A/N: Time for something I don't seem to do often: a real battle! However, that doesn't mean that there won't be plot-twists. At the opposite, this battle is a perfect time to introduce new characters to the storyline. Oh, and anti-french people, be warned: one of the characters uses french terms in his sentences, and some of the things he says might be offensive to some people. However, be conscious that I do not try to mock the french with this. The character is not a representation of the french populace in general, and he isn't my view of the french either. He's just a character.
So, with this said, on with the show!
Disclaimer: Blizzard Entertainment Inc. owns Starcraft and all related properties.
Chapter 6: the hell of war
"All right, guys! Let's blast these morons to hell!" Sergeant Jason Garner said, as the Duran's gunners looked at him, scared to death. Among them, while some muttered that their leader was crazy, Private Harold Bryer took deep breaths, trying to calm down. He looked at the sky. The space stations, said to be useless against such a large force, had been transported away, and the sky was blank, filling more and more with black buildings and ships. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a squadron of wraiths engaged the enemy, and soon, the battle began. Manning his turret, Harold sat in his seat, taking deep breaths again. Being assigned to one of the main mother ships was an honor few deserved, and he wanted to make the best of it. The sergeant took his radio, lifting his arm into the air, and seconds later, he formed a fist, meaning, in rough terms, "Fire at will!"
The young gunner quickly took aim towards one of the huge black ships, and wondered on its strange looks. A gunner besides him yelled out, surprised, "What the fuck? That's not possible. They're Protoss! But...they're infested? What's goin' on here?" Not thinking about his colleague's remark, Harold saw little objects fly out of the ship. Seconds later, another gunner, Jack Jenkins, yelled, "Shit! Those are scourges! Shoot those things down, Harold!"
Not waiting for his friend's order, Harold fired at one of them. Surprisingly, the shot bounced. "Psionic shields!" Jack said. "I'll help you with those." Switching his ammo to "piercing", he fired, and the little flyer quickly burst in two.
Taking his friend's example, Harold switched to piercing ammunition and fired at another of the little flyers, wondering why they were so dangerous.
One of them suddenly reached a wraith, blowing it to pieces. "Kamikazes..." Harold muttered, understanding his friend's concern. An alarm suddenly sounded in the battlecruiser. "Enemy intrusion at doors 05 and 07." A robotic voice said. The sergeant, troubled, cursed out loud. "Bryer, Jenkins, stop gunning! You're with me. We'll stop those critters. The rest of you, keep firing!"
Harold and Jack obeyed, picking up their SCM tactical assault rifles and putting on their CMC-500 suits. Sergeant Jason Garner was already all suited up and waiting. As a ghost, he had the advantage of light armor, which took mere seconds to put on.
"What are you two waiting for? We don't have all day. If you'd have lived the Brood war..."
Harold sighed. The sergeant was always ranting about living through the Brood War, getting his leg chopped off by an ultralisk on a diversion assault to extract the Queen of Blades from Char. He proudly wore an artificial cybernetic leg to prove the deed.
"You two finally ready? Go!"
The three started running through the hallway. Door 05 seemed clear, though the walls were full of scratches; it was obvious something had come through here.
"What's happening here?" Jack asked. "We're completely in the dark as to what we're facing. Are those Zerg or Protoss?"
"Can't answer you, Jenkins. That info's strictly confidential. I'm in the dark myself, and I'd be ready to bet that only two people know what's goin' on: General Kealer and Emperor Raynor."
"Why didn't they inform the rest of the people?" Harold asked, curious.
"To avoid total panic and to prepare a good explanation for the rest of the people, I guess." Sergeant Garner said. A sound echoed on the walls. Raising his rifle, Garner looked at the wall, where a dent had just formed. Signaling Jack and Harold to be silent, the sub-officer fired at the wall, and a creature shrieked in pain. It pierced through the wall. The creature was hideous. A glowing blue barrier, the same kind that Jack had called "Psionic armor", surrounded its dog-like body, covered in what seemed to be golden armor.
Immediately, it leaped at Garner, as though recognizing him as the one who wounded him. Its leap was stopped abruptly, however, as the trained sergeant cracked its skull with a strong whack of his rifle. "Not bad..." He muttered, a smile on his face. His reputation of being 'the most brutal ghost ever to have lived' was unquestionable. "I haven't lost my touch." Before he could celebrate, however, a dozen other beings leaped out of a wall behind them.
Jack and Harold began firing in unison, their shots bouncing off the shields of the strange creatures. Jack took a grenade from his belt. Harold tried to stop him, but too late. Jack threw the grenade into the pack, and the explosion made a hole in the battlecruiser's floor, as the external pressure pushed the ugly beings outside. The three terrans tried to hold on, but the pressure flushed them out of the ship.
Looking under him, Jack and Harold saw the strange beings trying to claw at them, though being too far away to do so, with Sergeant Garner sniping them quickly and efficiently. For a veteran of the Brood War, this was a breeze. Taking his radio, he quickly spoke, calm and direct.
"This is Garner. I'm currently at 5000 feet of altitude, not too far from the Duran, and I need a lift right now. Anyone in range?"
"This is ZD-15. I'm at 3500 feet altitude. I can see you and your two pals, plus a few bandits. Nice sniping, by the way. Look under you." Jason did so, seeing a small dropship placed directly below him and his men. Looking at Jack and Harold, he said, "Watch it. It'll be a rough landing." The two merely exchanged worried glances, as Garner placed himself into a cramped position. Closing his eyes, Harold suddenly felt the dropship's ramp under his feet, and as it closed, he lost balance and fell on his knees. Looking besides him, he saw Jack hadn't done any better, landing directly on his butt, muttering something about "needing some training". Jason, however, was on his feet, and the other marines of the dropship applauded loudly, as though admiring the man's balance. Jason looked at the other two and spoke, a grin on his face, "You two okay?"
Jack nodded, an embarrassed smile on his face, and Harold merely shrugged. The suit had absorbed the blow, but his legs felt a bit numb. The dropship pilot spoke up. "You guys ok? We're about to land on the battlefield. ETA thirty seconds." Harold suddenly realized it. This dropship was heading IN the battle. General Kealer had said something about living hell. Well, Harold felt that he was about to see a bit of it today. Muttering senseless comments, Harold looked at his friend Jack, who was pale, yet determined. The pilot spoke again, "10 seconds...5...4...3...2...1...Get in there, grunts!"
The other marines in the dropship went out, yelling out a deafening battle cry, and Garner, with Jack and Harold behind him, quickly followed, rifle in hand. The sergeant was in his element; he started aiming at everything that wasn't human. Jack was also experienced, and he was dodging the enemy's shots quite swiftly for a full-suited marine, while retaliating with small rifle bursts. Harold, though uncomfortable, ran in the battle, ramming one of the dog-things, shooting its head with his rifle. "Good job." Jason said. "These shields probably only stop projectiles or small blows." Yelling as loud as he could to watch out, Jack pointed towards a few meters away. The sight there was just about enough to make him puke. At this place was a zealot...or what had once been one. Covered in a carapace and bulging veins, the warrior charged at Harold. Firing his weapon wildly, Harold only damaged its shield, but Jason gave the creature a good whack of his rifle, stopping his advance and making it fall to the ground.
"There. That should..." The sergeant was interrupted by a powerful stampede from behind him. Turning around, he saw a massive being, resembling an ultralisk, though its tusks were made of psionic energy.
"Oh, don't expect to get my other leg, you son of a bitch." He leapt in the air towards the massive beast, who suddenly switched his attention to this little man, who seemed confident enough to take him on. Slashing wildly, the beast only managed to hit air, as his small opponent was nimble enough to avoid his attacks, going through the shield with a psionic cutter, landing quickly on its head. Jason took a grenade, placing it inside of the creature's carapace, and jumped off, smiling as the grenade blew up its innards. Landing besides Jack, he fired at the "zealot" who had taken Harold as a target. Its shield was down, now, and Jason's first shot burst through its skull. Looking around him, he took his radio. "Garner to Duran. Answer, Duran." A few seconds of static later, there was a reply. "This is the Duran. What's happening, Garner? How come three of your guns are empty?"
"I went to take out some of the critters that went into the ship with two of my men. I don't know if we got them all, though."
"Well, get back to your stations. Other than a hole in the floor and the wall of hall B-12, there was nothing wrong, according to our scans."
"Negative. There were over a dozen critters in the walls of hall B-12. Me and my guys took 'em out, but there may be others. As for the hole, one of my men did it with a grenade."
"What? How'd you survive?"
"God bless power suits. We were sucked out, and a dropship caught us. Then, he gave us a lift down on the battlefield, and that's where I am now. Now, be careful. We don't know how many of those critters are left, and I'm warning you: They're strong. Like zerglings, but a lot stronger."
"Roger that. Duran out."
Jason, looking at his suit, found the cloaking, activating it and going back on the battlefield, praying that those things didn't have sensors with them...
"Goddamn it, Harold! Stop moving like a wuss!" He yelled, and the enemies looked in his direction, frowning...They couldn't see a thing. "Bingo." Jason muttered. Raising his rifle, he quickly sniped one of the zealot look-alikes, and the others looked at their dead comrade in panic, and suddenly, they looked at where Jason was, and leaped towards him.
Ducking under the first one's attack, Jason saw what was going on: A strange glowing mass, probably their version of an overlord, was right over him. Cursing his luck, he leaped out of the way of the four other "zealots", but the first one slashed towards him...before being abruptly cut off in two.
"What the..." Jason started, and was interrupted by a thundering war cry. Thousands of zealots were rushing into the fray, and it was one of them that saved him. Quickly getting up, Jason was about to raise his rifle and charge again...until he noticed that he had dropped it when leaping. He looked around, trying to keep calm, and there it was, a few meters form him. Taking his military scalpel, he ran towards it, but a "zealot" look-alike landed in front of him.
"Out of my way!" Jason yelled.
Smirking, the "zealot" smiled, raised a strange blade...and dashed behind Jason, attacking an unseen foe. Taking his chance, Jason leapt at his rifle, picked it up, and went back into the fray.
Meanwhile, Jack and Harold, hiding in a home-made trench, were attempting to hold off as many enemies as they could, assisting a marine corps. Taking heavy casualties, the Corps welcomed the two with open arms. Suddenly, Jack stood up, while spikes protruding from the "zealots'" chests flew all around him. He was tired of sniping. He was going in there...
Before Harold could stop him, Jack was into the fray. Taking a standard-issue military scalpel from the ground, Jack charged towards a "zergling", quickly landing on top of the beast and slashing its throat. A yell echoed from behind him, and he jumped, dodging a psionic blast by an inch. "Watch it, Jenkins! You don't have to die today." Jason said, jumping off of the remains of a strange machine, strangely reminiscent of a dragoon.
Suddenly, a chorus of blasts echoed through the air, familiar blasts... "The siege tanks arrived!" A marine yelled, as the powerhouses started blasting at the strange beings. "Woo-hoo!" Jack yelled, shooting like a madman at the approaching monstrosities, as the siege-tanks took out the heavier ones at the back. The battle seemed to finally go the way of the terrans...
"Die, you goddamn bitches!" A voice sounded, in the distance. Jack, slightly recognizing the voice, turned around to see who yelled, and the sight turned his stomach upside down, as the one in front of him was no other than John Stippler, one of his old friends... only this time, he looked as though he was nothing other than an atrocity. A man was besides him, and before Jack could recognize him, a spine crashed in a wall millimetres from his face. Turning around to shoot at the enemy, Jack glanced around at his old friend...but he was gone.
----
"Out of the way!" A man yelled, amongst the chaos of battle. He wore a ghost uniform, but no one could recognize him. No one had been there when he was in the army, back in the day...
His pale face and brown hair, coupled with his piercing eyes and prominent teeth, could make some think of him as a vampire. Jumping around the battlefield, sniping enemy units as though it was child's play, the man laughed and mocked his opposition every second he could. "Touché!" The man said, sniping one of the zealot-like beings in between the eyes. Calls from HQ arrived every second, asking for identification, but he didn't care. All he could feel now was the bloodlust, the pure adrenaline rush of battle. It had been long...too long. Soon, though, he landed in front of a man, someone familiar...
"Terry!" the man cried out. How foolish he had been not to recognize him. He had been one of the other Extraction crew members of Raynor's raiders, back in the end of the Brood War. But slowly, he realized it: Terry had been in star ray back during the attack of the space outpost, and according to rumors floating around, his old friend was missing ever since. What was happening here? Terry turned around and went back to battle, telling him only one thing telepathically: "not now"
Dodging one of the swipes of an angry ultralisk-looking creature, the man jumped on its head, cutting its vertebral column in half with his military scalpel. Trying to look at his friend again, the man noticed that Terry had disappeared.
"Will you just identify yourself, you stupid moron?" An angry yell echoed from the suit's radio. General Kealer was trying to communicate with him since a while, and it was starting to test his patience, at the point that he was now yelling over the communications device.
The man laughed and said, as though putting an emphasis on every word, "Elite specialist and ghost operative Hugo Rellon. How's it going, Dan, l'imbécile par excellence?"
A choking sound echoed on the other side of the communications device, and Dan spoke again, obviously irritated, "You stupid bastard! What are you doing here? You're retired! Let us do the fighting."
"I never decided to retire. You forced me to do it, supposedly for 'unacceptable conduct'. Every citizen has the right to take up arms, Dan. Respect that right."
There was a short silence. "Fine. Get yourself killed if you want. It'll only rid the Universe of a stupid, reckless moron."
"I'm reckless, but at least, I'm not stupid enough to attack an unknown enemy up front. I took 'strategy and tactics' class in the academy, and you just went to 'firebat training'. I'm still puzzled as to how you became a general..."
"Shut up!" Kealer's voice was annoyed and angry, now. "Listen. If you want to be fighting out there, fine. But keep talking for 2 more seconds, and I'll have you court-martialled, believe me."
Hugo smiled. Little Dan hadn't matured one bit... "Touché!" He said, shutting his comm.unit off and leaping back into the fray. "Come on, where are you...?" He said, looking for Terry. He was so distracted that he was almost run over by an ultralisk-like creature. Luckily, though, a well-placed tank shell put an end to the beast's rampage and snapped Hugo out of his thoughts. A strange, inhuman voice sounded behind him. "Look out!" It said, before pulling Hugo to the ground, as a volley of spines flew over the two's heads.
Hugo looked around and saw a face...A face he had seen before...But how could it be? Wasn't he dead? What happened? "Frank!" He yelled on top of his lungs. "What happened to you?" His brother Frank, also a ghost, had been reported MIA shortly after the fall of the Confederacy, being part of the Sons of Korhal before. But here he was again, alive, though obviously changed. His body looked as though it was infested by...something, covered in a thick carapace and bluish skin.
Before either could say anything, though, a powerful blast split them apart. The man, with cat-like balance, landed back on his feet and returned to the fray. "Decidedly, this is full of surprises. First Terry, then Frank...Qu'est-ce qui arrive?"
----
"How's the battle going?" Raynor asked, as if dreading the answer.
Kealer cleared his throat before answering. "The enemy's in direct combat with our ships. We've got calls asking us what's going on from pretty much everybody. We even got calls about some of our enemies attacking each other. Whatever the case, the battle's going as well as it could ever go. The tanks arrived as heavy support and the zealots Artanis sent are a precious help. The enemy's being pushed back."
"Do they seem to evacuate?"
"Most of them do, but a few don't. They're as proud as Protoss. The ones who stay'll fight to the last, if you ask me. I'm surprised this is going well, though. I thought it'd be a massacre."
"The element of surprise, I guess. They probably thought that the whole planet would be easily taken, and they didn't bother sending silent assassins as they did before. Don't forget they only fought three soldiers in the outpost, so an intricate and powerful army took 'em by surprise."
"Any news from Kerrigan?" Raynor said, cold sweat dripping from his forehead.
"Nope. My guess is that she's sitting out of this one."
A communication from the battlefield interrupted their thoughts. "HQ, this is specialist Terry Lonk, reporting for duty. Do you hear me, HQ?"
Dan suddenly smiled. "Terry! You're alive! Where the hell were you? And where's John?"
"It's a long story, and believe me, I can't explain it right now. I'd like to request immediate shelter and support for me, John and the people who helped me out."
"Granted! But who helped you out?"
"You won't believe me even if I tell you."
"I can believe anything right now."
"The Salaha tribe."
"Say what?" Dan said, choking on his cup of coffee. "Those...disguising freaks? I hope that's not your idea of a joke..."
"It isn't, I swear."
"But if that's true...they're Protoss criminals! We'll be forced to turn them in."
"But..."
"Listen, Terry. You're not in my position right now. I like the fact that they saved you, and I wouldn't mind sheltering them if we wouldn't have a Protoss Ambassador that's actually the guy who first arrested them, believe me."
"Shit! Are you sure we can't do anything?"
"Sure as hell. They're accused of multiple murders. Actually, I don't know if we'd be safe ourselves sheltering them..."
"They aren't psychopaths! They saved me and John, for Pete's sake!"
"Yeah, but why?"
Terry grunted. "Listen. All I know is that those things we're fighting are worst than you think. Don't expect to have it easy with those guys."
"Sir!" A tech yelled.
"What is it, helmsman? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"It's an emergency. Enemy force appearing at coordinates O55, F15, A28!"
"What? And the long-range sensors?"
"Didn't spot 'em. They're cloaked..."
"Goddamn it! They're trying to flank us! Get backup squadrons Gold and Jupiter to those coordinates."
"And their ground units? We have none to spare...They're all on the front."
"We shall aid you, terrans." Tarrat's voice echoed through Terry's comm. unit.
Kealer could feel cold sweat pearling from his own forehead. "All right, go ahead. Get those bastards good, though." He roared. Turning to the technicians, he spoke, in a nervous tone. "Patch me through to Ambassador Kalis. I have to have a chat with him."
----
"Hey, what's going on?" A marine said.
Another said, enthusiastically, "They're retreating! It's over!" Cheers followed that announcement, but Harold looked at Jack, who shook his head. "No, it's far from over." He said, looking at the others, "Turn your heat-vision on."
Though a bit confused, the others did so, and almost immediately, a scream of terror was heard. The medic who yelled said, nervously, "They're attacking the city! They're cloaked!"
"I just knew it! This was too good to be true..." Jack said. "Come on, let's go!" He continued, looking at Harold and the other soldiers. "Let's stomp 'em!"
"Don't forget about me." A familiar voice said. Jason appeared in front of them. "I want some fun in this too, Private."
Jack smirked. "All right, Sarge. Oh, and whoever's behind us, train your silent running. I heard you coming a mile away."
"Sure you did." A voice said, behind him. A pale-looking ghost materialized, smirking. "How've you been, mon ami?"
"Hugo, you son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing here?"
"No time to explain. Now, let's just hurry up! I want to kill as many of those assholes as I can. Vive la mort et la gloire!"
"You DO know you're the only one who speaks French around here, don't you? Try not using that language too much."
"D'accord, espèce d'enfoiré. Now, let's go!"
Thus, they all started going towards the city of Fenixburg, as the rest of the ground forces tackled the remains of the creatures' main assault front...However, strange silhouettes followed them, hidden in the shadows. One of them was John Stippler...
----
"Is it wise to go now?" A psionic voice echoed.
"You question my orders?" Kerrigan answered, irritably.
"No, of course. It's just that you've been gone for so long..."
Kerrigan looked at Araq, anger flaring in her eyes. "I know what I'm doing." She took a deep breath, and issued her order. "Attack!"
End of the chapter
A/N: Don't worry, the things said in French aren't too important. It only adds a bit to Hugo's...personality. Anyway, I want your feedback on this battle, up to date. Too big? Not big enough? Too cheesy? I WANT FEEDBACK!
