-Starcraft

--Dead on Delivery

---Chapter 1: Walter Raleigh

If you ever hear someone offer you a job to do something relatively simple, you need to shoot him or her in the face and hide their body in someone's closet. They're just tricking you. What they really want to do is kill you in some horrible way you didn't see coming. No one ever gets an easy job handed over to them. Never. It doesn't happen. You have to remember this. I'm practically begging you. Because if you don't, you're just gonna get screwed over somewhere down the line when you begin to think how lucky you got to have such a smooth ride. Well, hell, that's nothing. That smooth ride, is actually plopping you right down in the graveyard.

I learned this lesson on a planet called Arid Col. I guess they called it that because whoever found it landed in the middle of a great big desert with no life anywhere. Well, those lazy bastards forgot to check the other five continents on the planet that looked like some damn rainforest. Then again, no one really cared about Arid Col. In fact, this planet sucks so much, not a single Zerg or Protoss ever bothered traveling to it. That's how pathetic Arid Col is. It's so boring, not even the Zerg could stand it. Now when that alien plague doesn't take the time to wipe something out, you know it isn't worth anyone's time.

I bet not even you have heard of it. Ha! Yeah, that's what I thought. Probably don't even believe it exists hearing it from me. I got nothing to my name really. I never served in the Confederation, or that crazy group led by the Raynor guy. No, I'm not even from the UED's side of space. Walter Raleigh, just some poor sap looking for a break that doesn't exist. Hell, it's space! What the hell am I talking about? This is the same place where Zerg peel the flesh from any human they get their hands on. This is the place where the Protoss could brainwash you and make you act out Hamlet if they even knew what the hell that was. This is the same place where you can't even trust fellow Terrans. It comes from all sides I tell you.

Phew, what the hell was I thinking? Well, money I guess. Yeah, it had to be the credits I was looking for. And when someone offers you a job to drive a truck with fuel (or so they say) from one city to the next with miles of desert in-between for 500,000 credits... Hell, sign me up! I can do that! What's gonna happen anyway? This is Arid Col! "The planet the Zerg forgot" as I've heard it in some local bars. Heh, yeah, easy as pie. You know, I could buy some cheap unarmed Wraith for that kind of money. I could fix it up, and go atmosphere hopping. And let me tell you, that is some fun shit right there.

But wait... I almost got ahead of myself here. Yeah, like where I got this fun job offer. Where I ran into a merc group consisting of UED wannabes. Where I almost got my goddamn head chopped off by an Ultralisk! Where I... hell... I better just start right now while the alcohol is still in my body. You never know, I might sober up and keep my mouth shut. And you wouldn't stay around for that would you? No, I didn't think so. So yeah... time to start the show.... yeah... Started in Dry Drop. Some dusty town on the edge of the Burnside desert....

Dry Drop was real low key. It was one of those colonies that seemed like a good idea... and then everyone just dropped the site and left. I saw four buildings max in that place. A bar. A repair garage made from a Machine Shop left over from some Terran Factory a long time ago. An inn, where I had lived most of my less-than-stellar life. And the Starport. The only thing keeping Dry Drop from becoming an ancient artifact. I heard it used to be some UED camp before the Zerg hung them from the Battlecruisers they rode in on. But then that would mean that Arid Col actually had some attention on it at one point, and that doesn't sound right. I like the colony idea I had a couple seconds ago. Makes more sense.

I was having a good drink at the bar with some guys passing through. They were wearing those gargantuan Marine outfits that went standard with any guy with a gun. Most said that it did everything to keep you alive when you had a gunfight. Hell, it even pissed for you if you didn't have enough time to tend to your bathroom needs. A guy like me living in a half-assed spot like Dry Drop didn't have enough money to buy a ride out of there, so I had no new technology most Terran factions were packing to ward off whoever pissed them off. Well, I had this old ass revolver. You know, the six shooter kind, you have to open a chamber to load up. Hey, don't laugh!

It didn't work on guys who had gunned down Zerg of course... for obvious reasons. One time, I pulled it on this Marine grunt and made him laugh so hard he fell to the floor. Luckily for me, I began to laugh too and convinced the guy I didn't pull it with the intent to shoot him. Which I did. But judging by his good laugh, I figured it I might as well blown my brains out with the thing. Oh yeah, and that was another good part about the revolver. At least I could kill myself so the Zerg didn't use my body to blow something up. Not that would ever happen on Arid Col. But you still couldn't help but think about it.

Anyway, I was at this bar, and sticking out like a sore thumb. With my brown dirty hair, hazel eyes. One ugly brown coat with black pants and a gray shirt. They were the style of the time at one point, but now they were just like the rest of my wardrobe. Constant reminders that I needed money really bad. I also had some sunglasses... Thought I'd look cool or something. But ah... you should know me. I try too hard sometimes. Least they kept the damn sun out of my eyes when I walked across the street. And that's what they were originally designed for, weren't they?

It was at this bar that this guy in a black suit sat at the table I was at and began to share the moment with buying a drink of his own. Before I knew it, we were talking details about some job. I had never seen the guy in my life. He had some slick black hair, thin frame glasses and a salesman's smile and appearance. But judging by his clothes, he was probably a pretty important person to someone. With the Terran Dominion on it's knees and the Protoss licking their wounds due to a major Zerg offensive a couple weeks ago. I bet he worked for some mining guild or some other random faction. There's so many of them nowadays. Anyways who cares. The guy looked like a fuggin' businessman. Talked fast, flashed a good smile, and always pressed you to make a hasty decision.

"What are we talking about again?" I said seeing my glass was empty.

"I want you to drive a truck. People told me you know the area well."

I couldn't say that wasn't true... but damned if it was a whole hell of a long time since I've seen anything vehicular I could touch without getting shot at. That's the only way to get out of Dry Drop. Fly or Drive. The desert would swallow you in two days if you tried to walk it. That's why I had a job at the inn where I lived, maintenance or just an all around fixit guy. That didn't require me to go very far. Normally I would care very much about keeping it. Until this guy pushed a sum in front of me.

"I'm willing to offer 500,000 credits and an escort to accompany you."

"Why's that?" I laughed, thinking this guy was jacking around with me.

"It's a long drive. Desert does some strange things to people. Besides. I'd hate for you to say no. After all this time. I was hoping I'd get someone now to drive."

Took me awhile. Maybe it was the booze, to realize he was dead serious about the job.

"Wait wait... you want me to drive a truck across the desert to the next town?"

The next town was a place called Anchor Rock. That place was real busy. Almost city like stuff. Still on the borderline of colony, but it saw more action than this place.

"Is that so hard to believe? Look, I can't use a drop ship. Because the Zerg have done extensive damage to the Terran Dominion main forces. Pirates, two-bit thieves, maybe even the Protoss would be content to interfere."

"The Toss'?"

"During these times, who knows that the hell is going on. Everyone is a target. At least, I know with a straight drive. The only thing you worry about, is staying on the road. Besides, last time I checked, using trucks to move things along was a dying past time. No one is going to be looking for you out there."

Hey, the guy was making sense. We had interplanetary delivery companies. Usually when someone said a truck, you thought it was slang, for some spaceship. But this guy meant a truck truck. One of those old ass semi's with a trailer.

"By the way. My name is Derringer. Samuel Derringer." He said with his hand out.

"Walter Raleigh." I told him, while accepting the handshake.

We maneuvered around the iron tables and the poorly lit bar room occupants to go outside into the burning sun. The bar was the last building before you walked into the desert. The asphalt road ran on forever, it seemed like the only damn thing that the sand couldn't bury. The rest of the buildings were lined up in a row with the exception of the inn, which was across from the bar. Anyway, we walked across the street to this dinosaur of a vehicle sitting in the inn's parking lot.

Now keep in mind, the parking lot was reserved for vultures and space ships. Seeing something as dusty and as long as this semi in front of me was pretty damn surprising. The front looked crappy enough. The windows were almost covered with dust, the bumper was almost falling off, and most of the running lights along the top of the cab were busted.

But hell, then there was the actual trailer.

The trailer was state of the art. It was stark contrast to the cab dragging it along. Stainless steel, warning strips, complicated looking metal tubes and plenty of lights to make even a Science Vessel nerd squeal in delight were all part of this perfect little package. Damn man, the thing was making noises as we walked up to it. You half expected it to say hello and make a couple of soft drinks for the both of us. But seriously, this was some high-tech shit right here. It reminded me of all those Confederate laboratory stories from a while back. Judging by the iron monstrosities it rolled on, I'd say it made the truck an eighteen wheeler easy.

Whew, did I forget to mention the shape it was in? It wasn't some boxcar-like set up, it was like something liquid-like. Like um... um... a tanker! Yeah, that's it! It was shaped like a tanker or fuel station for a Battlecruiser. Like a cyanide pill some desperate mofos choke down so they don't get taken alive by Zerg. You could find a ladder on back, and when Samuel Derring-what's-his-name let me take a look, I was pretty sure whatever I was going to haul was sensitive stuff. So, you can imagine my next question was...

"What's inside?"

"Fuel. Actually, it's more of an experimental fuel source. Using a combination of minerals and Vespine Gas. We're hoping to use this sample to make alternative energy resources. So we aren't so picky about setting up landing zones and campsites around geysers and mineral deposits."

Yeah... whatever. All I had to know was that it was important and that it wouldn't blow up if I hit a bump in the road. He seemed to laugh at that.

"Explosion? No, I don't think so. This trailer is designed to withstand a Zerg Scourge attack. It's tried and tested."

I had made my way up to the cab and opened up the driver side door to take a gander at the ancient speedometers and all that. To my surprise, they had given the whole inside of the truck an overhaul. It had tons of gauges to display the condition of the trailer hooked up back. Lots of stuff I didn't really understand right off the bat. Alls I knew is that when a red light flashed, you were screwed.

"Looks complicated." I said while getting out.

"Don't worry. That escort I was talking about has an expert on the system."

He snapped his fingers and three guys in white just popped out of nowhere. I think it was somewhere out from behind the back of the trailer. Anyway the and approached Samuel and I. Judging from the armor they were packing. I'd say there was a Marine, a Firebat and one of those assassin types... what'd you call them? Phantoms? Geist? Wait a sec... Oh yeah. Ghosts. The guys and gals with the scratchy throat and the sinister sounding voices. Damn, his gun was big. And whatever goggles he wore covered his entire face. At least the Marine and the Firebat you could make out. The only thing you had to look at the Ghost guy was his trio of green lights and occasionally his mask's laser pointer.

You'll have to forgive me for glossing over the ghost guy. Usually you don't see them unless they're about to kill you. And since I was being hired to drive the truck, I figured I had all the time in the world to look at him. I heard they can go invisible. That's cool stuff. I also hear they paint targets for nuking stuff. Now that's just so cool, you can't even begin to imagine...

"It's not that great." The ghost muttered, seemingly to himself.

Huh? Hey... wait a sec...

"Walter, this is Crick," He pointed to the Marine. "Orange," He pointed to the Firebat. "And lastly, Scratch." He pointed to the Ghost.

Crick had his visor up on his suit, and was currently smoking a cigar. That's typical I guess. No surprises there. Oh wait... weren't Firebats supposed to be raging smokers? I can't remember. Anyway, the thing I remembered most about him, was his impossibly straight teeth, and how white they were. His eyes kind of drooped down and gave you the impression he was bored all the time. Good thing too, those brown eyes of his could have stared a hole through the wall. The dude was as bald as an eagle though. I couldn't see a spot of hair on his head, at least from my view with his helmet on. Who knew? And more importantly, who cared?

Now, this Orange guy struck me as a newbie at the Firebat suit. Why's that? I could still see his face. There wasn't any cinder or ash or dirt from torching people or things at close range. Tan skin to begin with, so I guess it didn't matter. He was a bit more enthusiastic than his Marine buddy and the blue eyes really made you want to look this guy in the face. They were bouncing around the place as Samuel did the introductions. Hell, it seemed to me like he couldn't wait to torch something with his shiny new suit. Of course, there's nothing wrong with burning things. But I ain't no pyromaniac either. Just to set that record straight.

They tried to give me a hand shake the best they could with their bulky suits. But when I got to the ghost guy... I don't think he was interested. Can't say I was in a hurry to shake his hand either. He might cut it off or something...

"So, these three will be accompanying you across the desert. I can't really say who's in charge judging by armaments..."

"I got a revolver." I spoke up.

There was an awkward pause as we all kind of glanced at the Gauss Rifle, and the Plasma-based flamethrowers and the Canister Rifle and then back to me. The guy with the six shot revolver.

"Cool. Heh heh." Crick snickered.

Screw you man... I should have said it... but I didn't want to get our trip off to a bad start.

"So please listen to the experts here, Mr. Raleigh, and you'll make it through just fine. Just don't be surprised by any changes or what-have-you during the trip."

Okay. Fair enough. They weren't gonna shoot me. They had to keep their hands free to operate their kick-ass weaponry if someone tried to shaft us on the way over.

"Raleigh huh? Just don't touch anything on my suit, punk." Orange said jokingly.

Before anymore could be said, a Dropship inbound soon killed any chance of us hearing each other talk. We had to wait as it did a quick flyby and soon settled down on the Spaceport. Samuel checked his watch and gave us a nod when the engines died down.

"Well. I'm glad we worked something out. I must be off. I have to tell the management we've settled things down here. Gentlemen, hope you have a good trip."

He walked off toward the Spaceport as we got even closer to the front of the truck. I think we were already trying to figure out where everyone would sit. Obviously I was up front. But whether it'd be with a Ghost or Firebat or Marine was still in question.

"So, Raleigh. You see any action?"

That was about the time I noticed how calm and collected Crick sounded. The guy was real laid back. Almost as if he was your best friend or something. It was pretty different compared to Orange, who sounded like a con artist or something.

"Yeah... I saw these two flies get in a dogfight once. It was pretty intense."

Score. I made Crick and Orange laugh. Scratch didn't react. He just kept looking at me. That was to be expected I guess.

"We're all ex-UED. That won't bother you will it? Just figured we'd get that on the table before getting in the truck."

"Ex-UED? I thought the Zerg killed all those guys."

"Apparently not, since we're here." Orange grinned.

They could have been lying. I wasn't sure... and I really didn't care. I was still wondering who'd I sit with. I didn't want it to be with the anti-social Ghost who could probably read my mind or something. So as I was sweating about how to break the ice. He'd be listening to me sweat about breaking the ice. So I'd actually be annoying this guy the whole trip without saying anything and...

"I'm not sitting up front." Scratch said suddenly.

Hey... wait a second...

"Cool man. Keep your com on. We'll talk." Orange said.

Scratch turned and walked toward the back of the truck. Where did he think he was going to ride?

"Scratch rides on the trailer. Don't worry. He's done plenty dangerous stuff before. Surfing on a truck isn't any big deal to him." Crick explained.

By the time we had all piled in. Crick took shotgun, while Orange took up the space in-between me and his Marine friend. The truck was pretty wide. So if you're wondering about how he fit in all that, there was really no mystery. When I adjusted the side view mirrors... (yes, that's how old this piece of junk is, it has side-view mirrors instead of cameras...) I almost forgot Scratch was sitting on top of the trailer and it nearly freaked me out. If I saw right, I think Scratch shook his head as I reached for the ignition switch and jiggled it to get the truck running.

"Well, okay guys. Here's to the open road."

And with that, we were off. Of course, had I known better. I would have turned the job down and quickly snuck on the next Dropship to another colony. Because I never figured I'd see such a savage place, like that desert I was about to drive the truck right into. Hell, not even Crick, Orange, or Scratch imagined what we had gotten ourselves into...

-To be continued...

--Next Chapter: Pit Stop