Shadow of the Xel'Naga, page 4
The general sat back in his command chair, watching the remaining tedious operations taking place out in the asteroid belt. A military leader must always remain focused on his goal. He did not neglect attention to details. A conflict could be won or lost because of a tiny item that someone had overlooked.
Alpha Squadron had always prided itself on being the first military unit into a fight, and also the first group out. Right now, though, there was no place to go. Even when the mineral and Vespene operations were completed in the asteroids and the ships withdrew to begin their slow journey through space again, General Duke knew that nothing exciting would happen.
He retired to his quarters after turning over command to a surprised Lieutenant Scott. He saw no tactical advantage to their current mission and decided to take some time to hone his skills.
General Duke spent the next three days at his own computer screens, challenging himself with exciting tactical war games in order to sharpen his edge. He played scenario after scenario, beating the computer every time.
Still, he was getting tired of nothing happening. He was, after all, a man of action.
CHAPTER 6
OCTAVIA AND LARS STOOD AT THE BASE OF THE steep, crumbled slope where great rocks and cascades of soil had broken away and tumbled down to expose the alien object.
Octavia leaned against the robo-harvester. Brownish gray dirt fell away from the side of the gigantic tractor. Running a hand through her brown curls, she continued to assess the ominous, pulsing construction from a distance. But Lars, as usual, bounded ahead, his eagerness and curiosity overwhelming his common sense.
Her brother had always wanted to be first, to run the fastest, to build the tallest structure, to reach the top of the hill before Octavia or their few other young settler companions could. Now Lars used hands and feet to clamber up the sharp, raw edges of rock that had fallen down during the previous night's storm and earthquake.
She followed him, her breath coming heavy in the sour-smelling air. The freshly overturned dirt had an odd taint, as if it had spoiled long ago. The colonists knew from experience that only a few crops could survive in Bhekar Ro's soil. Octavia was used to the smell, of course, and rarely noticed it except after a hard rain. In filmbooks, she had seen lush agricultural worlds, verdant fields heavy with crops. She never knew whether to believe such fantasies.
Now she climbed after her brother, her hands and clothes growing dirty. Dirt was just another part of their harsh daily lives as farmers.
“Hey, look at this!” Lars called, and in a few moments she had clambered up closer to the smooth, curving walls of the bizarre structure.
Protruding from the newly exposed area were giant snowflake crystals, shards of transparent material that seethed with strange energy, each fragment longer than her arm. Octavia pressed one hand against the slick surface, finding it achingly cold, but not icy. A strange sensation like an electric tingle ran through the whorls of her palm and fingertips as if some energy were mapping her cellular structure and studying it.
“Now these are interesting,” Lars said, his hazel eyes alive with wonder. “What do you think we could use them for? I bet we could take a full load of these crystals back on the robo-harvester.”
“Why? To make giant necklaces for the old farmwives?” Octavia said, pulling her hand away from the crystalline formation. Her fingers continued to tingle.
Lars grinned his cocky grin. “I don't know about those farmwives, but I have a feeling Cyn McCarthy might like one.”
Octavia raised her eyebrows. So, her independent brother had actually noticed that the pretty young widow was interested in him romantically. Far be it from Octavia to discourage him. Maybe he wasn't as dense as she had thought!
“All right, Lars, I admit the crystals might be useful. But before you start making grandiose plans, let's be practical, here—just for a few minutes, please? I suggest we look around. And be careful not to change anything until we understand more.”
Lars grinned at her and climbed up the slope again toward the gleaming, labyrinthine structure. “Well, the way to find out more is to do some poking around. Let's split up and we can cover more ground.”
“Splitting up is never a good idea,” Octavia said, knowing the warning would be ignored by her enthusiastic brother.
“You be careful, and I'll be careful,” he said, “and we'll be back in time to fix the seismographs by midday.”
Octavia clamped her lips together and didn't bother to contradict him. She wasn't worried about the seismographs in the least.
The beautiful crystalline protrusions stuck out all around them at odd angles like the spines of a ruffled urchin lizard. Lars moved toward the eerie facade of the object itself, fascinated by the mysteries that drew him.
Octavia moved more slowly, pausing to study the crystals, trying to understand how they grew, where they came from. It seemed as if they had been planted around this buried object as . . . markers? Defenses? Some sort of message?
Puffing and sweating, though the effort did not diminish his exuberant grin, Lars reached the strange swirling shapes that formed the walls and openings of the giant object. The structural material was a pearles-cent green, lit from within like some sort of hardened bioluminescent slime. He stood back, appraising the enormous structure. From his furrowed brow and quickly moving eyes, Octavia could tell that her brother wasn't trying to understand the artifact, but was merely trying to choose the best means of getting inside.
Lars touched the exposed material. All of the soil and dust had flaked off, as if the object had a kind of static charge that repelled grime and dirt. He rapped against the wall with his knuckles, then held up his hand. “It sort of tingles. I can't tell if the material is plastic or glass or some kind of organic extrusion. Interesting.”
“You promised to be careful,” she called. “And I've got a bad feeling about this.”
He looked down at her with raised eyebrows. “You always have bad feelings, Octavia.”
Her brother dismissed her concerns, but then Lars had never been as sensitive as she was. Octavia often had a knack for foreseeing events, for feeling when to avoid a certain situation. She had no hard proof, of course, but she was confident that her premonitions were correct. “And when have I ever been wrong, Lars?”
He didn't answer.
She knelt by one of the largest crystals and touched it again, running her hands over the slick surface. The odd cold tingle of energy called out to her, trying to communicate something that she couldn't comprehend. Overall, around this entire structure, Octavia felt a brooding, sleeping presence, something indescribable, buried and not yet awakened.
A frisson of inexplicable energy touched her mind, but she didn't know how to pursue the feeling, to explore it. It was an odd probing sensation, but whatever produced the feeling clearly didn't understand her or recognize her humanity.
Octavia swallowed hard in a dry throat and withdrew from the powerful crystal. The connection in her mind faded, but did not go entirely away.
Lars happily continued his explorations, poking his head into the smaller openings and then finally walking into a large, curving orifice that led deeper into the structure.
Octavia moved slowly, reaching the top and looking into the dark, cool opening where her brother had disappeared. Odd odors wafted from inside, like a rich mulch, something sizzling and alive. Though the power contained within the artifact intimidated her, she didn't feel that it was particularly evil or threatening. Just . . . unlike anything she had ever encountered before.
His voice called back to her, echoing yet damped by the solid walls of the structure. “Octavia, come in here! You won't believe the amazing things.”
She stepped forward, peering into the shadows. She heard footsteps as he came hurrying back toward her. His eyes were aglow. “These passages are studded with more crystals and other strange objects, treasures, resources! We could use a pickax or a laser cutter to chop them out of the walls.”
“You don't even know what they are, Lars,” she said.
“I'll bet they'll bring a lot of credits once we sell them.”
She didn't enter the artifact, but instead put her dirty hands on her hips. “Who would you sell them to, Lars? For what? Crops? Equipment? Nobody in Free Haven has anything to spare. And our colony hasn't traded with anybody since before you and I were born.”
Grinning, Lars lowered his voice as if afraid someone might be eavesdropping. “This goes far beyond what Bhekar Ro can handle, Octavia. I think as soon as we get back, we need to contact the Terran government. We'll be rich! Imagine what we can sell this for. Even you have to admit that this is interesting—the find of a lifetime. Our colony can acquire new equipment, new seed stock, maybe even new workers to bolster our population. We've lost so many families in the past few years.”
Octavia felt her heart sink as she remembered their dead parents and all the specialists and just plain good people who had died in the spore plagues or in natural disasters or in any number of other tragedies that had beset Bhekar Ro since its formation. She felt her brother's optimism and imagined all the wonders he had described, realizing that—for once—Lars might actually be right in his ambitions.
Then she made a disbelieving sound. Even if this artifact turned out to be something truly remarkable, meeting all of the hopeful criteria Lars envisioned, the colony's communication link with the Terran Confederacy had been left unused for thirty-five of the forty years Free Haven had existed as a human settlement. The colonists had come here to get away from Terran governments, to live for themselves and be self-sufficient. Their parents and grandparents had hated any interference or oppression, and few of the colonists would choose to call attention to themselves again.
“I don't think the others would agree, especially not Mayor Nik,” Octavia said. “I'm not convinced that even something like this is worth bringing the Confederacy back to breathe down our necks. You've heard the stories Grandfather used to tell. It could damage our way of life.”
Now Lars looked at her in astonishment. “Our way of life? Could it get any worse? Do the list of pros and cons for yourself, and you'll be convinced.” He turned around and quickly moved deeper into the glowing corridors.
Octavia followed him, still sensing the oppressive mental presence around her, feeling it grow more powerful. Lars hurried farther along, stopping to rap against walls with his fist, listening to the echo, trying to discover differences.
Striations of color ran through the walls like veins of ore . . . or maybe like the blood vessels of an alien creature. He sniffed, then studied the wall carefully. He tried to scratch it with his fingernails, but could make no mark. He shook his head and moved on.
Lars had always dreamed of being a prospector, an archaeologist, an explorer here on this largely unmapped world. But nobody on Bhekar Ro had much chance to be more than a simple farmer, working through every hour of gloomy daylight just to keep the colony functioning. Octavia didn't have the heart to drain away her brother's enjoyment right now. He had been waiting for an opportunity like this all his life.
Octavia felt a sudden reluctance to go deeper into the chambers of the artifact, as if the air were thickening around her. The odd psychic energy formed a wall, slowly pushing her back.
Lars didn't seem to feel it at all. He turned to examine an arch in the tunnel where it hooked to the left, and saw a cluster of beehive-shaped objects made of something smooth and translucent. They looked almost like large, faceted jewels that grew out of the walls.
“Come on!” Standing in the arched opening of the side tunnel, Lars reached up with one hand to the cluster. As soon as he grasped one of the brightly colored protrusions, though, the entire light and atmosphere in the artifact changed slightly. It was as if he had triggered something.
His hand remained fastened to the nodule. His face fell, and an instant later, he froze. Octavia sensed a crackle of energy flowing through him. All of the crystal shards protruding from the walls and those outside the artifact glowed brighter, as if they had been switched on.
“Lars!” she shouted.
But he couldn't move, couldn't even make a sound.
Sizzling beams shot out like lightning bolts, linking one crystal after another in a webwork. Bright light ricocheted down the corridors, blinding Octavia. She tried to move, but it all happened so fast.
Lars stood within the arched opening like an insect trapped on a microscope slide, and the brilliant beams from the crystals flooded over him like spotlights, scanning him, crashing into his body. In a flash, his skin turned completely white. His bones and his muscles glowed from inside, as if he had become a luminous substance through and through, every cell converted to pure energy.
Then the walls themselves took on the same blinding white glow, as if they were absorbing Lars down to the last atom. Suddenly the lightning stopped. All the lights faded to their former eerie dimness.
And Lars was gone. Not even a shadow remained.
Two of the large crystals outside the artifact shattered, and sparks flickered down the corridors, bursting other crystals in a chain reaction, as if Lars had been something unpalatable, a substance this artifact could not digest.
Smoke curled through the tunnels. The deafening sounds quieted, leaving only the faint echo of a scream. Octavia couldn't tell if it was the last sound made by her brother or her own wordless cry.
After a lull of less than a second, the walls brightened again, the larger crystals shimmering. Lightning bolts crackled. Lars had awakened something ominous, and Octavia wondered if his death might bring about the destruction of them all.
Octavia turned and scrambled down the smooth tunnel to the opening. Toward daylight. She ran faster, terror making her eyes wide, her mind numb. Too many things were happening. She wanted to go back and search for her brother, to see if anything of his body remained.
But her drive for self-preservation kicked in. She knew the artifact wasn't done yet.
Octavia bounded out of the opening and down the boulder-strewn slope, somehow keeping her feet under her, dropping from one rock to another, steadying herself with her hands and spreading her arms to keep her balance.
The hillside vibrated harder. Now all the large crystals that had seemed so beautiful a moment ago looked like loaded weapons, tapping energy reservoirs that summoned lightning from within their atomic structure.
Her retreat was a blur. Somehow, faster than she had ever imagined she could move, Octavia found herself back at the robo-harvester, leaning against the mud-encrusted treads. Behind her, on the steep hillside, the tall crystals ignited. Lightning bolts that sparkled like blue spiderwebs connected them all, drawing their power together and weaving it into a knot of energy until all the stray threads converged.
Finally, a beacon of sound and light—some sort of giant transmission—speared upward into the sky and far out into space. It was not directed at her at all, but somewhere distant. To something not human.
The shock wave knocked Octavia flat, sending her sprawling on the broken ground. She could barely hold on as the pulsing signal rippled and tore through the air.
Out of breath, frantic, she crawled up the treads of the robo-harvester. As she grabbed the door of the armored cab, her head throbbed and her ears rang. She threw herself inside, slammed the door, and collapsed on the seat. She could barely hear anything.
For the moment she felt protected, but not enough. Moving blindly, she started the engine of the enormous vehicle, wheeled it around on its treads, and crunched over the broken ground at top speed, sending rocks and dirt clods flying as she raced across the valley. She had to get back to Free Haven.
Octavia couldn't think straight, could not yet address in her mind what had happened to her brother, what she had seen with her own eyes.
But she knew she had to warn the other colonists.
CHAPTER 7
OUT IN DEEP SPACE, SURROUNDED BY THE MOST powerful warships of the Protoss expeditionary force, Executor Koronis sought the privacy and refuge of his own quarters aboard the flagship Carrier Qel'Ha. There he could contemplate his mission, his destiny, and the fate of his race.
He could sense through his nerve appendages all of the loyal Protoss who served aboard the ships in his fleet: the industrialists, scientists, and workers in the Khalai class; the ferociously dedicated Zealots and other soldiers in the determined warrior class, called the Templar. He even sensed the stern governmental-religious caste of Judicators, who oversaw the prosecution of this mission and maintained focus on the Khala.
But as he tried to find peace and contemplation, Koronis could feel the utter misery and failure of his entire crew. The Executor's shoulders slumped, causing the stiff pointed pads of his uniform to sag. The Protoss homeworld of Aiur had suffered a devastating attack by the Zerg and had very nearly been destroyed, but Koronis's expeditionary force had been far from the scene of carnage, far from their families and homes. They had not helped at all. They had failed. And the entire Protoss race had teetered on the brink of extinction.
It was a difficult burden to bear.
Koronis sat in his polished curved meditation seat and held in his scaly hands a small fragment of a worn but still glittering crystal. The gem merchant had told him that the ancient prophet Khas had used this shard when he discovered the telepathic Way of the Khala. The Khala had finally unified the Protoss, brought them together through their mental abilities, and ended the Aeon of Strife that had torn their civilization apart for so long.
Koronis did not know if the myth surrounding the origin of this Khaydarin crystal was true or merely a story concocted by a trader wishing to get a better price, but the Executor took comfort from the possibility. He stared into the crystal, concentrating his mental energies. His depthless golden eyes burned like small suns, looking deep within the crystal structure, far into the corners of the universe. His textured gray face rippled as he concentrated, brow ridges furrowing, ornamented shoulders hunched. His mouth-less chin remained firm.
