I'm writing this story because there are no interesting Starcraft/Star Wars crossovers, and this time I was more thorough. but this time with a different setting and beginning.
This story takes place before the wings of liberty, but after the brood wars, whereas the clone wars will occur in season 1.
With that set and done, on to the story.
A long time ago in a galaxy not so far away...
Star Wars: The Warrior of the Void.
The entire known galaxy is at war. The Droid army of Count Dooku has taken control of major hyperspace lanes, forcing the Republic to send the majority of its clone few reserves available, the Jedi Generals began to spread thin across multiple star systems in the Outer Rim as more and more planets chose to join Dooku's Separatists. while the Republic and Separatists were occupied fighting the war. Another conflict is slowly brewing in the unknown regions.
in an inhospitable sector of space called the Koprulu Sector. Centuries before the clone wars, four prison ships from Earth veered off course and journeyed deep into the remote Koprulu Sector, where they crash-landed on the planets of Tarsonis, Moria, and Umoja. Cut off from Earth, the survivors established colonies throughout the sector. The largest Tarsonis was founded by a powerful yet increasingly oppressive government called the Confederacy.
Spurred by the terrible acts of this government, Arcturus Mengsk formed the Sons of Korhal. This rebel army fought to overthrow the Confederacy and liberate the Koprulu Sector even as Mengsk and his resistance fighters fought to overthrow the corrupt Confederacy. A much greater threat confronted the Terrans.
For nearly 300 years, humans thought they were alone in Koprulu Sector. They were wrong. The Zerg emerged, seeking to consume all in their path. And before long, the Protoss, a highly advanced alien race, began wiping out infested worlds, burning Zerg and Terran alike.
A three-way war unlike anything the galaxy had ever seen erupted almost overnight. All the while, a human civil war raged. The Zerg had already reached the neighboring planet of Mar Sara, and Marshal Jim Raynor and Magistrate Ulysses S. Sheridan fought to save the terrified colonists as the Confederate government abandoned them to the alien menace. The Sons of Korhal intervened, saving thousands of lives from the rampaging Zerg and enigmatic protoss. Disgusted by the Confederacy, Raynor and the Magistrate joined the rebels and met Serah Kerrigan.
Kerrigan was a former Confederate ghost operative, and she shared Raynor's desire for a liberated Koprulu Sector. They grew closer as the battle with the Confederacy escalated, but Mengsk went too far with his hatred and ambition. He ordered devices placed on the Confederate capital world of Tarsonis to lure the Zerg and annihilate the population. The Protoss, led by Executor Tassadar, decided to help the Terrans defeat the Zerg instead of purging the planet of life. Mengsk sent Kerrigan to stop Tassadar's interference, and with Kerrigan battling the protoss, the zerg overwhelmed Tarsonis and decimated the population. Having achieved his goals, Mengsk left the planet and abandoned Kerrigan to the aliens. But the Zerg had other plans.
The Zerg transformed her and unleashed her psionic power upon the Koprulu Sector, searching for their objective—the Protoss homeworld of Aiur. The Protoss were unaware of this danger and slow to respond. Their rulers, the conclave, had dispatched Executor Artanis and Executor Valdarin to hunt for Tassadar, a commander who had refused to wipe out the infested Terran world.
They meet a dark templar mystic and his human apprentice, both of whom are considered heretics by the Conclave. Through great effort, Zeratul convinced Tassadar, Valdarin, and Artanis that they were not their enemies. Despite the Conclave's fury, they achieved significant victories against the Swarm. But when Zeratul struck down one of the Overmind's Cerebrates, his own mind was left vulnerable. From his thoughts, the Overmind gleaned Aiur's true location, and the Swarm descended upon the protoss's home world with all their might and fury. It was Tassadar who kept the Templars from extinction that day. Using the power of both the Templars and the Dark Templars, he sacrificed himself to kill the overmind.
Aiur was lost, but Artanis and Valdarin led the survivors to the Dark Templars' homeworld of Shakuras. Old prejudices were set aside. The Templars were now in the Dark Templars' debt. Without the overmind, the swarm fractured. Kerrigan sought control of all the Zerg, even enlisting the aid of old friends and enemies like Raynor, Mengsk, and Zeratul.
Once her rule was uncontested, the Queen of Blades betrayed them all. Billions of humans and protoss were killed. The Zerg stood unchallenged, much to the relief of all. The war seemed to end there. Zeratul suspected the zerg had fallen under the control of dark forces. He and his student uncovered prophecies stating that an ancient entity, Amon, was attempting to merge protoss and zerg life forms into an unholy hybrid. And this evil might already have control of Kerrigan and her power.
It was during this time that Executor Artanis, hailed as a hero, was made leader of both the Templar and Dark Templar, with Executor Valdarin being his closest advisor. As Hierarch, Artanis united both factions and promised to one day reclaim the glory they had lost on Aiur.
Raynor vowed to see Kerrigan dead. But his retaliatory strike failed. Even his rebellion against Mengsk's tyranny proved ineffective against the Dominion propaganda machine. While former Magistrate Sheridan, tired of all the bloodshed and worried about the survivors of Tarsonis and newly arrived colonists from Earth, went into hiding with former Confederate and UED forces, hoping to rebuild.
Now, three years later, Kerrigan and the zerg have remained ominously silent, while the Dominion has grown in power and extended its influence throughout the Koprulu Sector. On the world of Chau Sara, John Raynor helped the colonists by becoming an outlaw and raiding Kel-Morian operations. But fate, it seems, has given him a greater part to play.
The wastelands, Chau Sara
2503, August 1st
The sun was a merciless yellow, glaring down at a landscape of rock, hard-baked earth, the hardiest of scrub brush, and the most stubborn of life forms. There was not a single cloud in the fiercely blue sky to mitigate the intensity of its gaze, and the promise of relief in the form of nightfall was many hours away.
Movement cut through this barren desert; silvery and sleek, it looked almost like water flowing through a valley, but it was nothing so natural or pleasant. The swollen sun's rays glinted harshly on the metallic train as it twined, snake-like, soaring through the wastelands toward its final destination, where it would disgorge precious cargo.
Two figures waited in the cool shelter of a cave, watching the silvery serpentine object. They were silent, but it was an easy silence, and the only sound was the inhalation of one of them as he sucked smoke from a glowing cigar one final time, dropped the stogie, and crushed it out with a single step from a massive boot.
"Let's go ride that pony," said Jessie Cassidy.
Next to him, not in any way a small teen but looking comparatively tiny next to the giant that Cassidy was, was a shaggy-haired, young teen who was already sitting astride a vulture hoverbike. He gave his companion a firm nod of his head.
"Then we'd better get moving, friend Cassidy," he said, kicking the bike into gear and charging down the sloping ravine toward the maglev swore, jumped on his own bike, and took off after John Raynor at a reckless speed.
It was at times like this that John Raynor, son of former marine lance corporal and rebel leader Jim Raynor, former apprentice of the revered dark prelate Zeratul, veteran of the brood wars, and last but not least, erstwhile outlaw and rebel, felt most alive. At the speed at which he was urging the vulture, the wind cooled his face so that the oppressive heat vanished. He felt like a wolf hunting down his prey, except the purpose of today's adventure was not the death of a living being but the death of Cassidy's and John's wallet. This was a cargo train, not a passenger train, and inside its silvery innards was—if Cassidy's tip was right, as John had every reason to believe it would be—a very large, very lovely safe filled with KMC credits. As for him, it was much-needed information.
"Why, it's a rescue mission, Johnny," Cassidy had rumbled, his brown eyes dancing with good humor as he had filled Raynor in on the plan. "Those poor creds—they'd just be condemned to lining the pockets of some Kel-Morian who don't need any more money." or else used in a nefarious scheme that could harm 's our responsibility—no, it's our calling—to give them enough credibility to do something truly meaningful.
"Like buying yourself drinks, Terran females, and sneaky dinners?"
"That's a good start." and its pronunciation is "steak."
"You've got a difficult heart, Cassidy." "I will never understand the motivational effects of Terran greed."
"It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it."
John thinned as he recalled the conversation.
He and Cassidy were behind the train, catching up to it quickly. He stayed right, and Cassidy veered left. Cassidy crossed over the maglev tracks, adjusting the magnetic frequency on his bike to compensate so that he, like the train itself, could cross easily. John increased his speed, moving alongside the right car that came into view. He and Cassidy had spent hours analyzing all kinds of transportation vessels over the last few days, sometimes simply from blueprints and images, but usually up close and personal, as they were about to do now. Cassidy's gang had liberated other credits before; it seemed to them like hundreds of thousands over the years never seemed to stay with them very long. Cassidy said that was alright too. It was part of the ride that life had become.
"Careful boy. "Don't move ahead too fast," came Cassidy's gravelly voice in his ear. "I ain't coming back for you if you drop in on the wrong car."
John grinned. "You amuse me, friend, Cassidy." You'd simply take all the credit and flee to the nearest bar."
"Damn straight. "So hit the mark."
The timing was crucial. John sped up even more, glancing down at his controls to see the small dot that represented Cassidy doing the same. He knew they were mirror images of each other, doing this as often as they had over the past two years.
"Upsy-daisy," Cassidy said. In unison, they hit the lifts and rose vertically, so the vultures—customized within an inch of their lives—were now flying, if not as high as their namesakes, then at least slightly higher than the train's roof. The uniquely modified hoverbikes landed, bumped the top of the train, and landed again, and the two men had them clamped and locked down within half a second—the magnetic locks were also custom-installed for exactly this purpose. They leaped off the bikes. Next step: getting to the back car, climbing down, opening the door, and seeing who comprised the welcoming committee.
At the precise instant, the train took a bend and brought them right into a crosscurrent of wind. The sudden, sharp movement threw John off balance. He fell hard and started sliding toward the edge. Cassidy's gloved hand shot out and grabbed the neck of John's vest while he threw himself down, reached up, and seized the secured vulture.
John jolted to a halt. Adrenaline shot through him, but not fear. He'd done this before, too, and he was prepared. He took a second to get his bearings, then pointed. One hand on the bike, the other clutching John, the bigger man moved John about a third of a meter until he was facing the end of the car rather than the side.
"Hold my legs!" Raynor called out to Cassidy.
Cassidy grunted, releasing the vest collar, then grabbing first John's belt and then his ankle as Raynor slid forward.
Raynor pressed a button and activated the powerful magnets embedded in his vest. Between these and Cassidy's near-bone-crunching grip on his ankle, Raynor wasn't going anywhere. Normally he'd try to drop down on the small platform at the back of the car, but the train was still going through what seemed to be a damned wind tunnel, and time was of the essence once they'd landed with what had to have been an audible thump on the roof of the thing. Raynor stretched forward far enough to place one arm on the ground and felt around quickly but it was: the top of the door. It's not the ideal place to plant the explosive, but it will have to do.
He fished out the small device from his pocket, slapped it on the door as far down as he could put it, deactivated the mag grips, and yelled, "Pull back! Pull back!"
Cassidy yanked him back so hard that the exposed part of John's arms burned from wasn't comfortable, but he didn't mind too much, as he was safely away from the explosion, which shot black smoke and bits of debris in all directions.
"Don't suppose you've got anything resembling a look-see?"
"Unfortunately no, but I do sense two overwatch guards in the next car," John said. Still lying down, he grabbed his pistol from his holster, shot Cassidy a serious expression, and said, "What? "Are you so scared of confronting a bunch of KMC mercenaries, friend Cassidy?"
"Not me, boy," Cassidy said. His own weapon was strapped to his back. He reached and pulled out a canister rifle that looked as mean as Cassidy himself.
"Let's go."
Cassidy dropped to his belly beside John, and they let the very speed of the train move them forward. They slid to the edge, and at the last minute, each man shot out a hand, gripped the top of the train, and flipped down, somersaulting into the cabin, ready to attack. They were greeted by no one.
"Aw, shit, Johnny," Cassidy said. "This ain't the car with the safe!"
Indeed, it was not. It was crammed to the brim with cargo: instruments, statuary, and furniture, all carefully wrapped up and secured. There was no doubt that there was a fortune here, but they couldn't do anything about it.
John half expected Cassidy to slap the back of his head, but the man was already moving forward to the end of the car. "You were supposed to have done your research," Cassidy muttered.
"I did," Raynor said. "Seventeenth car. They must have changed.
John was following, pistol out but pointed down, when a curious shape caught his eye. Cassidy was wrestling with the door, so he permitted himself to pull back the protective covering. His eyes went wide. "We're going to have to blast this one too; it looks like—Johnny, what the hell are you doing back there?"
Raynor paid him no heed. He tugged more, and the covering slipped away.
"Now this is interesting," he said in surprise as his eyes took in the shape of the shuttle in front of him.
"You say something catches your eye every time you visit," Cassidy muttered, but swung his head back to see what had John so distracted."What the hell is that?"
John felt as though he was having a strange experience, and indeed the item he was gazing at was a robot of some kind but not of any Terran design he was familiar with, but it reminded him of one of those advertisement robots he saw on Korhol. Except it was larger and reached as high as his waist, and it has three legs, two on each side and a smaller one underneath.
"I have no idea; it looks like one of those cleaning bots, but I've never seen a model like this before, but... I'm pretty sure it's an intelligence drone of some kind." Raynor said, reaching out a gloved hand to touch the curving metal construct.
"I am no more enlightened than I was before Johnny," Cassidy growled, "and time is wasting."
"This drone may have information, classified files, confederate codes, or better yet, Dominion supply depots, that could help the rebels of Mar Sara in their fight against the Dominion," Raynor explained. "Information that might be worth hundreds of thousands to the right person who is willing to pay for it
"You and your information gathering for the rebel cause are a farce.""First the hand cannon, second classified files, now this." They had done one robbery, early on, of the summer home of one of the lesser brass of the Dominion military. The place had been oozing valuable antiques, and when Raynor had stumbled across a rare UED officer revolver or hand cannon, he'd had to have it. It went with him constantly, although he had more unique weapons as well. Getting the bullets made for the thing was expensive, so he only fired it in the most desperate of situations.
The second heist was on a KMC salvage operation on what's left of Flannum Installation, where they had disguised themselves as construction workers. It was difficult at first because of how young John was. However, since he was trained by the Nerazim and was psionic to boot, he was able to infiltrate the facility easily. It took them a moment to find that stash of Khaydarin crystals, but once he discovered a computer containing Dominion security codes, he tried to hack into it. setting off the alarm in the process. It quickly turned into a fight to the finish after that fiasco.
Cassidy had rolled his eyes in the same way he was rolling them now. "Nice history lesson, rebel leader. Now, let's get our asses out of here. We've still got a safe to blow."
Cassidy was right. The young Raynor gave the strange machine a final pat and turned to follow Cassidy.
Finally, with a muttered grunt and a well-placed heave of his shoulder, Cassidy opened the door, stepped out, placed the second explosive device on the door of the car ahead of them, and then ducked back into the car after John. Both of them ran for cover as the device detonated.
Raynor grimaced for three reasons. One, they usually only brought four sets of explosive devices with them: one to blow the door, one to blow whatever safe they were trying to open, and two as backups. which they had just used. There had better be only one last door between them and their goal, or else the Dominion credits would not get liberated after all. Two, they'd have to make a stand here, in this room, and the drone might get hit. For once in his life, he found he was unreasonably distressed by the thought. But hide it behind a mask of stoic silence so Cassidy won't see it. And lastly, he left his personal energy shield at the gang's hideout.
Even before the smoke cleared, the first few rounds of gauss-rifle fire came through the blown-open doors, spraying down the contents of the room. There was a clang as metal struck and pierced metal, and pieces of wood splintered and flew up in the air. Crouched down behind what seemed to be an upright piano, Raynor didn't dare raise his head to see if the drone had taken any damage. He'd find out soon enough.
Cassidy, with a roar, rapidly closed the distance between himself and the guards and began slamming them with the butt of his rifle. They were completely taken off guard, having expected an in-kind firefight and not anticipating that they would be rushed by an apparent madman. At such close quarters, they couldn't fire lest they harm one another, and Cassidy and John whooped as they either knocked the hapless fellows unconscious or tossed them off the train through the open doors.
Cassidy kicked the rifle out of the final guard's hands, gave him two quick punches, one with each hand, and then picked up the larger man and chucked him out. He turned back, grinning and exaggeratedly dusting off his hands. John shot him an answering grin, then looked around, making sure that it had survived unscathed. Raynor let out a breath of relief and then realized something. something he was going to have to tell Cassidy and that his friend would definitely not like. But that was later.
Now they surged forward, stepping over bodies to jump into the next car. There it was: a huge safe, big as life, a gleaming metallic box that filled up half the car. And in front of the car, his eyes wide and his arms spread out as if he could actually protect the thing with his skinny body, stood not a KMC guard but a mousy man in a uniform that marked him as a government employee.
Cassidy blinked, his weapon trained on the man Raynor's was, but it didn't fire. "Son," he said, transferring the rifle to one hand and reaching into his pocket, "Would you mind telling me just what the hell you think you're doing standing there?"
The man was trembling so hard that John marveled that he could even stand erect. "Sir," he said, his voice shaking, "I am a duly retained employee of the DBPMVI, and I very, very much regret to inform you that I cannot permit you to take the contents of this safe."
Cassidy paused, an unlit cigar halfway to his mouth. "That's a mouthful of letters. Son? "You don't want to be fooling around with old Jessie Cassidy."
The man went milk-pale. "Oh, dear," he managed. Clearly, he knew the name. His watery blue eyes darted over to John Raynor, then back to Cassidy. He swallowed hard as Cassidy put the cigar between his lips, lit it, and took a puff. "Mr. Cassidy, Mr. Raynor, sirs. If this was my stack of Dominion credits, I can't tell you how honored I would feel if you were the ones to steal it from me. But this doesn't belong to me. "It belongs to the government of the Terran Dominion, and I am charged as an employee of the Dominion Bureau of Protection of Monies and Valuable Items with making sure it arrives safely at its destination."
Cassidy and John exchanged blank stares, one puffing, the other shifted, following Cassidy's lead and also lowering his weapon. For a long moment, the only sounds were the rumble of the train and Cassidy's sucking on the cigar. Finally, Cassidy laughed a deep chuckle that started in his chest and finally exploded in a loud guffaw.
"Son, you've got balls; I'll give you that. I've never seen anyone stand up to me like that, let alone someone so small and without a weapon."What's your name?"
"G-George Woodley," the man stammered, starting to look cautiously optimistic that he might actually survive the encounter.
"You are married, George Woodley, of the Dominion Bureau of Protection of Monies and Valuable Items?" Got kids?"
"Yes, sir, to both." "I got me a wonderful wife and two beautiful children."
"Well, George Woodly," Cassidy said, "you just put me in a good mood." And I tend not to kill people who do that. "So if you'll just step aside, we'll blow this safe, and the Dominion Bureau of Protection of Monies and Valuable Items won't have to send a sad letter to your wife and kids."
The man's thin, ferrety face fell. "Oh, dear," he said again. "I'm so sorry, but I just can't do that."
While John admired the man for taking his duty so seriously, this had gone too far. He lifted his pistol. "Mr. Woodley, we've gone to an awful lot of trouble today to get these credits. "I'm pretty sure that the DBPMV doesn't pay you enough to stand there and get shot defending credits that belong to rich people."
"Well, sir, that might be true, but you probably ought to know that Marshal Tikes Bulter has been notified of the attack on this train and should be here shortly to attempt to take the both of you into custody."
Cassidy let out another guffaw. "We ain't scared of ol' Butler," he said. "You're going to have to come up with a better bogeyman than him if you want to frighten us away."
Tikes Bulter, the third son of Wilkes Bulter, the one who took his uncle to prison, had been like a dog nipping at their heels for the last couple of months. Once or twice, Raynor had to admit, the marshal had almost gotten them. But with every "encounter," he and Cassidy had the opportunity to study the man and observe his methods. While Tikes Bulter was no one's fool, he hadn't managed to nab them, and that last bit was all that John and Cassidy cared about. As Cassidy once put it while smoking a cigar and fondling a buxom beauty perched on his lap, "The only thing that counts is where you end up." "Almost," "could have been," and "should have been" don't mean anything.
John put on a worried expression for Woodley's benefit. "I don't think that's wise, friend Cassidy," he said. "If Marshal Butler and his men are on their way, maybe we should just leave while we still can."
Cassidy turned, brows drawing together in a scowl that had frightened braver men than Woodley, who emitted a whimper and then clapped his hands over his mouth.
"You're talking like a yellow coward there, Johnny," Cassidy said. "But you got one thing right." We should leave, but we're taking that money with us. "We just have to get this little rodent out of our way, and then we can go."
He lifted his rifle and pointed it at Woodley. John felt a twinge of pity for the brave but ultimately foolish government man as he closed his eyes and attacked.
It came.
How do you like it? I hope this is better than the other remakes. And for the machine, here's a little spoiler: it's an astromech droid, but of an older series, mind you, and one you might be familiar with. And no I am not going to do that starcraft is better than star wars or star wars is better than Starcraft bullshit. Kinda sick of it of reading it in fact.
To me, both sides have their pros and cons in both ground combat and space combat so I'll let you readers decide, okay? Good.
Anyway, leave a review or a comment. Adios.