Disclaimer: All vehicles and species etc (anything that comes from Starcraft) are property of Blizzard Inc. and NOT mine … and uh… same as all the other stuff that everybody else puts in their disclaimers.
Okay, so… this is my first fan-fiction writing… this is chapter one so excuse the lack of action… have to introduce characters etc… Also, I've deviated from traditional Starcraft genre, as I like my writing to be realistic (or as realistic as futuristic space warfare can be) so naturally, humans aren't born age 19 with rifle in hand in barracks etc in my stories, so therefore humans are harder to kill because they don't grow on trees. Also, more emphasis on tactical actions than in game (Operations etc not just random killing) so yeah, enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW, honest opinions… it's the only way I can improve, thanks ;)
Hitting the Beaches
Chapter 1: New Orders
"Zulu One, this is Global." The radio squawked through Lt. John "Sparky" Evans helmet. He cringed and hastily adjusted the volume.
"Global, Zulu One, go ahead." Evans spoke into his mike, Global was the call sign for the Battlecruiser Reciprocity, who was in command of today's landings, and command status meant you didn't keep them waiting when they wanted to talk.
"Our receivers are picking up an emergency beacon originating from the surface; it's one of ours, frequency one-zero-zero-four point two. You're the closest group to the source. Our manifest shows your group as twelve strong with compliments of Marines and Goliaths, confirm." The controller spoke rapid fire with a cold and slightly mechanical tone.
"I hate being the last group." Lt. Evans co-pilot, 2Lt. Steven "Charlie" Marley hissed grumpily from the seat to Evan's left, "Just watch, they're going to make us check it out."
"Roger that Global, combined group total is three-zero-zero Marines and two-four Goliaths, A-Class." Sparky sighed as he waited for the order he knew was coming.
"Zulu One, take one additional ship and make your way to the beacon, we are dispatching half a squadron of Wraiths to cover you. Your orders are to proceed to the site, orbit and report back. Your new call sign is Rover. Transmitting new navigation files now. Global out."
"Told you." Charlie grumbled depressingly.
"Zulu One and Zulu… Twelve," Sparky randomly picked, answering with an equally depressing tone in his voice, "Confirms call sign Rover." Sure, he thought, it's easy to give orders when you're not the one that's going into enemy-held territory. Switching to his inter-squadron frequency, "Zulu Two, this is Zulu Lead, new orders. Myself and Zulu Twelve are going off exploring; you're to continue leading the rest of the squadron down to the 'Beaches', good luck. Zulu Twelve, come left four-five degrees and join on my wing." Two sets of two clicks through his headset meant both orders were acknowledged. Rolling his control column left, Sparky settled into the new heading his computer was now displaying for him. To his right he could still see the other three hundred and ten dropships of the first wave of the Reciprocity Battle Group in their squadron size formations heading down to the surface, their long line reaching out to the horizon. The tiny little specks weaving in and out signified the scores of Wraiths that were flying cover for the massive landing force. Craning his head to look upward, Evans could see the blue-yellow sunlight glinting off the hundred some Valkyrie missile frigates that were being held back for support. Over 7,000 men were heading down to the 'Beaches' this…morning… and almost double that number was to land in the second wave. Every single dropship in the Reciprocity fleet was in use, and nearly every Wraith and Valkyrie was airborne… The Admiralty were expecting quite a show today.
"Captain Arthurs to the flight deck." Charlie said over the dropship's intercom, before looking at his pilot, "You know, they always pick on us just because we're at the back… I mean, just because we're the 608th Zany Zulu's doesn't mean we always have to go at the back! You never see them telling Alpha Group to break off, or Kilo Group!"
"Do you want a transfer to the 522nd Attacking Alpha's? Those guys go through new pilots and ships like there's no tomorrow, they'd be glad to have you." Evans paused for the remarks to sink in, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather be at the back of an invasion than the front." he laughed as an exosuited marine entered their already cramped cockpit.
"Well flyboys, what's going on?" The deep voice of Captain Arthurs questioned.
"There's some emergency beacon that's squawking somewhere down there," Sparky said, thumbing towards the ugly brown and black surface outside the windscreen, "Our orders are to orbit the site, and report back to Global."
"So they can have you land us there," Arthurs spoke, clearly not happy.
"Hey I don't give orders Captain, I follow them." Sparky replied with a reluctant shrug.
"All right, give me a head's up when we get close." Arthurs hissed and walked back to the hold.
"See," Charlie said, leaning over in his seat, "Even he hates being the last guy."
"Oh give it a res-"
"Rover flight of two, this Raptor Lead, we're coming up on your three o'clock, we're you're escorts." A care free voice hissed out. Turning to their right, both pilots could make out the six deadly y-shaped Wraith fighters heading towards them.
"Good to see you Raptor Lead, always nice to have company when one's going down to an unknown area of a hostile planet in a hostile system, particularly…" Sparky squinted, focusing on the three, large barrel laser cannons on each of the Wraith's wings, "…company with big guns." The reply was laughter,
"Do I hear a touch of anxiety in your voice Rover?" Raptor One answered back.
"Just wanting to make sure I get home in one piece, Raptor."
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In his cramped cockpit of Raptor Zero-One, Captain Mike "Shrike" Winters smiled underneath his oxygen mask. Transport pilots were a special breed of men, he thought, anyone willing to fly those slow moving bathtubs into enemy fire had courage beyond limits… or they were just plain stupid… probably the latter he thought with a chuckle. Upon reaching the two large, but elegantly curved dropships, his half squadron broke into three two-ship formations and formed a three point triangle around the slow transports. His radar screen showed no contacts, and he took the time to survey the rocky, jagged landscape of the planet's surface. He wasn't surprised by the deep canyons and rocky outcroppings that stood everywhere, something supposedly swarming with Zerg had a right to look ugly. A blinking yellow light went off on his console and pulled him back into the fighter. Damnit, Winters thought, I thought I told them to check engine two's hydraulics. Quickly summing up the severity of the problem Winters turn the warning light off; there wasn't anything serious enough to make him bug out just yet. Besides, they were going away from the 'Beaches', that's where all the action would surely be. Looking out now to the two transports, he caught the squadron markings painted onto the T-boom tail of the lead dropship. 608 Zany Zulu's, he smiled, who in their right mind would name a squadron that?
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The relative peace and quiet lasted roughly twenty minutes as the eight ships rumbled towards their destination. Then procedures started to kick in.
"Fifty kilometers to the signal origin, time to eyeball." Charlie said, glancing at the readouts on his radar screen.
"Roger," Sparky answered before thumbing his radio mike, "Raptor Lead, Rover Lead, we're fifty clicks from the objective, but… uh… we're not sure what's there..." Sparky called out easing back on his throttles and bringing the large dropship into a hover a few kilometers above the planet's scared surface. Craning his head out his left view port, he could see Zulu Twelve, err, Rover Two doing the same.
"Copy that Rover, we'll take a look-see for you." Sparky almost heard the mockery over the radio, damn smart-ass fighter jocks, Evans thought, let's see you avoid ambushes and ground fire in this bird. Coming suddenly into his forward view two of the Wraiths rocketed by, accelerating quickly with a sonic boom that echoed through the thickly armoured cockpit. The lead one rolled twice before both dived towards the ground for their reconnaissance run.
"Show-offs", Sparky muttered.
"Big engines to make up for small dicks." Charlie agreed, smiling.
Several minutes later Raptor Lead's voice came over the radio again, "Site checks out Rover… we have visual on the beacon, on some sort of plateau… don't have anything else on screens or visual. Whatever put it there, it's gone now."
"Roger, wait one." Sparky answered as he switched over to the Battle Group's frequency, "Global, Rover, come in." The reply was the same cold mechanical voice as before… if anything, it was more mechanical now. Meanwhile, Charlie once again summoned Captain Arthurs to the flight deck.
"Rover flight of two, go ahead."
"Uh… we're orbiting fifty kilometers from the site. Our escorts did a quick fly over and have eyes on the beacon, and nothing else in sight or on radar." Sparky said, he already knew what was coming next.
"Copy that, Rover you are to advance to the site and land your payload, they are to recover the beacon and ascertain how it got there. Upon completion, retrieve your compliment and return to the Reciprocity. Global out." The flight deck door hissed as Arthurs entered once again.
"Good news Captain," Charlie grinned, "You can tell your troops to stop throwing up back there, you get to feel the ground again real soon." Arthurs grunted and stared fiercely at the co-pilot before looking towards Lt. Evans.
"It's true, Captain, you're to retrieve to the beacon and do a little investigation, you know just pick up a few rocks and make some shit up, get back on board and we all go back ship-side. Rover Two heard the same orders so they'll be landing too. Oh, and their senior officer is injured, so the 2IC, a lieutenant, is running the show over there. That puts you in overall command, any questions?" Sparky said as he turned on his terrain-following computer and prepped his ship for the drop.
"You talk to all senior officers this way sonny?" Arthurs growled. But sparkly only faced him and grinned, "Only when their on my ship… pops. Now you might want to get strapped in, a bit of fun flying coming up." Again the Captain stormed out and both pilots tightened their straps as Charlie reached up to throw a switch on the roof panel. Twenty feet behind him, the red "Drop Imminent" light glowed into existence and all twenty five Marines hastily tightened their straps too. Back in the cockpit, Evans toggled his computer and the low-level terrain following display was projected onto his helmet visor. Pushing his four throttles forward he eased his column down and the transport accelerated towards the ground, engines growling deeply. Rover Two followed close behind, and above, the six Wraiths, Raptor Lead and Two having returned, widened their formation and dived in after the transports, which were now hurtling towards the rocky surface.
Here we go, thought Sparky.
What did you think of Chapter 1? Please Review… and I'll have Chapter 2 posted ASAP, thanks ;)
-silverphantom
