Alright, now here's chapter 3. I realized now that I should spend less time doing the AN and more on the story, so for this one and the next 3 it's gonna be entirely on third-person view. Well now, here I go!
Beckett arrived at the Starport some time in the afternoon, by then traffic was lax and it had been a mercifully smooth journey. People were coming and going, but most were power armored marines, without a doubt headed towards his fleet for deployment. His mouth were fumbling over the words of, "Excuse me," and "Sorry," as he tried his best to wade through this busy ever-shifting mass of humanity.
Without a moment for pause, he flashed his ID at the guard, who nodded and extended an armored hand towards the military section of the shuttle bay. He sighed for it was basically anothertedious long walk of shoving past men and women alike.
*Bop
That was the sound of Beckett's shoulder making hard contact with the chest of a woman in her late twenties. The force was seemingly powerful for it sent her spiraling to the ground. The coffee previously grasped within her hand now lay beside her blouse, its contents lay smattered atop the light fabric.
Oops.
"For Chris'sake, watch where'ya goin, miss," he snapped at the seemingly middle aged woman but nonetheless stretched his hand out in good favor. Beckett found himself in a bewilderment when she scrambled to her feet, gave him a good almighty shove and screamed obscenities into the Admiral's face. As a high ranking officer of the Royal Dominion Navy he would not tolerate the berating of one vulgar deranged female civilian. As his momma would put it,
"Sometimes you gotta give them hoes' a good smack. Even if they be women."
"Lady, I don't know what your malfunction is but I will not be spoken to in this manner, either you see reason and fuck off or I will personally see to it you end in the-"
Two armed marines came into the picture all of a sudden they rushed in and saved her skin from incarceration by roughly hauling the screaming woman away to the security counter.
"Crazy ass bitch," muttered someone from the crowd. Beckett couldn't agree more.
The twosome who'd dragged the woman away then returned to address him. Both had no custom markings whatsoever, not surprising considering these two are not out in combat tours. The one with a sergeant stripe stenciled to his pauldrons snapped a salute before raising the visor.
His face was fresh –no scars, lacerations, bruises whatsoever. Probably a recent graduate of DSOI.
"Apologies sir, we weren't fast enough to contain the situation. me and my partner will accept any punishment you wish to mete out,"
Beckett simply shook his head in disagreement, he was running late, the shuttle to his vessel leaves in less than 10 minutes, "Nah, its fine fellas, just, just get back to your posts," The marine and his partner seemed overjoyed at the statement, both were 'all smiles' to put it.
"T..thank you, sir!" was all the Sergeant managed before stomping away merrily. As he continued his way to the designated shuttle, Lieutenant Tesla sent out a telepathic message.
That lady needed to be put in her place, want me to give her a lesson?
By lesson, the good lieutenant meant beating the shit out of her in a secluded spot and then putting a bullet between her eyes.
Uh, that won't be necessary it was my fault in the first place
Understood
Having a telepathic conversation was really weird, the mental voice projected from speaker echoes in your mind from every direction. It's one of the things Beckett can never get used to.
He was a good ten meters away from the entrance when the intercom suddenly blared, "Attention, Shuttle 9F is leaving in two minutes, this is the last call for any more passengers,"
A handful of power armored marines and some techies roughly brushed past him, egging the other to hurry. One turned and lifted his hand sheepily as a way of saying, 'sorry' before rushing onwards towards a shuttle. Beckett's flight itself was 2A, which would be leaving in -
Six minutes and twenty-seven seconds
He jerked in response to her sudden mental intrusion. Goddamn Ghost, how many times must he tell her not to - Oh.
Uh, thank you Lieutenant, will you be boarding the same flight as me?
Nope, I'm in a different flight but I'll see you in the bridge sir
The "link" was cut and Beckett decided to get himself a drink, plenty of time left.
In his right hand was a can of diet cola and the left, his air-ticket. Beckett kept walking until he reached the designated piece of aero-dynamic piece of shit. Already there was a long queue of men and women. The Admiral sighed at the time that would take for him to finally get inside.
Roughly seven minutes later he was strapped at the very end of the shuttle, squeezed between a hulk of a man who wouldn't stop shoving his elbow into his personal space and a woman snoring loudly with her head leaning against the Admiral's shoulders. "Sunnava' bitch!" he hissed.
If you thought that was bad, wait until the shuttle was space-borne. When they had pierced the first three layers of Korhal's atmosphere, that two hundred pound of muscle you call a human being immediately grabbed his hand in an excruciatingly painful vice-grip and held on to it like it's some kind of lifesaver while the woman just held on to his shoulder and wet it with her saliva.
It was the longest ten minutes of his life.
The shuttle had been headed towards his commissioned vessel, the "Saint-Nazar II" a gargantuan Gorgon-Class BattleCruiser which spanned close to 850 meters. Refitted with plasma shields and over 2 meters of grade-A Neosteel, this baby could take a pounding from a Protoss Mothership and still be cleared combat capable. During mid-flight he had contemplated with the idea of throwing these two out the nearest airlocks once they'd arrived. As tempting as it had sounded, he needed every swinging dick in this. If the Emperor had diverted his fleet for a retrieval task instead of bolstering the Dominion's defenses against the Swarm then it had to be of great importance. The artefact may be the key to ending this entire war.
The shuttle had barely powered off when a Navy officer, an ensign jumped aboard. Beckett recognized him as Avery Yutani, ever impeccable in his dressing with clean curly brown hair, friendly eyes and rosy red cheeks.
"Welcome aboard, ladies and gents," He held his view with intense focus. "Can you please stand up and grab your belongings? Good, now once you exit, keep moving there," He pointed at a certain direction, "And don't stop till you've reached the tram-station. Are we clear? Hey, hey, lady no drinking here, come on move, you, quit holding up the fellas at the back and – Admiral Adams! Sir!"
He snapped into a salute the moment he laid eyes on Admiral Beckett whom returned the gesture by curtly nodded at him and exited the shuttle. "Sir, didn't see you back there, why did you ride up in the scrap-heap instead of calling up one of the dropships here?"
"No time, we're leaving in less than an hour. Have the fleet's been accounted for?"
Ensign Yutani whipped out his PDA and skimmed through. "Uhh, yeah. We're still loading up supplies and the last of the crew are coming in. We're ready to depart by '1800' hours."
"Good, as you were,"
"Aye Admiral."
All around him, crewmembers went about their daily work while jarheads stood guard in strategic locations around the hangar. Beckett breathed in the sweet air, it's good to be back. As he headed to the Tram station, the Admiral had to nod at every crewmember who acknowledged him. It's becoming a bit of a pain, after addressing the 50th crewmember.
Thankfully when he reached the tram station there was an available tram getting ready to ship off, he slipped in before anyone could notice. The trip to the bridge would be half an hour at least since they had to make stops along the way. He noticed his cola was still half full and proceeded to finish it.
His cola was thoroughly drained before the trip was even halfway through and the Admiral spent the remainder of the ride, napping.
"Now Approaching, Bridge." droned the ship's adjutant, Aphrodite. The automated doors split apart and formed a ramp, steam began seeping out of the tram's exhausts and yet, no passenger alighted.
The guard on duty, an MP in his late 50s noticed this and peeked his head inside the passenger bay. "Hello?"
He meekly entered and came upon a sight of Admiral Beckett Adams napping on one of the seats. The old timer sighed and took out his baton, the stun function set to 'Off'. He stopped walking the minute he was a feet away from the sleeping passenger and tapped the base of Beckett's knee with the baton.
"Sir,"
No response.
"Dammit I'm too old to play nanny, shuda' stayed in that school as janitor."
He shook the shoulders of the Admiral with both hands. "Sir, sir!" With a startled yelp Beckett awoke and hugged the railings for support as he nearly fell over. He lay on his knees, head shaking violently to snap awake. Slowly he stood up and rubbed his nose gently.
""Ya' took quite a nap back there, had to wake ya since we're at the Bridge, now best ye' be going sir." spoke the MP flatly before stepping aside for the Admiral to pass. The old timer watched the Terran Dominion Navy-man march off, "Kid's too young to be an Admiral," he mumbled and got back to guzzling his recaf.
The hallway seemed deserted. Most of the staff there were already in the bridge checking off warp-jump diagnostics. He tumbled into his personal quarters and made for the shower. In one fell motion Beckett relieved himself of his clothes.
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Tesla had been standing outside his bathroom, preparing to give her boss one of those "scares-your-officer-with-that-awesome-cloaking-fe ature-of-yours" once he exited his shower and instead it was she who had a fright.
The Ghost was horrified at what she was hearing. Inside the bathroom the Admiral was whispering lovey-dovey crap to his shower. His shower of all things, and the words he used sent shivers down her spine. Her prank was immediately aborted and the traumatized Ghost left her boss' quarters without a sound.
Seriously, some things are just meant to be left alone. As she made her way to the Bridge, she couldn't help but whisper to herself, "I will never sleep well again."
45 minutes later
Latex met neo-steel as Admiral Beckett Adams' boots kept pounding on the neo-steel floorboards. He strided across the ship with a much different aura; One that radiated of power and authority compared to how he presented himself hours ago. His head held high, hands clasped behind his back, new naval suit and all plus a fragrant odour wafted from his very self. He owed it to that amazing shower gel his mother had sent him.
A mousy looking technician carrying a crate filled with spider mines hastily scrambled out of Beckett's way.
Two Spec-Ops marines stood guard, their CMC were matte balc, a huge contradiction to the rusty red their regulars donned. A symbol of a skull and two knives potruding from the top were imprinted upon each of their pauldrons. Currently their heavy rifles overlapped each other forming an "X" shape thus blocking the door. Upon seeing Admiral Beckett himself the two broke formation and stepped aside. The Admiral entered his workstation silently.
The bridge was a mess, aides and staff ran about with holo-pads on their hands, operators voiced commands and queries over the coms and his XO was having a rough time managing the entire course.
"Admiral on deck!"
Cried an earnest aide who noticed Admiral Beckett enter and everyone present in the bridge stood up from their posts as a sign of respect when addressing a high ranking officer.
"At ease," Beckett spoke with a dismissal wave of his hand. He strode over to his command chair and XO Chrissa immediately proceeded to hand over command of the fleet back to one Admiral Beckett Adams of the Dominion Royal Navy.
"Christina you seem to be happy about this, running a fleet too much for ya'?"
"Ha-ha well sir it would be easy if only we weren't mobilized three days ahead of schedule," deadpanned the XO.
Once the procession was accomplished, Beckett finally sat on his command chair and powered up the console.
Place Hand onto scanner
..
Confirmed, Welcome Back Admiral Beckett Adams SN-899X-JJ76-PO33-551B, No new messages
Fleet strength, check
Please Wait..
..
..
Fleet strength as follows
15 SV(10% retrofitted with PSM shields)
27 Behemoth Class BC (38% retrofitted with PSM shields)
30 Minatour Class BC (65% retrofitted with PSM shields)
8 Gorgon Class BC (100% retrofitted with PSM shields)
Close..
..
..
Done!
"Merrick how's this old girl doing?"
The ensign in question glanced over his workstation and brought a thumbs up gesture, "I got green across the board. Weapons, life support, reactors. Everything checks out sir,"
"Aphrodite, status of the fleet?" he called out into seemingly empty space. A hologram of a female cyborg materialized inches to his left.
"Fleet status at 100% combat effectiveness." the cyborg spoke in monotone synthetic female voice and occasionally having abrupt spasms as the AI checked off reports of the fleet. Once Beckett was satisfied he focused attention to the ensign on chair number two.
"Number two, take the reigns, bring us around at 100 klicks due East and have the fleet warm up engines for jump,"
The female ensign, designated "Number-two" replied with a stiff, "Aye, sir," and soon the Saint Nazar II was mobile. Power was diverted to the enormous engines as the Gorgon Class navigated at maximum burn.
"Sir, DSC's cleared us for warp jump. Fleet reports ready for warp jump and ready to deploy on your mark." Beckett grabbed the sides of his command chair, he loved this part, silently he stole a glance at his watch to time the jump correctly. Warp jumps were highly risky business and one had to have a perfect timing. Even if it were a second off the resulting jump would be potentialy fatal.
1751 hours, okay then I should jump in about two minutes. Yeah, two minutes ought to do the trick.
"Good, make the jump in T minus 1 minute and 48 seconds. Synch with the fleet this time number three, don't want another incident of New Haven now would we?"
New Haven, Beckett's fleet warp jumped to the Dominion fringe world of Haven with the intent to stamp out the Zerg incursion. But the Saint Nazar II and four other vessels were still caught in FTL, the remaining 80 ships, suffered immense casualties due to incomepetent leadership skills by the second-in-command, an ambitious Captain who lost her ship and her life later that day. Replacements had long been made but every loss was a huge blow dealt to the Terran Dominion.
"Ahh, of course sir,"
An operator quickly transmitted into the intercom on a ship-wide channel.
"All hands, prepare for warp jump, repeat, brace for warp jump in T-1 minute 30 seconds. Return to your assigned posts immediately,"
50, 49, 48, hot damn this is nerve racking!
Thought the Admiral as the crew threw itself into chaos to prepare for imminent warp jump.
"We are jumping, in 5, 4, ready, steady, go!" And the operator designated "Number One" punched in the key. Everyone was thrown to the edge of their seats as the Saint Nazar II entered warp space. It would be a three hour journey to wherever it is the Emperor wants them to be.
Distortions lit up from within the void and with each passing second the anomaly grew in size and all of a sudden a space-borne vessel was spat forth from the belly of said void. The vessel itself stood from bow to stern a massive 750 meter.
The Saint Nazar II has successfully exited warp jump.
It was not alone, there were others also belched forth from the void. Then another, and another, and another until all eighty ships were accounted for.
Beckett sat at his command chair, eyeing a distant planet out in approximately two hundred kilometers.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, we're here. Wherever here is,"
Saint Nazar II, Gorgon Class BattleCruiser
Bridge
2300 hours
The power suited figure took his place by the left side of the holo-table. Present upon the bridge were the local commanders aboard the Saint Nazar II as well as people of importance from the other ships. Once Marine Lieutenant General Blonski was accounted for, Beckett began his briefing.
"Alright gents, now that we're all here mission briefing will now begin." His hand slipped underneath the table and flipped a switch thus projecting a mini 3D rendition of the planet before them. Beckett swept his hand lazily on the brim of the hologram and as he does so, the 3D projection followed suit, rotating until Beckett laid his hand off.
"No bullshit, no beating-around-the-bush, so far these are the facts. Dominion science team arrived in this system 2 cycles ago. Contact has been reported lost. Before contact was lost, they found a Xel-Naga artefact, Codenamed Red Dawn."
The committee broke out into harsh whispers, anxiety and fear etched across their faces. Red Dawn referred to the Xel-Naga artefact utilized during the third invasion of Char and the results were devastating indeed. Not only did it deal a huge blow to the Queen Of Blades, but also damaged multiple primary Hive Clusters and even drove multiple broods feral.
"And the probability of a Zerg incursion," He looked to the grim faces of the local commanders, "Is high." He sighed and continued.
"As of now, we know nothing more than what HighCom knows. The Emperor has personally tasked me, you and everyone a part of this fleet to secure "Red Dawn" and bring it back to Korhal. No matter the cost. Gentlemen, you and I know the price of failure."
A bullet to the head by your own hand as demanded by his royal majesty, Emperor Arcturus Mengsk.
"The planet before you, tagged UW-426 is broadcasting a distress beacon," He jabs the 3D hologram with the index finger once more, a chunk of the hologram was magnified and red dots could be seen, mere millimeters apart. Each dot represented the possible locations of the distress beacon. "Somewhere in this region. Now, I want two squads deployed planetside to locate that signal, trace it, secure the artefact and bring it back up. Hopefully, it would still be in one piece and we won't be dealing with the Swarm anytime soon. "
"Why deploy the marines? Ah' mean, can we not just use our scanners to triangulate the signal?"
All eyes fell onto the intimidating figure of a CMC-300 decked heavily in olive green camo' paintjob. His chest piece had the words, "MJR INIESTA" stenciled upon it. A nasty flak pistol was secured to where the thighs would be. Medals adorned his suit and they jingled ever softly as he strode towards the young Admiral with purpose.
Beckett's XO answered the question in place of her upline. "We did, but the signal's position change everytime we run further scans. So far, we've pinpointed sixteen possible locations of the Xel-Naga artefact
Dominion Science Team have set up their base. Once we've found the base, we can track the location of the artefact," She stole a glance at the Admiral, who had gone all silent. "Red Dawn."
Commodore Ronsom, head of wolfpack "Viper" raised her hand, capturing the attention of the Admiral himself.
"Admiral Adams, wouldn't it be easier to use our Reaper specialists? They traverse terrains easily, and they're light and fast which makes them the best recon units, not to mention they're more effective than the jarheads."
'I like your idea, Ronsom, that could work. The Saint Nazar II alone has eight companies of Reaper Corps specialists, that's close to 500 infantry on deck. So, it's decided on this part then, we'll use just one Reaper squad to locate the source of the distress beacon. They'll begin deployment at first light. Once the distress beacon's been located, Lieutenant General Blonski's ground pounders can do the housework, "
General Blonski took this as the opportune moment to jump into the discussion, "And if we do encounter the Zerg, mark my words we will, the 82nd Marines will pound their spiny tails flat into dust!"
The general's armored gauntlet smashed into another in emphasis to the statement he just made.
A few more issues were resolved before Beckett called it a day.
CPL Jackson Elijah Pits, 22nd Reaper Division
Saint Nazar II Gorgon Class Battlecrusier
Armory B-a
0800 hours
Lance Corporal "Acks" of 'Hades' section hated recon. He preferred raids. When his squad was rousted for a recon drop onto planet 'UW-426' he nearly burst a vessel. Acks was one of the few who could negate the effects of resocialisation, all it did was piss him off. The first thing he did the minute he was roughly yanked out of the resoc tanks was to reach out and snap the neck of the nearest doctor. With over 50 counts of first degree murder, all of which done by hand, it was no surprise Acks was to be sent into a facility known as the "Icehouse" to become the epitome of death.
To become the grim reaper.
Twenty-six months the man endured, his spirit, mind and body broken, only to be reforged and the process repeated a thousand times over. The man who entered the Icehouse was Jackson Pits, the man who emerged was something else entirely, known to the Commanders simply as "Acks".
Currently, Acks was suiting up, his respirator dangling loosely by the scruff of his neck and goggles around his head. Within less than a minute the Reaper was fully suited, booted and strapped. His twin P8 Gauss pistols were tucked nicely, and his D8 charges hidden inside the suit. He tugged the straps a few times, once he was satisfied he left the armory.
"Acks, you're late," a fist collided with his shoulder. The mirror image of another Reaper leaning against the wall. The man in question was puffing away on a cigar. it was Acks' squadmate, "Mad Dog" Ivan. A
mentally disturbed individual with a fetish for explosives. Acks brushed off the pain and clasped Ivan's hand and collided their shoulders against one another. "Ivan, always glad to see there in the universe exists a man far more disgusting than I am."
"I aim to please, brother,"
"That depends, c'mon, Sarge's waitin," They grew deathly silent and passed by dozens of crewmembers, all of whom parted and gave ways to the two angels of deaths. Ivan decided to start a convo on the way to the hangar.
"So, what's your take on this recon drop?" - Ivan
"Fucknuts, man. 500 Reapers aboard this damn ship and we're the lucky ones who gets recon." - Acks
"I hear ya' on that one, last recon I did was on Char, lost most of my squadmates when we ran into a pack of Hydras, I thought I'm done with recon, turns out I'm wrong. I swear, fate must've been a whore in its previous life." - Ivan
"Agh fuck me, you know I hate reconnaissance, a lot of moving around, a lot of standing around but no killing," - Acks
"The killing part'll take care of itself Acks, just keep your head clear once we're planetside," - Ivan
They RVed with their squad leader, Sergeant Twitch in the hangar. Already he was strapped into cargo hold of their assigned transport, D9-388. "You're late." he growled the minute Acks and Ivan entered. "Blow it out of your ass old man, I was taking a crap when orders came."
The sergeant shook his head and the squad spent the rest of the trip to the surface in silence.
The intercom aboard the dropship came to live and a rough accent scratched through the outdated speakers.
"Flight diagnostics complete, green across the board. We're beginning our descent, you boys settled down back there?"
Ivan rapped his fist against the metallic wall in response.
"Okay, we're dropping...now" There was a drop in gravity as the dropship literally fell from the cargo bay of the Battlecruiser and freefell headfirst into the planet below. Acks felt the very air leave his lungs and scrambled for the hand railings as the dropship picked up speed and a tremendous amount of heat, the engines roared to life and settled D9-388 nice and easy over the hostile planet's natural formations.
*Aliens 1986 combat drop scene
D9-388 swung back to the Saint Nazar II once it had disgorged the Reapers. Their primary objective would be to locate the artefact, 'Red Dawn' via the distress signal sent out by the missing Dominion Science Team, once they have completed their task the marines would hog all the glory in securing it. Anything else would be considered secondary.
"I hate this planet," announced Acks loudly over roar of his jump pack.
"You and me both," hissed Ivan.
For the past ten minutes since his arrival onto this planet there'd been no high ground to traverse, nothing to shoot at, nothing worth reminiscing about at all. There was just grass and trees, grass, trees, more grass, more trees.
"Stow it Lance Corporal, your jump pack's leaking fuel, tighten that gauge and get back in formation we're approaching the first objective," grunted Sergeant Twitch. Acks did as told and fell behind the Sergeant.
To keep his sick derogatory self amused, Acks kept magnifying and shrinking his optics on the sergeant's ass.
Three hours had passed and the recon team had yet to zero in onto the distress signal. They've already written off four of the sixteen possible locations and were halfway on to the fifth. They'll be relieved within 12 hours with another Reaper squad should Acks' team's efforts turn out to be fruitless.
"This is useless, at the rate we're going, we're gonna burn up every scrap of vespene in the tanks before we even hit the seventh!" moaned Ivan. Acks agreed with the statement but said nothing otherwise while the Sarge waved the 'bird'. All of a sudden his hand shot forth towards his radio.
"Reapers, heads up! I have a visual on the fifth possible location, six hundred yards due West."
"Looks like some sort of cave, I'll bet my entire salary the artefact and the distress signal's emanating from there," Acks piped.
"Yep, though I'm pretty sure the Corps do not pay us. Cmon' lets go full throttle, the faster we do this, the better," The sergeant was the first to go supersonic, then Acks then Ivan. Acks' vision became blurry as the suit pumped combat drugs into his system to cope with the insane speed his body was being propelled at.
"Papa Dragon this is Dagger 3-3, we're closing in on the fifth possible location. Uh, Looks like a cave of some sort, Uh, be advised, high chance Red Dawn might be inside. Break."
The line was silent, the speaker on the other end witholding himself. Moments later a new voice spoke. Admiral Adams.
"Solid copy, we'll have the marines on standby for this one, continue on with your reconnaissance. Papa Dragon out,"
Line went dead shortly thereafter.
They found the entrance of the cave as they neared it, Dominion military hardware and computer systems lay scattered about. Blood smeared over the walls but no bodies.
Ivan whistled over the net, "Lotsa' blood, no bodies. Can't be Zerg they're never this clean,"
Acks was the first to whip out his twin P-45 Gauss Pistols, followed by his squadmate and sergeant.
"Alright, take it slow." whispered the sarge as he waded through the blood and spoilt equipment. They made their way through the encampment, there was no form of physical damage done to the camp, no blood and no bodies. Sergeant Twitch found the distress beacon, a cylindrical object about a feet long almost buried all the way into the muddy ground.
Twas' a stroke of luck Twitch found it, the way it was positioned looked as though there was an attempt to conceal the beacon from be spotted, he fiddled with the object before turning it off. "The damn thing's been running for 36 hours, so I'm guessin' whoever caused this must be long gone by now," announced Ivan as he came up to the Sergeant to have a peek at the beacon. The sergeant gave a nod before tossing the useless object aside. "Continue mining for information."
Meanwhile Acks was busy going through the items and hardware left behind by the Dominion Science Team. His red tinted optics focused its gaze onto one of the computers still active. He holstered his weapons and stretched his hand out onto the holo-pad, perhaps he could -
"Acks!" The sound of his sergeant startled him, "What?" Acks responded in an impolite tone. "See if you can get into the system and find out what the fuck's happened out here." The Lance Corporal raised both his hands up indignation. "I was already on it, old man!"
"Good, I'll go call it in."
PVT Dwight S. Hunter, 82nd Marines, Echo Company, 4th Platoon
High On Acid, Minotaur Class Battlecruiser
Armory A-7
1147 hours
Dwight - Private Dwight was happy. Combat situation at last, after two months of mucking about on boring space patrols and shore leaves, the boy's prayers were finally answered. He pivoted his armored foot onto the wall before locking down the straps tight. Satisfied that it was secure, the Private slipped on his combat gloves, a tedious chore the gloves were but it would not dampen his mood.
Today was the day he was finally gonna pass through the 'trial by fire'. All around him, marines were murmuring their eagerness to get down and dirty with whatever it was that ate up the research team. Noncoms would holler orders to hustle it up and the grunts would comply enthusiastically. Most of them like Dwight were greenhorns, fresh out of the resoc tanks, power suits shiny and all with nothing but their hypno-bullshit training and the fire in their bellies to overcome the Dominion's endless threats.
"Come on you apes you wanna' live forever?" screamed a power armored figure at the entrance, the unmistakable rank of a Master Sergeant proudly stenciled upon his chest plate and his menacing C-14 stood at the ready. The entire armory erupted into a wild roar as Dwight and his fellow brothers in arms scrounched up whatever scrap of ammunition and grenades into their inventories and stamped out en-masse towards the hangar. "Get some to die marines!" yelled the same MSGTfrom before. As Dwight was swept along the tide, the intercom came to life.
"Attention, this is the Captain speaking, Alpha through Echo companies prepare for planetary deployment, This is not a drill, repeat-"
The young man of twenty wrapped his fingers along the smooth handguard of his weapon and gripped it hard upon hearing what the Captain had to say. 'This is it, finally gonna' see some action,'
His thoughts were interrupted when an oversized hunk of neo-steel that Is the 5-4 Marauder suit nearly knocked him off balance. Even in power armor, the Marauder suit was still capable of pulping a CMC-
300 with relative ease and they stood a foot taller and wider than your average grunt. Young Private Dwight scrambled to get out of the man's way by sinking farther behind at the back of the stampeding marines.
As the other marines shoved and shouted to get into their assigned dropships. Dwight managed to squeeze through the incoherent lot, a feat close to impossible with that armor of his mind you, he broke off from the mob and found his dropship, LB-112' shortly after. Inside were some of his platoonmates already settled down but their excitement could barely be contained.
Their residential firebat -Private Idaho performed constant checks on his fuel tanks in case, PFC Narsus could be seen at the back proudly boasting about all the shit he was gonna' kill once they hit the surface. More marines from Dwight's platoon poured into the passenger hold, but no sign of the Platoon Commander.
Their PC came in with the last two platoonmates. First Lieutenant Darnibian was relatively new from the academy, one could easily see he was just as excited as the greenhorns.
"Marines, you feel good?" He bellowed.
"Sir Yes Sir!" majority of the jarheads including Dwight answered his call.
"Can't hear you, feelin' good marines?"
"SIR YES SIR!" LT. Darnibian scanned the fresh and eager expressions of the marines under his command, if anything they seemed more eager to get down to the surface then he was. Dwight sat straight up as the El-Tee began his briefing.
"In two minutes, we will be inserted into the last known location of the research team. No bodies just lots of blood. We may be going up against a new strain of Zerg," at the mention of this the passenger hold broke out into harsh whispers. The Lieutenant seemed unfazed at the sudden din and continued. "The reconnaissance team has secured the beacon and has begun mining for information. Once we get down, we hog all the glory in finding and securing 'Red Dawn' while the scouts get topside for some chow. Stay frosty down there, keep a cool head, just kill anything that's not human and you'll live to see veteran-hood."
The passenger hold was deathly silent. Even Dwight was. Zerg. The very mention of that name brought fear everywhere, be it among the ranks of Terran or Protoss. And Dwight was gonna' see one up front and personal soon. His grip tightened around his Gauss rifle.
Moments after the Dwight's PC finished his briefing the dropship fell out of the hangar. Zero-Gees kicked in and the marines activated their grav-boots.
"It's a two hour ride from now so get some rest boys cos' the only easy day was yesterday."
