Disclaimer: The usual yadda yadda. These marines were created by me for this one, non-profit piece but marines, Jim Raynor, Edmund Duke and the Starcraft universe in general were created and are owned by Blizzard Entertainment.
Additional notes: Set during the Wasteland mission, inspired by the Wasteland Patrol cutscene, both from the original Starcraft.
T is for Stimpacks
"Oh man, wouldn't it be much easier without all this alien garbage running around the place?" a man asked his brother in arms, in the chill of the night.
He was a marine of the Terran Confederacy. In fact, they both were. And, truth be told, the garbage certainly was running amok these days, Zerg attacks being reported left and right, causing a feeling of unrest and anxiety in the colonists' hearts. The place he talked about wasn't the space colonial dream anymore; the escorting task they had been given was proof of it. "Evacuate all civilians to Mar Sara's outer wastelands" general Duke had said. No other official command ever pleased people less, but an order was an order.
"Yup. And a hell lot more boring too" the other replied, laughing at his own wittiness but suddenly stopping to cough up some smoke. He clumsily wiped the tears off his watery eyes, not helped by the bulky helm and armour, proceeding to put the cigarette back in his mouth. Silence was made, until:
"Jimmy..." the other started, stopping in his tracks, looking important and scanning the surroundings with his eyes.
The diminutive did not, in any way, fit the toughened war veteran, nor did he like it, a feeling which he let be known with a low, deep sigh.
"Uh. What is it?" the buff marine inquired, now halting his movement as well, looking alert.
"I had told you to quit that lung cancer deal already" the first man replied, taking the cue to be the one laughing.
"I've got no dam' idea how I put up with you" Jimmy bitterly remarked, annoyed at how he seriously considered that his fellow space warrior had seen something. The constant nagging the terran suffered from his companion about smoking wasn't exactly appreciated either.
"Move that ass now, Timmy" Jim said, placing a needlessly over the top emphasis on the last word. And move they did, scouting Mar Sara's ground ahead of the evacuation convoy in order to detect possible ambushes. The job needed to be done, but the few groups of men on it, especially Mr Timothy, weren't all that thrilled about being used as Zerg detecting live bait.
Eager as they were to get this done the marines continued. Nevertheless, some more steps on the heat hardened ground, and Tim ceased movement for a second time that night.
"Come on, move that gear up, you lazy bastard" Jim said, in what he hoped was a motivating tone. Still, the other gave no sign of having listened. "What now?" Jim sighed when his blood started to boil.
"Zerg, nine o' clock" was all Tim swiftly gave at him for an answer, but it was enough.
Had they been any less trained and a shiver down their spines would be the first feeling they got. Instead each drew his riffle, Jim throwing a quick glance to his right in an attempt to see if his sharp eyes could detect any oversized insect, albeit failing to do so, before getting back to back, both firearms aimed in opposite directions.
Some rattling, crawling and the occasional slurp was all that the Swarm forces would let the humans hear during the next minutes and, despite the nerve-wracking sounds hailing in from everywhere around and below them, no movement took place. Not the kind that could be seen by the marines anyhow.
"We're near the randeev-, randei-, rendevoi-... the meeting point" Tim declared, a drop of sweat rolling down his face. "We should get going."
Jim took his time to think the plan through but, seeing as staying there would do no good, he nodded. Still with their backs locked on eachother's, they slowly began to make their way towards the location set by the Marshall in charge of the escort, from where they and the other scouting groups would head back to the convoy.
The air went dead silent after some steps and, taking his chances, Tim reached for the radio, hoping to do what he was deployed for. The other realised what was going in Timmy's mind gand stopped, waiting to cover him if needed during the transmission. Getting down, he sent an urgency signal to the Marshall's vehicle in the escort fleet, only having to wait through a second of static for a response.
Clattering was heard around the couple of armed men and Jim started mumbling to himself, but the first marine resumed his task.
"Raynor here, send your traffic scouting group number two".
"Hostiles sited at your North, proce-"
"To the Northwest" Jim corrected, still mumbling. What he was saying, however, was clear, now that Tim had payed attention to what came from the other's mouth. He was counting the Zerg around them. All around them.
Before any other action could be taken, a shriek ripped through the air, a single zergling charged the kneeling one to keep information from getting out. Such a carried out thought would indicate that the zergling was not alone, planning his action with others through the hive mind. That said, what mattered for the moment was that the beast fell to the ground after a full clip had been unloaded upon it.
"Gimme that" the war veteran barked, already after ripping the device out off Tim's hands, who would probably lead them to a painful death at that rate. His effort was commendable but not enough and that was getting into Jim's nerves.
"Private James Newt here. Four 'lings, one down, and a hydralisk to your Northwest, proceed with caution. Over!".
"Roger that. Retreat to the rendezvous point while covering your backs with caution. The remaining patrols will be warned of your situation. Over."
"Wilco. Over an-" Jim could not finish, interrupted by his own companion, for the Zerg had made their move.
Their fingers grasped the trusty weapons and their legs caved into the ground, as it was the time for them to charge back at the Zerg, in an attempt to escape the circle of alien insects that closed in on them. With a "Hyaaaa!" that good ol' Jimmy shouted at the top of his lungs they threw themselves at the Zerg, who didn't let the sudden burst from their enemies take them by surprise.
"Get those stimpacks ready" Tim muttered through his teeth, whilst probing through the equipment he carried for his own.
Moving together, like an unstoppable force fueled by the just administrated adrenaline, the zergling which stood in their way was little more than a mess of blood and flesh, after being literally ripped apart.
"Not ev'n his uhgly ass mahther is gonna reco'nise him after that" Jim yelled after looking back, laughing with eyes of a maniac.
"It's got a mother?"
"Them beasts gotta spawn from somewhere" he replied, trying to erradicate the mental image of whatever the zergling's mother might look like from his head.
As the synthetic chemical wore off, yet another pursuing zergling was killed, but not before taking its toll. Tim's leg started to protest increasingly louder from the deep laceration. What seemed like a perfectly feasible idea instants before now looked like a death sentence, as a zergling and hydralisk were heard louder by the second, in the bone chilling night, quickly covering the distance granted to the terrans by the stimpacks' boost.
"H-hey!" said Timmy in a desperately anxious voice "Isn't that the randeivois point thing?"
"Yeah... sure is. But why is it deserted?"
The last words spoken by the oversized man next to him made Timmy pale. They had waited all that time back there, when the Zerg first made themselves noticed. Surely someone would have gotten there already.
Looking for an answer tens of meters ahead, in the rendevous location, both men rose their heads up to the heavens when a wooshing sound was heard. A floating blob of blighted flesh flew above them. Clearly in position to indicate the terrans' whereabouts to the couple of remaining Zerg, the overlord was met with human fire.
The wound grew larger with the strain, and the pain overridden marine fell. Detecting Tim on the ground, trying to recover while Jim drove the overlord away, the Swarm's patrol survivors moved in from the back, hissing with anticipation for blood.
"JIIIIM!" was all he could say, trying to warn his comrade, but the aliens were too close.
As soon as Jim looked back, covered in sweat and panting from the battle, all he had time to see was the zergling raise his bony appendixes, and... be struck with a jet of fire? The now disformed creature hit a rocky formation, blasted away with the force of the firebat's strike. The hydralisk, as surprised by the reinforcements as Jim, now turned against the firebat, only to be shot in the back by a fourth terran.
Jimmy, beaming with joy but still cautious, would hastely question their saviors, were it not for them anticipating his words.
"Scouting squad number three. We were informed by Marshall Raynor, through the Commander, about your distressed call" the firebat announced in a muffled voice, although no other voice ever sounded better to Jim.
"Comin' here wasn't such a bad idea, uh Timmy?" he said, searching for his friend, mocking him with his diminutive twice now "... Timmy?"
Last comments: It was my very first attempt at fan fiction (and prose in general, to be honest), although not at writting. As such, I'd appreciate some feedback, especially on aspects like pace and vocabulary. Do keep in mind that, while fluent in it, English is not my native language.
Additionally, if you see this at deviantART, under the same username, it's me there, not a sneaky thief.
On a last note, I'd like to thank V and Jo (who shall remain anonymous) for beta reading.