Chapter 3: Search and Rescue
Mengsk looked edgy and sick in the interrogation room of the Hyperion. Of course, he had a reason to be, surrounded by hostile officers that he had tried to kill when he had been the Emperor of the Dominion. Raynor was one of them, as he sat, tipping his chair on the two back legs, looking at Mengsk while the former Korhalian looked at the small holovision at the center of the table.
"My God," he said, after the holovid was done.
"Just another monster you've created, Mengsk. You've screwed up so many times, and this is just another of the failures. 'Cept that, if we can't fix this failure, we're all dead."
"What the hell do you want me to do! I built an organization, an empire, a nationality out of a piece of shit in this sector, Raynor. All to see it razed by Zerg. Of course people are going to get hurt when this happens. You can't blame it all on me!"
"I'm not blaming it all on you, Mengsk. Damnit, I just want you to comprehend what you've made when you're power hungry. You've killed a lot of good people with your lust for power, and you've made monsters out of another unhappy bunch." Raynor threw down a folder on the table. Mengsk picked it up, looking inside. A picture of a youth.
There he was. The son of his best friend, Dash Strom. He had his good features from his father, sun-burnt, like many of Korhal's inhabitants, with a hawk like-nose and hazel eyes. His slimness didn't reveal the muscles that was hidden under his Ghost Hostile Environment Suit.
"How did he become a Ghost?"
"He was one of the last to graduate from Confederate Intelligence Operative Academy on Tarsonis, right before you killed his father and the Zerg attacked. When they did, he got away along with his fellow Cadets and recruits. He was the most senior officer, and when he heard that the Zerg had been lured to Tarsonis by the Psi Emitter you dropped, and that you had killed his father, he went berserk." Raynor sighed, rubbing his temples and roughly smoothing out his hair that wasn't there. Mengsk was silent, staring at the picture.
"He persuaded most of the Ghost recruits to join his team, since most of them had lost families due to you. We believe he didn't have a actual goal or plan to avenge his father's death until he learned about the Pandora. Intel still doesn't know how word got out of Pandora's capabilities before we did, but we found out after him. But now he does have a goal. We've been tracking his movements ever since the bloodbath when all of Umojan's nukes were stolen."
Mengsk raised his eyebrows. "And what's his goal?"
Raynor stared back, unflinchingly, narrowing his eyes. "He's gonna blow Korhal to atom bits, and then release this virus to the whole fucking universe. Most of it, anyways. Making every world unlivable in this universe by razing it with a virus isn't hard, but he'll leave a few habitable places out there." Raynor made a garbled sound, as if he couldn't really believe he was telling this.
"Then he'll start the race of Man all over again, like Adam and Eve, with just a couple thousand psi-powered humans left in the universe."
"Apocalypse...and rebirth? Jesus." Mengsk shook his head. Raynor nodded.
"We've got a madmen who thinks he's God."
Aboard the UEDS Avenger
No ship could replace the titan Aleksander, but the United Earth Directorate Ship Avenger came close. Two thousand meters of hull, three hundred meters in height and width at the extremes, the ship was a masterpiece of the shipbuilders and engineers at the St. Petersburg Naval Yards. It was dedicated to none other than the heroes of the UED, Admiral of the Fleet Gerard du Galle and Vice Admiral of the Fleet Alexei Stukov. For Earth, all that was needed was an avenger. Built immediately after the UED government had given approval to the launching of the UED Expeditionary Forces, the Behemoth II-class battlecruiser formed the pinnacle of an armada heading towards the jump gate. Above and beyond it, the ships Paris, Berlin, London, Moscow, Madrid, and Rome steamed in the darkness of space, the seven Behemoth-II class battlecruisers making up the main striking power of the fleet for Operation Extermination. On each of the seven ships, a staggering two hundred and fifty-six missiles, tipped with nuclear warheads were stored, enough to obliterate Earth and her sister colonies five times over. Each missile carried seven separate warheads that fired at intervals, enough to decimate five hundred thousand square miles each.
Above and below, ringing to the seven, Behemoth-I class battlecruisers, Vienna, Bern, Warsaw, Prague, Bucharest, named for every European city they were built in, followed the main fleet. Among the capital ships were dozens of smaller craft.
Fleet Commander James Conrad was young at forty-five, by UED Fleet Commander standards. He was one of those geniuses that came few and far between, graduating first of his class at the Annapolis Naval Academy and proceeding through the ranks with ease. His first command was with none other than Vice Admiral Stukov, the dead brother of the new President, Peter Stukov.
The dead Stukov was a good man, Conrad though, although as loyal to the homeworld as the UED would like. Perhaps they sought to balance the "by the book" du Galle with the more liberal Stukov. Too bad he was shot for it.
His orders were simple. Exterminate the Zerg, Terran and Protoss in the Koprulu Sector, and mop up all life. All priorities are second. Genocide and Xenocide, that was what it really meant. But Conrad did not care. He had a lost a brother to the Zerg, supported by the dastardly Dominion and the Protoss, as well as that bastard Raynor. He did not want to see Earth get obliterated by the Zerg, Protoss, or a bunch of backwater hicks that were descendants of criminals anyway. And the Zerg with their bitch leader Kerrigan? They would pay in their filthy blood.
He was not thinking about the thousands of UED Occupying Forces left in the Sector.
"Distance to the jump gate?"
"Another six thousand spacial kilometers, Commander, a good two days of journeying."
"Very good, proceed with duties, navigation officer."
The "jump gate" that Conrad referred to was another testament to the ingeniousness of UED scientists. Before the UED Expeditionary Fleet under du Galle had left, government scientists had successfully found a way to travel quicker to the Koprulu Sector, instead of cryogenic sleep. Bending space-time, ships could go through egress points that were set; ships could effectively jump through portions of space, like a Protoss warp gate.
But the portals for the "jumps" needed to be set by someone; and so throughout their long journey, the now destroyed Expeditionary Fleet, under du Gaulle, had set a number of these points up, each with a space station defending it. The last gate was actually on a moon orbiting the Koprulu world of Braxis, where the most heavily entrenched members of the Occupying Forces had been set up.
Conrad spun his heel away from the helm of the Avenger and paced the twenty-five steps it took him to the door of the bridge.
Only a few weeks before everything will be back to normal, and Janie can sleep soundly without having to worry about Zerg...
Only a few weeks.
High Orbit above Chau Sara
Wraith Squadron Echo
"Echo leader, this is Echo-three. We have the transport."
"Alright, Echo Squadron, stay frosty and look out for anything on your HUDs. Your primary objective is to protect the 'rock' at any costs."
"Got it, Echo leader."
Three of the C/F-17H Wraiths swerved above the Hyperion as it launched a dropship high above the desolate world of Chau Sara. Another five Echo squadron Wraiths whirled in circles above the drop point.
The "rock" was an outer coating of organic igneous and metamorphic compounds found on meteors that frequently burned themselves on the small atmosphere of Chau Sara at they pummeled to the world. Before the Protoss had decided to make the world a wasteland where human survivors were reduced to running around like rats, the Chau Saran atmosphere was dense and thick, able to destroy the countless asteroids and meteors that were attracted to the gravitational pull of Chau Sara from the nearby Kyros Belt. But now, daily asteroids plummeted to the ground, the absence of an atmosphere reducing friction.
McAllen and Cameron had to first solve the problem of getting into Chau Sara. There had been previous missions of trying to infiltrate the world, without any success. Every team sent down there was lost shortly after landing. Intelligence had wagered that Strom was setting up the remaining habitable places in the world with lookout towers and detecting equipment. Stumped, Cameron was left frustrated by the inability to spy on Strom. A senior Intel analyst had suggested the idea of disguising the team that would go in with organic material, so on a tracking screen the object would look like an asteroid. McAllen agreed.
The dropship stopped in space, as the Wraiths circled like sharks around it. Slowly, the hatch opened on the transport, dropping a oval shaped, chunky, irregular piece of rock, dark gray and black, along with dozens of other rocks of similar size to serve as decoys. Suddenly, two cylindrical cones jutted out of the back of the "rock" and blasted away, producing invisible fumes as the projectile flew from the transport and onto the barren world of Chau Sara.
Inside the organic hull, the hollowed asteroid, captured by a trajectory beam from the Hyperion a few weeks earlier, held two passengers: Jayce and Aragas, in a cramped, tight Vulture Bike. It was a modified, two-person MH-88 Vulture Scout Vehicle (VSV) featuring a gaggle of gadgets and equipment.
"ALPHA Rock, ALPHA Rock, this is Hyperion. We've released our payload of dummies."
"Roger that, Hyperion. Wish me a safe trip."
"As always, sir."
As other asteroids, dozens of them, were discharged from the main hanger bay of the battlecruiser, one of them had oddly cylindrical, gray tubes jutting out, slowly propelling it into the world. The detection station, on the remains of the continent Syra, detected only the standard barrage of asteroids heatedly barraging through the isolated world. It did not report back to the headquarters of Strom.
Chau Sara
Aboard the crashed Valkyrie-class missile frigate, Bloodwrath
Verdi didn't knew what was more disgusting: the fact that the mission had failed almost without warning or the stench of dead flesh being feasted on by the Chau Saran fauna. Fernandez was dead, being feasted on by large, angry rat-like creatures. Zhukov was almost certainly dead. Verdi's body felt like it had gone through an incinerator, then pounded on by a dozen trampling elephants. She could move, one leg stuck between the metal structure of the ship, two arms weak and useless.
Who the hell shot us down at such a high altitude? Whatever or whoever it was, they sure didn't want to be found. Verdi looked out from her jail, watching the night blanket the planet. Above, one of the asteroids shot through the night sky, streaking as its outer shell broke as the friction took its toll.
Moria, three days later
D-Team, thirty minutes outside restricted Kelanis Mining Guild Storage Depot
Dog team had followed Strom from the beginning. Its members were hardy, able to survive the elements while carrying out their mission with precision as sharp as a knife. The Ghosts, all of them young males, were drained almost of their human spirit because of their past. They had no conscience, no spiritual self that made them human. They were only empty shells, sucked dry of emotion. Killers. That was their only name.
"Tak," D-team's leader, signaled to three semi-transparent Ghosts in the fading light of a Morian summer to move ahead. The perimeter of the Depot, which held enriched uranium, plutonium, and destrium products, was guarded by a long section of fence. Nothing else. No guards, no high-tech gadgets to detect cloaked spies or saboteurs. Just a three foot high fence. Obviously, Moria was still reeling after the UED and Zerg invaded.
Quietly, they slipped through the door of the Facility easily, the old, rusting security camera unwary of invisible predators. As the last Ghost slipped in, Tak followed, a heavy, C-11 Shredder gun in his grip. Inside, scientists in lab coats wandered in the lighted hallways, inspecting and checking the massive, cylindrical barrels of newly mined uranium, which were then processed in enriched deposits used for energy and weaponry. A perfect target to sabotage.
With swift speed, Dog Team struck. An agent punctured the paper thin walls that separated an innocent scientist from Ghost, impaling the man with a sharp blade; a crimson blossom bloomed on the fresh lab coat before the Ghost yanked the blade free, leaving the dead man sagging on the wall.
Tak himself silenced the muffled screams of the technicians with a kick, nodding to another partially invisible agent to set the bombs and timer, before he viciously yanked one of the technician's neck, feeling the satisfied silence and crunch of bones as the neck gave way.
Then, as silently as they crept in, they slithered out, as the clunky boots of marines found body after body of dead men. The blood left behind spelled four words: THE FISTS OF KORHAL.
Outside, Tak communicated with Chief. "Bingo."
Milliseconds later, an explosion ripped through the building, taking with it all the nuclear stores of the Morian Government. The only thing that was left was the bloody words on the floor.
Trowitch, Moria
The single Arclite M-65A2 Rhino Siege Tank rolled through the rubbled filled streets of Trowitch slowly. Like the clanky, noisy tanks of Wehrmacht in Ancient Earth history, during the fight for Stalingrad, the tank traveled through the street unaware of the next ambush, as it crushed decomposing corpses and concrete. The only thing hiding the crew of five from a death of flying metal was metal. In a tank, shut off from its surroundings, men could ignore the reality of the stench and bloodshed in war.
Moria was in shambles, as ravaging armies left its once powerful economic strength in shambles, and as the mining factions previously under its iron grip faltered, realizing prosperity was only out of reach because of the Morian Government. Kelanis, the most powerful of the mining factions, was the first one to break out, as its mining factories were converted into armories, its miners into soldiers. Trowitch was only one of the mining cities that was falling out of Moria reach.
But not before the Morian IX Corps reached the city.
And as Kelanis and Moria fought, a time bomb ticked. On the other side of the city, two Goliath Infantry Support Walkers struggled as the rubble made the crossing between two buildings a potential for ambush. Inside one of the gray, decrepit houses, a rebel motioned to another as he put the anti-armor rocket launcher on his shoulder.
"Load."
A single gray, pointed rocket was thrusted into the depths of the insidious weapon. A prelude to a messy death.
Receiving a pat, the rebel fired from a window. The rocket spiraled straight into its target, the lightly armored cockpit of the walker, exploding into the metal brains of the machine. A mélange of gore and metal stained the metal contraption, as the Goliath stopped.
Before the two rebels had the time to slink away from the carnage, the other Goliath stopped, twin autocannons pointed straight into the wall of where the fire had come from. The pilot let a short burst of slugs out, catching the two men in the torsos and stomachs, spinning them around in an unnatural frenzy, falling to the black shadow that covered the building.
A corporal, on a standard MH-88 Vulture Scout Vehicle, waited as its intended prey stopped. The tank that was chasing him was not so stupid enough to fall for the "lure and explode" trick that other Scout Vehicles had so successfully used against heavier armor. The Arclite stopped, readying its cannon to fire. The corporal flicked a switch on the bike. Instantly, three bulbous spider mines, hidden under and close to the tank, unburrowed, exploding in a dense shower of metal fragments and fire. The tank combusted, crew running opening a hatch and streaming out, one by one. Calmly, the Vulture turned around, firing fragmentation grenades, tearing men into pieces of hacked flesh and bone. Four more kills, the corporal mentally noted, as he head back to HQ, deep inside the rubble of the city, to get the four Moria kills etched onto his bike. But he stopped, looking at the wide expanse of darkening sky, as a flame like something out of apocalypse engulfed the sky, expanding towards the ground. A second later, the only thing remaining of the vehicle and the man was charred cinders of flesh and metal, cemented together.