"ProtectorofAiur: Can I still see your boobs?"
-Drefsab
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| The Pastain Chronicles | | | Author: | | | IP: | XXXX | | Date: | 07/29/99 02:07 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | Starcraft(1), Text Only(1), Fan Fiction(1) | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 2, Max: 6, Min: 1
Lifetime Rating for KitNorja: 6.1667 |   |
The Pastain Chronicles
A story of an elite Terran Commando Group.
Dalar Sara had always been his home, he was born and raised on the planet, in the city of Hewal. During his adolescence, the 'bad guys' had always been terrorists, murderers, and the like. Now the baddies were the Zerg. They had already wiped out Mar Sara, all of the colonists there were either dead or had retreated, mostly the former. Now he, Marcus Norlet, was enlisted, at the young age of twenty-two. As were most of his buddies. His parents and the rest of his family had already been evac-ed earlier this week. He missed them, but he would get used to it he thought.
A loud slam of a fist on a table awoke him from his day-dreaming.
"Listen up, fellas…" Squad Commander Jason Wellton started.
The Zerg are coming. Thought Marcus. A confused look came over his face, he had known what Wellton was going to say before he said it. Well, everyone did, but he could tell exactly when the words were going to form in the Commander's mouth, how he would say them. It was if he could read the man's mind.
Hm. Interesting.
"…the Zerg are coming." Wellton continued. "They've been spotted by a scout in the southern hemisphere. It is our job, our duty, to allow as much time as possible to get the rest of the civilians out of here."
Marcus looked around the Barracks. There were some blank looks on the faces of the newest kids, but on most the others it was just a cold stare.
"We've got a pretty good defensive set up here. We are on a hill, which works for our interests. As you all know, we've got three main walls, with bunkers in front of and tanks behind them. We are gonna be in part of the first line of bunkers, with the 21st Armored Division as our backup, thirty tanks strong.
"Alright! Those tanks'll nail those bastards!" one of the newest recruits yelled out.
"We sure hope so, Private."
"How many craft in the air-force, Commander?" someone mumbled from the back.
"We're a good twelve Wraiths strong, plus an immense amount of Dropships to get us out of here."
"Good."
"Okay boys, we've got just under forty-five minutes before the Zerg hit, suit up, and get to your assigned bunkers, which I have here." He plopped down ten print outs, each printout for a bunker, with four names in a column. He slowly turned and headed towards the door.
He turned back again, catching the attention of everyone.
"Oh and, good luck men. Give'em hell." He gave one last curt salute, then turned on his heels, continuing out the door.
I suited up quickly. I slipped into the brand-spanking new black suit, highlighted with red on the shoulders, breast plates, and other various parts of the suit. Our squadron were one of three to get the new suits, which had slightly better armor than the older Type 2's. I looked over each of the men in our group, giving a silent nod or gesture, knowing it may be the last time I saw any of them. Or anyone for that matter.
My rifle was sitting next to me, gleaming with polish, loaded the full 150 rounds. I picked it up, feeling its surface with my gloved hands, going over every inch of it, to make sure nothing catastrophic like an overload would happen. It was perfect.
"Okay boys, move out!" Came over the intercom.
I smiled. Always like the Commander to be sweet to us.
We all filed out of the Barracks, our fates unknown to us, but we all secretly knew that many wouldn't come back from this one.
NOTE: I keep getting 's at the beginning and ending of each line. Why? Can anyone fix it?
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