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| Crisis on Arridas - 01 (Introductions) | | | Author: | | | IP: | 238.baltXXXX | | Date: | 07/20/00 08:07 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 7, Min: 7
Lifetime Rating for Moogle: 7.2500 |  | Ahem... Anyway, here is this work from the *original* author, thanks to everybody who helped ferret out the imposter.
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Crisis on Arridas
A Brood War Continuation (sort of) fiction
01 - Introductions
By: Moogle (tealkeeper@yahoo.com)
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Disclaimer: StarCraft, Brood War, and all related characters, concepts, and locations are originally created and copyrighted to Blizzard Entertainment. Any new characters, concepts, and plot are that of the author, Moogle.
AN: My first publicly posted StarCraft fiction. It’s a continuation to Brood War in that it takes place after the Battle on Char, but the characters from Brood War aren’t going to be much more than mentioned for at least a few chapters, if I decide to include them in the fic at all. This fiction is being written while I take a break from the SM universe, so I don’t know how long it’ll be or last. Hopefully you enjoy!
* * *
The Firebat sighed in exhaustion, for the umpteenth time that week. They’d been repelling attacks for days now, losing a little ground, gaining some the next attack, all the while losing a few men each time. They wouldn’t be able to keep replacing the casualties at the rate they had been.
“Kilimaro to Command. What’s the report after that last one?” he asked into his comm system. The latest attack had been repulsed mere minutes before, all of the lines hadn’t even time to recover.
“Goddamnit, Mack. Can’t you see we’re trying our best in here? These bastards just keep coming and coming, there’s nothing we can do about it!” came the infuriated reply. A few stragglers were still in the process of being weeded out; Mack Kilimaro, firebat, heard a siege tank ring out as it fired.
“That’s not good enough for my men, Erai! It’s only a matter of time before they hit us with a huge attack and we all die – or maybe worse, if those bastards get in here and infest us like Kerrigan!” he shouted angrily. As a Sergeant Major in the Dominion Infantry Corps, he was one of the highest ranking survivors in the corps at that time. There had been a couple of local command posts, but they seemed to be the first to go. Massive Ultralisks swarmed them one at a time, the company command staff opted to set off the explosives in the bunker rather than be ripped to shreds by the massive claws of the beasts. Quite the noble sacrifice, though none of them would be able to remember it if they didn’t make it off the blasted rock alive.
A sigh was heard on the other side of the line. “Dammit. Reset the fire trenches, make sure all of the vehicle pilots are well rested. We’ll try to get some more men out to your line, but this whole fucking rock is lost if we can’t hold our mineral fields. The bastards are still hitting us out here…shit!” The line went dead for a second and gunfire was heard. Colonel Erai Nalkri got back on the line, heaving another sigh, this time of relief. “That was close…”
“What the hell happened?” Mack asked. There was some genuine concern in his voice. Though he’d never show it fully in front of his subordinates, he did consider the Colonel a friend. The two had both grown up on Mar Sara, the only two from that planet in the entire battalion. They had actually enlisted at the same time, though Erai being a skilled Wraith pilot meant me moved up through the ranks quicker. Mack well knew that infantry were cheap and expendable, but the greedy bastards way up top actually cared about the pilots and their ships.
“Little bitch unburrowed right in the goddamn Command Center. Nearly sliced up Bruenner, the bastard. I tell you, Mack, these little pricks are getting smarter…” The Colonel answered, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. With that Mack knew it had been REALLY close. It took a lot to shake up the Colonel.
Almost fondly, he remembered previous fights where he had been with the Sons of Korhal, fighting to end the corrupt Confederacy. In that sortie, the Colonel led his wing straight into battle, wiped out half the damn base himself. Those were the good days. Before the morbid times. Before the Zerg. In retrospect, he’d realized the Confederacy hadn’t been that bad. At least, not compared to Mengsk, the swine. Erai and Mack had come into Mengsk’s service as they followed Captain James Raynor, but were reassigned out of the infamous Raider Corps.much to Raynor’s chagrin. Then he remembered his conversation with the Colonel and his nostalgia was cut short.
“Anything we can do on this end, sir?” Mack reverted to the more formal name as if he felt guilty for not doing so before.
“Keep your men ready for anything. Dominion Headquarters should be sending reinforcements later today. You’ll be the first to know when they get here.” The Colonel promised.
Mack knew technically that wasn’t true, but he knew what his commanding officer meant, and that the other man would never knowingly lie to him. After all, he thought, if the infantry lines failed, it wouldn’t be long before the command post became the front line. “Ten Four. Kilimaro out.”
He sighed as he shut down the communications link. *This is going to be a long, long day… Not like any other days are any shorter…* Walking out of the communications bunker, he broke into a whistle as he headed off to inspect various areas of the company’s defense line. There was no sense in alarming the rest of the troops by himself being worried. Though he had a feeling most of them already knew anyway, he felt like it was an obligation to continue the charade.
* * *
Since the Zerg had first been discovered by the now-defunct Confederacy, scientists from nearly every Terran faction had attempted, with various success, experiments on the alien species. First and foremost was the Confederacy themselves, who failed utterly in trying to hide the existence of the Zerg. Not much was known about what the Confederacy themselves had done, as most of the scientists on that team were either slaughtered by their own experiments or executed as Mengsk’s rebelling forces swept through their facilities. A few had survived even that to join the Dominion, but their silence had been bought. All anyone knew was that the experiments should not be repeated. The first strikes made against the Kel-Morian Combine and Umojan Protectorate were actually successfully repelled, a few Zerg captured and experimented upon. Much was learned then about what makes the Zerg tick, their psionic link to the Overmind, and what happens when that link was severed. The latter only occurred through luck in that the Overmind mysteriously disappeared. The scientists later had learned it was due to the death of the Overmind at the hand of a valiant Protoss named Tassadar. The facilities in which these experiments were conducted, though heavily guarded, were not secret nor were they invulnerable to attack. The Combine and the Protectorate knew it would not be long before an attack came from somewhere, so they released the entire findings of their experiments to the rest of the human beings – in the name of survival for the species, moreso than their particular organizations.
That was the first real large-scale act of kindness by any Terran ruling government since the Zerg invaded. Of course there were kind Terrans within them, examples of which being Raynor and the UED’s Vice Admiral Stukov, but there was no unifying factor until the UED showed up. Sadly, the facility was one of the first to go when the massive fleet arrived from Earth. Not many of the scientists survived to flee, many of them remained in hiding. And it was with that data that the UED began their own experiments with the Zerg, which had probably met with the greatest short-term success. For a time, the UED actually succeeded in what they were trying to do – that is, take control of the new Overmind which had been formed by several of the old cerebrates, led by Daggoth. It worked until the Queen of Blades, Kerrigan (or as she refers to herself, the Queen Bitch of the Universe,) came along and destroyed that Overmind while using the poor Protoss and Terrans as her pawns. Alas, the UED Scientists responsible for that foul-up were dead with the decimation of that fleet as it tried to retreat. Two months had passed since the defeat of Mengsk’s armada at Char. No new offensives had been launched by anybody in the Koprulu Sector, though existing ones, like the battle on Arridas that had been going on for nearly a year. It was fought first by the Confederacy’s Nova Squadron, then Mengsk’s Alpha Squadron, UED’s Epsilon Squadron, and after that, the Aquaritia Battalion, presently under the command of one Colonel Erai Nalkri. Another story in itself, how he came to be in charge.
Stephen Lansing was the chief scientist in Aquaritia Battalion. At that particular time, he was in his lab, making some observations onto a tape to be recorded back later. In the history of experimentation on the Zerg, Stephen and his team were the only ones to meet with success in the one field that had never before been tried – studying the Zerg mind. The risk factor for his experiments, other than the fact that he had to be in a battlezone to perform them, was quite minimal. He only required Zerg that were already dead to do his experimentation. Through a stroke of pure genius and a bit of luck, he and his team of engineers had developed a machine that could read not only the current thoughts in a mind, but could access the memories of the brain without needing to go through the barriers naturally set up by the brain. The project, led by Stephen and his most trusted advisor, a 27-year old female by the name of Jennifer Solaris (whom Stephen, himself only 30, was attracted to, but nobody would come to find that out easily,) had been originally started by the old Confederacy who wanted to use it as a revolutionary new interrogation tool. However, in one of his rare good executive decisions, Emperor Arcturus Mengsk I placed the project in the hands of Stephen and his team. Immediately it was revamped into it’s current state, keeping the old data to do what they could with it. Luckily, since not a soul really cared about the Zerg, they could experiment freely on dead corpses and not have to worry about an outcry.
Hence why Stephen was presently making recordings, so his success could be documented for generations to come. He wasn’t really in it for the survival of the species, though that was a nice plus to his work, he supposed. Nor was he completely in it for the fame, though he figured that would help him find a wife once he was done with everything. No, Stephen simply did it because he loved the work. Sometimes, one would think he’d be completely wrapped up in his work such that he wouldn’t notice someone quietly entering the room. This was not the case.
“Let me guess. You want another status report.” He said with disgust as he paused the tape recorder. It took a second, but then Mack Kilimaro appeared in front of him.
“Jesus! How the hell did you know I was there?” The firebat asked in disbelief. He wasn’t used to people keen on the senses. The only others he knew were those psychic Ghosts, but they tended not to like other infantrymen as they were “superior” due to their talents. It annoyed Mack greatly, but so long as they did their jobs he didn’t have to complain.
“A good scientist knows every minute detail about his lab. The smell altered slightly, so I knew it was you coming in.” Stephen replied flatly.
Mack blinked a couple of times before continuing. *Scientists…* he thought to himself, *very, very weird people. * Then he cleared his throat a bit. “Well, to answer your question, no, I don’t want an official status report.”
Stephen scowled. “Then what, pray tell, is it that you DO want?” Annoyance crept into the scientist’s voice as he asked his question.
“As a man first and a leader of men second, I would like to know how your experiments are coming. Your work may determine whether we live or die, Doctor.” Mack admitted, not sure why he did so. He felt as if he could trust the scientist.
At this, the other man lightened up considerably. He wasn’t being bugged by bureaucracy, which he hated almost as much as the aliens trying to kill him. He also knew that Mack wasn’t a part of that bureaucracy; the man was a soldier. But that didn’t change how he always felt inside. “First experiments are looking good. Give me a week and we might have something tangible for you to work with.”
“Dammit…” Mack said underneath his breath. He cleared his throat and spoke up again. “Doctor, we might not even have a week if these reinforcements don’t get here soon. What if the Zerg breakthrough before then?”
There was no emotion in Stephen’s reply. The seriousness of it almost scared Mack. “Then I pick up a gun and fight with the rest of you.”
The firebat nodded solemnly. “Good luck then, Doctor. For all of our sakes.” He turned and exited from the laboratory, letting the good doctor back to his experiments. He found himself wishing that he’d gone to Dr. Lansing last when checking up on his department heads. But there was nothing he could do about that now. Off he went to the next place.
Dr. Stephen Lansing, meanwhile, unpaused the tape recorder and got back to work as if he’d never been interrupted. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was slightly more motivated since the visit from the firebat.
* * *
Ever since the twentieth century back on Earth, the human race had an affinity for motorized vehicles. This did not change, even at such a great distance away from their species’ original home. The stereotype hadn’t even changed – still, the most proficient people with vehicles were men in their fifties, with nothing better to do but tinker, fix, and tinker some more. As such, the Aquaritia Battalion’s Machine Corps, led by Chief Engineer George Halsey, was one of the Dominion’s most efficient groups of it’s kind. Vehicles, whether they were Vultures or Battlecruisers, were fixed faster than could be imagined. The men worked as a team and it showed greatly.
It was for that reason that Mack tended not to like interrupting them ever, but it was a job that had to be done. If he didn’t find out how they were operating, he wouldn’t be able to use that knowledge to benefit the rest of the men, and thus would doom all of them. He well knew if they didn’t fortify their lines soon, they’d all die the next time the Zerg felt like attacking. Mack held each of his departments on the same level, as to how he treated them, but they’d still all bitch at them if he harassed them about progress too often. He couldn’t help it, it was his job. Somehow he figured they understood.
“Yo, George, anything new going on?” Mack asked as he strode into the motor pool a few minutes after his conversation with Dr. Lansing.
Cursing up a storm, George’s head appeared out from underneath a Goliath body he was working on. “Confound it all, Kilimaro! What in all creation do you want now?”
“What kind of capacity are we at for fixing all of our busted up stuff?” The firebat inquired once more, a demanding tone beginning to creep into his voice. He needed to let the other man know subtly that he meant business this time, he wasn’t there just to take a bunch of misdirected frustration venting.
“Capacity? What capacity?” The mechanic began laughing maniacally. “Confound it, Mack. There aren’t any bleeping vehicles to fix! The bleeping Zerg are bleeping destroying every bleeping last one! They’re either totaled entirely or fully functional! We’ve only got six – SIX – in here to fix, and we’re down to a grand total of a little less than two hundred for the entire battalion. We used to have two bleeping thousand, dang it!”
“Easy, George. It’s not my fault, you know? I’m just the messenger!” Mack responded. His face wore a bemused expression, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be angry or begin laughing at the outburst he’d just witnessed.
“The messenger always gets shot.” The mechanic retorted. Mack stared at him, then he laughed a bit. “Lighten up, hey? It’s the only thing we can do to keep our minds off of all those bleeping Zerg out there. Look, we’re fixing up the bleeping vehicles as fast as we bleeping can, and we’re still somehow managing to build bleeping new ones. It ain’t getting much better than this.”
“Would more parts help?”
“More pa…hey, what do you mean? Where would we get them?” George began, then changed tones as what Mack said registered with him.
“You didn’t hear this from me, but reinforcements are supposed to be arriving later today. Don’t get your hopes up though, George. We’ve heard that many times before…” Mack said warily. Immediately as he said it, he regretted it. But he knew if there was one person who could keep a level head about things, it was the most senior of all of them.
“Yeah, yeah, I know all about that stuff. But I don’t want to fight these bleepers any more than you do. I’ll have the boys double-time it, but I don’t know how much it’ll help.” George said with a sigh.
Mack saluted his subordinate and turned to leave. As he did so, he heard George’s voice again.
“Hey, Mack?” The firebat tilted his head around to acknowledge the mechanic. “We’re behind you all the way. Good luck.”
“Yeah, thanks…” he said quietly. George barely heard the statement from five feet away. A bit more confident than he was when he came in, Mack left to check in with the final department of the run before assigning orders.
* * *
Even since before the old Confederacy had created the Ghost program to identify and train individuals with psychic talents, those in it had been loners. As they grew up, their talents tended to make people call them "freaks”. The lure had been there from day one – promised salary and job security, all for something that had made them be ridiculed previously. Their minds, wanting to hear anything other than the constant teasing they’d gotten forever, were ready to believe anything. Hence why they made such deadly warriors, they were easily made loyal to the cause. Their natural talents made them intelligent and worthy of all the special training in areas like canister rifles, and the special techniques able to be used by them. About two percent of people without psychic powers also had the intelligence to get into the Ghost program, and only about half of them were physically able to withstand the rigors of battle.
Lieutenant Dimitri Pyakov was one of the few. The normal men who became Ghosts tended to be less loyal, more in it for the personal glory of it all. Glory was why he’d first joined, but after he first experienced battle on the fields of Char months ago, it morphed quickly. He understood what his parents had always told him about a sense of honor, fighting for what is right. At times it made him wonder why he was under the service of Arcturus Mengsk, who had time and time again shown he had little care other than for his personal well-being. Such was evidenced by the betrayal of the valiant forces on Tarsonis, his utter incompetence in starting the whole conflict with the UED, and failing to eliminate Kerrigan on Char two months prior. He was glad of one thing, that he was assigned to the Aquaritia Battalion now. From what he’d observed, they were probably the least loyal to Mengsk’s corrupt cause of any division, but the most efficient. His paranoid side told him that perhaps Mengsk was gathering all of the non-believers in one battalion just to be placed in a no-win scenario. But with no evidence to substantiate that theory, he dismissed it from the tip of his brain but kept thinking about it.
He got along well with his superior officer there, who was of course Mack. The few other Ghosts with them, a small yet greatly important part of the battalion’s offense, happily followed the orders he relayed to them, so it worked out. That was why he tended to usually be happy when he saw Mack himself strolling in.
“Good afternoon, sir! Anything I can do for you?” He asked casually, snapping to attention upon the entrance of his commanding officer.
Mack returned the salute. “At ease, Lieutenant. Top says check on the individual departments of the company, so you know how that goes…”
The Ghost eased up noticeably. When not in his Ghost uniform, he looked just like a normal soldier on the outside. He scowled a bit before responding. “Why do they need to keep bugging us, sir? If that’s okay to ask.”
“It’s Mack unless I say otherwise, eh Dimitri?” Mack requested, a smile on his face as he said it.
“Yes, s—Mack.” Dimitri stuttered, not used to the informality from all of his rigorous military discipline.
“Anyway, as to why I’m here, Command seems to think the big raid is coming, like, soon. They want me to make sure everybody’s as ready as they’re getting.”
“When are they going to realize the sooner they leave us the hell alone, the sooner we figure this shit out?” Dimitri asked rhetorically, drawing a laugh from Mack. “Anyway, most of my men are still alive with functioning equipment. Only got one nuke silo left, the Zerg bastards wiped out the others. I swear, they have intelligence, it seemed like they were after them specifically last time…” He trailed off. Both men shuddered at the thought. Dimitri continued. “Damn canister rifles don’t do much good against those big suckers, though. Even combined we won’t do much if they bust our lines.”
Mack nodded. “They won’t break the lines, not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Unfortunately Mack, you may not.” The Ghost stated grimly. He wasn’t one to get caught up in fantasies of things that were never going to happen.
If Dimitri’s words fazed Mack, he didn’t show it on the outside. “Well, get back to work, Lieutenant. I’m off to prep the primary lines. Gotta reset the damn fire trench again…” He mumbled as he walked out.
“Damn it…it’s going to be another long day…” Dimitri whispered to himself when he was alone again.
He had no idea how right he was.
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