If you can't eat it, shoot it, or wear it, don't bring it.
Gen. James Mattis, USMC

The five survivors gathered between the warp gate and the pool of blood that held the remains of the Zerg and their platoon. They each solemnly examined each other, looking to identify them as well as assessing for injuries. Thankfully - and miraculously - the five had emerged from the bloodbath unscathed, though each was covered in sanguine splatter.

As they were a small unit, stationed on Braxis for over half the year, they had all come to know each other fairly well. In addition to Matt and Stuart, the three others each came from the remaining three squads.

First squad's "representative" was the automatic rifleman Specialist Sergei Ivanov, a hulking beast of a man that held the brigade deadlift record at over four hundred kilograms, and at forty one was the oldest in the unit. With three children of his own, each of whom were as old as most of the lower enlisted, he had established himself as the "dad" in the platoon. His experience meant he always had some story to tell or advice to give, leading the younger troopers to turn to him for guidance as much as they did the sergeants.

Matt, being the leader of second squad, was thankful that Stuart had made it. The Marine Corps in its infinite wisdom had decided that they be stuck together ever since boot camp, and so they knew each other better than anyone else in the unit. Though Matt had been promoted ahead of him, that never stopped them from being thick as thieves, always being the first person either one talked to and bouncing ideas off each other.

Private First Class John Clay was the designated marksman in third squad, and also the unofficial company "morale officer." He was always able to somehow find some humor in any situation with an uncanny gift for improv and impression. Though pleasant to be around, his quick wit combined with lack of a verbal filter often found him getting smoked on a weekly basis by most of the NCOs. Matt always found his antics funny, but he was still begrudgingly responsible for a few of his disciplinary sessions at the behest of the First Sergeant whenever he caught wind of it.

To the surprise of all the others, fourth squad's Private Mike Connelly had made it through the ordeal. Having only graduated from scout training three months prior, he was easily the youngest and greenest member of the platoon. Everywhere he went he always seemed to have a nervous look on his face, the present situation not helping, and often found it difficult to hold conversations. Most of the platoon liked to rag on his awkwardness, but Matt always tried to be patient with him given that he had been much the same when he arrived at his first unit. To his credit, Matt would occasionally be reminded that he had the highest test scores out of the whole platoon. He would often come out of left field with some creative solution to fix or improve a piece of equipment, like somehow rigging multiple batteries to one radio to boost its range.

That left Matt, having only been promoted to Sergeant two months ago, as the senior ranking trooper.

He sucked in his breath, feeling the weight of the world suddenly on his shoulders. As of right now, Matt was responsible for the lives of the four troopers in front of him. He racked his brain, trying to find something in their standard operation procedures that would give him some guidance in this conspicuously non-standard situation.

"Well guys," Matt said, releasing his breath. "Looks like its down to us now. The four of you take five. Sit down, eat some of your snacks, hydrate, and for the love of God try to relax and collect yourselves. I don't know for sure where we go from here, but I'm gonna work on seeing if I can't get comms with HQ or the D-Backs."

The four gave a chorus of "Rah," and started pulling ration packs out of their rucksacks before sitting on top of them and eating in silence.

Matt turned and walked several paces away. So far, he hadn't heard any incoming comm traffic from either the Diamondback crews or headquarters. Already that wasn't a good sign, as the cave-in would not have gone unnoticed by either and should have prompted them to start trying to raise comms with the dismounts. Unfortunately, Matt had the suspicion that there was just too much interference from the fallen ice for any radio signal to get in... or out.

"Any station this net, this is Red Two Eagle, radio check, over," Matt squawked over the company net, hoping to raise the Diamondback crews. When no response came he tried two more times with similar results.

Switching over to the headquarters net, Matt tried again, hoping that the main base's transceivers were sensitive enough to pick up his signal, and strong enough to penetrate the ice. Again, he had no luck. As he ran out of ideas he thought about duplicating Mike's radio trick. It wouldn't boost the reception, but it might put out a loud enough signal to be picked up on the surface.

Fighting to keep his stomach under control, Matt waded into the pool of death until he found a fallen trooper buried under a pile of zerglings. He pushed the dead aliens off his body and pulled it away from the puddle of blood before pulling the small radio battery out of his helmet. He repeated the process until he had six additional batteries to work with, then pulled his own helmet off and started jury-rigging them to his radio.

When he was satisfied that it looked about right he thought about a message to send through, knowing he wouldn't hear the acknowledgement. After a few minutes of thinking he put the helmet back on and keyed the radio over both the company and headquarters channels.

"All stations this net, this is Red Two Eagle. We have engaged and eliminated primary force of Zerg hostiles past phase line Raynor, break.
We have identified Zerg C2 node as... an elongated brain-like organism with extreme psionic power, break.
Item of interest found in AO is an active Protoss warp gate, destination unknown, break.
Engagement with Zerg forces resulted in..." he did some quick math in his head. "Eighty percent casualties, unit trapped due to massive cave-in, and loss of comms at this time, break.
Zerg C2 node has evaded neutralization by traveling through warp gate, break.
Recommend boosting transmission signal to penetrate interference, break.
We will be standing by for mission updates, over"

Matt breathed a huge sigh as he finished. There was no way of knowing if anyone heard his transmission until they heeded his advice and got a signal through to them. For the time being, Matt decided to take his own advice and take a breather with the other troopers.

My troopers now, Matt reminded himself. With how events had played out, he was concerned about their mental health, having just seen the rest of their unit cut down in front of them. If it happened to be that rescue wouldn't make it to them before they ran out of water, that would only exacerbate the stress on them. He vowed to do whatever he could to make things a bit easier for them all going forward, and to Matt, that involved breaking a few rules about professionalism.

He sat down with them and pulled the rest of his ration bar out to chew on, as well as pulling out the hose for his hydro pack.

"Any luck, Sergeant?" Sergei asked, breaking the silence.

"None yet. I tried Connelly's radio boost trick, but until they boost their own signal we won't hear anything back."

"So what the hell're we supposed to do now, Sar'nt?" John asked. "Sitting down here, thumb in ass, isn't going to get us back any faster."

Matt closed his eyes as he chewed on his ration bar, wondering the same thing. "For now, we'll take stock over all our equipment and supplies, if nothing else figure out how long we can last down here without support."

"... Does that include the, uh, 'rest of the platoon's' equipment, Sergeant?" Mike asked, looking green around the gills at the prospect.

"'Fraid so, Connelly." Mike seemed to shrink in on himself when Matt confirmed his fears. "I know it's not gonna be pleasant, but it's gotta be done. If we're gonna have any chance of getting out of this situation alive we need to know how long we can last, and that means we've gotta use everything available to us."

"... Rah, Sergeant."

Matt reached forward and put his hand on Mike's shoulder. Looking him dead in the eyes he said with as much confidence as he could muster, "Hey, we'll be alright. It's gonna be tough, but I promise you we're going home alive. I just need you to dig deep and give me everything you got, you hear me?" He turned and addressed the others as well. "That goes for all of us. I'll keep it real with y'all, we're deep in the shit now and it's gonna take some major fucking guts to get out of this alive. Right now, the five of us are all we've got for the foreseeable future so we've gotta support each other the best we can, Rah?"

"Rah, Sar'nt!" the troopers replied with a bit more enthusiasm than Matt expected. The troopers turned back to their rations, but at least this time they were talking and in somewhat higher spirits.

When they finished, and Matt was confident they were thoroughly mentally prepared for the coming ordeal, the began the process of recovering the platoons equipment. One by one, they started pulling the bodies of their comrades from the pile of death, lining them side-by-side, facing upwards. The least they could do for them now was to at least preserve their dignity.

Once all twenty one troopers were accounted for, the five survivors began removing everything from the dead troopers' web gear and rucksacks. They paid attention to gathering up all of their weapons, ammunition, rations, hygiene supplies, and anything else that would help them survive the wait for rescue. Everything they found they consolidated into like-item groups to better keep count of how much they had to work with. After exhausting everything in their fallen comrade's inventory, the survivors emptied out their own gear and added what they had left to the lay-out.

Once they recovered and laid out everything they could, Matt started listing a count of everything that was still serviceable.

• Laser rifles: 15 - 152 cells
• Marksman lasers: 4 - Same as LRs
• Laser pistols: 7 - 25 cells
• Machine lasers: 3 - 24 cells
• 50mm UBGL: 5 - 32 HE, 14 HEDP, 7 Perd
• Hailstorm: 1 - 4 rockets
• 90mm RecR: 1 - 4 HE, 4 HEAT, 2 Nuke
• Frag gren: 19
• Perd gren: 7
• LRAS binos: 3
• IFAK: 19
• 24hr MRE: 41
• Water: ~50L

Matt studied the list of equipment, doing the math on how long they could last on their current supplies. They had enough MREs to last three weeks, assuming they rationed based on their level of activity, but what worried him was their water supply. At most, they had maybe two weeks if they drank the bare minimum to survive. Stuart discussed rationing with him when Matt was interrupted by a soft, static-y voice crackle over comms.

"Red Two Eagle, this is Bastion Actual, radio check, over."

He nearly choked on his water when he heard the callsign; Bastion Actual was Major Gutierrez: commander of the Marine security detachment stationed on Braxis.

He cleared his throat and gave the appropriate response, "Bastion Actual, this is Red Two Eagle, read you quiet but readable, how me, over?"

"Red Two Eagle, I read you same. Your last transmission was reported by your D-Back crews. I assume all higher leadership is incapacitated, over?

"Roger, Bastion Actual, all others are KIA, over."

"... Understood, Red Two Eagle. Listen, we've got engineering crews topside of your location with high detail scanners. The plan is to attempt boring through the ice to get you boys out of there ASAP, but they need time to assess the condition of the ice sheet. How much food and water do you boys have down there, over?"

"Bastion Actual, between everything we could recover, we can last at most two weeks on current supplies. Limiting factor being water, over."

"Roger that, Red Two Eagle. Can you confirm first transmission? You found a, ah, brain creature that's controlling the Zerg, over?"

"Affirmative, Bastion Actual. The Zerg does not accurately match any known strains and is capable of extreme psionic potential, since it was what caused the cave-in, over."

"Understood, Red Two Eagle. And can you confirm that it..." There was a short pause in the Major's transmission. Matt assumed he must have been looking at a transcript of his earlier message. "That it escaped through an active Protoss warp gate, over?"

The incredulity in the Major's voice was palpable even through the poor signal, but Matt confirmed. "That is affirmative, Bastion Actual, I'm looking at it right now, over."

The Major paused briefly again. Then, "Is it... still active, over?"

Matt briefly looked over the warp gate and replied, "Well, the whole ring is glowing blue, and there's a big white glowing wall inside it, so unless the Protoss like using them as street lights when they aren't using them, that's affirmative, over."

A much longer pause came before the Major finally stated, "Red Two Eagle, your new callsign will be Red Strike until further notice. Your orders are to hold position and secure the warp gate until the engineering crews can determine a course of action, how copy, over?"

"Copy, Bastion Actual, we're to hold position and secure the warp gate until a course of action is determined, over."

"Affirmative, Red Strike. You boys sit tight now. Over and out."

"Wilco, out," Matt said and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He turned to Stuart and couldn't help but grin. "Finally got comms up and working. The engies just have to figure out a way to get to us now."

Stuart laughed. "Finally some good fucking news for once, we got an ETA?"

"Not yet," Matt said with a shake of his head. "For now, we'll keep an eye on the gate. Hopefully nothing comes back through there, but it pays to be prepared."

As it turned out, it took almost a full twenty-four hours for them to finally receive an update.

"Red Strike, this is Bastion Actual, over."

"Bastion Actual, this is Red Strike, go ahead, over."

"Red Strike, I've got a bit of bad news I'm afraid. I'll spare you the details, but the engineers report that the ice sheet above you is incredibly unstable, and that so much as sticking a shovel in there could lead to further cave-ins. They think they can get through, but the process would take up to a full month to complete."

Matt sputtered in shock. A month! We can barely last two weeks down here! He struggled to collect himself before replying, "Bastion Actual, we can't wait nearly that long down here, over."

The Major sounded resigned as he said, "... Copy that, Red Strike." Matt could almost hear the Major take a deep breath before asking, "Red Strike, your previous PL stated in his last transmission that the Zerg spoke to you. Can you provide any details about what it said, over?"

The fuck does this have to do with anything? Matt thought angrily, but tried to remember the gloating of the foul creature. "Bastion Actual, it was mostly gloating and taunting, but it said something about the gate leading to the Zerg's 'ascendance' and that they would rule the galaxy or something to that effect, over."

"Roger that. Red Strike, we have new orders for you. Before I continue, is the gate still active?"

Oh, Sweet Mother Mercy, do not say what I think you're about to say... "Affirmative, Bastion Actual."

"Red Strike, you and your team are to go through the warp gate and conduct zone reconnaissance. Find that damn slug, and if you can, kill the bastard. In about a month's time, we'll be sending reinforcements through to you, but until then, you'll be on your own. You've been given permission to act as you see fit, so long as you represent the interests of the Terran Dominion to the best of your ability." He paused. "... This includes brokering alliances on the Dominion's behalf, should the opportunities arise. How copy, over?"

I'm sorry, did he fucking say we're ambassadors if we find any aliens there? "Solid copy, Bastion Actual. May I ask where this permission came from, over?"

"The Emperor, over."

... oh...

"How the fuck do they expect us to do that?" Stuart asked incredulously after Matt finished explaining the mission to the remaining troopers.

"I honestly have no idea," said Matt, still reeling from the absurdity of the orders. "But I'll say this, we're goners if we stay down here and wait it out. Ain't no way in hell we can survive long enough without resupply."

"Honestly, it sounds like this might be our best chance," Sergei said in his typical calm tone.

"How do you figure?"

Sergei steepled his hands. "Look at it this way: We're dead for sure if we stay here, but if we go through the other side, there's at least a chance we might be able to get supplies from the local area."

"That's assuming wherever that gate leads is somewhere habitable. For all we know it could drop us in the middle of deep space."

"Then that's a chance we'll have to take."

"Well... to be fair," Mike said, speaking up. "If this gate's as old as the original Protoss colony here, then wherever it leads must've been a part of their empire at some point. That would imply that it's habitable at least."

Stuart, still unconvinced, said, "That would also imply a Protoss presence on the other side, and they've probably never even seen a Terran if they've been cut off since they abandoned Braxis. Hell, First Contact between the Confederacy and Protoss was them glassing Chau Sara to wipe out the Zerg. I don't see meeting them going over well for us. Besides, this planet turned into a ball of fucking ice since the 'Toss left, so that's no guarantee wherever that thing leads is still habitable after all this time."

"The only guarantee we have is that we're all dead if we don't go, Corporal," Sergei insisted.

"C'mon Corporal, where's your sense of adventure?" John asked with his loopy grin. "Think about it: freedom to act as we see fit, exploring an uncharted world, hell, maybe we can find some hot alien babes for you."

Stuart rolled his eyes and said, "Again, that's assuming it's habitable and actually inhabited by people, who'll most likely be Protoss and I ain't going for that."

"What, you sayin' you wouldn't do nasty things to Executor Selendis?" John teased.

"... That's besides the point."

Matt pinched the bridge of nose and groaned, "Look, all of this is irrelevant. Let's assume for a minute that whatever that Zerg said is true, that if they manage to seize control of wherever that gate leads they'll be unstoppable. If any of that's true, then we're the only thing standing between them and the destruction of everything we've ever known. If they're left unchecked there for a whole month, there's no telling what we'll be facing when the fighting really kicks off. If we can at least gather intel, maybe run interference, then we might give the boys back home a fighting chance.

"And I don't know about you, but I want some fucking payback."

Stuart fell silent and looked up at the cave ceiling, hands on his hips, lost in thought. Finally he said, "Fuck it. I'd rather die fighting than in this shit hole. The fuck are we waiting for then?"

Smiling, Matt shook his head. "Alright, we're gonna have to carry as much with us as we can. Nothing gets wasted."

They approached the spread of equipment and start cross loading all the ammunition, food, water, and equipment so that they each had an equal spread of everything they needed. The rifle cells, batteries the size of small medicine bottles, were split four ways between Matt, Stuart, John, and Mike, while the machine laser cells, about the size of a beer can, all went to Sergei, being the only one who could use them. They each now carried a pistol with five cells on their hip. Matt, Stuart, and Mike now had a UBGL attached to their rifles as well as carrying a pair of the LRAS binoculars. Stuart took the RecR with its ten shells were split between Matt and John, while Mike mounted the Hailstorm launcher over his shoulder. They couldn't take the leftover weapons with them, so instead they opted to strip them for parts and holding onto whatever went to their weapons.

By the time they finished loading their gear and rucksacks, not one of them carried less than sixty five kilograms, making it the heaviest amount of gear they'd ever carried into a mission.

Loaded and ready to go, they ascended the warp gate's platform and stood in front of the glowing wall.

Matt keyed the radio one last time. "Bastion Actual, this is Red Strike. SP at this time, five PAX, how copy, over?"

"Red Strike, I read you SP now, five PAX. Godspeed, gentlemen. Do the Corps proud. Over and out."

"Wilco, out." Matt took a deep breath and faced his men. "Alright boys, let's fuck shit up."

"Rah!" the troopers yelled, and ran as one into the gate.

Matt was momentarily blinded as he entered the gate. He at first thought it was the glow of the portal itself, but quickly realized that wherever they had ended up was brightly lit by a harsh sun. After adjusting the opacity of his visor, he scanned the area around them.

They stood atop an identical warp gate to the one they had just entered, but rather than being buried thousands of meters under the ice, it was open to the sky and surrounded by crumbling sandstone ruins, partially buried by desert sands. Beyond the ruins were towering sand dunes that obscured their vision of anything past a few kilometers at most.

So now we're in a desert. Starting to think Stu might've been right... Matt thought.

After spreading out to establish 360 degree security, they quickly confirmed that the Zerg where nowhere present near them. After all, there was no reason for them to stay in a location such as this. The Zerg needed biomass, and a desert was far from a bountiful source.

The troopers regrouped in the shade of one of the more intact ruins. They quickly noticed that many of its walls were covered in bas-relief carvings, not dissimilar to pictures of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, and with similar art styles. Curious, Matt inspected them in more detail. Scattered throughout the carvings were clearly the depictions of Protoss, unmistakable with their digitigrade legs, large heads, and mouthless faces. With much greater frequency, he noticed many images of creatures he recognized from Old Earth mythology. Unicorns, pegasi, griffins, minotaurs, and a slew of many other fantastical creatures populated its walls.

"Huh. I guess Connelly was right," Stuart said, intrigued. "The Protoss definitely were here."

"Looks that way. But look at all this; these are creatures from our mythology. What the hell is this place?" Matt wondered.

"Do you think there might have been a connection between this place and Earth?" Sergei asked.

Mike shook his head. "I doubt it. The Protoss didn't even know Earth existed until the UED came to the sector."

"Then how else do you explain it?"

Mike simply shrugged, just as perplexed as the others.

Resigned, Matt said, "Whatever this place is, we probably won't get any answers here. Whoever built all this is long gone, and it clearly wasn't the Protoss."

Indeed, the architecture of the ruins was indicative of a much more primitive civilization. While the warp gate stood untouched by time, the surrounding ruins were worn down by wind, sand and time.

"Hey, uh, guys?" John called from in front of another wall, having wandered off unnoticed. "You think this might be important?"

He stood in front of a single, massive bas-relief that covered an entire wall. It's lower half was dominated by a mass congregation of the same mythical beings on the other carvings, all bowing down in reverence. Centered above them was a towering image of a Protoss with outstretched arms, decked out in the regal clothing they frequently wore.

"So... these Protoss came here at some point thousands of years ago, and... what, enslaved the locals here?" Stuart postulated.

"I don't know... this doesn't look like servitude," Sergei thought out loud. "This looks more like worship."

"Sounds about right for the Protoss, honestly," John muttered.

Matt had to agree; the ancient Protoss were not remembered fondly by the Daelaam, their current governing body. Still, he didn't see any of this as being particularly useful information, especially considering its age.

"Whatever it was, I doubt it's got any relevance now. This place looks thousands of years old, so whoever did worship or serve them is long gone. We need to keep moving."

"Rah, Sarn't."

They climbed to the top of the tallest dune they could find and began scanning the horizon with their LRAS binoculars, looking for any kind of distinguishing landmarks or signs of Zerg presence. Before long, Matt spied a small mountain range in the distance, with a number of narrow canyons carved in its recesses.

"Well boys, I think I've got our first target," Matt said. "Do you guys see anything else?"

The troopers confirmed finding nothing, so Matt locked in his compass direction on one of the canyons. Unfortunately - and concerningly - the mountains were too distant for the laser rangefinder in his LRAS to gauge a distance, so they would just have to march until they arrived. Matt hoped there would at least be a water source there, given the presence of the canyons.

"Right, wedge on me, lets go."

The ensuing march lasted four days, thankfully uneventful. After rucking from sun up to sun down, only stopping to relieve themselves, Matt determined they had covered a staggering 350 kilometers, setting a new record for the entire division.

Any march of that duration would have been a massive undertaking, made even worse by the hot sun, towering dunes and enormous weight they carried. Just as the sun was about to set, the troopers entered the designated canyon exhausted, their muscles screaming and running dangerously low on water.

"Slava Bogu za vse!" Sergei shouted as they saw a stream of clear water flowing through the bottom of the windswept canyon.

Matt looked around, breathing heavily. The canyon was an eerie reminder of how the whole journey began on Braxis, but, undeterred, he ordered them to sit down and rest in the shade.

"Hey Sar'nt..." John said between gasps. "How far did we go?"

"A little over... three fifty clicks," Matt gasped. Never in his career did he ever think he would have to ruck that far. If - when - they made it back to garrison, he vowed to never again complain on their monthly ruck march.

"Heh heh... Can't wait to see Sergeant Major's face when we tell him we beat his record," he said with a grin.

"Hah, yeah, one more thing to look forward to." Despite himself, Matt couldn't help but grin at the thought.

They refilled all the hydro packs from the stream and placed a purification tablet in each. In spite of their bodies protesting their every movement, the troopers were all in high spirits, clapping each other on the back and congratulating each other. They set up a patrol base in a hidden nook and rolled out their sleeping bags for the night, finally optimistic for what lay ahead.

When they awoke the next morning, they repacked their rucksacks prepared to continue on. Matt made the executive decision that they would follow the canyon up, and hopefully reach the other side of the mountains where they would plot their next move.

The troopers traveled single file through the canyon, the stream to their right. They traveled at a slower pace than before, keeping their eyes and ears open in case any Zerg happened to be in the area. By midday, the canyon broke into a wide opening where two smaller canyons converged into one, each with its own stream adding to the one they had followed.

Matt gaped at the sight before him. What could only have been a village made out of molded sandstone filled the canyon's fork, with additional structures dug out of the stone walls themselves. High in the vertex of the fork, a grand, imposing structure had been carved out of the stone, situated where it could be seen from anywhere in the village in its elevated position. If Matt didn't know any better, he would say that it looked like a palace of some kind.

The architecture was utterly alien, conjuring images of insect hives. If the Zerg ever made buildings, Matt suspected they would look similar to what they discovered. Still, such a thing was unheard of among the Zerg, especially considering that they never used tools. Within the winding streets, doors and windows were artifacts that could only have belonged to a civilized species. Carts, tools, baskets, stalls, pottery, carpets, tapestries, and a host of other assorted items filled the stone village. As they neared the buildings, they noticed that the doors were barely shoulder-height, meaning that whoever lived here was significantly shorter than the Terrans.

Except, no one was living there.

Once Matt noticed this, he put the troopers on high alert. Though there was no sign of life, Zerg or otherwise, they began glimpsing evidence of a struggle. They found overturned carts, shattered windows, collapsed walls and the like throughout the village. Covering almost everything was what could only have been described as splatters of dried, green blood, yet no bodies were to be found. Everywhere they looked, they saw the unmistakable two-toed footprints of zerglings covering the streets, and deep claw marks gouging out window sills and doors where they had gained entry.

Matt led the troopers through the village and towards the "palace." Whatever the structure was, it was undoubtedly of high importance. If any answers were to be found, it would be there. They ascended a spiraling flight of stone stairs, weapons raised, and stepping as lightly as possible as they infiltrated the building. They reached its highest room, hoping that it would be the home or office of someone of high status, and found themselves looking into an unexpectedly tall, but shattered, ornate wooden door.

Within the room was a circular bedchamber, almost completely surrounded by windows that had an unobstructed view of the village. A green, four poster bed sat against an unwindowed portion of wall to the left of the door. Tapestries and alien artwork depicting fantastical creatures filled the room. On the far wall, opposite the door, lay a wide semicircular desk pressed against the windows, covered in stacks of parchment, quills and ink pots.

Standing in front of it, with their back to them, was now the second strangest creature Matt had laid eyes on.

In shape, it resembled a small, slender horse, but beyond that, nothing else matched. Instead of fur it was covered in glistening black chitin, with bizarre holes going through its legs as if enormous termites had burrowed through them. Its mane and tail were made of a flowing green membrane that behaved in the same way hair would. Two pairs of long translucent insect wings like that of a dragonfly were folded along its back. A pair of pointed black ears stuck out the top of its head, from the front of which sprouted a long, single horn shaped like an ancient khopesh sword. Intriguingly, the horn was glowing a bright, lime green, and a sheet of parchment that looked curiously like a letter hovered in front of the creature, shrouded in the same glow.

Given its bizarrely insect-like appearance, Matt assumed it was some kind of new Zerg strain that the brain creature might have cooked up from the local fauna since its arrival. Though the troopers had only arrived a day behind, Matt had a suspicion that it could travel far faster than they, thus putting it several days ahead of them.

Was that enough time for it to make something like this? Matt wasn't sure, but he wasn't willing to take any chances. He carefully stepped into the room and raised his rifle at the bug-horse as the rest of the troopers followed suit.

As Matt flipped the safety off his rifle, the soft click made the bug-horse's ears twitch in his direction and the creature whirled around to face them. A short-muzzled face stared back at him with a look of sheer terror.

Then its bright blue, cat-like eyes rolled up into its head as it fainted.