StarCraft: Downfall

Chapter 1: Setting Course

"Releasing docking clamps in three…two…one…mark."

A 'thunk' sounded throughout the ship.

"Docking clamps release. Activating warp drive cycle."

"ETA of departure?"

"Ninety ticks."

"Good. Keep me informed."

"Aye sir."

Through the viewscreen, Watson watched the Babylon recede into the darkness of space. It had been like most space platforms he'd visited – drab, patchy, and with a seedy underbelly that the enlisted always found their way to.

"Missing it sir?"

A hive of scum and villainy that he'd stayed clear from himself. Whether Turner had was another matter.

"Can't miss what I never experienced."

"Fine. Regretted then. Bemoaned. Aggrieved."

"Focus on your duties Commander."

"And those are, Sir?"

Watson looked at his XO. "The starmap," he said. "Boot it up."

"Aye," Turner said. He walked over before glancing back. "Sir."

Watson walked over to the bridge window. The bridge crew worked quickly and efficiently, and already the Babylon was far enough away to mask its specific structure, a blemish on the expanse of the universe. His officers worked as one. Worked efficiently, as if the ship's movement corresponded to their sense of purpose. If the bridge officers had any regrets about leaving the space platform, they weren't showing it.

And do I?

Watson looked at himself in the glass's reflection. Grey hair around his ears, a bald head, a pointed nose but otherwise no distinguishing features. He liked it that way. He was a captain in the Dominion Fleet, here to do a job. Distinguishing features just got in the way of that.

Like space platforms.

"Starmap ready sir.

Watson glanced round at Turner. His black uniform was the same as his bar the chevrons of a commander, but his face was something else. Black hair, grey eyes, pale skin – he did his job, but that was all he did – his job.

"Sir?"

But he did it well enough. So when Watson handed him a data chip, he trusted his XO to insert it into one of the holo-table's ports without hesitation. And also without hesitation, he picked up a radio from the table.

"This is Athena Actual, to Athena Crew. Stand to attention for orders."

The bridge crew did, all turning round from their chairs. Throughout the decks of the frigate, Watson imagined the rest of the crew during the same. Provided the swabbies weren't doing up their pants from their stay.

"As entertaining as our stay on the Babylon was, I'm afraid duty calls. The supplies, hardware, and medical staff we picked up from the space station will be transported to the fringe world of Ballast, about two days warp travel from here." He paused, wondering if he should voice regret of the lack of action, or relief.

"That is all. Athena Actual out."

He decided neither.

"Nice speech sir. Quick and to the point. Might want some 'for the Dominion' stuff though."

Watson looked at Turner. "Something the matter Commander?"

"No Sir. Just an observation. Sir."

"Fine. So observe this."

The star chart that appeared courtesy of the data chip didn't leave much to observe that hadn't been covered in the speech. Nestled away in the Lanz Expanse was the Babylon. On the other end of the route was the fringe system of Caja, specifically the planet-

"Ballast," Turner said, zooming in on the fringe world. "Funny name."

"Not really," Watson said, watching the planetoid catalogue data scroll by the world. "Ballast. A fringe world."

"Huh?"

The captain looked at his XO. "Ballast, as in the stuff that comes from a ship. Left behind."

"Oh. And is that changing?"

"Officially, yes." Watson zoomed out from the display. "Officially, the Dominion is stepping in to make up for Confederate neglect."

"And unofficially?"

"We deliver the goods, give the news jackals something to report on, and pick up a medical team for where they're better needed."

"Such as?"

"Anywhere but a world named Ballast."

The commander snorted. He then started pulling out a hypodermic from one of his uniform's pockets.

"It's Agria specifically, and technically it's standard rotation," Watson continued. "But…well, you know the situation."

Turner injected the hypodermic into his neck. "What, that the Dominion's battered and bruised, and there's only so many parts of the body we can heal?" He withdrew the needle. "Course I do sir. Whole crew does."

"And does that bother you?"

"Does it matter if I don't let it interfere with my job?"

"No," Watson said, deactivating the starmap. "I suppose not."

An uneasy silence passed between the two men. Turner was right, the captain reflected. Thoughts weren't a crime. Not yet anyway, and on a tiny frigate like this, operating on the fringes of the Koprulu sector, he supposed divergent thoughts wouldn't have mattered if they were a crime either.

"Anyway, if it's alright with you sir, I'll check the shuttles," the commander said. "Unless there's any objections."

Watson flexed a fist. Turner's attitude grated him sometimes, and he knew that it grated the crew as well. But he was right. So gesturing with his hand to the bridge exit, he watched as the XO departed.

"Mister Mercer," he said to his navigator. "Set a course."

"Aye sir."

In the centre of the bridge, Watson looked at the darkness of space.

It was at times like this that it felt like the universe watched him as well.


"Now remember Jeffrey. Apply the cream three times a day. Any less then the rash will spread. Any more and-"

"Yeah mister, three times a day." The nine year old looked up at the medic. "Now where's my lollipop?"

Henderson sighed, but nonetheless obliged, handing over the jar to the little brat. Picking a framberry flavoured one, the child ran out of the room. Groaning, the medic leant back in his chair.

Please tell me it's five.

Thunder rolled.

Thank you.

Henderson looked around the office. It was meant for an actual doctor, not a medic who had been dumped here one year ago in a token effort to show the Dominion still cared about its citizens. In truth, Henderson didn't mind too much. It was more people like Jeffrey Meguro who tested his patience more than anything.

But you don't test it do you? he thought, looking at the approaching storm. You always make it in on time.

Hurricane Apgo was what the people of d'Adda, Ballast, called the storm. A freak of nature that occurred at 1700 local time, once a day, every day. Ballast's weather system was comparatively static, almost always overcast, and from the year Henderson had spent on the world, a planet that lived up to its namesake. The type of planet that any starship captain would be happy to see the back of.

And will I be happy? he wondered, watching as the first droplets of rain hit the office window. Will the people?

He didn't know. He'd received word that he was being replaced. But over the past year, for every Jeffrey Meguro he'd encountered, there were two people who were the opposite. People who were grateful for what he and his team did, regardless of their political affiliation or lack thereof. Confederacy, Dominion, such things were beyond the concerns of Ballast's population. And Henderson liked them all the more for it.

"I swear to God, if I get one more call about a bloody cold, I'm going to shove my hands down the bastard's throat and rip out his beating heart!"

Which, right now, was more than he could say for one of his colleagues. One of them who came barging into his office like an aggravated rhynadon.

"River," Henderson said, forcing on a smile. "See you wasted no time."

"I've wasted ten hours of my life today," his co-worker said, reaching for the lollipop jar with one hand while pulling out a cigarette with her other. "I'm not wasting any more."

"No, of course not," Henderson said. He watched as she drew out a lemon-flavoured lollipop. "Lemon eh? No wonder you're so bitter."

"What?!"

"Nothing," Henderson said, taking a seat and putting his feet on the desk. "Nothing…"

River grunted and lit the cigarette. Thus began the process of alternating between the two.

"Seriously, if I get one more brat asking me…"

Henderson drowned her out. At thirty-three years of age, River Noble was the eldest member of his team. She was also the most loudmouthed. The type of person with fiery red hair, and with the explicit desire to be 'back in action' as she put it. Exactly what action she never specified, but Henderson could imagine. The type of action that had begun three years ago. The type of action that involved aliens, war, and more war. The type of action he wanted nothing to do with.

"Um, Henderson?"

The type of action that Amanda wanted to stay clear of also.

The medic watched as the third member of his team walked gingerly into his office. In the midst of exchanging between cigarette and lollipop, River looked at her as well.

"Took you long enough," she snapped.

"I-"

"And for God's sake, would it kill you to dress properly?"

"I-"

"Lay off it River," Henderson murmured.

River glared at him. "Oh. Right. Lay off it. Suppose you don't mind Amanda dressing like a-"

"I'll…I'll change if you want," Amanda whispered.

"No, it's fine," Henderson said. "It's…fine."

Fine. He wondered if he really felt that. Whether it was okay for Amanda to dress in blue jeans and a white vest, as if she were some kind of grease monkey and not a stand-in at a clinic.

I suppose you know though, he thought, looking at the medic, her blue eyes matching his brown ones, her pale skin standing in contrast to his darker pigmentation. Isn't that right?

Amanda didn't meet his gaze.

"Anyway, why are we here?" River snapped. "Make it quick, will you? Club Pascoe opens in an hour."

"Ah, yes," Henderson said. He typed some buttons on his laptop, currently mounded on the desk. "Enjoy it while you can River."

His colleague sniffed. "What do you mean, while I can?"

"We're leaving," Amanda whispered, as if in a trance. "A new world…"

"What?" River asked.

"What Amanda said," Henderson answered, turning the laptop to face the two women. "Because in a few days' time, you won't be able to."

Henderson knew what River and Amanda were seeing, provided the laptop wasn't glitching up again. They'd be seeing a missive they'd received from the DS Athena. A missive that detailed departure time from Partia Starport in a few days' time. Along with a transfer to-

"Agria," River murmured. "Fekk, what the hell is Agria?"

"A planet," Amanda whispered.

"Okay, let me rephrase that," River snarled. "Why are we being transferred to another motherfekkin backwater planet that I've never heard of?!"

"It…it sounds nice," Amanda whispered. "I mean…Ag…as in, agriculture-"

"More rednecks in space!" River exclaimed, throwing her cigarette down onto the wooden floor and extinguishing it before a fire could start. "Christ!"

"Look," Henderson said firmly. "You want to fight the good fight, treat soldiers with stars in your eyes, fine. But orders are orders. So if Captain Watson wants to bring us out, we'll be there. No questions asked."

"But…the people-"

"Will get a new team, and new supplies," Henderson said, answering Amanda's question. "Don't worry."

River snorted.

"And it's non-negotiable."

River snorted again.

"Got a cold?"

River went to say something. But she stopped short and decided to storm out of the room instead. Slamming the door behind her, causing Amanda to wince.

"Huh," Henderson said, turning the laptop off. "I'd have thought she'd be happy to leave."

Amanda shrugged.

"What about you Amanda?" Henderson asked. "You okay?"

"Are you?" she whispered.

"I…" He trailed off. "Haven't really considered that actually."

Amanda nodded as she retrieved a strawberry-flavoured lollipop. "I know," she whispered.

"Yeah," Henderson murmured, spinning his chair back to the window. To the rain. To the universe laughing at him. A universe of alien sociopaths, genocidal insects, and the screwed race that was humanity caught in-between. "You always do."


A/N

As per issues raised in reviews:

-While this is indeed a prequel to Hybrid (stated as such on my homepage), I don't see Haley and Izsha being the same individual. While I love the idea of it, the lack of any mention of this in HotS or on Izsha's SC2 character page leads me to conclude the idea was dropped. Which, given how many of the original plot points of HotS were dropped/altered, wouldn't surprise me. :(

-StarCraft Adventures was a StarCraft tabletop RPG released in 2000, that period of time after Brood War but before the announcement of SC2. It was declared non-canon, which personally iffed me because a) there was nothing that inherently contradicted current lore or couldn't be accomodated, b) elements of the game had already been incorporated into various EU works (e.g. various firearms) and c) had some lore tidbits that weren't found elsewhere (e.g. the origins of the archon), which as a wiki editor, makes editing hell when it comes to source segregation. On the other hand, I'm personally glad that the Alliance won't pop up in the future. All in all, probably best to treat SA in the same vein as HunCraft - a pseudo-official "what if?" scenario that was to continue from where BW left off, only not as horrible plot-wise.