Shadow of the Xel'Naga, page 7
It had been good training for her. But Kerrigan had been betrayed by the humans she served, who had left her for dead on the Zerg-infested battlefield of Tarsonis. The woman who had been Sarah Kerrigan became the Queen of Blades, and she alone held the future of the Zerg.
If she could control them.
The signal continued, relentless. From the outer regions of the spreading Hive, she could hear the vibrating bellows of an Ultralisk as it roared its confusion and fear. She calmed the mammoth-sized monster, then moved on to other minions that were causing too much destruction. With an iron hand, she forced discipline upon her hive again.
Finally the pulsing signal-scream stopped. Blessed, frightening silence fell like an avalanche onto the Hive. Kerrigan drew a deep breath, letting her biological systems settle, feeling the Hive return to a normal, but still agitated, state. Then she began to think.
The transmitted siren song spoke to some involuntary instinctive memory that the Xel'Naga had planted inside them. The Queen of Blades knew deep within her own mutated body that the origin of this signal must be incredibly ancient, designed by the same race that had created the Protoss and the Zerg.
Though she used much of her mind to keep watch on the restless race of the Zerg—billions upon billions of creatures—she let part of her thoughts ponder what she had experienced. She knew that the Zerg must investigate—must possess —whatever had sent this powerful signal.
Finally reaching a decision, Kerrigan summoned all the components of the finest new brood she had assembled after the destruction of the Overmind. She had a mission for Kukulkan Brood, which she had named after the powerful Mayan feathered serpent god from the ancient Terran legends. She considered the title to be fearsome and fitting. Kukulkan Brood was one of the most fearsome assault swarms in the scattered Zerg race. She could depend on them.
When Kukulkan Brood was assembled, with all its Overlords, Mutalisks, Hydralisks, Zerglings, Ultralisks, Queens, and Drones—everything necessary for an impressive assault force—Kerrigan dispatched them from the smoking ruins of Char to fly across space like deadly insects.
Her orders, made perfectly clear even to the murky minds of the various Zerg minions, were to find the object that had sent the signal—and take possession of it at all costs.
CHAPTER 12
THE FREE HAVEN MEETING HALL WAS CROWDED once again with confused and disgruntled colonists. This time, though, they needed no one to tell them that things were changing on Bhekar Ro. Things that could affect their lives. Things over which they had no control.
And this time, with the exception of a few children too young to understand what was going on, every colonist was there, even families from outlying farmsteads.
Octavia sat in the front row close to the speaking platform. Many of the younger colonists had chosen to sit near her for support, including Jon, Gregor, Wes, and Kiernan and Kirsten Warner. On Octavia's right sat Cyn McCarthy. The young woman's copper hair hung limply around her somber face as if she had not washed it for several days. And the usual optimism had faded from her dark blue eyes; that scared Octavia the most.
Octavia could sense that the worst of the crisis was yet to come. The Bhekar Ro colonists would need every gram of stubbornness and determination they could muster to get through it. When Mayor Nikolai hopped onto the speaking platform, Octavia was surprised at how quickly the room quieted.
“Now then, we're tough people, and we've been through a lot,” he began. “And for a long time we've prided ourselves on being just about unshakable. We deal with weather disasters, tectonic disturbances, plagues, and unexpected deaths, taking it all in stride and moving on. But in the last few days we've seen some things that fall completely outside our understanding. In all our years on Bhekar Ro, we've never had the need to deal with hostile aliens. In other words, we need to prepare for the unexpected.”
Rastin the prospector stood up. “Kind of ridiculous to say that, don't you think, Mayor Nik? How can we prepare if we don't know what we're preparing for?”
Shayna Bradshaw spoke next. “If you mean we need to defend ourselves, we don't have any decent weapons. We're colonists—we've got field implements and the occasional projectile gun for shooting game.” She gave an emphatic nod of her head. “Not that this planet has any game worth shooting!”
Anger flared in Octavia. “First a huge artifact disintegrates my brother and then sends a beam out into space. Then our Missile Turret comes to life and shoots an alien object out of the sky. It could be a message, a weapon, or a spy. We need to prepare for an emergency. That weird transmission has attracted some attention, and we don't know what's coming next. So I suggest we start thinking about what we can do and stop whining about what we don't know or don't have.”
As Octavia subsided onto the bench beside her friends, she was surprised to see Cyn rise to her feet. “What about those Terrans you contacted, Nik? Can we expect help from them? Aren't they coming soon?”
A perplexed frown creased Mayor Nikolai's forehead. “The Terran Dominion, ah, yes. Their emperor said he would send someone immediately.” He thought for a moment and then flushed. “Of course, that was days ago. And even if they're on their way, we don't know if they'll arrive before the next alien thing shows up in the sky over our heads.”
Cyn straightened her shoulders, and Octavia saw a look of fierce determination sparkling in her eyes. “In that case, we'll just have to get ready to fend for ourselves.”
Kiernan Warner stood now. “What about the explosives we use for leveling fields and for mining? Couldn't we use those as some sort of weapon?”
A murmur of approval and hope rippled through the room. Wes bounced to his feet. “Hey, and most of us own pulse pistols that we use for hunting lizards.”
His cousin Jon stood next. “I'm pretty good with machinery. Maybe between us, Octavia and I can do something about fixing the Missile Turret in the main square.”
Octavia shot him an approving grin. Things were getting better by the moment. “My robo-harvester has a boulder-blaster on it, and a lot of the others have flamethrower attachments. Those could do some pretty significant damage.”
Old Rastin interrupted the flow of positive suggestions. “You're all a bunch of lame-brained Vespene wasters, if you ask me. Half-buried artifacts, alien ships—are you really convinced we're being invaded? Who do you think these aliens are, anyway? Truth is, we don't know what's going on, and until we do, I'm not gonna sit around here on my butt just yakkin' about it.” He pushed past several people toward the exit. “And don't expect me to be givin' all of you free Vespene gas just because y'all think the sky is falling.” He gave a grunt of disgust, stalked to the exit, and let himself out.
Mayor Nikolai stood for a moment open-mouthed at the old man's audacity before pulling himself together. “Well, of course we shouldn't panic. Mr. Rastin has a point. After all, Emperor Mengsk of the Terran Dominion has been apprised of the situation, and help is probably on its way. . . .” His voice trailed off.
Unwilling to see the settlers slip back into complacency, Octavia stepped up onto the platform beside the mayor. “Nik's right. This is not a time to panic. It's time to do something constructive.” She smiled as Cyn and her other friends joined her on the platform to show their support. “We've all heard some things we can do to prepare ourselves for what might be coming.”
The crowd rumbled its approval and headed back out toward their homes and farms.
CHAPTER 13
ON THE BRIDGE DECK OF THE QEL'HA, EXECUTOR Koronis studied the high-resolution images in fascinated silence. The Observer drone transmitted view after view of the magnificent organic structure. The curves and angles gave the uncovered artifact the appearance of a cathedral built by overambitious insects. Swirls and curves, glowing lights, an obviously complex, unfathomable design.
Judicator Amdor stood beside him, radiating excitement and eagerness—a great change from the dour skepticism he had shown for the past several years of their fruitless search.
Koronis was fascinated to see the jagged shards of transparent gleaming rock that protruded from the rubbled terrain all around the exposed object. “Those are Khaydarin crystals,” he said, trying to imagine the sheer power that fragments of such size would possess. He recalled the tingle of energy he experienced whenever he touched the tiny shard he kept in his private quarters. Even without the secrets of the strange artifact, massive crystals such as these would be an important weapon and resource for the Protoss.
Amdor seemed more intrigued by the strange shapes and runes marked around the outer shell. “Those clues, plus the original encrypted signal, are undeniable proof that this object had its origin with the Wanderers from Afar. We have found a legacy of the Xel'Naga.”
The Judicator shed his blazing glare upon all the other Protoss on the Qel'Ha's bridge. His mental being thrummed with enthusiasm, which affected the other Khalai, inspiring them to greater fervor. “We must retrieve this treasure left by our forefathers, the Xel'Naga.” Acting as if he were the commander of the fleet, Amdor gestured forward. “Proceed with all possible haste! We must take possession of this artifact and preserve it for our people.”
Executor Koronis stiffened. Amdor had no place in the caste hierarchy to give such an order. So he repeated the order himself, as if the instructions had come from him all along. “We will not be going home immediately. Yes, even though Aiur has suffered in a terrible war, a discovery such as this may help the First Born rise again.”
Amdor stared down at the images once more. “The Zerg infestation encroaches upon Protoss space, and though they share our origin with the Xel'Naga, we First Born can never accept them as brethren. We dare not allow the Zerg to capture this artifact or any knowledge it contains. The legacy of the Xel'Naga must belong to us.”
The distant Observer continued its survey, sending fresh images of the unremarkable world of Bhekar Ro. Executor Koronis was surprised to see the organized Terran colony and the structures erected by the small group of human settlers trying to scrape out an existence there.
However, when the old Missile Turret activated itself and shot the cloaked drone out of the sky, the Executor reared back in his command seat as if the shot had been fired at him personally. The blast incinerated the delicate sensors on the Observer's wide arrays, and the reconnaissance drone crashed.
The loss of the Observer annoyed Judicator Amdor—not because of any insignificant Terran threat, but because he would receive no more images of the Xel'Naga artifact until their ship arrived at the colony world.
“Once we reach the planet, perhaps we should proceed with caution,” Koronis said. “We do not know how much military prowess these Terrans have, or what sort of defenses they can mount against us. I suggest we drop our fleet back and enter the system more slowly so that we can reassess the situation.”
Now the Judicator turned his ire on Koronis. “Unnecessary! You saw the images. It's a fledgling colony, with only a few scraps of technology. Besides, they are human. Terrans are irrelevant.”
Koronis conceded the point, and the Qel'Ha launched forward along with the rest of the expeditionary force, streaking through space at the highest speed possible.
The Executor reviewed the images the Observer had transmitted, staring down at the haunting, fascinating Xel'Naga structure. After missing the great battle to protect Aiur and failing in their search to find the Dark Templar, Koronis believed that this artifact could accomplish the third part of their mission. Perhaps this would be a redemption for him.
CHAPTER 14
OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS, WHILE THE colonists prepared for another impending emergency, Octavia found herself growing more and more restless. The tension at the back of her mind kept growing. She felt a presence there, as if something alive were trying to communicate with her.
Another premonition? Or just her imagination?
If not for the strange events of the past week, she might have dismissed the uneasy feeling, but she knew it was more than that. She still mourned the loss of her brother Lars, but it was not his ghost or his presence that hovered so insistently at the edge of her awareness.
The tension continued to build like slow psychic pressure until it became unbearable. She worked her fields alone. She had already gathered her small hand weapons and donated what spare food supplies she had to the community kitchen Abdel Bradshaw was organizing.
There had been no sign of reinforcements from the Terran Dominion, and no one in the colony had reported any alien ships or artifacts.
But still, the dread and uneasiness hammered at her mind, making her jump at shadows.
Finally Octavia could take it no more. Hardly knowing what she intended to do, she climbed into the robo-harvester and set off toward the artifact. She needed to see it again, confront it somehow, and find some answers.
All the way there she felt a thread, a growing connection to the thing at a subconscious, almost telepathic level. Could the artifact itself be alive?
With each clank of the robo-harvester's heavy treads, she could feel it, hear it. Something sleeping, stirring. Something enormous and alien.
It had seemed to devour Lars—absorb him, perhaps—and then it had seemed to find him wanting. Yes, the presence in her mind seemed to say. It hungered. It needed to feed on life.
But not Terran life. Something . . . different.
As the robo-harvester descended into the second valley and rolled across the basin toward the slope where the artifact lay half unburied, the feeling of hunger grew stronger, more insistent. Hunger for life.
Angrily, Octavia tried to push the presence out of her head. If it didn't want Terran life, why had it killed her brother? The thing had casually murdered him and then—what? Discarded his essence? She didn't know, and it no longer mattered to her. All that mattered was that Lars was dead because of this thing.
She brought the robo-harvester to a halt at the base of the slope and stared at the enormous, eerie artifact with a hard, calculating gaze. Hungry, was it? Well, she had a hunger too—for vengeance. And she needed to do something practical for a change.
From the cockpit of the robo-harvester she powered up the boulder-blaster. She herself had suggested at the town meeting that it could be used as a weapon. Well, now she was going to find out.
Octavia took careful aim and triggered the small explosive launcher that was normally reserved for clearing boulders from fields. She held on and watched, already feeling satisfied.
The blast struck its target dead on. The familiar explosion was loud and powerful, smashing many of the tall crystals that grew like weeds in the rubble. A rain of pebbles and dirt pattered around the robo-harvester for nearly a full minute.
When Octavia was sure the shower of dirt was over, she cleared the robo-harvester's windshield and peered out to survey the damage she had done.
There was none. Not a scratch.
If anything, the artifact appeared glossier . . . healthier than before. Octavia had only succeeded in clearing more caked soil from its exterior. As she stared in frustrated fascination, the artifact began to pulse. The forest of surrounding crystals lit with an inner fire. Crackling energy skittered across the smooth, sinuous surface of the thing, flashing and growing in intensity until threads of lightning wove themselves together into a solid beam that speared out at the robo-harvester.
She yelled and ducked, covering her eyes.
The retaliatory bolt hit the heavy vehicle like a meteor. Octavia grabbed the seat inside the cab and held on as the robo-harvester rocked on its treads. She wanted to dive outside for cover, but decided that might be even more dangerous.
The vehicle's control panels sparked and sizzled. The alien artifact continued its pummeling lightning blast, as if to make certain its message was received. Octavia's hair lifted away from her head, alive with static electricity. She let out another loud yell, halfway between a panicked scream and a curse, at the towering object in the cliffside.
Finally the blast ended, leaving her half deafened and the big machine completely dead. Her eyes swam with brilliant smears of color from the dazzling lights. Ozone and smoke filled the cabin, and crackling steam drifted up from the harvester's engine compartment.
Octavia scrambled out of the cab, burning her hands and the side of one leg on the hot metal. In awe, she backed away from the damaged vehicle. She could tell by looking at it that there would be no way to repair the behemoth. The electrical systems were completely gone, and many of the moving parts had fused. The vehicle would never start.
But at least she was alive.
The artifact had destroyed the robo-harvester, though it had not harmed her, even after she had knowingly attacked it. What did it mean? Octavia shook her head and chided herself for having tried something so foolish.
Running a hand through her brown curls, she looked behind her at the sun lowering toward the horizon. It would be a long, long walk home.
CHAPTER 15
AS HER SHIP MOVED THROUGH THE VOID OF space, the Dark Templar Xerana sat surrounded by her intellectual resources, the library and museum she had compiled. Her treasures.
She had no need for sleep now that she had a mystery in her grasp.
Xerana had received and recorded the loud signal from the distant and unremarkable world. She had studied the transmission, searching for nuances, trying to decode it. She took the ancient, incomprehensible electromagnetic patterns and organized them into layers of subtle meaning. She doubted many others alive in the entire galaxy would be able to fathom such things.
But the Dark Templar scholars had access to resources and arcane Xel'Naga texts. She knew scraps of history that the rest of the Protoss had forgotten long ago. Xerana alone, among all her race, had the best chance of deciphering the true meaning and origin of this alien transmission.
