Sccrrrreeeeeeeeeee

  Both our pulsers open fire, landing dead center mass of the enemy. Green shielding flares alive, the mark of real Novan combat armor. Six railguns rise, preparing to shoot us both when the door opens and all hell breaks loose.

  Ten plasma bolts slag a suit of combat armor, burning through shields, armor, then servos and flesh a half second later. There is hardly enough left of the soldier, certainly not enough to reclaim biomass from. Two railguns crack, one decimating a line, the other going wide.

  Demo charge flies through the air, machine augmented reactions readying to deflect the bomb. A sound tactic, made possible only due to precoded algorithms.

  Now made impossible by an Emu with the triggering switch.

  For three seconds the world goes shut. Our visors darken, explosion ripes through the tunnel, volume muted by our armor to protect eyes and ears for three entire seconds. Our grav sled catches on a doorway, halting. I override the HELP system, yanking open my helmet and visor.

  In front of us we find stumps of men, three cut in half, one entirely gone, and another thrown across the hallway. Extreme damage.

  Our pulsers pound in a heartbeat of deadly cannonade. No head survives our wrath, nor do we dare take chances with these particular elites.

  The next hour is spent clearing an empty tunnel, except for the final room -which we dare not enter while the AI remains unchecked- then cataloging our countless supplies. At first Hygieia and Alaea smile, then they laugh, then they howl hallelujah at the contents of the final room, a large enclosed space that must have served as the Technocracy’s foundry. Now guarded by a single tank, flatter and boxier than a Juggernaut yet clearly built off the same design, bearing only one immense emiter for armaments. Two lings scout the tank, finding it to be a rare crewed vehicle, without an integrated pilot. We’ve taken our half of the bunker.

  This time, we join in that cry.

  Finally Rousing Athena from her grief.

  [+1 Full scale Novan Primary Foundery, including reactor manufacturing and tank building capacity]

  [Juggernauts unlocked]

  –(Back to Athena)---

  After I cried all the tears I had, silence forced me to acknowledge the uncomfortable truth. We needed to find Red or decipher what he used to make Kerrigan. Her condition must be similar to flash training, except it took. Implanting itself deeper into her psyche with each passing moment. I need help.

  I push off Barker, finding him very still.

  “Hey Barker, thanks, uh, you’re a great chest- erm- shoulder to cry on.” I stutter.

  “Welcome.” Barker hisses, still on the verge of death.

  “Oh shit! You should have said something!” I snap, tagging him and starting the process for a warp back to Hygieia.

  “I’ll live.” He says, moving one hand to his guts, where crimson life leaks between armor. “Probably.” He finishes, disappearing.

  “You idiot.” I hiss. “Take care of yourself!” I shout at no one.

  I’m alone in a cloning lab dedicated to stealing my best friend, it’s time to leave.

  >Terran Thena: Hey Alaea, I need you to go through Red’s Lab, I can’t figure out any of this.

  My hope is that she’ll take over everything, make my problem go away. Alaea is good at that, able to warp in and out of reality with a thought.

  >Executrix Alaea: TOUCH NOTHING

  >Executrix Alaea: NOT A SINGLE THING!

  >Executrix Alaea: NO TOUCHIE!!!

  Her words are a balm to my soul, an excuse to leave this wretched lab of unspeakable abominations.

  >Terran Thena: Yes maam. I’m headed out.

  I leave just as a blue light washes over the lab, so similar to Alaea’s first scans, back when I was cut in half. Gloved fingers run over my stomach, finding a hint of abdominal muscles there. A small consolation, but enough to make me grin. Cardio and portion control have been my life since landing on Syrak-9, a lifestyle enforced by carpet bombing.

  >Executrix Alaea: Damn. The lab is shielded… Like, it’s protected from my scans…

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  >Executrix Alaea: Oh shit.

  >Executrix Alaea: This might be a nameless side project. Unsanctioned psychic replication. But I do not understand why the nameless would allow such a thing, they can literally rubber stamp new psychics whenever they want so there isn’t a benefit to a cloning operation like you are seeing.

  >Terran Thena: We’ll worry about that later. All I care about is getting each and every clone out of those tubes. Some of them are alive, and the way Kerrigan spoke about them, I think Red filled all the tubes with acid.

  >Executrix Alaea: Do not touch anything down there. I know you want to break all the tubes open but not like this. You don’t know if those tubes are full of nervegases or acids. There is a cloning technique that subjects a specimen to external damage in highly regulated quantities, down to the number of parts per trillion, if you start smashing things all willy nilly you could break open a nerve gas canister and die before you can finish the thought. DO. NOT. TOUCH.

  >Terran Thena: FINE.

  I want nothing more than to start emptying those tubes, unable to shake the vision of a young Kerrigan being flushed away. What her last thoughts might be before submolecular disassembly turns her into protein sludge. Out of spite I take Barker’s solarium ax to the drones, hacking them into tiny pieces.

  “Soon, you will all be free.” I whisper, heading out to rejoin my team.

  On my way I bury my face in the resources we’ve collected. Seeing the values measured in tonnage makes my head spin. Forget Hygieia’s bioship, find me a starport and let’s hook up TWO battlecruisers with a whole complement of bioships to act as chaff.

  The age old question of ‘who called in the fleet’ is answered with two arms up, ME!

  Dreams falter when I finally encounter Wormface and the team of reaper Emus, all laughing with helmets open in the very last room of tunnel 2. Where the passageway dead ends into a cavernous space large enough for three football fields. I only know of the third because tremorsense can feel the factory’s innards working.

  A fully intact Novan Technomancy of Steel, Primary Foundry. My jaw falls so hard it passes through Syrak’s rarified core.

  “Guys. Wut. How!” I blabber, my own faceplate coming up.

  “Oi Boss, good ta see you up and Adams.” Calls Emurine, somehow grinning smugly through that immobile beak of his.

  Wormface raises one arm, pointing behind me. Brows furrow, why does he want me to turn around? Seems like an odd request, but of all the marines, he is the most loyal. My lancelot -erm, maybe worm-a-lot- in shit-brown camo armor. So I turn.

  Hundreds of occupied cryotubes line the wall, locked into some kind of conveyer. Nude and hairless humans reside within each pod and I begin to wonder where they originated from, what world Jim or collectors like him abducted these people from. Then I see the tattoos. A cross with ‘Jesus Cristo’ covering a swarthy man’s chest.

  “They’re from earth. My Earth!”

  “Indeed they are boss. Alaea helped us disconnect the factory from AI control. See those two rooms over there, eh, maybe shed is the right word.” Says Wormface, pointing to what appears to be a corrugated steel shed. As well as the termination point for the tube conveyer.

  I know nothing about it, and yet, I know exactly what will happen to any human who enters that room, or its mirror on the other side of the tunnel entrance. A lobotomy will be performed with industrial tools, like the cordless drill you keep in the basement closet, then the human will have any extraneous wetware removed. Breasts, testicles, penises, excetera, all will be removed along with any defects. Then underperforming wetware will be replaced with hardware tailored to the individual’s future role. Be it technician, or…

  I turn back, facing the rows of empty Juggernauts. So many completed hulls stare back at me, as if I’ve walked into a Footlocker store, except the shoeboxes lining the walls are fully operational Main Battle Tanks waiting for a single pilot. I see stacks upon stacks of weapons against the walls, plasma cannons, laser arrays, and more guns than Tiananmen square during a parade.

  “Holy shit. We have tanks!” I blurt, thinking this is exactly how you feel when playing as Tosh at New Folsom after kicking in the doors to cell block B.

  I feel like a million bucks, not 25k credits!

  [+50 mechanized vehicles]

  >Terran Thena: Ladies, are you seeing this shit! We have like, fifty tanks ready to go!

  >Executrix Alaea: Too bad all those humans in tubs can’t pilot them.

  >Matriarch Hygieia: hehehe

  >Matriarch Hygieia: already tossed the project to zazathur

  >Matriarch Hygieia: hopefully these juggernauts wont be pink OR fluffy

  My gag reflex triggers immediately at the mention of Spiderman. A shudder traversing my spine up then down once more.

  >Terran Thena: Let’s not focus on that. What I want to know, is can we build Thors.

  >Executrix Alaea: Mass produce? Technically yes, practically? Hell Naw. But if we can get enough solarium reactors… I already found the plans for a bigass mech with shields, long range artillery, and a backpack made of ICBMs.

  >Terran Thena: A shielded Thor?! WITH NUKES! Girl, stop. One can only be so aroused.

  >Executrix Alaea: Honestly, it’s more like a 40k titan with how many supplemental guns it has, like imagine your tech suit tentacles scaled up to Walmart sized, and replace tentacles with missile launchers or plasma fusilades tucked into every nook and cranny of this giant while somehow keeping the svelte exterior. Ahem, if you think a hunchbacked goblin with no neck and knuckle dragging arms is sleek.

  >Terran Thena: Biggass shields are everything this girl needs. Is this factory fully automated? Like, can you control everything remotely?

  >Executrix Alaea: Sorta. I can control the factory but I’ll need some of the marines to stick around. Keep the relays operational so my orders don’t get interrupted or interfered with since you’re so far underground. Hygieia thinks she can have a few lobotomized humans stick around for me to work through. It’ll take some doing, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere else, so this is now my pet project.

  >Terran Thena: So, this is our main base…

  And it only cost Kerrigan to obtain it.

  “Alright, good job everyone. Lets go help the Tulverians with their half. Then we can start fortifying the bunker entrance too. Drat, we’re spread so thin. Hard to hold all this territory with so few soldiers. Bummer, it’s not like you need armor to hide in a pillbox- OH! We can leave that to the iguanas!”

  “If any of the blimey frogs are left.” Says Emurine, activating his visor then jetpack, six Ereapers flying down the tunnel.