A/N: Here's chapter two. The wasteland installation has to investigate a
call for help from Backwater Station. As always, reviews are appreciated. I
STILL don't own Starcraft. *pout* And also, thanks go out to Dark-Elk for
his generous offer, and I may well want to put this thing on Shattered
Enigma.
-Chapter Two: Backwater Station-
Command Center of the Colonial Magistrate Mar Sara Colony, Wasteland Site 07:12 SCT, 13 Dec 2499
With the Wasteland Station firmly established the night before, Yates, Raynor, and the militia had retired, leaving a small platoon of troops to patrol the perimeter. ordering that constant vigilance be maintained in the event of more alien attacks. But no more came, thankfully, and awakening at 06:30, Yates had eaten breakfast in the messhall. Eggs and toast, not too bad. Again, it was far better than the rations they were stuck with before. Getting a few good cooks into the complex had done wonders for morale. Once the breakfast was finished, he moved outside the mammoth command center, walking about outside for a short time.
Taking a small and leisurely stroll around the small complex, he passed by the Supply Depots with their massive air-conditioner fans. then by the Academy, then past the Vespene refinery, where a few SCVs came and went, taking bits of the valuable gas with them. Finally, when he reached the Barracks, Marshal Raynor came out to meet him. The two shook hands, both with grins on their faces, and Yates kept walking, Raynor by his side. "Hey, what's up, man?" he drawled, still smiling. "Sergeant Keller and I got yer refugees tucked in nice and snug. Provided we can sidestep anymore surprises from the Confederates, and if we can keep them away from those damned alien critters, they should have an easy time."
Nodding once, Yates agreed. "Indeed. does anyone have a clue as to just what those things were?" he asked, coming to a stop and watching Raynor for a response. The marshal shook his head, looking slightly irritated. "Hmm, figures." Yates continued, and the two men set to walking once more. They walked about the perimeter of the complex, and before long found themselves back at the entrance to the command center. Stepping in, with Raynor right behind him, he decided to head to the control room. "Marshal, have Sergeant Keller retrieve one of the bodies, and tell him to take it to the lab, so it can be analyzed. The sooner we know what these things are, the better."
"I couldn't agree with you more, Commander." Raynor replied, his drawl as thick as ever. "I'll have 'im work on it." He would have said more, but before he could, Yates' wrist communicator went off with a shrill alarm. Mere seconds later, the entire building went to alert status, as the steady lighting began to pulse in angry red flashes. 'Priority alert! Priority alert!' the main computer squawked. Looking at each other for the briefest of seconds, Raynor and Yates tore off at a run now, hurrying to the control room two levels below them. When they reached it, the doors were already open. and it was fully staffed now. PFC Miller was seated at the ComSat radar screen, frantically scanning it for any source of impending danger.
Stepping to the main computer interface terminal, Yates requested a tactical update on what was going on. The android-ish avatar was already there, and seemed to immediately dispense with its usual pleasantries. 'Priority alert,' it said again. 'Backwater Station, located three kilometers to our north, is under attack by unknown alien organisms.' A sharp gasp whistled through Raynor's teeth. He had a clue about what was attacking them. and he didn't like it. Most likely, the same things they'd dealt with just last night. 'Distress beacon detected, activated at 06:58. Alerting Confederate headquarters on Tarsonis. response detected. Stand by for incoming transmission.'
The avatar went blank. A minute or so later, the face of the aged general - Edmund Duke, was his name - appeared in the screen. Not a recorded transmission. this was a live feed, directly from Tarsonis, which was far away from little Mar Sara. Raynor, Yates, and the rest of the room's occupants watched quietly, listening to the General's message. 'We've already received the distress beacon from Backwater, and we'll move in to take care of it.' Most of the faces watching went from interest to disdain in a matter of seconds. 'You just sit tight where you are, and you'll be notified if there's anything we think that you need to know.' The screen went blank, leaving a heavy silence in the wake of the message. The computer's avatar returned, quiet, emotionless.
Raynor slammed his hands angrily on the console. "Damn him!" He whirled on Yates, fire in his eyes. He hated that General. anyone with any sense hated him. "Listen, Magistrate, if we wait for Confederate reinforcements, that station's gonna be dust." Around the room, there were silent nods of agreement, but none dared speak, afraid of incurring Raynor's wrath. "I'll head out there now, see what I can do," Raynor continued, moving to exit the room. "You send in some militia with me, and we'll save those folks. Trust me on it." And so he left, and the heavy double doors slid slowly shut behind him.
Yates was frozen a moment more, looking after him. Then with a grim determination, he turned back to the console, activating the communicator. "Sergeant Keller, form up your squad and meet Marshal Raynor outside in five minutes. We have a mission." Cutting off the terminal, he hurried out of the room. Grabbing a gauss rifle from the armory on his way out, he practically ran toward the entrance, hoping to catch up with Raynor. He did, just as the Marshal was walking down the ramp that led up to the command center. "Jim, wait up!" he called. Raynor stopped, turned around, and smiled as Yates moved to his side. "I'll come with you."
** ** **
"All right, men," Keller barked, his deep baritone voice echoing throughout the Barracks. Every head, every pair of eyes in the room was riveted on him now. "Commander wants us to form up an assault squad and meet the Marshal in five minutes." He paused, waiting a moment, to see if anyone would complain. After all, it was rather early in the morning. But not one word came back to him. "So let's move it, ladies! Four minutes to go!" At his shout, the room quickly because a surge of action as nearly three dozen marines rose from whatever they were doing. A loud metallic clanking filled the air as suit of armor after suit of armor was donned. Rifle after rifle was loaded, cocked, then checked.
And then, precisely on schedule, the thirty-seven marines tromped out of the Barracks, in a steady march. Raynor and Yates were waiting for them, and a few smiles went around the group. Stepping forward, Raynor appraised them. and then nodded, his smile lingering a moment before he forcibly shrugged it off. "Glad to see you, boys. Let's kick us some serious butt. Let's get our game faces on." At this, everyone in the rigid columns came to attention. "We've just gotten a report that Backwater Station is under attack by the same critters that paid us a visit last night. We're going to go see if we can save them. Any questions?" As expected, there were none. Keller's group was well-trained, and extensively disciplined. "Our destination is three clicks north of here. Let's get a move on."
They all set out, Raynor pausing just long enough to hop onto his Vulture speeder. They all moved surprisingly fast for the armor that was weighing them down, and Yates felt a surge of pride that these fine men represented the best of the best on Mar Sara. Double-timing it all the way, they made it to the outskirts of the small outland station by 08:30. They could see a few bunkers, but no other signs of life, alien or otherwise. Something about the ground, though. gave them pause. "What the hell is that stuff?" Raynor gasped, thoroughly disgusted at the purplish goop that littered the ground before them. "It almost looks like the ground there is alive!"
Bare seconds after those words were out of his mouth, six of the dog-like critters from the night before popped out of the ground, close to a decidedly alien-looking building. They ran toward the marines, closing the distance far too quickly. But this time, the marines were expecting trouble, and not one of them got close enough to cause any harm. 'Here we go again,' Keller thought grimly. Waving a hand around him, he and his troops now surrounded the alien structure. "Let's toast this thing!" he shouted, the last part of it drowned out as thirty-eight gauss rifles and one frag grenade launcher opened up on it. It didn't last long, collapsing into itself with a fleshy squish. The effect, though not expected, was profound. Instantly, the purple goo began to dissolve. as though it were disintegrating from under their very feet.
Once the immediate threat was taken care of, the troops moved cautiously into the area, looking about for survivors. Casting a glance at the scarred and damaged bunkers, Raynor turned thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm," he muttered, almost to himself. "These bunkers have been out here awhile. but they still could be pretty useful if another attack comes. Sergeant Keller, search for survivors." At once, the marine squadron spread out, searching. and then a faint sound came to them. One purely mechanical in nature: the unlocking of doors, coming from the three bunkers around them. Three civilians in SCVs came out of one, and from the other two emerged four Firebats. They all scurried up to Raynor and Yates, relief plain on their helmeted faces.
"Wow, thanks a lot for the rescue!" the lead SCV said, his voice trembling from fear and adrenaline. "We've been holed up in these things for days, hiding from those monstrous Zerg!" The other two SCV pilots nodded, apparently too stunned to even speak at the moment, which was just as well. Raynor, having finally a name to associate with the critters, paused again in contemplative thought. 'Zerg, eh?' he thought. 'Well, now we 'least know what they are. But we still don't know why they're here. Great.'
The firebats went right to Keller and his group, offering their assistance, clearly wanting to give some back to the monsters that nearly killed them. "Need a light?" their leader - one Corporal Jason Chen - asked, stopping before Keller and crisply saluting him. Keller looked the four firebats up and down, apprising them. It seemed they had seen a bit of battle as of late. Their armor had scratches in it, alongside with what appeared to be acid burns. One of the firebats seemed to have a broken arm, but he was still willing and able to fight. So Keller nodded, and motioned for them to join the marines. The now larger group continued to fan out through the deserted station, passing a barracks, an engineering bay, three more empty bunkers, and finally arriving at another command center.
The command center itself was heavily damaged, sparking and smoking every few minutes from a myriad of holes blown into the side of the structure. Eyes widening, Keller recognized the danger posed to himself and the men, and barked: "Get the hell away from this thing! She's gonna blow!" They all turned and ran. most of them getting out of the explosion radius. But seven of them got caught in the Vespene explosion, torn to shreds as the command center blew sky-high. Fragments of metal mixed with torn shards of human flesh rained down all around them, and Keller winced at the smell of charred wires. Regrouping, and slightly toasted, the marines all had looks of anger on their faces. They would get the alien assholes that did this to them.
** ** **
Witnessing the explosion, Raynor and Yates hurried over to the group, assessing casualties with equal looks of concern. The SCVs followed them, wincing when they saw that the command center had exploded. "Aw, great." one of them grumbled, thinking of how long it would take to rebuild the thing. Command centers didn't get built overnight, you know. it took at least a day and a half to build them, even though they were pre-fabricated. They were just that large. Shuffling about disgustedly, they began to pick up the debris of the blast, gathering it in a heap of twisted junk at the northern edge of the station. Raynor and Yates, however, had more pressing things to attend to. Like the fact that seven of Keller's best men got caught in the explosion and veritably shredded.
Addressing Keller himself now, Yates saluted him. As the sergeant returned it, Yates spoke. his voice soft and full of concern. "Sergeant Keller, you and your unit have my utmost condolences for this dreadful accident." He paused a moment, noticing a haunted look come briefly over Keller's normally stoic features. "There will be a memorial service for them at 17:00 tonight." At Keller's nod, Yates walked slowly over to where the command center once stood. As he stood there gazing down at the smoky black hole, his wrist-communicator beeped. Raising it to his lips, he tapped the activation switch. "Yates," he said, devoid of emotion.
'Uh, Commander,' came the frail, tinny voice on the other end. It sounded familiar, but at first couldn't place it. then he knew. PFC Miller, the one manning the ComSat controls back at his complex. 'I, uh, sir, the ComSat's going crazy. I'm picking up a whole lot of alien life-forms. and they're all heading your way!' At this, Yates froze. So, for that matter, did everyone else within earshot of the Commander's communicator. 'I'm detecting, uh, about. forty to fifty different signatures. Watch it, sir! They're way too close to you. off to your east a bit!' Grimly, Yates waited until Miller finished his report, then closed the link.
"Well, it seems the creeps that did this are coming back for more." Raynor muttered, wheeling his speeder up to Yates. "Should I go get 'em?" Yates looked at him a moment, some unknown communication passing between the two with the locking of their eyes. Then he nodded. Raynor tore his bike off down the dirt hill to the east of Backwater, and almost before he knew it the surviving marines and the firebats were hot on his tail. They were clearly mad, having just suffered a loss to their ranks. Damn straight they were gonna get revenge. With cries of anger and rage, they plowed down the hill after Raynor, running across a shallow valley, and then up another not-so-steep hill.
The monsters were already there, waiting for them. Almost thirty of the small dog-like things - soon known as Zerglings -, but behind them were monsters that closely resembled snakes - soon known as Hydralisks - only they slithered upright, and had a wicked set of teeth and claws that resembled scythes. As the dog-things ran forward to engage the marines, the snake-things slithered a bit closer, then stopped. some weird chamber in their midsections opening. A moment later, over the din of alien cries and machine-gun fire, the snakes began to spit out a series of diamond-hard spikes, coated with and dripping in a highly corrosive acid. These spikes flew over the heads of the dogs, splashing against the armor plating of the marines. Becoming lodged in the armor, the acid began to slowly eat away. but the marines just kept firing.
After a bloody battle, the dog-things all lay dead. and one of the snakes had fallen too. But even worse, was that ten more marines lay dead as well, their bodies literally torn to pieces by the ravenous monsters. Reforming quickly, Keller and his men tore into the snakes with a vicious fury, hailing down round after round of machine gun fire. As three more marines fell, finally the snakes fell as well. beaten, dead. Pausing to catch his breath, Keller looked about. What he saw distressed him. Only seventeen marines were left standing. plus the four firebats, and Marshal Raynor. But even Raynor had not gotten away unharmed, as his Vulture was hissing acrid smoke from a dozen holes.
Soon enough, the smoke cleared. and the survivors pressed on, searching for more attackers. They didn't find any more. but they did encounter two more of those odd purple-goo-generating buildings, which they quickly obliterated. As the ground slowly returned to normal, one of the marines that happened to be looking around him caught sight of something. A command center, it looked like. only not. It looked like a cross between a command center and a massive chunk of alien flesh. Calling Keller's attention, the Private pointed it out. "Aw, man." Keller grumbled, at the sight of it. It literally sickened him. "What the hell did those things do to that command center?"
Raynor finally got his bike to stop hissing and smoking, and got a good look for himself. Definitely unusual. "Whatever it is, it ain't natural," he growled. "Let's burn it down, boys." With grim-faced determination, the troops all marched up to within weapons range of it, and unleashed all their fury upon it. Hundreds of bullets tore holes into the fleshy part, and then bit through and shredded metal like it were paper. Similarly, four pairs of trusty Perdition flamethrowers were quickly charring the lower levels, while Raynor's frag grenades took large chunks out at once with concussive explosions that shook the entire structure. After several minutes of constant fire, the gauss rifles soon clicked on empty, and the firebats stepped back as the twisted building collapsed in on itself with a low rumble. A job well done.
** ** **
When Yates joined them, they were talking amongst themselves, glad now that their region was finally safe. The time was now 09:45. Raynor had gotten Miller to do another ComSat sweep, and the entire area had come up negative for any aliens. So, they were safe now. They were all still trying to figure out just WHAT those things had done to the building they just destroyed, when three dropships screamed in overhead. Turning their heads to follow them, they all watched as the ships landed nearby. General Duke himself, escorted by a phalanx of some twenty-odd heavily armed marines, disembarked from the transports, and began to walk slowly over to them. Motioning the marines to wait, Duke walked to Raynor, staring him down face- to-face. The older man's expression was one of livid anger.
"Marshal Raynor," he began, his voice just as nasally, if not more so, than it had been in the communications feed earlier that morning. though now only barely managing to conceal his rage. "By destroyin' that vital Confederate installation, you and your men have violated standin' colonial law. As of right now, you're all under arrest. I suggest that you boys throw down your weapons, and come peaceably." He motioned for the marines behind him now to take the militia into custody. Single-mindedly, they did so. and began first by arresting Keller, and his men. Handcuffs were slapped onto them, locked with nearly a dozen ratchety clicks. Then the prisoners were moved off toward the dropships.
When they came for Raynor, he shook them off, moving closer to Duke. furious himself. "Are you outta your frickin' mind, General?!" He was all but shouting now, his face a lively color of red. Another few marines tried to cuff him, but again he shook them off, shaking his finger first at the remains of the command center, then at Duke. "If we hadn't burned down that damned building, this entire colony could have been overrun! Maybe if you and your goons hadn't taken your sweet time in getting here." He was cut off abruptly, as now five marines had come up behind him, finally managing to slap handcuffs on his broad wrists, pinning them behind him and holding him immobile.
Moving right into Raynor's face, Duke sneered with an expression of utter contempt. "Now I asked you nice the first time, boy. I didn't come here to talk with you. I came here to arrest you. You're comin' with me!" And with that he turned around, leading the way back to the dropships. The procession of prisoners, now in custody, proceeded to board the dropships, forcefully prodded along by the expressionless Confederate marines. Glaring daggers into the back of Duke's head, Raynor looked back at Yates a moment, shrugging. Yates nodded, then turned and headed back along the three-click hike back to Wasteland Station. He wouldn't just sit for this, oh no. He was quite intent on filing a formal protest with the egotistical General Duke, and if he was ignored, then he would go over his head.
Raynor turned back toward the dropships, which were getting larger now. "I guess you wouldn't be a Confederate if you weren't a total pain in our asses," he muttered as he was forced aboard. A few minutes later, the dropships lifted off. heading back toward the Confederate blockade fleet in high orbit above. Raynor knew that his next stop would be the deep-space prison ship known as the Incarcerator. 'Oh, man.' he thought grimly. 'What am I gonna do now?'
**Wasteland Patrol** Perimeter Patrol, Wasteland Site Confederate Border Colony Mar Sara
A lone military-style dune buggy bumped and practically crawled along the dirt roads all around the Wasteland site. They were left behind, to maintain a patrol for any more of the creatures now known as the Zerg. They had retrieved a body, at Commander Yates' orders, and had analyzed it. The small dog-like critters were now called Zerglings. Inside the buggy were two people: Corporal Lester Walkens, and Sergeant Troy Hamblin, or just plain 'Sarge'. A deep, heavy-metalish music exploded from the speakers of the vehicle. and poor Lester was rubbing his ears in pain. "Hey, Sarge, why do we always gotta listen to this shit for, anyway?" he asked, wincing as it hit a hard note, making his head hurt.
Sarge, who was driving, looked over at him briefly, irritated. A cigarette was in his mouth, and he took a puff of it. but at least he turned the ear-splitting music down a few notches. "'Cause I'm in charge, that's why." Reaching a fork in the road, he turned the wheel to the right, and the buggy turned perfectly. Still nothing to see. nothing but dirt and desolation. No monsters, no life of any kind. They were well away now from the primary Wasteland Station, and it had long ago vanished behind one of the many dunes that littered the area. Lester looked grateful now that the music was down some, but he still grimaced a bit.
"Aw, that don't seem like no good kinda reason to me," he muttered, glancing at Sarge and then looking back ahead. "You ain't my boss anyway. hey, what's that?" He stopped, having seen something small scurrying directly across their path.
Sarge saw it too, putting his foot down on the gas, speeding up the buggy. "It's gonna be a hood ornament, in a second..." Holding the steering wheel dead steady, a puff of smoke escaped his nose as he shouted: "Steam roller!" A second later, the buggy hit a solid object, and came to a stop. Curious to see what they'd hit, the two stepped out, walking around to the front of the buggy, which was now hissing and popping as the engine tried to cool down. Bending down, they took a look at what was jammed under the radiator.
Lester spoke first, not having a clue as to what was there. "Aw man. looks like you mashed some poor fella's dog, Sarge." He had no idea that this was in fact an alien monster. or that it was by no means alone.
Recognizing it for what it was, Sarge clarified him. "It's no dog. it's a Zergling, Lester. a smaller type of Zerg." He thought a moment, one hand scratching his head. Something just didn't seem right, but he couldn't nail it down. "But wait a minute, he wouldn't be out this far, unless." Almost at the same instant, he heard a chorus of roars behind him. "Aw shit!" The two were on their feet in a flash, wheeling toward the sound. Surrounding the vehicle were four Hydralisks, blocking off their escape. And they looked mad.
Lester only had time to get out one phrase before the merciless Zerg charged them: "I love you, Sarge." and then, seconds later, the two were dead. having never gotten a chance to warn anyone about what they'd seen.
-Desperate Alliances- Command Center of the Colonial Magistrate Mar Sara Colony, Capital City 12:05 SCT, 13 Dec 2499
Knowing a short time later that Wasteland Station was in danger, that the Zerg would never stop harassing it, Commander Yates ordered an immediate evacuation. setting all the structures to self-destruct, and then high- tailing it back to the main capital of Mar Sara. Before they all left, though, Yates had taken the time to transmit his protest with the Confederacy as to how Raynor, Keller, and Keller's men had been unfairly treated, sending it directly to Tarsonis through the Holo-CommNet. As of the time they had left, there had been no response. They abandoned Wasteland Station at 10:57, fifteen minutes after the horribly mutilated bodies from the patrol were discovered.
With all the remaining personnel using dune buggies, ATVs, and Vulture transports, they cut straight through the mountains, reaching the capital in far less time than it should normally have taken them. Yates was thoroughly incensed that all of the troops he had taken with him to Wasteland had been arrested, on the charge of treason: namely, willful destruction of Confederate property, and sedition. though the sedition part was as much a lie as to the fact that the Zerg weren't alien. And they were not known for their leniency in such matters. as they destroyed one of the core worlds, known as Korhal, with nearly four million nuclear weapons almost twenty-five years ago to quash a rebellion forming there. Some Korhalian senator, Angus Mengsk, was behind that rebellion. Though Yates wasn't sure.
Once back to the capital, though. Yates' mind eased a little bit. Here, in the center of the colony world, he was not defenseless. They had built quite a nice little city here. complete with many, many marines, firebats, and Vulture pilots for defense. This was a secure city. well protected against all but the heaviest attacks. This was where Yates felt at home. Not out there, in the wilderness, dealing with unknown monsters that now carried the name 'Zerg'. But here, surrounded by loyal troops, officers, and several thousand tons of bristling firepower. He strolled about the city, moving slowly, in no hurry to get back to the command center just yet. He enjoyed these inspection tours, the way everyone would snap to attention at the sight of him. 'Now these,' he thought as he walked, 'are well-disciplined men.'
Only the Vulture pilots seemed to show hesitation at saluting him. but this didn't surprise him. 'Roughnecks', they were often called. Both for their seeming lack of much discipline, and for their cavalier attitude about anything they were asked or ordered to do. They were not unknown to curse at their superiors, though most overlooked this. Yates, however, did not take too kindly to being addressed that way. So he had quickly banned curses at superiors from his ranks. And surprisingly enough, they seemed to be adhering to that coda. For the moment, anyway. The arrival of the Zerg may well have thrown a wrench into that. Oh well, only time would tell.
As his inspection tour ended, he headed back toward the command center, intent on checking to see if anyone had yet replied to the message he sent Tarsonis-ward. The command center here was slightly larger than they usually were, as the construction people had wanted to make it clear that this building was the city's seat of power. Only problem was, if anyone attacked, that would be their first target. the largest structure around. This time, there was an elevator to take. as the control room was not at the bottom level of the building. but this time, nearly the center, to protect it behind layers and layers of outside walls. He got in the elevator, and pressed the special button dedicated to 'command level'. The lift slowly rose, slipping quietly upward through the technological wizardry that lined the structure's core.
** ** **
When his conveyance finally reached the desired level, the doors opened with a soft 'swoosh', and he stepped out. Just ahead, was the control room. The thick, armored double doors were open, and technicians came and went. He stepped into it, and saw that nearly every console, every monitor, was alight and manned. Glancing briefly at the ComSat monitor, he watched as it went through a few radar sweeps, searching for any intruders and finding none. Then his eyes swept the rest of the room briefly, looking for any familiar faces. He saw none. PFC Miller, the good 'ol chess player, was off- duty at the moment, most likely sleeping somewhere in the barracks. His mind was wandering now, when a ping from the computer brought him back to reality. Incoming message. The avatar came online. 'Receiving incoming transmission, Magistrate. Com-link established.'
Yates crossed to that station, watching to see who it was, and what they would say. He had a feeling it was someone on Tarsonis, some representative of the Confederacy. But he wasn't expecting to see the man whom he now loathed. General Duke himself appeared on the monitor. And he wasn't happy. 'I've got your message, Magistrate.' he began, in his oh-so-annoying drawl. 'and quite frankly, I don't really care about what you have to say about Confederate regulations. You damned fringe-world yokels are all alike. don't know where your loyalties lie. You have a real good day now, y'hear?' With that, the screen went dark a moment. Yates was now angry too. Duke had just brushed them off, thinking they were disloyal to the Confederacy. Yeah, right.
Interrupting his thoughts, the friendly female computer spoke once more. 'Transmission ended, Magistrate. The report you requested is ready.' There was a slight pause, and then numbers and data began pouring over another monitor, lising information. 'Sixteen outland stations have reported sightings of the alien invaders identified as Zerg,' the computer continued. Yates briefly watched the data, and it was unnerving. 'The Confederates have arrested all militia forces that participated in the attack on Backwater Station, and continue to avoid action against the Zerg. Three other stations have fallen to the Zerg already. We've been unable to locate any source of military relief, except.' Another pause. Yates wasn't too sure he liked the computer's pauses, even though it was sentient. Machines just weren't supposed to have hesitation. 'The extremist faction known as the Sons of Korhal. Their liason, Arcturus Mengsk, is holding on- line.'
A new face now came on the monitor that Duke had occupied a few moments before. A man in his fifties, with grayish-black hair worn short in the military style, and with a dark gray beard. Arcturus Mengsk, son of Angus Mengsk, the rebellious Senator from Korhal. that led to the Confederacy's destruction of that world. "Good day, Magistrate. My name is Arcturus Mengsk, and I represent the Sons of Korhal. You're probably familiar with the Confederate propoganda that surrounds my group. but your reputation suggests to me that you'll see past it." Yates nodded, having heard QUITE a few choice things about this little group. The Confederacy was hunting them day and night, trying to hem them in and eliminate them. But also, Mengsk was right. Yates did indeed see past the propoganda.
Touching the control that activated the transmitter, Yates decided to reply. "Good day to you, Mr. Mengsk," he said, giving a short nod to the other man. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit surprised that you're even here. or talking to me, for that matter. I would have thought that you would worry about Confederate intercepts, or our new little problem." At this, Mengsk laughed softly, but it was a dry, almost tired laugh. Apparently, Mengsk wasn't worried about either one. but he DID know about the Zerg. Which led Yates to wonder exactly what he knew, and where he gained that knowledge from.
"Ah, yes. the Zerg," Mengsk continued, after his tired laughter finally trailed off. "Ordinarily, we hop about from place to place. it's never been our policy to operate in any one place for a long period of time. But the Zerg don't look like they're going to wait. It seems we have to deal with them. And by the looks of things, you've already been dealing with them quite a bit." The man paused, running the fingers of his right hand through his short, well-kept beard. When he spoke again, his eyes had a bit of fire in them. "I'm going to make you an offer, Magistrate. I'd like to help you get out of here, by sending a number of Dropships to your colony, and evacuating any survivors. I had heard that the Confederates confiscated all your ships."
Yates nodded once more, his expression one of barely suppressed anger. "Indeed they did, damn them." His fists were tightly clenched, and his fingernails, though short, were digging into his palms. "All we did was save Backwater Station from a Zerg attack, and destroy this odd mutation. looked like a combination between a command center and something biological. I wouldn't be surprised if those critters had something to do with it. And for all our trouble, that bastard Duke arrested all my forces at Wasteland Station!" His tenuous control over his temper was edging closer and closer to the breaking point as he poured all his rage into the rant he was now making. But after a moment, he calmed down slightly, and looked back up to the screen. "You'd help us? You'd send us some ships to help us evacuate?"
Looking face-to-face, eye-to-eye, Mengsk nodded without any hesitation. "Of course we'll help you. The Confederates would just leave you here to die. while we are honorable people. But you know of course, that my organization operates outside the boundaries of Confederate law. That's why they spread their lies and disinformation. If you accept our help, you'll be branded as an outlaw too. might even lose your colony. But, it's a chance to save those people that you ordinarily might not have gotten. It's time to make a stand for what you believe in, Magistrate." Mengsk turned away from the screen for a moment, and spoke a few orders to an officer off behind him and to his right. An instant later, the officer was gone from the view. "All right, Magistrate. I've ordered ten dropships to launch immediately. They're heading your way as we speak."
Yates smiled now, the first truly grateful smile he had felt in a long time. "My thanks to you, sir," he spoke, his voice now calm and collected once more. "But, I wonder if I could impose one more thing.?" He paused, waiting. At Mengsk's attention, and silence, he continued. "Could you locate the Confederate Prison Ship that they took my militia to? They were the best of the best here, and having them back would be a great use. I hope I'm not asking too much."
Smiling widely, and making a dismissive gesture, Mengsk laughed a bit. "Oh, no, not at all, Magistrate. I know the prison ship you speak of. the Incarcerator. Almost everyone in my organization is familiar with her. A Battlecruiser, only stripped down to bare essentials for mass prisoner containment." A scowl came over his face, almost belying a deep seated hatred of the Confederacy and its ways. But it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and Mengsk smiled again. "Not to worry, sir. We'll have your men free in no time at all. Leave it to us. Good luck with the evacuation. Mengsk out." He reached forward and terminated the link. and once more the monitor went dark.
** ** **
Three minutes later, the avatar finally returned. 'Ending transmission now, Magistrate. Detecting Sons of Korhal dropships on low orbital approach. ETA: 30 minutes. Hold. please wait. new signal on sensors. Prority Alert! Capital city under attack by Zerg forces. Distress beacon activated at 12:20.' At this, everyone in the room flew into a frenzy. Officers were shouting out things to others, and even to Yates. Yates, in turn, was barking orders of his own, marshaling together all the militia that the city had to offer, and ordering them to defend the city. Then turning to the ComSat sensor screen, Yates saw something that made his blood run cold. The city itself, all sprawled out as it was, was a grouping of green dots. But now, at the northeast and northwestern entrances, a massive army of orange dots had massed, and were pressing against the green dots like an evil flood.
Running through the bowels of the command center once more, Yates stopped off briefly at the armory, this time taking a C-35 pulse rifle. The old gauss rifles were good, but this new pulser was even better. since the pulses of proton energy were extremely destructive against biological matter. Quickly donning a suit of armor, he barged out of the main doors and down the ramp of the building. and emerged on the shores of Hell itself. Already all of the city's defenders were arrayed, the howl of hundreds of machine-guns roaring into the sky. becoming almost deafening. The attacking horde consisted of similarly hundreds of Zerglings, dozens of Hydralisks, and some as yet unknown flying monstrosity, that looked like a giant worm with wings. Shouting a battle cry, not about to let his city fall to these alien invaders, he ran forward to join his men.
He reached one of the forward bunkers, quickly slipping inside. There were three marines in here with him, and they gave him a quick and grateful acknowledgement before they all returned to their task: beating back the attackers. After a short but bloody battle, the invaders were beaten down, and they had a brief respite. Taking a moment to assess damage, Yates stepped out of the bunker, looking around. A vulture pulled up beside him, pointing back to the building he just came out of. "Hey, Magistrate," the hippie yelled. "This bunker's on fire! You oughta' get an SCV out here to repair it. and have him fix my bike up too, while he's at it!"
'I never did like these guys and their arrogance.' Yates thought sourly, but he did patch into his helmet comm, ordering three SCVs to be diverted to damage control duty. Obediently, three of them detached from their previous tasks, bringing their fusion welders to bear instead on repairing gashes, sealing holes, and bringing damaged systems back to operational capability. It was slow, and it was tedious. but after many long minutes, the bunkers were repaired. So, too, was the grumpy pilot's speeder bike. The computer, almost just in time, sounded an alert over the loudspeakers. 'Dropship arrival in ten minutes,' it said, the female voice echoing around the city. 'Warning: ComSat scans indicate additional Zerg forces en route, ETA two minutes. All personnel, remain at battle readiness.'
Hearing this, Yates double-timed it back into his bunker, peeking out. Around and behind him, two of the detached SCVs began to construct new bunkers from pre-fab packs in the command center. but even so, it would take them time to set them up. It took about five minutes for one SCV to set up one bunker kit. And the hostiles were coming in three minutes sooner than that. 'So that means we just buy those guys time to get those things set up,' he thought at last. 'And we will do it!' Crouching down beside the marines in the bunker, he checked the load on his machine-gun, nodding with satisfaction. Plenty of U-238 slugs left, plenty to empty into those monstrous carcasses. With a bloodthirsty grin, he settled in to wait. He wouldn't be waiting long.
And sure enough, exactly two minutes later, the second wave of Zerg arrived, and began to take potshots at the city's defenders. The defenders, in turn, responded in kind. blowing Zergling after Zergling after Hydralisk into tiny chunks of chitin and flesh. One of the outermost bunkers was destroyed, and its inhabitants torn into millions of shreds by the rampaging swarm. But those just behind the destroyed building shrieked in fury, and redoubled their efforts. In just under three minutes, the second wave was exterminated. The two rear-guard bunkers were completed, and reinforcements were loaded into them.
As the SCVs once more began to repair the damage caused, which was mostly confined to a few missile launchers and bunkers, the computer ran another scanner sweep. Again, it broadcast an update over the city loudspeakers. 'Attention. Dropship ETA now five minutes. All personnel, remain at battle stations.' It paused a moment, then terminated its link to the city loudspeakers, instead hailing Yates' communicator. 'Magistrate,' it said, voice now hushed but still loud enough. 'Sensor analysis shows that it may be possible to break through the Zerg defenses, and reach Mengsk's dropships ahead of their ETA.'
Yates was on his feet again like a shot. He activated his comm, and spoke back to the computer. "How, computer? Give me coordinates. Patch the latest scan sweep through to my helmet visor." A few moments later, the computer complied. and the tough man studied the scan results. 'Ingenious,' he thought to himself. The scans had been coordinated, expertly picking out the major elements of a Zerg encampment nearby. But it clearly showed, just to the northeast and maybe less than a click away, a relatively uninfested passage that headed right toward the oncoming dropships. 'It's a bit dicey, but I think we can manage it.' he mused. "Acknowledged, computer." With that, he cut his comm, then reactivated it, broadcasting to all the city's defenders.
"Attention all forces!" he spoke, instantly drawing everyone's ear to his words. "There is a possibility we can hammer through the Zerg's defenses, and meet the dropships halfway here. All those who wish to take part in this risky charge, activate your comms and say aye!" At the same instant, he turned his headset audio down. which was a good thing, because a reply came back with a tumultuous "AYE!!" from just about every person in the entire city. "All right," Yates said, taking charge again. He distributed the ComSat scans to all the marines, giving them a moment to study it. "It's time we take the fight to them. All personnel, form up outside the bunkers."
They hurried to comply, bloodlust evident in their eyes. They didn't like hiding in bunkers. they'd much rather be out in the thick of it, fighting for their lives. Now Yates stood before them. "Okay, men. from here on out we fight our way through. Say goodbye to the city, it's likely we'll never see it again." Giving a moment for silent goodbyes, he turned back to face the direction they would go, and raised his rifle. "All right, everyone. CHARGE!!!" And that second, as though a live wire had been touched to them, all the surviving inhabitants of Mar Sara's capital lurched into motion, brandishing weapons and running headlong into impending combat.
The Zerg met them almost a click away, and the two forces clashed violently. Heads flew, blood and acid sprayed the sand and rock around them, arms and legs were vaporized or eaten away by acidic poison. Behind them the command center floated along, low and massive. Its great size prevented it from moving too fast. but at least it was there, and the rapidly advancing troop was protecting it. The sensor station in the command center kept scanning as they went, and dutifully noted and logged each and every casualty, on both sides. Eventually, the Zerg forces were broken and shattered, and in full retreat. The attacking marines cheered, relieved that they had been victorious. that maybe now they were safe.
At the exact same instant of the computer's announcement to the effect of 'We've broken through to the dropships.', the survivors (only reduced to three-fourths of their original strength) sighted the bright red ships swooping down from the sky to meet them. The ships, eight in all, spotted the refugees, and settled down to the ground softly in front of them. All the ramps of the ships came down, and the pilot of the lead ship appeared, her face haggard, to call them in. "C'mon in, and strap yourselves in, boys. We gotta get o'selves out of here."
After scrambling into the ships, all the survivors quickly bundled up, securing themselves tightly in place. The ships took off again, flying hell for leather for high orbit. and a rendezvous with Arcturus Mengsk himself on the Sons of Korhal flagship, Hyperion.
A/N: Sorry that took so long! College is getting in the way, and it was hard going to write two chapters in one section. Hope you like, though! R/R! ^_^
-Chapter Two: Backwater Station-
Command Center of the Colonial Magistrate Mar Sara Colony, Wasteland Site 07:12 SCT, 13 Dec 2499
With the Wasteland Station firmly established the night before, Yates, Raynor, and the militia had retired, leaving a small platoon of troops to patrol the perimeter. ordering that constant vigilance be maintained in the event of more alien attacks. But no more came, thankfully, and awakening at 06:30, Yates had eaten breakfast in the messhall. Eggs and toast, not too bad. Again, it was far better than the rations they were stuck with before. Getting a few good cooks into the complex had done wonders for morale. Once the breakfast was finished, he moved outside the mammoth command center, walking about outside for a short time.
Taking a small and leisurely stroll around the small complex, he passed by the Supply Depots with their massive air-conditioner fans. then by the Academy, then past the Vespene refinery, where a few SCVs came and went, taking bits of the valuable gas with them. Finally, when he reached the Barracks, Marshal Raynor came out to meet him. The two shook hands, both with grins on their faces, and Yates kept walking, Raynor by his side. "Hey, what's up, man?" he drawled, still smiling. "Sergeant Keller and I got yer refugees tucked in nice and snug. Provided we can sidestep anymore surprises from the Confederates, and if we can keep them away from those damned alien critters, they should have an easy time."
Nodding once, Yates agreed. "Indeed. does anyone have a clue as to just what those things were?" he asked, coming to a stop and watching Raynor for a response. The marshal shook his head, looking slightly irritated. "Hmm, figures." Yates continued, and the two men set to walking once more. They walked about the perimeter of the complex, and before long found themselves back at the entrance to the command center. Stepping in, with Raynor right behind him, he decided to head to the control room. "Marshal, have Sergeant Keller retrieve one of the bodies, and tell him to take it to the lab, so it can be analyzed. The sooner we know what these things are, the better."
"I couldn't agree with you more, Commander." Raynor replied, his drawl as thick as ever. "I'll have 'im work on it." He would have said more, but before he could, Yates' wrist communicator went off with a shrill alarm. Mere seconds later, the entire building went to alert status, as the steady lighting began to pulse in angry red flashes. 'Priority alert! Priority alert!' the main computer squawked. Looking at each other for the briefest of seconds, Raynor and Yates tore off at a run now, hurrying to the control room two levels below them. When they reached it, the doors were already open. and it was fully staffed now. PFC Miller was seated at the ComSat radar screen, frantically scanning it for any source of impending danger.
Stepping to the main computer interface terminal, Yates requested a tactical update on what was going on. The android-ish avatar was already there, and seemed to immediately dispense with its usual pleasantries. 'Priority alert,' it said again. 'Backwater Station, located three kilometers to our north, is under attack by unknown alien organisms.' A sharp gasp whistled through Raynor's teeth. He had a clue about what was attacking them. and he didn't like it. Most likely, the same things they'd dealt with just last night. 'Distress beacon detected, activated at 06:58. Alerting Confederate headquarters on Tarsonis. response detected. Stand by for incoming transmission.'
The avatar went blank. A minute or so later, the face of the aged general - Edmund Duke, was his name - appeared in the screen. Not a recorded transmission. this was a live feed, directly from Tarsonis, which was far away from little Mar Sara. Raynor, Yates, and the rest of the room's occupants watched quietly, listening to the General's message. 'We've already received the distress beacon from Backwater, and we'll move in to take care of it.' Most of the faces watching went from interest to disdain in a matter of seconds. 'You just sit tight where you are, and you'll be notified if there's anything we think that you need to know.' The screen went blank, leaving a heavy silence in the wake of the message. The computer's avatar returned, quiet, emotionless.
Raynor slammed his hands angrily on the console. "Damn him!" He whirled on Yates, fire in his eyes. He hated that General. anyone with any sense hated him. "Listen, Magistrate, if we wait for Confederate reinforcements, that station's gonna be dust." Around the room, there were silent nods of agreement, but none dared speak, afraid of incurring Raynor's wrath. "I'll head out there now, see what I can do," Raynor continued, moving to exit the room. "You send in some militia with me, and we'll save those folks. Trust me on it." And so he left, and the heavy double doors slid slowly shut behind him.
Yates was frozen a moment more, looking after him. Then with a grim determination, he turned back to the console, activating the communicator. "Sergeant Keller, form up your squad and meet Marshal Raynor outside in five minutes. We have a mission." Cutting off the terminal, he hurried out of the room. Grabbing a gauss rifle from the armory on his way out, he practically ran toward the entrance, hoping to catch up with Raynor. He did, just as the Marshal was walking down the ramp that led up to the command center. "Jim, wait up!" he called. Raynor stopped, turned around, and smiled as Yates moved to his side. "I'll come with you."
** ** **
"All right, men," Keller barked, his deep baritone voice echoing throughout the Barracks. Every head, every pair of eyes in the room was riveted on him now. "Commander wants us to form up an assault squad and meet the Marshal in five minutes." He paused, waiting a moment, to see if anyone would complain. After all, it was rather early in the morning. But not one word came back to him. "So let's move it, ladies! Four minutes to go!" At his shout, the room quickly because a surge of action as nearly three dozen marines rose from whatever they were doing. A loud metallic clanking filled the air as suit of armor after suit of armor was donned. Rifle after rifle was loaded, cocked, then checked.
And then, precisely on schedule, the thirty-seven marines tromped out of the Barracks, in a steady march. Raynor and Yates were waiting for them, and a few smiles went around the group. Stepping forward, Raynor appraised them. and then nodded, his smile lingering a moment before he forcibly shrugged it off. "Glad to see you, boys. Let's kick us some serious butt. Let's get our game faces on." At this, everyone in the rigid columns came to attention. "We've just gotten a report that Backwater Station is under attack by the same critters that paid us a visit last night. We're going to go see if we can save them. Any questions?" As expected, there were none. Keller's group was well-trained, and extensively disciplined. "Our destination is three clicks north of here. Let's get a move on."
They all set out, Raynor pausing just long enough to hop onto his Vulture speeder. They all moved surprisingly fast for the armor that was weighing them down, and Yates felt a surge of pride that these fine men represented the best of the best on Mar Sara. Double-timing it all the way, they made it to the outskirts of the small outland station by 08:30. They could see a few bunkers, but no other signs of life, alien or otherwise. Something about the ground, though. gave them pause. "What the hell is that stuff?" Raynor gasped, thoroughly disgusted at the purplish goop that littered the ground before them. "It almost looks like the ground there is alive!"
Bare seconds after those words were out of his mouth, six of the dog-like critters from the night before popped out of the ground, close to a decidedly alien-looking building. They ran toward the marines, closing the distance far too quickly. But this time, the marines were expecting trouble, and not one of them got close enough to cause any harm. 'Here we go again,' Keller thought grimly. Waving a hand around him, he and his troops now surrounded the alien structure. "Let's toast this thing!" he shouted, the last part of it drowned out as thirty-eight gauss rifles and one frag grenade launcher opened up on it. It didn't last long, collapsing into itself with a fleshy squish. The effect, though not expected, was profound. Instantly, the purple goo began to dissolve. as though it were disintegrating from under their very feet.
Once the immediate threat was taken care of, the troops moved cautiously into the area, looking about for survivors. Casting a glance at the scarred and damaged bunkers, Raynor turned thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm," he muttered, almost to himself. "These bunkers have been out here awhile. but they still could be pretty useful if another attack comes. Sergeant Keller, search for survivors." At once, the marine squadron spread out, searching. and then a faint sound came to them. One purely mechanical in nature: the unlocking of doors, coming from the three bunkers around them. Three civilians in SCVs came out of one, and from the other two emerged four Firebats. They all scurried up to Raynor and Yates, relief plain on their helmeted faces.
"Wow, thanks a lot for the rescue!" the lead SCV said, his voice trembling from fear and adrenaline. "We've been holed up in these things for days, hiding from those monstrous Zerg!" The other two SCV pilots nodded, apparently too stunned to even speak at the moment, which was just as well. Raynor, having finally a name to associate with the critters, paused again in contemplative thought. 'Zerg, eh?' he thought. 'Well, now we 'least know what they are. But we still don't know why they're here. Great.'
The firebats went right to Keller and his group, offering their assistance, clearly wanting to give some back to the monsters that nearly killed them. "Need a light?" their leader - one Corporal Jason Chen - asked, stopping before Keller and crisply saluting him. Keller looked the four firebats up and down, apprising them. It seemed they had seen a bit of battle as of late. Their armor had scratches in it, alongside with what appeared to be acid burns. One of the firebats seemed to have a broken arm, but he was still willing and able to fight. So Keller nodded, and motioned for them to join the marines. The now larger group continued to fan out through the deserted station, passing a barracks, an engineering bay, three more empty bunkers, and finally arriving at another command center.
The command center itself was heavily damaged, sparking and smoking every few minutes from a myriad of holes blown into the side of the structure. Eyes widening, Keller recognized the danger posed to himself and the men, and barked: "Get the hell away from this thing! She's gonna blow!" They all turned and ran. most of them getting out of the explosion radius. But seven of them got caught in the Vespene explosion, torn to shreds as the command center blew sky-high. Fragments of metal mixed with torn shards of human flesh rained down all around them, and Keller winced at the smell of charred wires. Regrouping, and slightly toasted, the marines all had looks of anger on their faces. They would get the alien assholes that did this to them.
** ** **
Witnessing the explosion, Raynor and Yates hurried over to the group, assessing casualties with equal looks of concern. The SCVs followed them, wincing when they saw that the command center had exploded. "Aw, great." one of them grumbled, thinking of how long it would take to rebuild the thing. Command centers didn't get built overnight, you know. it took at least a day and a half to build them, even though they were pre-fabricated. They were just that large. Shuffling about disgustedly, they began to pick up the debris of the blast, gathering it in a heap of twisted junk at the northern edge of the station. Raynor and Yates, however, had more pressing things to attend to. Like the fact that seven of Keller's best men got caught in the explosion and veritably shredded.
Addressing Keller himself now, Yates saluted him. As the sergeant returned it, Yates spoke. his voice soft and full of concern. "Sergeant Keller, you and your unit have my utmost condolences for this dreadful accident." He paused a moment, noticing a haunted look come briefly over Keller's normally stoic features. "There will be a memorial service for them at 17:00 tonight." At Keller's nod, Yates walked slowly over to where the command center once stood. As he stood there gazing down at the smoky black hole, his wrist-communicator beeped. Raising it to his lips, he tapped the activation switch. "Yates," he said, devoid of emotion.
'Uh, Commander,' came the frail, tinny voice on the other end. It sounded familiar, but at first couldn't place it. then he knew. PFC Miller, the one manning the ComSat controls back at his complex. 'I, uh, sir, the ComSat's going crazy. I'm picking up a whole lot of alien life-forms. and they're all heading your way!' At this, Yates froze. So, for that matter, did everyone else within earshot of the Commander's communicator. 'I'm detecting, uh, about. forty to fifty different signatures. Watch it, sir! They're way too close to you. off to your east a bit!' Grimly, Yates waited until Miller finished his report, then closed the link.
"Well, it seems the creeps that did this are coming back for more." Raynor muttered, wheeling his speeder up to Yates. "Should I go get 'em?" Yates looked at him a moment, some unknown communication passing between the two with the locking of their eyes. Then he nodded. Raynor tore his bike off down the dirt hill to the east of Backwater, and almost before he knew it the surviving marines and the firebats were hot on his tail. They were clearly mad, having just suffered a loss to their ranks. Damn straight they were gonna get revenge. With cries of anger and rage, they plowed down the hill after Raynor, running across a shallow valley, and then up another not-so-steep hill.
The monsters were already there, waiting for them. Almost thirty of the small dog-like things - soon known as Zerglings -, but behind them were monsters that closely resembled snakes - soon known as Hydralisks - only they slithered upright, and had a wicked set of teeth and claws that resembled scythes. As the dog-things ran forward to engage the marines, the snake-things slithered a bit closer, then stopped. some weird chamber in their midsections opening. A moment later, over the din of alien cries and machine-gun fire, the snakes began to spit out a series of diamond-hard spikes, coated with and dripping in a highly corrosive acid. These spikes flew over the heads of the dogs, splashing against the armor plating of the marines. Becoming lodged in the armor, the acid began to slowly eat away. but the marines just kept firing.
After a bloody battle, the dog-things all lay dead. and one of the snakes had fallen too. But even worse, was that ten more marines lay dead as well, their bodies literally torn to pieces by the ravenous monsters. Reforming quickly, Keller and his men tore into the snakes with a vicious fury, hailing down round after round of machine gun fire. As three more marines fell, finally the snakes fell as well. beaten, dead. Pausing to catch his breath, Keller looked about. What he saw distressed him. Only seventeen marines were left standing. plus the four firebats, and Marshal Raynor. But even Raynor had not gotten away unharmed, as his Vulture was hissing acrid smoke from a dozen holes.
Soon enough, the smoke cleared. and the survivors pressed on, searching for more attackers. They didn't find any more. but they did encounter two more of those odd purple-goo-generating buildings, which they quickly obliterated. As the ground slowly returned to normal, one of the marines that happened to be looking around him caught sight of something. A command center, it looked like. only not. It looked like a cross between a command center and a massive chunk of alien flesh. Calling Keller's attention, the Private pointed it out. "Aw, man." Keller grumbled, at the sight of it. It literally sickened him. "What the hell did those things do to that command center?"
Raynor finally got his bike to stop hissing and smoking, and got a good look for himself. Definitely unusual. "Whatever it is, it ain't natural," he growled. "Let's burn it down, boys." With grim-faced determination, the troops all marched up to within weapons range of it, and unleashed all their fury upon it. Hundreds of bullets tore holes into the fleshy part, and then bit through and shredded metal like it were paper. Similarly, four pairs of trusty Perdition flamethrowers were quickly charring the lower levels, while Raynor's frag grenades took large chunks out at once with concussive explosions that shook the entire structure. After several minutes of constant fire, the gauss rifles soon clicked on empty, and the firebats stepped back as the twisted building collapsed in on itself with a low rumble. A job well done.
** ** **
When Yates joined them, they were talking amongst themselves, glad now that their region was finally safe. The time was now 09:45. Raynor had gotten Miller to do another ComSat sweep, and the entire area had come up negative for any aliens. So, they were safe now. They were all still trying to figure out just WHAT those things had done to the building they just destroyed, when three dropships screamed in overhead. Turning their heads to follow them, they all watched as the ships landed nearby. General Duke himself, escorted by a phalanx of some twenty-odd heavily armed marines, disembarked from the transports, and began to walk slowly over to them. Motioning the marines to wait, Duke walked to Raynor, staring him down face- to-face. The older man's expression was one of livid anger.
"Marshal Raynor," he began, his voice just as nasally, if not more so, than it had been in the communications feed earlier that morning. though now only barely managing to conceal his rage. "By destroyin' that vital Confederate installation, you and your men have violated standin' colonial law. As of right now, you're all under arrest. I suggest that you boys throw down your weapons, and come peaceably." He motioned for the marines behind him now to take the militia into custody. Single-mindedly, they did so. and began first by arresting Keller, and his men. Handcuffs were slapped onto them, locked with nearly a dozen ratchety clicks. Then the prisoners were moved off toward the dropships.
When they came for Raynor, he shook them off, moving closer to Duke. furious himself. "Are you outta your frickin' mind, General?!" He was all but shouting now, his face a lively color of red. Another few marines tried to cuff him, but again he shook them off, shaking his finger first at the remains of the command center, then at Duke. "If we hadn't burned down that damned building, this entire colony could have been overrun! Maybe if you and your goons hadn't taken your sweet time in getting here." He was cut off abruptly, as now five marines had come up behind him, finally managing to slap handcuffs on his broad wrists, pinning them behind him and holding him immobile.
Moving right into Raynor's face, Duke sneered with an expression of utter contempt. "Now I asked you nice the first time, boy. I didn't come here to talk with you. I came here to arrest you. You're comin' with me!" And with that he turned around, leading the way back to the dropships. The procession of prisoners, now in custody, proceeded to board the dropships, forcefully prodded along by the expressionless Confederate marines. Glaring daggers into the back of Duke's head, Raynor looked back at Yates a moment, shrugging. Yates nodded, then turned and headed back along the three-click hike back to Wasteland Station. He wouldn't just sit for this, oh no. He was quite intent on filing a formal protest with the egotistical General Duke, and if he was ignored, then he would go over his head.
Raynor turned back toward the dropships, which were getting larger now. "I guess you wouldn't be a Confederate if you weren't a total pain in our asses," he muttered as he was forced aboard. A few minutes later, the dropships lifted off. heading back toward the Confederate blockade fleet in high orbit above. Raynor knew that his next stop would be the deep-space prison ship known as the Incarcerator. 'Oh, man.' he thought grimly. 'What am I gonna do now?'
**Wasteland Patrol** Perimeter Patrol, Wasteland Site Confederate Border Colony Mar Sara
A lone military-style dune buggy bumped and practically crawled along the dirt roads all around the Wasteland site. They were left behind, to maintain a patrol for any more of the creatures now known as the Zerg. They had retrieved a body, at Commander Yates' orders, and had analyzed it. The small dog-like critters were now called Zerglings. Inside the buggy were two people: Corporal Lester Walkens, and Sergeant Troy Hamblin, or just plain 'Sarge'. A deep, heavy-metalish music exploded from the speakers of the vehicle. and poor Lester was rubbing his ears in pain. "Hey, Sarge, why do we always gotta listen to this shit for, anyway?" he asked, wincing as it hit a hard note, making his head hurt.
Sarge, who was driving, looked over at him briefly, irritated. A cigarette was in his mouth, and he took a puff of it. but at least he turned the ear-splitting music down a few notches. "'Cause I'm in charge, that's why." Reaching a fork in the road, he turned the wheel to the right, and the buggy turned perfectly. Still nothing to see. nothing but dirt and desolation. No monsters, no life of any kind. They were well away now from the primary Wasteland Station, and it had long ago vanished behind one of the many dunes that littered the area. Lester looked grateful now that the music was down some, but he still grimaced a bit.
"Aw, that don't seem like no good kinda reason to me," he muttered, glancing at Sarge and then looking back ahead. "You ain't my boss anyway. hey, what's that?" He stopped, having seen something small scurrying directly across their path.
Sarge saw it too, putting his foot down on the gas, speeding up the buggy. "It's gonna be a hood ornament, in a second..." Holding the steering wheel dead steady, a puff of smoke escaped his nose as he shouted: "Steam roller!" A second later, the buggy hit a solid object, and came to a stop. Curious to see what they'd hit, the two stepped out, walking around to the front of the buggy, which was now hissing and popping as the engine tried to cool down. Bending down, they took a look at what was jammed under the radiator.
Lester spoke first, not having a clue as to what was there. "Aw man. looks like you mashed some poor fella's dog, Sarge." He had no idea that this was in fact an alien monster. or that it was by no means alone.
Recognizing it for what it was, Sarge clarified him. "It's no dog. it's a Zergling, Lester. a smaller type of Zerg." He thought a moment, one hand scratching his head. Something just didn't seem right, but he couldn't nail it down. "But wait a minute, he wouldn't be out this far, unless." Almost at the same instant, he heard a chorus of roars behind him. "Aw shit!" The two were on their feet in a flash, wheeling toward the sound. Surrounding the vehicle were four Hydralisks, blocking off their escape. And they looked mad.
Lester only had time to get out one phrase before the merciless Zerg charged them: "I love you, Sarge." and then, seconds later, the two were dead. having never gotten a chance to warn anyone about what they'd seen.
-Desperate Alliances- Command Center of the Colonial Magistrate Mar Sara Colony, Capital City 12:05 SCT, 13 Dec 2499
Knowing a short time later that Wasteland Station was in danger, that the Zerg would never stop harassing it, Commander Yates ordered an immediate evacuation. setting all the structures to self-destruct, and then high- tailing it back to the main capital of Mar Sara. Before they all left, though, Yates had taken the time to transmit his protest with the Confederacy as to how Raynor, Keller, and Keller's men had been unfairly treated, sending it directly to Tarsonis through the Holo-CommNet. As of the time they had left, there had been no response. They abandoned Wasteland Station at 10:57, fifteen minutes after the horribly mutilated bodies from the patrol were discovered.
With all the remaining personnel using dune buggies, ATVs, and Vulture transports, they cut straight through the mountains, reaching the capital in far less time than it should normally have taken them. Yates was thoroughly incensed that all of the troops he had taken with him to Wasteland had been arrested, on the charge of treason: namely, willful destruction of Confederate property, and sedition. though the sedition part was as much a lie as to the fact that the Zerg weren't alien. And they were not known for their leniency in such matters. as they destroyed one of the core worlds, known as Korhal, with nearly four million nuclear weapons almost twenty-five years ago to quash a rebellion forming there. Some Korhalian senator, Angus Mengsk, was behind that rebellion. Though Yates wasn't sure.
Once back to the capital, though. Yates' mind eased a little bit. Here, in the center of the colony world, he was not defenseless. They had built quite a nice little city here. complete with many, many marines, firebats, and Vulture pilots for defense. This was a secure city. well protected against all but the heaviest attacks. This was where Yates felt at home. Not out there, in the wilderness, dealing with unknown monsters that now carried the name 'Zerg'. But here, surrounded by loyal troops, officers, and several thousand tons of bristling firepower. He strolled about the city, moving slowly, in no hurry to get back to the command center just yet. He enjoyed these inspection tours, the way everyone would snap to attention at the sight of him. 'Now these,' he thought as he walked, 'are well-disciplined men.'
Only the Vulture pilots seemed to show hesitation at saluting him. but this didn't surprise him. 'Roughnecks', they were often called. Both for their seeming lack of much discipline, and for their cavalier attitude about anything they were asked or ordered to do. They were not unknown to curse at their superiors, though most overlooked this. Yates, however, did not take too kindly to being addressed that way. So he had quickly banned curses at superiors from his ranks. And surprisingly enough, they seemed to be adhering to that coda. For the moment, anyway. The arrival of the Zerg may well have thrown a wrench into that. Oh well, only time would tell.
As his inspection tour ended, he headed back toward the command center, intent on checking to see if anyone had yet replied to the message he sent Tarsonis-ward. The command center here was slightly larger than they usually were, as the construction people had wanted to make it clear that this building was the city's seat of power. Only problem was, if anyone attacked, that would be their first target. the largest structure around. This time, there was an elevator to take. as the control room was not at the bottom level of the building. but this time, nearly the center, to protect it behind layers and layers of outside walls. He got in the elevator, and pressed the special button dedicated to 'command level'. The lift slowly rose, slipping quietly upward through the technological wizardry that lined the structure's core.
** ** **
When his conveyance finally reached the desired level, the doors opened with a soft 'swoosh', and he stepped out. Just ahead, was the control room. The thick, armored double doors were open, and technicians came and went. He stepped into it, and saw that nearly every console, every monitor, was alight and manned. Glancing briefly at the ComSat monitor, he watched as it went through a few radar sweeps, searching for any intruders and finding none. Then his eyes swept the rest of the room briefly, looking for any familiar faces. He saw none. PFC Miller, the good 'ol chess player, was off- duty at the moment, most likely sleeping somewhere in the barracks. His mind was wandering now, when a ping from the computer brought him back to reality. Incoming message. The avatar came online. 'Receiving incoming transmission, Magistrate. Com-link established.'
Yates crossed to that station, watching to see who it was, and what they would say. He had a feeling it was someone on Tarsonis, some representative of the Confederacy. But he wasn't expecting to see the man whom he now loathed. General Duke himself appeared on the monitor. And he wasn't happy. 'I've got your message, Magistrate.' he began, in his oh-so-annoying drawl. 'and quite frankly, I don't really care about what you have to say about Confederate regulations. You damned fringe-world yokels are all alike. don't know where your loyalties lie. You have a real good day now, y'hear?' With that, the screen went dark a moment. Yates was now angry too. Duke had just brushed them off, thinking they were disloyal to the Confederacy. Yeah, right.
Interrupting his thoughts, the friendly female computer spoke once more. 'Transmission ended, Magistrate. The report you requested is ready.' There was a slight pause, and then numbers and data began pouring over another monitor, lising information. 'Sixteen outland stations have reported sightings of the alien invaders identified as Zerg,' the computer continued. Yates briefly watched the data, and it was unnerving. 'The Confederates have arrested all militia forces that participated in the attack on Backwater Station, and continue to avoid action against the Zerg. Three other stations have fallen to the Zerg already. We've been unable to locate any source of military relief, except.' Another pause. Yates wasn't too sure he liked the computer's pauses, even though it was sentient. Machines just weren't supposed to have hesitation. 'The extremist faction known as the Sons of Korhal. Their liason, Arcturus Mengsk, is holding on- line.'
A new face now came on the monitor that Duke had occupied a few moments before. A man in his fifties, with grayish-black hair worn short in the military style, and with a dark gray beard. Arcturus Mengsk, son of Angus Mengsk, the rebellious Senator from Korhal. that led to the Confederacy's destruction of that world. "Good day, Magistrate. My name is Arcturus Mengsk, and I represent the Sons of Korhal. You're probably familiar with the Confederate propoganda that surrounds my group. but your reputation suggests to me that you'll see past it." Yates nodded, having heard QUITE a few choice things about this little group. The Confederacy was hunting them day and night, trying to hem them in and eliminate them. But also, Mengsk was right. Yates did indeed see past the propoganda.
Touching the control that activated the transmitter, Yates decided to reply. "Good day to you, Mr. Mengsk," he said, giving a short nod to the other man. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit surprised that you're even here. or talking to me, for that matter. I would have thought that you would worry about Confederate intercepts, or our new little problem." At this, Mengsk laughed softly, but it was a dry, almost tired laugh. Apparently, Mengsk wasn't worried about either one. but he DID know about the Zerg. Which led Yates to wonder exactly what he knew, and where he gained that knowledge from.
"Ah, yes. the Zerg," Mengsk continued, after his tired laughter finally trailed off. "Ordinarily, we hop about from place to place. it's never been our policy to operate in any one place for a long period of time. But the Zerg don't look like they're going to wait. It seems we have to deal with them. And by the looks of things, you've already been dealing with them quite a bit." The man paused, running the fingers of his right hand through his short, well-kept beard. When he spoke again, his eyes had a bit of fire in them. "I'm going to make you an offer, Magistrate. I'd like to help you get out of here, by sending a number of Dropships to your colony, and evacuating any survivors. I had heard that the Confederates confiscated all your ships."
Yates nodded once more, his expression one of barely suppressed anger. "Indeed they did, damn them." His fists were tightly clenched, and his fingernails, though short, were digging into his palms. "All we did was save Backwater Station from a Zerg attack, and destroy this odd mutation. looked like a combination between a command center and something biological. I wouldn't be surprised if those critters had something to do with it. And for all our trouble, that bastard Duke arrested all my forces at Wasteland Station!" His tenuous control over his temper was edging closer and closer to the breaking point as he poured all his rage into the rant he was now making. But after a moment, he calmed down slightly, and looked back up to the screen. "You'd help us? You'd send us some ships to help us evacuate?"
Looking face-to-face, eye-to-eye, Mengsk nodded without any hesitation. "Of course we'll help you. The Confederates would just leave you here to die. while we are honorable people. But you know of course, that my organization operates outside the boundaries of Confederate law. That's why they spread their lies and disinformation. If you accept our help, you'll be branded as an outlaw too. might even lose your colony. But, it's a chance to save those people that you ordinarily might not have gotten. It's time to make a stand for what you believe in, Magistrate." Mengsk turned away from the screen for a moment, and spoke a few orders to an officer off behind him and to his right. An instant later, the officer was gone from the view. "All right, Magistrate. I've ordered ten dropships to launch immediately. They're heading your way as we speak."
Yates smiled now, the first truly grateful smile he had felt in a long time. "My thanks to you, sir," he spoke, his voice now calm and collected once more. "But, I wonder if I could impose one more thing.?" He paused, waiting. At Mengsk's attention, and silence, he continued. "Could you locate the Confederate Prison Ship that they took my militia to? They were the best of the best here, and having them back would be a great use. I hope I'm not asking too much."
Smiling widely, and making a dismissive gesture, Mengsk laughed a bit. "Oh, no, not at all, Magistrate. I know the prison ship you speak of. the Incarcerator. Almost everyone in my organization is familiar with her. A Battlecruiser, only stripped down to bare essentials for mass prisoner containment." A scowl came over his face, almost belying a deep seated hatred of the Confederacy and its ways. But it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and Mengsk smiled again. "Not to worry, sir. We'll have your men free in no time at all. Leave it to us. Good luck with the evacuation. Mengsk out." He reached forward and terminated the link. and once more the monitor went dark.
** ** **
Three minutes later, the avatar finally returned. 'Ending transmission now, Magistrate. Detecting Sons of Korhal dropships on low orbital approach. ETA: 30 minutes. Hold. please wait. new signal on sensors. Prority Alert! Capital city under attack by Zerg forces. Distress beacon activated at 12:20.' At this, everyone in the room flew into a frenzy. Officers were shouting out things to others, and even to Yates. Yates, in turn, was barking orders of his own, marshaling together all the militia that the city had to offer, and ordering them to defend the city. Then turning to the ComSat sensor screen, Yates saw something that made his blood run cold. The city itself, all sprawled out as it was, was a grouping of green dots. But now, at the northeast and northwestern entrances, a massive army of orange dots had massed, and were pressing against the green dots like an evil flood.
Running through the bowels of the command center once more, Yates stopped off briefly at the armory, this time taking a C-35 pulse rifle. The old gauss rifles were good, but this new pulser was even better. since the pulses of proton energy were extremely destructive against biological matter. Quickly donning a suit of armor, he barged out of the main doors and down the ramp of the building. and emerged on the shores of Hell itself. Already all of the city's defenders were arrayed, the howl of hundreds of machine-guns roaring into the sky. becoming almost deafening. The attacking horde consisted of similarly hundreds of Zerglings, dozens of Hydralisks, and some as yet unknown flying monstrosity, that looked like a giant worm with wings. Shouting a battle cry, not about to let his city fall to these alien invaders, he ran forward to join his men.
He reached one of the forward bunkers, quickly slipping inside. There were three marines in here with him, and they gave him a quick and grateful acknowledgement before they all returned to their task: beating back the attackers. After a short but bloody battle, the invaders were beaten down, and they had a brief respite. Taking a moment to assess damage, Yates stepped out of the bunker, looking around. A vulture pulled up beside him, pointing back to the building he just came out of. "Hey, Magistrate," the hippie yelled. "This bunker's on fire! You oughta' get an SCV out here to repair it. and have him fix my bike up too, while he's at it!"
'I never did like these guys and their arrogance.' Yates thought sourly, but he did patch into his helmet comm, ordering three SCVs to be diverted to damage control duty. Obediently, three of them detached from their previous tasks, bringing their fusion welders to bear instead on repairing gashes, sealing holes, and bringing damaged systems back to operational capability. It was slow, and it was tedious. but after many long minutes, the bunkers were repaired. So, too, was the grumpy pilot's speeder bike. The computer, almost just in time, sounded an alert over the loudspeakers. 'Dropship arrival in ten minutes,' it said, the female voice echoing around the city. 'Warning: ComSat scans indicate additional Zerg forces en route, ETA two minutes. All personnel, remain at battle readiness.'
Hearing this, Yates double-timed it back into his bunker, peeking out. Around and behind him, two of the detached SCVs began to construct new bunkers from pre-fab packs in the command center. but even so, it would take them time to set them up. It took about five minutes for one SCV to set up one bunker kit. And the hostiles were coming in three minutes sooner than that. 'So that means we just buy those guys time to get those things set up,' he thought at last. 'And we will do it!' Crouching down beside the marines in the bunker, he checked the load on his machine-gun, nodding with satisfaction. Plenty of U-238 slugs left, plenty to empty into those monstrous carcasses. With a bloodthirsty grin, he settled in to wait. He wouldn't be waiting long.
And sure enough, exactly two minutes later, the second wave of Zerg arrived, and began to take potshots at the city's defenders. The defenders, in turn, responded in kind. blowing Zergling after Zergling after Hydralisk into tiny chunks of chitin and flesh. One of the outermost bunkers was destroyed, and its inhabitants torn into millions of shreds by the rampaging swarm. But those just behind the destroyed building shrieked in fury, and redoubled their efforts. In just under three minutes, the second wave was exterminated. The two rear-guard bunkers were completed, and reinforcements were loaded into them.
As the SCVs once more began to repair the damage caused, which was mostly confined to a few missile launchers and bunkers, the computer ran another scanner sweep. Again, it broadcast an update over the city loudspeakers. 'Attention. Dropship ETA now five minutes. All personnel, remain at battle stations.' It paused a moment, then terminated its link to the city loudspeakers, instead hailing Yates' communicator. 'Magistrate,' it said, voice now hushed but still loud enough. 'Sensor analysis shows that it may be possible to break through the Zerg defenses, and reach Mengsk's dropships ahead of their ETA.'
Yates was on his feet again like a shot. He activated his comm, and spoke back to the computer. "How, computer? Give me coordinates. Patch the latest scan sweep through to my helmet visor." A few moments later, the computer complied. and the tough man studied the scan results. 'Ingenious,' he thought to himself. The scans had been coordinated, expertly picking out the major elements of a Zerg encampment nearby. But it clearly showed, just to the northeast and maybe less than a click away, a relatively uninfested passage that headed right toward the oncoming dropships. 'It's a bit dicey, but I think we can manage it.' he mused. "Acknowledged, computer." With that, he cut his comm, then reactivated it, broadcasting to all the city's defenders.
"Attention all forces!" he spoke, instantly drawing everyone's ear to his words. "There is a possibility we can hammer through the Zerg's defenses, and meet the dropships halfway here. All those who wish to take part in this risky charge, activate your comms and say aye!" At the same instant, he turned his headset audio down. which was a good thing, because a reply came back with a tumultuous "AYE!!" from just about every person in the entire city. "All right," Yates said, taking charge again. He distributed the ComSat scans to all the marines, giving them a moment to study it. "It's time we take the fight to them. All personnel, form up outside the bunkers."
They hurried to comply, bloodlust evident in their eyes. They didn't like hiding in bunkers. they'd much rather be out in the thick of it, fighting for their lives. Now Yates stood before them. "Okay, men. from here on out we fight our way through. Say goodbye to the city, it's likely we'll never see it again." Giving a moment for silent goodbyes, he turned back to face the direction they would go, and raised his rifle. "All right, everyone. CHARGE!!!" And that second, as though a live wire had been touched to them, all the surviving inhabitants of Mar Sara's capital lurched into motion, brandishing weapons and running headlong into impending combat.
The Zerg met them almost a click away, and the two forces clashed violently. Heads flew, blood and acid sprayed the sand and rock around them, arms and legs were vaporized or eaten away by acidic poison. Behind them the command center floated along, low and massive. Its great size prevented it from moving too fast. but at least it was there, and the rapidly advancing troop was protecting it. The sensor station in the command center kept scanning as they went, and dutifully noted and logged each and every casualty, on both sides. Eventually, the Zerg forces were broken and shattered, and in full retreat. The attacking marines cheered, relieved that they had been victorious. that maybe now they were safe.
At the exact same instant of the computer's announcement to the effect of 'We've broken through to the dropships.', the survivors (only reduced to three-fourths of their original strength) sighted the bright red ships swooping down from the sky to meet them. The ships, eight in all, spotted the refugees, and settled down to the ground softly in front of them. All the ramps of the ships came down, and the pilot of the lead ship appeared, her face haggard, to call them in. "C'mon in, and strap yourselves in, boys. We gotta get o'selves out of here."
After scrambling into the ships, all the survivors quickly bundled up, securing themselves tightly in place. The ships took off again, flying hell for leather for high orbit. and a rendezvous with Arcturus Mengsk himself on the Sons of Korhal flagship, Hyperion.
A/N: Sorry that took so long! College is getting in the way, and it was hard going to write two chapters in one section. Hope you like, though! R/R! ^_^