I'm not really sure what causes it. I've always chalked it down to the psychic dampener they had to insert, to make sure that my abilities don't go haywire. Like they would, anyway... I'm hardly the strongest of all telepathic humans as far as my power goes. Still, I store my potential until it's needed.
Like now, when I'm about to go to battle against my fellow humans.
It really isn't fair of Mengsk, to ask me to do this. I'm a human, just like they are. There's a limited population of psychic humans to begin with, and even fewer decide to go into the military service. I'm not exactly sure what got me into it in the first place. I remember ten years ago, most Confederacy politics were corrupt. Not that it's much different now.
That's why I fight it... but I don't want to wage war on my fellow humans. There are so few humans out here... we're far from home. I can't imagine we'll ever see Earth again. Nor could our founding fathers, for that matter, which is why we settled here in the first place. I like it here, but I'm not crazy about the place. I was born into a relatively decent family, although it's hard to judge by my standards alone. We all grew up with our own code of morals and ethics, and I like to think that they're what helped me through my darkest hours.
But now, as I leave the Barracks, ready to undergo the suicidal mission I and a dozen of my fellow Ghosts have been assigned, I realize that this is my darkest hour. Even thinking about doing something like this was intolerable when I was younger, especially after the Korhal incident. Now I have to go after my fellow humans with the same type of weapon that devastaed Korhal in the first place.
Our team leader, some starchy character named McKell, is talking into his radio, supposedly directly to the force commander. I wonder if the commander knows what he's doing. I wonder if he's ever been out here in the field, doing the freakishly dirty work that I have to live with day in and day out. It was much different before... we only went up against some Zerg forces before. Small parties, nothing really massive... Mengsk prefers our arm of the Sons of Korhal avoid them, though he's so bloodthirsty I wonder why he holds us back.
I was distant from the rest of my corps at that time, and so I took little notice of those hideous aliens tearing my brethren limb from limb while I fired countless canister rounds into them. I was once with a squad that faced down a pair of Ultralisks. Only me and two other Ghosts survived that incident, and I was wiping that purple crap they call blood off me for hours afterward.
But now? Against humans? Even the Confederacy wouldn't stoop this low, not nowadays. General Duke is a possible exception, but then again, he's a bastard. I'd take Nova Squadron over him any day. I'd love to see them blow the crap out of him... he deserves it. Get vaporized by a Yamato Cannon blast.
The Sons of Korhal is a terrorist group, plain and simple. Our job is to scare the Confederacy off, scare them into submission... get them to listen to reason. I hardly think that Mengsk is the voice of reason, though. It'd be much better if Raynor, or even Kerrigan, were the head of the Korhalian forces. Raynor doesn't understand it like Kerrigan does, but I'd take either one of them over Mengsk.
I'm rambling now. My point is that when we fought against the Zerg, it was just a bunch of bloodthirsty aliens with no mind of their own. That zomboid look in their eyes was obvious. But here... we're fighting humans. Our own kind. When we should be fighting off the Zerg, the real threat. Bad enough we got aliens invading human territory... we don't need this infighting.
Damn Mengsk for telling us to go after our own kind. And damn the commander for actually agreeing.
McKell is waving us all onward. Apparently the commander is putting his authority to use. If I ever meet him, I'm gonna strangle him.
We've got two dozen Marines as the first wave of fighters. The commander's battle strategy is simple enough, it seems... take out the local detector buildings, like the Missile Turrets, and pave the path for the Ghosts to come in undetected. What he's basically doing is condemning those Marines ahead of us to death... the Missile Turrets most assuredly have Bunkers next to them, and prevent any ground force tampering.
But then again, these troops are all ex-cons. I guess he's figuring on being judge, jury, and executioner. The rules are harsh around here.
The ground is rumbling slightly. I glance over my shoulder, and the sight relieves me somewhat. We've got heavier reinforcements behind us... half a dozen Siege Tanks and another half dozen Goliaths. All with the most up-to-date armor and weaponry we can find for them. The Tanks will be useful as a blockade force... they'll set up on the enemy bridge and go to Siege Mode, and the Goliaths will make sure no air forces come after them as they wait for us Ghosts to do our job.
Even with the dampener implant, I can still sense the Marines. They're all apprehensive, in the backs of their minds, but they know what they have to do. Most know that they won't be coming back. Most don't care, but some are wondering if there will be a funeral for them. They all figure it'll be a short procession, and not individual ones... if anything at all.
I can hear the Marine commanders shouting. They're all running faster now. The distant Missile Turrets buildings are coming into visual range now. Most of the Ghosts could see it before the Marines, thanks to the ocular implants we were all given. My right eye itches, even though it's no longer there.
The Marines are beginning to fire on the Turrets. I can hear return fire... sure enough, there's a triplet of Bunkers sitting next to the two towers. They're all concentrating their fire on the center Bunker, and it seems to be shattering rather quickly. Now they're going after the Bunkers on each side.
McKell, meanwhile, is speaking into his communicator, insanely calm. "Ghosts, hold here until the Marine force is through."
We can see the enemy forces. They just can't see us. Not because we're cloaked, though. Apparently, the Confederacy can't afford to put implants into everyone.
The Marines are getting shot down left and right now. They've destroyed the Bunkers, but taking out the opposite side's forces is another matter altogether. Each side is suffering heavy losses.
Maybe this won't work, after all.
But no... I'm looking over my shoulder again, and I see that another force of two dozen Marines is coming up to take the place of their fallen comrades. The commander's rushing the enemy, a simple battle tactic that even a three-year-old can master.
The new force is overpowering the enemy rather easily now. The enemy brought in a couple of SCVs to try and rebuild their Bunkers, but our Marines aren't giving them the chance. The Marines are taking down the Turrets now, and soon, they'll flood across the bridge, and into another hailstorm of enemy fire.
"Ghosts, advance," McKell orders.
We're walking in a single file line, and he's leading the way. I'm the eighth one back.
The sounds of battle are nearby. I know the Marines are being slaughtered. If I know that, McKell does too. And so does the commander. Not like any of them are gonna do anything about it.
We've made it to the bridge. Another of McKell's dispassionate orders. "Ghosts, cloak."
We all hit our cloaking devices. Using our implants, we can still see each other on the frequency our devices are operating, but with our normal eyes, we're totally invisible to each other. It's a strange sight, to say the least.
We're all holding our rifles at the ready, and the Goliaths and Siege Tank force is making their way to the bridge as we begin to cross. In a few seconds, they'll set up camp, so to speak.
I can hear the whirring of the motors already. We're almost to the end of the bridge... meanwhile, the first pair of Tanks have gone to Siege Mode at the other end.
We can see the enemt soldiers clearly now. They've got a considerable army of melee attackers at the forefront. Tons of Marines and Firebats. No Ghosts to speak of, though. That worries me. Perhaps they're going to go nuclear on us, the same way we're planning to call a strike on them.
There are four Barracks that I can see. There're also two Factories, a pair of Armories, and a Starport. All of these buildings are quite clearly busy, in the middle of producing and modifying their units for maximum punch and minimum fuss.
Our side has five miniature bases across the local area. All of them are necessarily centralized around their own Command Center. None of which the commander occupies, the coward... he's watching us from his personal ship. It's a cloaked ship, a different configuration than any other ship known to the Confederacy. No one except the Korhalians would be able to trace it.
The Command Centers all have their own nuclear silos. All of the silos are loaded.
That's why we're here.
The enemy's Command Center is in view now. They've clustered several protective buildings around it. Shame that they're all Bunkers.
I hear McKell hissing over the comm channel. "Ghosts, scatter east, double time!"
Even as we executed our orders, I could help but look to our west to see what had set McKell off. I feel the blood drain out of my face as I spot what's worrying him... it's the familiar saucer shape all Ghosts have come to fear when on covert missions.
The lumbering Science Vessel is hovering near a bank of Supply Depots, having moved several hundred meters away from the Starport from which it originated. I don't know what they're doing in there, and right now, I don't really care... what's important is that I get my ass away from that damn thing immediately.
The Ghosts all rush to different areas of the enemy camp, none of which possesses a detector unit or building nearby. I'm near a small cadre of Marines, all of which seem to have taken a break from the task at hand. Perhaps they're not expecting company.
The Marine with the Captain markings on his armor is taking a long drag on a cigarette and leaning on his rifle for support. I smile grimly under my mask. He really didn't seem to think the Korhalians were going to be causing any trouble.
But, even as I find myself amused by his lack of preparedness... my sympathy for my fellow man returns, and my smile disappears.
I hear another order coming through. "Take up positions for maximum damage. Jenkins and Gradie, target the Supply Depots not covered by that Science Vessel. Harrison and Wallace, hit the junction with the Factories. Cameron and Xander, go after the Barracks. Everyone else, target the Command Center and surrounding fortifications."
I sigh reluctantly as I approach the Command Center from the southeast.
"Fire lasers on my command," says McKell.
I kneel down on the soft grass and take aim at the Bunkers and Command Center, my finger ready to hit the stud on my rifle that will fire a pinpoint, low-frequency laser at the area... the pair of nukes that the six of us are planning to direct will strike that area in the projected center crosspoint of the lasers, and the Command Center will be vaporized. The Bunkers will also endure massive structural damage.
Then I feel it. The pain at the base of my skull. It's so painful that my head jerks up, and I bite my lip, trying not to cry out.
And as I jerk my head up, I see something none of the rest of them can see.
"McKell, stop!" I harshly whisper into my comm. "Everyone near the Supply Depots, get away! Right now!"
"Belay that!" McKell snapped. "Forsythe, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"The Science Vessel is on the move!" I responded. "Everyone, get away!"
But it was too late. The vessel was indeed moving, for what purpose none of us knew... but whatever the reason, it moved towards the Ghosts the detector field that all Science Vessels maintain pulled away the cloaking effect the Ghosts there were attempting to use.
I hear shouting nearby now... Marines are on the move. The enemy has spotted Jenkins and Gradie, and they seem to be putting two and two together, as well... I watch helplessly as Jenkins and Gradie are massacred by the Marines, and then as the Science Vessel moves toward the Barracks and Factories...
"Damn! Ghosts, get away from that vessel at all costs!" McKell shouts.
This is what we get. I see that now. This is what we get for turning on our fellow man. We get murdered by him.
It's only fair.
But I still want to live.
So I run away from the vessel as quickly as I can, and I see, through my ocular implant, that my remaining compatriots are doing the same.
We're down to six, now. Even the bulky armor we'd been equipped with wasn't good enough to stop the hypersonic spikes of the Marine rifles. Chaos is raining down on us. We manage to escape to one unoccupied area of the camp, and the vessel stops moving... perhaps they're satisfied.
I spot McKell standing on a precipice nearby, and he's loading his rifle. I snarl, "Are you insane? We'll never survive against that!"
He stares at me coldly. "It's not my intention to fight the entirety of their force... only to bring down one of them to destroy the rest."
Suddenly, I realize what he's doing. I check my energy meter and see that I'm beginning to run somewhat low... and if I'm running low, he is, too.
"You fire that thing, you won't have enough energy to maintain your cloak. You'll be killed!" I say.
"That I will, Forsythe. I'm depending on you and your compatriots to complete your mission."
He cycles the load into his barrel.
And then he runs forward, straight at the Science Vessel.
His cloak peels away from his body.
And he fires.
The Lockdown charge impacts the Science Vessel dead center, and the vessel's antigrav engines sputter for a moment. The vessel settles onto the ground, its power audibly cutting off.
The Marine forces see this and begin firing round after merciless round straight into McKell's armor.
I can't even watch. I turn away as he cries out in pain. I feel the sharp stinging at the back of my skull. It's the psychic backlash of hearing him lose his life.
Great. Just great. I'm ass-deep now... I don't want to kill all of these men... but if I don't, they'll kill me real soon...
"Damn," I mutter.
And I ready the laser sight once again.
I point it directly at the Starport, where they're building another Science Vessel... I can see it in the final stages of production...
I hit the firing stud. The laser shoots out and strikes the side of the Starport.
It's a pinprick. But it's enough.
I glance off in the distance, and I see a rocket launching high into the air. One of the silos has launched its missile, and now it's locked on.
"All Ghosts," I say, "lock on targets at your discretion."
Immediately, other pinprick lasers strike the Barracks, the Factories, and the Command Center fortifications...
Four more launches can be seen from here, through a Ghost's eye.
I wish it didn't have to be this way.
But there's no other choice. The nukes are locked on. Now we all have to get clear. Those of us that remain charge away from our positions as fast as we can.
And as we do... we sense our human brothers being vaporized. By our own hands.
I can't open my eye now. It's paralyzed shut. And my brain is refusing to accept any new data from my ocular implant. It's a strange thing to have a mechanical sight enhancer and still be blind.
I find myself cowering for a few moments, as the residual shockwave of the nuclear blasts wash over me. Hundreds of men, gone, in the blink of an eye. Some with homes. Lives. Families... children.
And now their children will never see them again.
I can hear the Tanks and the Goliaths forces moving in for the kill, and I hear a couple of my Ghost brethren firing their rifles in some small attempt to assist.
I can't do it. I've done what I was assigned.
It broke my heart.
This is a sad day for us all.
The sting remains.