. The three task groups were not eager to go too far from where the battalion was positioned in order to assist from the air if necessary. However, the mutalisks behind them were relentlessly trying to assail the air force, forcing a retreat southwards. New readings were showing hydralisks joining the mutalisks and coming closer on the ground. Boris could feel trouble brewing.
In response, armored company two was recalled. They had to meet up with the ships west of the complex and destroy the hydralisk elements while the fleet counterattacked the enemy flyers. Boris looked around in the seeming safety of the flagship's bridge. The only thing that kept it safe, he knew, was caution of its crew's part.
***

Down where the temple was, the Zerg forces had breached the outer circle of the temple and were now pouring into the fields between the first lines of the complex' structure. Zergling after zergling was running forwards, their screeches echoing throughout the empty streets of the ghostly place. The hissing of the monstrous aliens drew nearer and nearer to the men, in their fortified positions on the ground and in the buildings. Williams, in fifth platoon of INFCOM Zeta was positioned on one of the upper floors of a building. The wide round room behind him had many huge windows, as if the barren oval dome on top was supported by columns rather than walls, and on one of the edge of one of the windows facing northeast, he had positioned his C-10 in waiting for the enemy to come in range. The building and those around it were Terran positions now, filled with men and supplies. The troops had view over the field and the surrounding pathways and squares of the complex and were awaiting the Zerg attack.
The Swarm was drawing near. Through the optics, Williams could see the zerglings and the hydralisks. Someting drew his attention. There was a bigger Zerg among the others, bulky like some sort of cattle, but superior in size to a tank. It threated on four legs through the dust that its mindless friends were raising and in addition to the typical elongated Zerg head, it had two enormous blades on its front side. They were like curved crescents, but much heavier, and were shaking as the giant creature galloped forward. What the hell...
Then, the mines started to activate. As the creatures moved on, the little spider mines registered motion and automatically ejected from the ground one by one. In less then a second, the surprised Zerg saw the strange white metal objects head towards them and the front of the Zerg slowed down. Immediately when the mines had reached their victims, they detonated in large explosions that disintegrated any unfortunate alien in a several meter radius.
The confusion in the enemy ranks was further facilitated by the ghosts opening fire. One by one, the hydralisks were taken out and dead bodies with shattered heads fell on the ground – a testament of the accuracy lessons of the Confederate ghost project. The marines and the firebats down were encouraged to see the death among the enemy lines. From his eagle's nest, Williams picked off Zerg after Zerg, feeling as he had returned to the days of target practice.
Soon, the moment came when the minefields were expended and the enemies resumed advancing towards his fortified sector. The marines farthest away, in the improvised trenches in front of the buildings, had started shooting at the enemies. The flashes of their rifles shone on the ground and on the nearest zerglings before the firebats nearby let gushes of napalm loose upon the hostile aliens. The trenches had to be emptied under the pressure of the enemies and the fighting was transferred to the sites of the buildings. From behind walls and columns now the marines were firing upon the incoming Zerg and the hysterical screeching was mixing with the roar of the rifles. Williams reloaded and tried to shoot faster. The more he killed in the distance, the less would get closer to the buildings for the boys on the ground to deal with. Then, the Dark Templar had arrived. Jumping outside the protection of the buildings, empty silhouettes of Protoss were sneaking towards individual Zerg and were leaving them lying dead, lacerated by the quick and deadly psi blades. Like spirits of death threading on the winds of battle, the cloaked Dark Templar were slashing down the enemies, staining the ground with blood. But they had to retreat. Williams and the other ghosts in the nearby buildings could not provide sufficient cover and dispose of the hydralisks fast enough and some of them were ejecting needle spines blindly towards the buildings, hurting the Protoss warriors and even killing two. The pale blue flames in which their bodies burned out were the signal for the others to return to the cover of the buildings and await for the enemies there.
Not on the battle map, great, Williams thought. How could Boris allow them to not report their positions? The Confederates certainly never would.
Blasts from grenades added to the cacophony in the surrounding area when Williams saw one of the big Zerg approaching through the cloud of dust above the field. The spider mines had already taken out three of its kind, as their slow bodies were an easy target for the neat piece of machinery. This one was coming directly towards the nearby archway inwards to the quadrangle. If it got there, the infantry would have big problems holding their ground against something of this proportions. He aimed. The body of the alien was truly big, but the head seemed approximately the same. Shouldn't be that hard, he thought and pressed the trigger. The recoil of the canister rifle pushed his shoulder and part of the skull of the giant beast where his eye was was taken away and blood sprayed from the open wound. Yet, it kept moving forward. Williams fired again at its head, disfiguring it further, but this only seemed to make it more angry. He looked in disbelief at the creature and lowered his rifle: this was a waste of bullets. He resumed fire against more Zerg waves in the distance. and hoped that the troops on the ground would do something against this.
Less then a minute later, the building trembled as something heavy was being slammed against the walls. Williams carefully leaned outside the window and looked down to the right where the ultralisk was trying to push through the narrow between Williams' and the neighboring structure. Its body was too wide, but it wildly pressed forward, scraping the surface of the ancient walls. He could not believe his eyes. Then, with a gush of air, a Dark Templar jumped from a nearby low roof on top of the giant Zerg and with a wide buzz a psi blade sank deep into the creature's throat. The monster collapsed after a few convulsions and the Protoss uncloaked. It was Avissian, the commander of the Sei'Tara elite guards, with his purple cloths and golden shoulder pads and leg protection.
'Stand tall, warrior,' Williams could hear in his head as the dark gray face of the Dark Templar looked his way. 'We shall aid you against the ultralisks.'
Williams gave a salute and returned to his position to take out some more of the incoming Zerg. The field was already full of dead bodies and smoke was rising in the distance to his left and right. A few more ultralisks were moving on the field, accompanied by zerglings and hydralisks. Williams braced up for the encounter and continued firing at the hydralisks. One of them drew close to his position. It looked at the flash of the C-10's optics and immediately leaned and opened something on its head.
Instinctively, Williams retracted behind the cover of the solid walls. Just in time, as a bunch of needle spines flew straight up by the window and clashed with the old rock at the facade and on the tall ceiling with a dull crack. The ghost was breathing heavily. Despite for the cool wind, he could feel the sweat running down his forehead. He crawled forward and carefully raised the canister rifle just enough so as to see what was going on down. Hydralisks and zerglings were coming and had now crowded around the arch door to enter into the quadrangle. Inhuman screams and the rolling sound of controlled firing on the other side suggested that the infantry was fighting back. They could not keep this for long.
Williams checked his supplies. He had several magazines left, but overall it was time for combat service support and the goodies that the dropships brought periodically. He put everything in his backpack, then grabbed one of his grenades and threw it down at the crowd of Zerg. He ran down the giant counterclockwise stairway that led away of the open hall and down below the grenade exploded with a loud bang and screeches of pain and fury.
He ran out of the building. The entrance was close to that of the arched gate into the quadrangle and the bullets flying from his right towards the Zerg to his left were swooshing through the air outside. He waved at the marines at the other side of the quadrangle, behind the colonnade, and leaned sharply forward to run towards them.
Their corporal looked at him through the glass of his visor and said over the radio, 'We can't hold them for much longer, especially if the big ones come. Where is the armor?'
'ARMCOM one and two are loaded up and inbound. You'll have to hold the best you can.'
'Where is the air support?' the guy was energetic from the fighting.
'Unavailable!' Williams said loudly to be heard over some local explosions. 'This is a bottleneck! You're good. I'm finding me a new spot.'
The corporal waved and the ghost quickly moved away from them. He passed through some narrow spaces between the rock walls, up and down stairs alongside the openings of the buildings and on the upper levels of the taller ones. He could see in the distance, in front of the Terran lines, the Dark Templar sneaking through the streets. The fighting had now turned into urban warfare and the Zerg had to move between the ruins to get to the Terrans. This was exactly what the Protoss behind the positions of more platoons westwards through the buildings. Around him the infantry were positioned behind columns and corners, in courtyards and halls and from there were firing at the Zerg who were coming through. While he was climbing up the slope of one edifice, he looked behind the edge in the distance and saw the air twisting around the creatures here and there at the deeper places in the yards and pathways. This had to be the Dark Templar, since deep cuts appearing in them before they fell on the ground in blood.
***
The Andronikos and the rest of the task force were still pulling back.
'Where are those tanks!' Boris released his anger. Ferguson looked at him but continued giving orders for task group three to move aside as if nothing had happened with the admiral. Behind them, the mutalisks were nervously keeping distance, as if avoiding confrontation.
'Sir, the message for volunteers recruitment has been sent to all the ships. The dropships will leave for the ground in fifteen minutes,' an operator confirmed.
'Are you sure that we can spare men, admiral?' Ferguson asked.
'Yes, it is necessary for the ground force. And, besides, the men are informed that the slab is here somewhere, they are ready to hold off the,' Boris was interrupted by coughing, 'Zerg, ahem.' It tasted like blood in his mouth.
Ferguson looked at his pale face and shrugged, 'As you say.'
'Sir, Colonel Summers reports that the tanks are in range to engage the enemy hydralisks,' an operator reported a few minutes later.
'Let them engage when ready. All task groups prepare to turn and attack by fire!' Boris ordered. 'Vice Admiral, I must take something from the doctor. You are in charge in the meantime.'
'Indeed you do, sir,' Ferguson was feeling a bit relieved that Boris noticed his condition.
The column Terran ships, accompanied by the Nerhala slowly began diverging with the first two task groups turning right, westwards, and the carrier and task group three turning sharply left. They also headed to a lower altitude, against the mutalisks.
The field was clearly visible one kilometer below, under the noon sun. Left of the majestic hammerhead of the flagship, Boris could see the dark dots of armored company two moving northeast towards another darker are of the ground – where the hydralisks were.
The task groups were now in position. Defensive matrices were formed by the science vessels and the first firing from the batteries greeted the Zerg, less than two kilometers northwards. The ships opened fire against the flying enemies.

Down below, the tanks advanced towards the hydralisks. They turned out to be targets of very adequate appropriate size so fire from the twin autocannons was devastating their lines even as the warships in the sky were beginning their fire. The tanks advanced through the field, breaking the enemy lines and melting their numbers under the thunder of the guns.
Suddenly, the mutalisks in the air also fell back. They had just began their assault on the battleships when they scattered across the sky in a few seconds of chaos, then left the combat northwards. The tank commanders didn't know what to do about that. If they were to be attacked, many tanks would be lost, since the machines were easy targets for air attacks and could be struck well before the big ships could come to repeal them. But, they turned north.
With the exception of one group of fifty to seventy mutalisks, which left the big group and initiated a big turn to the left, threatening to descend upon the tanks. Armored company two were already reacting to this and spreading out in the field to be more difficult targets, when they noticed that the mutalisks actually headed west-southwest, behind the battlefield. Powerless to change the strange behavior, the tank company was left to await new orders.
***
Chester and Konrad were on the move towards point three on the map. Point four was too dangerous to enter right now, plus this one was closer, so it was the obvious choice. They were followed by another dropship, as first and second platoon of INFCOM Delta were sent by Heuven to guard the sphere, given the location of the air force. The two dropships were flying southwards, away from the din of battle and Chester was holding tight the briefcase with the orrery, troubled by the enemies outside and irritated by the strange air of the cargo sector. The golden eagle glistened under the sun as the vessel was on course to the fourth location.
Suddenly, the dropship briskly tilted downwards and headed towards the ground. Nobody knew what was happening, except that it was evasive maneuvers, as the pilots were heard on the overhead radio. Someone suggested Zerg and Chester felt terrified. They could get the artifact! Then he felt the dropships slowing down, stopping, and gently hitting firm ground beneath. The marines instructed the scientists to look for cover under the dropships immediately and the gates opened. Something bad was going on.
***
Up in the Andronikos, Ferguson had noticed the sudden retreat of the Zerg. Had they decided that attacking the ground force would be more advantageous? A strange change of strategy, surely. He could, then, order nothing more appropriate than the fleet to pursue and fire until they were back close to the battalion.
The sudden dispersion of a group of mutalisks attracted his attention. They were flying in an unusual direction, down parallel to the length of one of the long straight lines of the complex. Why would they?
He immediately realized that the scientists with the sphere were there, on two dropships. Under the overhead lights of the bridge, his face was twisted in doubt.
'Adjutant, order all wraiths to engage those rogue air units! Immediately!' Ferguson quickly commanded. 'Rest of the ships, prepare to move to the strong points of the infantry battalion.'
All avaliable wraiths received the urgent orders and took off from the ships to intercept the mutalisks. At full speed, they flew several kilometers through the field, ready for an encounter.
***
Chester ran out of the interior of the dropship and looked around. Marines and firebats in black-and-gold combat suits, plus a few ghosts, were scattered in the field. Around them, looking in the direction of the battle. The platoon leaders instructed the scientists to get under the dropships and await further orders. Chester ran towards the other vessel, fifty meters away, in confusion, followed by Konrad, glanced at the skies above where the fighting was taking place. He saw a dark cluster of things in the air approach. Those must have been the Zerg! He quickly crawled underneath it, holding the briefcase tight.
He could sit upright under the smooth black hull of the dropship, so he waited attentively for something to happen. The marines and the ghosts across the open were waiting in battle stances, all looking in one direction. Then, the ghosts started firing. Soon, the sound of flapping wings filled the air and the marines, too, opened fire upwards. From under the dropship the Umojan knew that a battle was starting and tightened his grip of the metal briefcase. On the ground away, shadows of Zerg were seen coming.
Soon, the shadows were here and the trained shooters were retaliating even faster. One of the soldiers on the ground suddenly was blasted to pieces when two or three greenish organic things hit him from above and continued their path further on the dry dirt. The hissing and screeching of Zerg filled the air, adding to the noise of the rifles and Chester saw Konrad next to him cover his ears.
Something bulky hit the ground next to them with a thump. Chester turned and saw a pale tumor of sorts, the size of a barrel lie on the ground. The gross slimy thing had three green appendages curved sideways sticking out radially, but before he could gaze upon the Zerg abomination further, it tore to pieces and withered, soiling the ground with bile.
***
The wraiths were quickly shortening the distance between them and the mutalisks. When the two wings arrived, they saw the mutalisks engage two platoons on the ground. The wraith leader was gazing at the two parked dropships through the glass of his fighter and acknowledged the useful tactic to repel such air attack that the soldiers had employed. Might save the lives of the rest of them.
The Wraith-class fighters formed a huge wedge formation and flew straight into the group of mutalisks, firing anti-air Gemini missiles and the smaller lasers. The Zerg, focused on killing the infantry on the ground, were surprised by this and had to give in, inflicting only a single casualty upon the two groups. A few sweeps were the end of the enemies and the wraiths made a wide turn and headed back to the big ships.
***
From under the dropship, Chester was listening to the noise of battle. Something crashed into their dropship an the noise of twisting metal above meant that the vessel was damaged. More and more troops were dying when the sound of fighter engines rose above the common noise and lasers and rockets were now soaring somewhere above in the chaos. Chester did not know how much time had passed An explosion was heard and the wrecked metal body of a heavily damaged wraith fighter crashed in the ground thirty meters away with a loud Whaam! Among the flames and the wrecked wings, he could not see a pilot. Some time afterwards, the sounds of Zerg and of shooting were over and the wraiths left the scientists and the remnants of first and second platoon of infantry company Delta.
Chester crawled from under the dropship. Half the bodyguard were dead. One of the dropships, the one they were under, was damaged and the other one was in an even worse condition, unable to fly. The infantry platoons merged and everyone went aboard the remaining dropship to be taken to the third point.
Still shivering with adrenaline, Chester walked on up the huge stairs that encircled the structure. The pilot of the dropship, who had insisted on coming with them and the soldiers, broke the silence.
'I... I think I know why they came for us. I think I do.'
'Why?' was all that Konrad could ask.
'This dropship, LV426, it was flown before. The last pilot told me it was on service when the flagship had some sort of irremovable biological contamination. Guess that could have attracted them flyers.'
It was as if two cog wheels suddenly fit together with a click in Chester's mind.
He opened his mouth to explain the irony of the pheromone from when Boris had thrown the pendant, but remembered that the pendant, like most findings, was classified, and just laughed.
'Trying to relieve our spirits, eh?' the platoon commander smiled. Everyone walked up more jovially, except for the ever serious ghosts.
Point three was devoid of use. It lacked even runes. There were no hidden halls, no mechanisms or levers, nothing. The tired group left back for the dropship under the burning sun above.
***
The volunteers had been deployed to the fighting positions of the battalion and the tired marines rejoiced at the sight of fresh reinforcements. The Protoss warriors were somewhere ahead, lurking in the buildings and eliminating Zerg after Zerg and the Terrans knew that. Buzzes of psi blades were continuously heard and it kept the morale of the infantry, reminding them of friends who shared their cause.
Jones' first platoon of INFCOM Gamma was defending the third strong point in the battalion's line of defense. Aiding them were third platoon of the special ghost company, as well as, as scheduled, goliath-class walkers. Against them were many Zerg. Jones' platoon was busy with defending the space between the nearby buildings, tactically designated as street 1 out of three. The men were on the buildings and on the ground, repelling the creatures running down the street towards them. The firebats on the ground sent huge balls of flame towards anything that got too close, while the marines and the ghosts were doing the effective part of the killing. The resistance was tense and difficult, Jones knew. If it weren't for the Dark Templar to dilute the upcoming waves of enemies, the Terrans would surely have retreated by now.
Then, behind them, a dropship was approaching. It flew as low as possible, in an effort by the pilot to avoid the enemy in the air. The men were reassured as the dropship slowed down and landed on the stony square nearby. Twenty men ran down from its cargo compartment – volunteers from one of the ships that had put on the combat suits and were willing to fight for the cause. Jones looked at them and said over the radio.
'Greetings! I am Lieutenant Jones, company Gamma. You know what's going on here. The only thing I can tell you is to stick together and hang on. High command must have some more aces up their sleeve.'
The twenty men followed him in an unorganized group and assumed positions at the street that led northeast and joined the shooting.
The firefight was going bad. Platoon three were sending one hail of short, controlled bursts after another, but the enemy still pushed them backwards under the threat of fangs, claws, and spikes flying through the air against the soldiers. In one of the corridors, first squad had to retreat away from the great corridor where many Zerg now crawled. They exited through a huge gateway and into a cloister grown with old grass and mold. The men gathered up in the middle and their corporal evaluated the situation. The soldiers displayed low morale, their armor was battered and worn off, and the enemy was at the gates. Hell, at least they had plenty of ammo. He gave orders for his men to spread in important positions around the cloister from which they could maximize fire against whatever was at the gate.
A minute later, the Zerg attacked. Two zerglings jumped inside, but bursts from the rifles of the marines behind the door tore their bodies and they fell dead. A hydralisk followed, along with more zerglings, only to face the fire of the marines. Several streams of bullets soared into the head of the nightmarish alien and its blood spilled on the ground and the nearby walls as it was pushed back. A firebat stepped forward and unleashed a stream of searing napalm against the zerglings at the door that were a few meters away from him. Covered by flames, they screeched in pain and crawled against him, eager to harm the firebat with the last few breaths they had. They were finished by the flank fire of the three soldiers left of the door, in the walkway between the colonnade and the walls of the temple.
The corporal was attempting to contact the lieutenant and ask for reinforcements.
'Sir, we need reinforcements on this position, over!'
'Roger that, corporal, the goliath company has entered your premises and is soon going to arrive.'
'Can't they make it a bit faster? We're being pressed hard here!'
'Negative, corporal, you'll have to hold out,' the man on the other side of the radio seemed unconcerned with their plight. 'Good luck.'

As he was talking, the defense was breaking down. The marines could no longer keep the Zerg enemies at bay and the aliens were now assailing the individual sections of the platoon. Left of the corridor, the three marines – or volunteers, he could not tell – were desperately trying to push back the zerglings coming at them. Their short bursts were merging into longer ones under the pressure of stress and fear, but the alien beasts did not reach them. As the three prepared to find new targets, a hydralisk at the door turned at them and fired a hail of spikes at them. The two soldiers who were at the columns had their bodies impaled and they fell down in a pool of blood. Only the other one, who was standing close to the wall, only suffered one spike in his upper leg. He launched a grenade at the two-meter tall monster and killed it in a burst of flame. The corporal's voice was heard over the radio.
'Boys, we are to meet up with the rest of the company. They are two hundred meters down the corridor and will send some men to help. When they do, be ready for a... Argh!' he ducked and rolled aside from a zergling that almost leaped onto him. Another soldier took it down as it prepared to jump again. 'Be ready for a breakthrough! Now kill them!'
He stood up, looked at the stalemate at the gates, the several dead soldiers and the fearsome enemies and assumed firing position.
'Aaaaa! Die!' he shouted, raining death upon the Zerg that were pouring in.
The troops answered to the aliens' thirst for blood with angry bursts. Some of them leaped over the cover that the fense of the colonnade at the behind of the cloister provided and just kept shooting down the Zerg in bloodlust. The soldier with the wounded leg opened his visor and bravely stepped forward. Suddenly, he turned back and the sight of his face made the corporal exclaim. It was Paskirov.
***
The platoon was shocked. Their own admiral, here? Seeing him wounded they felt fear for the future of the mission. Who would lead them if he died?
But the fact that he had come as a volunteer poured new courage in their hearts. They felt closer to him now, seeing him fight and bleed like an ordinary troop. The men of the platoon were inspired. They let the medic take care of the admiral and stood against the attacks of the Zerg with valor and determination, like rocks against the waves of a sea, welcoming new Zerg with painful bursts of pain from their C-14 gauss rifles.
The first goliaths arrived with the loud hum of their twin autocannons blasting Zerg apart. The aliens soon stopped entering and fell back. The firebat at the door was breathing heavily and took a rifle from one of the dead troops. The corporal reloaded, feeling more at ease as the enemy now faced the heavy walkers and prepared to call for dropship to evacuate the wounded admiral.
Outside, Boris saw the metal bodies of the goliaths move forward with leaps and the Zerg up the street being torn apart by the powerful shots of the walkers. The machines walked forwards through the bodies of Zerg next to blood-stained walls and rubble and ruin.
Still, the strong points were weakened. The mines were expended and the fortifications, Terran- and alien-made, were in wreckage or useless. Each time the waves of monsters were going farther and the Terran defenses were pushed backwards a little.
***
In the Andronikos, Ferguson was standing among the personnel on the consoles, wondering where Paskirov had gone. Nobody in the medical sector had seen him and there were no people available to look for him right now. The vice admiral was disappointed and annoyed with this and the whole way the day was developing, with the Zerg clinging onto the Terran positions and so on. There was no point in staying in their current position any longer, so the task groups moved northwest under his command, towards the fire of the raging battle.
The wraiths arrived but the other mutalisks had not been eliminated and were confirmed to be heading towards the right flank of the Terrans. So, the ships were ordered to move there and provide air support to the last of their positions.

The wraiths returned, and the tanks were send to the assembly area before continuing, some dropships entered the docking bay, and the Andronikos, was overall on its course to aid the ground forces. Ferguson was observing the status of the tanks in the base and the thinned defenses of INFCOM Alpha and the progress of the heavy breed of Zerg that had surprised the defenders and had been pushing them back slowly but relentlessly.
'Sir, you are being called to docking bay six. It is important,' an operator said.
Skeptical about what could happen now, Ferguson decided to take some time while the ships were moving and ran towards the bay through the empty corridors of the battlecruiser. A dropship had landed and was awaiting him. A few people exited the dropship and attracted his attention. They were three servicemen and a marine carrying a wounded marine in. The vice admiral walked closer to see what this was about and froze in his steps when he saw Paskirov's face beneath the glass of the visor.
'Where did you find him?' his stern face immediately turned to the dirty and battle-weary men.
'Down with the boys from Gamma. He was wounded. We're sending him here to safety,' they worriedly supported him on their shoulders.
'To the medical sector!' Ferguson shouted. 'Now! I'll see him soon. What the hell were you thinking?' he leaned over the wounded admiral for a second, but Boris was unconscious and Ferguson headed back to the bridge.
***
There was only one point of interest left for Chester and Konrad to examine, number four. To their distress, it was located northwest of the battalion's right flank, within enemy reach. The dropship had stopped in the air one kilometer south of the eastern end of the Terran positions and Chester and Konrad, the ones de facto in charge, were deciding what to do.
'The objective is unaccessible and we can only wait for the battalion to clear the threat down below,' Konrad argued.
'We can't wait, man, the guys on the ground are tired and there's no way they can push back the Zerg. We have to go down there and fight our best and try to reach it,' the Umojan countered. Around him, the faces of the other soldiers, the survivors of the air attack, expressed distrust.
'How do you expect us to make a breakthrough? Look at us – we are practically expended. The troops, that is. Us people from the science team cannot even fight. It would be a suicide,' Konrad spoke as if for the whole group.
'Staying here will only doom them to death, can't you see?' Chester raged against the common unwillingness. 'Going down and contributing to the fight is the one best thing we can do for the success of the mission. Think about it!'
'And risk the loss of the orrery?' Konrad countered.
'I'm taking responsibility for that! The rest of you will just fight.'
'Fine, fine. We'll go there. Just, ehm, one more push, people,' the Tarsonian yielded.
The dropship landed at the crossroads of the temple's lines in the middle of the last battle position of hte battalion. The science group ran out of the vessel and breathed the air of battle. It was hot and saturated with chemicals from Terran weaponry and gross Zerg smells. Smoke was rising in the distance and the noise of shooting and explosions near and far surrounded them.
'Ok, what now?' Konrad was looking around for any Zerg. He and the other scientists were armed with pistols or small rifles found in the dropship.
'Now, we find the person in charge and offer him our services. And tell him that we need to go a couple of kilometers away to finish this,' Chester replied and walked forwards, followed by the troops.
The group went through the wide garden-like space and towards the noise of shooting. In the air above the nearby roofs they saw a dropship take off from behind the efidifices. The soldiers identified it as the combat service support and rushed to the area. On the other side of the archway they walked through there were servicemen and marines in an improvised camp. Men were bringing wounded and taking ammo away, while several people were operating some communications machinery.
'Who's in charge here?' Chester stepped forward.
A man in a combat suit with some stripes on it came to him. He had clear eyes and well-shaven face, although he was in his forties. 'I am. Who are you?'
'I am, er, Chester Fitzpartick, from the science team. Me and my group are looking for the location of the slab, as you probably know. The last possible place it can be is up that road, where it crosses the bow.'
'I am Colonel Heuven and I bid you welcome. You have the sphere, right?' he looked at the briefcase in the Umojan's hands. 'Good. Yet, bad news I hear from you. There are Zerg between us and your objective, kid. Four platoons are keeping this place safe and they cannot move through.' Heuven looked at the survivors of their bodyguard. 'And your friends don't look in top shape.'
'Can you at least cover us? We could try to make a run for it. We have demolitions and everything, all ready.'
Heuven looked at him in doubt. 'Not with what I have. Give me some time, I'll call the admiral and see what help he can give us.'
***
Ferguson was standing next to Boris' bed in one of the rooms of the infirmary, looking down at the wounded admiral and preparing to chide him.
'Sir, you aren't well. First, why did you leave us in the first place? We need you to lead the fleet!' he started. 'And what's wrong with your health? You are coughing blood, you are pale, the doctors say your organs are damaged... There is something we – or at least I – need to know.'
Boris stood up the bed.
'I'm terminally ill,' he saw Ferguson gasp. 'Richardson did not die how they described it – he was in the Andronikos during the repairs. He lured me to the reactor and irradiated me. I killed him and Major Williams helped me hide the body. I kept it all secret, vice admiral, in order to keep order in the fleet. Because that traitor attacked me in his irrational fear of our Protoss friends and I did not want to risk the morale of our troops, not now. '
'He must have also been angry about the death of Bracknell. I thought this could move him,' the vice admiral mentioned. 'Well, then, when will you die?'
'I was fine for a while, but the radiation poisoning is beginning to have its effects. My insides are dying. I don't think I'll make it back to Umoja.'
You won't make it out of this planet with this miserable health you have, Ferguson felt like saying but refrained. 'We'll do our best,' he promised, uncertain even of what that meant.
'No, you won't. I'm going back to command,' Boris stood up against his subordinate's attempts and got his uniform. 'I'll finish this, I'm not dying like McNorman!'
Back on the bridge, Boris was lame and pale, but kept on. He observed the gravity of the dispositions of the two sides and coughed. The fleet was getting reading of new Zerg coming from the warp portal in the northeast. The infantry battalion was caught in a mortal combat with the Zerg and its forces were growing thinner. There was no sign of the progress of the scientists. The men from the air force suspected that contact was lost and feared the worst.
'We will send task group two in the center. The Graf von Moltke will assist the boys, especially against the ultralisks reported,' Boris was explaining to Ferguson on the map.
One of the operators interrupted them. 'Admiral, Colonel Heuven requests contact.'
'Bring him on,' he replied and Heuven's image from the land camera appeared on the screen, low quality due to the unstable signal.
'Admiral! I am glad you are there. I just received some scientists and troops. It was that group with the sphere. They say that they have had their radio disabled and could not contact the fleet. Also, they have narrowed down the supposed location of the slab to one point. Unfortunately, it lies behind enemy lines, where the mutalisks are inbound right now. We cannot secure their advance.'
So, Chester had accomplished it, Boris smiled. The success of the mission suddenly felt tangible.
'Roger that, colonel, the cavalry is coming,' he happily informed Heuven. 'Hold on. And keep the scientists alive. As of now, they have VIP status.'
The Andronikos and the Hreimdar adjusted course for the rightmost battle position and led the wanderers with them. From the bridge of the Andronikos, the smoke and flashes in the structures and the fields surrouding the roads down below signified the raging battle. The battlecruisers opened fire where the enemy lines supposedly were, hurrying to aid the ground forces. The smaller batteries unleashed hell against the mutalisks, which, too, were soaring in that direction.
***
Chester and Konrad were now on the third floor of a building close to the front line. The platoons had taken positions in the buildings around them and were fighting back the Zerg. From the big arch window, they observed the battlecruisers and the smaller Wanderer-class ships approach and open fire to their sides, where the mutalisks were. Bright red dashes from their batteries lit the air before cutting into the Zerg cloud and hitting some of the mutalisks. The two opposite forces were like pincers ready to close above the right flank of the Terrans.
But, the mutalisks seemed faster. Chester retracted behind the wall when he saw waves of them descend upon the Terran lines with the familiar hissing and flapping. The fire from below was desperate and from the other window Chester could see the marines and ghosts take cover behind walls or rubble. The curved worm-like bodies of the mutalisks soared through the air spewing glaive worms downwards. One of them suddenly turned towards their building and Chester crawled away from the window. The scientists heard something hit the walls outside and splatter, and then the flying creature swooshed above them and flew away. They decided to move down the stairs.
From the smaller windows of the lower floor, they saw the hammerhead of one of the battlecruisers , as well as the black hull of a wanderer fill the sky. The view from the nearby hall provided a better view to the enormous hull of the battlecruiser above them. Distant buildings were cracking under the anti-gravity generators of the massive ship while lasers flew out of its hammerhead and body, directed at the mutalisks. The stylized white letters on its bottom read “Andronikos” - the flagship, and the scientists moved to the next hall to get a better glimpse of the mighty capital ship in action.
Mutalisks were flying upwards at the great neosteel shape in the sky and lasers were fending them off. Like bees, the fighters left the docking bays at the back of the hammerhead and descended downwards as a part of the just wrath of the majestic war deity of the Terrans that had appeared to guard its servants on the ground. With an electric buzz a tenuous teal shield of a defensive matrix appeared around it while the more round Wanderer-class vessels nearby fired in the air and to the ground. Everyone was keeping his breath while the huge ships flew over their hideout, casting great shadows on the ground. Then, the scientists decided to go to Heuven and see what was about to happen now.
***
On the bridge of the Andronikos, the success of their maneuver was questionable. The mutalisks were away, but not destroyed as needed. The ground force was too weak for a breakthrough. Chester was still down there, waiting for progress. Smoke was rising from the wounds of the ruined complex where the front lines were. Ferguson was seeing all this and was looking skeptically at the field.
'They just fled, commander.'
'If they come back it will be bad. We won't be able to protect the scientists down on the ground,' Boris mentioned, looking at the battle.
'What shall we do?'
'There is only one way to guarantee Chester's safety,' Paskirov paused. 'We will retreat and lead the Zerg away from Point 4.'
'Isn't it dangerous, sir?' Ferguson asked, but immediately regretted the saying something so obvious when the adimiral looked at him with tired eyes.
'Tell Heuven and all officers on the ground to prepare to retreat to the base and leave their defenses,' Boris said quietly. 'Let a dropship and one of the wings be ready to pick up the scientists and escort them to point four in zero five minutes.'
'Yes, sir.'
***
Chester and the others were still in the building when the shooting seemed to stop. A corporal came from downstairs and told them to follow him. On the streets, men, armored and unarmored, were taking away the supplies for battle. The group followed them to the small assembly area.
'Gentlemen, you are ordered to wait for a dropship to take you to point four,' Heuven explained. 'We are retreating. But, we are leaving you some of our men and some Dark Templar, too, as your bodyguard. You will get to point four and do your best, orders from the admiral.'
'So, we just wait?' Konrad was confused. 'The Zerg will come.'
'If they come before the evac, hide somewhere and wait. Here's flares,' he tossed a pistol and some signal rockets. 'Don't worry, you will be safe.'
Yeah, right, Chester thought, crossing the quadrangle and looking for a hideout. The warships had went back to their previous positions southwards and were firing at the Zerg from a distance. The group just went in the attic or whatever of the edifice and waited for their transports in silence.
On the streets down below, the sound of many legs walking through rubble and the hissing of Zerg was heard. A mutalisk shadow fell on the floor through the only window of the hall for a second, then disappeared. Everybody stood quiet.
Chester looked at his bodyguard. There were some ghosts, none of which was familiar. Also, marines, in the black-and-gold combat suits. And, several Protoss Dark Templar, clad in rags. Two of them wore not the black or gray colorless dirty clothing, but neater, purple ones. Although just as dirty. Also, one of the two had a golden shoulder pad with a smooth oval blue rock in it, as well as leg and wrist protection of the same manner.
Soon, the sounds of Zerg down below stopped and the group dared walk to the window. The dropship was coming, accompanied by wraiths, and soon the group was taken to the fourth point.
This temple was the biggest one yet. Huge and vaguely pyramidal, sections of its base were stained with blood and ash. They all walked inside and crossed some halls, led by the Protoss archaeologist. They stopped in a particularly spacious one at the top of the temple. In the middle, there was a very thick rock column. Seeing it, the Protoss kneeled and bowed down, forehead touching the ground. Before the curious eyes of Chester and Konrad, the archaeologist rose and was interpreted by the ghost.
'These are the round walls of the heart of the temple of the guardian. It fits, he says, a prophecy of some sort. The sphere will open it.'
***
Paskirov coughed again and this time it lasted for a whole minute. The pain in his abdomen was sharp and he had to hold on to one of the consoles to stay upright. The people on the bridge were scared with what was happening to him and kept working in fear. He angrily ignored that and kept commandeering as usual.
'Prepare to move here to cover the retreat of INFCOM Beta,' he pointed at a map and ordered the nearby operators.
'Sir, enemy air force inbound!'
'Stand and destroy them!' Boris shouted.
The two task groups assumed attack by fire position Cloud Nine and opened fire at the group of mutalisks in the distance. The enemy flyers were pursuing the retreating units from that last battle position, including the feign science group, who were all moving south.
Further away, the Terran force was in full retreat. The infantry was falling back through the last structures of the complex and into the open fields. Some were taken by the dropships, namely the wounded. Others were on the tanks and even on top the goliaths, holding on tightly while the vehicles pulled away from the enemy. The wild enemies were pursuing and were trying to cut the distance, while the armor was occasionally firing back, giving time to any men who were slower.
But, the Zerg were faster and reached the falling Terrans. A slaughter began when the last lines of the Umojans were attacked by the quick Zerglings and desperately shot back with rifles or autocannons against the masses of enemies. The hydralisks were leaving torn bodies of soldiers behind, while the zerglings and the ultralisks cut and trampled their way towards the Terran base.
In the air above them, the mutalisks were pursuing dropships chaotically in the air. The cracks and twisted scorched metal on the black and gold hulls of the Terran vessels revealed the damage to them, showing why many could not accelerate and flee.

Seeing the slaughter on the ground, Commodore Arnold of task group two ordered the ships to fire at will. The Graf von Moltke and the two Wanderer-class vessels lost altitude and opened indiscriminate fire against the multitude on the ground. The laser fire pushed back the Zerg lines at first, but the fanatic aliens relentlessly continued through the red wall. Hydralisks on the ground in front of them were now gathering. The ships focused fire on them, but countless spine needles flew towards the vessels and started hitting the neosteel like raindrops. The sensors detected hull damage, but Arnold stood there. While the Zerg around were now getting confused with the presence of the Terran ships, he held back, but when they gradually renewed their advance, he knew what he had to do. He ordered the Graf to advance down and northwards towards the enemies. The crew complied and in a final desperate maneuver, the Graf von Moltke swept the ground in front of it with battery fire, straight towards the ground attacks of the hydralisks.
The battered capital ship stood fast for several hundred meters of flying at three hundred meters and killing zerg with fire and pressure from the anti-gravity generators. Then, is wrecked hull gave up and the systems were all unoperational. The Graf von Moltke fell on the ground with smoke coming out of several places in its hull.
The other two task groups saw the tiny battlecruiser in the distance fall among the dust clouds above the field and accelerated towards the mutalisks in anger, vengeful for the fall of their comrades. The mutalisks succumbed to the Terran push and the survivors scattered in the sky. The task groups moved forwards with maximum speed to protect the retreating battalion while the Nerhala left them and headed to the Zerg wormhole to do what it can and meet its former adversaries in an attempt to gain more time.
***
The strange silence of the temple was eerily tranquil to the battle-tired troops. Chester was taking out the sphere and preparing to place it in the orifice that had opened when the Protoss pressed some rocks.
'Now, we have to leave,' one of the ghosts interpreted, 'all of us with psionic gifts.'
Konrad watched them move into the distance of the neighboring hall, then placed the sphere in the bowl on the ground.
In front of his surprised eyes, the runes on the floor started glowing in bright light, shifting their colors. As if light was pouring outwards from the sphere, other runes farther and farther away in the hall began glowing, too, filling the murky hall with magical brightness. Then, he column in front of them started to sink in the floor. Slowly, it went all the way down in and the two saw that it was not a column at all, but rather a thick cylinder.
Inside of it, there was a thin etched altar and on it stood a thick rectangular plate made of glass with a myriad of miniature markings on it. The slab, Chester, realized and his pupils dilated.
Behind him, the ghosts and the Protoss were hypnotized. The archaeologist knelt again in deep veneration. The dancing lights of the runes on the wall were broken through the prismatic interior of the slab and sprayed rainbow resplendence upon the observers. The light of the runes then paled and turned to white again, but through the arcane artifact, it still glistened in all colors.
Suddenly, it occured to the Umojan: it was not made of glass. It was made of diamond.
***
He and Konrad were the only people who were not amazed at that moment. For they saw the thick little slab, smaller than Chester's portable computer, and knew that their task had suddenly become impossible. The others did not realize this, but the two knew that only diamond could break down light like this. And only diamond and a few other compounds could resist the explosives that the group had brought here to destroy it.
'Um, people...' Konrad broke the silence and the others looked at him. 'This may sound bad to you, but the slab is made of diamond.'
The other scientists and some of the soldiers were taken out of their trance. The scientists explained why this was bad and bitterness was added to everyone's exhaustion.
'We should still try to blast it,' one of the engineers mentioned.
'It will be futile, but let's.'
The explosion from all their plastic explosive around the slab opened a huge hole in the ceiling of this and the neighboring halls, but the slab still stood. Within the altar it was put on, a thick diamond spine it was held by that reached deep down beneath the floor. It was like another adamantine hand that reached out from times unknown in its smooth perfection and refused to release the desired slab from its iron grip.
The purple-clad warrior walked at it with fury burning in his purple eyes and stuck his psi blade in the body of the spine, just beneath the two loops that passed around the dents at the base of the slab and kept it still. The psi blade hissed and sparkled against the diamond, but noting happened. Chester was breathing heavily under the noon sun, knowing that this mission had failed.
'What shall we do?' one of the soldiers asked and fired a few rounds into the slab without any success.
'We could call an air strike from a battlecruiser to blast it with its huge laser batteries,' one firebat suggested.
'They can't aim it right, it's too difficult. It will be like trying to hit a desert rat in the eye,' Chester remarked.
'The Protoss psi things are useless...' the corporal looked at the slab with disappointment.
'High temperatures could destroy the diamond,' Konrad said.
'Let's get on with it,' the firebat stepped through the rubble and fired napalm against the artifact. Nothing happened.
'We need it higher than that.'
'If we had a nuke...' Chester sighed and looked down.
'Yea, that would have done it.'
'Wait, the sun could do!'
'What?' the Tarsonian was confused.
'A huge lens? It will focus the rays of the local star and heat up the slab to such temperatures that it will surely evaporate,' Chester explained.
'Alright, first of all, are you sure this will work?' the corporal asked. 'And second of all, how the hell do we get the lens?'
'It will, it has happened before, when chemistry was young...' Konrad began.
'We'll make it right up. But we'll need some stuff,' Chester said and began conversing with him and the others from the science team.
***
Ten minutes later, a dropship came and hovered at the top of the temple. From inside, two goliaths walked out, hauling boxes with something. The curious troops hauled one of them down to the ground while the goliaths walked around the slab, pushing the rubble from the explosion aside and crushing the walls that were still standing. Down on the ground, the scientists were standing around a shallow hole in the ground. With a stick with two flashlights tilted slightly towards each other on it, they were lighting the ground while Konrad was taking measurements and Chester was calculating something on the laptop. The Protoss warriors watched the strange raising and lowering of the stick and then some additional digging and putting dirt on other spots. The working group then separated the two layers of an escape pod parachute and lay one of them in the crater-like hole with the silvery side facing upwards. They were doing it quickly, but the soldiers were already regretting the half an hour lost in this useless labor.
At least they could watch the nice shape of the golden carrier moving north-east. They they discerned groups of mutalisks in the sky and some more enemy hordes on the ground and readied their weapons.
'Wow, machine glue,' a marine saw the tubes of grayish liquid that were being emptied over the chute.
'Yea, I've seen 'em use it to patch up the tanks. Damn hard for a day or two, you can make a whole new tank out of it, it's that hard,' the corporal was sitting down. 'If you add water, it becomes transparent and you can make your window, hahah... Wait! They're making a mirror! They're making a damn mirror!' he stood up and pointed at the ground.
And, indeed, they were. After ten minutes, the huge thing was ready and was suspended on a rope to be taken by the dropship up to the slab. The soldiers were looking at the five-meter tall concave mirror with hope as it was tied to the two goliaths for support and turned to face the sun. Away in the fields, the Zerg were approaching.
'Well,' Chester dusted off his hands next to the corporal, 'all we can do now is wait and hope.'
Their creation was aligned so that many rays of the sun were now redirected straight into the slab. The artifact glowed with blinding bright light under the immense heat directed towards it. Everyone who could inhale held their breath.
***
Williams and a few other ghosts had been running through the long line of structures that went north of the field of retreat and the assembly area. The Zerg were fast upon them, but the well-trained men quickly made their way on roofs and upper stories, keeping distance. Looking left, the major could see the chaos of the battle. The Graf von Moltke lay down far away, with Zerg trying to get in. The tanks and goliaths were suffering attacks from the Zerg while attempting to make the retreat at least somewhat organized and the Zerg kept attacking mercilessly. Soon, those efforts were abandoned, and everyone was running for his life in an attempt to get to the safety behind the last Umojan line of defense, which was the line of buildings in front of assembly area “Base.”
There were no news of the slab. He wanted to call someone above, someone who could tell him what was going on, but knew that it would be in vain and that such calls always came from the top down.
They soon had to descend to the ground to continue. The tired soldiers threw away their equipment except for the most vital things and the weapons and took a break for a minute, listening to the tumult of the slaughter in the field. As they proceeded out of the tunnel and into the big local square, they saw zerglings run out of an edifice on the opposite side. Behind them, the hissing of the enemies was drawing closer and it seemed like a dead end. The five ghosts looked around and awaited orders from Williams.
'Five meter spread, go, go, go!' he shouted and ran sideways, aiming at the first enemy he saw and rapidly eliminating it.
Around him, the ghosts were executing the last desperate maneuver for this lost day. The group of enemies charged towards the men with terrifying screeches, but the ghosts were trained to endure far greater psychological pressure and did not stop their resistance. Williams saw that a zergling was now just a few meters and set aside the rifle, took out his knife and jumped aside, stabbing it in the abdomen when it pounced towards him. The creature fell clumsily on the ground, but was still alive. Williams took the canister rifle and rose above it with a roar. The stock landed on the zergling's head and killed it. The major turned around. A hydralisk on its snake-like body rose in front of him.
'So, you want a piece of me?' he held tightly the rifle. The alien hissed and gargled with hellish fury, looking at him with burning eyes.
Then, it jerked forward. It convulsed as its back was being torn apart by the wide swings of a Dark Templar's psi blades and fell down on the ground.
'Are you alright?' Williams heard Adelnur.
'Yes, yes,' the major looked around. Some more Protoss had arrived to aid the ghosts. 'We need to move, they will be here any minute.'
'Let us to the field.'

***
On the bridge of the capital ship of the expeditionary fleet, Boris was pale and feeling too sick to look at the maps. He just stood against the wall, keeping himself upright, while Ferguson faithfully directed the maneuver against the mutalisks and towards the last positions of the infantry. The casualties were immense and the Zerg forces now vastly outnumbered the Terrans. The coming of the battlecruisers was unlikely to change the events and Boris thought of the imminent defeat. The battalion was done with. Should they leave? Surely, the Confederates would. Leaving men behind... But it was pointless. The ground force was crushed and neither the Terrans, nor the Protoss had anything left to keep the race against the Zerg going. Today's defeat marked the beginning of the end, he thought, for him, for the fleet, for Umoja and perhaps for the Koprulu sector. What chance did they have, anyway? The Swarm was vast and furious, the mighty terror of the stars that they had stumbled upon was beyond their skill. The Protoss... They had spent their immortal brilliance and prowess on quarrels and treachery. They, too, would fall.
The noise of enemy fire hitting the neosteel armor of the Andronikos resonated through the hull and was heard on the bridge. Boris just looked emptily in front of him.
***
At the temple, Chester was shivering with the adrenaline, waiting for something to happen. The field was lost. They had to destroy the slab and then try to fleet in the confusion once the mysterious guardian appeared, or they would stand no chance against the Zerg. His eyes were hurting from looking at the bright slab too often. He felt the heat.
A loud explosion in the distance drew his and his team members' attention. A cloud of bright blue flames illuminated the last stand of the destroyed carrier where Zaraldis had sacrificed himself to hold the new waves of the advancing Swarm. The dark multitude around where the Nerhala stood swung forward towards the Xel'Naga complex. The soldiers spread out and assumed positions, knowing that their futile numbers were no match for the might of the Zerg. Doom was coming for the expeditionary fleet.
It was at that moment that a black cloud erupted with a crack and a hiss that turned to the ringing of metal. Chester turned around and saw the adamantine vestige of an unknown hallowed age finally yield to the focused rays of the sun in the sky. The power they had harnessed vaporized the artifact and it had vanished in the black smoke of hot carbon.
Chester was about to erupt in laughter and happiness when the buzzing ringing around him grew louder. The structure and the ground beneath him and the others started shaking and they all looked around in terror. Light came out of the windows of the lower levels of the temple they were on, and then out from the runes in the rooms of the surrounding buildings, and then from bright blue lines and signs in the interior of every structure they could see. The whole complex was being lighted.
***
Williams and his ghosts had to retreat to the round roof, pushed by the Zerg beneath. The Dark Templar were yielding, when he saw bright white light spread out in the distance. It was engulfing the horizon, filing the skyline of the ancient complex with radiance. Above him, the sky darkened. The sunlight turned dim and only the arcane glow filled the air.
***
'Come, sir, I've ordered the dropships to move down and take our men. We'll fight another day,' Ferguson was standing over Boris' face. The admiral was sitting against the wall holding back the pain and wishing he didn't have to.
Ferguson raised him and looked outside. He froze at the amazing new sight out on the field.
The whole complex was alight in white. The skies were dark now and sunlight was gone, but down below it was like the very earth had tore open and luminescence from beneath was erupting in pure brightness. Paskirov saw this and hurried to the window with his vice admiral's help.
In the center of the temple, the light was the strongest. Boris looked there and saw lightnings crawl on the surface of the weary old edifices while rocks were being lifted from the complex' very body and taken up in the air by the swirling ball of light. They were assembling into one and at that moment, all eyes that could look were focused on what was forming in the heart of the Xel'Naga sanctuary.

Part 2 Chapter 17: Hearts of Iron

2011-04-21T23:21:00.000+03:00

2481 C.E.
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
HIGH ORBIT OVER PLANET 2481fNO09

Boris was overseeing the re-forming of the expeditionary fleet after they had exited warp space. The track that had gone cold in front of their eyes had re-emerged. Thanks to Chester's inquisitiveness and ingenuity the combined fleet had found a new goal once again.
That night, when the mission seemed doomed and nobody knew where to go now, when the Terrans and the Protoss were confused and in a dead end and the Zerg were still relentlessly moving on somewhere out in space, hope was rekindled. Chester's fortunate idea, born in the dead of night, had awoken every more knowledgeable man that night and had arrived like the longed for burning answer that cometh at unawares.
And then hope vanished when they found out that the system was within Zerg-controlled space. The Protoss did not have a clear idea of how far the Swarm's influence was reaching through space, but they knew where a sort of boundary existed between their sector and the systems that the Zerg had taken. The supposed planet was away from the main combat zone between them and Zaraldis, but still on the enemy side of the barricade. Going there meant that the combined fleet would alert the Zerg of their presence and probably lure enemy forces to the site. Possibly before the exploration of the site was over.
And so, Zaraldis decided to risk. The Protoss half of the fleet was to attack the big hive cluster in local space, where the Zerg were expected to warp jump into 2481fNO09 from. While the Terrans found and secured the temple, the Protoss would keep the Zerg pinned down until the planet was checked. For as long as they could, the Protoss would harass the Zerg, after which their fleet would return to this planet where they would see the results of the Terrans' inspection and decide on what to do next.
Concern over the new troubles had settled in the Umojan expeditionary fleet. The unknown was rising between them and their objective, great and menacing. No one felt the burden of this stronger than the commander himself. Paskirov saw all the possible unpleasant ends of their campaign So he could do nothing else than just ignore the fears and move on with the operation. Quietly prepared for the worse, he calmly gave the orders, knowing that this way most of the statistically probable results would surpass his expectations anyway.
The fleet exited warp space close to the coordinates of 2481fNO09. The Umojans, in their feeble Terran ships made of metal and carrying that mediocre technology, were alone once again against the Zerg.
The fleet was preparing to enter the planet and the ships were in formation when suddenly the electronics went crazy. On the bridge of the Andronikos, all the consoles flashed in disorder and the lights vacillated in power for a couple of seconds. Then, they died and everything turned pitch black.
A second later, the reserve power kicked in and the bridge bathed in the red light of the auxiliary lighting. Boris was terrified. Not a malfunction. Not now!
'What is going on?' he shouted at the operators who were switching to the reserve power while the officers were walking around in confusion.
'Sir, it appears that something overloaded the power system of the ship. We don't know what it is yet, we have to contact the engine compartment.'
'Call for help from the other ships,' Boris ordered. 'Tell them that...' he began but stopped when he looked out the window at the Hreimdar and three of the Wanderer-class ships in space outside the battlecruiser.
'...we may need to wait for the antennae and the fleet transmission receivers to power up...' the young operator explained in his seat, but Paskirov wasn't listening.
He grabbed the binoculars, which he had considered rather useless and fanciful until now, and zoomed onto that part of the fleet. The other ships, too, lacked the normal bright lights.
'Sir?' a lad from the command of the Andronikos approached him.
'Not now, kid, we have a problem here,' Boris said hurriedly and went to the people on the computers to find out what was happening.
***
What had happened, it was understood, was that the ships had stood in the way of a powerful surge of solar wind. The charged particles had overwhelmed the defense systems of the ships and all possible power was automatically diverted to the anti-radiation shields of the ships and away from all other systems, causing a blackout and damage to the power grids.
'Can we get the ships going?' Paskirov asked the main engineer of the flagship.
'If we start running this or any other right now, who knows how it will malfunction. There's lots of bad wiring now, inside them, and it needs to be checked and replaced. To make sure all systems have their energy and run as good as old.'
Frigid seriousness permeated the admiral's face. 'How long will it take?'
'A couple of days,' the bearded man shrugged.
'You mean that for a couple of days we are stranded here in space, unable to do anything?' Boris was getting nervous.
'Er... Yes, sir, I'm afraid so. We can only try to fix it all as fast as possible so as to be back on the move again... Finding that special artifact and all.'
'Right, right. Very well. Begin affecting repairs now, I'll inform the fleet,' he murmured and left to the bridge.
The fleet was aware of the issue at hand. The science vessels and the Wanderer-class vessels had suffered almost no problems and power shortages after the storm, unlike the battlecruisers or the
Enteos where repairs were clearly necessary. So, all available men on the flagship were ordered to participate in the repairs.
Everybody contributed. From the lowest ranking serviceman to the top officers, people were standing next to the exposed cabling and the metal panels that were the walls of the corridors, looking at the engineering equipment and testing connections between their spot and that one floor above, where a similar group of people was observing a similar tangle of cables and sophisticated apparatuses usually hidden behind the walls of the battlecruiser.
The time was passing slowly and tediously. Men who were fit for battle felt awkward doing mundane and tedious prophylactics to parts of the ship that they never before considered important. Boris knew that at least Williams would not have any doubts about the disaster, but the prevailing worry with the status of the mission further exacerbated the worries. He was looking at all this, helping the chief engineer in keeping things in order. But the situation already seemed to take its toll on the men's morale, even though assistance was scheduled to come from other ships in the small fleet soon.
'Ah, Vice-admiral Ferguson,' Boris exclaimed once Ferguson came to the dimly illuminated bridge.
'Yes, sir?'
'Ferguson, you are now in charge of the whole thing. Help them not stand in each other's way.'
'Yes, sir. What will...' the vice-admiral began, but stopped, fearing he would irritate Paskirov.
'What will I be doing?' Boris looked at him, trying to show understanding.
'Y-yes.'
'I've got a little work to do. Give the men a hand. I may have been a bit rough on everybody after the Protoss joined us, and the good officer is close to his troops... I will go do some manual labor, this should cheer the crew up.'
Ferguson leaned back. 'Wow, I'm glad to hear that, sir... Oh, well, I'll be going then.'
'Yes you will. The chief engineer is somewhere at the top levels of the hammerhead, see him,' Boris said and left the bridge.
For the next few hours, he toiled alongside the men, carrying tools and wires around and serving as a minor service boy. The crewmen were seeing him, with the coat of the uniform taken off, and his example inspired them. Everywhere he went, the Terrans who saw him worked ever harder, trying to please their commander in the joint effort.
At evening break, most of the checking was done and some of the damaged grid was repaired. Boris was about to sit on the table at one of the non-officers' dining halls and eat when one of the gunners came by and called for him.
'Admiral, one of the engineers wants you in the reactor chamber.'
'Hm? What is it?' he turned.
'I don't know, sir, he just said he needed the admiral to come,' the man replied.
'Right, I'll be right there. Sorry, boys,' Paskirov said and headed to the Colossus reactor that powered the enormous battleship.
The hall that housed the huge heart of the Andronikos was dark and gloomy. The dulled sounds of the machinery and Boris' footsteps on the metal floor were the only things that could be heard. In the middle of the six-meter tall room there was an enormous steel dome painted red – the reactor. For an observer down on the floor it seemed as if it was the only thing in the hall, greedily occupying the whole space and pushing the various pipes and ramps on the walls and above it aside.
'Hello?' Boris said loudly. His voice briefly echoed before the noise of the machines' life devoured it.
'Are you the admiral?' a voice spoke.
The boldness of the tone struck Paskirov but he immediately regained tolerance and spoke in a friendly tone, 'Yes, I am. What is it?'
'Come over here, sir, you might want to see this,' said the voice of the man who seemed to be behind the reactor.
Boris walked towards the source, wondering what new adversity had struck the fleet. The feeble Terran technology had already probably become laughing stock for the Protoss – if they could laugh – and these malfunctions and technical difficulties were shameful for his whole race. Surely, the carriers did not have such problems when they were flying in outer space and flew into a stream of particles or whatever from a nearby star...
'Where are you?' Boris stopped at the other side of the room, looking for the man. 'Look, if you want me to assist, you better tell me what's going on here, because I have work to do.'
'If you come up, sir, I'll show you. I'm in the control cabin right now,' the voice was heard from the ramps above Boris.
He hurried to the nearby ladder and climbed up to the first level catwalk, then turned left to get to the mobile ramp towards the other side, where the cabin overlooked the whole room from above the door and the guy was supposed to be.
While the ramp was moving back, suspended on the chains over the large dome, it suddenly stopped. Boris grabbed the rails to keep balance and looked around in surprise.
'Right, I can't come to you now, it seems... They should think of repairing the ramps, too, tomorrow...' he began, but a harsh, colder voice interrupted him.
'Don't move!'
Boris looked around and a dark figure in the distance, on the ramp leaving the cabin grabbed his attention. An object in the man's right hand shone for a moment and Boris discerned a pistol.
'Who are you?' he froze.
'Hello, admiral. How have you been?' the man began slowly, with a mocking courteousness.
'What do you want, soldier?' Boris tried to bluff power and pretended to play tough. He touched his right leg with his left – his miniature pistol was down there. But it was useless now that the other person had reserved the right to shoot first.
'Don't you recognize me?' the foe began. 'It is me, Captain Richardson.'
'Richardson! Take that gun down!' What could Richardson possibly want of him now?
'Oh, no, sir, I won't. I won't repeat your mistakes and take my guard down. Like you did with the negotiations with those traitorous Protoss.'
'The Protoss are our friends now, you know it! Our quarrel with them died with Xentus and we are allied against a common enemy,' Boris was feeling uneasy.
'Lies!' Richardson shouted and his cruel voice echoed in the empty dark room. 'This mission is doomed! You are taking us all to our deaths!'
'Calm down, I'm not...'
'Be silent! Puppet of the aliens!' Richardson growled and his voice was stained with rancor. 'I know you! Confederate agent! You want us to fail, don't you? You want us all to die!'
Paskirov was growing really worried with the situation, but could do nothing.
'You and your accursed Protoss friends... You all just want to feed this fleet to the Zerg, looking for a nonexistent piece of someone's imagination, destroying the research of the Umojans. You want to fight these impossible battles and play these cunning games so that in the end your Confederacy will conquer the whole Koprulu sector for itself and rule over free systems like Umoja.'
'No, I...'
'Yes, you do!' Richardson was getting fierier. 'I know you. You killed McNorman and claimed the admiral title for yourself. You silenced me and all others who spoke the truth. You killed my cousin Bracknell down on those brutes' wretched homeworld while doing the dirty deals between you and Xentus. But no more. No more will this fleet suffer to endure your feigned incompetence and hidden malevolence and egoism. I will put an end to this!'
'You are out of your mind,' Boris almost screamed.
'Oh, no,' the captain turned calm again, 'I am not. Perhaps you want me to look like this, by humiliating me in front of everyone and demoting me and silencing Bracknell. But I have seen it, “admiral,” and nothing can stop me now. This fleet is going home.'
'No! You can't turn us back! Not now! Nobody will listen to you!' Boris realized that Richardson was out of his mind.
'Silence!' the he shouted. 'Admiral, this is the end.' He entered the cabin and on the dim light of the screens Paskirov could see him doing something to the machinery. The sound of thick pieces of metal scratching against each other drew Boris' attention and he looked down. One of the box-like things lined around the bottom of the reactor was opening and its lid was moving aside.
'What are you doing?' he was worried and confused.
'Look in, admiral. This cavity leads to the interior of the reactor, where the nuclear fuel gives the whole ship energy. Now, the interior is no longer the sealed environment and the radiation that is contained in there will escape. Towards you!'
Boris looked down at the vent of sorts that led into the reactor. A small red lamp from beneath the lid had activated and was illuminating its quadratic throat, but Boris saw nothing more. Could the madman be wrong? Or was it simply invisible?
'The best thing is, the radiation alarm and the geiger counters do not work. I will not sacrifice others and in fifteen minutes this will close, but it will be too late for you! You will be dead and it will all have looked like an unfortunate accident. The power surge and the reactor, an unlucky combination for some people... Anyway. That's all. Enjoy the last moments of your life... Admiral.'
Richardson just turned away and moved to the exit to the corridor. With all haste Boris reached for his own firearm and raised it towards Richardson's back. Then, with the fastest aim in his life, Paskirov pressed the trigger and the bang from the little pistol echoed in the reactor chamber. Richardson fell on the ground.
Damn bastard, Boris thought. He was left hanging in mid-air, with the gateway to the deadly interior of the battlecruiser's power supply open. He swore and looked around.
How could he escape? Every second was vital. But he was in the middle of the room. There was a good three meters drop to the smooth sides of the reactor enclosure shell. The nearest catwalk was a couple of meters away. The basic controls on the movable ramp were broken. How?
He had an idea. The ramp was suspended on chains. Boris began swinging it sideways, hoping to move it closer to the nearest catwalk. With great effort he managed to make it swing farther and farther. Then, as the ramp was going so high that his head was touching the ceiling, he jumped forward.
Boris fell on the steel catwalk with a loud thup. He hurriedly retracted his left leg, which was sticking in the air, on the catwalk, terrified of the height, and just lay down for several seconds, breathing heavily from the effort.
Then, he rose. He ran towards the door to the corridor where Richardson was supposed to be. The traitor was gone.
Boris was still in the cabin, thinking what to do. The captain could not have gone far. But going out in the corridor meant giving him a chance to shoot first. Boris looked around.
He grabbed a portable device that measured some unknown scientific variable but still had glass on its display and held it out in the hallway. He looked at the reflection of the left side: there was nothing. He then turned and looked at the reflection on the right side: Richardson was crawling away, holding his left shoulder with the pistol still in his right hand. There was no time to lose.
'Freeze, traitor!' Boris jumped outside in the hallway and aimed at the captain. 'I'm still alive.'
Richardson stopped. For a second he stood still under Boris' nervous aim, then he tried to quickly fire at the armed admiral. But that was a stupid mistake and Boris, already in position, fired first. Richardson collapsed on the ground, bleeding to death.
Boris lowered his pistol and tried to decide what to do. He reached for his radio – thankfully, it was still on his pants, although his coat was back in the cafeteria – and held it for a second, thinking whom to call first.
'Answer it, Michael!' Boris was trembled by the adrenaline rush. After what seemed as an eternity, Williams' voice was heard.
'Sir?'
It felt to Paskirov like a lifebuoy for a drowning man.
'Mike! Williams! Richardson was here! He tried to kill me!'
'What?' The news had broken the cold orderliness in the ghost's voice.
'That's right! I'm just outside the reactor chamber, third level of it, I believe. I shot him dead. He tried to kill me, he opened the reactor or something. He was armed, a pistol of some sort.'
The ghost said nothing for a few moments. 'So, are you fine?'
'Yes, I am. I just escaped, I was stopped in the air on one of the platforms. I need you to come here and help me get rid of the body. Go to the medical sector and find a body bag, we'll dispose of him.'
'Sir, yes, sir,' the ghost discretely replied and Boris turned the radio off.
He put his pistol back on his leg and made sure he looked normal again. He felt fine, and perhaps Richardson's idea to kill him had been deprived of enough sense to work by his madness.
Boris was sitting on the floor waiting for the ghost when suddenly he felt nausea. He turned sideways but it quickly overwhelmed him with strength and he found himself on the cold steel floor, turning slowly and drunkenly, while the world around him was twisting and warping. He felt terror at the sight and at the headache, as if caused by his very brain being stretched alongside the rest of the universe. What is happening to me? he thought.
After some time, he opened his eyes and saw Williams over him, slapping his cheeks and trying to bring him back to consciousness.
'Boris!'
'Ugh, what happened?' Paskirov was trying to regain consciousness.
'I found you rolling on the floor in some sort of delirium, are you alright?
'I'm not sure. Where is he – the body?' he tried to stand up but the world around him twisted as idf trying to escape him and he lay again.
'Packed up, as you ordered. The blood is still here, though.'
'Right. Good. Good job. I'll call someone to clear it up, we'll be fine. Give me a hand to stand up, will you? What time is it?'
'Twenty-one thirty hours fleet time,' the ghost replied while pulling Paskirov.
'Good. The cameras don't work, so nobody will know what has happened.'
'Are you going to tell anybody else from the fleet, Black One?' Williams inquired.
'No, no. They don't need to know about disloyalty against me. Or madness. It may hurt the morale, I can't risk. I think I'll see Chester, though. And, I'll tell Summers, too, once Mr. Genius tells me if there's something wrong with me.'
The two grabbed the bag and headed to the nearest garbage disposal silo, then to the docking bays.
'If someone asks where I am, tell them that I've gone to Chester to see something about the starmaps,' Boris told Williams while walking aboard the dropship. 'The blood is mine: I cut myself and had to wait for you to bring me bandages, because... I didn't want to bother anyone else.'
'Roger,' the ghost said and turned to walk off the vessel. He moved away while it powered up, then returned to his cabin while the dropship flew out into open space and towards the Amerigo where Chester was moved.
'Evening, sir, I heard you wanted to see me,' Chester welcomed him to the ship.
'Yes, I did. Relax, I'm still Boris. Take me to your cabin, there's something I need to tell you on the way there.'
'Sure,' the scientist replied and a while later, while they were in an empty hallway inquired, 'so, what is it?'
'You may find it hard to believe this, but Richardson tried to kill me,' Boris whispered and saw the Umojan look at him in disbelief. 'He lured me into the reactor room of the Andronikos, then kept me above the shell and opened it or something. Then he tried to escape, but I shot him.'
Hearing this, Chester jumped several meters away. 'He what the reactor?'
'He opened it or something connected to its interior, why?' Boris was getting uneasy with the scientist's reactions and further walking away.
'He opened it?' Chester was trembling.
'Yes, he said he was, and there was a hatch that opened beneath me, one of those things that run around the dome,' Paskirov explained and slowly approached him. 'What's wrong?'
'Stay away! Please, keep distance!' Chester was terrified and grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher and held it in front of him. 'Don't irradiate me!'
'What?'
'You are most likely contaminated, man. That thing, radiation, gamma particles, you are irradiated!'
That didn't sound encouraging. 'What does this mean?'
'This means that you will suffer,' Chester said without a hint of compassion. 'For how long were you exposed?'
'Fifteen minutes? Or twenty... Approximately,' Boris could feel his insides turn.
'Follow me! We need to go to the medical sector. And maintain damn distance!' the Umojan said and ran away.
Boris followed him through different corridors until they reached the sterile white walls of the medical sector. From a distance Chester guided him in a glass chamber of sorts with some white consoles on the outer side. Boris sat on the bed while the automatic door closed and the scientist moved behind the computers.
'Okay, let's see... Oh, dear.'
'What is it, doctor?' Paskirov asked.
'Nothing good, certainly. Are you sure you want to know? I heard that medical ethics requires of me to check that, so...' Chester was looking grim from behind the glass panels.
'Go ahead.'
'You have five to seven days of life left.'
Boris' pupils dilated. He stood still on the bed, wishing this were all a bad dream.
'There's no treatment,' the Umojan broke the silence.
'So, I have a few more days to live,' Paskirov said quietly after a while.
'Yes, you do. Your cells are permanently damaged. They cannot replicate. You will be fine for several days, tip-top shape, because you still have enough of them to keep you going, but after that they will need to be replaced – and there will be no replacements. You will die a painful death. Let's leave it here.'
Boris felt stripped of all the quotidian desires and facing eternity, facing the end. The bright white light of the medical room of the science vessel devoured the machines, the bed, the Umojan and everything else in the background and he stood perfectly still in its indifferent glow. He slowly began remembering his life, his youth on Tarsonis, his stupid brother and demanding militarist uncle, his admission to the military academy...
'Will I be able to do my job as an admiral?' he determinately broke the silence. If he had a pittance of time left, he would at least fill it with the most appropriate content.
'Yes, yes. Until the symptoms start showing. You will be coughing blood and so on. But until then you are good as new,' Chester said from behind the console. 'It's called the walking ghost phase... Yea, just details.'
'Am I a danger to the others?' Boris spoke in an even tone, reminiscent of Williams.
'No, you aren't. You were harmed by the radiation, yes, but you do not emit any, so you are absolutely harmless to the others. You can still help if you want.'
'Ah, you heard,' Boris smiled.
'Yes, I did,' Chester replied trying to sound casual. 'Nice of you do drop by, we thought you were liking it on the wings of victory. Alright, sorry,' he corrected himself when the admiral looked the other way.
'No, you were totally right. I was haughty. Bad for the morale and all, I know. Whatever. Is the Amerigo all ready?'
'A-ffirmative, cap'n. I heard we were waiting on the battlecruisers.'
'The Enteos, really. Anyway, I better get going. I have work to do.'
Boris walked out of the room, returned to the dropship and once back in his battlecruiser, he returned to the bridge. He didn't know why he came here, to the empty dark bridge where only two operators were keeping an eye over the stats of the Andronikos during the night shift. He ignored their salutes and let his legs take him to the row of windows that stretched through three of the four walls of the most important room for the flagship.
Outside, there were the countless stars of outer space, scattered on the black canvas of the universe. In the vicinity rested some of the Terran ships, made of metal and inferior to those of the Protoss, but still somehow dear to him. To the left, there was the huge black circle of the planet – they were seeing its dark side. Forty-eight hours from now the fleet would have to already have checked it up and waited for the Protoss to see what to do next. And then, he would probably have to surrender command of the fleet to Ferguson and wait for his end on one of the beds at the medical sector, like McNorman. Hell, the admiralship of this expedition seemed to have a curse hanging over it.
Nah, nonsense. Boris turned to the door and headed for his cabin.
***
The next day the repairs on the battlecruisers were being finished. All the remaining sections of the power grid were renewed and brought back to functionality. All the systems were checked and were deemed ready to serve. There was no mention of the accident with Richardson. The cut explanation that Paskirov provided for the blood was sufficient and nothing registered the radiation leak from the Colossus reactor that blighted the admiral. Richardson's disappearance was attributed to an accident onboard his Wanderer-class ship which had, unfortunately, killed him and an empty coffin was sent into space as part of the burial ceremony.
The whole day felt ephemeral to Boris. Despite for his physical efforts in helping the repairs, at the evening he still thought it was all just a dream. It was as if his mind was refusing to accept that twenty four of the hundred and fifty or so hours remaining had passed beyond reclaiming. Or was it his devotion to doing the job and total obliviousness to all former daily needs that were so characteristic of the careless life of a normal person? He could not decide, nor did that bother him. All that bothered him that evening, when he was at his normal place on the bridge of the flagship, with all the activity around him, was the success of the mission.
In the morning of the 11th of November, fleet time, all ships were ready and preparing to enter the planet. Boris was observing the data of the planet. Average of ten degrees, breathable air, although funny-smelling as expected, aridity... And then no reading of a naturally occurring magnetic field. That was supposed to explain the magnetic storm so close to the planet, where ships were otherwise supposed to be safe. 2481fNO09, named after the year of its discovery and the date as in the fleet calendar – it would be re-named back on Umoja once the time dilation considerations connected to traveling through warp space were calculated – looked like some of the familiar planets in the Terran sector, like Antiga Prime or Mar Sara. It lacked any significant vegetation, it lacked huge bodies of water, and therefore any clouds. There were no particularly tall mountains, nor any deep oceans. Analysis of the biosphere suggested that the blue and green spots down below located around the seas were where most of the flora of the planet was found. All else was just arid.
The ships entered the atmosphere and began the usual triangulation from the sphere's readings. The location of the temple was on the dark side of the planet and after some overflight around the area, the supposed ruins of the temple were discovered in the darkness of the night.
However, the Terrans also discovered an enemy colony fifty kilometers from the temple. It was much smaller than the one on Gawessa, so Boris did not hesitate to order both its quick destruction, and starting the exploration of the complex. And so, the armed forces of the Umojan expeditionary fleet deployed near the colony, with only small elements plus two of the Wanderer-class ships left away to watch over the science team down at the colony. The Terran armor, infantry, ships and chemical weapons poured down on the troubled Zerg like hellfire and left only ruin and ash behind them, but Boris did not enjoy the view. As he was observing one of the advances of the ground force from the bridge, he coughed in his hands and he saw that there was blood. One of the operators saw it.
'Vice Admiral Ferguson, you are in charge of the operation,' he turned away from the screen where the battle was unveiling and called his second-in-command. 'I need to retire and see one of the doctors.'
***
Down at the temple, the science team was very excited. The Umojans had seen nothing like it before. The temple was not a single building in the field. Nor was it several clusters as the rough data taken during the night had shown. This planet housed a whole complex of the familiar ruins, arranged in shapes that the Terrans had never seen before.
On the naked yellowish-brown ground there was a complex of ruins that spanned for over thirty kilometers in diameter. It was ringed by a long circle of structures with colonnades and pyramidal bodies and towers, all made of stone in various hues of gray. Within this circle, there were visible various shapes. Lines, and circles all wound around one another and stretched over many kilometers, twisting on the open field only to meed in the middle. The amazing thing about them was that they were not made of plain road or of double rows of columns, but of more ancient structures. Countless temple-like edifices were aligned in perfect symmetry under the skies, within the major circle. The scientists began taking multiple photos, fearing to stop, like a gold miner is afraid to let go of a promising piece of gold that was found after many hours of labor, as if the complex would somehow disappear that very moment.

Part 2 Chapter 16: Wings of Gold

2011-04-21T23:19:00.000+03:00

2481 C.E.
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
WARP SPACE ON COURSE TO GAWESSA 5

'Soldiers of Umoja!
This is your admiral speaking. Many unusual events have befallen our brave expedition to unknown planets lately. Our fleet encountered new races that we and our friends back home could only dream of. And, at the same time, we were subjected to great hazards and we saw not only welcoming and friendship, but also distrust and open hostility from the new beings that this corner of the the vast universe is a home to. Many of you may wonder what the hideous Zerg or the graceful and stoic Protoss are, what they want and what they stand for. Especially the Protoss, with whom we recently quarreled bitterly but are now friends with. I believe that the success of this operation requires each and every one of us to know what is happening and so I will tell you. Our scientists have exchanged valuable information and lore with the wise Protoss and have told me what these two races are.
The Zerg we faced and found hostile, my friends, are a wild kin of parasitic, tyrannical beings, bent on destruction, that exist to infest more and more worlds and consume all living things they find. They turn their victims into more vicious mindless monsters and thus boost the numbers of their infinitely large Zerg swarm. We do not know how big the Swarm is, nor how many planets have fallen under its sinister touch, but we know that it will stop to nothing to devour all life. This means that it is a threat to the Protoss and even to us, Terrans, and our own home planet of Umoja, as all other civilized planets of the Terran sector. The Zerg are our enemies, my men, they are enemies of all mankind!
The Protoss, however, are not our enemies. We thought they were, yes, back on Jardis, when the first feeble negotiations failed and the seeds of discord found rich soil in our common inability to find agreement. The feud, born in ignorance, kept bringing us to war whenever we met, as far as the deserts of 2472AU02, only to our common Zerg enemy's benefit. For the Protoss, too, are in war with the vile Zerg. Their war with the aliens is much older than ours and also much more bitter. For centuries have our brave friends resisted the infinite hunger of the Swarm.
There was something about our Protoss friends that helped keep their spirits fast throughout those turbulent times. I know that most of you have begun to feel admiration and appreciation for the highness of our allies. I share it and I believe that it is necessary for our friendship. Among all their talents, my soldiers, there is even one special mental property that keeps them safe from the consuming embrace of the Zerg and has, until now, preserved their purity from the Swarm!
However, we learned troubling things in the last two months. You know that this fleet was sent to uncharted space to gather information on alien artifacts. Our scientists learned of the existence of a special artifact that holds the secret of how the Zerg can overcome our Protoss friends' natural defense! Somewhere out there exists a special slab that holds secrets that can mean the doom of the Protoss race – and eventually that of our very own. Our disagreements with the Protoss were caused by the confused actions of their former leader who wanted to obtain it, but not destroy it. Now, however, he is dead, and every single Protoss has agreed that the destruction of this slab is the most important thing that has to be done in the vast war we found ourselves involved in. I am sure that you, too, realize the threat the Zerg will become if they somehow devour the essence of our mighty allies. There is no telling what might could be unleashed upon the Terran planets once the Protoss fall and become a part of the Swarm. Therefore, I have ordered that this fleet abandon its original purpose with which it was sent from Umoja and instead join the effort to preserve our two civilizations, to preserve order, justice, and freedom – the things we all stand for, regardless if we are Terran or Protoss. Our fleet, men, is on a course to finding the slab and destroying it once and for all.
Now, the joint efforts of the most knowing of our both kins have guided us to the supposed locations of the slab. Our mission is to get to it before the Zerg do and deny these monstrosities the power to promulgate their vileness over all of space.
I am confident that success is possible if you will all dedicate all your bravery and will to victory to this noble cause. Triumph is not impossible, men, and I will do my best to achieve it. However, I will need you to go with me through the storm and to victory. The only thing that can fail us now is our own selves, our cowardice or sloth. Therefore do not let them take the best of you! Be brave and dedicated to this mission, and we will return to Umoja triumphant, as real heroes, to the pride of our families, friends, and civilization in front of all humanity!
This is Admiral Paskirov. End of message.'
This was the message that the personnel of Paskirov's fleet heard the evening before exiting warp space.
Ten hours later, the combined force of the Terrans and the Protoss had emerged from the strangeness of warp space into the cold darkness of space above its destination – the volcanic world of Gawessa 5. The obsidian surface of the black sphere was visible at certain spots where the gray veil of clouds of volcanic ash was torn by the rough winds of the seemingly dead world. Yet the Terran high command knew from their Protoss friends that there was, indeed, life on the planet. Gawessa 5 was infested by Zerg. Even a morbid world like this was not spared by the mindless swarms of the terrifying aliens. The enemies had come here first.
Somewhere on Gawessa, on a place that only Zaraldis and a few others from his Sei'Tara tribe knew, all the knowledge that Xentus had accumulated was stored. Boris did not know what that Zerg puppet Xentus had written his observations on, but whatever the material was, it was probably hard enough to make basic furniture from if it was in this fiery scorched desert. He ordered the flagship to approach the main Protoss carrier, the Nerhala, and called Williams.
'Yes, sir, this is the right place,' the ghost interpreted Zaraldis' reply without a single effort to sound emotional. 'This is the place, he says, where Xentus was initiated or something.'
'Wow, why would he come here?' Paskirov decided to give some space to random curiosity.
'Xentus chose it himself. He found a piece of rock among this tectonic wreckage solid enough to allow for a safe place to put his belongings. They can pick their place and our man chose here,' Williams said. 'Probably he was a rotten nut since the beginning.'
'Right. Anyway, he is put down for good. For everybody's best, even. Thank you major,' Paskirov concluded, 'time to get to work.'
The expeditionary fleet, prepared to go to the surface of the planet. Beside the Terrans, the Protoss carriers, too soared through the burning air stained with sulfur and volcanic gases. Zaraldis knew the approximate location of his master's reliquary and the Nerhala was leading the united force above the burned blackness scarred with bright yellow and red lava flowing through streams and rivers throughout massive dark rocks and wide dark gray fields of dry ash. There was no life on this planet, Boris saw, at least not large enough to make a difference for any soldier who decided to walk in the surface. Except Zerg.
Soon, the shiny golden ship that guided the rest through the lifeless plains stopped. On the bridge of the Andronikos, the familiar noise and liveliness between the four neosteel walls were returning as the Umojan fleet prepared for whatever kind of insertion could be necessary. To the left of the Andronikos was one of the Wanderer-class vessels and beyond it were the first Protoss carriers. Behind the battlecruiser were the rest of the human ships, to its left were hills of volcanic wasteland stretching beneath gray clouds, and in front of it was the golden body of the Nerhala, its massive engines glowing in very bright blue. Further on, there were some hills and several small volcanoes with some pinkish mass on them like moss on rocks in any of the more hospitable planets Boris had been on. Data was received that this was the Zerg.
'Commander, the executor reports that somewhere in the enemy hive cluster is the location of the reliquary,' Williams said impartially. He was just the right man to bring you bad news, Boris thought, so detached as if he was being forced to read through lists of war victims for several consecutive days and had been stripped of any interest to the plight behind each new name.
'What does the executor suggest about clearing it from Zerg presence?' Paskirov asked. The presence of the aliens was not a good sign. The two allies had arrived second, at least to the precious data about where the slab could be.
'He says that the structure is down there somewhere, hidden in the depths of this small mountain. He says that the information may already be known to the enemy and that they may have destroyed it,' the ghost interpreted.
'Right, that's not new. Tell him that we must at least check what's inside the reliquary. We aren't leaving here with empty hands,' the admiral tried to fight the disappointment of the enemy's presence.
Williams focused and replied, 'The executor agrees to the plan for an attack. But he has considerations about the large number of hostiles that the scanners register in the hive.'
Boris took a pair of binoculars and looked at the hive in the distance, ignoring the live footage on the screens on the bridge. The hive cluster was long and poured down from its plateau to the small valley between it and a small nearby volcano. He nevertheless checked the maps scan and began thinking how could their force engage the foe.
Williams was standing for aloof next to the contemplating admiral for about twenty minutes when Boris suddenly returned to the reality of the warship and ordered the ghost, 'Mike, give me the executor, I have an idea. I need to discuss the battleplan with him. Ask him to come.'
A while later, the Protoss had reviewed the maps and Boris' ideas and addes some of his own and the assault of the hive cluster was decided.
***
The two fleets were approaching the west section of the enemy colony from the south. Steadily the distance between the pulsating organic structures on the small elevation and the sophisticated Protoss and Terran ships decreased. Boris was steadily watching the movements of the vessels on one of the tactical screens of the Andronikos.
Then, as allied force was ten kilometers from the western colony, he gave the order for an artillery barrage upon the enemies. The three battlecruisers spread out at an 800m altitude and unleashed the familiar fury their long-range batteries upon the hive cluster. The smaller Terran ships were behind them, still in the air, waiting to play their part in the engagement. The Protoss, too, were nearby, ready to protect the battlecruisers from any hostile air units with the robotic interceptors and the swift scout fighters they carried onboard.
About a minute after the first blasts had incinerated the edges of the cluster, Boris saw that the assistance of the Protoss air force would be needed. Like a swarm of angry bees, a cloud of Zerg rose above their colony and headed for the fleets. As the dark multitude approached through the dense air, he gave the signal to the Wanderer-class vessels to commence defensive maneuvers.
The warships were then lifted by their gravity generators above the level of the battlecruisers. The science vessels formed the defensive matrices of energy around them while they moved forwards to repel the enemy. Nearby, the several squadrons of Protoss scouts left the safety of the carriers' interior and moved even higher, above one kilometer, waiting for the mutalisks to come closer.
The fleet was now getting an estimate of the number of the enemies. The reading on the screens told Boris there were about four hundred hostiles in that cloud, more than the expeditionary fleet could engage alone, but hopefully not too many to be a threat to a combined force. The barrage from the battlecruisers continued on, slowly evaporating the enemy base away. Behind and above them the wanderers were sending hails of small laser fire and the scouts were waiting.
Then, the enemies drew even closer and the battlecruisers replied with their anti-air cannons. The cloud was at approximately the same altitude as the massive warships, so the support from above was going to make a scorpion flanking from above. Before the first mutalisks could spew whatever they fired, the fire from the six supporting warships reached them and blasted them. The light ships moved forward, spraying glowing death against the Zerg and fending them off the battlecruisers. Then, when the mutalisk group was about to hit the Terrans with the force of its weight, the Protoss scouts soared down against the enemies. Aiming at the second lines who were not reached by the Wanderers' batteries, the Protoss squadrons, each in attack formation, began releasing their powerful anti-matter missiles. The pernicious projectiles, armed with anti-matter payload, quickly found their victims among the crowd of Zerg and exploded with bright flashes of heat and radiation. The Protoss were not in a hurry to empty their arsenal, to avoid overkill, so after a couple more attacks from above, they had substantially reduced the number of flying enemies. Seeing this and the effective support of the Umojan wanderers, the Protoss commander ordered the scouts to take on the Zerg in air combat and rout them. It was time to finish the job.
Boris was watching the enemy air force melt away from the bridge with satisfaction. The capabilities of the Protoss, he hoped, would have a positive influence on the morale of the Umojans, which was something they would need now that the Zerg had won the first of the last laps. After a few more minutes, the last vestiges of the chewed up mutalisk flock were running back to base to recuperate from the harm. In vain, Boris thought to himself, for after a few hours there will be no...
'Admiral?' the voice of one of the operators interrupted his thoughts.
'Yes?'
'Sir, the engineers report a bad effect of the volcanic gases around here on our filters. The residues are overloading the ventilation not only for breathable air but also for the engines and other requirements for the vessel.'
'What does that mean?' Paskirov asked, surmising the negative nature of the answer.
'Well, we need to divert energy from other sources on the ship to the autohomeostatic system of the vessel. This includes the batteries. They give us an hour or so of firing left.'
Damn, Boris groaned, not now! All other alternatives for attacking were connected to casualties. Well, friction and all that...
'Give me Major Williams,' he ordered and prepared to tell Zaraldis the bad news.
The technical complication in the battlecruisers, the commanders realized, meant that they had to come up with a whole new plan. Williams interpreted the long talk while the fleets waited in standard formation and by the time the new plan was decided he was feeling exhausted.
'We will make the assault on the eastern colony possible, executor,' Paskirov informed Zaraldis, 'we just need you to fight beside us on the open field.'
***
Half an hour later, the two fleets were moving towards the western colony to finish the job. Williams and his special infantry company were to be deployed in the latter waves of dropships, so he was staying in one of the observer rooms in docking bay 4 of the Andronikos and was looking at the dispositions of the fleets' forces.
The first wave of dropships with personnel from the battalion separated from the big ships and flew ahead. At a speed of about 100 kilometers per hour, the dropships quickly reached the easy slopes close to the western colony. Unusual for Boris, he thought, since the admiral rarely made such risky maneuvers. If the enemy decided to strike now, when the rest of the fleet was away, the first wave would be helpless and alone and those soldiers would face their death. Yet again, the admiral was kind of haughty after the Protoss joined the effort to end the legacy of Xentus...
Suddenly, the dropships turned east, towards the Protoss who were now south of and in the middle between the two colonies. Was Boris deciding to send the men under the protection of the allied fleet?
Then, as he was watching the console, leaning on the wall, Williams felt the floor move and almost fell on the ground under the weight of his C-10. He jumped to the window to the docking bay and looked outside the bay. Most of the view of the planet was hidden by the front of the massive wing of the Andronikos and the huge batteries it supported. However, under it Williams could see the ground move and realized that the ships were making a sharp turn eastwards. The screen confirmed.
Down below the first units were on the ground and the major joined his platoon in the dock and prepared to go to the inhospitable surface.
It was already a bleak gray noon, Williams saw when he stepped out of the dropship. The light from the nearby star was blocked by the thick, static veil of clouds high above. The zone he was walking in was no more encouraging. His men were on the slopes of elevated dead ground that culminated into a small volcano some kilometers north. The view west of them, however, was better. They were overlooking the positions of the whole battalion downwards and into the valley. Williams was deployed on the right flank of the ground force, on the higher ground, and at the other end of the long line of troops and armor, far away in the distance, were the tiny yellow Protoss carriers. Through his binoculars, Williams could discern some of the shuttles ferrying troops down to the ground and the scouts who were anxiously patrolling the airspace surrounding the deployment area.
He wondered if this were the same kind of Protoss troops that had kept him and his Confederate rescuers as captives some several months ago. If so, then the Zerg would taste the same wrath that those Confederates had to face in the big escape.
Northwest of the Terran lines lay the eastern colony. Williams scanned it freely with his binoculars, satisfying his sudden small interest as into what did the colonies contain. He could only see the gross Zerg formations, pulsating in their eerie rhythm, and perhaps some slight movement, but nothing more. Williams was sitting on a rock and watching the shuttles bring the rest of the battalion to the assembly areas when he received the signal to prepare, got a copy of the tactical map to his visor and stood up to get to the fighting.
INFCOM Zeta was supporting INFCOM Delta and they were given a role in the very periphery of the battle. While the infantry walked north-northwest, Williams was paying attention to the first maneuvers of the battalion down below.
The battalion officers had orders not to advance beyond the last phase line of the assault, “Fire.” The main attack was being carried out by the tanks in the Terran arsenal, supported by two infantry companies. Further east, separated by other tactical boundaries, were lighter units that ultimately had to provide supporting advances. The Protoss also began advancing towards the eastern hive cluster, followed by the powerful carriers that stood behind the ground units ready to aid them if need be.
One by one, all Terran units crossed their phase lines in the gradual advance towards the Zerg. Now there were new readings on Williams' screen – the Zerg were gathering in the hive and were preparing to move out and repel the allies in the open. There was no exact reading on their numbers, or at least officers on major level were not given any, but Zerg were certainly moving out southwards and eastwards towards the first Umojan units. There way of Williams' company was eerily clear and he wondered what plan was this part of.
INFCOM Zeta had recently crossed PL Water when his radio went crawked and he turned it on.
'Williams here.'
'Ah, good. This is Boris. Are you set?'
'Affirmative, Black One.'
'Right. There is something I want you to do, major.'
'Go ahead, commander.'
'You are not in the attack any more, major,' Paskirov's words made Williams jerk. 'You have a special task.'
'Yes?' the ghost retained control over his expression.
'The C-10 rifle you now have has been equipped with a special device that the scientists installed a few days ago. It is like a laser beam that can guide a missile launched from a high altitude. I want you to guide a nuke.'
'How?' a tone of surprise sneaked in Williams' voice. 'And... Where?'
'You aim the rifle at the coordinates on the ground and press the red button on the little laser scope under the muzzle. The location you will be sent soon. There will be a dropship at your location in about five minutes,' Paskirov explained. 'Any questions?'
'Won't it kill me, Black One?'
'Ah, sure. No, it won't. You will have enough time to escape. You will receive a signal once the missile's course is made certain on your radio. Then you can get on the dropship and get at least five kilometers away from ground zero. It should take you about five minutes to move outside the blast zone. The dropship can do that.'
'So... When do I get my coordinates?'
Platoon 1 of the ghost company had stopped in their tracks, waiting for their commander. Far away, the first shots from the Terrans were being fired.
'Less than a minute or something. Good luck, Mike, I'm out,' Paskirov stopped the communication.
Williams looked at his men. 'Boys, I have new orders and I'm leaving you. Until I am back, Parker is in charge of the platoon and the company. Good luck.'
As they moved on, the ghost gave a few more orders and moved northeast for the dropship.
When he got the coordinates, he felt unusual. Ground zero was located on the slope of the volcano north of here. This was going to be new.
Before Williams could give in to contemplation, the dropship arrived and he boarded it. The firing down below was getting more intense as the Zerg were drawing closer.
The ghost confirmed his identity and the pilot headed north towards the western slope of the volcano.
'I can't land there, sir,' the pilot said when he approached the thirty degree slope of the volcano,'it's so steep that the ship will slide downwards.'
'Give me a second to jump, then. Can you pick me up after that?'
'I will hover a meter over the ground, sure,' she replied.
'Good. Stay close. I'll wave my hands to let you know,' Williams replied and prepared to jump out of the cargo hold as the dropship obliquely touched the slope before lifting off again.
When he was firmly on the ground, the ghost looked around. At this altitude, he could see the whole valley and the purple-red waves now approaching the Protoss and the Terrans. Williams kneeled and aimed at the estimated coordinates a few hundred meters above in the distance. He pressed the red button and waited nervously.
***
Fifty kilometers above him, in the Mammoth-class carrier Enteos in geostationary orbit, the operators of the nuclear bay received the signal from his rifle. Less than a minute later a nuclear bomb was flying downwards through the atmosphere, ready to activate its automated flight control system to wherever the special red spot was on the ground once its sensors had a reading of it.
***
Can't I just detach this thing and go away, Williams thought, nervous of waiting for a nuclear missile to come in the vicinity. Finally, his radio started piewing and he released his breath and jumped upright and started waving his hands at the dropship. The vessel immediately soared next to him and the major leaped into the open cargo hold, eager to leave.
The dropship closed its door for protection from the radiation and quickly gained speed on its course southwards. Williams controlled his breathing with effort.
***
Several kilometers away, on the bridge of the Andronikos, Paskirov was looking at the volcano in the distance, anxious to see what the Confederate nuclear weapons were capable of. Then, he saw it. The missile emerged from the clouds flying downwards to the western slope. The black spot drew closer and closer to the rocky surface until it touched it. A bright flash at ground zero blinded Boris for a moment. Then, he saw the mushroom cloud of the nuclear explosion forming above the point where the missile had landed. The muffled sound of a deep bang was heard on the bridge and the whole battlecruiser shook in the air when the sonic blast reached the Andronikos. Boris kept watching in intoxication. The cloud grew larger and larger, engulfing the whole top of the volcano and rising several kilometers in the air. It kept heading upwards, as if wanting to connect to the volcanic clouds but beneath it the debris from the blasted rock had begun falling. Then, from under the smoke and dust that formed the stem of the mushroom cloud, bright hot lava began pouring down westwards. The gargantuan pillar of radioactive dust kept growing wider, but the lava from the open wounds of the planet was faster and now a whole river of it was descending against the hive cluster in the lower ground of the valley. Just as planned.
'All units cease advance and dig in. All dropships in full preparedness to evacuate our ground forces. Task groups one, two and three to move in and provide fire support to armored companies one, two and three,' Paskirov began giving orders. The terrain scan suggested that anyone beyond phase line “Fire” was safe from the lava, but you never knew how much exactly would pour out. So, the ships moved on into readiness.
The Protoss were doing fine. Combined Zerg forces of small zerglings and larger and more threatening hydralisks had attacked their positions in great numbers, but the mighty Sei'Tara were more than a match for them and the first enemy waves were decimated against their technological superiority. The battalion was doing well, too. The armor, combined with infantry, effectively kept the Zerg away through superior firepower and fire control. Soon, however, the real damage to the Zerg came from the lava pouring down from the volcano. Like a slow tidal wave of fire it relentlessly pushed on first through the peripheral Zerg formations, then towards the center of the colony, incinerating or vaporizing everything in its wake. Boris could see the readings from the colony, with the many tiny Zerg that were originally headed towards the Terrans' battle positions now running westwards, away from the lava. But it was in vain. Fifteen minutes later, all but some of the western polyps of the colony were gone, taken down and scorched into ash by the molten rock. Now, all that was left of the eastern hive cluster was steaming and solidifying dark lava.
'Well done!' Paskirov radioed Williams. 'Anything went smooth, right?'
'We had some problems with landing and taking off, but nothing more, commander.'
'Very good, major. Now, tell your men to prepare to move. We have another thick Zerg encampment to take down.
***
Two hours later, the infantry battalion had begun advancing against the other standing hive cluster on the west. Again the Terrans were on the left and the Protoss were on the right, by their side. Boris was sorry that the battlecruisers lacked the energy for a nice, safe destructive cannonade against the colony, especially since the reliquary was massive and was pretty much safe from any laser hits in the core of the enormous rock. They would have to do it the old-fashioned way.
At astronomical noon the assault began. The Zerg were waiting for the allies in the colony and the Terran units crossed the first two phase lines of the operation without resistance. The main attack this time, however, was to the Terrans' right, where Boris had focused the heavy armor. The warships were in the old three task groups, each with a battlecruiser and at least one science vessel. The task groups were spread evenly on the front line, but the Protoss were ready to assist in the air if necessary. This way, the firepower of the ships could be easily aimed against any enemy that tried to descend downwards against the ground force.
Williams' special forces platoon was assisting INFCOM Beta and armored company 2. The infantry was beside the tanks, ready to repel any Zerg that came too close for the tanks to deal with. Deep within, Williams hoped that this wouldn't be necessary, but he was also somewhat eager for target practice.
After PL GRAIN the group received itel that there were Zerg forces incoming from north a few kilometers away. The ghost could read the excitement in the soldiers' faces and behavior, he understood. The group was now threading carefully and after crossing phase line “Rock” their expectations were justified and they established a battle position to fight the approaching Zerg.
The enemies had zerglings and hydralisks. The tanks were taking out anything they could find in the crowd from several kilometers' distance, but the slope prevented good results so the really intense shooting was just beginning. The aliens were charging downwards under the fire of the warships from task groups three and two above and behind. Then, the tanks opened indiscriminate fire and the front lines of the aliens began quickly melting away.
The thunder of the guns, Williams began to realize, was deafening. Even his specialist headgear could not completely dampen the concussion of the tank cannons. He wondered if the Dark Templar on the other side of the right tactical boundary were having the same problems.
The Zerg forces were approaching along other corridors as well. Task group one, where the Andronikos was, kept firing the most intense of all three, it seemed to him when he checked the skies. Hopefully they would make it.
Suddenly the Zerg were less than five hundred meters away. The first ghosts had opened fire with their rifles against any enemy that approached. Williams stepped forth between the two nearby tanks situated fifty meters from each other and knelt to get a good aim. The intel was correct and there were zerglings and hydralisks approaching. He picked one of the zerglings at the first lines and pressed the trigger.
The familiar recoil of the C-10 model warmed up his shoulder, preceding the stumbling and fall of the zergling with mere miliseconds. The creepy little alien was hit in the head and experienced its last convulsions on the ash beneath it.
Then, Williams' well-honed shooting skills overtook him and he automatically acquired new and new targets and eliminated them quickly and efficiently, leaving bodies of dead Zerg behind the cold indifference of his work.
***
Up on the bridge of the Andronikos, Paskirov was observing the development of the battle and was disturbed by the middle axis of advance of the Zerg forces. The mass of zerglings and hydralisks was moving down towards the Terrans' left, slowing down the humans' weak side to a complete halt. The infantry from companies Gamma, Beta and Eta, plus third armored company of goliaths, could not match the aliens, at least not that many of them. The first and second corridor of advance had stagnated and only the best efforts of the gunners from task group one seemed to keep the situation in control.

The other corridors, however, were doing fine. Williams' group was slowly pushing through and the rightmost one was about to face only a pittance of opposition. Then, something caught his attention. The fleet was registering movement of Zerg air forces located north of the rightmost group. Mutalisks were heading eastwards. This probably meant that the Zerg were trying to attack the flanks. The rightmost group had virtually no anti-air defense, so the mutalisks could inflict heavy casualties there.
'Adjutant, order the wraiths squadron to immediately advance northwards and destroy any enemy air force they find outside the perimeter of the Zerg anti-air defenses,' Paskirov ordered.
The Protoss side of the battlefield was, as expected, successful. The powerful equipment and the enormous firepower of the carriers meant that the Protoss force was like a wall of death that destroyed everything in the wake of its slow advance. Any Zerg that went in range of the carriers' interceptors and in range of the spider-like dragoons' photon cannons and still somehow survived was quickly lacerated by the swift psi blades of the well-armored Protoss warriors. Paskirov's friends' attack was as slow as it was brutally efficient and he felt some envy for not having such force as the executor's and having to rely on tactics and trickery to keep his troops alive instead. Nonetheless, the Umojans were overall doing fine.
In the distance, northeast from their battle positions, the wraiths attacked the mutalisks. About forty fighters in four groups took turns attacking the enemies from different sides, confusing and enraging the aliens with a few casualties. Finally, the commander gave the order for the wraiths to form up in a double inverted V and charged the weakened Zerg head on. Enveloped and fired upon with Gemini anti-air missiles, the mutalisks could not resist and yielded to the Terrans' push. Their group dissipated and all survivors rushed back to the colony within the safety of the anti-air structures the Zerg were growing.
Williams was getting weary of the fighting. True, the tanks were advancing, hurriedly moving into every free centimeter of terrain that the Zerg could not control with force, slowly pushing the enemies backwards with heavy fire. However, it was the slowest advance the major had ever participated in and, seeing the apparent lack of progress within their tactical boundaries of combat responsibility, he hoped that the other fronts were doing better.
To Boris' displeasure on the Andronikos, the left flank was giving in. Clearly, infantry by itself was not enough to face the Zerg, and INFCOM Eta were beginning to take heavy casualties. The Protoss were already ahead of the Umojans' planned phase line “Rock,” so Boris decided that it was time to call for aid.
And aid followed. The nearest carrier turned west and released its golden cloud of countless interceptors upon the Zerg. Slowly, like a flame through thin wood, the elegant Protoss ship was eating through the alien group, drawing the enemies' attention towards itself and alleviating the burden from the exhausted infantry companies. The first supply dropships quickly arrived, ready to vivify the troops, while a combined group of Protoss zealots and dragoons advanced towards the still dangerous group of Zerg, hurrying to face and destroy the hideous enemies.
***
Half an hour later, most of the Zerg force was destroyed and the rest had retreated to the safety of the colony. From the bridge of the Terran flagship overlooking the battlefield, Boris was analyzing the allies' prospects. He ordered half an hour of rest and combat service support for all units and contacted Zaraldis.
'Greetings, executor,' he began, trying to sound as elegant as possible in order to please the Protoss. 'We have bested the enemies in the open, but, I think, there is yet another struggle in front of us. We are to crush the Zerg hive cluster by force.'
'Yes. My warriors are ready to do their duty to the Sei'Tara. How are yours?' the interpreter ghost translated.
'We will rise to a fight and destroy our enemies before the lava of the nearby volcano has completely solidified,' Boris said and immediately wondered if it hadn't turned into rock already. 'Ahem, I will tell you when we are ready. How's that?'
'I'm glad to hear that and I agree, human commander.'
***
About an hour later, the combined force of Terrans and Protoss was moving towards the weakened colony. Boris was feeling like giving command to Vice-Admiral Ferguson, but decided that he had to finish the job on his own and forced himself for one last push. The battalion carefully entered the vicinity of the hive cluster, diligently blasting any possible source of resistance with firepower. They would have to send the SCV's to do some mining, Paskirov thought, in order to make up for the ammunition expenditure in the fight. And probably call it a day and dissolve INFCOM Eta after this and reinforce the other four. A few more hours of fighting through Zerg creep and goo and surprising spikes from various directions, the hive cluster was disarmed and Protoss carriers were left to sweep through the defenseless remains of the hive with their automated interceptors. Everyone else rested while the scientists excavated what was left in the reliquary.
***
'Well, sir,' Konrad spoke like an annoyed medic who was assuring yet another scared soldier that his fears were pointless, 'we have examined the slabs and everything with the runes and we consulted the Protoss and... There's nothing about the location of the slab. Nothing. Just some more info about the round sanctuary it's kept in and so on, but no starmap or guidance of any sort imaginable.'
Several days had passed of the expeditionary fleet resting and patching itself up from the toil of hte battle. Yet the scientists had not found a clue.
'Right. So you are saying that we still don't know where the slab is...' Paskirov murmured in displeasure. 'This is not good. This is not good at all. It implies that the Zerg are also clever enough to know what exactly to take away from the damned place. If Xentus hadn't done it himself already!'
Konrad sat back in his chair in the conference room of the Andronikos and looked aside to avoid the admiral's angry eyes. A few seats away, Chester was playing with some reports in his hand.
'Well, Boris, perhaps the executor will know of another place that was important for Xentus. We could go there,' he suggested and the other scientists in the room nodded in confirmation.
'Right. I'll need to tell him the bad news first,' he frowned. 'Also, try to call me admiral, after all, I am your superior.'
The Umojan was stung by the remark.
'Sure, whatever, admiral...' he said with displeasure and put the papers on the table.
'I won't need you gentlemen for anything else,' Boris then began sending the scientists away, keeping a good tone, 'you were most useful to us, thank you, keep up the good work. Be aware that I realize your efforts and will not berate you for being unable to extract water from a rock, I can do no better than you all. Feel free to inform me of any breakthrough you come up with, at any time: you know that I desire it as much as any of you,' he finished and left the group head to the docking bays while he himself went to the bridge.'
***
That evening, Chester was sitting in his cabin, contemplating on the difficulty of the mission. Find a slab. Without any clues. Or find clues. On any uncharted planet even the latter was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Their chances of success in outer space were infinitesimal. Could the sphere be of any good to them? Unlikely. It just pointed to the planets on those specific systems. But the list of them was exhausted. Even the best of the Sei'Tara maps had confirmed that. The fleet had visited all known planets indicated by the sphere and found nothing, even with the artifact's triangulation capabilities. The distance... Could it be that there was something about the distance that they hadn't thought of yet?
Chester grabbed the data of the sphere's inner orrery and reviewed it. Something about the ratio of the rotational period of the planets – no, no meaningful matches. The distances between the planets' orbits, perhaps? No, the distance between the absolute center and the first one was like that between the first and the second one, and that between number two and three was approximately two of these pseudo-astronomical units, and then the next one was three pseudo-astronomical units...
An idea occurred to him. One, one, two, three was the beginning of a famous sequence in mathematics discovered more than twelve centuries ago by the mathematician Leonardo of Pisa, also called Fibonacci. It was the fastest growing ratio known to the practically applicable mathematics, and also one where each following member was phi times bigger than the previous one, that is, 1.618 times the preceding. This was the famous Golden ratio that Chester's professors liked to point out to him in places he didn't suspect it existed and marvel at how full of surprising harmony the natural world was. To which he replied that this was nothing unusual and the only meaningful reason some vegetables had parts that contained the golden ratio and other vegetables didn't was because the former had simply had the fortune for their species to evolve and adjust itself to whatever special arrangements existed in nature faster than the species of the latter. Of which, on the other hand, his biology professors approved.
Yet this data, was it a coincidence? Was it by pure chance that the orbits were aligned like that? It would require some measurement to verify if this was, indeed, correct, but that answered nothing about the question of where the sanctuary could be. Chester looked at the list of planets. Nothing correlational about them, except that they were relatively inhabitable. Or at least inhabitable enough for the Xel'Naga who built those temples to live in. He opened some three-dimensional starmaps and plotted the four systems indicated by the sphere. To his surprise, they were aligned in a plain. He gasped at his discovery. He rotated the map to take a closer look from above and saw the arrangement of the four planets. Another surprising fact: they were arranged in something similar to a square. A wide grin appeared on Chester's face as the excitement in him was growing.
Then, the thought of locating the original temple planet as well. Its location was shown with a bright red glow at the point on the starmap – a point that looked almost equidistant from the other four! In his mind the young Umojan connected the five dots and a pretty square pyramid emerged in space, outlined by the red spots. Almost was not an answer, though. How did the systems look like when... The Protoss were made? Or, earlier than that. Setting the starmap to extrapolate three or four thousand years into the past... Bingo – a neat square pyramid in outer space!
But, still, this did not answer the question where the missing sanctuary could be. Where, relative to this fortunate, and probably custom-made, order of the interstellar space could the sanctuary be placed? First and most logical guess was the point directly opposite to the very first temple relative to the base... Making an octahedron... The current absence of anything at that specific point began discouraging Chester. Yet again, three millenia ago it was probably different. The best of the Umojan starmaps confirmed that. There were several nearby planetary systems at those coordinates, but none was examined in detail with number of planets and, possibly, orbits by the Umojans. Yet. The distances and the necessary calculations that made life of astronomers difficult were probably what kept the Umojans from tackling the contents of that specific sector of distant space. One of the templated nearby systems, however, was supposed to be on the right place at the right time, back in the antiquity. Could that system hold the special planet? Chester had just unearthed plenty of material for the scientists of the fleet to chew on for the next several days.
He began taking screenshots and writing a rushed paper on the subject of his fortunate discoveries. Let Boris sleep for now – waking him up later in the night, when I'm done, will tease the admiral even more, Chester thought to himself.

Part 2 Chapter 15: Paradigm Shift

2011-04-21T23:18:00.004+03:00

2481 C.E.
OUTSKIRTS OF SAVASSILAR
SEI'TARA HOMEWORLD

Paskirov, Carla and Chester stood still in the middle of the circle of guards – huge figures of twisted air – while Xentus walked closer. He raised his hand from under his black robes and Carla interpreted for the other two.
'We are to follow him.'
'Not much choice, let's go,' Boris said.
'What happens to the rest of the fleet?' Chester asked as he made his first uneasy steps towards Savassilar.
'No idea, bud. We hope for the best.'
The three survivors walked in the dusk through the open rocks and onto a road that led to the Protoss city. The three Terran captives – Boris, Carla, and Chester, in their best uniforms, were heading to unknown places under enemy vigil. The aliens around them were moving with cruel precision, and although he could not discern their exact number, Chester knew that he was at their mercy.
Savassilar was a strange-looking city of dark buildings with a huge golden pyramidal structure far away in the center. Most of the buildings had straight lines and were painted in blue and green hues, but some seemed to have golden walls or even wings. Their almost windowless shapes were often broken up and strange lamps placed on them illuminated the streets between them with bright blue light. Occasionally, a larger golden edifice with rose above the dark houses and the labyrinthine streets, its bright, clean walls contrasting to the shadowy clumps. There were almost no Protoss in the open, Chester noticed while walking through what appeared to be a twisting boulevard between larger and better maintained city buildings in the proximity of the pyramid. Unsure where everybody was, he looked one last time up at the enormous pyramid they were close to. A vast staircase on one of its sides led to a gateway of some sort in its front side. Its pinnacle was not golden, but a giant blue crystal placed on a platform that completed the perfectly smooth sides of the structure. From the four angles of the base of the pyramid rose four tall straight spires, each with four straight walls that closed in and made a sharp curve inwards, toward the pinnacle of the pyramid at their top. Each supported some sort of crystal that glowed in the same pale light like the big one in the middle. The center of the Protoss capital.
Zaraldis and Xentus left the three in front of a tall building and the humans were walked in by the guards. In a deserted, windowless room on the second floor, the Protoss tied their hands together and loosely around a metal pylon in the middle of the room.
'We are going to be executed later in the evening,' Carla tried to sound impersonal.
Then the guards left through the curtain that hung instead of a door.
'Oh, great, executed. Way a go, Boris,' Chester murmured.
'It wasn't my fault, how could I know that Zaraldis had known of all this. Or that he is too stupid to believe what he saw.'
'You bet too much on logic, admiral. And you lost,' Carla noted coldly.
'You aren't helping me, sergeant,' Boris replied in vexation. 'How about we think of a way to get out...'
He was interrupted by the cracking sound of two hard objects colliding and Chester moaning in pain.
'What the hell is going on there?' he asked, trying to look behind him in vain.
'That's for the wires... Doctor.' the ghost said with cold hostility.
'She hit me in the head!'
'Knock it off and start looking for something,' Paskirov scolded them. 'There's absolutely nothing except a rag on my third of the room.'
'I've got nothing either,' Chester concluded.
'Negative.'
'Damn, then...' Boris moved in his place. 'The ropes are too tight. They are so coarse I'm going to bleed soon.'
'Yea,' the scientist replied absent-mindedly.
'Did you see the first half of the pendant? Xentus had it. It was the thing we gave the separatists in return for the sphere. He must have destroyed them.'
'Mhm.'
'Such a waste of good genes. I mean, this is such a failure. We are a waste. A whole fleet thrown to the wind. Sorry about your people,' Paskirov shook his head. 'How did we end up here? A week ago we dominated them on the ground and now we're captives. It's a shame. It feels like I'm back with Anders on that wretched planet where they caught us the first time, remember? Man, that was bad. And I mean 'bad' as in 'attacked in Calbad street' in Tarsonis. Happened to a friend once... Never mind.'
Carla sighed.
'Thing is,' the admiral resumed, 'now it's even worse. Our boys up there are in grave danger and face being crushed badly. I mean, my boys. I'm the admiral and, blah, that makes the responsibility ever more burdensome. You know what? My uncle would be really, really disappointed with me if he saw me. If he were here...'
Chester tried to ignore Boris' train of thought but there was nothing meaningful left to do in the situation except to endure the admiral's boring tirade towards life and hope that Carla's nervous movements next to him were not the presage of some wave of violent anger that he would have to absorb.
As he himself was descending into bleak thoughts, muffled sounds of distant explosions began to be heard. Bangs were coming from somewhere and Chester could not identify the exact location.
'What was that?' Carla asked.
Paskirov turned more serious. 'Right, I don't know. Sounds like a battle, if you ask me.'
'Who's fighting?'
'Most probably our guys against the Protoss,' he concluded to her. 'I hope not, though, because the Protoss here could use us to threaten or blackmail our fleet. And if that would be the case, Chester, I hope you are ready to die.'
Chester felt his stomach twist in fear and he gulped in terror.
'That's what I thought,' Carla murmured.
The bangs were growing louder.

A FEW HOURS EARLIER
BATTLECRUISER “ANDRONIKOS”
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
SEI'TARA HOMEWORLD
Vice-admiral Ferguson saw the lightnings and the destruction of the Aldrin from the bridge and Williams could hear him gasp.
'What the hell just happened?!' he uttered.
Nothing good, the ghost thought.
An operator was heard from the consoles a few meters 'Sir, we lost contact with dropship UA06.' It was the one down on the ground. 'Its signal just ceased.'
'What do you mean, Paskirov is down there!' Ferguson angrily replied. 'Damn, something has gone terribly wrong. Without the science vessel, they won't see any cloaked enemies.'
The officers were looking at him.
'Shall we open fire or send air forces?' one inquired.
'Negative. It's too risky. The targets are too small, plus, what if the enemies take our delegation as hostages? Operator, give me a visual from the scene,' the vice-admiral ordered.
One of the special cameras on the hull adjusted its focus on the location of the meeting and its recording was displayed on one of the screens in the bridge. The quality was bad, but the humans were discernible and the men aboard the battlecruiser saw their flight and imprisonment.
'What shall we do, sir?' Williams quickly asked.
'I haven't given you permission to speak, major,' the vice-admiral said, but then softened his tone. 'There is nothing meaningful we can do here. We should go back to the fleet and discuss everything with them. Maybe we could trade the Protoss commanders for our delegation.'
'We could send an extraction team down there,' the ghost suggested.
'Pointless. We have no idea where they are kept.'
'Sir, with all due respect, you are forgetting that there is a ghost down there. We can hear each other over distances.'
'Furthermore, I don't want more hostages. Negative, major. Who knows what you are walking straight in. This is the capital of the Protoss and we don't even have intelligence about it.'
'Sir...'
'Now, now, major, we cannot risk ruining what good relations we have left with the Sei'Tara. I am calling a brief video conference now. Don't worry, we will do everything we can. But you will stay safe.'
Williams had nothing to do but wait while the battlecruiser was heading upwards, back to the expeditionary fleet.
Ferguson told the rest of the high command about the latest developments, but while he was finishing his explanation, Summers, on the bridge of the huge Mammoth-class carrier, noticed that something was wrong with the Protoss ships. All six of them were moving towards the planet.
'Vice-admiral, excuse me, sir, but what is going on with the enemy ships?' he asked.
The meeting turned chaotic as the officers stepped back and walked to some of the windows on the bridges.
'They are moving away!'
'Who ordered that?'
'What's going on?'
Voices of confusion were heard away from the screens.
'Everybody return and report what's wrong up there!' Ferguson ordered.
'The carriers, sir. They are leaving the fleet,' Richardson answered.
'What the hell are you talking about?'
'Confirmed here, sir,' Arnold spoke. 'We have six enemy carriers inbound.'
'Arnold, get the enemy commanders and tell them to order their ships to stop. Now!' Ferguson wasted no time. 'Everybody else, prepare to open fire on them if they do not stop. I will be with you shortly.'
Things were really getting out of hand.
'Arnold, what is going on there?' the vice-admiral prompted the Graf von Moltke.
'Sir, none of the six Protoss commanders is responding. They are just kneeling there and aren't saying a word to our ghosts.'
Williams heard this and something was telling him that the captured commander's value as hostages was diminishing.
'Order them to hold their vessels or face execution,' Ferguson decided.
'Yes, sir,' the commodore confirmed.
Williams was growing worried, for reasons he could not think of.
'Sir, they are not responding,' Arnold spoke on the screen.
'Damn, are they decoys or something? The hell with this, threaten them with death. With the killing of a random one. That should work.'
The carriers were drifting further away.
'Vice-admiral, it's no use.' A pause. 'One of them is dead. They are refusing to cooperate.'
Ferguson was getting angry. 'Fine! All ships close in to the enemy ships and open fire. All batteries! Major Williams, be so kind as to tell whoever is in charge on those ships to get the hell back here.'
The ghost looked at him. 'I'll do my best, sir, but they are very far away.' Williams focused and urged them to return, but heard no answer. 'Sir, I'm afraid it doesn't work.'
'Then all men to battle stations and let's get them.'
The expeditionary fleet raced towards the escaping Protoss carriers. They moved at full speed, but the enemies were faster. The fire from the fleet caused no tangible harm to the alien ships. Having no other choice, the Umojans followed them through the planet's atmosphere up until the region around Savassilar. There, to the Terrans' surprise, two other carriers had joined the six escapees.
'Alright, everybody, it's show time... Wait, major, do you mind offering them an exchange, their surviving captains for our three VIP's first?' Ferguson's readiness for battle was showing through his haughty demeanor.
'Nothing there, vice-admiral,' Williams said impersonally. 'May I again suggest extraction procedures? Given that the battle will give a spec-ops unit additional cover?'
The Umojan commander reflected on the suggestion for two seconds then agreed. 'Go ahead, major, I authorize you to execute the operation if you wish so much. We don't need you for the fighting anyway.'
'Thank you, sir,' Williams smiled. 'I'll be back with our friends.'
'I'm sure you will... Alright, everybody, let's show them who's boss,' Ferguson walked back the bridge. 'Fire the EMP's.'
Without wasting time, the Terrans entered the battlefield and engaged the enemies. Sacrificing order for speed, Ferguson led the ships towards the enemy ignoring any tactical considerations. The fleet bathed the shieldless carriers with lasers and after another EMP salvo he sent the fighters to engage the enemy's left flank while the big ships were busy with the Protoss right. Then, the Protoss managed to fly out their own smaller ships and had cut the distance enough so that the interceptors posed a danger for the Terrans. The two fleets were caught in the fight.
In the meantime, Williams had assembled his special squad of three more ghosts – Dallas, Ling, and Carlos. Well-armed with all things useful for urban warfare, they waited in the red-lighted cargo hold of the dropship that was taking them away from the fleet and towards the hostile settlement. Insignificant in the raging battle, the little vessel sneaked past the bigger ships and headed to the thin woods near Savassilar with its dangerous load. As the battle was raging, and the Umojan ships were maneuvering in unknown ways, a small Protoss shuttle flew nearby.
Twenty minutes later, the dropship had landed in the open between some rocks and the ghosts checked their gear for the last time.
'Sir, where are the VIP's?' Dallas asked.
'That we will find out eventually. Sergeant Ravros is one of the captured and she's a ghost,' Williams replied.
'Shouldn't we call her now?'
The major took a second before answering. 'No, we will get closer to the settlement first and then I will contact them.'
'As you say.'
***
Summers was standing on the bridge of the Graf von Moltke, keeping away from the main routes of the moving officers and spending his time looking outside the window at the flashes amidst the many ships of various types, sizes and origin flying around each other and chaotic laser beams. He instinctively ducked when a Protoss fighter suddenly appeared from the rear side of the battlecruiser's bridge – the bridge had no windows to the back – and almost hit the glass with its golden wings. As the colonel was standing up, he heard one of the adjutants report to Ferguson.
'Sir, the Wanderer-class vessel the Hussar is reporting heavy damage! They do not know where it is coming from or what is causing it. Look at their sensors!'
'My god, they are getting fried,' the former vice admiral said and ran to the window. 'Mother mercy.'
Summers hurried to the other side and saw the Hussar, on the human fleet's rightmost position, covered in lightnings. It was as if the power grid of the ship had gone mad and was devouring the whole thing into angry lightning fury. Except that the lightnings seemed to also appear from the air, and had a blue hue. Summers heard a quiet buzz.
'It's like the bloody Aldrin!' one officer remarked.
As he said that, the Hussar burst into flames and disintegrated into a fiery surge of energy. Five seconds later, the sound wave from the explosion hit the hull of the Graf von Moltke and the boom echoed on the bridge, making everybody hold their hands to their ears.
'What the hell caused that?' Arnold tried to find out what happened. Ships didn't just blow up.
'No idea, sir,' the operator at whom he was staring replied in fear.
Outside, the battle was raging. The Protoss, according to the tactical map, seemed to exploit the sudden advantage and pushed harder against the Terrans' right flank. Summers thought about the small chance that out of a sudden the same energy surge would occur on the Andronikos or the Graf, electrocuting everybody on the bridge and melting it down a bit before the vessel exploded.
On the bridge of the Andronikos, a cruel, chilling voice in his head drew the attention of one of the ordinary ghosts.
'Cease fire, humans, and surrender. Then, we may spare your lives.'
'Sir!' the ghost ran to the vice-admiral.
'What is it, soldier?'
'The Protoss! I don't know where it came from, but a voice wanted us to cease fire and surrender. I heard it clearly, I'm sure.'
Ferguson was analyzing. 'Cease fire and surrender... Makes sense. Or we could get another of these explosions... Very well. We are ceasing fire.'
The human batteries unwillingly stopped firing, to which the Protoss responded the same way. Some nervous minutes later, Ferguson asked the ghost, 'What did he say about surrender?'
'Whoever the Protoss was, the orders were to cease fire and surrender,' the troop answered.
'Hmm... Okay. We aren't firing. What was the second thing, again? I forgot.'
'To sur...' he began, but stopped because Ferguson held his index finger to his mouth, almost touching it.
'Not quite, my friend,' the vice-admiral looked at him with eyes wide open. 'Let's wait. They don't seem to mind that.'
***
In the empty room in Savassilar, the three captives heard the noise stop.
'What now?' the ghost asked.
'Why do you keep asking me, I have no idea what's happening out there either. I'm a tactician, not an oracle,' Boris replied. 'I can only hope it's good. Although... What I can tell for sure is that nobody has been conventionally defeated. If either side were, then the explosions would take more time to abate. Something serious has happened out there and it most likely was unexpected. To make the belligerents stop.'
'Like what?' Chester said.
'I don't know – anything!'
'Not much we can do,' Carla said.
The three were standing in the silence. The Umojan was thinking. How could they free themselves? How could three pairs of hands find themselves on the other side of the rope that was keeping them tied to the pillar?
'Boris! I have an idea!'
'What is it?' Paskirov tried to twist so as to hear him better.
'You have that golden eagle on your service hat, right?'
'The cap badge?' he asked.
'Yes. On its front side?'
'Yea, above the visor. What about it?'
'I was thinking, if we could cut the ropes with it. I mean, it is the only metal thing we can use...' Chester tried to be mellow as Boris had yet earned no honors in his several years in the military. 'If you can make it fall between our backs somewhere, we could try to take it off.'
'Right, I see. Alright, then, I hope it works,' Paskirov replied and twisted his head back. 'Give me a hand, er... Head, will you?'
He pushed his hat off against them and it fell down on the rope. The Umojan turned it and, mustering all his agility, began trying to detach the eagle badge from the band. The heraldic wings had point feathers and he tried holding to their edges, which conveniently stuck out, but the badge refused to yield.
'Maybe you should let me do it,' Carla said.
Chester stopped twisting. 'Well, if you think you can.'
Some more movement happened behind Boris when the ghost took her chance with the badge. After some minutes of energetic efforts, she stopped.
'Got it. The nails were useful.'
'Alright, now try to cut the rope,' Boris said, trying not to sound officious.
The noise of the eagle's feathers scratching against the rope was heard until Boris suddenly felt the tension around his hands loosen and the rope began unwinding.
The three stood up, moving their hands, now free from the fetters.
'Phew, it worked,' the Umojan sighed.
'Where do we go now, amdiral?' Carla asked.
'Somewhere away from this settlement, that for sure. Probably to the dropship, where we can get the radio. If the Protoss had not done anything to either,' Paskirov replied. 'Most importantly, as further from the Protoss as possible.'
He picked his hat and put the eagle in his pocket. The three walked to the curtains that hung instead of a door and he carefully peeked from behind them in the corridor. It was clear.
'Come on!'
They rapidly moved to its end, reaching the wide stairs and avoiding the blue walls or any of the lamps on them. They descended the round staircase but, to their surprise there was someone in the corridor in the lower level. It was a robed Protoss carrying scrolls. The alien could only throw a momentary glance at them before Carla jumped at him and thrust her boot in his the plate of his face. The old Protoss fell on the ground unconscious – his purple eyes were barely visible.
'What's with the scrolls...' Chester murmured, but could not contemplate on it for long because the other two moved on.
The group quickly got to the exit of the building and rushed out on the street.
'Everybody be careful now,' Paskirov whispered. 'Stay low and walk close to the walls to avoid detection.'
'Okay, but which way?' the Umojan asked.
'That way,' the admiral pointed away from the enormous golden pyramid several hundred meters away that rose majestically above the chaos of ordinary buildings.
'There!' Carla hissed, pointing at a Protoss figure in the distance, coming from the direction of the pyramid to them.
The three hurried to the darkness between two nearby buildings and headed away from Savassilar's heart through the back streets. They sneaked with utmost silence, wary not to make a sound in the night.
***
Far away from them, the rescue team was moving through the strange low structures in what could be called the suburbs of Savassilar. Taking every possible cover and keeping to the shadows and the bigger objects, like trees or defunct Protoss machinery here and there, they proceeded deeper and deeper into the alien settlement, keeping as hidden from curious eyes as possible. For some mysterious reason the battle had paused and this was the cause of concern in Williams. And meant that the squad no longer had the advantage of the noisy battle drawing the attention away from the streets of Savassilar.
At one point, Williams halted the group. The four armed ghosts were in the shadows of a narrow street between two taller buildings. He waved at them to watch for any enemies and then focused. It was about time.
'Carla. It's Michael. Remember the prison. Where are you?' he thought to whoever could hear in the distance, hoping that the three would figure out what the ghosts were here for.
***
'It's him!' Carla suddenly said, drawing Boris' and Chester's attention.
'Who?' the admiral asked, keeping close to the bluish wall and trying to sound as quiet as possible.
'Major Williams. He's here, with some troops, I guess, to get us out.'
Boris felt a bit relieved. He knew that the fleet wouldn't forget them. Whatever happened to the fleet. 'That's very kind of them. Where is he?'
Carla focused for a few seconds and then replied, 'He says we should go in the direction of our fleet. I told him that we do not yet know where exactly we're located.'
'Hey, can the Protoss hear you two conversing telepathically?' Chester suddenly asked.
Boris looked at him worriedly. 'They might as well can... Alright, guys, let's not waste time here. We'll find an elevation to see where the fleets are and then we'll tell them. Let's go.'
The group kept sneaking through the disorder of the Dark Templar settlement.
Finally, at one point the chaotic maze seemed to end on the slopes of a small hill. Coming up behind the empty dark buildings, the three looked around. Beneath the starry sky, there was Savassilar. The dense multitude of houses provided the background for the several bigger, golden Protoss structures whose bright curved walls proudly contrasted the murkiness around them. The pyramid, of course, rose higher than all, like the resplendent palace from where a cruel tyrant cruelly ruled over his subjects.
Left of the whole city there were lights in the sky several kilometers away. Boris' heart jumped when he began recognizing the shapes of the battlecruisers among the shiny Protoss vessels and the less attractive Terran ones. He tried to focus – all three battlecruisers seemed to be there. But, it could have been a game of lights among the various ships.
'There's the fleets, guys,' Boris began. 'Now, where are we located...'
'No compass,' Carla murmured.
'No need, they can see the pyramid, that's enough. So, if we imagine that the pyramid is north of us, then the azimuth of the ships over there is two hundred twenty-five degrees... In the hypothetical southwest,' Chester thought.
Boris raised an eyebrow. 'We are on a hill, around us there are three of the really lovely golden things and the pyramid and the fleet make an obtuse angle with the vertex where we are. And we're going towards the fleet and the pyramid will be right of and behind us. How's that?'
The scientist shrugged. 'Sure, fine.'
After a brief contemplation, she spoke to Boris. 'They are coming to our hill here.'
'Alright,' he smiled, 'let's find cover and wait, then.'
The three walked down, scanning the buildings for any spot hidden enough for them to be protected from enemy eyes.
As they were moving towards the side of one house, Boris spotted movement in the street further away. Several figures were swiftly moving towards the hill, a few shadows crossing the darkness of the labyrinth around them.
'Protoss!' he whispered.
'Damn! Where to now?' the ghost asked.
'Away from here,' the admiral replied and turned backwards. 'Let's go!'
The three ran as fast as they could from their intended hiding place and to the other side of the hill. As they came out of the buildings, they almost collided with a Protoss. Without hesitation Carla stunned the grey alien and broke its neck. At the other end of the square, Boris looked behind and saw the group of enemies above the body of her victim. The sight of Xentus and Zaraldis accompanied by five bodyguards fed his dread and he found himself running as fast as possible away from them. He stopped when the three had entered the rows of colonnades around one of the golden structures. Its curved forms went over its body, making it look like a pointy shell, and two pillars situated at its rear raised wide plates towards the night sky. The three went around it, trying to keep away from the guards and to possibly find an entrance. At its back side, between the pillars, the curved wall held a runed archway on which a heavy blue curtain was hung to cover the entrance.
Not taking more chances, the three rushed in, calmed the curtain until it was still so that it would not betray their movement, and proceeded in the interior of the building. Under the wavy ceiling there was one great hall like the lobby of a big government building in Tarsonis. Spacious as it was, it housed tens of ornate bookshelves. Under the blue light of glowing crystals from the frugal chandeliers Boris saw the countless scrolls and plates placed on them.
'Is this a library?' Chester uttered.
'No idea... Seems like this is where they keep their scrolls. We're lucky it's empty. We should find somewhere to hide,' Paskirov replied.
The three moved in the central way between the two rows of shelves towards the interior of the archive building. Thirty meters later, the rows were over and the empty remaining part of the hall ended against a wall decorated with tapestries. In the middle of the stony floor there stood a strange engraving exactly counterposed to its mirror image on the ceiling.
Suddenly, Chester's hand took Boris out of his bewilderment and pulled him behind the last shelf.
'They're there!' the scientist whispered.
'What?'
'They just entered.'
Couldn't these damned Protoss just quit? 'The door,' Boris pointed at a small curtain on the nearby wall. 'Moving on.'
The three sneaked through the door, relatively small for a Protoss, and found themselves out in the open again.
'We need a better hiding place. Now!' Carla hissed.
'Those buildings,' Paskirov pointed at a cluster of structures with very few windows fifty meters away. 'We're getting in, whatever's inside.'
Less than a minute later, they were in through the curtain at the round entrance. The interior of the building was very dark and it took Boris some time to get used to the blackness. He walked in, followed by Carla and Chester, and looked at the inside of the vast hall.
They were in a storehouse. Around them there were multiple pieces of Protoss machinery. Golden robotic artifacts and various crystals were placed against the walls, some covered under dark mantles. The humans stepped forward, looking at a suitable place to hide until Williams' squad arrived. Boris wondered how intrigued the Umojans would be when they saw the heavy golden parts, and the massive disk-shaped objects, several meters in diameter, with panels sticking out and many lens, and the...
Jeep?
'What the...' he murmured.
Chester gasped. 'Is that a Confederate jeep?'
'It looks like...' Carla replied quietly.
They walked closer to it. The machine had a punctured front tyre and a missing windshield, but the Confederate flag was still on the hood, with the numbers 523 over it.
'Could have taken it from that old wrecked refinery colony,' the scientist shared.
'Oh, there's the dropship,' Carla said, drawing Boris' attention to an Umojan dropship – their own – whose black paint made it almost invisible in the dark hall. 'They got it, too.'
'Is the radio working? Wait, too late, perhaps,' he said.
'We could still use the supplies in it,' she suggested.
'Yes, come!' Boris hurried to behind the dropship, where the emergency lever for opening the big doors were. 'I think that there are pistols in the thing, we keep them there just in case. Come, guys, this will be noisy if we let it fall on the ground.'
They carefully opened the door and Boris jumped in, only to come out a minute later with a disappointed expression.
'They're gone. All the gear is gone. Taken out. Everything they could remove without pulling too hard.'
'What are we going to do now? Is the radio working? We could contact the major and tell them where we are.' Carla asked.
'Let me see.' Chester went in and returned. 'Nope. Out of order. I could try to fix it, but it would take me a whole day.'
'They will find us before that,' Boris said. 'Does the dropship have any sorts of compartments that are big enough and concealed enough for us to hide in?'
'No. We could hide under those covers and pretend to be a machine...' Chester suggested.
'That's stupid. We will move too much,' Carla argued. 'And, besides, they are likely to uncover everything once they get in.'
'We need something that will repel them for long enough until Williams comes,' Boris said. 'Something that will keep them at bay and give us time.'
'Barricade the exits?' she asked.
'One thing,' he nodded. 'Doctor, perhaps your brilliant mind can think of something that can fulfill our purpose?'
The Umojan looked at them. 'Okay... I'll see what I can do.'
'Right. There's a museum worth of machinery here, you should be fine.'
'I...'
'Keep aliens away, alright?' Boris reminded him.
'Yes...'
'Do it quick,' Carla hissed at him.
'Sure... Thing is, I might need your help later on, though.'
'No problem,' Boris replied.
The admiral and the ghost walked to the machines and began piling up parts just behind the curtain, in order to surprise and obstruct the way of any Protoss who decided to enter. While they were similarly barricading the other exits, Chester was putting together things. Strange things. He had taken the wheel of the still working jeep off and had found some seemingly useless things, like a wide pipe and a long belt. With their help, he quickly took off some of the side panels of the dropship and took out the spherical metal container for some of the sensitive sensors, then stuck something inside of it and placed it above the pipe with a wheel and a belt inside.
'This better be good,' Carla coldly said.
'Just a few more things and it's done,' Chester replied. 'It will basically electrocute anything that draws near the metal sphere.'
'Great. How is that connected to keeping them away, genius?' she was not amused.
The scientist scratched his head. 'Well, if you draw them to it, it will shock them. Badly. It will stun them. What, you have better ideas?'
'Alright, it's good,' Boris intervened and stepped away from the sphere, which stood on improvised legs in the middle of the way. Suddenly, his right foot hit something and a small metal object clanked on the stone floor. 'Ops.'
'I better finish it up,' Chester quickly said and returned to work.
Carla hurried away to the middle of the hall.
Boris was trying to find what to do, when he heard her say aloud, 'Admiral, they're here.'
'Almost done' Chester said from behind his contraption as he started the jeep.
Boris saw the barricades at the entrance they had come through move. The Protoss were pushing them aside. Carla had assumed battle stance, waiting for the first one to come. He looked around, trying to figure out how to help, then ran behind a pile of scrap near the entrance. The last big piece of junk at the door fell aside and the enemies rushed in the room.
Boris pushed the top of the pile towards the door with all his strength. Golden machine parts rolled down towards the Protoss, creating confusion among them.
'Chester! Are you done already?' he shouted while Carla was fighting off one of the Dark Templar.
'Yes! I'm turning it off! Come behind it!'
Boris prepared to retreat, but Carla was too busy with the enemies. He needed to distract them.
He ran twenty meters back to the dropship behind the jeep and rushed inside, then took out the fire extinguisher and ran back, keeping away from the metal ball. She was desperately fighting back when Paskirov unleashed the cold foam against the three Dark Templar that had clustered between two of the stored machines.
'Fall back, sergeant!' he yelled and the two ran back to the Umojan.
'Careful!' he warned them when they got close to the sphere. They walked as far as possible past it and when they were on the other side Chester started the jeep's engine. The wheels of the machine started turning and another wheel connected to the vehicle's front axis followed. It was situated, Boris saw, just under the lower end of the pipe, and there was a belt attached to it that followed.
'Where is Williams...' he nervously uttered.
'Calling him,' Carla said and focused.
The five Dark Templar were slowly approaching the humans.
'Hey, bud, what's about to happen?' Paskirov was uneasy.
'Step back! They're in for a surprise!'
'On their way, admiral,' she informed him and took a few steps away from the Protoss and the round metal ball. He could see the threat in their glowing purple eyes and the black figure of Xentus stepping behind them.
***
Not far from there, Williams had heard the call and was leading the three other men through the streets at maximum speed. They were like the wind, only stopping to take down a sudden Protoss guard with a headshot or to prepare their grappling hooks for an ascent to a roof. They ran on the tops of the buildings, jumping from one to another on their way to the archives and the storehouse.
***
Chester had left the engine running and had joined his friends. The three Protoss were approaching. They drew closer and closer to the strange silvery sphere with their psi blades opened. Boris could see their different, dark purple clothes and their unusual double blades that slightly diverged from the axis of their forearms to form a V.
Suddenly, a loud crack was heard and lightning leaped from the sphere to the closest one. The Protoss fell back from the shock and his blades disappeared while a few small sparks ran through his chest. Then, the two others were struck by the voltage of Chester's contraption and fell helpless on the ground unconscious under the bright lightnings that jumped onto them.
'Right. No point in staying here any more – let's make a run for it! Mike will find us.' Paskirov whispered as if afraid that Xentus, Zaraldis, and the two other Dark Templar could hear them.
The three ran between the other piles of garbage and hurried out of the building through its other exit. On the street, however, there were two guards, looking away.
'Damn!' the sound barely came out of Carla's lips.
Inside the building, the noise of thunder and destruction was heard. The three used it and sneaked to the other side of the building, unnoticed. Carla grabbed her head.
'What is it?' Boris asked.
'That damned Xentus is irritating me. Threats. Let's go.'
The group proceeded away from the storehouse, when they saw a Dark Templar moving in the distance. Boris pulled them behind the nearby corner.
'You can't fight,' he told Carla. 'Tell Williams we're here and let him know that I order him to get his ass here!'
'Done,' she replied after a few seconds.
'Where is he, anyway?'
'There somewhere,' she pointed in the direction of the archive building.
'Good. We're going that way,' Boris concluded and stood up.
They were next to the close golden edifice when Paskirov saw Xentus and his entourage come out of the storehouse and in their direction.
Aren't they ever going to quit? 'Move in! Tell Mike we're looking for cover in this building.'
'Yes, sir,' Carla said tiredly and closed her eyes as she slowly walked in.
They were moving through the many bookshelves, looking for a place to find cover when the Carla suddenly held her head in one hand and pointed in the direction of the open space deeper into the archives.
'They're there.'
'Okay, moving to a different cover,' Boris said quickly and pulled the two to the wall, away from the main aisle and then back to the door.
At the door, however, stood one of the elite, purple-clad Dark Templar.
Chester gulped. 'Maybe we should pull back...'
They found themselves slowly retreating towards the core of the building while the huge digitigrade alien menacingly kept stepping forward under the dim lights on the ceiling that covered the whole place in blue. Once he had cut off their way, the warrior stopped between the last two golden shelves. Boris turned around and on the other side of the strange seal saw the fiery eyes of Xentus and thought to himself what sinister end the cunning chieftain had in store for him tonight. Behind Xentus was the humbled Zaraldis, in a more colorful military uniform that contrasted with his master's black, who was observing the situation. Next to Zaraldis was the other Dark Templar with purple robes and decorated pieces of armor on several parts of his body. Against them was a tired human with officer's education and no weaponry, another tired human with abundant skills in science and lack of will to fight, and a third human of unknown origin or skills but a disdain for the whole race of the high aliens.
'He wants a fight, eh?' Carla habitually informed her commander as she stepped forward. 'Alright.'
Xentus, too, assumed a more predatory stance and leaned forward as he walked onto the seal. He seemed to Paskirov like a compressed spring ready to release its malice and anger straight out of the black clothes and onto who- or whatever stood against him. The Protoss' searing purple eyes were focused on her.
Carla made the first move and jumped towards Xentus in an attempt to kick him off balance, but he twisted aside and with the inertia of the turn kicked her to the wall. Carla fell on her legs, but was struggling to breathe. She stood up with difficulty and crept against Xentus, both halfway between their friends.
The Protoss jumped forward... But stopped shortly after, triggering her reactions. He jerked like that a few more times, provoking Carla to attack, but in vain. Then, out of nothing, Xentus' huge nails on his four-fingered hand flew straight towards the ghost's chest. Carla's reflexes, however, were still sharp, and she diverted his strike and moved past the outer side of his extended hand to deliver a kick in his abdomen. The chieftain stepped back under the sudden blow and a bit of hope made the whole scene a bit brighter for Boris. Carla wasted no time and quickly resumed the attack, fist towards the enemy's head. All eyes in the hall were focused on the duel between the woman and the Protoss. However, the fatigue and Xentus' surprising reactions precluded that blow and he grabbed her arm and threw her aside against one of the shelves. With a thump her body jumped off it and fell next to the golden wall in the distance.
Then, a crack was heard from somewhere and something grey sprayed behind Boris, soaking the back of his uniform. He turned instinctively and saw the now headless body of the Protoss warrior collapse on the smooth stones. At the door, there was Williams with another ghost, apparently having taken down the guard with a headshot. The fear suddenly left Paskirov when Williams and the other ghost ran forwards, aiming at Zaraldis and the elite Dark Templar who stood in the middle of their wall. The ghosts fired their C-10 rifles, but the two Protoss were faster and the warrior had already pushed Zaraldis out of the line of fire when the bullets crashed against the golden walls.
'Come!' Boris ordered Chester and quickly reached Carla. 'Is the pulse fine and everything?'
The Umojan kneeled over the semiconscious ghost and began checking her vital signs. Boris looked at the relatively narrow way between the shelves and the wall and saw a third ghost cross it on his way towards them. He better had first aid, or else...
A loud sound, halfway between a sonic blast and the buzzing of electricity, was heard a few meters away from them and Boris looked aside. A surge of energy had sprung out of Xentus' hands and had hit the fourth ghost that had arrived from the opposite side aisle. The force of Xentus' ability hit the soldier against the curved wall like a hammer against an anvil and the ghost dropped his rifle and fell on the ground.
The ghost two meters from Boris had ducked and aimed his rifle at the Protoss. Out of nowhere the air itself in front of the ghost seemed to burst into blue energy and the stunned man was nailed to the wall by the sheer pressure. Boris himself was almost pushed aside, but struggled not to yield to the blast while the ghost collapsed on the ground.
'Die!' Williams' voice, filled with hate, echoed from behind the nearby shelves and something flew into Xentus' left shoulder as the chieftain was raising his hands for another psi blast. He stepped back behind the furthest shelf and is head twisted in agony as he grabbed a black handle that was sticking out of his shoulder. With a sudden agonizing movement Xentus took out Williams' commando knife, covered in grey blood with some pink strips. The knife fell on the stony floor from the Protoss' open hand and Boris, still leaning over Carla, met Xentus' eyes, which were now so bright that it seemed that they were flames of candles.
'Go, go, go!' Paskirov told Chester and grabbed Carla's shoulders to move her in the aisle and behind the shelf. There was no sight of Zaraldis or the armored Dark Templar. Things were grim. Boris evaluated his chances and concluded that the status was somewhere beneath bad. The Terrans seemed out of the game. He felt like he could not let things end like this, at least with him not giving up a fight.
Xentus, however, had no time for them. Williams had just jumped into the open and had directed his C-10 at random against the Protoss. The chieftain quickly attempted to push the weapon aside, but Williams pressed the trigger too quick and a bullet tore through Xentus' right leg, spraying grey-and-pink drops on the floor behind.
Boris took the opportunity. He hurried between the last two shelves in his row. The admiral quickly and quietly sneaked to the neighboring row on the other side of the room. He would sneak behind the Protoss. It seemed stupid for a second, but there was no other plan available and service had taught Boris of the importance of speed.
'Bleed, you scum!' Williams shouted while thrusting a powerful kick straight into the alien's chest. His teammate, Dallas then jumped onto the side of the seal, next to the major, and ducked to aim the weapon at Xentus. However, the bleeding Protoss was again faster and sent a fierce psionic blast at the two. Williams was suddenly thrown back to the edge of the shelf and his back and his skull absorbed the impact. He fell on the ground where the wide way from the front door ended between the two rows. The other ghost flew back and slid on his back on the rocks until the wall not far from Chester stopped him.
Boris was at the other side of the hall now, preparing to make his move. Knock him... Stupid. With what? He had no metal object that at least looked like a club. For a second he stared at the bookshelf against him, when the realized that there were stone plaques on it. Next to the scrolls. Some of them were rather heavy and bulky.
He grabbed one and took a deep breath. He peeked from behind the corner of the last shelf and saw the lamed Xentus creeping towards Williams' unconscious body. The chieftain was holding to the golden rafts with his available right hand.
Now was the time. Paskirov ran towards the alien with the rock high in the air, but saw that Xentus was too big and threw it at Xentus' head.
The plaque hit him and he tripped next to Williams. Boris saw the ghost's C-10 lying on the ground nearby and grabbed it. He lifted the heavy rifle and stepped next to the dizzy Protoss keeping it aimed at his head.
A second later, the buzz of psi blades was heard behind Boris. Zaraldis and the elite warrior were a few meters away. He looked down at Xentus again, while stepping to his other side, away from the two and from the seal and next to Williams. The chieftain had turned and looked into the admiral's eyes with regret, then looked at his servants, then at the admiral again. You will die if you strike, the Protoss was telling him from the ground.
Paskirov kneeled, carefully pointing the muzzle at Xentus. With his left hand he reached for Williams' pistol, hoping it would be loaded. One round was enough. The executor and his armored companion took a step closer. Boris touched the steel and took the pistol out.
Immediately, the rifle fell on the ground with a clatter and a brief moment later the pistol was aimed at his temple. At Xentus' temple.
Boris was holding the weapon with his right hand and had secured a tight grip of Xentus' throat and head with his left. The Sei'Tara leader had his head locked against Boris' chest with a pistol against it. It was a good idea that had occurred to him at the right time.
'Don't make a move,' Paskirov said aloud, 'or your leader gets it.'
Xentus made some small movements within the admiral's grasp and the two stopped.
'Chester, how is she?' he shouted.
'Better. Sort of conscious,' the Umojan was heard.
'It's time to get out of here. Get her up and get Williams up. We're leaving.'
'Yea.'
Boris was now half-upright, holding his hostage against his thigh, when he heard a scream. Carla rushed to the major who was lying on the ground.
'Sergeant, pick him up and let's get out of here,' he ordered.
'Y-y-yes, sir,' she stuttered.
'Boris, wow,' Chester felt awe, seeing Xentus' position.
'Right. Long story. Pick him up and move out! Carla, you tell these guys that if they don't do what I say, the boss-man will die.'
The four Terrans now retreated to the door of the archives. Zaraldis and the Dark Templar were following from a distance of several meters. Carla and Chester were holding Williams by the shoulders.
The group walked out in the open and breathed the fresh air. Around them, however, there were twenty to thirty Protoss warriors in dark violet and purple in a huge circle. They were watching the Terrans at the gates to the archives building.
'You missed the show...' Boris murmured and hauled Xentus another few meters before figuring out where they had to walk to next.
All of a sudden, Xentus right hand grabbed Boris' right hand and pushed it aside while the Protoss himself twisted away from his grip. The admiral could not restrain the alien's force and found himself pinned to the ground with Xentus' cold analogue of face above him. The sound of many psi blades emerging echoed in the distance. Boris could felt terror beginning to consume him. The chieftain's glowing bright purple eyes looked at the admiral with contempt and a grey four-fingered hand wrapped in black cloth, with huge, if not particularly sharp claws, was raised above Paskirov's head. He took a breath, realizing how strange the hand actually was, with two thumbs on both sides of the wrist. Strange and deadly.
Somewhere away Carla screamed 'Nooo' and Chester shouted 'Boris!' But in vain. This was the end. A glimpse of the consequences of his failure and the disappointment in his family with that, among other things, ran through his head. He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.
Then, something heavy hit Xentus and lifted the burden of the Protoss from his chest. He blinked and looked around, all sweaty, to see what was happening. Zaraldis had leaped on the chieftain and was now struggling with him. Xentus was pushed to the ground and was fiercely trying to fight back his servant's sudden hostility. None of the Dark Templar warriors was moving. The elite one was also just standing there, looking coldly at the mortal struggle between Zaraldis and his master.
Strong as he were, Xentus was weakened now. He could not repel all the blows and soon broke and with a final swing the executor stuck his claws through the throat all the way to the cold stone beneath them. In a bright blue wispy flame, Xentus' body burned away.
It took Boris some time to comprehend what had happened during which he just lay there under the starry sky. Around him there was movement. Carla and Chester appeared and smiled.
'What did I just see?' Paskirov uttered.
'The executor attacked the chieftain and killed him,' the scientist almost laughed.
'Zaraldis realized Xentus' real games tonight. First the fleets, then the blood,' Carla began.
'What about the fleets and the blood? What blood?' the admiral was breathing heavily but felt lighter with every second.
'Well, commander, Xentus had taken his loyal friend here to the engagement. Between our fleet and theirs. Then, Xentus had cast a psi storm against one of our Wanderer-class vessels and destroyed it. Just like he destroyed the Aldrin hours earlier.'
'We've... Lost a ship...' Paskirov looked at the ground in sadness.
'Yep, we did,' Chester said quietly.
'After that, Xentus had to leave the battlefield because he received news of our escape. So, they left to look for us. Xentus had decided to punish us personally while the fleets were standing still. So, they went looking for us. The professor's crazy thing...'
'A Van De Graaf generator,' Chester interrupted her to her slight annoyance.
'...had frightened them at first, but another psi blast in that storehouse did the trick. When we were in the templar archives, we... Michael...' she paused. 'Managed to wound Xentus, and Zaraldis saw his blood. It was not normal Protoss blood, you see, its traces of another organic presence were visible.'
'Right, the pink...' Boris made the connection. 'Zerg?'
'Most likely,' Carla continued. 'That convinced him. Him and Avissian.'
'Who's Avissian?'
'The armored warrior next to Zaraldis, he's the commander of their praetorians, the elite guard of the tribe. So I was told,' Carla shrugged. 'Zaraldis had told Avissian about the exchange earlier in the evening and the warrior already had his reservations when the fighting started. The two were cloaked. When Xentus bled, it became clear. However, they feared his power and were deeply grieved by their leader's betrayal. So, they appeared when you were done with him. When Mr. X escaped you, the two thought all was lost, but Zaraldis was so furious that he quickly intervened and managed to kill the treacherous swine. Funny, Xentus was calling for help from the praetorians most of the time, but Avissian had forbidden them. Good riddance.'
Paskirov was smiling widely. 'Am I glad... To hear this... Ha-ha!' he laughed.
'We won, Boris!' Chester grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently.
'Yes!' the admiral shook the scientist in turn.
Then they looked at Williams.
'Don't worry, he'll be alright,' Boris told her. 'We'll get him to the medics as soon as possible.'
He noticed that Zaraldis and Avissian had come next to them.
'Hello.'
Zaraldis reached down to the admiral.
'You can get up now. He wants to thank you for showing him the truth,' Carla interpreted.
'No problem. Anytime. Just doing my job...'
'We are to come with them now. We are invited to the purge of the Sei'Tara.
'The what?' Chester asked.
'No idea, that's what he said.'
The three were exhausted from the events of the day. Each one was dirty and bruised and Paskirov's hat missed the badge. Yet the curiosity to see the so-called “purge” motivated them to stay up and follow Avissian and the executor.
The purple crowd of Protoss left the vicinity of the templar archives. Williams was handled by the healers until Terran doctors arrived and the elite guard proceeded onward through the streets. On their way they encountered some Protoss guards. Without a word exchanged a few joined. Those who did not were swiftly killed. The elite guards were moving onwards through the main streets as openly as possible, as if on a midnight parade through the desolate streets.
They were heading, Boris soon realized, to the pyramid in the middle. Its size was striking when they reached it. It seemed to Boris to be as high as a thirty-story building and as massive as the smaller orbital platforms he had seen. The most amazing thing about was that it was made of gold. It was surrounded by a golden wall that ran around it like a circle. Within its confines, gardens filled the space to the base of the tall structure. The tired humans stopped in front of the long stairway up the gate. Boris was breathing heavily while looking at it in awe.
'We go up,' Carla pointed at the long stairway on the facade.
'Climb that...' Chester said.
A few seconds later she replied, 'We're not in a hurry here. They have nowhere to hide.'
A while later, Boris, Chester and Carla were all the way up and entered the main gate of the nexus. They followed Zaraldis and the praetorians through the wide, golden corridors, illuminated by torches, and kept looking at the many tapestries that covered them. There were scenes of the tribe's existence, none of which comprehensible for the Terrans, but they were well done and there were even small crystals where the portrayed Zealots' armor really included any.
Zaraldis was leading the column and the three Terrans kept close behind him. Suddenly, he stopped and pushed one of the tapestries aside, revealing an entrance to a big hall and making Chester realize that there actually weren't any visible doors at all. The walls of the small hall were covered with ever more tapestries, some of which bore nothing but glowing runes. The golden floor was covered by several carpets. At the end, there was an empty golden throne but by the walls there were more smaller ones, on which Protoss elders were sitting.
The executor, in war uniform proudly walked in under their surprised eyes. Behind him, Boris followed with all his dignity. This hall was a tranquil place, he thought. The carpets were clean, the figures in it looking senior and haughty in their hoods. What contrast it was for the executor in uniform to enter uninvited and disrupt the peace, followed by no other but a Terran admiral... And the elite guard. That moment it occurred to Paskirov what the purge may actually be.
Zaraldis stopped in the middle of the room. Just behind him were Avissian, on one side, and Boris on the other. The elite Dark Templar were methodically entering the room and nine of them stepped forth and stood each against an elder.
'This is the high council of the Sei'Tara,' Carla whispered in Boris' ear. 'Zaraldis is now telling them of his discovery about Xentus. These guys used to be the chieftain's trusted group...'
'Right. The only thing we're missing is a camera,' he murmured in response and took out his eagle from his pocket and held it up against the other elders.
'And now they will be punished,' Carla was brief. She took a deep breath. Nine psi blades buzzed and hissed into being. Some of the council members were clearly uneasy with the situation and betrayed their nervousness by holding on to their thrones or trying to stand up.
In perfect unison, nine psi blades sank in the robes of the members of the Sei'Tara High Council, then flied upwards from their chests through their heads and in the air. The elders all dissipated in mystic blue flames.
Boris exhaled. 'Wow.' The selected executioners stepped back.
'The evil in our... I mean this, tribe is undone,' Carla interpreted Zaraldis' speech, delivered with his hands raised high. 'Let all traitors know that this is the fate that awaits them and let today's day remain forevermore in the annals of our kin. Order is restored.'
Boris stood there even as Zaraldis stepped aside and most of the elite Dark Templar left the room. He was thinking about the brutal justice and the change of sides and the past of the tribe. There were no pictures in the tapestries here, he noticed. Strange...
'He is sorry for the mistake he made and thanks you for showing him the truth, commander,' Carla took him out of his thoughts. Zaraldis was behind her.
'Right, well, any time. Given the circumstances,' Boris replied.
'All of Xentus' records will be given to the expeditionary fleet.' she paused. 'We can be their guests tonight.'
The admiral gave that thought some consideration. 'Thank you, Zaraldis, but I have business with my fleet. It is time to go.'
The ghost looked at him with dubiousness, then informed the executor.
'Executor, now that we have... Reached a consensus,' Paskirov continued, 'perhaps we can think of disentangling the fleets and deciding how to get rid of the slab?'
Carla came with the answer. 'Time to go to the fleets.'
A Protoss shuttle waited for them outside the pyramid – the “nexus.” It carried them and the executor to the battlefield where the UEF and the Protoss force were facing each other, still caught in their old position of mortal combat. Carla informed the ghosts onboard the Andronikos of the news and the alien shuttle landed in one of the flagship's docking bays. The three were welcomed in an improvised ceremony and, in a gesture of trust, Zaraldis was invited to a meeting of the high command on the next day.
The fleets slowly diverged to everybody's glee. Immediately, scientists and archaeologists got any info that Xentus had been keeping and on the next day results were ready for the meeting.
In the Andronikos' conference room, the Umojan high command, in addition to Zaraldis and his captains, each with an unarmed ghost for translation, listened to a few speeches of reconciliation before the next meeting scheduled two days later when the clever ones of both sides would announce their conclusions on the Sei'Tara archaeological data.
***
Thick clouds had covered the sky on the determined day and in that conference those in charge of the fleets had to endure listening to grim news that confirmed the eerie rumors among the scientists from a day earier.
The slab's location had been discovered by Xentus.
His main research was not kept in Savassilar. It was located in another planet – Gawessa V, which had been attacked by Zerg in the recent weeks. No doubt, on purpose, everybody concluded: he had transferred his notes to the guard of Zerg. Xentus' was threatening the success of the humans even through his legacy of treachery.
The Terrans and the Protoss then decided to make haste for the planet as soon as repairs were done. It took a few days to mend the harm of the battle and at the end, when the Andronikos was leaving the Dark Templar homeworld behind it, Paskirov looked at the dark planet and thought of how fortunate this fleet was. Through wisdom and daring they had somehow managed to survive all these weeks in space, against the Protoss. But now wisdom had made them allies with the Protoss and the two races, united in reason and common goal, were preparing to preclude the Zerg's plans to gain hold of the slab.
As the Sei'Tara planet was moving away, Boris could not avoid fearing the unknown that was still left to face. He was wary of the Zerg that crept somewhere out there, safely confined in their own planets, but still lurking around the places that he and his friends would have to visit. But, of course, on the other hand there were the weapons and the technology. And their intelligence. Logic had already cleared up a great deal of confusion in the Protoss and he was confident in its ability to take everybody out of this mess.

Part 1 Chapter 14: The Surreptitious and the Servile

2011-04-21T23:18:00.003+03:00

2481 C.E.
CARRIER “ENTEOS”
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
HIGH ORBIT OVER PLANET 2472AU02 “ARENA”

After its unexpected victory against the unexpected enemies, the Umojan fleet had affected repairs and had checked the temple up. While the ships had their major dents covered and their most important features restored, the swarms of researchers went through the ancient structure and memorized every little bit of knowledge that it contained for future use in their attempts to find out more about the alien life. Meanwhile, Paskirov had found time to visit his only superior, Admiral McNorman.
Stepping out from the dropship that flew him to the carrier ship Enteos, the vice-admiral looked at the men awaiting him in the busy docking bay. In the midst of the activity, there was a bubble of empty space and in its centre stood the commander of the ship: Commodore Richardson in his black Umojan uniform decorated with gold linings. He saluted Paskirov as he walked forwards, but relaxed in surprise when he saw the large figure of Zaraldis, accompanied by Williams and two other ghosts follow.
'Protocol demands that your immediate subordinates, too, are present when you welcome the chief commander of the fleet when he comes,' Paskirov coldly began.
'The chief commander of this fleet is in the medical center, sir,' Richardson replied, unwilling to conflict him.
As they walked towards the medical section of the carrier, Paskirov asked with a serious tone.
'How has he been recently, commodore?'
Richardson began. 'His condition has been deteriorating, the doctors say. He refuses to eat or drink or talk. There's nothing wrong with his body, though, they inform me that it is all mental. His brain is somehow damaged, which affects his thinking. Yet, they can't find out how. We do keep him alive, of course, but it is not a pretty picture. It is as if his self has abandoned him.'
'Right. Bad news. I'd send him home to Umoja, but we don't have the ships for that. Plus, it could be bad for the men's morale,' the vice-admiral shared as the two were walking through a well-lit corridor with the rest of the group behind them. Zaraldis was inspecting the interior of the strange Terran ship with curiosity, but his demeanor was still focused.
'Have you come to tell him about the victory and the spoils personally?' Richardson inquired, throwing a suspicious glance back at the Protoss executor, who had to bend over in order to not hit the ceiling.
'I actually wanted to see if our friend Zaraldis could tell us anything about the dreadful condition of the admiral, but yes, that could work, too,' Boris smiled. Looking at Richardson's expression of his normal dislike for the aliens, Boris continued. 'I'm sure that the executor could know something about this, commodore. If the archaeologists didn't know, then perhaps he will.'
'I think nothing good will come out of this, sir,' Richardson shared.
'I know you do. But that's because you don't see the full picture,' Paskirov replied. 'Of course, neither does any of us, but, generally, I see more than you... And the admiral sees the most, by virtue of which he is the admiral.'
Very soon, the group reached McNorman's room. Paskirov took a deep breath and entered, followed by the rest. What he saw inside was not pleasing to the eye.
The admiral lay semi-conscious on the bed, looking upwards. Several thin hoses from the life support systems next to the bed were entering his hands or went under the white blanket. The vice-admiral didn't want to know what they were for.
'Sir, it is I, Boris,' he introduced himself. McNorman did not reply. 'Sir, you may have heard that we beat the fleet of the executor Zaraldis... We captured him and his captains.'
McNorman murmured something and Boris quickly bent over him, drawing his ear close to the admiral's face in an effort to hear anything but the admiral made no more sounds. Boris looked in the empty eyes and then turned to Zaraldis.
'The executor is here, admiral, as a proof for this fleet's prowess and a trophy for Umoja. Which you will have the honor of presenting.'
Nonetheless, the sick man on the bed remained ignorant of what was happening around him. Boris was reluctant to touch him and draw his attention like this, in addition to being wary of the unknown effects this could have on the admiral's condition. So, he just summoned the executor.
'Mike, ask our friend if he can tell us anything about what's going on with the admiral here.'
The ghost then focused and after a few seconds' time replied. 'No, commander, he has no clue.'
'Can't he try to read his thoughts or something? Can't you?' Paskirov said.
'Frankly, sir, the admiral's brain is pretty messed up, from what I can tell. His thoughts don't make sense. Not only disorderly, but also utterly pointless,' the ghost began explaining his observations. 'I can suppose that the Protoss sees approximately the same thing.'
Paskirov caught Richardson's skeptical sight and felt discouraged with the development of the events.
'Sir, you are wasting your time,' the commodore said.
This was a mistake.
'Commodore, so far your criticism has been as fruitless as it has been unjustified!' Paskirov raised his voice. Richardson's prejudice and ignorance had been standing in the way for too long now and it was time they were punished. 'In no normal fleet can a man of your position act like this with impunity...'
'Vice-admiral,' Richardson cut him off, accenting on the first word, 'your actions are no less mindless and lacking in reason, and if the admiral here was in consciousness, he would surely disapprove of your absurd ideas about the Protoss enemy...'
The ghosts looked at the two men arguing, but stood perfectly still.
'Commodore,' Boris seized the dialogue from him, 'I can guarantee you that if the admiral was conscious he would gladly approve of my attitude towards the Protoss and would endorse it, seeing the reason behind it. However, you, in your naivety, do not. You only bar the progress that this expeditionary fleet is trying to do in the relations between our race and that of the Protoss. Ever since...' Richardson began saying something, but Paskirov raised his hand to stop him, 'our first encounters with them have you systematically failed to see beyond your hatred. This is why I am considering you unfit for your position.'
Richardson could not believe what he was hearing.
'As of now, you are no longer in charge of the Enteos. You are demoted into the captain of the Wanderer-class ship “Hailstone.” It's current captain, Archer, a man of great merit and loyalty will get a chance to prove himself in command of this ship. Feel free to give in your uniform and leave to your new post as of now,' Paskirov cruelly finished his dreadful strike on the ex-commodore.
Richardson was just standing there, petrified.
'Admiral, can you not hear what is happening here? Can you not see where this Confederate is taking our fleet to?' he bemoaned what he was seeing. But he knew that the admiral was deaf and blind for the fate of his subordinates.
'He can't,' Paskirov remarked coldly. 'I suggest you do not waste much more time. We are leaving tomorrow and Commodore Archer will need time to inspect his new ship.'
Richardson only looked for a moment at the vice-admiral with hatred and disdain, then grabbed his service hat and threw it on the ground in front of Paskirov. Then, he left.
For a while, nobody said anything. Everybody was standing still, except for Zaraldis, who looked aside a couple of times, not caring of the people around him. Only the pings of the hospital apparatuses were heard.
'Don't you think that you are being a little too hard on him, Black One?' Williams interrupted the silence.
'I need to keep things in order, Mike. He was not standing in line. He had to be punished,' Boris remarked.
'I hope you know what you're doing, then,' the ghost said.
'Better than anyone else...' he answered pensively.
A second later, Boris leaned forward and raised the hat lying on the ground. 'Our job here is done. Let's return to the Andronikos.'
***
In the evening, the sun was setting behind the curved horizon of the planet, now nicknamed “Arena 3” by the Umojan astronomers. Boris was done with the paperwork concerning the switch of positions between Archer and Richardson, as well as the change in rank of some other officers. Then, while he was dining, urgent news came – something was wrong with McNorman.
Hearing this, he immediately left the table and hurried for the Enteos. Aboard it, Paskirov and Archer quickly entered the admiral's room in the medical sector. There were medics gathered around his bed, in addition to some new pieces of equipment.
'I am the vice-admiral. What is going on here?' Paskirov said loudly to the medics.
One of them turned to him with a sorrowful look. 'Sir, the admiral is bad. His vital signs... He is struggling to make it.'
'What's wrong?' Archer seemed frightened.
'His body's functions have been scrambled. The brain is not sending signals to his organs as it should. He is breaking up. We are trying to keep him going, but...'
'You can't?' Paskirov quickly asked, then regretted saying it.
'Well, yes. His cardiac muscle is struggling. We do not know what is going to happen now,' the doctor's face was serious beneath the surgical mask.
'I see,' the vice-admiral said quietly. 'Keep me in touch.'
A few minutes later, he was outside the medical sector, thinking what to do next. His work for the day was pretty much done, so he decided to at least finish his dinner.
'Commodore, I'll need to use your accommodation while I'm waiting for updates on the situation.'
'Of course, sir. After me.'
Fifteen minutes later, Paskirov was eating something again, when he got a message that killed the remainder of his appetite and took away all the taste of the food in his mouth. McNorman had died.
Again, he stood up and hurried to the room McNorman was in. As he entered, the remaining medics looked at him. He got to the bed. In it, there was the pale body of the admiral, still and not breathing.
'We called you when it happened. We could not restore the heart's functions, despite for our best efforts. He is dead.'
Boris felt great sorrow. The best – and only decent – superior he had had in his whole life was now dead. Fortune had just taken him away, for some reasons that Boris could not comprehend. Tomorrow would be a day of mourning and rest. He would order a break for everyone and maybe some gifts for the Protoss as a sign that the humans do not regard them outside their worries and living against the universe. After all, their friendship was necessary.
He wondered what would be best to give to the aliens. Then, he realized something strange. He realized that he could give them anything he wanted. From the common soldier's pistol to a computer, or even the sphere, anything was fine. There was nobody he had to comply with now, nobody to object to that. He was the admiral now. He was alone, and the thought of the freedom he now possessed seemed to fend off the grief for the deceased. The only thing he had to be wary of now was the enemy – the malevolent Zerg and the mad Xentus.
'Preserve the body. We will send him away these days,' the new admiral ordered. 'You've done well.'
The medic smiled. 'Thank you, sir.'
Paskirov walked away, towards the docking bay. On the way there, he waited for dinner time to end and sent a message to the command of the Andronikos to tell the whole fleet that McNorman had died and that everybody was taking a day-off tomorrow.
***
Later that evening, he was ignoring the timid congratulations on becoming the new admiral and the small ceremonial gestured that the officers were doing by protocol. He immediately went on to do some more changes regarding the changes in the fleet that resulted. He was the new admiral, so he now needed a vice-admiral. Ferguson would be that man. His qualities made him just the man for the job. Summers was to be the commander of all the ground forces. Arnold – the original vice-admiral – was given the Graf von Moltke as a sign of goodwill, which he accepted. Richardson, however, would stay where he was. He deserved his punishment.
Then, at late night, Boris was done with everything and sat back in his chair. He looked around in his room. The turtle was still there, and the photo of his girl was still there, and he wondered what did McNorman's room contain. He stood up and prepared to pay it a visit. As an admiral, there could be no secrets for him regarding the fleet.
When he turned on the lights in McNorman's cabin, he saw the former admiral's ascetic room. It contained only several basic pieces of furniture and almost no decorations. There was a photo of McNorman's family, some other books and objects of sentimental value, plus his wristwatch lying on the nightstand.
Boris sat on the bed and took the watch. Its sleek and efficient Umojan design grabbed his eye, but he put it down, determined to limit himself to just looking. He began going through all the chests and the drawers, seeing the former admiral's clothes, medicine, and small inventory of useful items. Finally, Boris got to the nightstand. Hastily opening its only drawer, he was not prepared for what he saw inside.
Placed on top of some letters and minor objects was what seemed to be a golden pendant. The next moment, he gasped, realizing it was just half a golden pendant with blue crystals encrusted in its heavy surface. He picked it up against the light and took a closer look. The ends of the half pendant had dents and seemed to had faced a really hard object. Then, he remembered and almost dropped it on the pillow.
This pendant looked the exact same way as the one that he had given the separatists. Its decorations matched the little signs on the surface of the artifact he had personally given Sealeris, and yet, it looked a bit different. It was like a mirror image of the previous thing. It was its other half.
What, in Death's name, is this doing here? he thought.
The other half of the Pendant of Namdur that the fleet had unearthed was here, in McNorman's drawer all the time. How did it come here? Where did anybody find the other half and how could he, the vice-admiral, not hear about it? And why did the admiral not tell anybody? This wasn't making sense. Unless...
Paskirov quickly called Williams. Something did not fit here and the ghost could know what it was.
'You called, Black One,' the ghost said casually when he entered the room. His mild demeanor evaporated when he saw the pendant in Paskirov's hands.
'Mike, when we were looking for the pendant down on Grenafar,' he raised the severed artifact, 'who was it that found this?'
'You know the records, admiral, it was me and four marines.'
'I'll get to the point. Did you find anything else other than that half a pendant we gave the separatists in exchange for the sphere?' Paskirov looked at the major with piercing eyes.
Williams knew that it would be pointless to keep the secret any longer. 'Y-yes, I did.'
'What was that object?'
'This thing in your hands.'
'So what we have here and what we gave Sealeris are actually the two parts of Namdur's pendant?'
'Yes, they are.'
'Then why the hell did nobody tell me this was kept here?' Boris shouted.
'Sir,' Williams began confessing, 'the previous admiral ordered me to stay quiet regarding this other half. He insisted on keeping it for the Umojans. Only me and the four other marines knew about its existence.'
'Right. Great. We should have given the full thing to those separatists, who knows what it looked like. I wonder who would have desecrated this in the tomb.'
'Actually, we did not find the pendant in this condition.'
'What?'
Williams took a deep breath. 'When we opened the lid of the sarcophagus, the pendant was in one piece. I cut it.'
'You did what?' the admiral found it hard to believe.
'Yes. With my rifle. I presume that if we put the two halves together, the marks of the bullets will be clearly visible.'
Boris was just looking at the steel wall, comprehending the information.
'Alright,' he said after some thinking. 'Keep the secret. None of the Protoss are to know about this, alright? Absolutely none of them. Otherwise they will leave our side. And I don't want neutral Dark Templar on my ships.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And I want to know who the other four marines are. Wait, probably they're in McNorman's reports somewhere. Anyway. And if the Protoss do find out about this, tell them that it was McNorman's orders.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And stop calling me “sir,” Mike,' Paskirov said. 'I'm not that special.'
'As of now, Black One, you are the most special man in this fleet of ours. The most important, at least.'
'Right. Well – I'd rather not be reminded. I wonder what would happen when Zaraldis learns of this pendant...' Boris began, but then almost jumped from the bed. 'That's it!'
Williams was not getting it. 'That's what?'
'I know how to find out if Xentus is really with the Zerg!'
'Oh, the Sei'Tara,' Williams murmured, then decided to show some attention. 'How?'
'Simple. And, if it doesn't work, I will at least ditch this worthless thing somewhere where it can't be reclaimed. Right. Basically, we will find a planet that reeks of Zerg and we will give them this artifact. Then, we will go to the executor's homeworld and call for Xentus. When he comes, we will propose an exchange – Zaraldis for the pendant. The Sei'Tara are currently unarmed and I bet the Zerg are beating them badly. Therefore, Xentus will want to cooperate and will get the pendant and give it to us. And when he does, Zaraldis will be there to see how his master had effortlessly taken the artifact from the Zerg. He, of course, will have seen us giving it to the Zerg and all,' Paskirov explained with a wide smile.
'I see. What about the Dark Templar, are they not going to find out of the existence of this second half of the pendant?' the ghost asked.
'You have a point there... It would be hard to keep it away from them. Maybe if I move all them away from the Andronikos and instead keep Zaraldis here... I could fly with her to a place like Grenafar and back to the fleet without the Dark Templar knowing anything about the pendant. Hmm, plus, I will not have Dark Templar guards when I'm giving the pendant.'
'You will have a science vessel and troops, I suppose?'
'Yes, surely. That would do. That would do just perfectly. Mike, I love it when a plan comes together!'
'I'm sure,' the ghost spoke in his usual impersonal tone.
***
The next day was a day-off for the whole fleet and the men took a one-day vacation from all the peripeties they had been facing in unknown space. In the evening, Paskirov was officially proclaimed admiral in a small ceremony aboard the flagship and a few days later, when the fleet was done on Arena 3, McNorman's coffin was released in space according to the Umojan ceremonial protocol.
During those days, Paskirov was trying to find out from Zaraldis where the Sei'Tara homeworld was really located. At first, he didn't succeed, but after he revealed to the Protoss that he intended to help the tribe in his own, human way, the executor yielded and told the Umojans where the homeworld was located in exchange for Paskirov's promise that the expeditionary fleet would fight the Zerg.
Once that was done, Boris ordered the fleet to wait in orbit around Arena 4.
'I will take the Andronikos to a secret location for a couple of days. Then I will return to you. In the meantime, vice-admiral Ferguson is in command.'
There were no questions from anybody not serving aboard the flagship.
The Umojan Expeditionary Fleet was left in orbit while the Andronikos prepared to go to Grenafar and perform the first moves of the new admiral's plan to unveil the mystery around the strange leader of the Sei'Tara. Aboard the battlecruiser were no Dark Templar, as planned. Paskirov had explained them that he wanted to give Zaraldis some rest and privacy, so they all went away. The only individuals to witness the experiment Paskirov was performing were him, Zaraldis, Williams, Chester, who was told about the second half of the pendant, Carla, about whom the admiral insisted to participate in the negotiations, and the personnel of the Andronikos.
The huge ship approached the familiar planet. It looked the same way as when they had left it, with all the Zerg in one huge red and purple strip where the planet could offer any tolerable conditions. The humans entered the atmosphere and from four kilometers above the ground, a tiny dropship left one of the docking bays. The golden eagle on its hull glistened under the setting sun as it set course to the surface.
In it were the admiral, the faithful interpreter ghost Williams, and the executor. Boris was wearing a scientist's field gear and was keeping the pendant in a box, hidden from Zaraldis, just to keep the suspense. In it there was also a small pressurized container of Zerg pheromones. Prepared under great secrecy, they would attract any passing Zerg, so Boris was prepared to release them on the artifact and in the air around it in order to get the attention of the aliens.
When the shuttle approached the snowy rocks where Boris was planning to throw the pendant, he revealed it to Zaraldis. The Protoss was shocked.
'Behold, executor, half of the pendant of Namdur. You seem to recognize it?'
'He does, and he wonders why it is severed,' Williams slowly interpreted, keeping his own thoughts to himself. 'He thinks that this is why he thought there was another ghost in the dropship.'
'Right. Well, that's how we found it. The point is, pay attention what will happen to it.'
Then, the huge door opened and Boris, secured to the dropship by a rope, walked to the edge and sprayed it with the pheromones. The chilling winds that blew above the snowy fields outside rushed into the cargo compartment. Then, the dropship accelerated towards the rocks not far from a Zerg colony and when it was at the minimum safe distance Boris dropped the artifact. As he was holding it, he just opened his hand and let it fall a hundred meters down amid the snowy rocks. Zaraldis briskly moved in his seat seeing this, then sat back, looking wildly at the admiral.
'He is suprised with what you did,' Williams said, slightly smiling.
Boris, who was emptying the pheromones in the air behind the inbound dropship turned at the Protoss.
'Don't worry, executor. You may see it again sooner than you expect.' Then he added, 'Although I'd rather you couldn't.'
As they were leaving, he spotted Zerg approaching the location of the pendant through his binoculars. They hesitated for a while, then headed back to the colony with great speed. They had gotten the artifact.
The vessel returned to the Andronikos and the Andronikos made a warp jump back to the fleet.
'What is his homeworld called, anyway?' Paskirov asked Williams as they were walking into the docking bay.
'He refuses to say, sir. It is a bad omen if anybody outside the tribe finds out the name,' the ghost replied.
Stupid superstitions, the admiral frowned, only standing in the way. Even the way more reasonable separatists were abiding by this archaic tradition. Regardless, the scientists had already designated it as 2481ST04, after the year it was discovered, the name of the Dark Templar, and its position from the central star.
'All ships prepare for a warp jump to these coordinates,' the admiral ordered the fleet once he assumed his position at the bridge. 'It is time to do some talks, gentlemen, the results of which will prove significant for the outcome of our mission.'
***
2481 C.E.
BATTLECRUISER “ANDRONIKOS”
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
HIGH ORBIT OVER 2481ST04
A.K.A. SEI'TARA HOMEWORLD

According to the separatists' reports, the Sei'Tara, as remarkably armed as they were for Dark Templar, did not have more than one or two more carriers down on the surface. Some officers would want to attack the Protoss, Paskirov knew, but that was under the old regime. Things have changed now.
According to plans, the expeditionary fleet, along with the Protoss vessels, would stay in high orbit for as long as the negotiations with the Sei'Tara lasted. The alien commanders were taken to the Graf von Moltke as a safety precaution since the Protoss found it offending for humans to set foot on their ships. Furthermore, the humans themselves could keep an eye on their command if the Protoss were their guests. Because “hostages” would sound pernicious to the friendly relations between the races.
When everybody was set, the Andronikos and the science vessel Aldrin left the fleet and headed to the green and blue surface of the Sei'Tara homeworld. On the bridge, Zaraldis was revealing the excitement of seeing his home planet again. Boris was looking at the strange dark blue surface covered in jungles. Perfect for Dark Templar, he thought. Somewhere down there was Xentus himself, waiting to see the bold Umojans who had stolen his commander and his armies from him. He would, soon enough.
The two-ship task unit flew into the atmosphere of the nameless planet, heading to the designated coordinates where the Sei'Tara main city, Savassilar was located. Flying over dense jungles and wide pale blue plains in the planet's temperate zone, the Andronikos and the Aldrin found the settlement in a plateau on a vast mountain range. Around the plateau there were some smaller terraces overlooking the jungles in the valley in the south.
'There's your city, Zaraldis,' the admiral pointed at the lights in the setting twilight. 'There we shall all find truth.'
The battlecruiser stopped three kilometers from it, sent a message to the rest of the fleet to maintain a low geostationary orbit over a coordinate fifty kilometers away, then released a single dropship with one of Williams' ghosts in it to summon the Protoss' leader.
'Tell them that he is to come to where our battlecruiser is located. If he wants his army back,' Paskirov told the ghost to say.
When the soldier returned, he reported a confirmation and the admiral, Williams, Zaraldis, and several guards flew into the night. Down on the flat stone terrace where the meeting was to take place the Sei'Tara delegation had already arrived. The dropship touched the hard ground and, walking out of its cargo compartment, Paskirov took a deep breath and looked out. The science vessel was hovering in the air in the distance behind them, scanning the scene for anything visible and invisible and sending the marines updates. The ground was one spacious smooth white rock and a hundred meters away in the distance there were the Protoss.
There were six of them, tall and formidable despite for their bent stance. Their purple eyes were glowing in the night while they approached the Terrans. Paskirov, standing in front of Williams, Zaraldis, and the guards felt the walking towards the approaching robed aliens intimidating, but remembered who had the hostages and relaxed. The first Protoss of their group caught the eye. His robes were not as disorderly and black as those of the rest of the group, but pale white and covered in bright blue runes. Is that Xentus? he thought.
As he drew closer, Zaraldis kneeled down and faced the ground. Paskirov could see the bright eyes, the golden diadem and bracelets, as well as the strange lack of grace in his movements. The admiral boldly stood up against the alien when it drew closer, keeping dignity and taking a chance to vex him.
After the leading alien stopped several meters from the admiral, Williams coldly interpreted. 'He is Xentus, chieftain of the Sei'Tara tribe, and he wants to know who we are.'
So, this was the Protoss whose blind pursuit of power risked so much. Their kin is impressive. 'I am Admiral Paskirov of Umoja and that in the distance is the flagship of the Umojan Expeditionary Fleet I am in charge of. I am here to demand ransom for the executor I captured in battle.'
Boris saw that Xentus was actually younger than Zaraldis when the chieftain heard the bold statement that his commander was captured in an engagement. Williams stood silent while thinking all that was said and replied.
'Xentus...' the ghost smiled,' is pissed and wants to know what do we want in exchange.'
'In exchange, Xentus, I want the pendant of Namdur. Why I want it is my business. How you will get it is yours. I want it here three days from now. Or your executor is taken with us on Umoja. Along with the rest of your fleet,' Paskirov boldly presented the Terran demands.
There was a wave of disturbance among the Protoss when they heard this. Something unheard of must had just happened in their history for the first time, he suspected with self-satisfaction. They had met their civilized superiors.
'Don't you think anything to him, or I will personally pull the trigger,' Williams telepathically reminded Zaraldis, who had stood up, but still dared not look at his chieftain in the face.
'We find your conditions acceptable, Umojan human. You will have what you desire,' the ghost heard Xentus' sharp thoughts echo through his head. 'Then, you will give us back all our ships and warriors that you have captured.'
'He agrees and wants to receive all his force in exchange for the pendant, admiral,' Williams told Paskirov.
'Right. I am happy to hear that. It is agreed,' Boris said, wondering how the hell would Xentus get to Grenafar's colonies and back with the pendant.
The two delegations left the field after the quick talks and the task unit returned to the fleet. Three days.
***
The next day, Paskirov had summoned his vice-admiral to the Andronikos and called a meeting of the ships' officers.
'Getlemen, you will need to know this in case something happens while I am down there,' he began and told them his plans for everything that had and that was about to happen.
'That definitely is a bold suggestion, admiral,' Ferguson commented.
'Yes, are you sure that Xentus is capable of obtaining the pendant in the first place?' Bracknell spoke from the table.
'We have put the Protoss in a situation where he will show his true colors. If he is not with the Zerg, he will come empty-handed. And we will not give back his ships. We will keep them and, hopefully, manage to make at least the Sei'Tara army hear what they are really fighting for. If he is... Then his own executor will see this. The head of his army will realize that his master was always with the Zerg and will join us voluntarily, because he will see what Xentus stands for. Either way, we win.'
'What if Xentus uses some sort of trick to get the pendant from the Zerg without fighting them?' Ferguson asked.
'That,' Boris began, 'is a good question. We cannot know. But even if he does, there should be no way for Zaraldis to know. Which will mean that Zaraldis will still believe that his master has sided with the Zerg. Which will make him turn away from a madman and towards us anyway.'
He looked around at the men. 'Also, I think I will teach Xentus some tolerance. I will have Carla interpret for me instead of the major when I'm getting my pendant back down there.'
Williams was about so say something when Boris quickly interrupted him. 'Now, now, major, there's no need to worry. The science vessel is there and the guards are there and even this ship will be close to us, so it is all under control down there.'
'I did not mean to talk about the safety of the sergeant, admiral,' Williams clarified, 'I wanted to question whether this would not create unnecessary tensions between us, Terrans, and the Protoss. Due to the conservative nature of their beliefs.'
'A good remark, major, but I think your reservations are groundless. I will use her to negotiate with Xentus, not Zaraldis. Xentus is the one most likely to not listen to our hard reason, so to his stubbornness, we will respond with stubbornness of our own. And, besides, dogmas are bad for them, right?'
The people in the room nodded.
'Right. All that's left to do, then, is to wait.'
***
When the time was up, the Andronikos left the fleet and headed for the neutral ground. The sun had not yet set and the dropship, accompanied by the science vessel Aldrin were at their positions. The Terran delegation – Paskirov, Carla, Bracknell and Chester, who had insisted on coming, as well as Zaraldis and the guards – were on their side of the center, waiting for the coming Protoss.
'Look carefully, executor,' Paskirov said, smiling. 'You may be surprised by what you will see.'
Xentus was coming, but this time there were different Protoss around him. About ten unarmed, well-dressed aliens, with clean, ornate dark blue robes and golden jewelry. Xentus himself was wearing completely black clothing, which made it hard to see the outline of his body against the cloak except for his uncovered eyes.
When the other delegation was a few meters away, Carla shrugged and frowned in anger.
'What is it?' Boris inquired.
'He laughed at me being a female and asks how stupid must we be to insult them by having me for interpreter,' she was vexed.
'Bah, ignore him,' he placated her. 'He will go down soon. Xentus, greetings! We have our part of the deal. Your warlord is here and your force is ready to go home. Have you fulfilled yours?'
Xentus put his grey hand into unknown pockets in his strange robes and took out the golden Pendant of Namdur. The exact same half that Boris had thrown to the Zerg on Grenafar. The Protoss raised in the air in front of Paskirov and waited, fixing his bright purple eyes on the admiral.
Paskirov's pupils dilated. Three days. There and back, alive. So it was true... Xentus really was, all this time, working with, he could not imagine it, working with the Zerg. The very chieftain of the Sei'Tara... Well, the implications could wait.
'You see, Zaraldis,' he turned to the executor who was still kneeling on the ground, humbled in front of his superior, 'your chieftain has the pendant. Your chieftain took the pendant from the colonies down there. How else, now, do you think this can happen unless he has sided with them?'
Carla interpreted and looked at Paskirov in fear. 'He's not replying.'
That wasn't going according to plan. Behind him, the men were growing nervous.
'Zaraldis, look!' he reached for the shoulder of the executor, but the Protoss began standing up.
'His master is calling him...' she said what she was hearing.
'But... Zaraldis, look at that!' Boris almost shouted at the executor who was walking away. His guards dared not open fire.
Boris saw the extended hand with the half of the pendant in front of him and involuntarily took it.
'Chester, call the dropship and tell them to tell the fleet to keep their eyes open for strange activity on the carriers. Something is going wrong...' he could not finish his orders because Carla interrupted him.
'Foolish humans. Who are you to stand in the way of the plans of the Sei'Tara. Wow,' she could not help exclaiming. 'Your blasphemous defiance and slanderous demands have been tolerated by our kinsmen for long enough. Now, your arrogant intrusion into our land will come to an end!'
Boris checked behind him to see if the guards and the science vessel were okay, then preserved his haughy attitude. 'Right. Listen up, Protoss, I do not care how you see the world or anything, as long as you can see it accurately enough for us both to communicate. Your blind zeal will only lead you to disaster, because you do not see the reason behind others' warnings, and that shouldn't be – and, in fact, isn't much of – my problem, but...'
Boris was just observing the calm, emotionless expression on Xentus' face while talking, when loud electric cracks and the sound of thunder from behind grabbed his attention at the same time when the chieftain quickly raised his hands to his grey temples. The admiral instinctively turned around, only to see the Aldrin devoured by bright hissing lightnings that materialized around it and jumped onto its hull. The science vessel exploded with a loud bang, illuminating the nearby area with the flames. Paskirov, along with all the humans, instinctively ducked, then grabbed the pendant and looked around, trying to overcome the shock and figure out what to do.
'He's saying!' Carla began. 'He's saying that you could never defy Zaraldis' loyalty or manipulate the Sei'Tara like you tried to do. He played your game on purpose so that he could show you the futility of your attempts to tell Zaraldis what to do. Now, witness your paltry machinations crumble against the might of Xentus, oh, dear!'
'That's definitely not good, Carla. Everybody prepare to get back to the dropship! The negotiations...' Boris began, but stopped short, looking at another object that Xentus had taken out of his robes. It was a golden band of some sort, with a couple of crystals in it... It was the first half of Namdur's pendant.
'Oh... my... god...' Chester was walking back, fearing what he saw.
'Go! To the fleet! Tell the Andronikos to get over here!' somebody shouted, expressing the general opinion.
Xentus mockingly threw the first half of Namdur's pendant at Paskirov, but the admiral did not bother taking it. He was running with the others back to the dropship.
Then, all of a sudden, something invisible pierced the visor of the marine next to him and blood covered the inside of the shattered glass bowl. In front of him, another marine opened fire at something moving in between the Terrans and their transport, but the invisible hand of a cloaked Dark Templar stuck a psi blade in his chest and he fell dead on the ground. All around them, the empty forms of cloaked Protoss were appearing, surrounding the Terran delegation.
'I hear him,' Carla was frightened. 'There is nowhere to go... He invites us to surrender.' Then, she jumped aside to avoid tripping over Bracknell's bleeding corpse.
Boris quickly examined the situation. There were encircled by Dark Templar. The Andronikos was still in the distance, but was preparing to leave for the other ships. Probably Ferguson had seen what had happened to the Aldrin and had decided to get to the fleet and use the captured enemy carriers to make a trade with the tribe or something. Out of the dropship, two shadows moved into the open. The situation had gotten out of control.
'I think we should surrender,' Paskirov said slowly, looking at the last guard getting stabbed and falling on the ground.
'Yea, surrender,' Chester quickly uttered.
The humans raised their hands in the air and the Dark Templar around them became visible. The circle of hostile glowing Protoss eyes was broken by Xentus stepping in.
'He says now we are going to be taken to Savassilar,' Carla said. 'Where we will be executed.'
'Tell Zaraldis to listen to reason!' the admiral urged her, hoping it would help.
'I can't, he is not responding!' she looked at Zaraldis, who was walking away.
'I guess you didn't anticipate the possibility of the executor being stupid, Boris,' Chester caustically remarked.
'But... He is a Protoss! What kind of an alien that is so intelligent cannot understand such simple logic!' Paskirov exclaimed while turning in the direction of Savassilar. He sighed and looked at the ground. 'I hope that the folks on the ships come up with something to get us out of here.'

Part 1 Chapter 13: Beneath The Storm

2011-04-21T23:18:00.002+03:00

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.'

Part 1 Chapter 12: Backyard

2011-04-21T23:18:00.001+03:00

2481 C.E.
BATTLECRUISER “ANDRONIKOS”
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
HIGH ORBIT OVER PLANET 2473NO05

'So, your sages tell me that there are, indeed, no more systems in this part of the galaxy that match the orrery?' Boris looked down at the planet while the ghost nearby was translating his message to Adelnur.
The huge shadowy Protoss turned his head from beneath the huge dark shawl that fell on his upper body towards Boris.
'That is true, to the best of our knowledge,' the young ghost interpreted.
'Are you looking forward to fighting?' the vice-admiral looked at the alien questioningly
'Constantly ready to serve you, as my oath requires from me.'
'Have you fought the Sei'Tara before, Adelnur?'
The Protoss gazed through the windows of the bridge into the scarred reddish surface of the planet they were approaching.
'Yes, several times when their troops were on our planet. Their ships were of no use to them when they had to cross the jungles.'
Boris was also gazing at the planet pensively. 'It is likely you will face them again soon. This fleet cannot evade them forever.'
'I will do what I must on land. Your judgement will be our guide when the ships meet.' Boris thought how much emotion did the even tone of the ghost fail to convey and how much information was lost on the way.
'Excuse me, things have arisen,' Boris told the dark templar, seeing Bracknell entering.
He walked to the brown-haired man to see what was going on with the admiral.
'McNorman is bad, sir. The doctors report that his unusual acting is like nothing they have seen before. He wants you to see him.' The report lacked much enthusiasm and Bracknell occasionally threw suspicious looks at the three-meter tall Protoss down the bridge.
'On my way,' Boris said and noticed the aide's anxiety. 'Come.'
They walked to the medical area, where McNorman was laying in one of the white beds, with a perfectly healthy look. However, Boris saw, this was broken by the admiral's empty gaze upwards to the ceiling and his eerie twitches. When the two were next to him, he looked at his second-in-command.
'Boris...' he smiled for a second and returned to neutral again, 'how is the fleet? The Protoss? The sphere?'
'The ships and the men are fine, sir. As are the Protoss. I am watching over everything now, until you are better,' Paskirov assumed a tone of formality, hoping that it would help keep the dialogue sane.
'Hehe, good, good job,' the admiral smiled again, this time for long. 'How is my wife?'
'Sir,' Paskirov threw a glance of doubt at Bracknell, 'she is not in the fleet. We did not take her with us.'
'Tell her I'm fine, then. Yep. Hahaha,' he began to laugh. Boris would laugh, too, if he wasn't talking to a madman. He waited for an order.
'Hehe, ahem. Well, what do you know, we all look in the tea sooner or later. Tell my nephew to hoard the dogs and remind the cabin not to roll in the conference room... Like those hateful Protoss. They will not end well, know my word,' McNorman seemed to succumb deeper into madness. He then started crying aloud, to the concealed horror of Boris.
'Right...' he murmured, weighting in his mind the chances this fleet stood with a person like McNorman onboard. He whispered to Bracknell 'Call the medics, they'll know what to do. I'm going to my post.'
On the bridge, there was activity as the fleet was entering the atmosphere of the planet. Boris began coordinating the ships when an aide came with news.
'Sir, the Protoss want to meet you when possible.'
What could that be? 'Tell them that I will be with them when we get to the first measurement location,' he replied.
Shortly, when the fleet assumed its course, a Dark Templar archaeologist entered the conference room, not far from the bridge, accompanied by a ghost. Paskirov was sitting in one of the chairs, but the alien, in his wide ragged robes, stood upright.
'I'm listening.'
The soldier began. 'According to our maps, this is the same system where we once saw your kinsmen on the surface of a planet further away from the star. They had buildings and fortifications and were working with vespene gas. We observed them and there were almost no ships coming here.'
'You saw other Terrans here, in this system?' the vice-admiral was intrigued. 'How long ago?'
'Fifty of our days on our planet.'
Boris did the math. About three months ago.
'Thank you for telling me this. It may come very useful. To our cause. You can leave if you wish and have nothing more to say.'
'As you command,' the ghost interpreted and glanced the leaving Protoss.
Boris stood up and went to the bridge to order the high command, in their ships, to observe the videolink that was about to be made next to McNorman's bed later that day.
Two measurements and several thousand kilometers later, the admiral's sedative had to have worn off and Boris took a video transmitter to McNorman. It was turned on for the high-ranking officers to see.
'Sir,' he began, speaking in his most formal tone, 'one of the Protoss has informed me that they have spotted human activity on an outer planet of this system. The humans were harvesting vespene gas and were receiving only rare re-supplies. This data is three months old.'
McNorman had fixed his eyes on Boris. The problem was, his face kept changing his expressions.
'Where? They should form a line, then, and wait for their friends. When the re-supply comes, we will offer them some direct fire...' the admiral babbled.
'Sir, shall we go there and see if there's anybody there who could express interest in joining our fleet?' Boris asked, hoping that the officers would see the state the admiral was in and would consent to giving him more autonomy.
'...the star. Orbit the star. Watch out for their blue, watch out for their blue! Shields, I want the science vessel to cast the sphere on the temple right now! The Protoss...' McNorman was creeping him out.
He turned to the camera. Enough delays and friction – having a mad commander will lead this fleet nowhere. 'As you can see, gentlemen, the admiral is having great problems taking decisions. If I may say so, he is incapable of commanding the fleet right now.'
There was a wave of concern on the faces of the high command, as Boris could see in their respective positions on the screen.
Good, he thought. Finally they are beginning to see things my way.
'That's bad...'
'I agree with Paskirov here, maybe we should let him rest,' Ferguson suggested.
'Who will be in charge, then, Ferguson?' Captain Steele of one of the Wanderer-class vessels asked.
'I guess Paskirov, he is the vice-admiral, after all.' Ferguson said.
'Yeah, well...'
'I'm with that, it sounds logical.'
'Just temporarily,' Richardson said coldly.
'Of course,' Boris replied. He would not do Confederate trickery at the expense of the mission.
'What if something happens to the admiral? Something bad?' one asked.
'Who will be to blame?' Richardson interfered. But Boris had an idea.
'Maybe, it would be best to place the admiral on Captain Richardson's vessel, where there will be no doubts, sirs?'
Richardson was disturbed for a moment, but returned to his original demeanor after the sudden attack. 'I agree with that.'
'Good! We're sending him via a dropship, then,' the vice-admiral smiled. 'It's me in the meantime?'
Approval was heard, while on the bed McNorman kept struggling with madness.
The admiral was sent away, while the fleet located the temple and sent its men down to examine everything. This time it was a bit different. This time, there were Dark Templar down with the troops.
The Protoss made an impression to the humans when the infantry saw them in action. Although the aliens covered most of their bodies in dark cloth and cloaks, usually leaving only their glowing eyes visible, the grace with which they moved was discernible after several seconds of observing them. They were swift and determinate, moving alongside the marines in the open and through the corridors. To negate the negative effects their invisibility had to the morale of the human troops, the high command had persuaded Adelnur and his warriors to wear small tracking devices that allowed the infantry to see the Dark Templar displayed on their visors.
The temple was double-checked, thoroughly photographed and charted and the the fleet set off to the other planet in the system that was scheduled to visit. The sight of it was not a pleasant one. It was a cold, desolate desert orbited by two moons. As the expeditionary fleet was entering the atmosphere the first readings about it began to appear. No magnetic field. No protective layer against the vagaries of the central star. Hardly any water and no clouds. Whoever came here had to have a really good reason to stay; and such reason soon became clear. The planet was rich in vespene gas. Its heavy vapors began to be discerned when the ships got closer to the dark surface, stained with ashes and dirt.
The fleet headed to the assumed coordinates where the Protoss had once seen the Terrans. Two hundred kilometers northeast of an enormous canyon, there were low, dark grey mountains. On the bridge, Boris was looking at the distant valley where settlers and refineries were expected to appear. When the fleet came there, he would explain to them the gravity of the situation and they would surely come. At least some of them – you cannot expect people who had come in such a wretched place for the expensive raw vespene gas to just abandon their refinery. Still, some material with all that the fleet had gathered, plus the three redoubtable capital ships had to persuade at least the most reasonable of the workers there.
However, when the battlecruiser came closer, he received bad news.
'Sir,' an operator at one of the consoles began, 'the science vessel Zheng He is reporting of strong organic signatures on the bottom of that valley. Could be Zerg.'
The vice-admiral was just about to order more probes, when more data appearing on the screens at the lower level of the bridge confirmed that the Zerg had already come to the settlers with less of an offer than intentions to kill. Where there once was a Terran settlement, there were now living Zerg formations surrounded by a field of tenuous purple creep. Boris saw the familiar forms that were in the canyon, boldly rising over the wreckage of the human settlement. From among the ruins, and sometimes from the very wrecked remains of human structures, the Zerg forms rose through the cold air of the inhospitable planet. This was a disappointment.
The operators down below began to report requests for orders from the commanders of the other ships.
'Let an aerial bombardment from the large batteries of the Andronikos, the Hreimdar and the Graf von Moltke commence in half an hour,' he ordered. 'Also, operator, tell the infantry battalion to prepare to attack the enemy positions in approximately one hour.'
They would not leave the planet without at least some data collected.
What Boris liked best about the huge batteries of the battlecruisers was their range. Enhanced by Umojan technology to fire at greater distances with higher accuracy than those on the Confederate battlecruisers, they allowed to fire against enemy positions from afar and still deal substantial damage. Although the limited speed of the energy projectiles allowed the swifter ships to get out of the way, the battlecruisers in the expeditionary fleet were still devastating against ground targets.
The cannonade began at the minimum distance at which the Zerg strutures could be targeted without harming any of the remaining Terran ones. Half an hour of fire left the small colony badly damaged and the ground force deployed on the nearby ridges prepared to advance and finish the job in detail.
With the whole fleet behind him, Williams felt safe as he walked twenty meters away from the nearby tank. The full force of the fleet was amassed in one clenched fist of armored machines and eager infantry and somewhere beneath his disciplined movements and his attention towards the radio transmissions, he felt safe being one of the snowflakes in this avalanche of firepower.
Approaching the Zerg colony, the results of the capital ships' huge batteries was visible. Huge parts of the creep were scorched. The burned bodies of some Zerg were laying down in front of them. Even the huge structures were now torn apart and their slimy remains lay on the ground in pools of organic fluids about which the ghost preferred not to know much. Your show is over, scum, he thought with self-satisfaction.
In the colony, there were also the human structures. As the infantry battalion was moving alongside them, occasionally finishing any surviving Zerg that tried to ambush the soldiers, Williams saw the damage. Many of the structures were unidentifiable. Only pieces of their walls, now a twisted, tangled wreck rose over their bases and the creep that the fundaments were buried under. On many places, the neosteel had huge dents and holes, as if scratched and pierced by monstrous claws. The Zerg, alright. Those settlers had to be in a world of pain when all this happened.
'All units, watch your fire. Inspect the area for remaining supplies of vespene gas,' the voice of the adjutant was heard on the ghost's radio.
Yes, roger that, he thought.
The ground force was now within the confines of the former settlement. A hundred meters later, Williams saw their old command center, still standing. It was not a pleasant sight, with all the creep around it and the Zerg tentacles and ivy-like formations all over it. The Confederate flag was visible beneath them. But, what had to be done had to be done.
He and the ten ghosts and ten marines that made up this INFCOM Zeta platoon entered the infested command center in attack formation and split up to secure the corridors. Williams was rapidly walking through the black corridors, heavy with alien vapors. He could not smell any of that thanks to his mask, but he could feel the aura of the pheromones and could see the tiny particles dim the ray of the nearby marine's flashlight.
They checked the first level and began climbing upstairs. None of the equipment in the command center seemed to be functional, either because of the physical damage this place had endured, or because of the organic material that was now everywhere within it. Williams' group moved through a dead computer room. There was a corpse on the ground, probably an operator. He was covered in the slimy appendages of the Zerg organisms everywhere in the room and, to Wiliams' disgust, it had even crept in his mouth. At least there were just a few more rooms left and they could leave at last.
As his group was walking through a storage room with several suits and rifles, something in the distance made a movement. Williams raised his rifle, ready to fire. The thin red beam of the C-10 was flying over any possible enemy being down the room, but the surface of the reddish living mass, which was even in the very combat suits, made it impossible to discern any threat. The marine stepped forward under the eyes of Williams and the others from the group.
Then, one of the suits next to the marine came to life. It was as if the substance in it decided to step away from the wall and grab the soldier. The people in the room instinctively opened fire at it and it fell back under the spikes of their weapons. For a brief moment, Williams thought he could see a pair of eyes where the head of the creature had to be. Then, it violently exploded.
The ghost was pushed back by the shockwave and fell on the moist ground, his ears ringing. He wasn't deafened, but the force of the blast was about that of a hand grenade, so he quickly stood up to evaluate the damage. The other marines also regained their balance, wondering what had just happened.
'Sir, what the hell was that?' one asked.
The soldier next to the thing, Pvt Brown, was killed. The other men were looking around, frightened.
'I have no idea. But we've spent enough time here. Time to leave,' Williams said and turned to the platoon-level frequency. 'All units, we're moving out. I repeat, we're moving out.'
Five intense minutes later, the men were out in the cold air, relieved to be out of the awful thing that the command center had become.
'The tanks will deal with it, boys. Is anyone missing?' he checked.
'No, sir.'
'Good. Let's finish this.'
The infantry had cleared the compound and some men were sent to see the state of the refinery not far from here. Then, the scientists came, accompanied by the Protoss, to enter every room and turn every stone that the troops had determined were safe. They found out that the settlement was, indeed, inhabited by people from the refinery and that the Confederate ship had not yet arrived when the records ended. The state of some food supplies suggested that the place was attacked by the Zerg one month ago. There were no survivors. However, there was more info. According to a classified file, there was an underground facility five kilometers southwards, where the government was keeping soldiers and scientists.
This intrigued Boris. Maybe there was point in coming here, after all. If anybody was still alive in the safety of the installation, then precious human assistance could be obtained after all. He ordered the leveling of the colony and informed the other high-ranking officers of his intentions.
***
In his room, Chester was playing with a pen when a transmission came. He checked to see who's calling and saw the incoming address – the highest network of the Andronikos. He quickly turned on the transmitter and the vice-admiral appeared in the direct video.
'Errr...'
'Hello, Chester,' Boris said.
The Umojan was failing to find a reason his friend was calling. 'Hello?...'
'Guess what, kid, I have a mission for you.'
Chester felt like a bubble of optimism was growing inside him.
'What is it?' he said quickly.
'As you have probably guessed, we are moving towards an underground Confederate installation right now. We need some assistance with the computers. So I thought I could pull you out of your cell and give you an assignment.'
'Oh, I'm in!' the Umojan felt like laughing. 'What do I need to do?'
'That's the thing. We aren't sure yet. Hopefully, there will be survivors down there. Or, it will be abandoned. Either way, we need eyes and ears for the troops and you are the obvious choice,' Paskirov explained. 'Coming?'
'Do I get my old computer back?' Chester tried to feign suspicion in an effort to obtain some personal benefit from the situation.
'Just for the assignment. You will need it to help us coordinate the units, so you will have it, yea.'
'Alright! When do we start?'
'We are inbound and will begin deployment in about an hour.'
***
Dark clouds gathered over the dark ridges where the fleet was headed later that day. Chester was brought to the massive steel gates in the rocky slope of the elevation and was given his computer. Soldiers and officers awaited him on the small clearing in front of the entrance, standing in the wind. There were Williams, Carla, and Paskirov, in command of the operation.
'Welcome!' Heuven smiled warmly.
'Boris told us why you are here, kid, so don't mess around,' the coldness of the ghost's voice was ever threatening.
'Don't worry, I know what I'm doing,' Chester replied and took a deep breath.
Then, another dropship delivered the engineers and a platoon of infantry.
'So, I have to open the doors?' he asked.
'Yea, do it quick,' Paskirov headed to the dropship. 'I'm going to my HQ. Heuven will come soon, Mike, I promoted him from Delta. Trust him.'
'Your orders, Black One,' the Umojan saw Williams heeding Boris' word.
Alright...
Chester took some of the cabling and found the small console that was used to open the gates. He linked his computer to the main network, thankfully still running on reserve power, and began circumventing the defenses. A few minutes later, he looked around him to see the first platoon of soldiers waiting to get in.
Chester stepped back and pressed a button on the keyboard.
The doors opened.
In front of Chester, a dark corridor led towards the interior of the installation. It was cool and only the flashes of the broken lighting on the ceiling. A marine stepped in and his flashlights illuminated the wreckage of the hallway. The steel floor and the smooth steel walls were broken up on many places and the wiring and piping inside the walls was made visible.
So much about survivors, he thought.
'What a bloody mess...' Carla said.
'Well, we are going in to see who's left inside. You, wise guy,' Williams turned to Chester. 'You are going after the second platoon and you are heading to the nearest useful port. There, you override as much as possible from the systems here and tell us everything you know. Got that?'
'Yea, I did. Don't worry.'
'Don't forget that down there is not a place for cowards,' Carla warned him.
'That's why the soldiers are coming with you,' he countered her with a brief smile before seeing her hostile eyes.
The men from the first platoon entered and the second one, with Chester and two more specialists, followed. Walking behind the troops, he could see the damage all over the walls. Despite the presence of heavily armored soldiers, the place still gave Chester the creeps. The Zerg clearly had been here, and the whole place was wrecked up. After a few turns, the platoon found a room with computer cluster in it for him. The Umojan linked himself up and began informing the high command on everything he could find.
The facility was Confederate, scientific, and classified. It used to have a garrison of troops, plus some heavier machinery, in addition to a disguised defunct antenna and its own power supply. It was attacked by the Zerg twenty-six days ago and there was no data of any survivors. However, when Chester checked the stats of each of the sectors, he found that all the power was re-directed towards the medical sector and that even at that moment, the life support systems there were working.
'Thank you, that's what I needed to know,' Paskirov immediately answered once he heard that. 'INFCOM Delta, this is Vice-admiral Paskirov, you are to proceed to the medical sector of the facility. In its northern part. Expect coordinate update any moment.' He then switched to Chester again. 'Send INFCOM D the location of the medical sector, will you? Thanks.'
Chester followed and continued trying to get into the classified networks while the other platoons moved through this and a nearby corridor.
The infantry was moving in determinately, reviewing the damage and evaluating the situation. It was not long before traces of combat were found: blood, soot and scratches, as well as bodies. In one of the first groups, Carla was leading a platoon bravely throughout the labyrinthine facility. According to the data from Chester, they were now close to the machine support bay and their final destination was the storage rooms at the far eastern end of their level.
Her platoon was just making its way across the darkness of the support bay when something moved and the clank of metal falling on the floor was heard in the large room.
'Who did that?' she asked in a stern tone.
Nobody answered. None of the men was near the source of the sound. Their flashlights shone on the derelict machinery scattered across the place.
'All rifles at the ready!' Carla ordered, fearing the worst. 'Move on!'
The soldiers began a quick march away from the bay. Suddenly, one of the troops who was covering the back of the group shouted.
'There!'
Everybody turned to the far end of the bay where he was pointing. Their lights scanned the corner.
'What?' Carla spoke in an even tone. She knew from Williams that that could keep order with the troops.
'I saw something move there. It jumped behind those machines. I don't know what it was,' the marine was scared.
'Well be more vigilant next time. Everybody, move! The other teams behind is will see what that was.'
Then, the screeching of something sharp over a metallic surface echoed in the bay. It was followed by another screech and then by a faint hissing and growling that grew louder and louder. It was coming from the distant right side of the room. The men prepared their weapons.
'Commander, this is platoon two of INFCOM Gamma. We are reading unidentified presence in our vicinity. No visual contact, only hearing strange noises. Probably living. We are in the machine support bay.'
'Roger that, we are sending platoon four to your location. Hold on.'
One of the rusty mechanisms in the dark bay fell on the ground with a loud noise. Everybody turned to see what was there, but saw nothing. Then, they came.
From the now broken door at the far end of the repair bay, Zerg were pouring into the dim room.
'Fire! Grenades!' Carla commanded the response. 'Colonel, we have contact! Multiple hostiles. We're commencing defensive maneuvers. Zerg! Do you copy!'
After several tense seconds, Heuven's sharp voice was heard on the radio. 'I read you. Try to go back. We're sending help right away. Keep in touch.'
Not impressed by the promises, Carla had the platoon retreat away from where they came, towards the storage rooms. Somewhere along the way, they could hopefully find a detour and a clear way back to the entrance.
***
Boris was listening to the transmissions from the units in the facility. Platoons one, two and three from INFCOM Gamma were now reporting Zerg – Zerg that seemed to come between them and the rest of the troops. That was bad. The battalion had walked into an ambush and now some of its indispensable units were threatened. He began to reorganize the force inside.
***
Williams, in the meantime, had reached the vicinity of the medical sector. His troops were ready to fire as they slowly proceeded through the empty corridors. No enemies were seen. They reached a huge, locked door, and when it was opened, they walked into a well-lit hallway full of junk. Domestic junk. There were empty boxes of food and medicine lying around, a sign of human activity. Williams' platoon split into groups and began checking the rooms around the corridors in the sector for survivals. In a total of three rooms, the twenty or so Confederate scientists were sitting on the floor, with bleak expressions on their faces. Through the glass windows on the walls, the ghost waved at them and when when they saw him they leaped on their feet. The major was slightly shocked to see the state they were in. Weak and hungry, they tried to run towards him, recognizing the first human they had seen probably in weeks.
'Commander, this is Williams, I have located the survivors, and I'm liberating them. Awaiting command.'
'Excellent work, Mike!' Paskirov replied on the radio. 'Get them to Chester at once, he will need all the info he can get from them.'
'Roger that.'
Meanwhile, the survivors had opened the doors and were walking towards him.
'I am Major Williams from an Umojan Expeditionary Fleet. I am here to evacuate you,' he presented himself.
'Thank heavens you came, we thought we were doomed!' a young, bearded scientist rejoiced.
'We thought of contacting anybody who could hear, but the antenna was disabled. And there was nobody alive who could fix it,' another one said.
'Don't tell me the story, my job is to get you out of here. Follow me.'
The feeble scientists followed him as he and the troops escorted them out to the gates, where medical teams were already waiting. He heard the update for Zerg being spotted and realized that Carla could be on the wrong side of the enemy. He decided to hurry before the thought became prepossessing.
***
Carla's unit was running as fast as they could through the abandoned corridors, trying to find a diversion southwards. Finally, after a security block of some sort, they found one. They hurried through it and moved through a cafeteria of some sort, all bloody and smelling so rancid that even her gas mask could not keep the entire stench away. After it, they proceeded southwards, finding themselves in some sort of chemical section of the huge Confederate installation. They crossed a corridor and it led them to a huge hall with many barrels on the floor. They crossed it through a catwalk and went through a metal door. They slammed it behind them and found themselves in a computer room with windows towards a larger hall and an exit on its side. A marine blocked the door with a table while Clara looked at the interior. It was a vast chamber that stretched for more than hundred meters in the distance. It was tall, too, as she saw when she peered down the windows. The computer room was something like a box stuck to the ceiling of the enormous hall. The exit on the side of the overseeing computer room led to another catwalk that moved all the way around the interior of the hall, close to the ceiling and the weak lights on it.
At several points, walkways led away of it towards platforms in the centre. Beneath the platforms, under the darkness of the hall, there were huge storage tanks taking up most of the space. Their contents were hinted at by the sign on the wall next to Carla - “CHEMICAL STORAGE BAY 3”.
'Commander, me and my men just went in chemical storage bay three. The Zerg are coming. Awaiting instructions.'
'Alright,' Chester's voice was heard. 'Is there any other exit out of there? I'm finding this on the map...'
She moved to the catwalk, followed by several marines, and gazed at the distance. There was nothing on the concrete wall at the bottom of the hall, where the Catwalk descended to the floor.
'I see nothing.'
'Yep,' the Umojan confirmed, as if checking whether a sample of somebody's hair was really his, 'there's nothing alright. The chemicals seem to be pumped in and out of here through pipes...'
'Mr. Wizard, are you suggesting that we crawl through the piping?' she was vexed.
'Er, no, I was just saying. Anyway, how close are the Zerg?' Chester said without enough interest in their situation.
'Closer than the other troops. Is there no other way out of here?'
'It seems no. There are those huge drums here where chemicals are kept, right?'
'Yes.'
'Can you guys bother to take a look at what is in them?'
She was hoping that the Umojan was up to something. 'Can't really see clearly, it's too dark. I'll light a flare...'
'No! Don't!' he shouted over the radio. 'There's no telling what you might ignite. Bad stuff. Let me try to find what's there.'
Carla could hear the Zerg running past them on the other side of the door. Well, at least they could try to blow something up if the aliens got here.
One unpleasant minute later, Chester spoke again. 'Okay, in one of the tanks there is concentrated hydrofluorosilicic acid. It has to be the third from the end of the bay, relative to you. The... Left side. Good, is that where the catwalk is? You can see the acid...'
'What about it?' she interrupted him?
'Well, under you, there's another level. Really, the maintenance level. If you go there, you can possibly make it back to the exit.'
'How do I get down there?' this didn't make sense.
'Well, the acid is highly corrosive... So it ought to burn through the floor. Then, you guys are good to go.'
'So we spill it on the ground?' she asked nervously.
'Basically yes. An additional bonus would be the fumes it will leave behind. The Zerg are not gonna like them, hehe,' Chester thought aloud.
'Roger that! Can we fire at its container?'
'Fire? Oh, sure. It should be fine, yeah...'
Before he could finish, Carla was already giving orders to the men to run to the other end of the storage bay and down the ramp. Maintaining a distance so as to not overload the catwalk, the soldiers hurried away from the louder noise of Zerg activity. Several of the troops were already on the floor and the others, including Carla, were trying to join them. Then, the Zerg began pounding on the door.
'Shoot the bottom of the third tank from the wall! My side! And careful, just a few rounds!' She ordered, hurrying to get to the floor.
A marine fired a burst at the wall of the storage tank, close to its base, and the 12mm projectiles went through the wall, leaving round holes on its surface. The acid quickly began pouring down on the floor, corroding its dirty surface with a loud hiss and a pale cloud of smoke.
'It's working!' one of the soldiers exclaimed.
Carla aimed at the other side of the container and fired a round from her canister rifle. The acid started pouring in another direction, eating a safe exit through another spot.
Then, she saw.
In the fourth container from the end, there were bodies floating. Bodies of Zerg. Half-corroded away, the remains of zerglings could be seen in the liquid of the open storage tank.
What the hell?...
Then, the Zerg broke through.
'It's them!' the marines at the back of the column and closest to the entrance shouted.
'Firebats hold your fire!' Carla shouted a warning. 'Those down – fire! Move!'
The soldiers on the ground opened suppressing fire at the incoming aliens while the others hurried to get away. The acid was working its way through the floor quickly, and the fumes were already accumulating on the ground, yet it was too slow.
A zergling leaped out of the field of suppressing fire and began running towards the last soldier. The man fired at it, terrified, and it stumbled dead on the iron grid.
Walking down the stairs, Carla carefully aimed her C-10 at one of the steel rods that held the inner side of the catwalk. She fired and severed it. The flashed of the stressed soldiers' rifles lit the room. It only made her job easier.
One by one, she took down the supports on which the steel catwalk was hanging. With the coming of more and more Zerg, it began to tilt down, threatening to collapse.
'It worked!' a marine shouted, 'There's the hole!'
The soldiers impatiently approached it, waiting for it to grow bigger. In the distance, the zerglings now had to grab onto the steel mesh of the catwalk with their claws in order to resist the slope.
'Prepare to move in!' She shouted.
***
Meanwhile, Boris was listening to the updates. The rescued Confederate scientists were now with Chester and were helping him pull the strings of the whole facility. He was working hard down there, assisting the troops scattered through the compound. And no wonder – he had both plenty of energy, and the desire to atone for his past mistakes.
The various groups' progress was problematic. The Zerg presence in the facility was, indeed, formidable and posed difficulties to the pullout. Seeing how the available forces were not enough, he decided to call the reserves. INFCOM Beta was to move in.
The troops were quickly ferried from the ships and to the entrance. They rushed into the depths of the facility with a simple goal – to secure the lower levels and meet up with Carla before they were overrun. The soldiers advanced quickly and decisively through the corridors under the main level of the installation. Boris only hoped his little idea would make it be quick enough.
***
Carla watched the first marine fire several rounds at the edge of the hole to make it bigger and jump.
'Careful with the acid!' the one behind him warned him before following him.
The troops eagerly descended into the opening on the floor, while the Zerg were coming closer and closer. Then, the catwalk failed and a section of it fell down on the lids of the storage tanks further away, along with the Zerg on it. Carla could hear the cracking of metal beneath the weigh of the aliens and the sound of heavy bodies falling in water that followed. Thee Zerg were getting dizzy by the chemicals and she hurried to take her own turn through the exit. She threw her rifle at a soldier down below and descended to the lower level, grabbing the pipes and wires on the walls and avoiding any of the acid dripping around her.
The room downstairs was an old one. Filled with all sorts of junk, it could rival some of the rooms on the New Trinidad platforms.
'Chester, we're out! Where to now?'
'Oh, you're out. Good. Now, you have to go westwards and sooner or later you will meet up with INFCOM Beta.'
'Roger that,' she said. 'Platoon one, follow me. Platoon two, prepare to move out once assembled. Same for the rest of you,' she commanded and led the first group out of the rusty room.
Her group quickly left the room and entered another dirty old corridor. She wondered whether to tell Chester about the Zerg bodies in the storage tanks or not. Nah, he could wait.
They hurried down the corridor, leaving marks for the following teams to follow. Not wasting any time, her group was rushing onwards through stairs and hallways towards the reinforcements. Then, Heuven came on the radio.
'Sergeant, I have a new objective for you.'
'Go ahead, commander.'
'Southwest of your location there is a power generator cluster. You are to go there and follow Doctor Fitzpatrick's instructions to activate it.'
'But, sir, there is enemy presence in the vicinity.'
'I know. But do not worry. INFCOM Beta are close and will join you by the time you are at your objective.'
'Yes, sir,' she confirmed, hoping this was worth the risk.
***
At the same time, Williams was exiting the medical sector. To his surprise, the old door they had come through was now locked. He tried the console, but it was malfunctioning.
'It won't work,' one of the scientists looked at it.
'How do we get out, then?' the ghost asked.
'There is another gate out of here, leading to the morgue.'
'The morgue?' Williams replied as evenly as he could.
'Yes, we have a morgue here,' the scientist looked at him through his glasses. 'It's just outside the secure medical area.'
'Alright... Shouldn't be a problem,' the armed ghost said. 'Lead the way.'
Several concrete hallways and safety doors later, the platoon found themselves in front of a wide steel door with the number 6 spray-painted on it. One of the Confederates began pushing buttons on the console next to it and a while later, it began sliding away with a hiss.
The marines raised their weapons towards what lay beyond it. What Williams saw did not please him. The huge hall where bodies were stored in the sliding drawers was entirely covered with some sort of moss. The ghost felt sick when he realized that it was the same organic slime which he had seen in the interior of the infested command center. The Zerg living mass had crept here... And had been feeding on the cadavers.
Some of the scientists almost vomited at the sight of the infestation. The troops were appalled.
'My God...' one of the Confederates uttered.
'Can you walk through this?' Williams pointed at the mossy floor.
'Yes, yes. Just two rooms and we're out of here,' one scientist frowned.
'Then let's go!' the ghost ordered and hurried them and the escorting soldiers through the vile place.
At the end of the second room, he looked back to see if everybody was there. The scientists were covering their noses and were struggling through the slimy floor, but nevertheless they made it. Then, something on one of the open body drawers moved. Williams focused at it in the distance.
From beneath the living veil, the cadaver on the drawer was twitching.
'What the...' the ghost said, not being able to take his eyes off the corpse struggling to stand up in wild jerks.
The creature stumbled on the ground, still covered with the Zerg sludge. He noticed how the alien matter had grown into the dead man, like additional body mass. The reddish parasitic thing on the moving cadaver was now pulsating while its reanimated host struggled to stay on his feet and walk towards Williams. He saw its bloody red eyes looking at him with wild lust and felt his training take control.
Williams raised his rifle and released a round at the head of the monster. The troops next to him who were also staring at it with fright were taken out of their trance by their commander's action and, too, fired at it. The hideous being was torn apart, but before it fell on the ground, its body began tearing apart, huge sores appeared on its skin, filled with bile and the infested human corpse exploded.
Williams felt the heat wave through his protective suit.
'Everybody out!' he shouted. In the distance, other bodies were awakening from their rest. 'Grenades! You, seal the door!'
The marines fired several grenades as they pulled out, leaving one of the Confederates time to lock the other steel door at their end of the morgue.
'Sir, what the hell was that?' a firebat asked.
'I don't know, private,' Williams answered, trying to keep himself under control. 'Only our scientists can tell us now.'
The metal door was sealed and the scientist stepped back.
'We have no idea what that is,' he said.
'Nobody has, yet,' the ghost replied. 'Now, come.'
***
The other two platoons quickly caught up with Carla's on the way to the generators. They bore bad news: the Zerg had followed them through the hole and were now pursuing them. Swallowing another piece of grim news, Carla hurried the pace towards their objective.
Shortly, signs began to appear and the three platoons found their way into the generator cluster. It was another huge forty-meter wide hall with a tall ceiling and three wide exits on its sides. In its corners there was old junk.
She contacted the Umojan. 'Alright, Mr. Wizard, time to tell us what to do. And be quick, there's Zerg chasing us.
'Ah, greetings,' Chester replied. 'Now, you should see three wide corridors leading to each side. In them are three generators that you need to turn on, okay?'
'How does the turning on happen?'
'Basically, you have to find the huge fuses and restore their connections. This will activate the auxiliary power supply...'
'How do we restore their connections?' she wished the little scientist spoke in clearer terms.
'Find a conductor. Preferably copper. The fuses here are some old, proven technology. Whoever designed this was playing safe. Just turn off the generator, stick the conductor inside the fuse, and turn on again.'
'Alright. Thank you. I will call back then I'm done.'
'Wait,' Chester's voice stopped her short of closing the conversation. 'Bear in mind that you will need to take the current out of the main cable you will see under the generator's main side panel.'
'Main side panel?' Carla was getting confused.
'Remove big orange plate, pull out yellow cable... Yes, yellow cable, connect conductor from yellow cable to the fuse...' the Umojan began systematic explanations.
'Yes, got that,' she said and called the other two platoon leaders. 'Listen up, we have some simple repairs to make down here. The boys from Beta will be here any minute, so don't worry and focus.'
She took them and some marines carrying the required materials to the first generator. It stood in its huge cubical chamber like a five-meter tall inverted stylized bee hive put atop a large grey box.
'Watch and memorize, you will repeat this in chamber three when I'm done here,' she said and removed the orange panel to follow Chester's instructions. When she restored the severed fuse and turned on the generator, the wire twitched and sent a few sparkles in the air, but then stopped still.
'Done... Now, take the remaining wires and fix the other third one. I'll take care of number two,' she proceeded with the operation.
Walking through the main hall, the troops were in defensive formation, ready to repel any Zerg. She hoped it wouldn't have to come to this.
As she was finishing her generator, she heard sounds of shooting and of Zerg screeching in pain. She hurriedly turned it on and ran towards the main hall to see the situation. The Zerg were coming from the short gateway the units had entered from and were now trying to get to the soldiers through the spacious hall.
She immediately contacted Chester. 'We're done here! The Zerg have come!'
'Oh, good. I'm turning it on. Much obliged, now they've got power. You might wanna contact Heuven now...'
She growled at his unconcerned verbosity and quickly called the Colonel. 'Commander, requesting backup! The enemy are here!'
'Yes, INFCOM Beta are on their way, hold on. Give them ten minutes. Some of the doors were shut.'
'Ten minutes!?' she could hardly hide her vexation.
'I'm afraid so. Over and out.'
Just great, she thought. Well, gotta keep moving, help might as well come in time.
The troops' fire soon drove the enemies back. Seeing the retreating enemy, the men cheered. However, the sounds out there still lingered, reminding the troops that the enemy was not destroyed.
'Sarge, what shall we do?' a firebat asked her.
She didn't know. Nothing came to her mind except to fight on. There could be another way, though, she thought, looking at the garbage. It was time to call the Umojan again.
'Chester, we have problems here. Are you there?'
'Yes, yes, I'm listening. Zerg, I hear,' Chester spoke in a calm, relaxed voice so as to tease her.
'Can you help us somehow?'
'I dunno...' he said, 'Nothing meaningful in the systems here. What have you got?'
'There is just garbage. Old wires, some iron net, old carts, disused parts...'
'Alright... Maybe there is something you can do. Listen, those generators... You could use their electricity.'
'I'm listening.'
Twenty minutes later, the trap was set on the ground. Cables from the first generator ran all the way from it to a net of uninsulated wires laying between the soldiers and the entrance. Anything that walked over it was in for a bad surprise. And INFCOM Beta were nowhere near.
The troops awaited the next wave and when it came, they opened fire, unleashing death at the wild Zerg. Carla was shooting, too, trying to hold the line for as long as possible. Then, the first lucky zergling leaped on the net and the electric current leaped through it, ignoring whatever resistance its skin had, and covered it in sparks. The zergling fell on the ground, burned by the electricity.
Then, to Carla's terror, another such creature jumped on the wires. And nothing happened to it.
'Erm, sergeant, has anything happened to the first generator there?' Chester's voice was heard.
'The electrocution idea didn't work! You failed!' she shouted over the clamor of the fighting.
'You mean... It's off?' the Umojan's frightened voice was heard. She wondered how bad it had to be for him to sound like this. 'Damn, then I was wrong about the yellow cable. It's not that!'
'Anything to comment on the fact that we are going to die here?' she was angry. She switched to the command. 'Colonel, requesting reinforcements! What is taking them so long?'
'Sergean, INFCOM Beta were facing heavy resistance, just as you,' Heuven sounded nervous from the fighting. 'They are already fighting the rear of the Zerg force you are encountering. Over.'
Good news at last. Carla ordered the troops to open indiscriminate fire. The Zerg, who were managing to cut the distance to the Terrans for the last three minutes, were greeted with several grenades that fell in their ranks and created momentary confusion among them. The pauses between the bursts waned and the line of soldiers grew more resolute. Then, they stopped firing.
Behind the Zerg, something was happening. There was chaos at their rear, now within the confines of the huge hall. Carla could not see what was killing them, but could discern the harm and the blood and the severed limbs. Only loud, buzzing swooshes were heard. Suddenly, it occurred to her. She leaped aside to change her angle of view. There were cloaked Dark Templar there, massacring the Zerg.
The Protoss warriors, as she was later told, had come alongside the reinforcements from INFCOM Beta by the suggestion of Boris. In the labyrinthine interior of the facility, they were doing a perfect job hewing the Zerg monsters with their psi blades, while their invisibility confused the Zerg and made resistance to their attack almost impossible. The light-bending silhouettes finished off the last Zerg and the Protoss faded in visibility. One of them stepped forward.
'I am Adelnur, the leader of these warriors. I was sent here by your second-in-command to rescue you and your men as a part of my oath,' a deep, orderly voice echoed in her mind.
'Thank you. What took you so long?' she mentally asked.
'There were more foes than we anticipated. Now come. They have been defeated. We are to finish the others, your troops are relieved.'
She exhaled in relief and headed towards the gateway.
***
When it was all over and the huge underground installation had been cleared of Zerg, the Umojans began taking the secrets it kept for themselves. From the rescued scientists, the high command learned the fate of the facility. When the Zerg attacked the settlement, the settlers, who knew of its existence, but did not know what was inside, tried to seek shelter in it. It was a mistake that doomed them, and the people inside. The Zerg had broken in and killed everybody they could find, except for the scientists, who made use of the tightly sealed medical sector and hid there, untraceable by the aliens. Then, they had to survive with what was at hand, until the Umojan Expeditionary Fleet had arrived.
That night, in front of the gates, Williams was holding Carla in his hands.
'There is something we need to discuss,' he began.
'What is it?'
'I cannot tolerate you exposing yourself to such risk.'
'You know I can take care of myself, Mike,' she reminded him.
'Yes, but this is war. Death is everywhere. Your presence on the battlefield hinders my ability to take decisions.'
'So, you think that I am not distressed when you are fighting?' her tone was angered.
He decided to be direct. 'Maybe you are. I do not care. But the goals of this fleet are clear. And my decision-taking is more important than your-decision taking. Rank discrepancy. Therefore, my concentration is more important than yours.'
'Be careful what you are going to say next,' she turned icy.
'I'll say what I must. You will not fight any more. Not as long as I have to look after troops.'
She let go of him.
'I don't like this,' she said coldly.
'If you were trained for war, Clara, you'd know how to prioritize. That's what I have to say,'
he told her, looking at her neutral face as she turned towards the nearby dropship.
Further away, in Paskirov's cabin aboard the Andronikos, somebody was getting good news.
'I heard how you did today, bud,' the vice-admiral told Chester. 'I'm glad. You are back in business.'
The Umojan grinned in happiness. 'I'm so glad I didn't fail you, Boris! I knew you would get me here again.'
'Now, now, it's more about cleaning your own reputation among the others. You know I trust you, I just needed them to see your service. It would be stupid if we kept a gifted mind like you out of business, wouldn't it?' Paskirov smiled.
'Hehe, right.'
'Now, I am waiting for Williams... He should be here any minute.'
'But you just said I was again free - I want to hear what you have to say.'
'Right. Sure, then, stay,' Paskirov said.
Then, Williams entered. He looked scornfully at Chester and sat on the other chair in the room.
'Next time know your cables, wise guy,' he said with badly hidden hostility.
'Alright, knock it off!' the vice-admiral scolded him. 'I read the scientists' report of the infested corpses. What happened in that morgue?'
Williams sat back. 'As we were leaving, the bodies on the drawers began coming to life. You probably know the basics of the Zerg organisms growing around and into them, but the way they moved was really demoralizing for the men.'
'Right, I can imagine, then,' Boris said. 'When you shot the thing it exploded, right?'
'Yes. It was a wave of heat.'
'What are you talking about?' Chester looked at them with terrified eyes.
'Oh, you did not read the report yet?' the ghost smiled.
'What was in that morgue?'
'Mike had to go through the morgue because the door they went through malfunctioned. In the morgue, everything was covered in some sort of Zerg spores or mold or whatever,' Boris explained. 'Then, by the time they were at the end of it, the bodies started coming to life. With the Zerg thing all over them, and inside them, they tried to get to the major. They could not, because they were slow, yet they were highly combustive when badly harmed.'
'Are you saying... That the Zerg have infested humans?' the Umojan slowly said.
'Yes, I'm afraid. Put it in another way, they were, at least the dead humans,' Boris shook his head. 'I have no idea what this means exactly, but I can assure you, it can't be good.'
'You betcha it can't. What are we going to do about this?' Chester asked.
'Finish the job with the slab, professor,' Williams coldly replied.
***
The fleet now had all the various weapons that the Confederates had developed. There were things inside whose helpfulness against whatever came against the UEF made Boris grin in joy. The science vessels were equipped with EMP charges – a seemingly harmless missile that generated a powerful electromagnetic pulse around it. This pulse was pernicious to any electronics within a certain range, frying their circuits whether on or off. It wiped away some or all of a Protoss' psi shields and the only protection against it, which Boris ordered the fleet to implement, was a special conducting grid with a running current that surrounded the desired piece of electronics. Such grids were installed around the valuable parts of all the vessels bigger than a dropship and the humans were good to go.
There was also chemical weaponry specifically designed against the Zerg. The Confederate scientists had been tapping the wonders of science into many directions, many of which were hard to accept, but the anti-Zerg chemicals was a particularly useful one. With the information derived, the fleet could produce its own chemical weaponry and employ yet another countermeasure to the hostile aliens.
All else, however, including various biological weapons, were not to be preserved. There were things in those flasks and databases that Boris knew ought never to be used. Viruses and chemicals that even a Zerg did not deserve to face. The Confederacy, in its malevolence, had produced such things, but the vice-admiral could not risk allowing at least these formulae that were here to be found by somebody else, especially a Confederate. For it was certain that the Confederacy would use them against not only enemies, but also its own people. So, he ordered them destroyed. Doing humanity a favor, he thought.
Most importantly, there were nuclear missiles. Special new models, more efficient than the ones he had heard were in service. There were three of them, laser-guided and ready to fire at any time. The nukes were dropped from a high altitude and their special guidance system aimed them towards the spot designated by a ghost's rifle. A special tool was attached to the rifle while the ghost aimed it at the chosen coordinate and the missile automatically corrected its course against the wind and to the designated ground zero. Beneath a certain altitude, it was considered that the nuke would hit the target with sufficient accuracy, so the ghost was free to go and get as far as possible from the detonation. All the ghosts in the battalion were equipped with such devices and the nuclear missiles were placed secretly aboard the Enteos, which, according to modified procedure, would stay in high orbit, far from the action, and wait for orders to release part of its nuclear potential.
And, the experimental weapons. Among the usable ones were some improved gear for the ghosts plus the so-called Yamato cannon. The Yamato cannon was a group of several special apparatuses that was attached to the front of the battlecruiser's hammerhead. Tapping an enormous proportion of the battlecruiser's energy, it generated the power of a nuclear explosion just in front of the capital ship - and then released it forwards. The live tests showed how much it strained the Androniokos' power grid, despite even for the upgraded ship reactor. However, the devastating attack was deemed a worthy investment and the Yamato cannon remained on the flaghsip.
The expeditionary fleet was getting a more hostile flavor, Boris could not fail to notice. Good. It made them more dangerous for any fool whose actions threatened Terran space.