EPTTerran Planetside Command Commander In Chief Nooba is feeling fine. Everything is set up for a big battle with the Protoss, with a good chance of personal glory and promotions. As one of her commanders is found suspiciously decapitated, though, the evil ways of the Protoss cast a long, dark shadow over her plans. Before she knows it, she finds herself in a race against time to fight an unknown enemy in her own headquarters. Who can she trust? Who will be the next victim? And when will she ever get any coffee?
Instant Protoss
by Niklas Björnberg
Planetside Command Chief In Command And Formerly Special Operative Nooba gazed across the base perimeter and over the red, dusty plains into the distant horizon. The three moons orbiting the planet Barta 1230-XZ shone indistinctly in the afternoon sky. Contrasting against their bleak, blurry circles was the sharp silhouette of the delivery ship that had arrived from orbit half an hour earlier. The ship's cargo was essential to their mission on Barta 1230-XZ, and Nooba had closely monitored its landing herself. While the contents of the ship would not guarantee a one hundred percent successful campaign, the odds would definitely stack against them without it. As she knew from her Ghost background, it was true that you could fight the Protoss without Viking support, without Medivacs... even without any weapons at all except for your own hands and feet!
But without two to three daily cups of coffee?
Not a chance in hell.
Confidently, Chief In Command Nooba switched to the in-house broadcasting channel and pressed the send button. Her voice could now be heard in all of the rooms in the Command Headquarter building.
"My dear commanders," she began, "I am pleased to announce that our Command Headquarters now are in full compliance with Terran Campaign Regulations. The Servo Crew have just finished installing five Hypercaf Deluxe Instant Coffee Machines, each one capable of producing a cup of coffee in less than 1.41 seconds, with up to 3 million different flavors to choose from. These machines can be found in the main corridor. There is also one in the recreational facilities and one in the audio-visio facilities. I, your humble Chief In Command, hope that you will enjoy this latest addition to the base. Thank you, Commanders."
Nooba let go of the send button. She counted to three and pressed it again.
"Oh and by the way, should you notice that our coffee machines are equipped with neosteel framing and the latest responsive button technology, which you might know to be pretty far from standard issue, there is no need to be concerned. It is simply a token of my connections with the High Orbit Command and their appreciation of my work. Thanks again for your attention officers."
Satisfied, Nooba sat down in her comfortable chair. It always felt good to remind the lower ranking officers of her friends in high places. The days of being a minor squad leader meddling in petty trivialities were long gone. She was the head of thousands of troops now. She was going places. She was already one of the most important persons in the whole campaign, goddammit! High Orbit Command was within her reach, and, by the planets, she would ascend that path of glory and shape her own destiny from the galaxy's vast whirling vortex of supernova stardust!
A message appeared on her screen. Nooba read it with wrinkled eyebrows.
She pressed the broadcast button.
"About the available flavors: No, I do not have a complete list of what flavors you can get. You will have to download the list from the machines. Thank you."
She let out a small sigh. Another message appeared on her screen. Again, her voice was heard throughout the Officer Headquarter.
"Commander Anderson. I am quite sure that Kiwi/Banana/Mint, while perhaps not being the most sought for flavor combination, can be found among the three million flavors of coffee available. To be fully certain though, I suggest, as I said just a moment ago, that you go check the data in the machines."
Her finger remained on the button, in anticipation of a third message. And right as rain, it came.
"And yes," she replied through the broadcasting system, "should it turn out that anyone's favorite flavor is not currently available, there is a good chance that we can download flavor patches and cover all kinds of exotic coffee wishes. Including but not limited to, for example..." She read from the screen. "... Blue Coconut / Chirping Chimpanzee. Eeh. Now, please, consult the machines themselves before messaging me again. I..."
The video stream icon flashed on her screen. Irritated, she released the broadcast button and stared into the camcorder. She let the video feed through and began speaking her mind.
"Anderson, you can take your bananas and chimpanzees and shove them as far up where the suns don't shine as you possibly ca..."
The face of High Orbit Command General Oakleaf appeared on the screen. The face looked a bit perplexed, as if in doubt of the received voice feed.
"High Orbit Command General Oakleaf!" Nooba jumped into standing positon, frantically saluting the higher ranking officer.
"Planetside Chief In Command Nooba", Oakleaf greeted. "Was there... did you say anything about chimpanzees?"
"Absolutely not Sir. Channel interference Sir. Happens quite a lot. The techies tell me it has to do with the electromagnetic... something. And atmospheric... stuff, too! Hahaha chimpanzees – probably Anderson and Teleo talking about their trip to the zoo, Sir."
"Huh?" General Oakleaf looked puzzled.
"To what do I owe the honor of you calling me, Sir?"
Nooba sat down and looked into the camera in her most attentive manner, ready to execute whatever orders that may come.
"In less than sixteen hours we move out against the Protoss in the biggest campaign ever launched against the alien threats on Barta 1230-XZ. For months we have planned and gathered our strength, all in anticipation of this moment."
"Yes, Sir." Nooba began to feel her pulse beat harder. It was hard not to get carried away thinking of the vast army that would move out tomorrow at dawn.
"And so, nearing the execution phase of our big project, it is my duty as the High Orbit Commander to go through the Planetside Chief In Command Checklist with you, to ensure that our campaign is in compliance with Terran Planet Based Campaign Guidelines."
Nooba's heart sank in her chest. Stupid campaign guideline checklists. They could be pages and pages long.
"Is that... really necessary Sir?"
Oakleaf looked up in surprise.
"Why of course! I don't want to go to tonight's Campaign Go Decision Meeting and report a deviation from the Campaign Guidelines!"
"Hmm, no, of course Sir."
"So." General Oakleaf opened a folder on his desk, his pen hovering over the paper, ready to start ticking off the checklist questions. "Starting with section A - Basic Campaign Prerequisities - Has a planetside base been established?"
Nooba felt her sanity shift a bit.
"Yes Sir" she said. "It would be the one I'm sitting in" she wanted to add. But she didn't of course. Wit at the expense of Campaign Guidelines didn't always go well with High Orbit Command.
General Oakleaf dutifully noted her answers as they progressed through the questions.
"Has a natural mineral resource with a capacity sufficient to maintain base production for five production cycles been secured no further than 12 standard length units from the base?"
"Yes Sir."
Nooba yawned in her mind. She tried envisioning herself on the field of battle, illuminated by the fierce blasts of the siege tanks as they rained their thunder down on the Protoss creatures, shouting her orders to her subcommanders, trying to outmaneuver and outsmart her opponent – the dreaded Protoss Executor Assadar. Yes, that was what it was all about. Her intelligence and cunning and battle prowess against his. Two great minds locked in a battle only one of them would live to claim victory of. A struggle of epic proportions!
"Has the Terran Campaign Guideline subsection B.1.2.1 – Policy For Employing Xenomorph Subcontractors – been distributed and acknowledged by all the appointed commanders?"
"Ehm... yes, Sir."
Well. It hadn't really. But she thought she knew the gist of it and as far as she knew nobody had contracted any xenomorphs other than really silly looking, non-threatening types that liked to dance and sing, etc, while working. She had made sure that there were no smart psionic xenomorphs with mind control powers, or any spiky and slimy ones that could spit acid and chew your face off. So yeah. B.1.2.1 covered.
She massaged her temples with her fingers, trying to stay focused as the questions went on.
"Have the entrances to the base been fortified in accordance with Bunker Placement Guidelines subsection A.2.3 – Preparing For The Baneling Bust, and the Bunker Placement Addendum section A – Preparing For The Surprise Surprise Baneling Bust With Some Roaches As Well And A Couple Of Lings That Sneaked Through Just Before The Depots Went Up Because I Was Busy Trying To Get Those Blasted Banshee Drivers To Understand Their Orders?"
"Ah, yes Sir!"
Those guidelines they actually had studied and implemented quite well. She had to give the Guideline people some credit for that one.
"So, continuing to Section B – Chain of Command. Has an Officer Headquarter been established?"
"Yes Sir".
“And have all the appropriate subcommanders been appointed?”
“Yes Sir.”
"Have any of the appointed commanders suffered from any mental illnesses or shown symptoms of mild or extreme paranoia or voiced a concern for the purity of their bodily fluids as of lately?"
"Yes Si... Ehm, no Sir. No."
Barring Anderson's fetish for obscure coffee flavors, she hadn't noticed any outright nutcases among her commanders.
"They are all safe and sound, mentally and physically, Sir!" she added with a reassuring smile.
In the next moment, a red light began pulsing across her screen. The image of Commander Oakleaf shrank into a tiny icon and a "CODE 3 ALERT" message popped up in its place. A second later, the alarm sounded throughout the base.
Startled, Nooba jumped out of her chair.
"Seems like we're under attack Sir!"
She turned and grasped her Xilencer Stud Gun from the rack.
"I'll get back to you as soon as I've got the situation under control Sir!"
She made a thumbs-up gesture to Oakleaf and bolted for the door, speaking into her comdevice.
"Commander Doraleigh, what's the status? What's with the alarm? Are we under attack? Are the Protoss at our doorstep?"
Nooba cautiously proceeded along the main corridor of the Commander Headquarter – back to the wall and gun raised in front of her.
The voice of her Commander of Base Security seemed hesitant as it echoed back through the comdevice.
"Eh, there's been a death Ma'm."
"A death? Singular? Only one casualty?"
"Eh yeah. It's Anderson Ma'm. He's been... well you better come look for yourself. We are in the recreational area."
Nooba raced through the corridor and turned right into the recreational room, where her subcommanders stood around the body of what seemed to be Commander Anderson.
"He was just having a cup of coffee" Commander Doraleigh said, looking down at the corpse.
"Where's the head?" Nooba asked.
Commander Teoleo pointed under the table. "Seems to have been separated from the body with quite some force."
Nooba took a look. Yeah. It was Anderson all right. Except for the body.
And over by the coffee machine – Anderson as well. Except for the head.
Commander Capito – Special Ops, soon to celebrate his fifteenth birthday – spoke with his squeaky, hormone troubled voice.
"Should I get some medics over Chief Nooba?"
Nooba looked at him incredulously.
"It might be a tad too late for that." While Capito's psionic powers rivalled those of a high templar, his prodigy überbrain could be a little slow in other areas.
"So let me get this straight" she continued. "Anderson was going for a coffee..."
"Seems it was Kiwi/Banana/Mint flavored after all" Commander Markkula filled in, sniffing at the fumes from the still steaming cup of coffee.
"And, having had the cup filled, something or someone decapitated him. Hmm."
Nooba's eyes narrowed. "He did not put up a fight, or even, it seems, turn around. The attacker came unseen. The wound..." She pointed to the gross part of Anderson's neck, which was, mostly, all of it. "...is of a very clean cut and strangely cauterized – almost completely devoid of blood. These factors support the theory that whatever cut the neck was very sharp, and also highly energized. Much like the weapons of a very specialized Protoss warrior."
“I think…”
She discreetly backed up against the wall and raised her weapon just ever so slightly.
"…that we may have a Dark Templar lose in the building."
The assembled Commanders gasped in unison.
"That is... NOT good!" Commander Doraleigh's eyes nervously darted around the room, trying to spot any strange shimmering phenomena from the DT's cloaking field.
Nooba's expression turned grim.
"Okay, hear up! Commander Biscuit, you inform the sub-subcommanders of the situation. Tell them we'll be available again as soon as this is sorted out. Doraleigh, you seal this building off. No one enters or leaves. No one! The rest of you – combat gear on. Rendez vous in my office in five minutes. Move!"
"Okay Chief Nooba!" Capito shouted. He started off towards the door, tripped on the body of Commander Anderson, and fell to the floor.
"Aaah ooh I'm okay, I'm okay! Just... hurt my elbow a bit."
Nooba's face and palm joined each other for a moment of celebration and contemplation of the prime quality of her commanders.
"Okay", she said as she released her facepalm, "Five minutes commanders!"
She left the scene, head held high and back proudly straightened. It was important to inspire courage in her commanders in the face of the supposed assassin.
The cloaked, warp blade wielding, head slicing alien assassin.
Thinking that she was more help to her commanders if she was alive, Nooba abandoned her inspirational gait and – half-crouching against the walls and continuously kicking out in front of her to detect invisible murderers – awkwardly made her way to her office.
She shut the door, locked it carefully and grabbed a bunch of items from her desk. Trying to cover as much area as possible, she threw the stuff around the room. Having noted that the items – pens, note blocks, the occasional shock grenade – reached the walls and didn't bounce off something invisible mid-way, she turned her attention to the Ghost suit mounted on the wall.
It was the suit from her days as a Special Operative. Before she became more... career oriented, so to speak. She hadn't worn it in a long time. Except for the occasional emping of a malfunctioning printer (sometimes you just had to draw a line in the sand), Planetside Command didn't call for much Ghost work.
But now was the time, goddammit.
DT in her base, killing her commanders? She wouldn't have it.
Nooba tossed her Commander clothes behind a shelf and slid into her Ultra Lightweight NanoOpto Ghost suit, complete with Assassin's Choice Stealth-o-Boots and Top 3 Control Sensomatic Gloves.
Carefully, almost tenderly, she released the accompanying weapon from its rack and booted it up. It wasn't the standard issue C-10 Canister Rifle, but a customized Mk 23 Kasparov OctoCore Heavy Duty Sniper Rifle, alias The Ultralisk Widowmaker, alias The Brood Lord Flyswatter, alias The Unstoppable Kiss of Death.
"Hello Ma'm" the weapon's voice circuits greeted her. "This device is now ready to remove the obstacles on the path to freedom and liberty for all!"
Nooba smiled. She was ready to take on anything.
The handle to her door turned downwards and a loud "thump!" could be heard as someone walked into the door.
"Aaargh, my head! Stupid manual doors!" Commander Markkula sounded upset.
"I know how to operate a manual door! Stand aside!" Commander Doraleighs voice brimmed with authority. "See, you just turn the handle... and push!"
A second thump followed as Commander Doraleigh walked head-first into the door.
"Arrrr.... it's locked."
"These low tech devices are just too complicated" complained the voice of Commander Biscuit.
Nooba frowned, unlocked the door and ushered her subcommanders in (two of them slightly disorientated from recent mild head injuries).
As they lined up in front of her she had to admit that the combat gear made them look kind of impressive. Commander Biscuit was quite a looming presence in his marine suit, reaching two heads higher than the rest of them. Capito came off as looking quite competent in his Ghost suit, as did Doraleigh in hers. Commander Markkula wore the standard Battlecruiser Command gear, his chest an array of emblems and medallions.
"Okay," she started as they stood in attention before her. "Commander Doraleigh, what have the scans given?"
"No results Ma'm. I scanned the building in all spectrums you could think of, but no life form other than us was detected. I even made an old fashioned audio ping of all the rooms, but still nothing."
"Hmm." Nooba contemplated the news. "It could mean that the DT managed to sneak out... But it could also mean that the Protoss tech can circumvent a scan. We have to assume that the threat remains!"
She eyed her Commanders grimly.
"We will split up in pairs and search the building. The Dark Templar might not show up on scans, but our hands will still feel it!"
Commander Capito raised his hand slowly. "Ehm, Commander In Chief?"
"Yes, Commander Capito?"
"Well, search by groping feels a bit... dangerous? What with the DT having extremely sharp close combat gear. And all."
"Aaah yes that's why you are doing it in pairs. So that you search partner can start shooting in case you should suddenly start disassociating with parts of your body in different directions. So that’s no problem really!"
"Still... eeeh..."
"You even have your Ghost suit, you'll be cloaked!"
"But it runs on batteries!" protested Commander Capito. "Dark Templars are more like... permanently cloaked somehow, aren't they?"
Nooba shrugged.
"So what do you suggest? That we take off and nuke the base from orbit? Huh!?"
"Ah, no, that wouldn't be..."
"Are you gonna go all gg on me Capito? Is that what you are saying? GG NO RE??"
"Negative, Commander In Chief, of course not. I just thought that maybe..."
Nooba looked sternly into his eyes.
"Commander. The nearest hours will be the climax of months of planning and preparations. Tomorrow, at the risk of our own lives, we go out and defend not only Barta 1230-XZ, but humankind itself, against the Protoss threat."
Nooba suddenly felt inspired.
"We, the assembled in this room, are the core of the Planetside Command. Each and every one of us is an integral part of the battle plan. Having lost one of us is bad enough. Losing one more would be disastrous. We HAVE to make sure that the integrity of the Planetside Command remains intact, or humankind will suffer for it."
"Commander" she hissed in Capito’s face. "This is your defining moment. This is what your training prepared you for. This is what it all comes down to. It may seem crazy to go after the DT with your hands only, but you know what?"
She turned and set her fiery eyes on an office chair beside her.
"This... is... BARTA!"
Her right leg went up in a powerful kick and sent the chair across the room. It bumped into the desk and came to a dead still. In the silence that followed a post-it note fell leaf-like to the floor.
"Now go and search that bastard!"
As her commanders filed out of the room Nooba gave herself a high five. What a movie worthy moment! The charismatic commander rallying her reluctant troops! This was something else entirely than filling in campaign cost and budget balance reports or the endless Campaign Steering Group Checklist Meetings.
High on being the Chief In Command she turned to her screen and saw that General Oakleaf had tried reaching her a million or so times.
Somewhat reluctantly she set up the comm channel to Oakleaf.
"Nooba! What is going on?" he inquired immediately, eyebrows raised in a way that said that all of this was quite outrageous and mostly unheard of.
"Well briefly put Sir a Dark Templar seems to have breached our perimeter and killed off Commander Anderson."
Oakleaf nearly choked.
"What!? That does NOT bode well for the Campaign Steering Group's Campaign Go Decision Meeting! The absence of a commander invalidates the entirety of Planetside Commander In Chief Checklist subsections 3, 4 and 5! Not to mention having an enemy agent in the Commander Headquarters! Such deviations will never pass. We will be delayed by weeks!"
"Yes, but the role of Commander will be filled by Anderson's sub commander General. It is a moment's work and we will appoint a new sub commander. We've got the checklist covered there sir! And I have search teams looking for the DT as we speak Sir. We are using the latest, highly sophisticated search technology to find it, Sir. Plenty of opportunity to get things in order for the Go Decision meeting Sir."
"You've got two hours, Planetside Chief In Command Nooba. Find that DT before then, or there might be consequences for both of our careers. One does not simply walk into a Campaign Go Decision Meeting with an unchecked checklist! That would just be too outrageous!"
Nooba felt a sudden heavy weight on her shoulders.
"Yes Sir, of course."
Oakleaf humphed indignantly a couple of times, and the link went dead.
Nooba considered the conversation, and found that she did not like it. Career consequences? That part sounded a bit foreboding.
She pressed the building send button.
"Let me know as soon as you have found anything interesting!" she conveyed to her commanders, hoping that her voice did not sound as frantic as it might.
She leaned back in the chair and stared at the roof. Stupid DT. What exactly would the result be when a consequence was applied to a career? Would it be harmful to the career? Yes, it probably would, she reasoned. But not lethal, right? Right? Surely one slight speed bump in the beginning of one campaign could not be grounds for a lifelong dismissal to the metaphorical asteroids? She'd rather be a metal trader scavenging the literal asteroids than being given some dead end administrative work on some low priority planet. Goddammit, that DT made her nervous. Who knew what it would end up doing to her career.
Angrily she looked through the window at the base. The marines went on with their hut-hut-hutting as usual, oblivious to the problems of their highest in (planetside) command.
Could the DT have made it out of the headquarter building already, Nooba wondered. If the DT had managed to sneak out it would be very hard to catch it. Like - super hard. Nooba made a frustrated face. It would delay time plans indefinitely.
At the landing site the cargo ship servo robot crew whirred to and fro, loading the cargo ship with used up supply crates and whatnot. The ship seemed to be quite recently manufactured, Nooba noticed. It had a well polished shine to it. It was nice to see that something could resist the dusty winds of Barta for some time at least. Actually, it was almost strange how glistening and bright the ship's hull seemed in contrast to the matted, grey steel plating of the other ships. She wondered if it could have been manufactured just prior to going to Barta. Maybe it was a new line of cargo ships. This year's model, perhaps?
She was interrupted in her thoughts by Commander Capito entering her office.
"Gheust repawding" he said in a most peculiar manner.
"Ehm, what was that?" Nooba stared blankly at him.
Capito wrinkled his lips in an attempt to look... Grim? Determined? Happy? Sad? A badass Ghost? A victim of a drunk dentist? Nooba really couldn't tell.
"Gheeeust reprtn Maem."
Nooba's brain searched for an explanation and found one.
"Ah, 'Ghost reporting' you mean?"
"Yes, Ma'm".
"You know, when I was a young Ghost, fresh out of the Spec Ops Academy, I was watching those recruitment movies over and over again too, trying to get the Ghost accent just right. But you know, very few ever manage it. And actually, I've heard that there may be digital voice editing involved."
"What!? But that accent is half the reason I went Ghost!"
Nooba nodded.
"Yes I know. Disheartening, it really is. I guess you could buy some vocal cord cybernetics kit. Altho people would know, eventually. Nothing's worse than a bad accent - except a fake one."
"Shoot!" Capito looked disappointed. "I've really been training you know. 'Seulu oprahtive right?'. And 'Seounds like a..'"
"Yes yes yes", Nooba interrupted. "That's all very commendable and all, but have you anything to report about the DT?"
"Ah yes. Ehm. We couldn't find it."
Nooba's spirits dropped.
"And you searched everywhere? Like, eeeeverywhere?"
"Yes Ma'm, Commander Doraleigh tracked our coverage percentage and we have searched every inch of the Commander Headquarter building Ma'm."
"Huh... So I guess it did get away then... Loose on the base somewhere. Or maybe halfway back to the Protoss bases. We can't know for sure. Oh I feel consequences being aimed at careers here."
Nooba sank into her chair, feeling depressed. Maybe she could convince Oakleaf that the DT most likely had wandered far off and was no longer a factor to weigh in on the checklist go-through? Maybe she could claim that she herself had killed Anderson, as an anti-infiltration exercise? No, that was perhaps taking it a bit far...
A voice feed from Commander Doraleigh appeared on her comdevice. Nooba answered with a lethargic hello.
"Chief In Command Nooba, we have another Commander down!"
"We have?" Nooba sat upright in her chair.
"Yes, it's Biscuit Ma'm. He's been incapacitated. Seemingly by an invisible attacker. In the audio-visio facilities."
"Excellent! I'm coming over!"
Nooba jumped up from her chair.
"Great news Capito – it seems like Biscuit's gone down too!"
Capito looked full of contradictory impulses.
"Ehm. That’s… great?"
"I mean it's great that the DT is still in the building and that we get the chance to catch it. Positively great! Come with me!"
They left for the audio-visual recreational room, Nooba leading the way with her finger firmly placed on the powerful rifle’s trigger.
A scene much like the previous one awaited them at the destination: The commanders of the base grouped around a body on the floor, and in the adjacent coffee machine a hot, still smoking cup of coffee resided, resting untouched in the holder.
Commander Markkula sniffed the cup.
"Plain black coffee. No flavor at all!"
Commander Doraleigh nodded solemnly.
"That was how he drank it. He was a proud man."
Nooba looked the body over.
"Hmm... he seems quite intact for a DT victim. Or am I missing something that's missing?"
"No Ma'm. All body parts accounted for. It seems the attack was different this time. We don't even really know what killed him."
"But what's that?" Nooba pointed to Biscuit's head. "Looks like his temples have been... scorched."
Capito leaned over. "Yeah... like they've been burned all black. Only... from the inside?" He frowned, unsure of what it meant.
"And notice his unintelligent simpleton look" Nooba continued. "His mouth half open, the eyes unfocused... Even for a dead guy he looks quite stupid. As if his mental capacity dropped rapidly in the moment of death."
She sniffed about in the air.
"Can you feel it? The odd smell? Like an electrical device short circuited and burnt? That's not only the coffe, I bet. No, that's the smell of wild psionic energies racing through the air towards their unfortunate victim's brain."
Nooba shivered.
"He's been feedbacked."
Capito and Doraleigh instinctively put their hands around their heads and took cover behind the other commanders, fearing a sudden bolt of energy directed towards them.
"So there's a high templar as well!?" Markkula gasped.
"It would appear so." Nooba nodded thoughtfully. "Good thing it wasn't one of us Ghosts, or we'd be scraping brain substance off these walls. Damn I hate high templars."
Doraleigh went pale. "We have to flee!" she said.
"No no no!" Nooba objected. "This is the best time to search for it! Its energy reserves must be depleted now. It will be harmless as it restores itself. Have you even seen a high templar? They're super weak. A child could take it out. Just punch it in the gut and they'll fold like a... like something easily folded! Come on now, everybody with me! Form a circle around me! The templar's blast will be distributed among us and almost harmless if we move in a group!"
Capito looked encouraged. "It will?" he said, pleasantly surprised.
"Well, it's a theory I have."
The group of tightly packed commanders squeezed itself out of the door and trotted off down the corridor in a spririt of fear and trigger happy adrenaline-fuelled enthusiasm.
In the audio-visio facilities only Commander Markkula remained.
"Hmm hmm" he mumbled and stroked his beard. "This situation calls for a cup of coffee."
He glanced at the coffee machine in the room but decided against it. A corpse-free room would be preferable.
Warily he crossed the floor and went out in the main corridor. He drew his Stub Gun and proceeded cautiously towards one of the coffee machines further down the hallway. He doubted he had enough psionic powers to be affected by the templar, and the DT seemed to have taken off, but he wouldn't take any chances. The Protoss race was a fearsome and cunning one.
Carefully, slowly, he approached the machine. Having checked all directions for enemies he inserted two space dollars in the slot. Eagerly he pressed the button for one plain, black cup of coffee. The machinery slid into motion and the delicious liquid was poured into a cup. The aroma rose from the hot surface and reached his nostrils. "Ah, that smells good" he declared.
As the last drops went down he reached for the cup. He brought it to his lips and took a sip. And it was... marvellous!
"Oooh yes, that's the stuff!" he proclaimed. "Aaah."
Coffee was truly one of life's little pleasures. He felt at ease... revitalized.
He smiled happily - for a second oblivious of his duties and the dire issues at hand.
And in that moment, something forcefully shoved his legs aside. With a thump, Commander Markkula went down hard, his back flat against the floor.
"Arrrggrhgr" he growled. The world suddenly was chaos and confusion. A terrible pain burned his chest. He squeezed the trigger of his Stub Gun in panic, instinctly trying to fend off his foe. The loud bangs from the weapon hammered against his eardrums.
He tried to focus, to regain control, but the agony was too great, the terrible torment too much. He gasped for air, tried to get up, but fell back on the floor.
"I die in battle... defiant!" was his last thought. The chest pain faded as his life force ebbed away. Darkness engulfed him.
Commander Markkula was no more.
Or at least he was kind of out of it for a couple of seconds, before he realized that maybe he wasn't dead after all.
He sat up against the wall and composed himself. He looked down at his chest.
"Noooo!" he screamed in anguish as the other commanders came running.
"What is it!? What is it!? What happened!!?" shouted Nooba.
Commander Markkula pointed to his chest area.
"Look - coffee all over my uniform! It's ruined! And my medals will need a cleaning! And it hurt, I tell you. It was horribly hot. They should put a warning label on those cups, I can't believe that they are allowed to..."
"But what happened!?"
"Look!" Teoleo shouted before Markkula had a chance to answer.
And they looked.
In the middle of the hallway, spilt coffee was running down the sides of a near invisible object. It was about as big as a small dog, and rectangular, with slightly rounded corners. It seemed solid, like a little box of hardened air.
As they were watching it, it suddenly disappeared. The air filled the empty space with a faint plopping sound, and the coffee fell to the floor like a light, brown rain.
"That was the cutest little force field I have ever seen!" Nooba exclaimed.
"But what does it mean? Should we look for a tiny sentry..?" Capito looked puzzled.
Markkula offered another explanation: "We must be facing some kind of advanced multipurpose Protoss warrior!"
Teoleo looked positively sick at the notion of an advanced multipurpose Protoss warrior. "That would be our doom! That's even worse than... than an infestor!"
Nooba made big eyes. "Whoa, Commander Teoleo, let's not lose our senses totally here. Nothing is worse than an infestor."
"But surely, the combined powers of a dark templar and a high templar and a sen..."
Commander Markkula interrupted him. "Listen, man! Those damn infestors have been holding us back a looong time. If it weren't for the infestors, we'd all be Space Emperors by now!"
Doraleigh nodded. "It is so!" she agreed.
Commander Markkula looked sad. "Space Emperors with bath tubs filled with donkey's milk... and more cheese than you could eat in a day..."
"Ehm, yes... Yes I think we all would want that...", said Nooba slowly.
"But aaanyway," she continued, "it seems as if we are chasing a DT HT sentry hybrid. That doesn't make much sense though. You see..." She raised one of her index fingers in a tutoring manner. "...the Protoss are absurdly religious. It's the Khala this and the Void that. And they represent these... different type of energies. Like, Dark Templars are one sort of cookies, and High Templar another sort of cookies, and you can't put them in the same bag. Sort of. If I got it right. And I don't think that they'd go all mixed up cookie dough in a sudden fit of pragmatism after about a billion years of strict religious holy energy categorization. It wouldn't be very protossesque."
"Ah" said Capito, slowly nodding. "So what you're saying is..?"
"What I'm saying is... that this is all very weird. I have to go think about it."
"Oh." Capito looked a bit disappointed.
"Keep searching the place! Report to me if you make any findings!"
Nooba hurriedly set off for her quarters, thoughts racing through her mind. This whole affair was the darnedest thing.
She barged into her office and began pacing to and fro. There was only an hour left of Oakleaf's deadline, and she had nothing to report but a supposed Protoss super warrior. Which seemed unlikely, given the Protoss religious preference for power separation. On the other hand – if they were facing three different foes, they would likely have found them by now. Unless maybe they were really small? Nooba paused to ponder the possibility of a tiny force of Protoss scurrying across the floor. Could the Protoss have engineered a shrinking beam? But how could a very small DT have chopped Anderson's head off? He was quite tall after all. The feet would have made much easier targets.
Frustrated she put her beloved Kasparov Rifle down on her desk and sat down.
"So," she said to herself, making circles around her temples with her fingers, "an unidentified yet probably Protoss enemy attack people. So far two dead, and one... stumbled. All victims attacked when buying coffee. When buying coffee..."
Her eyes went out to the cargo ship that brought the coffee machines. It was still on the landing dock, being prepared to take off. She took note of its shining surface, its well polished metal. The grace with which it swung open its doors. The smooth motion of the crew robots. It was in a marvelous condition. In fact, the most marvelous condition she had seen any ship be in.
She touched her screen and set up a connection to the artillery unit. Unexpectedly fast, the second in command of artillery answered her call.
"This is Planetside Chief In Command Nooba" she greeted him.
"Why hello Chief Nooba Ma'm! What can I help you with today, Ma’m?"
"That cargo ship that arrived at about seven hundred hours previously today, delivering coffee machines and other base equipment..."
"Yes, Chief In Command Nooba Ma'm?"
"I want you to put a rocket in it. Preferably a big rocket, as it were."
"Damn yes, we can do that! I’m on it!”
Artillery Second In Command went to work. Nooba whistled appreciatively. This was how things were supposed to be done - fast and efficient!
On the field outside a Thor broke off from the rest of the big mechanoids and turned towards the landing site. Protective shields slid aside and heavy steel bars planted the giant mechanoid firmly into the ground as it went into artillery mode.
An ever rising sound of thunder roared across the base as a bright light, soon too bright to watch, grew from one of the missiles in the Thor's ammo case. Nooba held her breath in cheerful anticipation. As the missile was released, it crossed the horizon in the blink of an eye, striking its target with hellfire and death. A huge cloud of fire rose against the dark background of space. Metal shrapnel spread over the landing site, and of the ship that once stood where the missile landed, nothing remained.
Nooba sighed. An excited voice appeared in her ear.
"Quite a shot eh, Chief In Command Nooba?"
"Very! Now, if you could aim at the cargo ship. Ok? The cargo ship. The one just behind the one you exploded."
"Aaaah" said the voice.
"Aaaah indeed" said Nooba.
On the landing site the cargo ship robots hastily scurried aboard, and the vessel came to life, lifting into the air. Not with the usual Terran huff and puff, but with a seemingly effortless, decidedly wrong, sort of anti-gravity grace.
"SO Protoss" Nooba whispered to herself.
As the second missile struck home, the cargo ship veered but did not go down. Fire burned around an invisible sphere that flickered blue in Barta's low oxygen atmosphere.
"Shields! Shoot it again! Shoot it man!" Nooba shouted.
The explosions went off like fireworks, and the shields around the ship weakened. Soon it took a hit straight in the hull and began a slow fall down. Closing to the ground, it started falling apart. Or rather, Nooba saw, it was... changing. As it came to rest again on the landing site, it had transformed into something decidedly Protoss.
Nooba let out a surprised whoa. "A replicator. The whole ship was just one big replicator."
For a brief moment she stood awed and bewildered and generally flabbergasted, but she soon came about again and patched a message to Oakleaf. "High Orbit Lalala Oakleaf Sir, this is Planetside Command Chief In Command Nooba. It would appear that the Protoss have compromised our base refreshments supply line. I advice thorough xenotech scans of anything delivered to any station in the sector the last three days. Especially, but not limited to, coffe machines. I'll get back with more details later!"
She dashed out of the room and switched to the intra-HQ channel.
"Commanders, meet me in the hallway in three minutes. And bring a couple of desks or something. And maybe helmets. But stay away from the coffee machines! The coffee machines are the enemy!"
She disconnected and leaned back. It was too bad about the coffee. She really deserved some now, she reckoned.
Huddled behind the overturned desk from late Commander Anderson's office the assembled group of planetside commanders observed a small service robot approaching one of the hallway coffee machines.
"So, according to your theory, something fatal will occur when the robot buys the coffee?" asked Teoleo.
"Yes" said Nooba. "I think the Protoss booby trapped the coffee machines and delivered them here with a replicated transport ship."
"What a cunning plan!" Commander Biscuit mumbled as he watched the robot lift its hand towards the coin slot.
"Is that a two space dollar coin?" asked Capito, upset. "The price was only one dollar fifty in the machines in the space central."
"What?" Biscuit frowned. "The Protoss raised the price as well? A sinister strike at our economy as well as our mortal bodies! I did not know just how low these Protoss could..."
"Shut up", advised Nooba, "it's making its order."
The robot gently pushed the button combination for Coffee – Black – Extra – Touch of Servo Oil. In silent anticipation the crouching group saw the cup being placed in its holder, and how the black liquid filled it. When it was filled to the rim, the robot picked it up.
"Expect anything!" Nooba warned.
The robot lifted the cup to its sort of nose and smelled it. Its metallic voice rang out in the hallway.
"Initial analysis: Coffee. Status: Excellent."
It brought the cup to its sort of lips and downed it all in one quick gulp.
For a second the robot stood still as its processors ran their algorithms. "Secondary analysis: Best. Cup of coffee. Ever."
The robot looked up at the coffee machine reverently. "Thank you, Protoss lords of coffee."
Nooba frowned. "Even their coffee is OP, this is getting ridic..."
A small hatch door slid to the side in the coffee machine. There was just enough time to register the big barrel hidden behind it before the robot exploded in a thousand twisted metal fragments.
"Whoaaaaa!!!" and "Aaaaaaaaaa!" and "Aaaargrrgh!" shouted the assembled.
Several moments later, they cautiously rose from their instinctively taken positions flat on the floor.
"Wow" gasped Commander Doraleigh, shaking her head in astonishment, "that was... succinct."
Nooba nodded as she carefully dusted off robot remains from her weapon. "That was a shock cannon surprise to go with the coffee."
She looked down the corridor in the direction of the other coffee machines. "I guess it's safe to say that all the coffee machines should be avoided. Along with anything else the robot crew installed in the base."
"Well, I'm off for the bathroom" said Commander Capito, looking down at his coffee drenched uniform.
Nooba gave him a nod of dismissal. "I guess the best way to go about it now is to let the tech guys take apart the machines..." she reasoned. "And we have to inform Orbit General Oakleaf of the successful outcome of today's operations. I think I'll go and do that right away, actually..."
Nooba happily began pondering the possiblities of promotion when a cry of terror cut through the air.
"What's that?"
Doraleigh made big eyes. "Capito! The bathroom! The Protoss did work in there too!"
"Quick!" Nooba lifted her rifle and ran for the bathroom, the others at her heels.
Nooba kicked open the door to the bathroom and a blue, crackling light flowed out into the hallway. Screaming and kicking, Commander Capito was held in the air above one of the toilets, suspended in the air by a powerful beam of energy emanating from the porcelain structure. Wild energies danced on the surface of the ceramics.
"OMG it's an archon toilet!" exclaimed Doraleigh.
"EMP IT!" Nooba shouted.
In unison, their weapons went up. Five bolts of electromagnetic energy struck the sanitory facility simultaneously. There was a notable dimming of the blue shine, and the humming of its electrostatic Protoss charge faded.
Nooba took aim with her Mk23 Kasparov OctoCore Heavy Duty Sniper Rifle. For a second she paused, trying to come up with something cool to say, but only came up with "time to flush" which was decidedly not so cool, so to her regret she skipped the one-liner and just fired.
The target was destroyed in a near ridiculous display of overkill, and Commander Capito fell shouting to the floor.
"One less turd in the world" Commander Nooba didn't say. Because that too sounded absurdly idiotic. "This could have been so much more epic had they not booby trapped the loo" Nooba reflected with some annoyance.
As she took in the scene, with her commanders rushing to the aid of Commander Capito, dusty with exploded toilet seat, and the adrenaline still rushing through her body, she did feel very satisfied though. Not only had she thwarted the Protoss’ evil plans, but she had also delivered a hands-on blow to the alien force. The first round had been fought, and she had emerged victorious!
“Ha!” she exclaimed.
“Ha!” echoed the robot voice of her trusted Kiss of Death.
As an extra bonus, Commander Capito sat up and looked kind of ok, if rather roughed up.
“Pretty good shooting, eh, Capito?” she smiled at him.
“It’s… it’s full of stars…” he said, looking positively confused.
“Yeah…” She gave a wink to the other commanders. “Maybe you should take a little trip to sick bay with Commander Capito. I’ll go inform High Orbit Command of our successful dealing with our deadly foes!”
Brushing bathroom shrapnel from her suit, Nooba headed back to her office. As expected, her screen was red with waiting priority calls from High Orbit.
“High Orbit Command General Oakleaf!” she called and was presented with his face on the screen.
“I am pleased to report that the alien threat has been removed, and that Base Status, while currently sort of in Code 2C Precaution With Extra Double Check, should soon be back to Code 0 Base Status Normal. I will carry out the Commander Appointment Paperwork with haste, and we will be ready in time for the Campaign Go Decision Meeting! Sir!”
She saluted and tried to curb her enthusiasm to a level fitting for a cool, collected Planetside Commander In Chief.
“Well done, Chief Nooba!”
“Why thank you Sir.”
“In fact, very well done! Your warning message telling us to scan the coffee machines reached us just in time. We were about to take a break from the Upper Command Daily Tactical Meeting and try out the new Koprulo Chocolate Cherry tea we’ve been hearing so much about. Luckily for us, we got your message first. Well, most of us did anyway. Lieutenant Lukeesi had sound proofed his office for some reason and didn’t hear the alarm. He was apparently tickled to death by six tiny probes hiding in his new personal Upper Management Luxury Coffee Dispenser. A grim way to go…”
“Ouch, Sir.”
“Oh yes. Well. It could have been much worse! It turns out most of our ships and bases in this sector had received Protoss shipments. Thanks to you, a major disaster has been avoided!”
Nooba chuckled with joy on the inside. Avoiding major disasters probably qualified as a good career move.
“Well, I simply did what…”
“In fact, we in High Orbit Command have decided that you should receive a special recognition for your actions today. In line with section 3.2.4 in the Human/Semi-Human Promotional Policy Guideline, we will grant you an Instant Promotion to High Orbit Command!”
“What!! That’s fantastic! I'm to be a High Orbit Command Commander?? What will my position be? Tactics? Arms development? Or... is it SpecOps Sir? Will I be responsible for the Ghost deployment Sir?”
Nooba felt faint from excitement. Pictures raced through her mind. Pictures of herself at the Campaign planning table, smoking a big cigar and looking sternly into the eyes of the other High Orbit Commanders as she told them the next needed course of action in the war. And what if she was going to be Commander of SpecOps! She wouldn't just sit back up in orbit and administer and give orders, no, she would join the other Ghosts on the field. She would show them what it meant to be a Ghost! It wasn't just about the cool image and the cloaking devices and the cold blooded assassinations. A Ghost could be so much more! It could be a tactical mastermind, a reconnaissance resource, a strategist, an... a... a sort of... well, a lot of things! She would be an inspiration to them all. She would become… a legend. A legend!
Oakleaf nodded cordially.
"Your field of responsibility will be an important one indeed. As of now, you are none other than High Orbit Command Base Facilities And Supply Logistics Commander Nooba!”
Nooba's jaw slowly dropped.
“Base facilities..?”
“And supply logistics! We know that with you as responsible we never need fear another breach of the integrity of our desks, doors, pens, vending machines, Entertainovision modules, Xtra Sparkling Sunbeds, and other oh so important items in the bases. You will make sure that they arrive on time, in the correct numbers and with the intended functionality - untouched by the enemy's hands! We put our trust in you, Commander Nooba."
"Supply logistics? Do I even need a gun for that?"
"Hmm, I don't know why you would need a gun to make spreadsheets and tick off boxes in inventory lists? Anyway, I have arranged for a dropship to pick you up at twenty hundred hours, planet time.”
“But that’s… you mean tonight? What about the Protoss Sir? The campaign? The thunder of siege tanks and attacks ships on fire off the shoulder of a Colossus?”
“Too dangerous, Base Facility And Supply Logistics Commander Nooba. A lot of people can head a planet side assault. But we can’t risk losing someone with your unique experience of these new Protoss tactics. Who knows what they will booby trap the next time!
The sooner you can take up your new position the better.”
“But maybe… a small skirmish? Throw some rocks at some probes at least? I…”
“I advise you to bring a calculator and pen and pencil! There is a lot of logistics to plan in the sector!”
He smiled.
“Congratulations, Nooba. I’ll be seeing you shortly.”
General Oakleaf faded away into the darkness of the screen as the comm channel was terminated.
Silence fell upon the room.
Nooba sat still in disbelief.
“What? I don’t even…“
She raised her hands to her head, her mouth twisting as the full terror of her situation sank into her.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!111” she screamed.
On the other side of the planet, Executor Assadar dropped his cup of coffee on the floor. He grimaced and leaned against one of the Khala pillars adorning his quarters.
“Is there a problem, High Executor?” inquired the zealot at his side.
Assadar took a deep breath and regained his composure.
“There was a disturbance in the psionic energies. I saw terrible visions of desks and paperwork and endless meetings. I dread to speak of them.”
“May Adun give you sanctuary, Executor. Here, have another coffee.”
The Executor accepted the offered cup and took a sip from it.
“Ah, Cinnamon/Thorazine, it is quite the taste. The ill omen fades from my mind.”
“Excellent Executor.”
The zealot made a thumbs up gesture and withdrew in silence, leaving the Executor in his quarters to ponder the unfathomable mysteries of the universe.
