My Little Zergling

Digger sighed as he made his way from the massive, pulsating building that was his master's primary Hive. It was a beautiful day for Char standards. Horrible monstrosities filled the sky. Hellish creatures scurried and slithered all about the living, veiny, and gak-like floor that was zerg creep, it stretching about for miles upon miles. All was right in the horrible hell hole that was Digger's world.  That was pretty much all Char was after all, one big ole' ball of creep and lava. And it wasn't looking like it was changing any time soon.

Though still, as evidenced by the look in the young zergling's eyes, even something that may have seemed 'right' didn't always mean it wasn't something that was boring the living crap out of him. Seriously. He didn't know how his master put up with it. There was absolutely nozerg around to make conversation with except for her evil, bitchy self.

Digger wouldn't be picky with it, either. He didn't need any deep conversation or even some funny character to keep him occupied. A simple conversation with any Zerg would have been fine.

'Man, the heat sure is horrible and skin blistering today, isn't it?'

’Indubitably, good Zerg. It really brings out the features of our disgusting, pulsating Hive Cluster, doesn't it?'

'Cheerio.'

'Hehe... indubitably,' Digger chuckled. 'I wish I could get a monocle and start wearing it around... maybe with a top hat, too. Oh man, I bet Kerry would get so pissed if I started talking like an upper-class stag!'

Trolling the Queen Bitch until the end; that was really his only goal in life. Because really, want to take a look at the minds of the nearby Zerg? The only thing that really went through them was this:

'Awaiting orders... awaiting orders... awaiting orders...'

And that was literally it. The only other thing he could hear was his master bitching at them or 'For the Hive!', 'Ack Ack!', or the occasional 'Raaaaauggggghhhhh...' Even the infested Terrans seemed to only have about five to six things to ‘say’.

'Ready to serve!'

'For the hive!'

'Ready to chill out!'

'Sacrifice me!'

Bunch of damned communists. For real, why couldn't Kerrigan give them intelligence? Would that be too much for her to handle? All those thoughts questioning their single-minded goal to kill and assimilate?

Meh, probably.

God damned control freak.

However, there was one other mind he could hear, though come to think of it, he'd rather just listen to static chatter. At least that was amusing for about five minutes. However, this mind was a whole different ball game. A ball game where foul balls would smash into your face every five seconds. Usually, it went something like this:

'Gotta douche fast!

Gotta douche fast!

Gotta douche faster faster faster-faster-faster!

Douching at the speed of sound,

Biggest douchebag around,

Got ourself a situation...'

And you get the picture. Though alright, maybe that wasn't really what went through his mind, but it might as well have been. You see, there was one being on Char Digger hated more than the Queen of Blades. His name was 'H-Dawg the Hunter Killer', and he was a huge douchebag, and naturally, one who just happened to be slithering towards Digger right now.

'Yo little Digglet. How's it hangin', chief?' he heard him 'say', that meaning he heard a thought directed at him.

His massive form then came into sight. He was a monstrous being: a hydralisk nearly five times his size, with massive scythe-like arms that could likely rip a fully-suited marine in half with one swing. To make matters worse, they seemed to be attached to what might as well have been a body made of scales and muscle.

One that could shoot poison venom spines up to twenty meters away.

Yep. Bottom line: you'd probably be better off playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded revolver than fucking with a Hunter Killer.

'Er... hi H-Dawg. How's it goin?' Digger asked politely.

'Not bad, hombre, just got done killin' another Terran scouting party,' he said... with this fucking shit-eating, condescending smirk on his face that made Digger want to hop into a nearby pool of lava. 'Hahaha! Oh man, you should have seen the look on their commander's face when I ripped his fucking head off. He looked like such a bitch!'

Yep, what he got in bulk he lost in brains. That was really his only weakness. A big, glaring weakness almost as large as his ego.

'Yes, because I'm sure looking stoic is the first thing on someone's mind when they're about to die,' Digger snarked under his 'breath.'

'What was that, chief?' H-Dawg grunted, slithering towards him with a menacing look on his face. 'You aint' bein' smart with me, right? Cus you know, I heard you pussied out again today!'

'Screw off, dude. I was *made** to be a pacifist,'* Digger growled.

H-Dawg gave a glare. 'Pffft, yeah right. That's just an excuse. You're just a big chicken, that's why. Don't want to get your talons bloody.'

Digger took a deep breath at that. 'Yeah, you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am scared to end entire existences just because some voice in my head is telling me to. And you know what's funny? From what I hear about Terrans, when *they** have a  voices in their heads telling them to kill people it usually means they’re insane.’*

'Better watch that attitude of yours when you're around me, chief. Our master can always make another one of you,' H-Dawg snapped, prodding a nervous Digger with one of his claws. Though it wasn’t long before his shit-eating grin came back upon his face. 'But yeah. Aren't you wondering why I've stopped by?'

'More like wondering when you were going to leave...' Digger muttered.

The hydralisk prodded him again. 'Huh? You being smart again, chief?'

Ugh! And why did he always call him chief!? He wasn't leader of any tribe! Digger didn't find himself to be a condescending zergling, either... well... only if somezerg was being condescending to him first, that was.

'Er, I mean, I was just wondering... when I get to leave!" Digger forced out. 'I just got this new mission and everything to a whole new planet!'

'You mean when do *we** leave,'* H-Dawg grinned.

Digger's eyes widened in horror.

Oh no. Oh god no. NONONONONO!

H-Dawg nodded again. 'That's right! We're takin' the same Behemoth to that gay little pony planet!'

Righto. It was time to make a break for it. Though still, he had to decide which way to end it. A lava pool would be nice... though it could be kind of a painful death. Or maybe he could just troll H-Dawg until he decided to slice him in half. The best case scenario is he could take the prick's ego with him....

'Though naturally, the Queen of Blades gave me the cooler mission,' H-Dawg thought, smirking. 'You see, I'm not taking out some pansy changeling queen. I'm taking down the REAL heavy hitter of their planet!'

'Huh? Digger said, raising an eyebrow.

'Princess. Friggin'. Celestia,' he said boastfully, his grin widening. ’The leader of the most powerful nation on their planet.'

Digger raised his eyebrows. 'How the hell do you think you're going to do that? You'll get-‘

He paused, noticing H-Dawg had suddenly vanished.

'Uh… hey, where did you go?'

Did he scurry off somewhere? At that thought, Digger smiled in glee. Thank all that was holy-

'Pffffft! Hahahaha' a voice rang out of nowhere, H-Dawg suddenly reappearing right in front of him as Digger’s hope was shattered. 'Sometimes I don't think you're as smart as you think you are, you know. But that's alright, I didn't think you'd know about my camouflage ability. It's saved only for the top killers amongst our bitchin' little swarm,' he said smugly.

Please get killed. Please get killed. Please get killed...

'Errr... congratulations?' Digger said, shrugging.

He honestly didn't know why anyzerg would be happy about having to take down a priority target like that. It'd almost most certainly end in death, and considering H-Dawg was put on the task, his survival rating would probably be around the same as a spider in a fumigation spray factory staffed with arachnophobes.

In fact, he almost started feeling bad for H-Dawg, until:

'But that's alright, little Diglet. Cus when I finish with Princess Celestia, that's when the fun really begins! Whole-sale slaughter, baby! We'll be cutting through the pussy little ponies like a talon through butter! My rofl scythe goes slice slice slice slice slice slice-'

Oh good god. They were just innocent little ponies! Granted, he didn't know much about them yet. They could all be assholes for all he knew. But that just seemed... off. At least a lot of the Terrans he knew were assholes, if what his master was always saying was to be believed. The squad he had spared today being an exception. And even so, it wasn't his role to decide whether they deserved to be slaughtered with glee for that. And as for the Protoss... well, luckily, he had never encountered one of them before. He heard it usually ended with a lot of decapitations and zerg rushes turning into zerg skull piles.

Though still, he had to admit, at least they wouldn't be slaughtering all of the ponies, as H-Dawg seemed to think they would be. They'd be infesting them. And to be perfectly honest, so far, sentience didn't seem to be all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe they'd be better off in the swarm. For all he knew, maybe the Queen of Blades actually had the best intentions in mind for the Koprulu sector and knitted stockings on her free time. He couldn’t say anything for sure.

Ugh, so many philosophical conundrums, so little time... And honestly, Digger questioned whether he was given the brain power to be able to truly decide what was right or wrong. He mainly just went off instinct most of the time.

'So uh... do you know when we're leaving?' he asked, snapping himself out of his deep thinking.

'Hope you got your panties packed, chief! Cus the answer to that is right now!' the hydralisk beamed.

And suddenly, to Digger's widening eyes, from the below the tall cliff he was standing on roared the massive form of a Behemoth, it slowly rising into view. They were massive creatures, really, resembling praying mantis' to a degree, triangular in shape. However, unlike the tiny creatures of the Terran homeworld, these bastards could carry legions upon legions of Zerg to whatever worlds Kerrigan needed assimilated in order to make her feel better about herself.

Well, that's what Digger liked to think was her motivation. In the end, it was probably a ton more complex... but still bitchy. But anyway, he had to admit... the way the Behemoth had risen into view like that...

'Alright, that was pretty cool,' he admitted, before taking a deep deep breath, and turning back to a smirking H-Dawg. 'Well uh... let's go assimilate some ponies, shall we?'

'Pffft, the Queen of Blades can do the assimilating. I'll be doin' the skull-bashing. I wonder how many ponies I can kill on my lonesome before the invasion force lands!'

Digger gave a soft little moan to himself.

He hoped to god that H-Dawg would be sleeping the whole way. But he had to wonder: why were they going on such a big transport? A simple overlord probably would have sufficed.

That was until he climbed aboard, however... a thousand different voices filling his mind until he had the nerve to shut off its ability to hear them.

Yep, there were tens of thousands of Zerg already on it. It was likely that as soon as he carried out his mission, the invasion would commence immediately. This sent a strange mix of both a shiver and a sense of cooling relief through him. At least he wouldn't have to wait around feeling guilty for too long after taking out his target...

At that, H-Dawg and Digger then settled into two of the thousands of little holes on the living transport, ones that quickly sealed themselves shut. And soon after, they were making their way from Char and towards the Sara system.

☼☼☼

1.5 Light Years From Sara

Near-Interstellar Space

In the cockpit of a single, yellow long fighter craft sat a lone, dark-blue Protoss, her mind fixated on a number of readings her ship was sending her. Like most of her kin, the Dark Templar, she wore what could best be described as rags for clothing, something she didn't mind in the least. It was symbolic, reminding him that for the longest time, her people were those living on the edge, without the petty comforts the Protoss of the Conclave always seemed to 'need'. Besides, why wear fancy battle armor anyway when you could kill things from the shadows, and in comfortable freedom to boot!

Still though, despite the 'relaxing' nature of her mission, she would much rather be back on her homeworld of Shakurus, even if it was currently befallen with a massive amount of strife due to the reunification. At least it'd stop her from being so damned bored all the time. Really, the only things she had to do were:

1. Study and keep track of the anomaly sitting before his ship. A swirling vortex of light: a wormhole apparently leading to a most unusual pocket dimension.

And:

1. Relay intercepted transmissions from nearby Terran worlds to Shakurus if they contained interesting information.

Though still, the second job did give her a fun opportunity to gain a bit of cultural knowledge about the humans. And her favorite program to study Terran culture with would begin right about-

"En Taro Adun, Disciple Marion!" a voice suddenly filled her mind, his face appearing in it as well thanks to a neural-interface device her ship had.

Just the transmission she was totally not hoping for.

"Arent we saying En Taro Tassadar now?” she grumbled. ”Or is that just a thing everyone's doing because everyone else is doing it?"

The Protoss before her gave a blank look. "You speak as if you were a Terran. And as they would say, 'why do your protective under-garments appear to be discomforting you?'"

"Er, it's 'why are your panties in a bunch,'” she sighed. “But yeah, sorry... I'm just bored out of my skull is all."

The Praetor raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You're not mal-tempered because I am interrupting your viewing of that strange Terran television broadcast again, are you?"

"I told you, I was flipping through channels trying to find their news network!” she huffed. "And it just happened to be the one that uh... stuck online when you phoned. Yep."

"You have been lacking in contact with nothing other than Terran entertainment for too long," the Praetor grunted. "The next thing I know you'll be speaking in one of their ridiculous accents!"

"We'll, I ain't nothin' but a country girl at heart, ya hear lil' doggy?" Marion 'smirked' cheekily.

The Praetor rolled his eyes. "Well, if that's how you feel, perhaps I will extend your mission for another few cycle-"

"No!" Marion suddenly shouted. "Please... I'm sorry. I was just... as the humans say, 'messing around with you."

The Praetor actually gave an amused chuckle. "I believe that makes two of us. I would not keep you from your homeworld much longer, no matter how much ‘snark’ you feel fit to throw at me. Your replacement shall arrive within one cycle."

Marion couldn't be more relieved if she tried. "If I had lips, I'd kiss you, Praetor."

"Human intimacy... such a strange practice," the Preator 'smirked.' "Though an intriguing one, I suppose." He then brought two fingers to his chin, a thoughtful look coming upon him. “You know, I once learned from a Terran scientist that when two humans make lip contact, they actually exchange pheromones that allows them to tell if they are compatible or not. Interesting, isn’t it?"

At that point, Marion had slumped her cheek against a fist, pretending to be asleep, complete with an overly-loud, mock snoring sound. "Huh- wah?" she said, blinking her eyes open. "Sorry, must have dozed off..."

"Ugh... you young Templars have the attention spans of infants! In my day, we paid our commanders more heed!" the Praetor cried, though with a slightly amused expression on him. "However, you must keep diligent. The wormhole must be monitored until your replacement arrives. The High Council is eager to know if the Zerg will attempt to try anything with this... pocket dimension, until we can figure out how to close the gateway to it."

Marion gave a nod. "Right. I'll keep an eye on it. Though please call back soon, I need someone to talk to or I'm going to lose my mind out here."

The Preator nodded back at her, 'smiling'. "I shall. En Taro Tassadar!"

"En Taro Tassadar," Marion stated respectfully.

The virewscreen then flickered off, elation slowly filling Marion to the breaching point.

"Yeeeeeeees. I thought he'd never stop talking!"

Another 'viewsceen' flickered on in her mind, a theme song soon joining it that turned her mood around one-eighty degrees.

"Jump around!

Rock out!

With Littlest Pet Shop,

Scream and Shout!"

"Yay!" she beamed to herself, clapping her three-fingered hands gingerly, before oozing, "Littlest Pet Shop is sooo the best Terran show!"

"Warning! Contact in range!" a cold, robotic, computer like voice suddenly shouted in her head.

"Huh?" she said, lifting an eyebrow and reluctantly flickering off her show.

As she gave a grunt, her mind then left the ship, almost as if she were having an out-of-body experience. However, there were no stars to be seen, nor anything besides a crudely-drawn, wire-frame like entity that was her own vessel as well as the worm hole. For she wasn’t really astral projecting herself, it was simply the ship’s neural interface device allowing her to directly tap into the ship's sensors, to 'see' what they were seeing.

And what she saw made her want to gulp.

What would be undetected by all sensors except for those her Scout-class ship’s soon came into view: a Terran stealth frigate, its bulky form flying precariously close to her own vessel... though luckily, not on a direct intercept path with it or the worm hole.

A curious look coming upon her, she quickly made her mind open for a moment, allowing her to be able to hear the thoughts of the Terrans aboard.

'Stenson! Get your head out of your ass! You can't use those mags in a Type-3 assault rifle, man!'

'Oh come on! This will totally work! I just gosta do a little...

There was a beat of silence.

'Ah shit.'

’What?’

’Errr…. I think I’m going to need another gun…’

'Bloody hell, lad! That's three in one day! But by all means, go ahead and break all our guns before we reach Chau Sara! We'll just throw rocks at the god damned rebels!'

Marion sighed in relief. The Terrans were Dominion, yes, a governmental body the Protoss would rather do without contact with. But at least she wouldn't need to deal with them either...

Yet.

"Warning! Contact within range!"

"Yes, I know, computer..." Marion grumbled.

"Second* contact in range!"* her computer barked. And for a brief second, Marion wondered if it had somehow developed sentience and was being a smartass.

However, soon, bigger things would be on her mind, as the Terrans would happily provide.

'Woah! Holy shit! A zerg ship?! What the fuck is a zerg ship doing out here!?'

'Keep it cool, man... this frigate can take a lone one.... I think.'

’God damnit. If we get into a space battle… I hate fucking space battles. I can’t do jack shit during one!’

'A zerg ship? Wah?' Marion said, closing her mind to the Terrans' increasingly panicked chatter. "Computer. Identify second contact."

"Identification Confirmed: Zerg Behemoth."

At that, Marion's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, fiddlesticks..."