The Terran Crusades: Prologue
March 7, 2371
Terran Republican Guard HQ.
Port Jesent, New Louis
1359 hrs.
Field Marshal Senor Senior Sr. wearily nodded his head at the faintly glowing hologram, which dominated his command center's communications room. Technicians, troops and officers glanced at each other nervously, as they digested the unwelcome news.
"I understand Admiral Director. I'm sure you did all you could." The old man sighed sadly. The weight of his years seemed to double with the new added pressure. Behind him, his aid and only son, Captain Senor Senior Jr. shifted his weight from foot to foot as he nervously glanced around the command room.
"We did everything we could to hold them off, but they out numbered us three-to-one." The brown haired, one-eyed, middle aged woman explained. "We lost the dreadnaughts Ben Nevis, her sister ship the Slieve Donard, the carrier Volga, as well as several cruisers and frigatesin the opening salvos. Before we could reorganize the line, PAC transports were already making a beeline for the surface."
The Field Marshal ran his hand through his iron grey hair, just what he needed. Not more then three days ago, he had the PAC on the run back to their last remaining space-port in the city of Haket. There, the crafty Field Marshal had planned to unleash his invasion force of three-million men, upon the cowering heathens and wash the planet of New Louis of their taint.
No one could exactly say why the Protectorate Armed Corps and the Terran Republican Guard were fighting over New Louis. Though the planet was lush and green, the high gravity was almost twice that of Terra's, the high oxygen level caused frequent and explosive lightning storms, (not to mention the abnormally large insects, some as large as a small dog,) its low population (barley over six million) and little resources made this planet virtually worthless, from a resource driven point of view. While its remoteness from Vanguard and the key members of the Outer Colonial Protectorate, made it useless strategically.
What had started as a small engagement between two small fleets, a small invasion force and an even smaller garrison, had turned into a bloody struggle not seen since the Battle of Keelix Prime at the beginning of Terra's Crusade. The battle had become so valuable for propaganda that the Guard Command dispatched its greatest Commanders and its most advanced fleet to capture a planet, that one Admiral described as being "even more worthless then shit scrapped of a boot."
"I'm sorry, Senior. But the 8th fleet must withdraw to friendly space to reorganize and reinforce our numbers." Admiral Director shook her head in wonder, "we underestimated the heathens. Who could have known that they had that many ships tucked away for a rainy day?"
The Field Marshal nodded his head in agreement. "I know what you mean; they have proven to be quite the elusive foe. The 12th Expeditionary Force out numbered them almost four-to-one, yet they have held for such an amount time-"
"I'm sorry Senior, but we'll have to break communications, we're about to enter slip space." The Admiral closed her good eye, "by the Spirit of Man, Senior, I swear, we will return for you."
"I know you will, my dear Admiral, I know you will."
With that the hologram flickered and vanished. With a heavy sigh, the Field Marshal adjusted his dark brown uniform. Turning around, he watched silently as his troops rushed about returning to their duties.
"Captain, inform Colonel Shego, and Lieutenant Possible that I wish to speak with them in the map room immediately."
The Captain, a physically large and muscular man, nodded and snapped a salute, with that Junior tore out of the circular room and into the hall, his heavy combat boots striking the floor with heavy thumps.
He, who seeks to defends everything, defends nothing. Senior thought to himself, quoting Sun-Tzu. I cannot defend all of my gains, I will have to concentrate on the ports, and let the heathens take the rest. But they will pay for it, by the Spirit of Man, and Terra's Ground, they will pay.
March 7th, 2371
376th PAC Battalion, HQ
20 kilometres of City of Haket, New Louis
1424 hrs.
Captain Steven Barkin, commanding officer Charlie Company could hardly believe the news that came from the Lt. Colonel. After reinforcing New Louis the first time, before the Terran Republics set up their blockade, PAC command had decided that New Louis was indefensible, and lost. Ordering the PAC garrison and their reinforcements to withdraw, they discovered a Terran fleet in orbit of New Louis preventing the evacuation ships, from leaving.
To the common soldier it almost felt like the OCP, had abandoned almost a million men and had left them to their fate. But they had held on, and for close to a year fought what seemed an unending tide of Republic troops. Barkin had watched in dismay as one by one their strongholds fell, as the brave men and women of the PAC fell back to the only space port under their control, at Haket.
At Haket the men had prepared to make their final stand, when the news came through, not more then an hour ago. Fleet Admiral Sheldon "Gemini" Director, led not one, but two fleets against the Terran one holding orbit, and took them completely by surprises. Destroying a dozen ships in the first salvos, it was not long before the Terrans disengaged, and abandoned the planets orbit. Transports arrived and fresh troops, equipment and supplies where flown in.
Barkin could literally feel the moral of the men under his command soar to heights not known since the beginning of this war almost thirty-five years ago. Sitting on top of the hill with several of his most trusted men, he could see why.
Hundreds of troops, dressed in the dark green, full bodied armour of the PAC, moved through New Louis second largest city, while talon shaped, transports continued to arrive with yet more. Large, tri-barreled Trident tanks rolled down ramps and moved out towards their staging areas, while the green clad men followed behind them, clutching their long, bulky STAR Industries Dragoon Assault carbines.
"Ain't it a beautiful sight there sir?" Sergeant Felix Renton spoke up breaking the long silence.
"Sure is, Renton, sure is. All that green and heavy weapons. It's enough, to make old soldiers cry." Barkin replied with a wicked grin. "at least that's what those Terries will be doing when we roll up on their door step, right Mad Dogs!?"
"WROOF, WROOF, AHROOOOO!" Came the proud response of the Charlie Company "Mad Dogs"
They again turned back to watching the unloading of troops, some of them laughing quietly at the new reinforcements, as they struggled against the high gravity. The soldiers from the 376th battalion of the 3rd Frontier Division were use to it by now, having spent the last year fighting, marching, and sleeping in it.
"WHOA! Look over there!" Barkin turned to see what the pointing soldier had spotted. What he saw took his breath away.
Laying on two large beds of treads, was the largest self-propelled rocket launcher produced, the SY4 Mjolnir. The Mjolnir dwarfed the Trident tanks, standing three times as high, and twice as wide. Over four dozen launcher pads, containing four individual seven metre long AE9 "Reaper" rockets, practically ensured total destruction of what ever it fired at.
"Lookie there boys!" Barkin exclaimed pointing at the behemoth, "There's our ticket into Terrie held ground, and our door knocker into Port Jensen."
The men laughed at that, and continued to watch as the vehicle joined an armoured column moving north east.
Barkin's thoughts again turned to the previous year, as he watched the Mjolnir disappear over the ridge. How he and his men survived, he doubt that he would ever know. Some under his command turned to their superstitions, as Barkin called them, for the answers, saying it was God's, or Allah's or some other make believe deity that they survived. Others, like himself, did not believe in any of that nonsense. If they survived it was due to their own skills, instincts and toughness, as well as a healthy dose of luck. Unfortunately, his and his family's lack of any belief had forced themselves to flee into the outer colonies, during what was dubbed "The Awakening" forty years ago.
"The Awakening" was what the Terrahumanists called the bloody period. The heathens, those who didn't bow before it, as the Terrahumanists called them, simply called it the Time of Sorrow. It was during this time that the Terrahumanists conducted their first purification.
In 2329 violence caused by Terrahumanists groups was at an all time high. Churches, Synagogues, Temples and Mosques, were attacked, vandalized, sometimes burned to the ground with practitioners still inside them. In response to these crimes Pope John Paul IV stood before the world and condemned Terrahumanism, calling it a "violent cult, seeking to destroy God, and his children." Those who didn't practice expected a large public out cry from the Terrahumanists.
What they received instead was something most disturbing. A large mob, outraged by the Pope's blasphemous words attacked and sacked the Vatican. In the middle of St. Peter's Square, a large bonfire, created from priceless holy relics burned brightly as the Pope, his secretaries, and several Abbesses and Cardinals were dragged out of the Church, and brought before the fire. The Pope begged the mob to release those they had captured, willing to sacrifice himself for those in his company, but the angry crowd would have none of it. First the nuns, then the secretaries, and the Cardinals were thrown into the fire one by one until finale the Pope was tossed in by those who were once apart of his flock.
The violence however, was only just beginning. Across Earth, now renamed Terra, and the Inner Colonies, thousands were brutally murdered for their belief in the "false deities". Even the atheists were not safe; the mobs ruled that their lack of belief was just as corrupting to Terra and the Spirit of Man as the heathen deities. Those who practiced were turned over to the mobs. Children turned in their parents, brothers and sisters turned in their siblings, lovers and spouses turned over their husbands and wives.
However millions escaped into the far flung colonies of the Outer planets. Barkin remembered as a teenager escaping in the crowded ship, with barley enough food and water to make the difficult journey. The Outer Colonies presented a safe haven for the refugees. The spread of Terrahumanism was almost nonexistent due to the colonials having few ties to Earth. The influx of the refugees caused the Outer planets to band together. With Vanguard leading the way, the Outer Colonial Protectorate was formed.
"Barkin-sama? I have new dispatches for you."
Lieutenant Yori Soruchi's calm voice cut through her captain's dismal thoughts, and snapped him back to reality.
The men, who had been staring off into the city, took sudden interest, as Barkin took hold of the offered data-pad. Slowly the career soldier's dark brown eyes flickered over the info. The nine soldiers watched in fascination as their captain's eyes slowly, and a heavy, sad sigh escaped his mouth. For several seconds all was quite.
"Uhhhh, sir what did the dispatch say?" Renton's voice broke the fragile silence.
Barkin's eyes opened slowly, he stared at Renton for a minute, making the younger man shuffle uncomfortably, in his unflinching gaze.
"The 377th was wiped out in an attack just a few hours ago; as such the battalion is moving out to engage the 377th killers." Gasps greeted Barkin's grim news. He waited a moment to allow the situation to sink in, before continuing. "The few survivors of the attack are being folded into our unit, including an old friend of yours Renton."
The thirty-five year old Sergeant looked confusingly up at his superior. He didn't know anyone in the 377th.
"Who?"
Barkin smiled sadly as he told Renton the name. "Sergeant Major Ronald Stoppable."
Well I'm sorry to my Brood War fans but I was viscously attacked by the plot bunnies and this was implanted into my brain. So enjoy and leave a review.