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| Spoils of War | | | Author: | | | IP: | as13-harXXXX | | Date: | 01/21/03 03:01 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 6, Min: 6
Lifetime Rating for Versetti: 6.0000 |  | This is the first half of a two-part story called “Spoils of War”. Essentially, it is about a post-apocalyptic Auir where war has made Auir a wasteland. The Protoss have abandoned their homeworld and now a Terran commander and Zerg operative fight for the spoils of war. It has been years since the end of Brood Wars and each race has a few new toys to play with. Hope you like it and please rate or comment.
The spinning, whirling heads mounted on top of layer after layer of thick, titanium alloy reinforced by the crystalline mineral developments protecting sophisticated anti-stealth, detection, and lock on technologies made up the primary defense visible around the huge, crash-landed behemoth battlecruiser.
The monstrous capital ship, the Iron Rock, had crashed several days ago after a skirmish with the Zerg. And in the four days, the crash-site had been shifted into one of the most impressive fortresses in the Koprulu Sector. The “hammerhead” of the ship had plowed right through the mountain, leaving the “neck” of the ship, as well as the entire engine housing, and half of the hanger bay buried under the mineral-rich mountainside.
The area itself was located in a narrow, narrow valley, barely holding the irreparable Yamato Battlecruiser. The wings of the ship were only twenty feet on either side from the walls of the red-rock canyon on the ruined homeworld of Auir.
Lining the edges of the cliffs on either side were the huge missile turrets. Normal, to the visible eye, but the missile firing platform had been replaced, taking away the longbolt missiles, and furnishing the new Hell-Fire Anti-Air Missile pack that was outfitted on all of the Goliath class battlesuits. The automated systems kept the housing platform whirling around, constantly searching for an enemy unit to be taken out of the sky.
Protruding from the wall that the battlecruiser had plowed through, the very tip of the bridge of the cruiser could be seen, with scaffolding around the nozzle that fired that Yamato Cannon, the namesake of the cruiser. The Yamato Cannon was the brainchild of Confederate Scientists on Tarsonis before its untimely demise at the hands of the voracious Zerg species. Using an intense magnifying field to focus small nuclear explosions into a cohesive beam of energy, it is a most impressive weapon, to say the least.
The Cruiser itself seemed unaffected, but if one checked their radar equipment closely, one would notice a slight difference between the Iron Rock and other Yamato Battlecruisers; an energy field. It was identical to the Protoss Psionic Fields that surrounded their ships and ground troops. It kept the rock from actually touching the hull of the Terran ship, and for this, the one-man crew was most thankful.
The open area of the cul-de-sac the cruiser had crash-landed into was a narrow valley that opened up into a huge, barren desert, obviously the place of a barrage of mini-nukes dropped by the Confederacy decades ago. That field was dotted with radar blips, but nothing was visible to the eye.
These were the effect of three days of constant replenishing of Vulture Hovercycles with Spider Mines. The four legged kamikaze mines were nothing more than advanced magnitized mines with a computer system allowing the mechanical monsters to scuttle towards an enemy that got too close on the ground.
The most narrow point to the valley, which had recently been dubbed “Yamato Canyon” because of the battlecruiser was lined along the walls with 20mm autocannons that popped from the walls as an enemy stopped by, and unloaded the cartridges of spikes into an opponent before sliding back into the wall to wait for the nanite factory in the bowels of the machine to create a new cartridge which would be fired as soon as another opponent got careless.
Along the ground in the choke-point were plasma based perdition flame-throwers that were considered “Floor traps” that flipped out of the ground, and fired twin sprays of liquid fire onto an enemy, only to disappear and allow for the firing nozzles to cool down enough to be fired once more without risk of malfunction.
On the upper walls of the cliffs past the choke point were Arclite 120mm cannons, obviously removed from the Siege Tanks that accompanied so many squads of marines on skirmishes on the ground.
Lining the west wing of the Iron Rock were twenty Scavenger hovercycles, AKA Vultures. They were lifeless at the moment, resting on their metallic stomachs, dust covering the usually shining exterior. The pilots of the machines obviously hadn’t been around for a while, because Vulture pilots were infamous for caring more for their bikes than for their friends.
One could hardly blame them. Vulture pilots spent more time above the ground than on it, and the ion thrusters had more than likely saved the lives more times than they would care to remember.
The hanger bay doors hung open like the jaw of some great, toothless monster, threatening swallow anything into its blackened maw. Towards the back of the wall sat nearly an entire fleet of Wraiths, Valkyries, and amazingly, 5 Protoss Scouts. They were unusable to Terran, who hadn’t the knowledge of the Protoss’ advanced technologies, or the Psionic emanations to start up the pylon-based machinery. And lining another wall, sat two squads, 24 shining, perfect Condition Kel-Morian Goliath Heavy Assault Battlesuits.
The right hanger bay was closed up tightly, locking out any natural light, leaving the stadium-like room lit by only the luminescent lights from the high ceiling. The makings of a ComSat station were already in progress.
Then, what no one could see, and probably the most technologically advanced research facility in the entire Koprulu Sector, was being built deep underneath the ground where the Battlecruiser had landed. After two days of construction, the marvel of science was nearly completed. It had the researching capabilities of a Science Facility, with both attached Physics Lab and Cover Ops centers, that of an Engineering Bay, an Academy, an Armory, a Star Port’s Control Tower, a Machine Shop, and a Nuclear/Biological research facility.
It took up nearly fifty times the Behemoth Battlecruiser’s size and half of the work for the crew of SCVs was already completed. All they had to do was layer the massive cavern with thick walls of titanium to keep the ground from collapsing in on the cavern. The areas were separated like warehouses, one dedicated to the Science Facility, another for the Physics Lab, yet another for the Covert Ops (This area required special clearance from the automated defense system covering the only entrance to the sector), still more for each of the other areas: The Engineering Bay, the Academy, the Armory, the Control Tower, the Machine Shop, and the Nuclear/Biological research facility.
The area itself was thee floors thick, and three battlecruisers in diameter at any given point in the cylindrical shaped base. It was a safe-haven, a defensive parameter, a city, and a government installation all at once, and it all belonged to one man: James Rialak, the last in the ruling “Empire” of the Terran factions, also the Prince of Moria.
He had taken a precaution against Protoss and Zerg Cerebrates. There was a net just under the surface of the dust-layered ground. A Psi dampening field, blocking out the psionic waves the Protoss fed off of, and denying the Zerg Cerebrates the ability to control their broods. Protoss entering the netted area, covering the entire canyon, and far beyond it, feel a loss of the link with the Kahla, making them feel afraid, lost, and confused. The Dark Templar, those who never accepted the Kahla feel somewhat sick, physically ill and their bending of the shadows is rendered useless.
And this was his base, and soon, it would be far greater...
Xal'Gathar stood uneasily in the wreckage of the battlefield on the other side of Aiur. He could still feel the burning, almost frightning power of something that had yet to be documented in Protoss History. He could feel the Khaydarin energies eminating from the torched field, mingled with the sickening scent of blood and the sight of Zerg, Protoss, and Terran torn to shreds. But the Khaydarin energies weren't the only Protoss signature in the area. Waves of the Argus energy from beyond the Void were just as present as the Khaydarin residue left on the bodies of all on the field.
It made him sick, almost, to realize just what all of this meant. Now he just had to find a way off of the accursed planet and back to the fleet, which had more than likely jumped to Aiur already.
His eyes twitched slightly, and tried to focus in on the figure moving in the middle of the battlefield. It was a long ways off, and Xal'Gather began trecking off into the distance, his heavy Zealot Armor clunking along with each drop of a foot. He kept his eyes routed on the figure, which was becoming more and more discernable. It was another Protoss!
"My brother! How is it you have survived this?" He called out through the telepathic link. There was no response... Could it have been a Dark Templar? One of the Void here? Surely they would have perished early in the battle... But as Xal'Gather came closer to the other Protoss, it was obvious that he was not one of the Khala. The dark black garments, the lack of nerve appendages, and the sickening waves of the Void breaking his link with the Khala.
The figure picked itself off of the ground and turned to the Zealot Warrior that continued towards him. Straining to use the link he'd not used in over 5 millenia, Arow spoke to the only other surviving creature within 10 miles.
“How is it you have survived this massacre, High One?” His telepathic voice was harsh, and there was enough poison on the term High One make a Hydralisk sick.
Xal’Gather stopped 10 Protoss paces from the Dark Templar, and stared for a moment. This was the center of the field... and there weren’t just Argus energies surrounding the Dark Templar, or, rather, the cause of the deaths of everyone on the scorched ground of the once open field.
“Answer me!” His voice was at a dangerous low, still retaining the harsh tone.
Grudgingly, the Zealot answered, “I was not here for the massacre you’ve caused to our bretheren, the Terran, and the vile Zerg,” He was not proud that he had been on a scouting mission with two others to protect the rear of the small expedition force to study the battle between the Zerg and Protoss when the battle had taken place. His brothers, T’kal and Sh’sha were dead, Xal’Gather barely surviving the surprise attack from the Lurkers beneath the ground.
It was violent, and very present in his mind, even now as he faced down what he could only consider the opposite of Adun. No, that was wrong, the opposite of Mighty Tassadar. This was like him, able to channel both Dark Templar and High Templar energies, but not in the heroic way of the great Protoss hero who had destroyed the wretched Overmind so long ago. This was an abomination... a sickening creature.
He had been walking silently along with his two brothers, when T’kal had slipped in the first signs of the creep. Then all he could remember clearly was T’kal barely raising his shield up before huge spikes burst from under the earth, and flunk all three of them backwards. They had lit their psionic blades, and began stabbing angrily at the ground, hoping to stab at the unseen foe that they knew as Lurkers. To no avail, however, until the shield of Sh’sha failed, and he was gripped violently in the dripping mandibles of 3 Lurkers who had unburrowed long enough to grab him. T’kal and Xal’Gathar had violently shredded into the faces of the evolved hydralisks, which only seemed to insite their bbloodlust even more. Sh’sha was literally torn into 3 distinct pieces. A head, a torso, and a pair of thrashing, kicking legs.
Knowing that neither remaining brother could survive, both immediately retreated, realizing that the old Terran saying “Discresion is the better part of valor” was quite true. T’kal had been taken violently by a single Hydralisk who unburrowed from the ground infront of the two.
Xal’Gathar let out a soft mental hiss into his own mind as he recalled how his brother had leapt into the body of the hydralisk, barreling the zerg monster to the ground in a fury of psionic blades, solid kicks, and even tearing at the small mind of the hydralisk with his limited psychic strength. Why could it not have been Xal’Gather who had died and not his brother?
What was left of the hydralisk when his brother finished his honorable attack was quickly beheaded by a sorrow filled Xal’Gathar.
The Zealot stared at Arow, who had “over-heard”, for no term could better describe it, everything.
“I will avenge the deaths of my brethern for your treachery!” Xel’Gathar screamed mentally at the creature infront of him.
With a sudden charge towards Arow, Xal’Gathar charged his psionic blades, and leapt into the air violently at his new found foe. His limbs thrashed violently through the air as he fell towards Arow.
Arow moved like a black lightning bolt, the dark, near invisible warp blade already being brought forward to meet the Zealot. The twin blades of Xal’Gathar crossed with sparks in an X formation intime to block the upwards slash of the Dark Templar weapon on his opponent’s scaley fore-arm.
Xal’Gather was nearly caught off-guard. The strength behind that leap should have smashed Arow backwards, but he stood, almost a statue against the Khala Warrior. He didn’t pause but for the smallest moment to think of it, before he was thrown back violently by a combination of telepathic power and the push of the warp blade which had entangled with his psionic blades.
He landed on his back, but left the momentum to throw him up onto his feet again. He was met promptly by a strong Protoss punch to the side of his face before he was even on his feet completely. The warp blade from the left hand slammed into his psionic shield just as he brought it up. It dimmed slightly, the usual dark blue aura fading to a very pale color, before his opponent disappeared.
“Fight me like a Warrior, you pathetic excuse for a Protoss!” He screamed, almost in anguish.
He slashed at the air around him violently with the blades on his arm, fueling the white-blue weapons to greater intensity and length. A rock to his right crumbled slightly beneath the weight of another Protoss, and he charged, only to bet met once again by a solid punch, which seemed to go directly through his shield.
Xal’Gathar, might Protoss Warrior of the New Conclave found, for the first time in his life, he was unable to think. He looked down, seeing the reforming of a Protoss Arm, along with the black warp blade attacked to it. The blade was directly through his heart, his armor, his shield, and his pride. The cowardly Protoss had won in a battle, simply by remaining invisible.
It was then he realized that he was no longer on the ground, but he had been thrown violently high into the air, above the now visible Arow. Arow’s left arm was pointed directly at the soaring zealot. Xal’Gathar couln’t move, and he stared death in the face as a Photon beam built up on the arm of Arow, before unleashing with unimaginable heat directly into the face of Xal’Gathar.
The broken, headless body of Xal’Gathar hit the ground a moment later, blue blood leaking from his neck and his chest area. A moment later, blue flames writhed about his body, and he disappeared.
Arow blinked once, and shook his head, dismissing the thoughts running through his head. The last thing he needed right now was his conscience to show up. A huge Arbiter uncloaked above Arow as he leapt onto the awaiting fin of his ship, The New Moon. Stepping through the door, he moved towards the engine room slowly, almost wearily, as if the day’s actions had suddenly hit him. His walk slowed, his vision blurred, his mind weakened as he began to stumble to the engine room.
The door slid open, showing two very, very different sides to the room. One was wreathed in pale blue light, which shone brightly from a crystal-like formation of gems. Khaydarin Crystals. The other side of the room danced in shadow, almost a shining black light. The “light”, if it could be considered such, was cast by a similar formation as the Khaydarin Crystals, but these was far more smooth, and they were the blackest of the void. Argus Gems.
The door slid shut behind him as the cracks of the door suddenly flashed, and what appeared to be sparks from inside the room shone through the reinforced steel door. Brighter than the sun, the energies of Khaydarin and Argus melded, and slammed into the figure of Arow.
He screamed in agony, pain, or perhaps relief, none could be discerned as the shadow and the light spun around him, picking him off of the ground and sinking into his skin as the unholy blue flames engulfed his floating body. The flames shuddered, and pitched into a black color, only to cause him to open his wide, red-eyes as they flashed a calm purple. Then he dropped to the floor, breathing heavily, the light and shadows returning to the walls they were cast upon by the crystals.
The black Arbiter floated gently through the atmosphere, not showing a bit or turbulence inside the crypt-silent ship. It flashed briefly, and vanished from every type of sensor available, including eye-sight as he disappeared into the Void of space.
Kerry sat alone, deep inside the Hive at what used to be Antioch, his new base. Outside, the scorched Aiur soil sweltered, but inside the living building, it was relatively cool.
Not like Kerry cared, though. His rough-scaled humanoid body didn't feel heat or cold. Fire barely registered with him anymore. As evidance of the hundreds of Firebats he'd killed. Thousands of Terrans had fallen before the twisted leader of the Zerg.
He reflected quietly to himself, keeping his thoughts blocked from the cerebrates around the hive cluster. He'd been created, not born... the eager Remnants of the Nova Squadren, they had found the tissue samples taken from his "mother," Sarah Kerrigan. They had cloned him, using the combined genes of several other powerful ghosts, with Kerrigan's primary genes as the base. David... that was his name, not that ghosts in the Terran societies needed them. They were numbers, no different from the innumerous zerg under his control now.
He remembered life as a simple child, 12... he had immense telepathic abilities, just as his mother and fathers had. He was physically stronger than most of the guards on the base on the remnants of Chau Sara. He'd been trained, honed, designed to hunt and destroy zerg. Where his mother had allied, he was to have destroyed.
But then... then something happened. The base was attacked during the sleeping cycle, short as it was. Protoss had amasses, and destroyed everyone there... except for the ghost, David Kerrigan. V0279... that number was imprinted in his mind forever. No matter what happened, he could never forget that number. That's what he was...
He broke from his flashback, and raised his scythe-like claws, before slamming them through a small zergling that walked alongside him at just the wrong moment. An explosion of flesh, blood, and bones erupted from the gaping hole in the zerglings side as he keeled over onto the slime-ridden floor of the hive. The small zerg minion's blood mixed with the "body fluids" of the hive, before the nutrients were re-absorbed from the body, and the flesh was devoured by the creep alon the floor.
He blinked, letting his control slide off to the side as he subconsciously continued with his memory... the Protoss commander... a power, wise High Templar... Aegusthus, he had "taken David in." Aegusthus saw the strength in the young Terran, and began to hone his telepathic abilities far beyond what the Terrans could have done. David was taught the ways of the Khala, the ways that all the Protoss new. He was taught to harness the psionic energies running through him, to channel them through his very body... It didn't take nerve appendages to be with the Khala, it just took concentration...
He had found a place where he was not a number. He was home. It felt right to be with the Protoss. They were wise, powerful... they were everything he admired. It was during a raid on a Zerg base that he discovered the truth.
It was on a small backwater planet in the Sara system. They were to rescue a few Terran Civilians who were barely holding off a zerg rush on their "base."
During the melee fighting, the sounds of zerg being torn to pieces, the sounds of valiant Protoss warriors giving their lives for their cause... David felt something. He felt drawn away from the battle, to the hills.
He severed his link to the Khala, leading Aegusthus and the other Protoss to believe he'd been destroyed, though this was an inadvertant action on David's part. Through the winding caves of the hills around the base, he found what had been calling to him. A zerg cerebrate who identified itself as Chax. Chax had immediately recognized David as the son of Kerrigan, and copied the memories of the young Terran to find out how it had all happened.
His heritage was laid bare before David as he was told of his mother, of how she'd given everything to the swarm, how it was his destiny to become the new leader of the zerg. How it was the will of his mother, one he never new existed, for him to lead the swarms.
It was 5 years later that Kerrigan re-emerged... a vague humanoid figure with talons like scythes, with massive spiked mandibles, clacking foot-claws, an alligator-like hide... it was beautiful, to him, to the cerebrated... to the zerg.
The zerg were united under a new ruler once more... immediately taking control of the zerrg swarms, he changed their "passive until attacked" formation into "hostile swarming." It was an unexpected change for the Protoss and Terran enemies, who were caught off-guard by the ferocious attacks that suddenly appeared all over the space-grids.
And that was all 12 years ago, Kerry reflected. Sun was setting, it was time for an attack...
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