"Man I suck."
-DisgruntledApe
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| Nightmare above Dylar IV | | | Author: | | | IP: | 24.66.17XXXX | | Date: | 07/24/00 05:07 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 7, Min: 7
Lifetime Rating for [LoR]-Napoleic: 7.3333 |  | The CWS Avenger was in a high orbit over Dylar IV, one of the main bases of power of the Confederacy. The Battlecruiser was low on supplies: Emergency compressed air cannisters, foodstuffs, and emergency repair crews, (They had mostly been evaporated by that damn carrier as they tried to batton down a loose outer plate). It was here that it was to refuel.
Matt Harmon, the lead mechanic of the yamato drive, scowled impatiently.
"Jeezus where the hell is that thing?"
"Dunno boss, guess it'll get here when it gets here", replied his second in command and best friend, Travis Bouten.
"Well goddamn I don't know how they think that beast is going to fire without it's actuator. Fucking skinnies just had to hit that. Jeesus!"
It was obvious that he was very upset by the lack of an actuator, but that was his way. He cared about his job, and he took a lot of pride in it, and when he couldn't do it, he got frustrated very quickly.
"Okay mate, well take it easy. You know it'll work out in the end."
That's Travis, he was always laid back, a balance to his boss's fiery temper.
Colonel Regehr sat back in his chair contentedly. As cheif intelligence officer, his work was brief, but very exciting when it did come. The ghost sipped some lemonade as he rifled through his files. He thought back to a week ago, as he partook in his most dangerous and important mission yet...
The ghost slipped quietly through the corridors, eyes ever alert and aware. The strange technology was unnerving but he kept his cool. His paces rang out on the hard, purple flooring, but he knew only he could hear them. The activated cloaking device at his waist would damp down any noice he might make. As he drew closer to his target, he slipped a lockdown shell into the C-10 and chased it down with 9 other normal shells. His weapon was the latest in technology, and he was confident that it would be able to see him threw any trouble. Any trouble...
"Heh," he muttered to himself, "Almost as if I don't know what trouble there will be." But he knew, he knew exactly what was ahead.
He rounded the final corner before his destination. He was on a balcony, overlooking the Protoss high command. Flanked by dragoons, a high templar hovered just before the main control breaks. It was his psionic powers that directed the Carrier, as it's interceptors tore into the crippled Avenger, a kilometer away.
"You think your hot shit, don't you bub. Sitting there all pretty, all happy, just blowing my shit away. Without a care in the world eh? I'll give you a care!" murmered Regehr, as he slipped another lockdown shell into the cannister.
Twin sounds of a vague, electrical hissing noise, sounded to the right and left of the templar. It glanced around in bewilderment, then began to gather its energies for a psionic storm.
About 100 metres away, Regehr grinned at the locked down dragoons, then set his remaining eight shells to work. He saw the Templar preparing to storm, so he quickly lobbed a gas grenade to the right. As it exploded in fumes, blue lightning crackled impotently about it.
"heh, sucker,"
Then his gun went to work.
The High Templar tried to run away, but an explosive shell impacted it's legs. It was no longer able to hover, after expending it's energies with a storm. Another shell impacted its khaydarin amulet, then another it's breast plate. As it's blue blood began to seep out it collapsed to the ground. 4 more shells struck it before Regehr, satisfied, vacated the premises.
"You really ought to have some bourban and a cigar, after an operation like that," said Commodore Kohl.
"No thanks sir, lemonade, and maybe some nice soft cookies. Oh I'd kill for a nice warm soft cookie right now"
"Haha, ok I'll see what I can do, now that we're clear of the worst of it. Looks like that Carrier won't be bothering terran space for a while. They're damn lucky they knocked out the actuator before we knew they were there."
"I'd say we're damn lucky we knocked out their templar before he knew I was there..."
"Ahh, good point Regehr. Now if only our luck will hold...?"
Regehr caught the hint and scowled, before returning to his lemonade bliss.
Lueitenant Hautamaki was having a hard day. The blasted shuttle was late, the comm station was a disaster area, and he was short an emergency repair crew. He really felt for the poor guys too. Emergency repair crews were usually chosen for their stupidity and expendabilty. The retards, malcontents, and basically anyone who couldn't even qualify to be a marine, qualified to be an emergency repair crewman. Like everything confederate, the name was propaganda bullshit. They should be called suicide repair crewmen. It was their job to don faulty, unreliable zero-g space suits, float to the outside of the battlecruiser, and attempt to repair vital parts, in the middle of a battle. Robots could be used, but this was a handy way of getting rid of society's unwanteds. The survival rate was less than 2 missions.
Lueitenant Hautamaki, the head communication's officer, flipped open channel 3:
"Where the hell are you for god's sakes? We gotta get this crate ready for combat by next week!"
"Look on your radar jackass!" came the terse reply. This concerned Nic greatly. That tone was not very calm or collected at all.
"What the fuck radar do you think we got up here? This bad boy is falling apart!"
"Oh my god, buddy, there's a swarm headed right at you. Haven't you been filling the escape modules? Your all gonna die!"
"What the fuck! Oh shit... this ain't no prank is it?"
"No, get the fuck outta there, the scourge are about 10 minutes away!"
"Aww great... well thanks for the heads up asshole!"
Hautamaki flipped on channel 9, which broadcast to the whole ship.
"This is not a drill. Zerg swarms incoming, all crew evac to the nearest life raft. I repeat this is not a drill."
Crew Cheif Harmon's head snapped up.
"Shit, now I'll never that mofo repaired. Come on boys, we're checking outta this dump!" He signalled to the crew to follow him, as only the commanders actually knew where the escape pods were, in case of emergencies. The closest life boat was one deck down, but fairly close. As they arrived at the scene, all the mechanics in the area gathered around.
"Ok, we're doing this properly. Petty Officers first!"
"What about you sir?"
"I gotta organise this zoo, you go ahead Travis. I'll see you on Dylan old friend."
The two clasped hands, then Travis was swept into the stampede of petty officers running for their lives. Harmon bawled out directions, and managed for the most part to keep the crew organised.
Corporal Bussman was one of the 500 marines on board the Avenger.
"Ok boys, knowing confederate policy, there is not going to be enough room for us. So we're going to have to make some room!" He hefted his rifle and began loading up a clip.
"Stow that weapon soldier! There will be room for everybody. Mutiny is inconcievable!" The sergeant bawled out. In this particular barracks were 20 marines under the sergeant. The barracks were lined up along this hallway. All 500 marines were cramped into a tiny area along the loading deck.
"Bullshit, we're expendable and you know it. I'm not going to wait for my death, I got more kills left in me."
"Soldier I am ordering you to put down that weapon. When it's our turn to evac, an officer will retrieve us."
"You can wait for him then!" Something had snapped in the conditioning. He wasn't an ordinary marine, he was far too intelligent to be a grunt. However he was part of a government experiment to see if you really could make better officers by bringing them up in the marines first. They hoped his conditioning had been sufficient to quell his intelligence until they deemed him fit to command. They were wrong.
Shane "Vega" Bussman cracked his rifle over the sergeant's head and signalled to the marines, "Come on boys, there's a life boat waiting for us!"
They looked uncertain, hesitant, but Shane's charisma finally galvanised them into action and they sprang up and followed him out.
"Fuck I don't know where the evac is" He murmered to himself. Instinctually he grasped the necessity of making it seem like he did, for the good of his men. He thought of them as his men now, oddly, and he felt responsibe for them. He also felt it was wisest not to let the other marines know about his mutiny. Him and his crew were in it for good now.
"Oh my god!" Commodore Kris Kohl murmered. His beloved ship was lost. He couldn't believe the injustice of it, and a white hot hatred awakened within him.
"Come on sir, I'll escort you to the escape pod."
Quietly, but but with steel, "No."
"Sir? We've got to go sir."
"No, no, Im staying here. There must be something I can still do. Some strategy I'm not seeing"
"Sir, there's nothing. This ship is not in fighting trim, we've got to abandon her."
Kris walked over to the view port, where the zerg were just becoming visible.
"Here they come" he said it with a ghostlike smile
"Guardians too, looks like they want to take the planet as well."
"Sir, we've got to evacuate the ship."
"No you go on ahead without me. I will figure something out. There must be a way."
"Sir, I won't leave you. You must come!"
"Leave me Colonel, or die with me."
"Very well then. I'm not going to get myself killed. See ya Sir. It's been great under you." Hoping that show of callousness would bring his commander to his senses, he left for the nearest escape pod.
"Ok men, I guess the ship pretty much knows whats up. Let's get outta here ourselves." Hautamaki flipped off channel 9 and ran for the nearest escape pod. As he left though, he could hear something behind him. He turned around and went back, only to see Channel 6 buzzing. He flipped open the switch.
"Sir, Hautamaki here." Channel 6 was the private channel from the bridge.
"Tell our boys not to get into the life rafts. The scourge are taking them out! Our boys are sitting ducks. Tell them to launch the life rafts but not to get in them."
"Sir yes sir!" Hurriedly Hautamaki flipped open channel 9.
"All crew this is an emergency announcement! Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT get into any life rafts. The zerg are destroying them, their nothing but coffins. Launch the life rafts, but do not get into ANY! I repeat:..."
Harmon turned white with rage, guilt, and helplessness. His best friend, probably a victim of a scourge he never saw, while he was still out here, perfectly fine. The remaining crewers, the lowest ranked, looked up at him expectantly.
"Well than what the fuck are we supposed to do?" He screamed at the speaker.
"Umm, sir, I believe he said to launch--"
"Shut the fuck up bottom feeder. I heard it!" Inwardly he thanked the pimply teen, he had momentarily forgotten. He ran to the remaining pods, launching them, taking grim satisfaction that the scourge would kill themselves pointlessly on them. Thinking quickly he decided the safest place would be the innermost bowels of the ship, in the supply hold.
"Come on boys, this is no place to be. We'll be the first to go once the scourge get past our pods. We're going to the middle." With that, he led the way.
"Sir, do you know where your going?"
"Of course I do, be quiet private."
"But sir, that guy said that the escape pods were getting all killed and stuff!"
"Its just a trick. They're trying to keep us off. You know how these confederates work!"
Kohl sipped the half empty glass of lemonade dejectedly. His most loyal crewmate had left him. This was surely the end. He had warned the crew, but now what? He had never felt so out of control of the situation. What to do?
He finished the lemonade. That's when it hit him. This self pity was not helping anyone or anything. Regehr was right, he had to get out of here. No wait, Regehr was wrong... but there was a rightness about it. He had to act, yes, that's it. He had to act. First, he had to retake command of the ship. He signalled the Communications officer again. Please god still be there. Yes!
"Sir, Hautamaki here." What the fuck kind of name was Hautamaki anyways? Oh well, no consequence now.
"Tell the crew to meet in the supply area. Light up the way. I want all crewers to be able to find their way there. We're going to make it through this!"
Actually he had no doubt at all that they would all die, but he at least thought they had the power to choose their own end. He headed down there.
As the message rang through the corridors and the lights signalled the way, Harmon smiled to himself. He was right after all.
Bussman held up a fist, and as one the platoon came to a halt behind him. So far he managed to hold on to their loyalty, he hoped he could make it last. After the latest message finished playing, yellow lights turned on, signalling the way.
"Let me think here. I guess they really are losing pods. Either that or it's a trap. Lock and load boys, we're doing this the cautious way."
Hautamaki turned off the transmitter and left the area. All the other communications boys had already left for the life boats. He could only hope at least some of his friends got the message in time. Following the lights he set up, he began the long trip to the supply hold.
* * * * *
The Commodore surveyed the survivors. 3 gunners and the pilot had followed him here, and he confided in them his true thoughts, mostly because he felt he needed to. As a result, they became all the more loyal to their commander. They were just impressed that he stayed behind to help out the crew.
In addition, there was some of the mechanical crew. About 30 of them, under Crew Cheif Threadkell had made it. There was also a few comm guys under Hautamaki, and the Supply officer.
"Freeze! Hold it right there! Yeah all of you. Nobody move!"
Shane "Vega" Bussman, with his 20 marines, called out the commands as he and his men filed into the room, C-4 carbines levelled.
"You, what the hell is going on here!" he motioned to Kohl.
"What do you think your doing Corporal? This is my ship. Put down those weapons."
Some of the men lowered their guns, but none would relinquish them.
"Hey dipshit, we're all in this together. Get a grip!"
Threadkell yelled out.
"Shut up! I want answers. Where are the other marines?"
"They got onto life boats and perished" said Hautamaki.
The other marines looked at Bussman suspiciously.
"Oh they did did they? Am I to take it these are the only survivors then?"
"Yes, all survivors were to come here, and you were the last to arrive." answered Kohl.
"Very well then, what's going on?" As he said that, he too lowered his gun, as did the rest of his men.
"All of the people who got onto escape pods are now dead. The zerg seem to be after the planet mostly. A Confederate fleet will arrive to repel the attack shortly. At that time we will be rescued. All we have to do is survive until then. Chan, what supplies have we got?"
The supply officer glanced down at his list before starting.
"Air for two hours. About 10 gallons of water. No food. No ammo. No repair supplies. Basically nothing."
The hold was dead silent. A few feet shuffled. The men glanced nervously at each other.
Kohl finally broke the silence.
"Ok let's discuss options. As long as the life support generators are on, Air won't be a problem. Food, well, we can go for a few days without. Water, water will be a problem. We'll have to ration it off. You marines will have to defend us if we're boarded. You mechanics will have to do what you can if the ship comes under fire. Hautamaki, get in touch with Tarsonis if you can. The rest of us will look for more supplies."
*Crang* *Crang* *CRANG*
"We're taking fire sir!"
"Yes I can hear that. Where is it?"
"Sounds like the forward laser battery" replied Threadkell.
"Ok let it go. You mechanics, start sealing this place off. Noone's going anywhere, so let's reinforce it." Ordered Kohl.
"With what tools? How the hell are we supposed to do anything?" Harmon was not at all happy with this turn of events. Of course the zerg would finish off the wounded Battlecruiser.
"Let's go get your tools. Come on, we're all in this together, remember?" Bussman raised his weapon and signalled his men, glad to be able to do something to help.
"Ok, you marines escort the mechanics back to their deck, but come back straight away."
"Right!"
"Goddamnit, now what can I do? I can't get to the comm deck, it's too exposed to fire." Hautamaki paced the confined area dejectedly.
"Hmm, theres a communicator in here ain't there. Can't your rig it up somehow?" asked Chan.
"Heh, its only for this ship, but I may as well try."
With a grim determination, Hautamaki began pulling apart the short range comm and attempting to coax a little more range out of it.
Bussman followed Harmon nervously, gun at the ready. He didn't think he'd see any zerg, but he was still seized with trepidation. They managed to make it to the mech deck all right, and the Harmon directed his men to grab vital supplies. Welders, spanners, propane tanks and the like were picked up and stowed. Meanwhile the Marines fanned out to protect them.
"God I wish a we had a medic," wispered one to another.
In about 15 minutes Harmon signalled to Bussman that he was ready.
"Ok back to base men. Keep your heads up!"
They had just left the room when they heard it. A low, guttural sound. Only Bussman, who had been in combat before, recognised the noise.
"Hydras! Move move move!"
Suddenly the grotesque creatures scittered into view, spines flying. Like hornets they buzzed towards the men, then tore through them at high velocity. C-4 rifles opened up into the terrifying beasts at the end of the corridor. With sinister snarls they advanced, preparing to use their long scythe-like forelimbs to rip apart the terrans. Several of the men lay on the ground screaming in agony with hundreds of spines protruding from their bodies, raising sickly purple welts all over them.
Harmon grabbed up a weapon from a fallen marine, directing his men to do the same. As the rifles began to fire in more and more numbers, the hydras were driven back.
"Come on guys, we gotta get outta here. Leave the dead and wounded, there's nothing we can do for them." Shane snapped another clip into place and led the shell shocked men out of the area.
"Please don't leave me! I'm only 17, I don't want to die!" The hideously wounded kid was the same who had reminded Harmon at the escape pods.
"Sorry kid. Sorry." Harmon really was sorry, as he pointed the muzzle of the gun at the kids face, and squeezed the trigger.
"How the fuck are we going to live through this?"
Look for part 2, coming soon to a br.com near you.
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