Acid Burns

One hour before high noon, Illyana Jorres closed down her security monitors. She'd
finished her remote sweep of the biosphere outposts twenty minutes ago, ahead of
schedule, and all was normal. As it should be — Garxxax was a tiny planet in a tiny system,
on the edge of terran space and far removed from the hustle and bustle of Dominion life,
with no indigenous intelligences above forest vermin.
But that was what she'd requested when she'd joined the company. She'd seen
enough action in the war, more than enough for any marine. With no other marketable
skills, she had gone into freelance security and wound up here. A planet where the
humidity made a trip through the mountainous rainforest unbearable without a coolsuit,
and even the oceans that covered most of the globe were hot as an evening shower.
But there was no action, no excitement. Just her, ten scientists, and the heat. It suited
Illyana just fine.
* * *
The behemoth groaned, shifting its great mass to ease the pain of battle-born wounds.
The protoss fleet had caught it unawares, drifting through space on the sector edge, and the
behemoth had paid the price. Now its life was draining, even though the battle was over. Its
own life was unimportant, but it carried thousands of other zerg within its cavernous
membranes, and they too were in danger if it perished. Moving through space was its natural
state, but the act was not without exertion. The old behemoth needed time to recover, to
regain energy. It could not do that in the vacuum of space.
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