THE FIRE WITHIN
***
Staring up at the beautiful, deep purple and creamy, fire orange hue of Chars opaque atmosphere, Jason Breeze struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. The Queen of Blades – Sarah Kerrigan – his friend; was gone.
As if dazed from a dream he could see the Zerg horde descend upon the battle lines. Jason' position was about to be overrun, baneling's had destroyed the defensive bunker line and in the distance the demonic sight of the Brood Lords sent shivers down his spine. Firing his point 3, light carbine assault rifle, Jason darted over the pools of corrosive acid from the baneling explosions, leaping behind the remains of the Mark5 assault siege tank. Its battered outer shell provided just enough cover from the razor sharp barbs of the Hydralisk enclosing on his position.
‘One mag left. Shit!’ thought Jason as the situation looked increasingly precarious. Peering out behind the charred remains he saw her. ‘Sarah’ he gasped. It was the first time he had seen her in that form. Her eyes were glowing and fire seemed to ooze from her soul. Her voice was eerily soothing as it scraped at the fibres of Jason’s innermost fears. She was only meters away when a bright, almost blinding, deafening light swept over the orange and black landscape. The Xel Naga’ artefact erupted and the violent explosion and blazing light cleansed everything it touched. As the wave of pure white swept over Jason, every bone, sinew and muscle of his being began to jolt violently. First fizzing and bubbling, like the sound of a gentle wave upon a shore, but steadily growing ever more powerful with each second that passed. It was a feeling that transcended that of physical sensation. It was intense, more intense than anything he had ever felt before, and then without warning there was pain. A tingle, an itch, a growing throbbing burn, a claustrophobic, choking fire that scolded and twisted every nerve ending in his body. It was a feeling that felt like it lasted for hours, but no sooner had that burning, blinding light erupted, it disappeared and a deafening silence filled the land. For a moment he thought it was snowing.
‘Snow, here’ he said to himself, as he gazed up at the soft, glowing flakes. Jason thought he were dreaming, but as he lay in the smouldering damp earth, the molten ash from a million Mutalisk's, Zergling's, Roaches and Overlords; the whole Zerg force, deftly drifted down from the brazen sky and began to settle on his visor. He lay there for what seemed like forever before the eerie silence began to break around him. First a mumble, a faint whisper on the wind, but soon the sound grew to the cacophony of war.
‘Medic!’ screamed a voice just over the dirt mound parapet, followed by the all too familiar screams of mortality. Willing his lifeless body into action was far harder than Jason thought. His bones felt like they were leaking acid, his joints felt ripped and tender and his limbs were unresponsive and clumsy. Pulling his body over the soft, hot mud ridge of his make shift bunker, he blinked wildly into the fiery, smoke filled light. Jason staggered to his feet, shaking the ringing furore out of his head.
‘Lieutenant Triscal!’ Jason' voice echoed inside his head. It was so horse and decrepit, he wondered if he had actually said anything.
‘Sir’ replied Triscal.
He was an intelligent, strikingly good-looking man, for a marine. Despite his haggard features – the kind of fatigued look, that only war can bring to a mans face – he was young. Triscal was hurriedly barking orders at his men before he realised the blood dripping down his face, it begun to pool in his combat helmet as he addressed Jason.
‘Captain,’ he said. ‘We have nine K.I.A, 59 injured and we are awaiting EVAC, ETA four minutes.
‘Very good lieutenant,’ replied Jason.
He eyed the porcupine features of the burnt and charred landscape for signs of Kerrigan. The sky was still snowing a dark, sludgy brown ash and the mad frenzy of the evacuation was in full motion.
