THE INFINITE BROOD (Starcraft/Supreme Commander Crossover Quest!)

Your fingers drummed on the console. There was a strategic angle that had been gnawing at the back of your mind. The UEF worked hard to make their technology as hard to reverse engineer as possible - the same was true of Cybran and Aeon technology, out in the greater war. You leaned your head back in the seat. The few Cybran ACUs that had been captured since they had shifted from hit and run to stand up fights had all had the same deeply encoded, hard-core level encryption in them...

But what if the Protoss got their hands on it?

Hell, you knew it wasn't a good idea to underestimate the local Terrans, they'd managed technological advancements that the UEF hadn't managed - every refined scan on a battlecruiser made you wonder if maybe General Hall had been too hard on DeGalle. You made a face, slowly. The only faction you were pretty sure you didn't have to worry about getting their hands on an ACU and a nanolathe was the Zerg. How'd they even know to use it?

But each factory you built was another chance that someone might get the tech back to Mengsk.

The facility was abandoned.

"I'm heading in," you said, firmly.

"General?" Matt sounded a little uncertain.

"The drone said it was safe, and no one's found a quantum jammer that can shut a human brain down. Besides..." You frowned, slightly. "I want to get this out of the way before the locals get tetchy." Your fingers tapped at the controls. The internal fabricator hummed to life. "Don't worry. I'm not going in empty handed."

"Understood," Matt said.

The internal cockpit of the ACU shunted to the side and then down. When the side door opened, the bitterly hot air from outside blasted against your face. Your eyebrows felt like they were drying out, growing crumbly in seconds. You ignored it - your breather mask settled into place as you started to scramble down the ladder set along the side of the ACU's belly and thigh. When you got to the ground, you glanced back at your suit - and whistled softly.

"Sir?" Stukov asked.

"Just taking in the new perspective, lieutenant," you said, heading for the door quickly. The difference in temperatures outside and in was remarkable. Just being out of the direct wind being blown off the lava, away from the ash and the scorching sun, was enough. The interior corridor was just as gray and abandoned as you had seen from the outside. You took a moment to check your gear. The ACU's emergecy supply fabrication suite was for the rare situation where you had to ditch the ACU without being able to trigger the self destruct powered teleport disengage. It only happened when you got EMP'd to hell or the ACU got hit with something that managed to take the teleport disengage system out while also leaving you alive and not hitting the fusion reactor.

Those hits were rare...but...in a war that had lasted a thousand years, they had come up often enough by chance and good planning - or bad planning in some cases - that the ACU was pre-loaded with fabrication systems that could spit out a basic pistol and some other essentials. Body armor, for one thing. The combat weave was light enough that you weren't going to be slowed down, and you had space enough for three magazines - enough considering they were fifty round caseless nano-shot cubes. The police used them for civilian criminals and they were programmable to a certain extend, though your sidearm was designed to just handle bullet and pellet variations. No shooting around walls for you.

Your boots made soft, lonely clacking noises as you headed forward into the corridor.

Something the drone hadn't picked up was the emptiness of the place. How...sad it was, just walking through it. The scent of desperation and antiseptic had worked into the walls in a way that you hadn't expected. You frowned as you paused at one of the rooms you'd seen in grainy drone footage: The classrooms, the medical chambers. You paused at one of the classrooms, stepping inside. One of the desks flickered to sputtering life, its batteries not quite running down. The bright cubes and rectangles of some geometry lesson danced in the air above the console, while a distorted voice warbled: "Put the c-c-c-c-cubes in the...in the...in the..."

You shook your head. "Age range, what, twelve?"

Stukov coughs. "Uh, no, General, this appears to be a basic geometry learning program - shapes and pattern recognition. Twelve year olds, ahh, would be doing something more sophisticated."

Your cheeks colored slightly. "I don't really have much experience with kids," you said.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Generals. I have six nephews, three cousins the same age as them, and four sons," he said, sounding a little pleased.

You remembered that he was a family man, from the dossier. But still. You hadn't been sure how involved he was. You harrumphed. "So, what age range would you say this is?"

He hissed. "Depending on the nature of the children, General. But I'd say, early kindergarden. Preschool, even."

"That'd be ages, what, three? Four?" you frowned. "Who the hell puts a school room of four year olds out here?"

No one had a good answer for that. You moved past the classrooms, shining the flashlight attached to your firearm into the medical examination rooms. The light played over gleaming metal. Had it seemed quite so...sharp edged through the drone? You felt a cold creeping sense of dread crawling along your back - and a weight in your belly. You pushed it aside. You were a General, goddamn it, not some private getting spooked by ghost stories. You swung your pistol back around.

A flash of pale white. A quiet sound.

You snapped your pistol up, aiming down the corridor at the junction - you had seen movement, zipping around the corner.

"General?" Stukov asked.

"Sam, your heartrate just spiked," Matt said, his voice concerned enough that you could forgive the lapse in discipline. You frowned.

"Did either of you catch that?" you asked.

"No? Playing back your headset view over thirty seconds," Stukov said. You could hear your own muffled gasp playing back to yourself - and the picture in picture in your breather's projected HUD flicked over your eyes. You saw no sign of motion, no flash of white. But as you watched the feed in slow motion, frame by frame...

You heard that sound again. And you identified it.

It was a giggle.

Your skin crawled. You hurried to the corner, then aimed your pistol around it - painfully aware that you had to pick left or right to shine the light down. Your back prickled as your light spilled over the corridors leading into the cafeterias and mess halls. You turned and shone the light towards the gymnasiums and other chambers.

Where the bodies are...

Your hand felt sweaty as you muttered over the line. "Please tell me you heard that giggle," you said.

"No, the mics didn't pick it up," Stukov said.

Your jaw tightened. "Dr. Hanson, are my biometrics showing anything unusual?"

"Other than a heightened level of stress, elevated heart rate...nothing that our medicomps can pick up," Dr. Hanson said. "But General, your -zzzzzz- read me? Do yo- zzshshhh-"

Her voice dissolved into a hissing gale of static as your light flickered, winking on and off again. You slapped your palm against the side of your gun and frowned. "Dr. Hanson?" you asked. "Major Horner? Lieutenant Stukov?" The only response you got was a howling storm. Someone had just turned the quantum jammer from low to high.

An automated system?

Or something else.

Giggle.

The sound was coming from down the corridor. Past the cafeterias - towards the training areas of the building - large mazelike areas, shooting ranges, and other places for physical activity.

Your teeth were grinding.

---
HEAT: 0/6

[ ] Go deeper - towards the giggling.
[ ] Go deeper - check the cafeterias.
[ ] Fuck this place. Retreat and get some support.
[ ] Fuck this place. Retreat and level it with artillery.
[ ] Write In