Shadow of the Xel'Naga, page 8
She let her ship drift, allowing the currents of the Void to carry it wherever the vagaries of gravity and solar wind and space might direct it. She played the signal over and over until every cell of her body was awash with the pulsing rhythms, until her mind was filled with the hypnotic tone—and finally, using every shred of knowledge she had in her archives, Xerana was able to comprehend the deep secret of the strange awakening object.
Roused at last from her obsessive concentration, the Dark Templar scholar felt the thrill of understanding surge through her body. But as she made her way toward the bridge of her wandering vessel, she felt weak and shaky. Xerana paused a moment to marshal her energies. She had so much to do, a mission to accomplish. Then she hurried to her controls and sank into the guidance chair, feeling as if she had become one with her craft.
Though she had translated the mysterious signal, Xerana also knew that other Protoss—and perhaps even Zerg—would have heard the beacon, too. But none of them would understand what the artifact was.
She had no choice but to do her duty.
Long ago, the Judicator Conclave had ostracized the Dark Templar. Although her people had been exiled from Aiur, driven away from the rest of their race and persecuted, Xerana and her comrades maintained their loyalty. Even now, honor required her to bear a warning, no matter the cost to herself.
Xerana powered up the engines of her Scout vessel and set off at reckless speed into the emptiness, navigating toward the coordinates she had traced as the origin of the signal. Aside from her knowledge and her confidence, she had few weapons.
She traveled alone, fully aware that other Protoss might even now be converging on the site. Any Judicator would be eager to capture a Dark Templar like herself. This journey would be very dangerous for her, but Xerana had no time for fear. She had no choice but to take the risk.
Her vessel rapidly closed the distance to Bhekar Ro.
CHAPTER 16
DISPATCHED FROM CHAR, KUKULKAN BROOD traveled across the empty vacuum between the stars. Even out in the cold darkness, their armored bodies turned the Zerg into a fleet of monstrous living spaceships. Groups of different creatures controlled by numerous Overlords, the Brood followed the directives of the Queen of Blades, who had envisioned this scheme to investigate, capture, and exploit the Xel'Naga artifact.
It would belong to the Zerg by right of conquest.
Massive Behemoths flew under their own energy, like star-spanning manta rays, the largest creatures ever known in the charted galaxy. With superdense hides, the Behemoths could contain many other Zerg minions within the folds and pockets of their sprawling bodies. These creatures had no weapons, not even any defenses, but they carried the full strength and horror of all the Zerg subspecies.
Ages ago, when the ancient Xel'Naga tinkerers had experimented with creating the Zerg, they had adapted the ferocious and highly competitive indigenous life-forms on the planet Zerus. These prototype Zerg had rapidly adapted and assimilated all of the native species there, and as their race grew more powerful and more intelligent, the fledgling Zerg Overmind had reached a critical point, a roadblock that prevented it from expanding further. The Zerg were planet-bound—until the star-sailing Behemoths had wandered into the system.
Immense and docile creatures of the airless void, the Behemoths drifted close enough that the Overmind had called out to them with its great telepathic powers. After it had lured the unsuspecting life-forms within reach, the Zerg minions had attacked and infested them. Before long, the genetic plan of the starfaring Behemoths had been incorporated into the Zerg DNA.
Thus, the fearsome Zerg developed the ability to travel from star system to star system. They became unstoppable.
Now, after being dispatched by the Queen of Blades, the Behemoths of Kukulkan Brood carried Sarah Kerrigan's strike force to Bhekar Ro. The huge creatures converged in orbit, an organic cloud that blotted out the light from distant suns. They descended lower to the veiled fringes of the atmosphere, scraping tendrils of air as their skins opened up to disgorge the Overlords, the main carriers of the Zerg forces.
The Overlords were immense creatures, exoskeleton-armored carriers shaped like ridged crustaceans with enormous mandibles and dangling claws. But even so they were dwarfed by the sprawling flesh of the Behemoths in the sky overhead. The Overlords emerged from carrying pouches and dropped in freefall through the thickening atmosphere and buffeting winds.
Since the Xel'Naga artifact had only briefly broadcast its compelling beacon, the Zerg did not know the precise location, only a general area. But the Overlords of Kukulkan Brood were patient and very thorough. Under their own power, they cruised through greasy clouds and patches of thunderstorms, scratched by lightning but unharmed.
Finally the spreading swarm arrived in the vicinity of the large artifact. Only a small portion of the Brood remained in orbit with the Behemoths, a second wave prepared to descend once the first monstrous troops had accomplished their objective.
The Overlords spread out, seeking to release groups of Drones that would establish numerous Hatcheries and then several Creep Colonies. The heart of the new Zerg colony, the Hatchery would generate enough larvae to spawn all the minions Kukulkan Brood would need to take over this planet.
The Overlords would overwhelm the mysterious artifact itself and seize what could be taken. But first, in preparation, they intended to find local victims, organisms that the Zerg could infest, and thereby increase their numbers. . . .
* * *
Though he had set up his dwelling and his gas refineries over the Vespene geysers, far from the town, the old prospector Rastin had been seeing too much of people for the past week. First Lars and Octavia Bren had come by to get more fuel, then he'd been called into Free Haven for not one but two all-colony meetings.
He had grudgingly driven his only vehicle—a clunky old field crawler—into town. That was more socialization than he liked to do in a year. On both occasions he'd stayed for only a few hours before driving back to his refineries and his dog, Old Blue.
But after the last storm and earthquake, one of his three remaining geysers had given out, and no matter how much he poked and probed and kicked at his machinery, he could not get the thing functioning again. He had heard that there were several new geysers over the ridge and into the next valley, but Rastin had lived in the same place for almost forty years and just didn't have the gumption to pack up his belongings and move out there.
Although the idea of being even farther away from Free Haven had its appeal. . . .
Old Blue came out from his cool resting spot under the corrugated porch and sniffed around. The big mutated mastiff stood almost as tall as his master's chest. Rastin had originally hoped to turn the horse-like canine, with its bristly blue fur and an appetite like an elephant, into a beast of burden. Man's best friend combined with a draft animal to haul mineral samples and supplies. Instead, the dog was just a companion, a big, lovable creature that drooled a lot and growled occasionally, but never meant it.
Rastin distractedly patted the dog, who galloped around looking for urchin lizards or crab beetles to chase. Once he'd gotten a muzzleful of needles from an urchin lizard, and the dog knew better than to bite when he played.
Rastin banged at the refinery equipment with his worn old tools, grumbling and cursing the engines. But the machinery was not impressed, even with his harshest language. He stood in disgust, hurled his spanner wrench off into the rocks as far as it would go, then berated himself for doing such a stupid thing, because now he'd have to go fetch it.
Beside him, he was surprised when Old Blue sat on his haunches and howled up at the sky. The big blue dog's lips curled back, exposing his teeth as he growled and then whined.
“Now what?” Rastin said. “You afraid of a little mound-hopper again, you big sissy?”
But Old Blue did not calm down. He continued to growl, then lowered himself on all fours and began to wriggle backward, as if to slink away. Rastin looked up and saw a swarm of shapes in the sky, a flock of creatures—unbelievably large creatures—descending through the clouds and moving like an armada of organic battleships. “What the—?”
With an ominous buzzing sound like a hive of infuriated wasps, the swarm of invaders came down, dozens of armored and multilegged creatures that split apart, some of them descending toward the foothills where Rastin made his home.
The Vespene geysers continued to boil and steam into the air, advertising their resources. They seemed to attract the strange alien invaders. Old Blue yelped and finally ran out of canine courage. He bolted back under the corrugated porch to hide in the shadows.
Summoning his surly anger to combat a paralyzing blast of fear, Rastin lunged into his shack and grabbed an old blunderbuss projectile launcher, a pellet weapon that he used for picking off rodents that ate too many of his stores. He came out and held up the weapon, gritting his teeth in defiance.
The Zerg Overlords dropped low over the foothills, approaching the vital Vespene geysers. Their carapaces cracked open and released a rain of hideous monsters that seemed to be all spines and armored exoskeletons and clacking jaws. As the Zerglings poured out in a stampede of vicious claws and fangs, Rastin stood his ground for a moment, then backed toward his shack.
Behind the Overlords, a new type of creature descended—a mass of thrashing armored tentacles, a sinuous head, and a stretched skin membrane that extended like bat wings to connect some of the tentacles.
A Queen. And it seemed intent on coming directly toward him.
Rastin discharged his first round of hot metal pellets into the oncoming swarm, reloaded, and fired again. He knew his weapon was too weak, knew that in a thousand years he could never find enough ammunition to fight off this threat, but he swore and fired again. And again. When he had no pellets left, he hurled curses as the ravenous Zerglings swept toward him like a tidal wave of death.
And then they were upon him.
CHAPTER 17
OCTAVIA DID NOT LIKE TO BE OUT ON FOOT AT night, but with the robo-harvester unable to function, she had no choice but to walk. She traversed the many kilometers across the valley, climbed up over the ridge panting and sweating, skipped through the scree, and stumbled her way back down toward the colony town.
She hated every second of it.
The ground was uncertain, full of shadows and hidden potholes, crevices between rocks that seemed to reach out and grab her feet. If she twisted an ankle, she would have to limp all the way back to Free Haven.
The night was dark, the skies murky and overcast. Clouds smothered the stars, but at least they held no storms. Strange flashes of light rippled across the sky like auroras or distant lightning, but the colors and energy patterns were different from the exotic weather fronts she normally witnessed on Bhekar Ro.
Too many strange things were happening lately.
She increased her pace down through the foothills, glad to see the dim lights of old Rastin's Vespene refinery. The reclusive prospector probably wouldn't welcome company, especially this late at night, but Octavia had no choice. He had a vehicle, a Vespene-powered field crawler that had endured for decades. Maybe he could give her a ride into town.
If nothing else, Old Blue would be happy to see her, and after the miserable times she had just endured, it would be a relief just to pat his bristly fur and see his thick tail wag with delight.
She stumbled onto a path the hermit must have used. With relief she worked her way down toward the homestead, feeling a spring in her step from the hope that her ordeal might be over soon.
As she approached, Octavia saw only a few automatic lights burning around the refinery superstructures, lending a strange silvery glow to the Vespene geysers that curled into the air. The place seemed abandoned, haunted. . . . Perhaps old Rastin had already gone to bed. She had no idea what time it was.
“Hello, Rastin?” she called. “It's Octavia Bren.” She paused, but only silence answered her. Even the fiddler beetles and the throaty humming lizards were silent in the night—which was very strange. It made the darkness seem more oppressive.
“Hello, Rastin? I need your help.”
Although she normally would have walked up to his door and pounded, this uncharacteristic silence made her uneasy. Reclusive Rastin was unpredictable at times, and it wasn't hard to imagine that he might come out with his weapon to “defend” his home against late-night intruders. She didn't want to get a backside full of rodent shot.
She drew closer, her eagerness dwindling. “Hello? Is anybody home?” At least she expected Old Blue to start barking at her. If anything, the silence grew heavier.
She wondered if perhaps Mayor Nik had called another colony meeting. In that case, Rastin might have gone to the village, taking Old Blue with him. Yes, that was probably the answer.
When she saw his vehicle sitting by itself in a clearing not far from his shack, she knew her explanation was wrong. The old man never went anywhere without his vehicle, so he must be home. This didn't make any sense at all. Her stomach filled with the ice of growing dread.
Inside her head, she felt a rising static, an echoing clamor of countless alien voices, discrete entities but somehow all the same. Her skin crawled. What did it mean? She had felt something similar—the strange background hubbub of an alien presence—back at the buried artifact that had disintegrated Lars and wrecked her robo-harvester.
But this was . . . different somehow. More evil. Menacing. Hungry.
Approaching the prospector's dwelling, she saw that the broken rocky ground was now covered with a creeping film, thick and slimy like a carpet of biomass. The substance was an organic growing mat that spread out from the Vespene geysers, the refinery, and the shack itself.
She bent down to touch it and was immediately sorry. Her fingers felt soiled, as if she'd never be able to wipe the feeling off. The creeping mat smelled of rot and decay, unlike any vegetation that had ever grown here on Bhekar Ro. The carpet of biomass flexed and grew and expanded even as she watched.
On bare patches of dirt where the growing mat had not yet spread, she saw scratches—sharp, clawed footprints of several varieties, as if a mob of insectlike monsters had swarmed over the site.
Concern for Rastin overcame her fear, and she tiptoed closer to the prospector's house. Silence still reigned. She called out one more time, ready to run as her deep-seated uneasiness swelled to a terror pitch.
“Rastin? Please answer me.”
As she stepped on the creaking sheet of corrugated metal that formed the porch, she heard something stir beneath it and saw a large creature moving in the shadows. “Old Blue!” she called, mentally telling herself to be relieved, though she felt no decrease in tension.
She backed away when she saw a flash of matted sky-blue fur and rippling muscles as the beast hauled itself out from the shadows where it lurked. And though it had once been Old Blue, the giant mutated dog was now something else entirely.
It was infested.
Spines thrust from its back. Above each leg, jointed, armored limbs sprouted from its shoulders, ending in clacking claws. Old Blue's original eyes had sunken in, and a new set—four of them—protruded on waving stalks, sweeping around to focus on Octavia. It curled its lips back, showing fangs that had grown into tusks. The drool that boiled out of its rabid mouth was thick and gelatinous, like a green acidic slime.
Now Octavia heard more things stirring around the homestead, bodies moving about. The dog-thing made a deep liquid roar in its throat, and Octavia stumbled away. Old Blue's paws split open to reveal a new set of claws as large as scimitars, and its muscles coiled like well-oiled pulleys and cables.
Octavia turned to run into the darkness. Old Blue lunged after her.
CHAPTER 18
THE PLANET DID NOT LOOK LIKE MUCH AS THE Qel'Ha approached, flanked by the Protoss expeditionary fleet. But appearances hardly mattered. Right now Executor Koronis was interested only in the origin of the signal that had summoned the Protoss here. The Xel'Naga message.
Judicator Amdor stood beside him, glaring out the viewports with his orange-yellow eyes. He seemed to believe he could conquer the blistered brown-and-green world below through sheer force of will alone.
“I want no failures, Executor. Not this time,” Amdor said sternly, his telepathic message sloppy enough that others on the flagship's bridge could hear the undertone of threat. This annoyed Koronis. Bad for morale.
Smug in their position of political and religious power, Judicators often did not understand how the rest of the Khalai responded to undercurrents and subtleties. But Koronis would not provoke a confrontation now. Such matters were better dealt with behind telepathic shielded walls, so that even the loudest arguments and mental shouts could not be picked up by others aboard the ship.
That conflict could wait until later. He had a more important mission now.
“We will maintain a defensive fleet in orbit,” he said. “Three Carriers will track our position from the high ground while the rest will descend to claim the Xel'Naga object. We do not know if we will encounter any resistance.” He looked around the bridge, felt the excitement and loyalty thrumming through his crew.
“I will send Scouts first to clear out any resistance, while Shuttles will follow immediately behind to carry our Zealots, Dragoons, and enough Reavers to maintain supremacy on the ground. Judicator Amdor and I will ride down in the lead Arbiter, while other Judicators will take twenty more Arbiters and provide shields and cloaking cover for our forces.”
Amdor looked annoyed that the Executor had not consulted him first, but nodded his smooth, grayish head, agreeing with his own role in the important operation.
Like falcons, the Scouts separated from the remainder of the fleet in space and streaked down through the atmosphere of Bhekar Ro. Aboard the high-speed fighters, dual photon blasters and batteries of antimatter missiles were armed and ready for resistance.
