AN: Forgive it if it's crap. Also, please review.

Note: Rated for language and violence/gore.

Disclaimer: In all of the chapters of this story I own none of the characters and nothing from StarCraft, but those that I make up I do own.

Chapter One – Making Plans, a Send-Off

First Lieutenant Chris Alexander rolled over in his bed as an alarm went off beside him. He sat up, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes. On the screen in front of him was the face of Marshall James Raynor. He looked grim, greeting Alexander with a grim "Morning, James."

Alexander grunted. "What is it?"

"We've arrived over Aiur. Get your squad together; meet me in the briefing room. Ten minutes. Bring your gear."

"Right. Thanks for details," Alexander grumbled, switching off the screen and collapsing back onto his bed, groaning. "Damn it. Damn it. Damn it."

Come on, Chris. You've trained for this day for years. You may not be from Char, or Aiur, or Mar Sara, or any of the dozens of worlds the Zerg have destroyed, but you hate the fucking bastards. You've been training as a commando for years, and with Raynor since he left Mar Sara. You can do this.

He rolled off his bed, struggling into a set of loose clothes, designed to be worn under a set of Marine armour, and walked out the door of his room, down the hall to the next one, opening it and rousing a man there from his deep sleep, one arm hanging off the bed. He opened one eye, letting Alexander know he was awake, making an unintelligible grunt.

"Tom, get the guys together. Get them in their gear; bring 'em to the briefing room. Raynor's got a mission for us."

Tomas Hendricks was First Sergeant of Able Squad, Second Platoon, Bravo Company of the 3rd Alliance Ground Division, one of the Terran divisions under Raynor. He sat up and looked at Alexander. "Really?"

"Yeah. We're at Aiur, man. Get dressed, suit up, meet me there."

With that Alexander turned and walked out the door, back down to his room, and opened the Titanium-Steel cabinet that held his armour. He pulled it out, stepping into the pants and closing them tightly around his waist, then pulling the torso on, locking it down onto the top of the pants and watching the armour-plating slide down to complete the protection of the suit. Pulling a headset from the cabinet, he put it on his head, then pulled the helmet out, sliding it onto the top of the torso, locking it into place and hearing the hiss as the plates slid down, protecting the weak joints at the neck.

He turned back into the cabinet, pulling out a set of two straps. One went around his waist hanging down at his right side, the other around his waist. On his right side was his sidearm. On the belt around his waist was all his gear: Night Vision, glow sticks, medical tools, everything. He reached back into the cabinet, pulling out his completely customized Gauss Rifle. He simply stood there for a moment, looking at himself in the reflection from a full-length mirror in the cabinet. Then he walked to the window, looking out the small viewport at the world of Aiur.

Aiur looked like it could have been beautiful once, green and lush, with vegetation and water, grasslands and wonderful places to see. However, now much of the surface of the planet was covered in the ominous purple of the Zerg Creep. The remains were blackened and smoking. However, from above it looked peaceful, as if the sides had reached a standstill. However, Alexander knew that wasn't true. They were simply so high up, looking down from the Hyperion, that they could see nothing.

Alexander sighed, walking out of the door of his room, hearing the small noises that a trained ear could pick up as he walked, the marine armour hissing and clanking. It was a serious downside to the protection provided by the armour that it hissed and clanked so much. Anyone could hear them coming miles away. Some people in his squad had tried to remove that noise, to be stealthy, and a few had succeeded, including Hendricks. Alexander had never gotten around to it, even working with PFC Frederick Black, the squad's technical specialist. But that was a topic for a different day. Now he was just worried about getting to the briefing.

-

Alexander arrived before everyone else, even Raynor, sitting down on one of the benches and looking at the screen lowered behind where Raynor would stand, allowing him to show them pictures or diagrams. The room was fairly large, allowing briefings of up to around 500 people, including the higher level. This was useful, because it allowed people to brief entire companies or command crews at once.

Raynor arrived next, walking in from a door beside the screen. He looked harried, black circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. Physical exhaustion was overcoming him, but he had to be awake because they had arrived at Aiur. He gave a weak, tired smile to Alexander, and watched as the rest of Alexander's squad filed in.

No more than twelve people in total, counting Alexander and Hendricks, the squad was a motley arrangement of men and women. They were good, no doubt about it, just a little random. But Raynor had no one better for this mission. "Howdy, boys," he muttered to them through a microphone as they came in. He could hear footsteps from the few of them not in Marine armour, and hisses, whirs and clanks from several of those with armour, just metallic footsteps from the rest. They were carrying a strange arrangement of weapons, everything from sniper rifles and machine guns to carbines.

They seated themselves, and Raynor started to talk, holding a controller in his hand and fiddling with it as he talked, using it to change a projector for pictures on the screen. "Good day, boys," he said into the mike, trying to sound normal although it was obvious he was dead on his feet. "We've arrived over Aiur, and the Protoss have helped us come up with a plan. The Zerg don't know we're here yet. That's our main idea. Now, you guys aren't going to like this mission, but it's important and I've got no-one better."

A smattering of short, half-hearted laughs went through a few of the squad as Raynor clicked the controller. The projector whirred, showing a picture of a battlecruiser.

Raynor continued. "This is the battlecruiser Victory. It was assigned on a mission to Aiur to scout out the planet, ahead of the main force, but to remain unseen. It's modified to contain a cloaking device and other stealth technology, and the crew is trained in the use of these and the art of avoiding being seen, even by Zerg. We assumed it would be okay. We were wrong."

"We arrived in orbit over Aiur to find the Victory dead in space, nothing powered on or anything, sitting there. It has responded to no hails or signals. We need to know what happened, so we're sending you guys over."

A series of groans went through the squad. Raynor glared at them. "This is an important mission. If this battlecruiser is operational and not under our control, it becomes a very dangerous wildcard, as it's the stealthiest ship we've got. If it turned against us it could cause a lot of damage while we didn't have defenses up, and then disappear and strike again when we don't expect it. We need you folks to investigate while the rest of the force begins the invasion of Aiur. I know you don't like it, but that's just the way it is."

He clicked the controller again, and the projector changed to a picture of a set of hangar doors. "These are the hangar doors of the Victory. We have the access codes, and we're going to send you in a dropship that will land in the hangar. You guys spread out across the ship. If you find anything, report back from the dropship and get further instructions. Your objective is to get to the bridge." He clicked the projector again, switching to show a view of a battlecruiser bridge. "And then you will power up the communications and contact the Hyperion. We'll give you instructions from there. Any questions?"

The room was silent for a moment, and then Corporal Harry "Slammer" Rakes raised his hand. "Sir, will we be rejoining the main assault force afterwards?"

Raynor responded fairly quickly. "Depending on what you find, yes or no. We may need you for another special assignment."

Rakes nodded. "Thanks."

The room was silent for about half a minute. Then Raynor sighed in relief. "Dismissed. Report to the hangar and Dropship T-067. Your pilot is Chief Warrant Officer Carrie Jules. She has the access codes for the hangar doors. Report to her and she'll tell you what to do."

The squad rose, picking up their assorted weaponry and equipment and walking off towards the hangar, grumbling about their mission. Investigating a drifting ship was something a Science Team would be able to handle better. Some Analysts, a couple Marines as an escort, it would be fine. But no, Raynor was sending in Special Forces. It was just stupid in their eyes.

They reached the hangar, introducing themselves to Jules. She introduced them to her co-pilot, Emmanuel "Emmy" Desra, and then they climbed in the back. "Ready to go," Jules told them, while Desra got clearance from the control to leave. It was granted, and they slowly flew out into the airlock. As the doors closed behind them and the space doors opened in front of them, the dropship flew out and turned towards the drifting battlecruiser off in the distance. Rakes turned to Alexander. "Hey, Chief, why're we going out here?"

"You heard the Marshall," Alexander replied, lying back against the bulkhead and closing his eyes. "We need to investigate the battlecruiser."

"Yeah, but a Science Team would do just as well," Rakes responded. "Why's he sending a dozen Spec Ops guys?"

"Why do you expect me to know, Harry?" Alexander replied. "I'm sure the Marshall has his reasons."

"Yeah, like keeping us out of combat?" William "Rat" Antekk asked. "Why does Raynor want us out of combat? Did we do something wrong when we went up against those Confederate survivors on the Alabama?"

"We did nothing wrong. Kyle got a special commendation for that mission," Alexander responded. Sergeant Kyle Sawyer, one of the men not in armour, grinned.

"That reminds me," PFC Terry O'Connell, another Spec Ops guy in no armour commented, "I never congratulated you for that, Kyle. Where's the medal?"

"Back in my bunk," Sawyer replied, "in my room. Safekeeping."

O'Connell nodded. "Well now you told me, I might as well take it."

"Good luck. It's got my name engraved in it," Sawyer replied.

"Two minutes ETA," Desra told them. "Cut the chatter and load your weapons, boys. You're almost there."

The squad was suddenly professional, locking and loading their weapons, checking they were okay. "Well, I guess this is it," Laura Day responded, checking the sights on her sniper rifle, then the large pistol she carried. She wore no armour, as it would just weigh her down. "Ready to go?"

Her partner, Sara Adams, nodded. She wasn't a sniper, but another Spec Ops, wearing no armour and carrying a carbine. "Ready to go."

"Headsets on," Alexander ordered. The squad reached up, flicking on their headsets. "Ready to go?" Alexander called.

"Ready to go," the squad confirmed.

"All right, boys, we're locked on the doors of the hangar, applying the access codes," Jules informed them. "Doors opening. Heading in."

The squad sat there in tense silence, holding their weapons on their laps as the dropship cruised into the hangar of the Victory.

AN: Blah. Forgive it if it sucks, but I'm tired and supposed to be doing homework. Until next chapter, bye. And review, please. And if you think I should change the rating up at any time, let me know.