by Timothy Zahn
Could that be what this was all about? The zerg had failed to overrun terran and protoss territory using faunal infestations. Had Zagara decided to try a floral approach this time around?
For that matter, was Zagara really as fully in command of the zerg as she claimed? The zerg leadership had been incredibly fluid—some would say slippery—over the years, and at the moment there was no proof that there wasn’t someone off in the shadows pulling Zagara’s strings.
I saw Ulavu aboard your ship.
Valerian blinked. All the glory of Gystt flowing past beneath them, all the darker questions about what the zerg were up to pressing in around them, and Artanis was bringing up Ulavu? “Yes, he was there,” he confirmed. “I wanted him along for any special insights he might have about the zerg.”
As well as insights he might have about the protoss?
“That as well,” Valerian admitted, wondering uneasily if Artanis would take that the wrong way. After all, he’d known even before leaving Korhal that Artanis was gathering a protoss task force at Gystt. Theoretically, the hierarch should be able to offer any protoss insights that Valerian needed.
He has served you well?
“His work with us has been exemplary,” Valerian said, feeling his forehead creasing. The last time Ulavu had even come up in conversation with the protoss was over three years ago, when one of Artanis’s aides had flatly refused the Dominion’s final offer to return the wayward researcher to his people. Valerian had never found out what Ulavu had done to warrant such antipathy, but it had been abundantly clear that something was going on beneath the surface.
This probably wasn’t the time or place to go into those details. On the other hand, given that Artanis had brought up the subject, maybe it was.
“I’m distressed, though, that he seems to have been ostracized by his fellow protoss,” Valerian continued. “I hope we aren’t the cause of that rejection, either terrans in general or the Dominion in particular.”
Do not concern yourself with Ulavu or his relationship with the protoss, Emperor Valerian, Artanis said. He serves you. That is sufficient for the present. There was a pause, and Valerian sensed the hierarch’s mental communication being widened to everyone aboard the shuttle. Are there indications of mutalisk or devourer presence nearby? Are there other signs of zerg betrayal?
One by one, the negative responses came in: telepathic whispers from the protoss on the shuttle, louder verbal ones from the marines who’d been given spots at the various sensor displays, psi-boosted calls from the protoss manning the phoenix escort ships. We must continue to be vigilant, Artanis said.
“Agreed,” Valerian said. Had the hierarch sounded disappointed just then? Was he hoping that Zagara had set a trap for them?
Maybe he was. Maybe he was hoping for an excuse to incinerate Gystt again. To kill every zerg down there.
Maybe, down deep, Valerian was hoping the same thing.
The communing structure has appeared ahead, one of the protoss reported.
Valerian frowned at the displays wrapped around his seat. There it was, just coming into view on the horizon. It towered over the surrounding landscape like a white volcano, its surface twisted and textured like everything else the zerg created.
Search for indications of zerg in the region, Artanis ordered.
The search is ongoing, Hierarch. There are no indications of zerg presence outside the communing structure.
“And with nothing bigger than short bushes in the area, it would be hard for Zagara to hide anything large,” Valerian pointed out. “At least, nothing that wouldn’t have to dig itself out of hiding before it attacked.”
Scan the inside of the structure, Artanis ordered, not acknowledging Valerian’s comment. Either he’d already reached that same conclusion or he didn’t think the statement merited a reply.
Scanning is difficult, Hierarch Artanis. The carapace is thick and strong. There are no discoverable anomalies as of yet.
Understood. Continue.
“And make sure the readings you get match those we got from orbit,” Valerian added.
Artanis turned to him. You believe that the zerg can affect our eyes or our sensors?
“Zagara was with Sarah Kerrigan when Kerrigan disappeared,” Valerian reminded him. “She already told us Kerrigan gave the zerg the gift of choice. Who knows what other gifts or toys she might have given them?”
A fair question, Emperor Valerian Mengsk, Artanis conceded. All protoss: be especially watchful for such effects.
Two minutes later, they were there.
Measurements from orbit had indicated that the central cone opening was more than big enough to allow a shuttle and the phoenix escort to enter. But it was only as the protoss pilot began lowering them into the cone that Valerian realized how much bigger than the protoss craft it actually was. Not only did they have plenty of clearance, but even at the tightest spots they still had some maneuvering room.
There is evidence of forced erosion at the apex of the cone, one of the protoss reported.
Valerian frowned at his displays. Had Zagara, seeing the size of the vehicles her guests would be arriving in, quickly peeled away the top of the cone to make the opening larger?
Of course, it might not have been entirely for her visitors’ benefit. With the newly enlarged opening, there was now also enough room for a mutalisk or even a huge devourer to enter, should Zagara have betrayal on her mind. Still, as Valerian had already noted, there were no hiding spots for anything that big within fifty kilometers of the structure. Before an attack could reach them, the ships monitoring the situation from orbit would have plenty of time to sound an alarm.
Danger! Hierarch Artanis, danger!
Valerian’s eyes flicked across the displays, his stomach wrenching into a knot. What the hell—?
There are several clusters of infested flora arrayed around the edges of the structure’s floor, the protoss continued. There may be risk of contamination.
“I don’t think so,” one of the marines said. “All the plants are in sealed display cases. Something organic, but it pings like steelglass.”
There is no proof that the undersides of the cases are sealed, the protoss countered.
“Who puts something in a case and then leaves its butt hanging out?” the marine scoffed.
That is enough idle speculation, Artanis said, cutting off the budding argument. Draw in air samples as we descend and analyze for signs of zerg hyperevolutionary virus. We will not disembark until we are assured the interior is sterile. He turned to Valerian, and Valerian sensed him once again focusing his communication. We do not wish to inhale plant spores, whether benign or otherwise.
“Agreed,” Valerian said grimly. A motion on one of the displays caught his eye. “Zagara’s entering the main chamber.”
And she wasn’t alone. Walking a few steps behind her was another zerg, nearly as big as the Overqueen, with a flat face, several green eyes—at least four—and large glowing blisters along the sides of his head and neck. Along with the usual zerg manipulative claws were a pair of shorter arms with disturbingly human-looking hands. The two of them were heading toward a section along the chamber rim that was devoid of the plant cases, and had instead been set up with several chairs and a couple of low tables. A touch on the zoom control revealed that the tables held flasks of various liquids and small cakelike squares.
As if Valerian were going to eat or drink anything offered by a zerg.
There is sufficient room for a landing, the pilot reported. Shall I begin the descent?
Begin the descent, Artanis confirmed.
It was an odd feeling to be inside a zerg structure, and Valerian felt a twinge of claustrophobia as the shuttle floated to the floor. But there was no attack; there were no spores or other zerg infestation agents in the air outside, and Matt’s reports from orbit continued to confirm that the surrounding couple of hundred square kilometers were clear of threats. The only sizable zerg nearby was Mukav’s leviathan,
which had set down twenty kilometers away from the conference building, and it was far too big to get inside.
For a long moment after they landed, no one spoke. Valerian found himself holding his breath, waiting against all signs and logic for a last-minute attack.
But the attack didn’t come. Zagara and the other zerg remained where they were; no zerglings or roaches or drones burst forth from hidden chambers, and the air analyzers remained a steady green.
Beside him, Artanis stirred. Begin the disembarkation, he ordered. Let us see what Zagara wishes to show us.
The high templar and dark templar went first, their psi blades and warp blades blazing out from the focusers on the backs of their gauntlets. The marines were next, followed by Valerian’s bodyguards, their weapons likewise held high and ready. Valerian watched on the monitors as the mixed group of warriors arranged themselves in a double semicircle around the shuttle’s base.
Through it all Zagara and the other zerg remained motionless at their chosen spot by the chairs and tables.
Artanis gave it another moment. Then, after gesturing to Valerian, he unstrapped and led the way out the hatchway and onto the hard floor. Side by side, they headed toward Zagara, their guards falling into flanking positions around them.
Zagara waited until the group reached the chairs. Then she slowly lifted her arms. I greet you, Hierarch Artanis, she said. I greet you, Emperor Valerian Mengsk. May I present Abathur, evolution master of the Swarm?
“Overqueen, Evolution Master,” Valerian said, nodding a greeting to each of them. So that was a zerg evolution master. There had been rumors of creatures like that, but they’d never been fully confirmed. “Thank you for your invitation.”
Thank you for accepting it, Zagara said. Please, come closer. Sit. Partake of refreshments, if you desire.
Her mandibles clacked twice. And then let us discuss how we may usher in a new era of peace among our peoples.
—
Erin had heard any number of horror stories about the general craziness of the Dominion Reaper Corps. It was with a certain degree of surprise, and a high degree of relief, that she watched Lieutenant Halkman bring them to a smooth landing on Gystt’s surface.
Of course, the fact that Halkman had insisted they call him Dizz hadn’t helped her confidence level any. Especially when she asked if it was short for Dizzy and he told her it was short for Disaster.
“Okay, we’re here,” Dizz announced as the whine of the engines faded away. “Whist, Tanya? You’re up.”
“Right,” Sergeant Cray—Whist, as he’d insisted everyone call him—confirmed as he popped his restraints. “The rest of you relax while we check things out.”
There are no zerg near the dropship.
Erin’s body twitched hard against her restraints as Ulavu’s words echoed through her brain. As a xenobiologist, she’d naturally read a lot about the protoss, and she’d thought she understood them pretty well.
But reading about psionic communication and actually experiencing it were two very different things.
“Glad you think so,” Whist growled as he walked to the back and started climbing into his armor. Clearly, he wasn’t thrown by having alien thoughts bouncing around the inside of his skull. “You don’t mind if we check it out for ourselves, do you?”
Not at all, Ulavu assured him.
“Shouldn’t the rest of us at least suit up?” Erin asked hesitantly, watching with secret envy as Whist climbed with quick efficiency into his CMC combat suit. Her own attempts at getting into the armor aboard the Hyperion had been utter embarrassments. Her attempts to get out of it before the dropship launched hadn’t been much better.
“Nope,” Whist called over his shoulder. “If there’s trouble and Dizz has to do a quick dustoff, you don’t want to be halfway into your suit. Trust me.” He paused long enough to give her a pointed look. “Besides, can you even get into it alone?”
Erin felt her face redden. “Probably not.”
“So there’s that.” He finished sealing his suit, pausing with his visor open. “Tanya?”
“Ready.”
Erin looked at the other side of the dropship, a shiver running up her back. She hadn’t read nearly as much about ghosts as she had about protoss and zerg, mainly because there wasn’t a lot about the program that wasn’t classified. Still, as with the reapers, there were plenty of disturbing rumors about them.
“Let’s do it,” Whist said, sealing his faceplate. He pulled a pair of gauss rifles from the rack by the aft drop ramp, then slung one over his shoulder and cradled the other in ready position. “Dizz?”
In response, the ramp dropped down, its far edge slamming against the ground with a thud that Erin felt straight through her seat. A second later Whist and Tanya were outside, one breaking left, the other breaking right. Erin stared at the greenery at the foot of the ramp, her mind spinning in a dozen different directions—
“Clear.” Whist’s crisp voice came over the dropship speakers. “Olly olly oxen free.”
“That means we’re cleared to go,” Dizz translated, popping his straps. “Erin, you need help getting into your CMC?”
I will assist her, Ulavu said before Erin could answer.
“Really?” Dizz asked. “Okay, sure. Let me know if you need help.”
“Uh…” Erin said, taking a step backward before she could stop herself.
Dizz noticed. “Trouble?” he asked.
Erin gazed at the alien, who had stopped at her reaction. “No,” she lied.
“Good,” Dizz said, turning back to his own armor.
Do not be afraid, Ulavu said, starting toward her again. I will not harm you.
Erin bit back the reply that wanted to come out. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her…but his race had hurt a lot of other people. Despite their claims of honor, the protoss had the blood of millions of terrans on their hands.
Had they ever acknowledged their crimes? Or even admitted that they’d made mistakes, if they still claimed the destruction was necessary?
There was no denying the protoss were an ancient race. But without a better sense of ethics, Erin would never call them an honorable one.
Still, this wasn’t the time and place for a philosophical or moral discussion. Their job was to figure out what the Swarm was up to. If that meant working with a protoss, so be it.
Even if it meant letting him close enough to help her get dressed.
To her mild surprise, Ulavu had no problem at all getting the various pieces of her armor to fit together in the right places and in the correct order. But then, he had just seen Whist get into the same type of suit.
Protoss were supposed to be quick, strong, and graceful. Apparently, they also had excellent visual memories.
Four minutes later, they were all outside. Ten seconds after that, Dizz had sealed the drop ramp back into place.
And the five of them were alone. On an impossibly lush planet.
Almost certainly surrounded by zerg.
“Okay, Erin, this is your show,” Dizz said. “Which way?”
Erin keyed in her heads-up display, rather pleased that she remembered how to do it without any false starts. “That way,” she said, pointing between a pair of small hills. “About thirty kilometers.” Carefully, she began walking—left leg, right leg, left leg. She was getting the hang of this. She started up the saddle point between the hills—
“Hold it!” Tanya snapped.
Erin did her best. But she was already halfway into her step; she was on a slope, and she didn’t have her balance reflexes yet. For a fraction of a second she teetered, then slammed straight down onto her faceplate.
The inside of the armor was padded, and there was strategically placed crash webbing to protect her head and torso. But the impact still knocked the air out of her. Cursing silently, she pushed against the ground with one hand, levering herself up onto her side.
And froze. Staring down at her from no more than ten meters away was a full-grown hydralisk.
The field manual said that hydralisks were the Swarm’s shock troops of choice. Lying in front of one, Erin had no trouble believing that. The creature was an armor-plated serpent, its torso permanently reared like a cobra or rattlesnake, the whole thing rising to nearly twice the height of an armored marine. From Erin’s position, it looked a lot bigger. Its long head stretched back nearly half the standing height of its torso, lowering its mouth to within easy reach of its victim. Its long arms ended in tri-bladed scythes backed by twitching striated muscles that could easily slice through a marine combat suit.
Dimly, she was aware that Dizz, Whist, and Tanya all had their weapons up and trained on the massive zerg. But in that splintered moment, all she could see were the dead eyes and serrated mandibles pointed in her direction. All she could hear was the coldly analytic note in the manual—hydralisks have hundreds of poison-tipped needle spines that their unique musculature can throw at near-hypersonic speed. All she could feel was the thudding of her heart, and the low throbbing of her armor. The splintered moment passed; another took its place…
And with a small shake of its head, the hydralisk turned and slithered away. It moved around a pair of bushes and disappeared behind a line of trees.
“I’ll be damned,” Whist muttered, lowering his gun. “I guess these psi block gizmos work.”
“Or else Zagara was telling the truth about a truce,” Tanya said. “You all right, Erin?”
Erin nodded, frowning. The thudding of her heart was starting to fade, leaving the gentle throbbing of her armor as the only sensation through her skin.
Only the throbbing wasn’t coming from the armor. She could tell that now. It was coming from outside the armor.
“Personally, I believe in magic tech more than I believe in magic zerg,” Whist said. “Erin? Say something, kid.”
“I’m okay,” Erin said, belatedly remembering they couldn’t see her nod her head inside her helmet.