Here's chapter three, review please! Thanks.

-WalkingSpirit

9:08 PM

A CONFEDERATE BASE, 3 DAYS BEFORE WAR

The Confederate Marines were popping open another bottle of beer around the campfire. Everyone was laughing and having a good time. Some guys were even circling around, playing guitars. There were huge coolers full of beer cans and bottles sitting right near the fire. This was how it was for almost a week, with just a few hours or sleep a night. Yep, almost all of the two hundred men in base have been using beer as fuel for their bodies. It has been kind of like the legendary Woodstock people a long time ago had, according to some of the guys.

Captain Joe Sander was leaning against a sloppily-made fence in the back, lighting up a cigar. He was an average sized skinny man of age 41, and he was rather quiet. He had his right army boot on the fence, and he stared out into the stars as he smoked. He had a green hat on his head. He blew the smoke down onto his camouflage pants, but most of it went onto his brown jacket. Suddenly, one of the civilian workers emerged from the radio tower and walked towards Joe.

"What is it, I haven't got all day…"

"Sir, we have received a distress call from someone on a planet not more than two days away from us."

"What, do they want us to come on down there and exterminate something on their planet or something? For god sakes, that's all these country folk ever want us to do!"

"Just come see this sir, please."

"Fine…"

They walked inside the radio tower and went up the flight of stairs. There is a small room up there filled with radars and screens, and a bunch of other stuff. Joe has no clue what most of these gizmos and gadgets are.

-The main screen turns on-

TRANSMISSION OPENING…

COMPLETE.

RECEIVING TRANSMISSION FROM…

5 DAYS AGO.

PLAYING- DISTRESS CALL

A man's hands move in front of a small camera, and he moves the camera so it is facing him. He takes a drink from a glass of water, and then speaks.

"Greetings, Confederates. Let's make this short and simple, shall we? I am a radioman from a planet we call planet Concord. It is a small planet, and we only have one group of people living here, to our knowledge. We all live in the small town of Hartlin. Recently, our patrol men were found mutilated outside of town. I'm sure you already know this by your experience, but the Zerg did this. We just had a town meeting, talking about rules and the likes. We are closing up our town and putting up machineguns on the walls to hold back the Zerg. Please get here quick; it's only a matter of time before they invade. We didn't tell the townspeople that the Zerg are here, that would scare them. Oh crap… radar readings are showing red dots all around the town, miles from here. They will probably attack in a day or so. Hurry! Please! We will give you all the minerals and vespense gas you need, just come! Please!"

TRANSMISSION ENDED.

There was silence for a few seconds, but it seemed like an hour. The radioman broke the silence.

"…Personally I think this is suicide, and we shouldn't go. The people are already dead probably…the transmission is from days ago, sir…"

"What the fuck are you talking about, kid?"

"We have all been drunk lately sir. I was just having a good time, and I forgot about my work. I'm sorry."

"You worthless piece of shit."

Joe reached in his pocket, and pulled out his magnum pistol. He raised it to the shaking civilian's head, and fired. The body dropped on the floor to the right of Joe. The quiet man calmly put his pistol back in his pocket. He picked up the radio that went to the awesome battle-cruisers.

"This is Captain Joe Sanders. We received a transmission A FEW DAYS AGO from a recently unknown planet not too far from here. They are having a bit of a Zerg problem,"

Joe grinned.

"I need you to land in the helipad. The people are probably dead already in that planet, but the planet is rich with minerals and vespense gas. If we turn in a shit-load of that stuff to the Confederacy Leaders they could give us a better base, and some time off. I'll round up the kiddies and meet you at the helipad in about 15 minutes?"

There was silence for a few seconds, and then the pilot of a battle-cruiser responded.

"Good day, commander. I received your orders. One battle-cruiser in the helipad, coming right up."

The pilot's voice was strong and confident, not too mention heavy with an Italian accent. Almost everyone agreed: these guys were the best in the Confederacy.

"Good. I'm out."

Joe put the radio back on the table, and walked downstairs and out of the tower. He left the civilian's body where it was. Joe had a job to do. He could almost hear the Zerg calling him forth. They don't kill themselves, you know… well, most of them. (Infested Terran are a bitch )