StarCraft: Liberty's Crusade (StarCraft: Blizzard Legends) by Jeff Grubb

Author:Jeff Grubb [Grubb, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Blizzard Entertainment, LLC
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

THE WRECK OF THE NORRD II

There’s an old Earth word. Its called schadenfreude—the feeling of elation that comes from learning of the suffering of others. Like when you hear that a rival newsman suddenly was caught cursing in front of a live mike, or that a particularly corrupt alderman just stepped in front of a garbage truck. It’s elation accompanied by that twinge of guilt for feeling so good, and the quiet, fervent prayer that something that bad never happens to you.

With the Protoss and Zerg biting deep into Confederate territory, we had schadenfreude in buckets.

—THE LIBERTY MANIFESTO

OTHER MEN AND WOMEN WENT TO WAR. MIKE returned to Mengsk’s base and monitored the flow of communications. There was the blind panic he had come to expect during warfare—units suddenly cut off and demanding, then pleading for, reinforcements, then relief and finally rescue. Other messages from units that suddenly evaporated in a haze of radiation. And still other messages, these from civilians, asking for help from anyone, on any side.

And then there were the anomalous reports, the ones of monsters suddenly appearing in the countryside, ascribed to the Confederates, or the rebels, or to invasions from beyond. These reports were growing more numerous by the hour, and they convinced Mike that Kerrigan was right: the Zerg were on Antiga.

He wanted to hit the console when that realization sank in. Zerg presence was as good as a cancer diagnosis, and much more fatal. Until they figured out how to defeat them, the Zerg would eat this world alive. Or the Protoss—fatal chemotherapy—would sterilize it to keep the Zerg from spreading.

“But it doesn’t work that way, does it?” said Mike to the comm unit. “A few cells always seem to escape, and the cancer keeps growing.”

The fury he felt in his belly lasted only a moment, then was replaced with amazement as the next message rattled through his earpiece.

“This is General Duke, calling from the Alpha Squadron flagship Norad II! We’ve crash-landed and are being hit hard by the Zerg! Request immediate backup from anyone receiving this signal! Repeat, this is a priority one distress call. This is General Duke …”

The distress call went into a loop, and Michael listened to it three more times before checking the other channels.

There were a couple calls asking for confirmation, and a plethora of other responses, describing attacks by the Zerg and Antigan rebels, and in one case, an assault by other Confederate forces. And there were now reports of Protoss ships in-system, fighting something themselves, probably Zerg similar to the ones that brought down the Norad II, out in the outer rim of ice worlds. There were even some reports of Protoss ground forces appearing. There was a lot of noise, but nothing that resembled an honest, solid offer of help.

He’s cooked, thought Michael. Old Duke’s goose is finally cooked.

Raynor stormed in about ten minutes later. “Mike, you’re with me. Suit up.”

“What’s up?” Mike asked, reaching for his combat armor.

“You didn’t hear the news in here?” Raynor looked as though lightning bolts would spring from his brow at any moment.

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