The Other Edge

by usafknight1007

This story is a re-imagining of Starcraft: Evolutions I wrote under the pen name Kylun 5 years ago which I had never finished. I intend to finish it now and in a way that reflects my evolved writing style.

2. Prologue

1842 Zulu, Solarian Standard Time (SST)

Geneva, Switzerland, Earth

Sol System

The quiet was broken only by a profound sigh, like the bitter acceptance of a bereaved mother at an overwhelming loss. The lamenting wind rose and keened a despairing wail through the blackened forest of the city. It swirled plumes of dust and raised pillars of oily smoke as it caressed the burnt remnants of the shattered cityscape. The air shimmered with heat distortion, borne of the raging infernos which feasted on what the folly of the pride of men had wrought. The sharp tang of burning metal contested with the acrid odor of rubber as the bloated, blood red sun sank on the late autumn day. Dark clouds hung like a mourner's veil across the sky, blanketing the city below in an almost comforting darkness; a balm for the innocence lost.

The moon gained prominence in the sky, its silvery visage peaking through the soot heavy clouds to bathe asphalt waves in silver dusk. The sunset was beautiful against the angry sky, its brilliance no less for having to shine through both ash and despair. It spoke of the hope which lay beneath the destruction, the peace found on the other side of war. As the sun hid its face from the world and darkness swam across the horizon, figures arose like the dead from their graves. They clawed their way from the rubble of war, that of buildings and bodies, to stand erect beneath the moonlight. They all looked the same, grime and sweat mixing with dust and ash to cast an unnatural grey pallor to their skin, matched by the weariness of the soul reflected in their eyes. More and more of the walking dead emerged from their makeshift crypts, blistered hands reaching out to one another in the desperate quest for warmth and life. A man clutched a woman into an earnest embrace, neither caring in the oddity of a stranger's embrace. They were kin in marriage through the shared survival of impossible devastation. They joined other survivors in the slow and steady march to the single, nearly unmarred monument at the heart of the city. Its spires clawed skyward in a dragon like claw, ever defiant against the tragedy that befell the rest of the city.

The occasional fitful cough contended with the mourning wind as their red rimmed eyes locked on the tattered and broken symbol of the once mighty United Earth Directorate. Its color flashed in the dying light once before it ripped free from its post, a sudden and angry wind banishing it from the spire. A rippling wave surged through the massed crowd below the building, followed in earnest by a hushed anticipation that grew thicker as the seconds ticked on. As one, a thousand lungs drew deeply of filthy air in a gasp that silenced the wind. There were people atop the spire, their presence betrayed only by their movement against the unwavering hardness of the roofline. The UED flag briefly flashed into view, its journey earth-ward carrying it across the main avenue before settling into the clawed grasp of a survivor. Though the gender was an enigma, their contempt for the flag was not, as the figure threw the flag to the ground in a burst of anger and stepped upon it purposefully, grinding it beneath their blackened sneakers. Color exploded atop the roof, the halogen glow wreathing it in revealing incandescence that was almost too much for the watching eyes to bear. It was striped in a red and white, like the US flag of old, bearing a blue square in its upper right corner. Proud and glittering within that indigo field was a golden laurel wreath cradling a pristine Earth.

The new flag raised proudly, its swift ascent unfettered by delay or hesitation. A faint ting of metal on metal rang out across the sky like the tolling of a meager bell, yet rang in the hearts of the survivors as loudly as a trumpet sound from Heaven's host. The air shook with a rumble which came from every direction, rising in a crescendo of sensation which reverberated around every bend, across every street and park. Like a damn breaking with thunderous report, the rumble shattered into the blissful joy of a cheering crowd. No longer mere survivors, this cheering, this tearful lustful cry into the heavens marked them as the victors.

"We've done it," The woman exclaimed breathlessly, "We've won. We've really won"

The man's smile deepened as he replied, "At last, we're free."