“What’s it like to be home, General?” Calhoon asked.
“Shut up,” Conrad answered. “Good to see you’re out of surgery.”
“Good to see you’re alive. I knew you were no good, can’t even martyr yourself right.”
Conrad sneered at her. He was about to come back with some retort, but abruptly turned all business. He stood from his table overlooking the dirt streets of New Antioch, and tossed Calhoon a pad with several images on it. “I was bored while you were talking with Artanis,” he said, “so I drew up some plans to modify the entire fleet to compensate for the alien technology.”
Calhoon scanned the pictures. “What are these?”
Conrad turned the pad away from her slightly, and started pointing to it randomly. “Plans to adapt Protoss weapons and shielding technology to our power systems. I think, with time, we can attach shield projectors to all of the ships and fighters. Captain King already suggested mounting missile pylons to the capital ships, and if we add Protoss neutron weapons to the Firestorms, we can effectively double our light ship force.”
“The Praetor said the alien ships have some kind of electromagnetic filed around their ships. Particle weapons are useless,” Calhoon said.
Conrad raised a finger, “Yes, but only charged particles! Corsair fire passed right through the fields before.”
Calhoon put the pad in her pocket. “I’m going back up to the fleet. I’ll have them start work on the shield modifications right now. I’m going to hold off on the weapons for now.”
Conrad shrugged, and turned back to the view. After a tense few moments, Calhoon cleared her throat. “Look… I, ah… I owe you an apology.”
“How’s that work?” Conrad said, “I push you off the deep end, and you apologize to me?”
“The doctor explained it to me,” she said, “I know I’m not a particularly pleasant person to be around,”
Conrad gave a sharp laugh, which Calhoon struggled to ignore, “I had no right to—Know what? This is bullshit! I don’t owe you a damn thing. I outrank you, so I can talk to you however I damn well please! And if the doctor doesn’t like that, he can stick it up his cybernetic ass, if has one!”
Conrad smiled broadly. “Now that’s the Admiral I know!” he said.
Calhoon stormed away, fuming and swearing.
***
A young Protoss, rushed up to him. “Are you Conrad?”
“It’s Conrad. And yes,” he answered.
“I am Elari. Artanis sent me here to speak with you,” the Protoss answered.
Conrad extended his hand, then snatched it back when he remembered the completely different connotation of the handshake in Protoss society. “About what?”
Elari paused slightly, and cocked his head. “Oh, yes! Your Admiral told him about your plans to modify your fleet. Artanis wants a list of materials you will need.”
Conrad sifted through his pockets, and found a copy of the pad he’d given Calhoon. He checked the pad, and handed it to Elari.
Elari turned the device over in his hands, not really sure what to do with it. “Artanis said he will send a Khalai crew to assist in the modifications,” he said. He stood there for a moment, trying to remember what else he was supposed to say. “That’s all,” he said, abruptly turning and leaving.
Conrad shook his head, and went back to staring at the empty streets. He had never thought that Protoss could be as scatter-brained as Terrans.
***
The chop-job New Antiga spacehopper gave a final violent lurch as it passed out of the atmosphere. The small cabin visibly deformed around them. Calhoon clutched the arms of her flight couch, as if the entire thing would move on without her. In between the various noises of the ship, she was saying, “With Kane dead, I’ve taken command of his force. I think it’s time we restructure our command.”
The pilot made a brief announcement on the intercom. “All passengers, there will be a slight delay before we arrive at the shipyards. Note that we may experience loss of atmosphere or other minor difficulties during the rest of the flight. Thank you for flying Antigan Lines.”
“Minor difficulties?” King said.
Conrad smiled evilly. “I’ve flown on these things before. They use Confederate safety standards. No Antigan Lines flight has ever failed to arrive at its destination.”
“ How many passengers have failed to survive the flight?” King asked.
“Not too many. A few here and there. What do you expect when they build these ships from scrap?” Conrad replied.
Calhoon cleared her throat sharply. “As I was trying to say,” she said sharply, “I’m going to restructure the command. General, you will be pleased to know you now have an army. Kane had six infantry platoons and a full armored division. Latest technology, too. Khaydarin rifles, guided missile tanks, the works.”
“Oh, goodie!” Conrad said in mock glee. Calhoon was not amused.
“Joe, I’m promoting you to Fleet Commander. You’ve been in my command since I took it, and it’s time you get some recognition. I’m giving you command of our science vessel, and you’ll coordinate all fighters and small crafts.” She stopped again as the ship suddenly changed directions, and a nearby bulkhead snapped in half. “I,” she continued, “will retain full command of the Darkhammer, as well as tactical command of the main fleet, and override authority on both of you.”
Conrad tried to peer out the window, at the fleet. “I didn’t think it would look so ugly,” he said.
The ship shuttered its way over the Darkhammer. A small swarm of SCVs and construction probes were wrestling a large spidery yellow object into position on the ship’s dorsal spar. Other ships in the fleet were already starting to look as jury-rigged as the New Antigan fleet.
Admiral Calhoon shrugged. “I don’t care how it looks. But if it doesn’t work, General, I’ll make you eat every last bit of Protoss technology you have installed.”
Conrad held up his hands, “It’ll work, don’t worry. Elari said the Protoss have had some experience adapting their technology to operate with Terran equipment.”
***
Five weeks sitting on pins and needles… The entire Confederate Resistance fleet was dry-docked, along with most of the Protoss fleet. Conrad spent the whole time on the bridge, waiting for an attack, and telling over and over again the inflated story about a battle from the guild wars called the “Morian turkey shoot.” Half of the Kel-Morian fleet was wiped out while in dry-dock. His gloom-and-doom attitude was hell on fleet morale until the modifications were finished.
Conrad’s first officer, (He finally remembered to ask his name, Michael Morolto) said, as the Macbeth left dock, “We’re still going to die, but at least we’ll die fighting.”
Conrad sat turned to the side in the command chair. Calhoon was barking at him and King over the command channel, but he wasn’t listening. “I’m going out for a test run,” she was saying to her deaf audience, “I want you both to stay here. If either one of you go off on your own, I’ll hang your ass on my wall.” She cleared her throat loudly, and clapped her hands. “General? Are you even listening?”
Conrad didn’t look up. “Yeah, stay put, hang my ass on the wall, I’m listening.”
“Good,” said Calhoon, making it very clear that it wasn’t good.
As soon as the screen went dark, Conrad jumped to his feet, pacing and looking very intently at the pad in his hand. He stopped abruptly, and blurted, “Get me a channel to Praetor Artanis.”
A slight beep announced that the connection was complete. Conrad didn’t look up, or wait for pleasantries. He simply started talking, “How good are your translation systems?”
Artanis was a bit shaken by the sudden interrogation. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Conrad thought about this. He looked over the pad again, and said, “How many languages have you successfully translated?”
Artanis moved away briefly, to consult some reference, and returned saying, “The records here aren’t complete. We have tested it on any lower species under the Dae’Uhl that had broadcast communication. The complete records were lost on Aiur.”
Conrad scratched his chin. “Is it possible they aren’t perfect?” he asked. “I mean, maybe there’s some subtlety or nuance in the alien’s language that the translator algorithms missed.”
“Do you mean to tell me that this war is a misunderstanding?” Artanis demanded.
Conrad shook his head quickly, “Of course not!” he protested. “The aliens made no announcement of intent before firing on Terran ships. What I think is a misunderstanding is their insistence that you are Xel’Naga. Is it possible that you missed something in there? Maybe the word “is” was a mistranslation?” Artanis didn’t reply immediately, and Conrad plunged ahead, “Look, I tried to learn Protoss. Their syntax and constructs are completely different. This language may have hundreds of exceptions or double meanings, and the algorithms haven’t had enough exposure to nail everything down.” Conrad suddenly stopped, wheezing and out of breath.
Artanis nodded, slowly.
***
“What do you make of that?” Calhoon asked as the rest of the fleet slid into position beside her ship. Another ship, the largest she had ever seen, drifted slowly into the system, seemingly under its own power. “Ensign, what are the dimensions?”
The ensign she had addressed had been staring silently at his console, eyes almost popping from his head. He shook his head, and licked his lips as he tried to speak. “Two hundred thirty-three kilometers long. Fifty-five kilometers in width, thirty-seven kilometers vertically. Khaydarin powered.”
“Khaydarin power? A Protoss ship?” Calhoon asked. She wondered how the Protoss could have ever lost a battle with such a massive ship in their fleet.
“Transmission for you,” said the communications officer, “Its Executor Jazin.”
Calhoon gestured to put the message through. Jazin’s red streaked blue face appeared on a smaller side screen. His eyes were closed and he was murmuring softly to himself. Calhoon waited for him to speak. Finally, growing impatient, she said, “I take it you know what that thing is?”
“Yes,” the Protoss answered.
Calhoon stepped toward the screen, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot. “Care to tell me?”
Jazin abruptly opened his eyes. “It is a Xel’Naga worldship. Don’t bother looking for a crew. There are no life signs aboard.”
Calhoon sneered, “I’ll find that out for myself, thank you.” She waved to have the transmission closed, and turned to a random officer in the back of the bridge. “Assemble a six-man boarding party. Has General Conrad’s ship arrived yet?”
“Yes sir. Two minutes ago, sir.”
“Let the General know he’s leading the party.”
***
“Holy shit,” Conrad whispered. “Did you say six hundred kilometers?”
Morolto nodded. “Afraid so.”
“Can you find a place where we can get in?” Conrad asked. So far, all he had seen was sheer, if battered, hull plating. The ship slowly slid past the fleet, towards the inner system.
There was a brief flurry of activity in the engineering pit, followed by a head popping up above the deck, saying, “Coming into view!”
“What is?” Morolto asked.
“Zerg,” Conrad said. A gaping chasm was torn into the Xel’Naga ship’s hull, exposing hundreds of chambers and passages, extending several kilometers into the ship.
“Excuse me, sir?” asked Morolto.
Conrad gestured around the screen. “It’s pretty well decayed, but it looks like there’s Zerg biomass in there.” He called over his shoulder, “Is the Executor aboard yet? Bring him up here.”
They waited several minutes for Jazin, exchanging theories about the Zerg and the Xel’Naga ship, most of which were quickly dismissed because of inconsistency or sheer absurdity. When Jazin arrived, he glared viciously at Conrad. “I still don’t like this,” he said, “That ship is the grave of more beings that we can imagine. The gods do not look kindly on grave defilement.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Conrad replied. “But I have no choice in the matter.”
“You let this woman decide your fate?” Jazin taunted.
“No,” Conrad said flatly, “I let my commanding officer decide my fate. You know how that works, Executor.”
Jazin nodded softly. “I took the liberty of having the observers scan the interior.” He proffered a pad, and said, “The port half of the ship is fully mapped. The rest will be ready before we disembark.”
“Very well,” Conrad said. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
***
Two boarding craft docked in the Macbeth’s main bay. Calhoon and King disembarked from one, and a group of marines marched off of the other, lining up for inspection. Conrad waved sharply to the two firebats following them out, shaking his head. “Light arms only,” he said, “We probably won’t have any fighting to do anyway.” The two men slumped slightly, and boarded the admiral’s craft. Conrad turned and saluted Calhoon.
Calhoon scowled, and said, “Bastard.”
As she returned to her craft, Conrad called after her, “Bitch!”
Jazin seemed slightly amused by this, “What is this about?”
“Oh, it’s a thing we have,” Conrad said in mock humor.
King stormed back into the tiny box-like craft, calling Conrad, “Asshole.”
“And you have a… thing with the Commander as well?” asked Jazin.
“No, he’s just a jerk.” Conrad approached one of the marines, and asked for his weapon. Conrad turned the rifle over in his hands as the man stood saluting. Conrad handed him back the weapon, and waved them onto their boarding craft. The marine was still saluting until Conrad finally threw him an absentminded salute.
Once the team was sealed in their craft, the bay was opened to space. Calhoon’s craft left at full thrust and returned to the flagship, while Conrad’s ship backed out slowly, and swiveled toward the Xel’Naga worldship.
They entered the ship through the massive gash. Thick Zerg biomass clung to every surface, and dead forms littered the corridors extending back into the ship.
“How far in are we?” Conrad asked when they reached the back of the hole.
“Three point five kilometers, General,” replied the pilot.
Jazin directed him to his chosen landing point. The marines disembarked, and immediately began scanning the area with their guns. Conrad motioned for them to lower their guns. “We don’t need those, they’re just regulation here.”
After a brief conference with Jazin and his crude map, Conrad opened his com, and started giving orders. “Nineteen kilometers down this corridor is our first objective. Keep your weapons down, I don’t want anyone shooting up corpses. Keep your visors down, where there is atmosphere, it’s not breathable.”
Several kilometers later, Conrad was muttering to Jazin, “I can’t believe I’ve been lowered to grave robbing. This bullshit better be worth it.”
A badly scrambled voice broke in on him, “General, this is command, you’re on an open channel.”
“Damn it!” Conrad said.
As they continued, they were all amazed at the ship’s design. A dull glow emanated from some of the walls, and corridors branched off at the most amazing angles. Not only were there the standard right-angle left and right branches, but there were occasional corridors seeming to branch off straight up or down, forcing them to skirt along the outsides of the passage.
After having negotiated one of these vertical intersections, the lead marine called a warning, and began spraying fire down the corridor. “Hold your fire!” Conrad yelled several times before he quit. Conrad pushed up to the front of the group. “Give me your gun,” he told the marine. The soldier was shaking visibly. He must have fired his stimpack.
Conrad told everyone to sit still, as he moved forward. The corridor was filled for several meters with limbs and shells, all clearly Zerg. He moved a good twenty meters before he found an intact body. “Executor!” he called. As Jazin approached, Conrad said, “You have more experience with Zerg than I do. What does this look like to you?”
The creature was tiny, about the size of a broodling. It had four limbs, with lizard-like paws in place of the expected scythes. It had a diminutive version of the sweeping cranium that most Zerg breeds had, and a spiny fin ran along its back. Jazin and he turned it over a few times, and Jazin finally offered, “Primitive. Perhaps it is a pre-evolved Zergling. This ship may have been drifting for millennia.”
Conrad nodded slowly, and called to the marine who had opened fire, “Hey, trigger boy! Get over here and make yourself useful!”
The marine approached, eyeing the dead Zerg warily. Conrad poked at it several times, demonstrating that it was thoroughly dead. “Carry this thing back to the shuttle and stay with it,” Conrad told him sharply. “I’ll have Hal cut it up and see how it works later.”
***
It took hours of negotiating the bizarre ship’s vertical corridors to reach the huge chamber Jazin had highlighted on his map. The chamber itself was immense. There was no way to grasp the true scale from the map. Conrad had to raise his occulars to full zoom before he could resolve the far end of the great hall. The air was permeated with a dull blue light, and three-meter-tall pods lined each wall.
Conrad went to the nearest two pods to his right. Each pod had a line of print on it in an intricate script. Most of them also had a second line in the same script, but smaller and in blood red. The nearest pod on the right side of the wall lacked this. In its place, the script had been carved roughly into the surface with some sharp implement.
“Stasis cells,” said Jazin, moving to the opposite side of the chamber.
All of the pods were thickly encrusted with dust. Conrad touched one of them. The gloves of his pressure suit were fairly well insulated, but the tiny temperature display on the back of his palm told him that the pods were the same temperature as their surroundings. “They’ve failed. Probably a long time ago,” he said, scraping the filth from the pod with the carved script.
It took some time, but he was finally able to see inside. “Jazin, come here,” he said. He pointed into the pod. A large wormlike creature was held in restraints inside, perfectly preserved in the vacuum of space. “Zerg larva.”
Jazin crossed to him rapidly, and began to scrape vigorously at the next pod. He quickly revealed the withered form of a Protoss contained within. “Get the camera in here,” Conrad said. A marine quickly moved forward, and turned a camera on them to broadcast the image back to the fleet. Conrad almost laughed at the marine, in his huge armor, holding an absurdly small camera in his bulky gloves.
“Next one,” Conrad said as he and Jazin began to scrape the next pod.
Inside was a tall being with blue fur and an intricate crest on its head. Jazin regarded it briefly, then snorted and said, “Rin. They were under the Dae’Uhl. They breed faster than any known race, but they kill one another as fast as they breed.”
They moved from one pod to the next for half an hour, and Jazin had a story to connect to several of the creatures they came across.
“This is like some kind of gallery,” Conrad said.
“Indeed,” said a mysterious voice. The voice seemed to come emanate from the ship itself.
Conrad turned violently, and backed against the nearest pod. “Who said that?”
A hooded figure seemed to materialize from nowhere. A pair of eyes seemed to gleam from some great distance inside the black void within the hood. The voice took form within the being, thin, weak, wheezing. “It is my legacy… our legacy… A legacy of complete and utter failure.” The creature extended his spindly hands to the pods, “A thousand offspring, a thousand failures, yet we still tried.” The being moved towards the group. Conrad tried to discern a face within the robes. Seeming to sense this, the being drew the hood further over his face. The eyes focused on Conrad. “I don’t know you.” Turning to Jazin, “You, however… You are far from home Protoss,” it said, speaking the last with great contempt. “I imagine you have destroyed your homeworld with your petty war?”
Jazin tensed, “Your vile children,” he bellowed, gesturing wildly at the Zerg pod, “Destroyed Aiur and decimated my people!”
“Along with millions of my people,” added Conrad.
“Ah… the Zerg,” said the Xel’Naga. “So powerful… wonderful… But the flaws of the creation are the fault of the creators…” The being seemed almost nostalgic as he gazed at the tiny, dead worm. “They did not destroy Aiur. They simply spared it.”
“Spared it? Spared it!” Jazin’s eyes flashed a bright red, and he seemed to be ready to charge the Xel’Naga, “Millions upon millions of Protoss died under the Zerg, yet you say we are ‘spared!’”
“The Jihad is upon us,” said the being, “We hoped to create races great enough to stand beside us when it finally came upon this galaxy. But alas, it was not to be.”
“Jihad?” Conrad said, “A holy war? Are you talking about those aliens?”
“Come,” the being said as it seemed to glide away. “I will show you.”
***
“What happened?” Calhoon demanded.
“I don’t know!” said King, “We’ve lost contact with the boarding party.”
“Replay the last minute of the transmission!”
The screen displayed the visual image of the floor of the Xel’Naga ship, as Conrad’s and Jazin’s feet came into view. They could hear Jazin talking about the contents of the pod, some species called the Malkidur. Conrad said, “This is like some kind of gallery,” and the screen turned to static.
“Incoming!” cried an officer from the rear of the bridge.
***
The feeble being had led them into a chamber off the far end of the gallery. As soon as he stepped into the room, the entire ship seemed to come to life around them.
“Long ago, before I was brought into existence, my people began to… study the secrets of life, locked in the Khaydarin crystals,” he said. With no apparent motion by the Xel’Naga, a glowing image of a Khaydarin crystal appeared in thin air, surrounded by kneeling beings. “We were not alone in our galaxy. There were many lower creatures and many other sentient beings as well… One in particular, the Keth-raz we had much contact with. We exchanged technology and traded goods as both of our races continued their natural progression.”
As he said this, the image dissolved and reformed into that of an approximately humanoid being. The creature had two legs set wide at the base of its barrel-shaped torso with knees pointing forward. A third leg extended back from the torso, and bent forward at two knees, ending in a clawed foot behind and between the others. The creature had the standard two arms, but they split at the elbow into two separately jointed appendages, each ending in a pair of claws. The four claws on each arm construct looked like they could come together and act as a single hand.
Conrad wasn’t particularly bothered by the image, but Jazin backed away slightly, and stood slightly behind Conrad.
The Xel’Naga observed this behavior with apparent satisfaction, and continued. “When we unlocked the secret of the crystals, we offered the Keth-raz the opportunity to join us in our Grand Experiment. The Keth-raz are a deeply spiritual race, as is ours, but they are fundamentalist in their beliefs. They declared our experiments to be the works of evil, and severed their relations with us. The Keth-raz had never waged war, not with other, nor with us, and not among themselves… but when we began our experiments, they launched the Jihad… the holy cleansing.” The image changed again, and showed the all too familiar alien ships firing down on a beautiful blue planet. “They laid waste to the planets housing our early creations, and devastated our homeworld.” The image flashed rapidly, showing massive Keth-raz fleets devastating planet after planet.
“It was then that we constructed the great ships you know us by,” said the being, spreading his arms out to take in the ship around them. “We came here, and continued our task. We hoped we could create races that could stand with us against the coming war.” The Xel’Naga now turned on Jazin, “You were our greatest hope! We thought we had learned so much from you. We were going to return to our some of our other failures, undo our mistakes. But your fall doomed us. Our last chance was the Zerg…”
The being turned from them, and simply ignored them. The room went dark again. All attempts to prize more information from the Xel’Naga were fruitless.
After some time, the being simply turned to Jazin. “Return to your home. Wait for death. It will be much easier. And you… you Terrans. Flee. The Keth-raz will not attack you. You are not of us.”
Conrad stepped menacingly toward the hooded figure, “These Keth-raz of yours have already attacked Terran ships unprovoked!”
The Xel’Naga considered this. “Has your race ever engaged in genetic self modification? Cybernetcis? Surgical body modification?”
Conrad nodded grimly, knowing what was coming, “All of the above.”
The Xel’Naga seemed to nod sympathetically. “Then you should await death as well. You cannot hope to challenge the Jihad. Their military technology is far more powerful than any of our peoples’.”
Conrad sneered at him. “Terrans will never wait for death. We have fought the Zerg and won. We’ve beaten the Protoss in battle, and we will defeat the Keth-raz in battle, or we will die fighting.”
“Foolish. It is to be expected from one so… primitive.” He turned back to Jazin, and said with contempt “I expect the mighty Protoss are wise enough to realize there is no fighting back.”
Jazin rose to his full height, straightening his double knees. “The Protoss have no fear of any enemy! We will fight and die to protect the galaxy.”
“As violent as ever, I see.” The Xel’Naga turned away again, evoking new images from thin air. “It is upon us.”
The floating image formed into a starfield. Before their eyes, space seemed to fold in upon itself, then snap back to reality, disgorging a small Keth-raz fleet. At the core of the formation was a behemoth of a ship, the same sterile white as the others. It looked like an immense stingray, with a long tail extending from its rounded bow.
The Xel’Naga stood, oblivious. Conrad felt a slight tremor as the smaller alien ships began to fire at them. “Aren’t you going to do anything?” he cried.
“There will be a conclusion,” said the withered being. “I will end here, along with my legacy.”
Conrad raised his hands to the marines, and unslung his weapon from his shoulder. “Fire!” he ordered.
The combined force of the four Khaydarin rifles shattered the spindly alien’s body. His shattered form collapsed into a remarkably small pile. Conrad and Jazin lept at the featureless panels, and tried desperately to figure out how to fight back.
The largest alien ship seemed to glow briefly, then its entire hull erupted in a massive barrage. The Xel’Naga ship shifted several meters, throwing the Terrans around the room. Only Jazin was unaffected by the jolt.
“Go back to the shuttle!” Jazin yelled, “I can handle this from here!”
“Hell no! I won’t stand by while someone else is offered up to the enemy,” Conrad said, dragging himself to his feet.
“There’s nothing you can do. Save yourself, save your people,” Jazin said, “The Khala awaits me. Someone must relay what has happened here! En taro Adun, John!”
Conrad hesitated. The ship twisted violently, collapsing part of the gallery chamber. “Go, go, go!” he yelled at the marines.
***
“Any contact yet?” Calhoon demanded.
“No sir!”
King drew up beside Calhoon, and said softly, “The aliens are ignoring us right now, but the Xel’Naga ship will only last a few minutes of this. You can count on us being the next target.”
Calhoon nodded. “Helm, full about!” she said, “Retreat.”
***
Crackling energy rippled through minute veins in the deck, ceiling and walls. Two of the marines were already at the far end of the gallery chamber, clearing debris from the mouth of the passageway. “Climb over it,” Conrad snarled. They sprinted hard down the long passageway to the shuttle.
Several hundred meters later, Conrad skidded to a halt. The marine ahead of him had suddenly dropped from view, and his screams filled his headset. Conrad had to claw wildly at the wall to keep from following the man down the vertical shaft. Conrad waved the rest of them around the narrow ledges skirting the shaft.
Almost as soon as they were all out on the narrow ledge, the ship slammed forward. Conrad flailed out, and caught the ledge with one hand as it raced past his head. He turned his headset off. He knew the bulky powered suits the marines wore wouldn’t allow the sort of acrobatics that would save them, and he didn’t want to listen to them die. Hanging there, he considered simply letting go. He let his fingers slip slightly.
He heard Jazin’s words. Someone must relay what has happened here… He didn’t know if it was in fact Jazin, or if he was finally loosing it, but the words gave him new power.
He swung his leg onto the deck, and dragged himself to safety. He ran on, and never looked back.
***
When the shuttle was finally in view, his breath burned in his lungs. His oxygen light had been red for several minutes, and he couldn’t focus his oculars. He stumbled up the ramp, waving his arms wildly, and shouting.
“What are you saying?” the pilot yelled in his face. Conrad heard only a dull murmur. Oh God, I’m deaf, he thought. Then it caught him. A small amber light inside his helmet told him his headset was off. He turned it back on. He could hear the pilot talking to him, but couldn’t hear himself.
“Where are the others?”
Conrad shook his head violently, and waved at the pilot to lift off.
The massive doors slid shut, and the shuttle repressurized. Conrad tore his helmet off, and sucked in air as hard as he could. As the pilot maneuvered out of the deep gash in the side of the ship, Conrad could see the brilliant light flowing through every crevice of the ship. As they passed out into open space, the Xel’Naga ship began to move faster, accelerating and twisting with no regards for conservation of momentum.
Already, the dusty plains of Shakuras stretched out below them. Conrad searched vainly for a familiar landmark, but could find none.
“General!” shouted the pilot, “Better strap in. We’re about to make an emergency landing.”
Conrad swore as he hauled himself as fast as he could to a flight couch and pulled the harness over his shoulders. In pilot-lingo, “emergency landing” meant crash.
The landscape vanished beneath them, as the fires of reentry enveloped the small craft. When the fires finally cleared, Conrad could see the gargantuan Xel’Naga temple, and the scorched crater surrounding it. The four claw-like structures extending from it were raised up, towards the sky.
“I never knew it could do that,” Conrad said absently. The pilot looked back at him, but Conrad waved at him to mind his own task.
The temple suddenly seemed to explode. A beam of white light swallowed the temple, and lanced straight up. As the shuttle pitched up in preparation for “landing,” Conrad could see the huge glowing hulk of the Xel’Naga ship taking the full force of the beam.
***
Artanis saw the shaft of light extending up on the horizon from the Nexus at New Antioch. “Elari, what’s going on?”
Elari and the other Protoss on the command tier with him converged on the central console, their fingers flying across the crystalline input panels. The holographic display showed the battered Xel’Naga ship, breaking up under the alien attack. The shaft of light flowed over the hull of the ship like a stream of water, slowly working its way over the hull.
One of the smallest alien ships split off, and engaged an encroaching Terran fleet. It fired three rapid pulses, destroying one of the smaller Terran vessels instantly. The fleet returned a volley of missiles. The attacker spun out of control, and slammed into the bow of a nearby carrier. The massive carrier’s engines sputtered and died. Flashing holographic symbols relayed that the ship’s primary systems had failed.
The flowing light closed at the stern of the Xel’Naga worldship. Artanis’s eyes widened as the massive vessel exploded in a single blast. A split second later, a visible shock wave rippled out of the flaming debris. It washed over the nearby Terran and Protoss ships with no effect, but the alien ships dissolved into comet like trails of glittering white dust.
***
Conrad climbed out of the twisted doorway, dragging the pilot after him. “Check on him,” he said, pointing at the marine crouching on his knees nearby, with the small dead Zerg slung over his shoulder.
Conrad moved away, towards the towering temple. Two of the great sweeping claws had collapsed, and the sloping walls were pocked with cave ins. With a crackle of energy, one of the remaining claws broke loose, falling to the ground with the force of a small earthquake.
He turned his eyes skyward, but the massive ship was nowhere to be seen. In vain effort, Conrad tried all of his oculars zoom and wavelength settings, but to no avail.
Forcing himself to accept the awful truth, he bowed towards the ruined temple. Softly, without moving his lips, he said, “En taro Tassadar, Jazin.”
