Imperium by Forever Jake
Chapter One
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The battlecruiser thundered through the skies of Korhal like some great, dead star, at last crashing to earth after so many aeons of service to the thankless heavens. It was a monster, a dying god shaking the world with its roars as a terrified populace turned its heads upwards in awe and disbelief.
To anyone else, familiar as they should be with the easily-recognized form of the ship, it would have been mundane, unimpressive, even with its massive size and firepower – it would have been noteworthy, but far from epic or even truly important. To Arcturus Mengsk, however, it was nothing short of poetry.
He could not see it with his own eyes, of course, seat-belted as he was into a helmsman's chair on the bridge of the ship itself, but the video relay from a rear camera on the tiny shuttle proceeding just before the titanic vessel gave him a nonetheless breathtaking view.
There were thirteen ships in all, and each had been equipped with digital video monitors and camera feeds – he had wanted to be sure to capture the landing from as many angles as possible, to cut down on the need for reenactments when it came time to piece together the inevitable propaganda films. Such devices, though offensive in concept, were undeniably effective – the way to rule people, after all, was to make them want to be ruled. The people of Korhal, of course, would be used to being ruled after so many years beneath the iron heel of the Confederacy...
Ah yes, the Confederacy. Since the end of the Guild Wars, it had laid claim to the whole sector, save Umoja and Moria – over a dozen large planets in all, and a myriad of easily colonized moons. Tarsonis, the largest world in the sector, had been the seat of Confederate power; now Tarsonis was in ruins and the Confederacy all but devoured by the waves of rampaging aliens. Mengsk smiled at the thought. It had all been so easy, too.
Once, Mengsk had been certain that his purpose in life was to relieve the exhausted peoples of the Confederacy from the oppressive rule of their government. His crusade, potent and surreal, had been incensed from the beginning. Mengsk's parents had been murdered by the Confederacy's political minds, and this world – his homeworld – peppered with nuclear detonations. In bitter hatred had he begun, and rallied many to his cause; after all, he was far from unique in having had his life destroyed by the fascist government. Many had suffered under the Confederacy's rule, and these martyrs, roused to action by their common pain, had flocked to his said.
Only then, as the first vestiges of power fell into his hands, had he begun to understand: his purpose was not to erase the Confederacy, but to make it his. And at last he had succeeded.
He could see the people now – well, not the people themselves, of course, but the tall spires that marked the city where he knew the people to be. They were watching the telescreens in the squares and plazas, their necks craned upwards as they watched the monster plummet towards their world, and all the while Mengsk watched the buildings on his own telescreen as they grew larger and closer.
There was a muffled sound from the corner of the bridge. He turned in his chair, catching one of the helmsmen just as the officer finished intoning some soft transmission into his receiver. Mengsk tapped loudly on the corner of the man's chair, and motioned to him to switch on the speakers. The helmsman did so.
"Hello, this is Arcturus Mengsk. Who is this?"
There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of mechanic crackling as the voice on the other end sputtered to life.
"Good afternoon, Mister Mengsk. This is Therese Lanaghan. I'm the Magistrate in charge of this planet."
"Ah, it's a pleasure to speak with you, Therese. I simply cannot wait to meet you in person."
"Likewise, Mister Mengsk. We've got some minor resistance down here, but nothing extensive. We're all ready to turn Korhal over to you."
"That's good news, Magistrate. I was concerned my arrival might not be all that welcome here."
"Nonsense, sir. A lot of us are old enough to remember what happened to your family, and I don't think there's a soul here who honestly misses the Confederacy. Not after all they've done to us, that's for sure."
"Then the news is out?"
"Not officially. All information about the state of things on Tarsonis is being kept classified until you've been fully instated, with the severest penalty hanging over anyone who leaks. That said, pretty much everyone in Augustgrad has heard about the Confederacy's downfall. Doesn't seem to have hit anyone as particularly hard news, either."
"That's good to hear. Listen, Therese, I'm being notified that we're nearing platform and I'll need to cut off the radios before we land. I'll see you on the surface."
"Affirmative, we've got you on radar. I look forward to meeting you, Mister Mengsk." There was a click, and the line machinery hummed and crackled to a near-silence.
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The battlecruiser fell between the spired structures of the sprawling city, gliding towards the landing platform like an avenging angel born on wings of destiny. At last it shuddered to a halt on the platform, its systems one by one powering down in relief. The flight through the desert skies had no doubt been taxing on the ships, which were not built so well for atmospheric travel as they were for space, but for the men on board, the true crucible still awaited.
"Let's do this," said Mengsk, rising from his seat. The helmsman nodded, punching a button.
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Beneath the wings of the massive ship, a throng had already gathered, waiting to receive their returning hero. There was a hiss, and a long ramp lowered itself from the cruiser's belly, accompanied by scattered cheering.
Arcturus Mengsk, Emperor-to-be, walked to the end of the ramp and put his foot down on the dusty ground of the platform. The fate of the galaxy reeled.
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End of Chapter One
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