Shadow of the Xel'Naga, page 12
The enormous blast rippled outward, flash-crisping all the Zerg forces within the fuel depot, knocking flat any others on the periphery. The explosion continued to build, and Octavia held on to her seat as the robo-harvester bucked and rolled.
When the smoke and flames cleared, she saw to her amazement that the bulk of the attacking swarm had been annihilated through the fiery explosions, as well as the other colonists' continued efforts. The remaining Zerg troops on the fringe backed off, either from fear or a sense of defeat.
Dazed, Octavia climbed out of the robo-harvester. The surviving colonists emerged from their hiding places, some of them pale with shock, others drenched with blood—both red blood and inhuman greenish ichor.
Kiernan and Kirsten stumbled out of their mining machine, mouths open, looking amazed. No one seemed to believe the skirmish had been won, that they had driven off the implacable invading aliens.
Mayor Nikolai emerged from the shelter of his comm turret, grinning as triumphantly as a conquering hero. “I've done it! Good news. I've contacted the Terran forces. The military will be here soon.”
Some of the settlers groaned, others cheered. Octavia felt too numb to complain about the mayor's actions. She slumped against the dirty treads of the robo-harvester, heaved several exhausted breaths, then looked up in awe as she heard a new rumbling, hissing sound, much louder than the one they had heard at dawn.
The third and largest wave of Zerg marched across the plains—not just small scout creatures and a few Hydralisks this time, but gigantic monsters as well, like nightmarish versions of prehistoric woolly mammoths with enormous scythelike tusks that looked capable of slicing buildings in half.
In the skies, a cluster of twisted dragonlike creatures swept along the winds, heading toward the settlement. Dozens and dozens of Hydralisks slithered along in the front row. They kept coming. In addition, Octavia saw many other minions, twisted breeds, horrifying mutations, all of them looking deadly, all of them intent on wiping out the Terran settlers.
Octavia could only stare in defeat. This wave would be unstoppable.
CHAPTER 26
IN ORBIT OVER BHEKAR RO, THE SHIPS OF ALPHA Squadron continued to be battered and pounded by the frenzied Protoss and Zerg space fleets.
General Edmund Duke paced the control bridge. “Well, men, it sounds as if we need to leave this little playground behind,” he said, looking at the message his comm officer had given him. “Those colonists need our help, so we'll have to go down to the surface and take care of that firestorm right away.”
Lieutenant Scott watched the flaming hulk that remained of the Bismarck and saw the damaged Battlecruiser Napoleon limping along, trying to break free of the converging alien forces. “Is that tactically wise, General? Our forces are in dire straits up here.”
Frowning, Duke turned his craggy face toward the tactical officer. “Lieutenant Scott, it would be quite an embarrassment if we came all this way to rescue colonists, and then let the aliens gobble them up before we could help.” He had learned long ago that becoming a war hero was due as much to public relations as it was to tactical brilliance. “Don't worry. We'll leave some ships in place, though, so they can keep fighting the enemy.”
The lieutenant gave combat orders, directing the main force of Terran battle vessels to break off their orbital conflict and descend to the surface. To the rest of the human ships left in space to defend against the Zerg and Protoss, it looked as if they were running away.
“This is not a retreat,” General Duke insisted. “We are initiating an offensive in the opposite direction.”
The vanguard of Alpha Squadron plunged through the dusty skies like a cavalry riding in to save the besieged Terrans of Free Haven. Below, Duke could see the town smoldering. A great deal of damage had already been done. But the colonists had survived so far.
The general saw the stampede of Zerg sweeping across the flat ground to surround and engulf the octagonal settlement. Some of the enemy creatures had already broken through the fence, but at the sight of the numerous alien bodies strewn around—not to mention the smoking craters and the flaming debris— General Duke was impressed that the settlers had been able to mount such an effective resistance, for a bunch of clodhoppers.
Now all he needed to do was save enough of them so he could show clips of his success on the Universal News Network. He smiled. “Alien scum.” He ordered his ships to fire.
Alpha Squadron entered the dirtside fray like a bull in a china shop, striking at anything that moved, though making an effort to avoid anything that appeared human. Ranks of airborne Zerg—a subspecies that General Duke recognized as Mutalisks— flew upward, spitting green acid slime through the air. For some reason, though, the Mutalisks did not engage the Battlecruisers. Instead, the flying monsters pulled away, ascending toward the orbital conflict. They had probably been summoned by the Overlords in space to engage the Protoss forces, now that the Terran military had broken off from that particular fight.
That was fine with General Duke.
Terran Dropships swooped low to the ground and delivered Arclite Siege Tanks, heavily shielded soldiers wearing Goliath combat armor, and scavenger Hover Bikes called Vultures. These military units advanced, prepared to engage any creatures on the ground.
The general made no attempt to reestablish contact with the political administration in the Terran colony. This was a military operation, and he would damn well do what he felt was necessary.
His men knew the drill. They spread out to build defensive perimeters while the small Wraiths and huge Battlecruisers provided air support against the advancing Zerg. Using full firepower, the Alpha Squadron ships struck repeatedly, pounding even the mammoth-sized Ultralisks, wiping out waves of the remaining Zerglings, crushing groups of Hydralisks.
“This is more like it,” Duke said, and took over some of the firing controls for himself just to keep in practice.
With the flying, acid-spitting Mutalisks gone and no enemy air attack imminent, Duke's assault became a one-sided rout. After hours of absolute slaughter, he ended up losing only eleven Wraiths, five Goliaths, and a handful of Marines and Firebats, all of whom would get honorable citations signed by Emperor Arcturus Mengsk himself—if the Dominion had new stationery printed yet.
As the Norad III landed outside the smoking town, General Duke disembarked with his shoulders squared, his chin held high. He expected cheers, though the surviving rescued settlers looked exhausted and stunned.
Frowning slightly, he saw that his Marines and Firebats had caused about as much destruction to the town buildings as the Zerg had. Unfortunate. Still, it was friendly fire, so the colonists shouldn't complain. “Collateral damage, that's all,” he muttered to himself as he marched down the street of his newly conquered town.
He looked for the mayor or, if the Zerg had killed the man, somebody else who could formally turn over control to this military operation. He looked around at the colonists, imagining that they viewed him as their savior.
“I'll make this my ground base of operations now,” he said as more Marines emerged from a just-landed Dropship. He debated whether to make a speech first or to order his Marines to help extinguish some of the fires in the town. In a gracious gesture, he dispatched battlefield medics to see if they could help any of the wounded settlers.
He smiled proudly and turned to the bedraggled colonists. “You civilians can all rest easy now.”
CHAPTER 27
OUT AT THE SITE OF OLD RASTIN'S HOMESTEAD, the prospector's shack and refinery structures had evolved. They were now completely covered with living organic matter.
Hard exoskeletons grew up in tangled, twisted labyrinths following the genetic model of a Zerg Hive, a pattern that no human could comprehend. The fleshy biomass of Zerg Creep continued to spread, absorbing raw materials from the rough dirt and processing it into a nourishing substance.
While many Queens had landed with the arrival of Kukulkan Brood, this one had remained in the Hatchery established at Rastin's homestead. The only purpose of this place was to spawn larvae by the hundreds, each of which would evolve into one of the various minions.
Ducking her triangular head on a long, sinuous neck, the Queen raised her pointed arms. She knew her part in the mission. Sarah Kerrigan, the new Queen of Blades, had planted full instructions in the minds of the Kukulkan Overlords, which controlled all the Queens and their Hatcheries. The Queen, in turn, controlled all the wasplike Drones that moved about building the Hatchery, grasping material with their clacking claws. They evolved the Hatchery through the intermediary stage of a defensible Lair until, finally, this conquered outpost would become a full-fledged Zerg Hive.
Kukulkan Brood had a variety of minions to meet any resistance. Like giant insects, Drones went about their work, following instructions, utterly loyal. The larvae continued to mutate from spiny grubs into Zerglings, Hydralisks, even mammoth-sized Ultralisks. Newborn flying-dragon Mutalisks took to the skies, ready to launch aerial attacks with hurled acid.
And there was something new. The Queen, following her Zerg instincts, had absorbed the DNA of the large blue-furred dog that had been infested here. The Zerg considered the ferocious animal a potential candidate for an experimental new strain of minion.
Throughout their race's history, the Zerg had conquered other species and acquired superior traits from their genetics. When the swarm had first attacked the old prospector and his dog, the Queen had seen genetic characteristics and capabilities the Zerg did not have—yet.
Though Old Blue had already succumbed to the initial infestation, the Queen had catalogued and remembered the canine DNA. As an experiment, she began to incorporate the improvements in the dog's musculature—and, most important, an advanced sense of smell—into new larvae. In several test creatures, the Queen designed fearsome Zerg traits into large mastiff bodies that resembled the blue-furred dog. . . .
Under the old refinery structure, her Drones burrowed deep beneath the ground, moving buried boulders in crustal shafts to reawaken all four of the Vespene geysers. Then a Drone metamorphosed into a living Extractor over the spouts of valuable energetic gas. The Extractor collected the outpouring Vespene and packaged it in concentrated fleshy sacks, which were brought back to the Hatchery. Some of the gas was used to create other Zerg minions for the conquering force. Some was sent to Zerg soldiers, which consumed the substance, drawing power and nourishment to continue the fight against their enemies.
The newborn minions tunneled into the ground or spread across the surface, expanding outward in an unstoppable force. While the attack on the colony town had been a serious effort, it was only a small part of the overall strategy of Kukulkan Brood.
The human colonists were potential resources, but they were also life-forms that could offer resistance to the Zerg plan. Ultimately, though, the settlers were irrelevant.
The main Zerg objective was elsewhere, across the ridge and in the next valley, where Protoss forces had already landed. . . .
* * *
Walking like mechanical spiders driven by living brains, the Protoss Dragoons had disappeared into the cathedral shape of the Xel'Naga artifact.
But before Executor Koronis could receive a report on their explorations, his ground troops of fanatical Zealots sounded an alarm. They reeled backward as the valley surface began to ripple and crack.
Then a storm of Zerg attackers emerged from the ground, boiling up from hidden burrows. Hydralisks heaved upward, their curved backs bent forward so that their volleys of poisonous needle spines sliced the closest Protoss soldiers to ribbons.
Koronis's Zealots screamed and rushed forward into the fray. Though they had not yet reached the highest levels of the Khala, the Templar warriors were ruthless and fanatically dedicated to defending their race. Enhanced with cybernetic grafts, the Zealots wore sophisticated power suits complete with curved shoulder crests, breastplates, and padded greaves. On their thick forearm units they wore enhancements to channel their psionic energy, focusing it into a deadly Psionic Blade. The Zealots charged into battle with full fury, slashing with shimmering Psionic Blades to mow down the alien attackers.
Reacting to the sudden Zerg offensive, Executor Koronis summoned his ground forces, calling out his High Templars and launching the sluggish but deadly Reavers—armored units that looked like huge caterpillars—and more of his mobile cyborg Dragoons.
Following their leader's command without question, many Zealots sacrificed themselves in order to draw the Zerg together, concentrating them. Koronis saw his chance.
Standing on the rocky foothills beneath the huge pulsing artifact, the Executor summoned up the energies inside him. He used one of his greatest weapons, learned from decades of studying the most subtle nuances of the Khala by meditating on his small fragment of crystal on board the Qel'Ha.
A Psionic Storm.
The giant Khaydarin crystals littered around the Xel'Naga artifact reflected his telepathic energy, focusing his attack so that the mental storm continued to build, gathering power.
From higher up, closer to the fringe of the once-buried artifact, Judicator Amdor looked down with concern and amazement. Crackling, energy-saturated wind blasted his dark robes until they flapped around him like angry flames. His eyes blazed.
Below, Koronis did not hold back. He released his Psionic Storm with the most terrible blast he had ever conjured. The roiling energy roared down at the concentrated Zerg minions, and he felt a searing satisfaction when the blast incinerated dozens of the ferocious alien troops.
Weakened, the Executor fell back as the wind and the light began to fade into the sky. But the struggle was not over.
Again, his Zealots charged forward, their Psionic Blades ignited. The battle had just been joined. Koronis blinked with amazement to see other sections of the ground crack open, spewing forth even more Zerg attackers.
He ordered his Carriers to come down and form a solid fortification around the artifact—their prize. More help could not arrive quickly enough, as far as Koronis was concerned.
Right now he could see only more and more of the Zerg rushing forward in an unstoppable wave. . . .
CHAPTER 28
WHEN THE BLUSTERY AND DESTRUCTIVE TERRAN Marines took over the town of Free Haven, Octavia Bren didn't see much of an improvement over the Zerg invasion.
While the surviving settlers rushed to put out fires, tend to their wounded, and bury their dead, General Duke commandeered the largest intact building in front of the town square and then pulled out a folding command chair from his Battlecruiser. He and his men moved with practiced military precision to set up their base camp inside the town limits.
While Abdel and Shayna Bradshaw took care of the injured colonists who had been carried to the meeting hall, Octavia saw to those who still lay where they had fallen. She moved from one bleeding neighbor to another, tending their cuts and broken bones with plastiscab bandages, flexsplints, and antibiotics, rapidly draining Free Haven's already small store of first-aid supplies.
Octavia looked around for help. Everyone was either wounded or occupied on urgent business— except for the Terran military. Indignant, she strode up to where the self-satisfied general sat in his folding command chair in the town plaza, directing military operations.
“The colonists are dying,” she announced. “We need medical supplies and personnel.”
General Duke hardly glanced at her. “My men are busy. We've got to set up the base camp.”
“Your men—and you, General—were sent here to help us.” Octavia was not about to give up. People were dying. Her friends were dying. She locked her gaze with the general's, refusing to be ignored.
Finally he dispatched a dozen more of his cruiser's field medics to assist in the operations and had another medic fetch an entire crate of field hospital supplies. Octavia knew Duke did it more to get rid of her than out of humanitarian concerns. For now, though, all she cared about was results.
The Marines of Alpha Squadron trundled down the Battlecruisers' loading ramps with a dozen SCVs to gather vital minerals and stock up on Vespene gas (since Octavia herself had been forced to obliterate the town's fuel depot).
Octavia splinted Jon's broken leg and moved on to a shocked twelve-year-old boy who had lost a lot of blood. She gave him an infusion of plasma and a potent pain reliever. Then she glanced up and watched with curiosity as a ruddy-faced Mayor Nikolai marched toward Duke, bony fists balled, scrawny arms bent as if for the first time in his life he could imagine punching someone.
“General, your men are gutting our buildings. They've stolen engines and supplies from our homes, and now you've sent them out on vehicles to raid our farm dwellings! We've survived the Zerg only to be plundered by our so-called rescuers. How dare you! Explain yourself.”
General Duke scowled. “You called for us to rescue you, Mayor. Alpha Squadron was in the midst of a difficult conflict in orbit, but we broke free, landed here, and saved your collective butts. I'd think you'd be a bit more grateful.”
Mayor Nik spluttered. “Of course we're grateful. But if we die from the Zerg today or die from starvation a month from now, we'll still all be dead.”
“Now, now, Mayor. Before Alpha Squadron departs we can leave you some of our prepackaged Meals Ready to Eat. Why, I'm sure we've got a couple thousand thermal packs of Chipped Beef Deluxe that are close to their expiration dates.”
Nik protested, but the general waved him away. “I assure you, we're only doing what is necessary to accomplish our objective. Alpha Squadron has its orders, you know. We've done our best to help you and these dirt farmers out, but I've got an enemy to defeat and an alien artifact to claim in the name of the emperor.” He turned a baleful look on the mayor and scratched his stubbly jowl. “I warn you, don't interfere with my men, or I'll commandeer another one of your town buildings and use it as a brig.”
