"good for me that I have storm and he not :)"
-Necrosausage!
|
| Death from Above: part 1 | | | Author: | | | IP: | p121.netXXXX | | Date: | 06/03/00 05:06 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 0, Max: , Min:
Lifetime Rating for Belt: 5.6667 | | The colony stretched as far as the eye -or the heatsensor- could see. Rocks and trees and even the native animal life -all had been swallowed by the relentless advance of
the Creep. And with the Creep, as always, came the Zerg, countless shrieking beasts ravaging the length and breadth of their domain, mercilessly butchering any living
thing other than their own foul kind.
Where the Zerg came, there was little choice but to flee or to fight. Today, the choice had been to fight.
A pack of Zerglings ran across the Creep-covered plain, howling to each other as they tracked the scent, the comforting presence of the Overmind heavy inside their simple
brains. The pack leader paused as the trail linked with several others, which then proceeded in the same direction before vanishing completely. This puzzled the Zerglings.
Like most of their kin, they were not particularly blessed with intelligence. They did, however, possess a certain cunning when it came to the hunt, a remnant, perhaps, of
the genetic traits they had inherited from the original dune-runners. Where had the trail gone?
Several of the pack circled around in search of the scent, but it had well and truly vanished. What did this mean? Where had the prey gone? A deep shadow fell over the
growling pack, startling them into silence. They sky overhead was suddenly filled with a vast shape, a form which, to their heat-sensing eyes, was lit by a deep red glow.
The Zerglings howled at the massive object, not recognizing it but hating it nonetheless. The Overmind reacted differently, and a moment later, the pack scattered in all
directions, each member running all-out.
Too late.
The air was torn by an ear-splitting roar as columns of blazing electric fire poured from the battleship's guns. The Zerglings died in an instant, their bodies reduced to vapor
and ash. The ground where they had been was scorched clean, and buried rocks in the area exploded from the intense heat. The Creep fared no better than the Zerglings,
and a wide swathe of the stuff was razed from existence.
When the destructive rain ceased, a single form staggered away from the edge of the burned-out crater. The Zergling's pain was beyond the vicious little beast's ability to
comprehend, beyond even its ability to regenerate. But galvanized by the will of the Overmind, the broken body turned about to face the region where the enemy was
beginning to appear. For as long as its charred lungs could draw breath, the Zergling would continue to observe. And its hive-mates would use what it saw to- A second
shadow, much smaller, fell over the smoking Zergling, and it looked up. The fuzzy blotch in its vision radiated heat, and it hissed and attempted to rise.
David shook his head as the dying creature attempted to pull itself up and attack him. What was left of its arm could not even rise under its own power. The Zergling
seemed to realize this as well, and let its arm fall with a whimper of frustration. David shrugged and pulled the trigger, sending a round of depleted uranium into what was
left of the body, putting it out of its misery. It wasn't an act of mercy, by any means, but an act of defense. If that little monster had seen what was coming, it could have
been more deadly than any of its larger cousins.
With the landing site secured and roaming patrols already taking up their defensive positions, the dropships began to touch down in groups, unloading enough finely-tuned
military hardware to level a small city. Hopefully, it'd be enough to take out this Zerg colony with a minimum of fuss and bother.
David wasn't betting on it, though. Of all the marines assigned to this mission, he was one of maybe a dozen who'd actually seen combat against the Zerg. The memories
weren't pleasant, to say the least. Every time David closed his eyes, he could see the faces of his platoon from the massacre at Rigel 9, or the reserve squad on Darious,
or that dying boy at Zelas Delta...
He shook his head to clear the visions. Today, maybe, there'd be some payback. Just then, his comline activated. "Lieutenant Carter, this is Command 3. Do you copy?"
"I copy, Command. Go ahead."
"Forward patrol seven has reported a sighting of enemy forces in grid 19. Proceed there and back 'em up. Squads six and fifteen are en route." David sighed. The eager
idiots would probably rush into a trap and get themselves killed without somebody along to hold their hands.
"Roger, Command. Squad ten is on the move. I'm out." David killed the comline, then turned to his squad. "Hear that, people? Grid 19. All weapons out, safeties off. If you
see anything moving that isn't Terran, waste it. Understand?" The four junior marines nodded. "Then let's move."
Grid 19 proved pretty quiet. David's squad arrived just ahead of the other reinforcements, to find patrol seven hunkered down behind a rocky bluff in defensive positions.
"What's the situation?" The patrol commander, a man probably five years younger than David, motioned for the senior Lieutenant to take a look over the edge of the bluff.
David did that, then muttered several choice curses before sending a transmission.
"This is Lieutenant Carter to Command 3, come in Command 3."
"Command 3 here, Lieutenant. What's the status in grid 19?"
"Bug city, Command. I count at least sixty hostiles in defensive positions around a couple of buildings. Hard to tell from this distance, but I think they've got one of those
tunnels up here. Check, that, Command 3, I KNOW it's a tunnel; more hostiles coming out of it. Twenty or more now." There was a moment of silence.
"Lieutenant, what is the composition of the enemy forces?" David looked up again, examining the swarm. "Hydras for the most part, Command, but I count a couple of
Drones and two Ultras. Also some fliers, but I can't be sure which breed from here. Ten Overlords in all, but no sign of Queens or Defilers."
"Roger that, Lieutenant. Hold position and await further instructions. Command 3 out." David shook his head, then took stock of his own forces. Between the advance patrol
and the three squads, he had twenty marines and seven firebats, plus one Ghost operative who was checking his suit's power systems. Twenty-eight troopers against
twice their number in assorted Zerg ground forces and air support. Just bloody wonderful.
"Okay, people, you heard the Command. Defensive positions on this side of the ridge, marines flanking firebats three-to-one. NOBODY shoot anything until we get the
go-ahead from Command AND I tell you it's okay, got that?" Most of the younger marines muttered unflattering remarks at that, but their older comrades nodded and
smiled crookedly. They took up their positions and leaned back on the rock. David motioned the Ghost over. "I don't suppose there's any chance we could get you to call
down a nuke for us, is there?" The covert operative shook his head. David couldn't see his face, but he got the impression the Ghost was smiling.
"Sorry. Orders from upstairs are that no nukes are deployed except as clean-up." The agent's black-armored shoulders shrugged. "Too bad, though. Got us a nice open
target down there, and... Now what in the world is that?" David looked to where the Ghost was pointing. Off in the distance, something big and FAST was approaching their
position. The marines raised their weapons to the sky, ready to open fire in a heartbeat. The comline buzzed on once more.
"Lieutenant Carter, this is Command 3. A battalion of Goliaths and Arclites is moving into place around your position, and a wing of Wraiths is en route from Home Plate.
Their ETA is 2 minutes, 31 seconds. Once everybody's there, feel free to start the party." David grinned, but his eyes did not leave the low-flying blotch on the horizion.
"I copy Command 3, but we've got another problem here. We've got an unidentified at six o'clock, coming in low and fast. I take it that's not our fighter support?"
"No, Lieutenant, that is definitely NOT anything of ours. We can't get a reading on it from here. Hold your position until you know what it is, then radio back, got that?"
"I copy, Command. Talk to you again in a few. Carter out."
The shadowy blur was moving at a frightening velocity, covering several dozen kilometers in an eyeblink. It was quickly revealed to be a mass of smaller objects, objects
which glinted in the bright light of this world's twin suns. "Well," one of the young marines said with a grin, "they're not Zerg, that's for sure." Several of his buddies nodded
in agreement, looking relieved.
"I hate to burst your bubble, Private," David said, "but if they're not Zerg, and they're not ours, what does that leave?" The question seemed to confuse the younger marines,
but the veterans tightened their grips on their weapons. The Ghost took the safeties off his heavy rifle.
"Protoss. As if we didn't have ENOUGH trouble."
he Protoss vessels were closing in rapidly, though whether their target was the swarming Zerg outpost or the entrenched Terran forces surrounding it, only they
themselves knew for sure. David wasn't taking any chances, and had pulled his squad and the other marines back from their initial position. There had been some heated
discussion with the leader of the forward patrol about that, but when David had explained the vulnerability of the position to an air attack, the younger lieutenant had been
the first to move out.
Now, the marines were setting up shop on a higher crag of rock, some distance back from the Zerg colony. David hoped that the height of the escarpment would give them
a better shot at the fast-moving Protoss ships, while the extra distance would keep any curious Zerg from arriving in the middle of a firefight. Then too, if the Zerg did show
up, the marines would have a large batch of very heavy rocks to roll down at them. Some of the marines had scoffed at the idea of using such a primitive form of combat
when they had high-powered assault gear at their disposal, but the more experienced troopers -the Ghost and several Firebats among them- had sided with David's plan,
and that was that.
All they could do now was wait.
The massive Protoss carrier drifted low over the rocky surface, flanked by transports and scouts in an intimidating battle formation, the smaller craft hugging close to the
carrier like children to an adult. These were no children, however, but a battle-hardened detachment of the Templar battlefleet, experienced Protoss warriors eagerly
awaiting their next battle and the inevitable victory.
On the bridge of the carrier, the commander of the strike force considered the readings on the screens before him. Ar'Adun Teth was young, to hold the post of Templar
Commander, not more than a century past the Rite of Sta'Tohk which indoctrinated young Protoss into the ranks of the order as fighting Zealots. But Ar'Adun was different
from his fellow Zealots. From the moment when he completed the sacred rite, he knew that he was destined for something greater than his comrades. Where other Zealots
surrendered totally to the Ka'Doth, the instinctive Protoss battle fury, Ar'Adun maintained his hold on reason, balancing his rage and ferocity with his intellect. He became
all the more fearsome in combat, earning the respect of his brothers and sisters and the attention of the High Templars. At the age of 194, Ar'Adun had been called before
the Templar Lords, and was there judged fit for the honor of command. In a few short decades, Ar'Adun had gone from being a lowly soldier to the leader of an elite force,
the Golden Rage, among the most skilled and respected warriors in the Empire. His future might someday hold the honor of High Templar, perhaps even as a member of
the Templar Lords.
But that was for the future. Now, Ar'Adun had been given a mission of great importance, one that only his force had been judged capable of undertaking.
The Zerg abominations had recently, by some unknown means, established a thriving colony on the world of Vorda. Even the best engineers and biologists of the Empire
had yet to discover how the Zerg spread their infection through space, but Vor was too close to a number of vulnerable colonies, too valuable as a staging point for further
Zerg attacks, to allow this new hive to become fully established. It must be cleansed, quickly and without mercy. And now, as the ships and warriors of the Golden Rage
neared their target, the Observers which Ar'Adun had ordered dispatched to examine the colony for weaknesses had detected a massive force of Terrans entering the target
area, apparently with the same intent as the Golden Rage.
The Terrans were an enigma to Ar'Adun and many of his fellow commanders. Though their minds were primitive, lacking all but the most basic of psionic powers, they
commanded sufficient numbers and technology to stand against the invincible forces of the Empire and the maurauding Zerg hordes.
What is their secret? Ar'Adun wondered. How do they survive, so small and weak? And how will their presence affect our plans this day?
Your orders, Commander?"
Ar'Adun turned to his second, Eam'Loss. A good soldier, a good friend. Ar'Adun valued his second's patience and calmness even in the face of great danger.
"What do you think, Eam?" Eam'Loss paused, the glow of his eyes dimming as he considered the question.
"Our orders were to engage the Zerg," the Protoss second began, "and we gathered sufficient forces to deal with a hive. We did not know of the Terran presence when we
left Menar. As it stands, I believe the Golden Rage could defeat either enemy force."
Ar'Adun did not miss the implied meaning, and completed it with a wry twist to his mind-voice.
"Either, but not both at once. I concurr, Eam. So we are left with the question of how to proceed. Our orders on this mission were to destroy the Zerg presence -that this
must be done, I accept. But we also have our standing orders from the Templar Lords to consider. Terran forces are not to be permitted to enter Imperial space, and if we
leave them here on Vorda, we are inviting the same danger that the Zerg now present. Nonetheless, I cannot justify risking our forces against Terran heavy artillery when our
real target is the Zerg hive." Ar'Adun sat back in his chair, his eyes glowing a pale grey, a sign of careful thought as he worked his way through the problem. "If we continue
on this heading, we will pass very close to a large group of Terran ground forces, and I think we both know what their reaction to our presence will be." Eam'Loss shook his
head, his eyes green. "And our reaction to their reaction will, by necessity, be to defend ourselves. And then..." Ar'Adun took up the thought. "And then, the Zerg will hit us
from behind from their outpost. At that point, we lose the fight and fail our mission. So we cannot continue on this course."
"But this is the quickest route to the Zerg outpost," Eam'Loss reminded him, "and until we have neutralized that threat, we cannot risk attacking the main hive." Ar'Adun
began drumming his fingers along the control console, thinking. Then something occured to him, something which lit up his eyes with a bright golden glow. Eam'Loss
recognized this look; it always preceeded one of Ar'Adun's more innovative decisions. Still, even the loyal second of the Golden Rage was caught off-guard by his
commander's next thought. "Sir! You cannot be considering... THAT?" Ar'Adun looked at his friend, whose eyes were now a shifting indigo of stunned confusion.
"I believe I am, Eam. Do not worry; if the Templar Lords call us to judgement for this decision, I will take full responsibility for whatever consequences they decide to hand
down." Ar'Adun turned in his seat to begin working at his station. "Contact all ships in the flight, Eam'Loss, and advise them to hold position. This is going to be hard
enough as is."
"Now what are they up to?"
"Beats me, private." David was just as confused as the younger marine, but he tried not to let it show. "I've fought Protoss once or twice before, and I don't claim to
understand how those glowing-eyed giants think, but I'm just as happy that SOMETHING made them stop where they are." The younger marine thought about that.
"Do you think it's us, sir? Do you think we scared 'em?"
"I'd put my money on the tanks, kid. Even Protoss have to respect an Arclite, and we've got at least three squads of them out here, to say nothing of how many of our
buddies are parked back over those mountains." David looked around. The green troops were holding up pretty well, considering the fact that their first real battle was likely
to be one of those rock-and-a-hard place bits that were the stuff of every veteran's nightmares. The veterans in the group were relaxed, saving up their energy for the fight
rather than waste it in idle chatter. And the Ghost... Well, it was really hard to tell what a Ghost was thinking, but this one was currently checking a series of panels on the
arm of his sensor suit and muttering. "Something interesting, I take it?" "Don't know if interesting is the word I'd use," the agent said. "That attack group has stopped
moving, but the comsat uplink shows at least a dozen of those damn cloaked robo-probes of theirs running around."
"Scouting the area, huh? Great." David rotated his neck around, working out the stiffness. "What's the ETA on that Wraith group?" "I make it less than thirty seconds.
There." The Ghost pointed at a shimmering blur approaching from the southwest. "They're flying low and using brief bursts of cloaking to keep out of sight, but I'd bet my
optic sensors that the Protoss have seen them." A loud bleep went off in the mass of lights on the Ghost's arm. "What the... I'm reading a small object headed this way
from the carrier. Looks like a probe, but no trace of weapons or explosives. What are they up to?"
"Guess we're about to find out," David said. "It's headed this way." The comlink in his helmet buzzed to life.
"Lieutenant Carter, your Wraith support has arrived. What's the delay?"
"Command, I'm assuming you're getting the same sensor readings from comsat as our Ghost is, right?"
"Yes. What's your point?" Bloody fleet officers, David thought. Too much time in a vacuum did funny things to a man's brains.
"Command, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not get my boys blown up between two superior forces. You can court-martial me if you want, but I'm not going anywhere
until I know what that Protoss attack group is up to. And could you tell the Wraiths to back off? If they get much closer, the Zerg are going to see them." There was a
moment of silence in which David was ready to kiss his enlisted status good-bye. Command didn't sound too happy when they responded.
"Understood, Lieutenant. We will divert the Wraiths back to dropzone Beta. ETA on the second wave of transports is ten minutes. You have five to get moving. Command
OUT."
"Well," David sighed, "that probably just killed my chances at a pension. Where's that probe?" As if in response, the metallic disk-shaped robot rose into view before him,
emitting a steady electrical hum. David raised his rifle out of instinct, then lowered it. This one probe, unarmed, slow-moving, and not much larger than his own body, wasn't
a threat to four massed infantry squads. When the holographic image of the Protoss head appeared above the probe, though, David had some serious second thoughts.
"DO I ADDRESS THE COMMANDER OF THE TERRAN FORCES?"
"Not by a longshot, brighteyes," David replied, "but I'm the ranking officer in this group. What do you want?" The disembodied holographic head tilted slightly to one side,
and the eyes shifted to a purplish glow. David knew that color change in Protoss eyes reflected some emotional change, but he had no idea if purple was good or not.
Apparently, it wasn't bad, because the voice kept going.
"I AM COMMANDER AR'ADUN, OF THE IMPERIAL ATTACK FORCE, GOLDEN RAGE. I WISH TO DISCUSS A TEMPORARY TRUCE."
The reaction on the other end of the comlink was pretty much what David had expected: loud, threatening, superior, and more irritating than a fly trapped inside your
helmet. He endured it with good humor, reminding himself that the men and women aboard the cruisers WERE, almost without exception, officers of one rank or another,
all of whom stood high above him in the hierarchy. When the com operator started questioning David's mental health, though, he decided that enough was enough.
"Look, mister, I'm just relaying the message the probe gave to us. Listen carefully this time; I'll use small words so you understand. The Protoss commander knows we're
here. He's already informed his superiors, and additional Protoss groups are already on the move. He wants to meet with the leader of our forces and discuss a temporary
truce to deal with the Zerg. I'm not too keen on trying to fight the Prots and the bugs at the same time, so I agreed to give him safe conduct to our dropsite."
"Do you have any idea what you've done, Lieutenant? You've just destroyed five months..."
"Command, shut up. I KNOW what the big plan was for this place. I KNOW the big brass wanted to turn it into a forward base for staging attacks on the Prots, and I
KNOW that my actions have shot that plan all to hell. I don't really care. As far as I'm concerned, the brainiacs who decided to take this place can take their grand
schemes and shove 'em. Did it ever occur to them that the Protoss weren't going to stand by and let a hostile force get this close to their space without taking action?"
"Lieutenant, your actions are grossly insuboordinate. You're looking at a court martial, mister, and..."
"And I don't really care, Command." David shook his head. "Look, assuming I get off of this rock alive, you can lock me up at the back end of the galaxy for the rest of my
natural life. Right now, I'm bringing our guests back to base. Try not to let the boys blow us up, okay? Carter out." David cut the link before Command could protest any
further, and looked around at his men. "Well, if anybody wants to lodge an official protest, now's the time. I'll take the blame for this, but you can haul your own butts out of
the fire right now." The marines exchanged glances. One of the younger ones shrugged and then spoke up.
"No protests here, sir. We weren't too keen on the idea of an all-out war anyway." David grinned.
"Alright then. Let's form up and go greet our guests."
Only six Protoss disembarked from the shuttle, but they were an intimidating sight. Four wore the conventional battle armor of the Zealot forces, the automated heavy
combat gear which most Terrans didn't live long after seeing. David wasn't certain if his whole massed group would be enough to take on just those four; he'd seen the
speed at which Zealots moved in battle, despite their backwards-hinged knees, and the damage wrought by their psionic blades was frightening on a whole new level.
Fortunately, these Protoss warriors weren't surrounded by the faint blue aura which would have indicated the presence of active shields. The lead figure, the commander
whose image David had spoken with atop the bluff, wore armor similar to the lower-ranking soldiers, but more compact-looking and with a few adornments that the Zealots
lacked. He was also a good half a meter taller than the Zealots, who towered over the Terrans; whether that was some function of his higher office due to genetic
engineering or just a personal trait, David didn't know.
It was the sixth figure that held his attention, however. Shorter than the Zealots and lacking any sort of armor or visible weapon, the Protoss wore ceremonial robes bearing
strange symbols. There was a slim chance that he and his troops could take on the Zealots and the commander; the High Templar, though, could easily melt them in their
boots and move on in search of more fun without missing a beat. The small group stopped a short distance from the Terrans, and the leader looked down at David.
AS AGREED, WE HAVE COME. YOU ARE TO BE THE ESCORT?
"Yes." David did his best to sound respectful; that voice had rumbled through his mind like a muted thunderclap. The Protoss leader nodded.
THEN WE GO.
Apparently, Command had relayed the message about not shooting at the incoming unit, because no gunfire rang out to greet the arrival of the scouting teams. It was a
good question as to who in the group was really escorting whom; next to the huge Protoss, David and his men felt small and insignificant in virtually every detail.
The meeting site had been set up quickly, in the tent which was temporarily serving as the coordination center for the operation. Here, flanked by a squad of Ghosts and
elite marines in black and gold armor, the commander of the Terran forces, Admiral Peterson, waited for the Protoss to arrive. David's marines came to a stop before the
Admiral and saluted, which he returned before dismissing them. David turned to leave with the rest.
"Lieutenant Carter, is it? Please remain. Agent Larson, Sergeant Brooks, your presence may be required as well." David turned back to the Admiral, as did the Ghost and
one of the firebats. Once the marines had left, the Admiral turned to the Protoss. "I am Admiral Ian Peterson, commander of the fifth interstellar fleet, and the appointed
field commander of this operation."
I AM AR'ADUN TETH, COMMANDER OF THE IMPERIAL ATTACK WING GOLDEN RAGE. THIS IS OUR ADVISOR, MOST ESTEEMED TEMPLAR ZAND'AKULL.
Admiral Peterson nodded to the High Templar, who bowed his head but remained silent as Ar'Adun continued. THERE IS NO PROVISION FOR THIS ENCOUNTER IN
OUR PROTOCOL, SO I SHALL... The Protoss commander paused, his eyes turning to purple from the steady yellow they had been. I BELIEVE THE EXPRESSION IN
YOUR LANGUAGE IS 'GET DOWN TO BUSINESS.' IS THAT NOT SO? Admiral Peterson nodded. A CURIOUS EXPRESSION. VERY WELL. WE HAVE BEEN
OBSERVING YOUR ACTIVITIES ON VORDA, AND WE HAVE CONCLUDED THAT YOUR IMMEDIATE GOAL IS THE ELIMINATION OF THE ZERG PRESENCE.
CORRECT?
"Yes, that is correct. Like you, the establishment of a Zerg colony on this world would put them within striking distance of several important worlds. We cannot permit that."
IT IS MUCH THE SAME FOR US. HOWEVER, YOUR FORCES HERE ARE MORE THAN ADEQUATE TO REMOVE THE HIVE. FROM THIS, WE CONCLUDE THAT IT
IS YOUR INTENT TO ESTABLISH YOUR OWN PRESENCE ON VORDA ONCE YOU HAVE DEALT WITH THE ZERG. CORRECT?
"Yes." The Admiral's mouth was twisted a bit as he spoke.
YOU MUST REALIZE WE CANNOT PERMIT THAT.
"True, but you must realize that WE cannot permit YOUR presence here either."
INDEED. WHICHEVER SIDE HOLDS THIS WORLD WOULD HAVE A TACTICAL ADVANTAGE TOO GREAT TO BE INGORED BY THE OTHER.
"So what do you propose we do about it?"
AN AGREEMENT THAT, ONCE THE ZERG PRESENCE IS REMOVED, BOTH SIDES WILL LEAVE VORDA AND NOT RETURN. YOUR SPECIES HAS A WORD FOR
THIS. A 'TREATY?'
"Are you entrusted with the authority to approve a treaty? One that your government will honor?"
HE IS NOT. This came from the High Templar. AR'ADUN RISKS MUCH IN BEING HERE, KHIN'ETH, BUT HE DOES SO TO PRESERVE LIVES. HE MUST ANSWER TO
THE TEMPLAR LORDS FOR HIS ACTIONS ON THIS WORLD, BUT UNTIL SUCH TIME AS THAT HAPPENS, I SPEAK FOR THE TEMPLAR LORDS. The High Templar
paused, apparently considering his next words. I WILL AUTHORIZE THE AGREEMENT. REGARDLESS OF THE OUTCOME, THE TEMPLAR LORDS WILL HONOR IT.
The High Templar, David noted, had an even deeper rumble to his 'voice' than the Protoss commander.
"Very well."
The signing of the treaty of Vorda was a rather unique event. The document which was produced was drafted in the standard, no-nonsense tongue of the Terran
beauraucracy, but interspersed with words and phrases from the peculiar Protoss dialect. The signatures of the two Protoss leaders were even more unusual, consisting of
oddly compelling whirls and sweeps.
Once the treaty was signed and safely stored in the files of both the Terran and Protoss ships, Admiral Peterson and Ar'Adun began discussing deployment of forces. As
they spoke, David noticed that the High Templar was looking carefully at many of the marines in the area, his eyes glowing pale blue. The High Templar's gaze met David's
own, and for a moment, David could hear the rumbling voice.
THE LINES OF THE GESTALT HAVE LINKED HERE, KHIN'ETH. I SEE A JIAM'AKRA FORMING, AND YOU ARE SOMEHOW CONNECTED TO IT. CURIOUS.
When their eyes separated, the mindlink broke.
The Zerg colony had less chance than the proverbial snowball in hell.
The initial stage of the attack had been an intense Arclite bombardment of the forward defense colony, a rain of plasma-charged annihilation which left dozens of Zerg lying
about in piles, their bodies seared to charred husks in seconds. The Overmind's reaction was to dispatch every Mutalisk and Guardian in could muster against the
air-vulnerable tanks, while a hidden army of entrenched Hydralisks and Zerglings rose from their holes to tear apart the tanks' Goliath and Marine support.
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