I know its shitty. But it was a spur of the moment thing, so what the hell.

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Volcanic flames bleached high into the air of Char, showering ash and fiery shards of molten rock around them. The flames, however, seemed tiny and insignificant in intensity to the firefight raging among them.

Corporal John Ryan, United Earth Directorate Marine Corps, cowered behind a rock as screaming siege tank shells slammed home into the Zerg hive front of him, explosions rocking his world, sending up dirt in sprays into the faces of him and his men. The UED had begun their invasion of Char, and he was part of the assault on one of Chars' three primary hive clusters. Ryan and his squad was the mop up unit, tasked with finishing off the renemants of the artillery strike.

Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of a carcass whizzing past, the handiwork of a particularly accurate gunner. The fury of the attack had literally smashed the outer hive, devastating the defense of the base and sending the shocked survivors scurrying into the core of the hive for shelter. The remaining Zerg themselves were being driven into the heart of the hive, a shrieking, panicked mass of flesh and claws, killing, feeding and mating with each other as the relentless pounding hammered them back into the interior of their hive. The sight sickened him, to witness such sheer animal terror. The noise and smell was overwhelming. Ryan had to swallow hard to prevent himself from retching.

He could not, however, afford to let his men to see such weakness. The marines he commanded were hard, brutal men, many ex-convicts or antisocials rejected by society, and they despised weakness with such intensity that it terrified Ryan. A MIT under-graduate in his second year, he had been pulled out of the prestigious institution to join the Koprulu Task Force, who were at that time, recruiting every able-bodied man, woman or child they could get their hands on. Soft and mild-mannered, he found it harder than his comrades to slug it out in the trenches.

Ryan's reminiscing was interrupted as a wraith roared overhead, hugging the ground to avoid Zerg anti-aircraft fire. It delivered its deadly payload in its own bizarrely executed dance of death, AG rockets streaking out of sleek, dangerous pods hanging of its stubby wings.    

Finally, the artillery barrage began to falter, and the order came in to move out. Ryan stood up and signaled to his men to do the same. The squad then began to advance up the steep rise to the Zerg base, cautiously avoiding the numerous lava pools where a misstep was usually fatal. With the tenacity of the foe they hunted, the Terrans forced their way up, cutting down whatever opposition they encountered with a withering hail of 8mm fire from their weapons. Ryan closed his eyes wherever he killed. The thought of taking the life of another living creature in cold blood, enemy or not, made him nauseous.

Finally, the invaders reached the base entrance where they encountered a thoroughly nasty surprise. As Ryan was directing two Firebats to eradicate an offending creep colony, cries of terror and shock went up from the rear guard of his unit. Ran spun around and was greeted with the horrific sight of three Ultralisks mauling his men. Marines scattered and regrouped, screaming, their eyes popping. Already tracer fire was streaking towards he rampaging Ultras, with little effect. Already, more than two-thirds of the squad lay stacked like human cordwood, only not as neatly. Ryan caught sight of an Ultra slashing a soldier in half, hurling the savaged remains of the man towards him. A revolting rain of blood and gore splattered of his armor. Sick, terrified, Ryan decided to do whatever sane man would do. Snatching up his rifle, he lunged into the nearest shell crater.

Hiding there, he waited for the sounds of battle to die down. Peering up, he wondered where the hell those bloody Ultras had come from. Nothing could have survived the tempest of destruction the tanks had rained down earlier. Peeking up, he caught sight of something that he had not noticed previously. Cunningly grafted into the side of the hill was a nydus canal, yet untouched by the arclite fire. That must have been it…

Ryan ducked back down, and for the first time noticed that his hole had a fellow occupant.

Shivering in the corner of the darkened crater was a blood-smeared, shaky Zergling. It was smaller and weaker looking than normal Zerglings, obviously a runt. It eyed Ryan with a detachment one would expect of a superior looking down on its lesser, and it had been studying him ever since he had hid in the hole.

The two locked eyes, and Ryan began moving for his rifle, knowing with sincere despair that he would never make it time. Yet, mixed with the fear was an emotion that he could not explain: acceptance. He resigned himself to the fact that the he had not a shred of a chance, and he would die, no matter what happened. So, even as he lunged for the weapon, he closed his eyes, and relaxed, waiting for the killing blow to be dealt.

When Ryan opened his eyes, he realized that the Zergling had not moved either. It sat there, just staring at him. Ryan then noticed tat the rifle was already in his grip. Knowing that fate would no give him another chance such as this, he raised his rifle into firing position.

But something stopped him a milligram short from applying pressure onto the trigger. It was the look in the eyes of the Zergling. They were old, tired, and expectant. Waiting for him to get it over with.

The same emotion he'd felt.

Ryan realized that it was just another confused, helpless creature like him, stuck in the middle of this shithole of a war. A loser in life, just like him. Slowly he lowered the gun, and for the first time felt something else, relief.

The Zergling continued to stare at him quizzically, its mouth hanging open. The sight was so comical that Ryan burst into laughter. Sensing no danger, the Zergling ambled up to Ryan and sidled up close to him, like an obedient dog.

No words were exchanged; the feeling was mutual. Ryan pulled out a box of Lucky Strikes (still in production this far into the future) and took two out. He had never smoked the damn things before, but for want of being sociable, he felt that the least he could do was to offer his newly found companion a smoke. He put one between his teeth and held out the other to the Zergling. It accepted it hungrily, nearly taking of Ryan's hand in its' eagerness.   

Ryan laughed again, then produced a lighter and lit the Zergling's, then lit his own and took a long drag. The result caused him to choke and splutter, the acrid smoke in his lungs causing him to cough vigorously. The Zergling began to snort and hiss energetically, and began to roll around on the ground. Ryan could almost feel that that little bastard was laughing at him.

The Zergling then had his turn. He took a deep puff, pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and blew a smoke circle.

Ryan had to admit that that was the only Zergling that he knew could do that.

Suddenly, Ryan's radio crackled to life, startling the Zergling, causing to withdraw in terror. Ryan pulled the end of the receiver and listened to it.

The voice over it was cracking with urgency.

"Ryan? You alive? Listen. Forget about the Zerg. We are pulling out and commencing air strikes. If you can hear me, try to make it to the extraction point. Otherwise, get the hell below. Repeat, we are pulling out and commencing air strikes. Out."

"Oh shit…" Ryan breathed. Suddenly he sprang up and grabbed the Zergling towards him, so hard that it almost choked. He then yanked out a fallout blanket and pulled it over himself, then ducked, just as a blinding flash of light burst above the hive, followed by a deafening boom. Almost immediately, the shockwave, and the seemingly impossible heat, followed.

All around him, structures and creatures were burnt to a crisp, and the very earth itself caught fire, as a scalding wave of flame obliterated all before it. Just about everything around Ryan was immolated almost instantly, but he would be able to withstand the bomb's power for much longer.

Finally, the roar stopped. Ryan slowly and shakily removed the blanket and gazed at the destruction around him. Flames spurted out of the ground, blackened remains were scatter hither and yon, a testament to the destructive fire rained down on them. He stared at the desolation, before turning back to the Zergling.

His companion was gone.

All that was left were a few charred remains and the burnt-out cigarette butt.

A tear escaped his eye and trickled down onto the scorched ground.

Just then, Ryan was bathed in warm white light. Weaker than the one that preceded it, but still strong enough to make him cover his eyes.

"You alright man?" A concerned face appeared over the top of the crater, followed by a hand carrying torchlight.

Ryan stared down at his short-lived friend one last time, then looked up at his rag-tag rescuer.

"Yeah."

He was alive.

And that was all that mattered.

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