StarCraft: Downfall
Chapter 2: Preparations
"Exiting warp space in three…two…one…mark."
As with everyone else on their feet, Watson stumbled as the frigate entered the material universe, leaving the purple, shifting energy stream of the warp behind. In contrast, the void of space stared back at him.
"Status?" Watson asked.
"We're at Caja," Mercer answered. The starmap displayed a hologram of the star system, including the Athena. "Our back's to the sun, but according to our sensors its spectral characteristics meet its stellar classification record."
"And Ballast?"
"Coming up now sir," said Cawthorne, an ensign and one of the frigate's two pilots. "By our angle of approach we should be getting a view of the planet…now."
The frigate turned upwards (if "up" could really be applied in the context of space) and before them, lay Ballast. Watson walked up towards the viewscreen. Turner joined him.
"So that's Ballast," the commander said. "Bit of a shithole ain't it?"
Watson frowned, but otherwise remained silent. "Shithole" wasn't the word he would have used, but he supposed Turner wasn't far off. Grey clouds, dark green landscapes with deserts, dark seas. It was as if someone had taken a picture of Tarsonis or Umoja and applied some kind of filter to remove any sense of beauty those planets had. Granted, Tarsonis wasn't looking too good itself nowadays, and his chances of ever seeing Umoja in person were non-existent while those race traitors did their independence thing, but-
"Sir?"
Watson snapped himself out of his reverie. "Nice place," he said.
"Pardon?"
"This. Ballast. The fringes of terran civilization. Proof that Man can extend his reach to the furthest corners of the stars. Testament to the shining beacon of Dominion civilization. A statement that, 'we're still here.' Let zerg come. Let protoss come. Let race traitors and belligerents from Earth come. We're still here."
"Yes sir, we are," Turner said. "So what are your orders?"
"Pardon?"
"I said," the XO repeated, drawing out a syringe, "what are your orders?"
"Oh," the captain said, strengthening his uniform. "Right. Orders."
He heard Turner mutter something under his breath before injecting himself in his neck. What it was, he couldn't make out. Not that he tried. Some things weren't worth knowing.
"Vasle," he asked his communications officer. "Any hails from the planet?"
"No sir. Not even from Partita."
Watson frowned. "Any signs of-"
"Sir, it doesn't necessarily mean anything," Mercer ventured, turning around in his chair. "They may not have the means to detect us. They may be waiting for us to make contact."
It was a bit out of place. But at 115 years old, and a former member of the Colonial Fleet who'd transferred into Mengsk's new order willingly, Watson had come to rely on Mercer's judgement on more than one occasion.
"Alright," Watson said, turning back to Vasle. "Open hailing frequencies. Let's knock on the door before kicking it down."
"Great," Turner said. "You do that. "Meanwhile, if it's alright with you, I'll head for the shuttle bay and greet our guests." He started walking for the door.
"Commander."
And stopped, as he turned to Watson. The captain stepped forward.
"Commander, you have leave from my ship, to escort our supplies and personnel to Partita Starport, and to represent the Dominion on the surface. But you will do that only when I give you permission for that."
"Fine," Turner said. "So do I have permission?"
"You do. This time."
"Fine," the commander answered, saluting. "Sir."
Watson saluted back and watched his XO leave the bridge.
He liked Turner. At the end of the day, Turner was someone he could rely on. But he'd been increasingly agitated over the last few days, and while warp travel could account for that given its adverse effects on the human body, there was no reason he should be in any worse shape than anyone.
Try to play nice with the locals Turner, he thought as he turned back to his bridge crew. Even if you can't do it up here.
Playing nice, the captain reflected. It was something that humanity never seemed to be capable of. And with aliens threatening them from without, and the scum of mankind threatening them from within, it was a luxury the terran species might not have anyway.
Still, Watson could dare to hope.
Partita Starport was inappropriately named.
It was Amanda's thought when she, River and Henderson had arrived here one year ago, and in the year since that, nothing had been done to alter her assessment. Starports as she imagined (and in some cases, seen), were big, sprawling structures, both on ground and in space. Hubs of commerce and exploration. Bastions of humanity. Crawling from ships that would take someone to a moon, to monolithic starships set to embark on journeys to stars hundreds of light years away. In contrast, Partita consisted of a single airstrip for atmospheric craft, and a few landing pads for ships with VTOL capabilities. None of them capable of hosting anything larger than a container ship.
"I hate this place," River sniffed as the trio of medics stood by one of the landing pads, waiting for their transport to arrive. "Sooner we're off this dump the better."
"Yeah, I'm sure the Dominion will be much better," Henderson murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Amanda knew that River had thought the same as she had when they came here a year ago, and not just because she'd said it. She knew that Henderson was indifferent to Partia's stature a year ago, and not just because he remained silent. Letting her mind run free for a second, she could sense that River's views hadn't changed, while Henderson was going to miss it the place.
"Amanda?"
And she shivered as she withdrew her mind into her own head.
"You okay?"
The medic nodded. It was cold and drizzling, as was usual for Ballast, and the anorak she was wearing was only helping solve the latter part of that problem. She wondered if Henderson felt the same way. Biting her lip, she fought the urge to find out.
"Fekk, they're here. Bout time."
Don't swear, Amanda thought. But River had a point – they'd been waiting fifteen minutes longer than they should have, and only now was a quartet of shuttles descending from the sky, all of them glowing from the heat of re-entry, contrasting with the blue glow of their ion thrusters.
"Four shuttles," Henderson murmured. "How nice."
Amanda could tell from just his voice that he didn't mean it. Shuttles were meant for carrying people. Any cargo they brought would be miniscule in comparison to what Ballast really needed. Fuel. Medicine. Weapons. Not that there was really anything preventing the planet's population from being wiped from existence if the zerg or protoss really wanted to do such a thing, but…
Amanda shivered again. Weapons. Aliens. She wanted nothing to do with them. And as the shuttles landed, as she saw an office step down the stairs of one of them while SCVs lumbered up to unload the cargo from the other three, she reflected that she didn't want much to do with the Dominion right now either.
It's okay. Just get on the ship. You'll be fine. Quick trip to Agria and-
"Lieutenant Henderson?"
Amanda kept quiet. And her thoughts fell silent as well.
The officer kept standing there in front of them on the tarmac, just outside the encircled ring of the landing pad.
"Is there something wrong with your hearing, Lieutenant?"
"No sir," Henderson murmured. "Nothing."
Amanda bit her lip. On the other side of the pad she could see some medical staff disembarking, hover cameras surrounding them as they made their way to the single story building that served as customs. Protocol and a vid-feed for UNN. Typical. Just as Henderson was acting in his typical fashion as well.
"Indeed?" the officer murmured. "I was confused. You see, I thought I addressed you by rank. I thought you would respond and salute. And I thought," he said, nudging him in his anorak, "that you would have the courtesy to wear your dress uniforms as well."
"Men," River snorted. "Typical."
Please don't draw attention, please don't draw attention…
"It's raining, so I wanted to be warm," Henderson answered, his voice just as controlled as the officer's. "I haven't worn my dress uniform in a year, and at most, I'll have to wear it for a few days on the Athena. And I've also gone a year without saluting as well, so forgive me for being out of practice Commander."
"I didn't tell you my rank."
"No, you didn't. But I haven't forgotten the Dominion Navy's insignia code."
Henderson gestured to the chevrons on the man's shoulders, the gold bands standing in contrast to the otherwise black uniform. River sighed. And the man began to chuckle.
"I like you Lieutenant," he said, shaking his hand. "I'm Commander Lomax Turner. And if it were up to me, I'd let you treat me like a non-con all week." His eyes narrowed. "But as word of advice, Captain Watson is a bit more…old school. So as his XO, I'd advise you to treat him with the pomp and circumstance he expects."
"I'll do that."
Amanda winced. She knew when Henderson was lying.
As if triggered by a silent signal, the quarter began walking. River went ahead of them, en route to the shuttle's hatch, skirting by the dockhands in the midst of refuelling and inspecting the craft. Henderson and the commander walked side by side. Amanda kept her head down. And her thoughts to herself.
"And this is my other colleague, Amanda Haley," Henderson said. Both men glanced back at her. Turner in particular. She tried to meet his gaze.
"You're a quiet one," he said.
"I…um…"
"Very quiet."
Amanda managed to meet the man's gaze…and raised an eyebrow. Black hair, grey eyes, pale, unblemished skin…he looked so…artificial. Like one of those celebrities that graced UNN, all with the same cookie cutter, aesthetically perfect face designed to get the crowd staring at them like a bunch of slack-jawed fringe worlders. Subconsciously, she brushed some of her own blonde hair aside. Subconsciously, she reached towards the commander's mind.
"Well, whatever," Turner said. "Seen and not heard, introvert rather than extrovert, I'm sure you'll serve the Dominion fine."
And she withdrew her mind back, fighting temptation, doing her best to keep her promise to let people's thoughts be her own. And feeling terror rising within her.
Oh God, did he sense me? He can't be a telepath can he? Oh…oh shit. I…no. It's fine. All fine. I…I'm fine. I'll serve…the Dominion fine.
It was true. She liked helping people. She was fine serving the Dominion. As long as it didn't involve serving them in…other ways.
No! I won't! Not like that!
Amanda quickened her pace. And not just because of the rain.
"The Athena's on a tight schedule," she heard Turner say. "Quick trip up, then straight to Agria."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Henderson said.
"Yeah," the commander mused, walking up the steps that led into the shuttle's passenger bay. "I'm sure it will…"
Henderson followed. Casting out one last look at Partita and the surrounding area, Amanda…wasn't sure.
Just a trip. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just keep my thoughts to myself and…
She trailed off, watching as a flock of emkwis landed on the grass outside the fence that surrounded the starport. Hunting for fiddlers in the moist soil. Animals of instinct. Content with their place in the world. Flightless birds that according to the few scientists who'd studied them, possessed no ancestors that had ever taken flight at all and had remained ground-bound like their lizard ancestors. Content with their place on this world.
"Come on Amanda," Henderson said from the passenger hatch. "You'll catch a cold out there."
Nodding, Amanda trudged up the stairs. She knew she would never be content. She was a human, and a…different, human at that. She could never be free like those birds.
All she could do was strap herself in, wait for the shuttle to be refuelled, get to the Athena, and stay in her quarters for the whole trip.
It was a practice she'd long since gotten used to.