From Titan Corporation to the Empire of Man

Chapter 635 "Large-scale life and psionic signals detected on the surface!"

“This planet seems quite peaceful,” Tychus said, exhaling a smoke ring with a hint of skepticism, “but my gut feeling tells me things aren’t so simple.”

Renault's gaze swept over the data on the star map, his brow furrowing slightly.

The surface of Monrays is indeed lush and green, but scans show unusually high energy readings in certain regions, and—

"Sir!" an operator suddenly shouted, "Large-scale life and psionic signals detected on the surface!"

Psychic power?

The air inside the bridge seemed to freeze instantly.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the center console.

The operator quickly projected the acquired images onto the holographic screen.

In the scene, a group of tall humanoid creatures clad in gold and silver armor are guarding an ancient ruin. Their hands extend energy weapons that shimmer with blue-green light, and their eyes beneath their helmets also gleam with an ominous light.

“Protoss.” Renault’s face instantly darkened, and his fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the center console.

"Protoss. Ah! I remember now!"

Tychus suddenly tapped his temple with his fist, the ash from his cigar falling to the ground. "The Mobius Foundation mentioned that a group of lunatics calling themselves Taldarim are guarding some kind of artifact here."

He turned to Raynor, his tone unusually serious, "Little Jimmy, these guys aren't your Protoss brothers, they're Amon's fanatics—the kind who kill without blinking an eye."

Leon, Mike, and Chris exchanged a serious look.

As special operations team members transferred from the Empire of Man to the Hyperion, they had heard of the Protoss before, but this was their first time facing them head-on.

Mike chimed in at the opportune moment, "Our intelligence data indicates that the Taldarim faction can be directly classified as a hostile target."

As he spoke, he drew a red line on the holographic map with his finger. “The ‘Amon’ they worship is some kind of ancient evil being.”

Renault's brow furrowed even more deeply.

He stared at the figures in the image and noticed that they were setting up some kind of energy nodes around the ruins.

"A direct assault or infiltration?" Matt Horner posed the crucial question, "If it's a divine artifact..."

Tychus scoffed, interrupting Matt: "Trying to reason with these religious lunatics? I'd rather dance the tango with the Zerg."

"."

Matt frowned slightly, seemingly very annoyed with his boss's (Jim Reynolds') brother.

"If we're going to infiltrate," Chris said, "our special operations team can be effective. After all, our goal is to obtain the artifact, not to engage in a direct confrontation with those Taldarim."

"And while we're at it, capture some lone Taldarim so the Biology Department can conduct research," Mike added.

"Capture the Protoss?" Matt asked skeptically. "Wouldn't that alert them?"

Just as the argument was about to escalate, the operator interrupted them again: "Sir! A large number of Zerg life signals have been detected! They are moving towards the ruins!"

The holographic image immediately switched, displaying a writhing black wave.

Hydralisks, Zerglings, and Ultralisks—their sheer numbers almost covered the entire scanned area, and they were heading straight for the ruins where Tal'darim was located.

"Damn it!" Raynor slammed his fist on the control panel. "How did the Zerg and Protoss run into each other at this time?"

“They’re fighting over the artifact,” Leon, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. “It seems that the artifact is important to both of them.”

As soon as the words were spoken, everyone realized that they were facing a choice—

Should they take advantage of the conflict between the two sides to reap the benefits, or immediately infiltrate the battlefield below?

Leon, Mike, and Chris turned their attention to Jim Reynolds, seemingly ready to leave the decision to the Ranger commander. After all, they were guests and would offer their support in either case.

Renault's gaze swept over everyone.

Tychus was still puffing out cigar smoke, while Matt was quickly calculating the evacuation route.

"Prepare the landing team," Renault finally ordered. "But we won't intervene immediately—let them fight like dogs first."

He suddenly revealed a sly smile: "Once we've fought enough, we'll decide what to do with the artifact."

"Hahaha!"

Tychus laughed and patted Leon on the shoulder: "Did you hear that, handsome old man? Today we're going to be fishermen!"

Soon after;
The lights inside the hangar turned a dark red as the alarm sounded, casting long, drawn-out shadows of busy figures.

Dozens of ground crew members moved between various vehicles, the sounds of wrenches clashing against metal echoing throughout.

Four Viking fighters are undergoing final checks as robotic arms fill their missile bays and rotary cannons with the latest types of bombs and armor-piercing rounds.

Not far away, the tracks of three siege tanks made a heavy crushing sound, and the twin 90mm main guns slowly rose and fell under the action of hydraulic devices, seemingly undergoing calibration and inspection.

"Hurry up! The Zerg and Protoss won't wait for us to have afternoon tea!"

The ground crew supervisor's shouts were particularly jarring in the noisy hangar.

In one corner of the hangar, dozens of special operations team members dressed in black nano-combat suits looked "out of place".

Their equipment wasn't as bulky as CMC power armor, but it exuded a deadly sense of refinement. Their breathing beneath the masks was steady and even, as if they were about to face not a fierce battle, but a routine training exercise.

“Hey, look over there.” A Ranger Marine nudged his comrade with his elbow and whispered, “Those guys from the Imperium of Man remind me of those Terran bastards’ Ghost agents.”

His companion also curled his lip: "At least they're not wearing those damn nerve suppressors, but to be honest, their equipment looks at least twenty years more advanced than ours."

"I heard the Queen of Blades used to be a Ghost agent?" the third Marine interjected. "Our boss (Jim Raynor) certainly has unique tastes."

A burst of laughter spread through the Marines, but it quickly stopped—several female medics in white CMC power armor were walking towards them.

Their gazes were clearly fixed on the special operations team, especially on Leon, who was inspecting his custom-designated hard-light firearms.

It seems that Lyon's appearance and temperament would attract a lot of attention from women in any universe.

"Tsk, does that blond guy really have that much charm?" a Marine said sourly.

Upon hearing this, the female medic leading the team stopped and narrowed her eyes slightly behind her visor. "At least they won't load the ammunition backwards before the mission."

As she spoke, she glanced meaningfully at the crooked magazine at the other man's waist. "Besides, you greenhorns don't understand the charm of mature men." "Tch, if you ask me, that short-haired hunk is more impressive." Another Marine pointed at Chris, who was stretching, and said dismissively, "Look at those muscles, he could kill a Thunder Beast with one punch, right?"

"Alright, girls, calm down." Tychus's loud voice suddenly came from above. He was standing outside the driver's cab of a siege tank. "After this war, you'll have plenty of time to pick up handsome guys."

Matt suddenly announced over the hangar's loudspeaker: "Attention all personnel, five minutes until landing. Repeat, five minutes until landing."

The atmosphere instantly turned tense and oppressive.

The Marines conducted a final check on the power armor's seals, the medics silently inventoried the first-aid equipment, and the special operations team members gathered together for a final tactical confirmation.

Lyon walked to the porthole and looked down at the green planet that was getting closer and closer.

The surface of Monrays is currently shimmering with an eerie purple light—a product of the intertwining of Taldarim psionic energy and Zerg creep.

“Remember,” Renault’s voice came through the communication channel to everyone, “our goal is to steal the artifact, not to be heroes. Come back alive, that’s an order.”

The plasma valves in the hangar opened, and the hangar was plunged into pre-battle darkness.

Before the last ray of light disappeared, Tychus lit a new cigar, the red glow of the cigarette butt standing out starkly in the darkness.
"Children, it's time to hunt."

The heavy roar of engines echoed in the darkness as the hatch of a Hercules transport plane slowly lowered. Not far away, five medical ships also started their engines, their ion thrusters spewing out eerie blue flames.

Five hundred Marines marched in neat rows into the cabins of the Hercules and the hospital ship. The metal soles of their CMC power armor clattered against the deck with a dull thud. More than a dozen female medics walked in the middle of the group, their white armor standing out in the dimly lit hangar.

The three siege tanks were towed into the cargo hold of the Hercules by a heavy tractor.

Leon, Mike, and Chris led a special operations team onto one of the medical ships. The optical camouflage of their nanosuits automatically adjusted as they boarded, making them almost blend into the shadows of the cabin.

Jim Reynolds and Tychus boarded last; the former checked the status of his dedicated anti-machine "rifle," while the latter leisurely blew smoke rings.

"Formation ready, requesting clearance," the pilot's voice came through the communication channel.

"Clearance to set sail," Matt Horner's voice came from the bridge. "Good luck to you all."

As the plasma valve fully opened, the pitch-black curtain of the universe unfolded before our eyes.

A formation of Hercules transport planes and five hospital ships slowly drove out of the hangar, followed closely by four Viking fighters that provided escort, their wings gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen under the starlight.

The formation sailed through the silent space, the massive silhouette of the Hyperion gradually receding into the distance, eventually becoming a point of light in the starry sky.

As the atmosphere of Monrays drew closer, the planet appeared from a distance like an emerald set in black velvet.

However, this beautiful scene was immediately shattered as the transport formation passed through the atmosphere.

The ground, which should have been lush and green, is now being eroded by an ever-expanding purple fungal carpet.

The dense jungle withered and decayed under the cover of fungal carpet, and the clear river was stained a murky purplish-black.

Swarms of flying mantises, representing the Zerg, hovered in the sky, their shrieks faintly audible even through the armor of the transport plane.

"Good heavens," a Marine muttered through the observation window, "this should be a resort."

The formation eventually landed on a high ground ten kilometers south of the ruins.

The area has not yet been completely eroded by the fungal carpet; many tenacious trees still stand tall, but their branches and leaves have already turned an unhealthy grayish-green.

The Viking fighter completed its transformation in mid-air, the mechanical joints emitting heavy metallic clanging sounds, the wings folded, and the landing gear extended.

In the blink of an eye, the four fighter jets transformed into four ground-based combat mechs, with missile bays on their shoulders and machine guns on their "arms" locking onto the surrounding area.

The doors of the Hercules transport plane slammed shut, the doors of the medical ship slid open, and the Marines filed out, immediately establishing a circular defensive position. Special operations teams and commanders also stepped onto this land that was about to be contaminated.

Three siege tanks deployed their supports, and their cannons turned towards the ruins.

“Leave one company to guard the landing zone.” Jim looked around and quickly made the deployment. “The rest of you advance towards the ruins and remain vigilant. We don’t know how far the Zerg and Protoss have progressed.”

Chris gave a hand signal, and the special operations team immediately released six miniature reconnaissance drones.

These palm-sized devices deployed optical camouflage and flew silently toward the ruins.

In less than two minutes, the images transmitted by the drone were displayed on everyone's helmet screens.

The area around the ruins has been turned into a bloody slaughterhouse.

The Tal'darim Protoss formations are locked in fierce combat with the surging tide of Zerg.

The Zealot wielded his psionic blade, each strike cleaving several Zerglings in two; the Immortal's particle-shattering cannon on its back cleared a space in the swarm with each shot.

However, the number of Zerg was simply too great, and a few Hydralisks had already broken through the defenses, spraying acid and bone spikes onto the Protoss's energy shield.

The Tal'darim formation is crumbling, and their shields are flickering under the corrosive effects of the acid.

The high-ranking Templars are still holding their ground, but their movements have become noticeably slower—phantom energy depletion has made these proud warriors stagger.

Suddenly, the swarm's attack became even more deadly.

Instead of charging blindly, the Zerglings split into three streams to flank the Protoss, while the Hydralisks focused their fire precisely on the Immortals whose shields were overloaded.

There is only one explanation for this tactical change—

"The Queen of Blades is commanding them," Leon's voice came through the communication channel.

The figure shrouded in purple psionic energy at the edge of the drone's view confirmed this.

Sarah Kerrigan, assimilated by the Zerg and transformed into the Queen of Blades, hovered above the battlefield, her long hair dancing like a living creature. With a mere wave of her hand, a new wave of Ultralisks burst forth from beneath the creep, tearing a gap in the Tal'darim's formation.

"The Protoss are finished," Tychus muttered, biting his cigar. "They can only hold out for another half hour at most."

He turned to Jim and said, "We should make our move while the bugs clean up the mess."

Jim stared at the purple figure on the screen, his Adam's apple bobbing: "Wait until the swarm completely crushes the Taldarim, then their attention will be most distracted."

The situation on the battlefield took a sharp turn for the worse.

The last Immortal was crushed by the Thunder Beast, and the High Templars stood back to back in their final resistance, as the Zerglings' claws and Hydralisks' bone spikes continuously drained their remaining psionic energy.

"Now!" Jim suddenly ordered. "Group A, you and I will hold off the Zerg swarm, while Group B will accompany our allies to seize the artifact!"

In the distant sky, Kerrigan seemed to sense something and suddenly turned to look in the direction where the rangers were lurking.
(End of this chapter)