Chapter 3: In the Gallows

Captain Steven Michalos paced his quarters, reading papers, drinking wine, smoking cigars and all in all feeling very self important and achieved. The young man stopped now and then to survey the base below. He smiled at the efficiency of his troops. Everything was going according to plan. He could see new building being erected, Red Moon soldiers being placed into their new jobs, and he got an eerily enjoyable feeling when he saw several heavily armed Marines moving several re-enforced steel crates into one of the new buildings that had just gone up.

This Red Moon Faction may not be too civilized or intelligent, but their SCV workers sure know how to work quickly. Then he thought, it probably comes from the need to rapidly deploy units, make a base as fast as possible, rape the planet of its resources, and fortify the area before the enemy can kill you and take your mines. Michalos cringed at the thought of such a warfare tactic.

He moved his gloved hand to the side of his belt, moving his long dress coat out of the way a bit. In his left hand he held a cigar, filling the room with the stench he had grown to adore. It was an important man's smell, rich man smell, and all the important Admirals smoked cigars. Of coarse he would sooner tear out his own heart with his bare hands than swallow his pride and admit he smoked expensive cigars just too fit in and on the rare occasion be mistaken for a higher rank. He sucked in on the cigar and gazed out the window, in a respective pose, as if someone were watching.

Jeri blew out the smoke that she had previously filled her lungs with via cigarette. She looked curiously at the smoldering paper tube, a filthy habit, she questioned why she ever started, oh yeah; this is the Terran Dominion, self-explanatory. She coughed into her elbow. She was leaning against the walls of one of the supply depots, trying to avoid working. Well she said she was taking a break to have a smoke, but the cigarette was almost burned down now, she didn't care, as long as she could stay away from that place. Jeri was placed on construction duty.

Diesel walked down the halls of one of the buildings they had just built. This one moves underground a decent distance. Diesel was lost, he couldn't see his map for the life of him, and this place was pitch black. He had seen some UED guys lugging steel crates in here, and he was supposed to retrieve the serial number from one of them, A-451. All he had were his metallic footsteps to guide him, yeah, that really helps, if I want to know where my fucking feet are, he thought nihilistically. These UED people really pissed him off. What makes them think they can just barge in here and start working us as slaves, he decided to just focus on getting that serial number, as if he would be able to SEE the bloody thing in this damned dark.

He hears movement, maybe someone that can get me where I need to go.

"Earth," the word randomly crossed Jeri's mind. United Earth Directorate. They came ALL the way here from the fucking Earth to take out the Zerg and Protoss. Hmph, none of these princesses had ever even seen either in real life let alone FOUGHT the fucking things. Jeri flicked the slip of paper that was once a cigarette to the ground. It went out before it hit the dirt.

Check lay on his back on top of the Command Center. His rifle lay beside him. He was around six feet tall, his rifle was five, he always though that was funny. How the corps loved overkill. Such as with the HUGE suits they made the Marines wear, and the Gauss Rifles that were almost the same size as the Marines. And the fact they fired metal spikes instead of conventional bullets. Gotta love the Dominion.

Diesel followed a slimy line across the grate floor. It reminded him of a Snails trail, but it was bigger, not by much, but a bit. Of coarse, there were some pretty big Snails out there.

"Great, now I'm thinking about snails."

The trail ended at a door. Wait, why the hell am I following this thing anyway? Diesel pondered. He fumbled for the door lock. When he found it he slid the door open.

"Oh my fucking God!"

It was gradually getting dark out. Check decided to slide off the roof and report in to his Supervisor so they didn't think he was deserting. He grabbed his rifle, rolled onto the side of the building, put one foot out in front of the other, and slid down the 3 floors of the structure. Planting his feet nice and deep in the sand.

His Supervisor was walking around with a note pad, probably looking for Check, yay.

Check walked up to him, and asked if he was looking for him. He wasn't, not yet, Check was farther down the list. It reminded Check of attendance; they were being treated like fucking kids in school/slaves.

"Jesus, don't you people have real names here?" The young, clean shaven, pretty boy commented smugly while jotting down some notes and checking in Check. If Check were to tell him where he got that name, he would never understand. In fact Check had been called so for such a long time that he only remembered that it was short for Checkers, but he couldn't remember why for the life of him, he decided he didn't want to know.

The UED Marine looked at Check from the side of his eyes with his head pointed down looking at his clipboard.

"You can go, your shift is over,"

Check gave the man a cold look. He seemed to be in the situation that warranted one of those a lot. He spun around on his heels and walked away, rifle strapped to his back.

The desert got decently cold at night, and Check sincerely hoped that the UED bastards froze. They had only been there a day and already everyone hated them. They think they're the kings of the Universe. Fuckers.

Check walked past a Supply Depot as Jeri was walking out from behind it.

"Oh, hey Check," she greeted the Ghost.

"How ya doing,"

"Heh, well, bad? I can hardly find anyone I know, and when I do their being whipped, metaphorically of coarse, these people piss me off, and I can't find Diesel anywhere,"

"Diesel? I think I saw him going into the storage shaft thing, what are they making you do?"

"Ugh, I'm a pilot and their making me work construction,"

He cut her off before she could ask what his job was.

"Yeah, I can see a lot of the base from on top of the Command Center. That's where I was hiding out today, to avoid the slave drivers. No one looks there. I hope they don't at least. I'd rather not do my job, and they only call me when they need me to do it. Well, I'll see you tomorrow." With that Check began walking off.

Cal Rodney sat on top of his Arclite Siege Tank. He took a long draught from his beer bottle. He was against smoking, but he drank enough. His men thought he was an alcoholic. The Cavalry had rolled to a stop for the night. They would make their approach on the base the next day.

"Hey Check?" Jeri asked the Ghost as he began walking away.

"What IS your job?"

Check stopped in his tracks, he looked back at Jeri with a gloomy, regret filled look on his face,

"I'm in the Gallows…"