StarCraft

by Timothy Zahn

  But there was a subtle difference between this battle and the others Cruikshank had seen. The protoss here seemed to be moving slower than usual, and their movements weren’t quite as clean or graceful. The piles of slaughtered zerglings around them were impeding their footwork, slowly narrowing their maneuverability. One of the Templar stumbled and disappeared instantly beneath a mound of flailing claws. A second protoss went down, this one a Nerazim.

  And then, across the field, a second wave of zerglings emerged from the trees and charged across the grassland.

  “Reapers, move in!” Cruikshank snapped, kicking his Warhound into motion. The protoss were already in serious trouble. If that second wave reached them, they’d be done for.

  And if the center of the line went, the two Dominion flanks wouldn’t be far behind.

  “All units, take out that second wave,” he ordered. “Spend missiles if you have to, but take it out.”

  He was almost to the nearest of the beleaguered Templar—this one a power-suited zealot—when Goliaths One and Four sent a pair of Hellfire anti-air missiles into the center of the oncoming zerg.

  Cruikshank cursed under his breath. Using heavy arms against zerglings was a criminal waste of resources when there were larger, tougher zerg undoubtedly waiting their turn to attack. But he didn’t have a choice. The psyolisks’ psionic assault had put the protoss in a critical position, and if the second wave was allowed to reach them, there would be nothing the Dominion force could do to help. The wave had to be stopped, period.

  As for the remnants of the first wave, it was time to get creative.

  A Warhound’s feet were wide and flat, with gimbaled toes designed for traversing many different types of terrain. They were certainly not designed to kick or step on zerg. Which wasn’t to say that in the hands of a skilled operator they couldn’t do both.

  And Cruikshank was a very skilled operator.

  He’d disposed of probably four of the crowd of zerglings before the zealot in the center of the mob seemed to notice him. For a second the Templar’s defense faltered with sheer surprise at the sight of the mech looming over him—

  One of the zerglings lunged to the attack, its sickle limbs cutting instead into the Warhound’s neosteel lower leg as Cruikshank kicked it away. “You—protoss—knee joint!” he called, planting his feet to either side of the protoss. “Up up up!”

  For a split second he thought the zealot either had missed the idea or was still too stunned or brain-buzzed to understand. Then, with a final slash from his psi blades, he leaped up onto the Warhound’s right knee joint.

  He was still slower than Cruikshank had seen protoss in other battles, and his bladework was still decidedly sloppy. But with his feet and legs no longer entangled by the bodies of dead enemies, the renowned protoss agility was once again in play. Even as the zerglings tried to reach up to him, the zealot was slashing downward, stabbing his psi blades through skulls and carapaces and slicing off limbs.

  Some of the zerglings switched to attacking the Warhound’s legs, probably hoping to bring down both the mech and the protoss now riding it. But the zealot was on it. He leaped back and forth between the mech’s knees, slashing some of the zerglings and driving the rest back. Cruikshank, with no way to assist him, turned his attention back to the still-incoming second wave, sending plasma slugs sizzling across the open ground with his rail gun. Between attacks he kept an eye on the woods for signs of the third wave or, even better, a glimpse of an unwary psyolisk. The zerglings dropped and staggered and fell…

  And then, to Cruikshank’s surprise, it was over.

  He looked around the battlefield, his stomach churning. Eight of his forty marines were down. Goliath Five was canted at a nearly unworkable angle with a broken leg. On the protoss side, it looked like five of the twenty warriors were dead. Bracing himself, he turned his attention back inward to his cockpit displays and checked the med readouts.

  To his relief, only two of the eight downed marines were dead, though a third was in bad condition. The other five had merely been knocked down, their CMCs taking varying amounts of damage. “Alikka?” he called. “What’s your status?”

  Five are dead, the protoss’s bitter words came in his head. The honor of the Nerazim is shaken.

  “Never mind the honor,” Cruikshank growled. “Let’s put our heads together and figure out a new strategy before the next wave rolls us up like a blanket.”

  There was a short pause. Very well. I will hear your suggestions.

  Cruikshank felt his lip twist. Damn generous of him, considering that the protoss were the ones who were mostly getting massacred at the moment. “Okay, listen up,” he said. “New formation. Goliaths, you’re holding the ends of the line—two each. G-Five, what’s with your leg?”

  “It’s a mess, but I can still limp,” Goliath Five’s pilot reported. “Battle maneuvering’s going to be really limited.”

  “Can you straighten up at all?”

  “No. Firing’s a little funky from this angle, but I can do it.”

  “Let’s see what we can do about that,” Cruikshank said. He tapped a point on his battle display about a third of the way in from the mountains. “Get yourself to the spot I marked and turn to face up-battle. Alikka, get the nearest protoss over to him and cut the damaged leg off clean. Then cut the other leg to match so that he can fire level. Congratulations, G-Five: you’ve been promoted from mech to pillbox.”

  “Great. Thanks a lot, Colonel.”

  “No problem,” Cruikshank said. “Marines, forget the flanks—you’re going to spread out along the whole line, with at least two of you to each protoss. Your job will be to flank them, one on each side, and thin out incoming zerg so the protoss won’t be so overwhelmed when the enemy reaches the line. And remember that they’re under heavy psionic attack and won’t be as accurate as usual, so make sure you keep your distance. Getting your head sliced off by accident is embarrassing.”

  “Colonel, we’ve got incoming,” Goliath Three reported. “Third wave on the way.”

  Cruikshank looked across the field. Another line of zerg had appeared, all right, and was crossing the open area toward them.

  Only instead of zerglings, this wave was made up of banelings and ravagers. As he watched, the banelings pulled out in front, their bulging acid sacs jostling as they moved. The ravagers, in contrast, were moving almost leisurely, clearly looking for the point where the terrans and protoss would be in range of their plasma discharge.

  And in the woods behind them, Cruikshank caught a glimpse of hydralisks waiting in the wings.

  “Move it, everyone,” he ordered, raising his rail guns to target two of the distant ravagers. “Looks like they’ve decided this round will be acid, bile, and plasma. Kill them as far back as you can and be ready to dodge projectiles. Alikka, what’s the word on those sentries? We could really use them on this one.”

  Agreed, Alikka said. The disruption beams are still inoperable, but they are able to fly and to lay out force fields. I will warn you: the power is unreliable, so they may not be able to replace the barriers as they dissipate.

  “Anything they can do will be useful,” Cruikshank assured him. “Get them moving.”

  A moment later the two flying robots shot past Cruikshank from the direction of the shuttle. They passed the line of marines and protoss and continued on a hundred meters, then switched direction to travel crossways to the zerg vector. As they flew, they laid down force-field barriers across the zerg path.

  “Okay, everyone: breather time,” Cruikshank called. “Remember the barriers don’t last very long, and be advised the sentries may not be able to replace them. So when the barriers pop, be ready to fire before the zerg can get up to speed again.”

  He got acknowledgments from his team, then ran a quick check on his weapons levels. Whenever the force-field barriers vanished, he would be ready.

  “Bring it on, you bastards,” he murmured to himself. “Bring it on.”

  Whist
had expected the group to be ambushed before they reached the mesa. To his surprise, they weren’t.

  To his even bigger surprise, they reached the small clearing in front of the mesa to find that someone had left the door open.

  “Well, that’s different,” Dizz commented uneasily as the group gathered at the edge of the clearing.

  Whist nodded silently. One of the trees in the outer row had been toppled and was lying across the clearing. The tree behind it in the middle row had fallen on top of it, and the next tree back in the inner row had likewise been felled.

  Beyond the fallen trees was the entryway cavern. Beckoning invitingly.

  “I don’t like it,” Erin murmured. “Why would they open a path for us? How did they do it, even?”

  “The how is simple enough,” Whist said. “You can see the hack marks at the bases from here. The psyolisks just had a bunch of hydralisks do some pruning.”

  As to why, perhaps Abathur has conceded the fact that we will enter regardless, Ulavu suggested.

  “More likely he’s got a trap laid out in there,” Tanya said.

  “Yeah, that’s my guess,” Whist agreed. “Well, no point in putting it off. I’ll let you know what I find.” Resettling his grip on his C-14, he started forward.

  “Whoa,” Dizz said, taking a long step and catching Whist’s shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “You want to wait for an engraved invitation?” Whist countered, more harshly than he’d intended. The thought of going into the darkness alone wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. “There’s a mass of zerg on the way, and Cruikshank can’t hold them forever. Someone has to go in there, and I’m the one with the armor, the weapons, and the training. So all of you just shut up, hang back, and get ready to come running if I yell for you.”

  “I hate running,” Tanya said calmly, stepping to Whist’s side. “I’ll just walk behind you, okay? Don’t worry—you and your armor are welcome to take the first brunt of the attack if you insist.”

  She is right, Ulavu seconded. You must not enter alone. She or I must accompany you.

  “If those are my choices, I’ll take her,” Whist said. Ghosts were ghosts, and he still didn’t entirely trust her not to go all crazy and amok on him.

  Still, up to now she’d stayed pretty cool in combat. And with her, at least, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting accidentally stabbed in the back by a warp blade if the psyolisks threw Ulavu a sudden dizzy spell. “Shake a leg, Tanya.”

  As Whist had already noted, the tree takedown hadn’t exactly been precision quality. The trunks were lying on top of one another, angled upward and pressing against the ones to either side. He and Tanya had to scramble up and over them, then force their way through the narrow gap to get to the cavern entrance.

  To find the entry area deserted.

  “Strange,” Tanya murmured as they played their lights around the walls, floor, and ceiling. Even the ramp and the switchback landing at the top were empty. “You think Ulavu was right about Abathur giving up?”

  “I think I was right about it being a trap,” Whist countered. “The hook’s just farther in, that’s all. Dizz? Bring everyone in. And watch your backs—this could be a trick to hit us while we’re split up.”

  Fortunately, it wasn’t. Two minutes later, they were all inside.

  “Yeah, this is not at all creepy,” Dizz said, looking around. “Ulavu? How you doing?”

  The pressure is intense, Ulavu admitted. But I am able to withstand it.

  “Tanya?”

  “No problem,” she said. “I think they’re still spreading out their attack.”

  “Let’s do this before they get around to fine-tuning it,” Dizz said. “You want me to stay and watch the entryway?”

  “Not this time,” Whist said. “I’m more concerned about what’s inside than what’s outside. We’ll hear anything that tries to force its way in.”

  “You’re the boss,” Dizz said. “Standard marching order?”

  “Standard order,” Whist confirmed. “Let’s go.”

  He approached the first landing cautiously, keeping one eye on the area above them and watching for any trouble that might be lurking out of sight. But again, there was nothing. He rounded the landing corner and came into full view of the next ramp section. Still nothing.

  “Awfully quiet,” Erin commented uneasily.

  “Agreed,” Dizz said. “Did we ever figure out how the psyolisks got in these caverns in the first place?”

  There is light, Ulavu pointed out. That implies the existence of ceiling ducts. If they are large enough, the psyolisks could traverse them.

  “I suppose,” Dizz said. “And come to think of it, if Zagara wasn’t in on the plan, they’d have to have been moved in after she’d buttoned everything up.”

  “So where are they?” Whist asked. “I expected at least a reception committee.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when, at the top of the ramp, a pair of zerglings suddenly appeared around the corner of the landing and charged.

  Whist’s C-14 shuddered in his grip as he put a burst of spikes into each of them. He’d put a second burst in the one on the left, sprawling it to the floor, when the one on the right abruptly collapsed. “Tanya?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she confirmed.

  “Thanks.” He half turned to look at Dizz. “Happy now?”

  “Oh, yes,” Dizz said drily. “Thanks for asking.”

  “No problem.” Whist turned back forward and started up—

  “A moment, please?” Erin said. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Sure,” Whist said.

  “We’ve got a gap in the tree palisade behind us.” She pointed at the dead zerglings. “We have two carcasses we can stuff into it. Should we?”

  “Absolutely,” Whist said, slightly annoyed that he hadn’t thought of that himself. Plugging the gap wouldn’t completely prevent an attack from behind, but it would make it slower and noisier. “Dizz, Tanya, keep an eye on the ramp. Erin, grab yourself a carcass.”

  The zergling Whist got was the one Tanya had torched. He couldn’t feel the heat through his gauntlets or smell the burnt odor through his helmet, but all the way down the ramp he could vividly imagine both. He wedged his carcass in the middle part of the gap, put Erin’s in the inner part, and then led the way back up to the others. He resumed point position, and they continued their climb.

  They reached the top without further incident. Through the archway leading into the main cavern, Whist could see the familiar expanse of rough floor and the tiers of adostra pods at the far end. As with the Point One cavern, there was nothing standing between them and the pods.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Dizz muttered as they gathered outside the archway. “I’m not happy again.”

  “Suck it up, buttercup,” Whist advised. Not that he was exactly thrilled, either. Back at Point One, they’d been greeted by a double row of psyolisks waiting along the sides. Here, with their ammo low and everyone except Erin sporting damaged armor, that would be an unpleasant scenario to deal with. “Okay. Tanya and I’ll go in, back-to-back, and see what’s waiting in the wings. If we come running out again, move to the far wall and get ready to fire. This archway’s pretty wide, but it’s the closest thing we’ve got to a choke point.”

  “Especially since we’ve effectively blocked our exit,” Dizz said. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Still seems like one,” Whist bit out. “We’ve got ammo, a dark templar, and a pyro. Whatever the psyolisks brought to the party, we can match them. Come on, Tanya.”

  He started forward, his torso and C-14 half turned to the right. Tanya walked at his side, her attention half turned to the left. They eased through the archway…

  “Well?” Dizz prompted. “What have we got?”

  Whist swallowed hard. “The reception committee I wanted,” he said, eyeing the double line of zerg standing motionless at the far side of the chamber. “More zergling
s. About…got to be thirty just on this side.”

  “Same number over here,” Tanya said, her voice taut. “Also drawn up in two lines. There are three psyolisks skulking in the back trying not to be seen.”

  Whist peered closer at his lineup. “Yeah, there are four on this side,” he said. “Missed them before.”

  “So what are you waiting for?” Dizz said. “Take them out.”

  No. Ulavu spoke up urgently. You must not harm the psyolisks.

  “But they’re hurting you,” Erin said.

  They are also surely keeping the zerglings in check, Ulavu said. If they are killed, Tanya Caulfield and Sergeant Foster Cray will be immediately attacked.

  Whist scowled. He was right. There was no reason why the zerglings should still be sitting there unless the psyolisks were forcing them to do so.

  “I don’t think so,” Erin said. “Remember what happened at Point One. We were attacked outside and driven in, but once we killed the psyolisks all the rest of the zerg outside dispersed. Probably went back under the control of the local broodmother.”

  “Who’d been ordered not to attack us,” Dizz added. “She may be right.”

  She may also be only partially correct, Ulavu warned. We were within the chamber for several minutes after the psyolisks died. Similarly, at Focal Point Two, the protoss and terrans were incapacitated for a time after the disruptor blast. The broodmother may require that time to reassert her control once the psyolisks are gone.

  “We don’t know that,” Erin pointed out.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Whist said. “Even if it only took a minute for the broodmother to take control, we’d still be toast. There’s no way we can take sixty zerglings in a mad rush.”

  “I’m just wondering if Ulavu’s judgment might be a little clouded,” Erin muttered. “They’ve been talking in his head all this time—”

  There has been no speech, Ulavu insisted. It is pressure and a loss of combat focus. Nothing more.

  “Loss of focus means they’re getting to your intellect,” Erin persisted. “If they are—”