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A short story by

Brian T. Kindregan

The zerg would be in soon. They tore at the door, the walls, the ceiling. Erekul could feel the other high templar, his brothers and sisters, fighting and dying. Buying him precious seconds. He closed his eyes; the Khala pulsed within. The collective thoughts and feelings of his people were filled with chaos, terror, and pain.

The zerg had control of Erekul’s beloved homeworld of Aiur. The invaders likely thought themselves ascendant; they did not know that the fight was far from over. Erekul moved through the dark chamber to the console, his hands bathed in its soft blue glow. He entered the codes with serene grace. Behind him the door began to shudder.

At the edge of protoss-known space, the signal was received and noted. Crystals long dormant began to glow; energy wells irised open. Power flowed.

Erekul turned as the door finally crumpled. Two high templar, already dead, flew across the room and slid down the far wall. A mass of brown and grey flesh poured in: small, fast-moving zerglings – all spittle and mouth. Next came hydralisks, larger creatures bristling with spines and fury. Erekul’s eyes glowed icy blue, and he bowed his head, gathering his psionic energy. They came at him, a furious whirlwind of hate. He threw his arms wide, opening the floodgates. The zerg writhed, their bodies breaking and tearing. More poured through the door, choking it with their numbers. Erekul brought his psionic energy to bear on the largest of the slavering hydralisks, tearing its brain apart. More zerg spilled into the room, crawling over the quivering hydralisk, snarling. They moved to surround him. Erekul was spent – there would not be another psionic storm. With a mental scream of rage and pride, he threw himself at the zerg, tearing at them with his hands. Teeth and spines pierced his flesh, zerglings and hydralisks poured over him until he was gone.

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