It has been three years since Kerrigan, the self styled “Queen of Blades” and now leader of the Zerg hordes defeated the forces arraigned against her during the period known as the Brood War. The three main powers that fought during that conflict were broken and swept aside like leaves before an approaching storm in the ensuing battles. With their forces in disarray and their resources depleted, the forces of the UED, the Terran Dominion and the remnants of the Protoss withdrew to heal and rearm for future combat. After the crushing defeats delivered to their forces, the warriors James Raynor and the Dark Templar Zeratul parted ways and were never heard from again. With her hordes in utter chaos, Kerrigan lacked the ability to continue the fight and instead concentrated on asserting her control over the widespread broods; giving her enemies a much needed opportunity to plan and prepare. Despite her victories, Kerrigan felt a hollow sense within her that an even greater power was watching the events that occurred in the Koprulu Sector; watching and waiting for the right time to strike…
Chapter 1
The End Run
The Past: 36 hours after the defeat above the planet Char.
Gliding silently through the black seas of space travels the remnants of the UED forces. The force of starships and vessels is an awe-inspiring sight but upon closer inspection, the hulls of the ships are pocketed with impacts and ruptured in multiple locations. Black scoring and blasts marks are indications that this fleet has seen better days. These once powerful ships are now reduced to nothing more than a collection of flying junkyard rejects struggling to return home with the news of their defeat in the Koprulu Sector. Having lost Admiral DuGalle to a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head, the fleet limps homeward with but captains and commanders to lead the survivors.
Amidst the flotilla of ships, a man stands by the viewscreens and contemplates the future. The bridge of the Battlecruiser Alexsander, flagship of the fleet, is a quiet place despite the apparent flurry of activity that abounds from those on-duty. Repair crews are hard at work repairing the damage from the recent attacks as the only sounds emanating outward are from the comm systems that are filled with the calls from the different stations concerning damage and system reports. At the main viewscreen, Captain Jeffrey Torral, now commander of the tattered remains of the fleet stands looking out into the vast ocean of stars. Despite looking alert, his eyes betray his emotions. He is as exhausted mentally and physically, as is everyone else but he knows that it is now his responsibility to get everyone home and report his findings to Earth of the extreme and unimaginable threat that the Zerg possess.
Lieutenant Hamilton, now executive officer of the Alexander steps quietly next to his commander. “Captain? Are you all right sir? Shouldn’t you try and get some sleep?”
While continuing to still stare out into space, Torral replies, “I’m fine Lieutenant Hamilton, just a little bit tired that’s all. Nothing to worry about, I don’t plan on falling dead on you just yet if that’s what you are wondering.”
“I’d never think of anything of the sort sir.” Despite his enthusiastic reply, he eyes his commander carefully. The captain has been awake for almost three days straight now. He knows that lack of sleep combined with combat stress starts to affect clear thinking and judgement and that has him worried that his captain might make a rash decision at a critical moment.
Apparently, despite having a lack of sleep the captain senses being the subject of scrutiny and turns slightly to address Hamilton. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to be my mother Lieutenant. I’d like to think that I’m old enough to know when it’s time for me to sleep. Understand?”
“Sorry sir,” sheepishly, Hamilton replies. “It’s just you’ve been on combat ops now for almost three days straight and frankly sir that’s bound to affect anyone.”
With a slow shaking of his head he replies, “I can’t sleep now Lieutenant. Not until we’ve clear this sector and I feel we are safely out of the reach of the Zerg. Until that happens, none of us can truly get any rest.” Turning fully to address his XO, Torral speaks. “Now, I trust you have some information for me?”
Sensing that the time for discussion is over, Hamilton returns to the business at hand. “Damage control parties report that most of the hull breeches have been repaired and that the major systems are almost online. Engineering reports system-wide capacity at roughly seventy percent.” As he prepares to deliver the next half of the report, his expression turns gloom in regards to the recent disturbing news. “We also have a report from the rear sentry ships. They are picking up another large mass approaching from the aft quarter of the fleet. Best bet from them is that its another Zerg brood coming to attack us again.”
“Damn,” swears the captain under his breath as he lowers his head. “Bad enough that we’ve been running like a whipped dog since that battle above Char, but must we have the damn Zerg picking us apart all the way home.” Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, the captain relaxes for a brief moment and when he opens his eyes he’s all business again. Exhaling slowly, he knows that the time for action is at hand.
Turning professional again he asks, “How much time do we have to prepare before we can expect another attack?”
Looking at his datapad, Hamilton sums up the data from the scouts and gives his best bet. “If the brood keeps its present rate of closure we can expect another attack in about twenty to twenty-five minutes tops. Thirty minutes might be pushing it. Not much time since that last attack sir,” he adds sourly.
“Hmmm… doesn’t give us much time to prepare now does it? Add up the facts that they are attacking more often and from specific directions and what does that mean?”
Hamilton considers deeply the implications of the findings. “They are trying to pressure us sir. Keep us off-balance and wear us down. They must know that we can’t keep up with all the damage we’ve been taking so they keep pressuring us harder.”
“The thing is Hamilton that they seem to be driving us to someplace.” Taking the datapad the captain plots the information into the system and the results do not make him happy.
“See this? The last attack was from the starboard quarter, the prior ones were from the port quarter and now this one from the aft again. It looks like they are driving us to a specific region of space. That can only mean one of two things: either they are pushing us out of their territory or else they are herding us right into an ambush ahead of us Lieutenant.” Torral gestures out the viewscreen towards a region of gaseous space ahead of them.
“So what do we do now sir? We have an attack about to hit the rear ships in probably less that thirty minutes and we now know we’re probably heading right into an ambush.”
“Let’s deal with the immediate threat first shall we? Place the ship on red alert and send out the order for the fleet to prepare for combat. Have the ships with the most damage herded into the center to protect them and get me Captains Chin and Bordenski on the comm.”
“Yes sir. Let’s hope that damage control got those laser batteries working again otherwise this is going to be one short fight,” replies Hamilton as he makes a sharp turn and hurries off to perform his duties.
“A short fight,” thinks the captain, as he watches the lieutenant run off. One way or another this fleet is going to have to pound it’s way out of here and that means going through the Zerg. One way or another they will find a way to get out of this mess.
Once the alert is sent out to the fleet, preparations for combat commence at a frantic pace. The lumbering battlecruisers and vessels turn to face the closing threat as they move into more defensive positions in order to provide covering fire for each other. Those ships with critical damage slowly slide into what little protection the center of the fleet can provide. Laser batteries that are still operational are charged and manned by their gun crews for the coming fleet action. Onboard the wraith carriers, entire squadrons await the moment they are hurled into the coming firestorm. For some, the feelings of dread fall upon them as they consider their chances of escaping with their lives from this hellish sector of space. Others eagerly await the chance for the opportunity to be let loose on the Zerg hordes to seek some form of retribution for their losses suffered. One of those pilots is Lieutenant Commander Randall “Razor” O’Donnel of the 67th Tactical Space Combat Squadron, “The Wild Bunch.”
The chatter of crew chiefs and arming crews can be heard over the comm as the pilots run their preflight checks. With their weapon stores being drained without any hope of immediate replacements, most of the fighters are sorting with only half their standard loads. This bit of information does not come with welcomed arms.
“Hey Ran! When’s the show going to start huh?” asks Ensign David “Squeezer” Manning, the pilot of Wild 5.
“You in that big of a hurry to go out in a blaze of glory Squeeze?” replies Wild 11.
“Noooooooooo!” replies Wild 5 with a slight edge to his tone. “It’s just all this waiting is just driving me so crazy I need to go and kill me something alien you know?”
“Ha!” taunts Wild 6. “Last time out all I heard from you was on your ass screaming for help,” replies Lt. Tagora “Saki” Nagomo with an edge of sarcasm.
“Well shit! I mean it was only like 20 on my tail. What do you want me to say huh?” asks Squeeze.
Laughter fills the comm as the squad takes a moment of levity to lighten their otherwise grim situation. Despite their bravado, they know deep down that the odds are against them but they will fight on nonetheless. Not merely for glory or honor but for the greatest reward… survival.
“Ok ladies,” cuts in Razor. “Let’s can the chatter and get our game faces on. It’s almost pucker time.” With that final order, everyone gets back to the business at hand. Randall runs his eyes over his system boards and doesn’t like what he sees. “Hey chief? What’s the deal with shorting us on ammo?”
“Sorry Razor,” replies the crew chief as she runs an oil-smudged hand through her dirty hair. “The weapons stores are getting depleted faster than expected so we’re being asked to ration the ammo.”
“Are they freaking crazy!” screams Razor. “That ammo expenditure is the only thing keeping the Zerg from overrunning this fleet!” As he looks up towards the bridge decks with frustration on his face he asks, “Are they even thinking about just what we are supposed to do when our ammo runs out in the middle of a furball?! What are we supposed to use then huh? Throw rocks if we even had some?” Razor utters a stream of curses and even some he just made up.
“Hey don’t yell at me about that,” calmly replies the chief. “I just work here remember. Take it up with upper level management if you want.” She adds with a challenging smile.
“I just might do just that,” counters Razor. Turning serious, he says “You better get your people clear chief, it’s almost game time.”
As she drops down the ladder she gives one last piece of advice. “You watch your ass Razor.”
With a slight smirk, Randall counters as his cockpit closes around him. “I thought that was your job.”
She throws out a crude gesture at him as she and her crews leave the flight deck. Razor and his squad settle in for the wait when they will be soon fighting for their very lives. They don’t have long before it starts.
In the command center of the Alexander, Captain Torral gives finally instructions of his battle plan for group commanders Captain Chin and Bordenski. The time for battle is almost on them and final preparations must be made.
“Any questions about the plan gentlemen,” asks Captain Torral.
No was the answer from both commanders as they take in the situation. Despite the news of a possible ambush ahead of them, both of them know that the closing threat from the rear is the immediate concern.
“Jeffrey what are we going to do if, by some miracle, we finally clear this coming brood?” asks Captain Jonathan Chin. “We can’t keep this pace up forever. The fleet needs some downtime as well as some much needed repairs and supplies.”
Shaking his head, Torral replies. “Jon, we can’t even consider that until we get clear of this region. That means getting the Zerg off our tails long enough to get away and that means making a stand here and now.”
“I hope you are right Jeff. I really do” replies Captain Richard Bordenski. “If we bite off more than we can chew here it’s our asses on the chopping block.”
“Then you better hope that it’s a very large block we are on Rich,” replies Torral sharply. “Because if we don’t beat them back now it doesn’t matter what happens two to three hours later now does it?”
Both commanders slowly nod their heads in agreement. The time for discussion is over. It is time to act. Further talk on the matter is interrupted as Lieutenant Hamilton walks up to delivers his situation report.
“Report from the picket line captain,” says Hamilton. “They are preparing to engage the leading edge wave of the Zerg forces.” Expressions sour with the realization that they have a fight on their hands whether they want one or not. With that bit of news, the dice has been cast and the time for talk is now over.
“Patch me into the fleet wide channel Lieutenant,” asks Torral.
With a flurry of movement across the comm boards, Hamilton completes the task and gives his reply. “Link established sir. You’re ready to transmit.”
Keying the comm, Torral issues his final orders. “Now hear this, our outer picket screen is preparing to engage the Zerg. We need to bloody the Zerg up enough so that we can break contact with them and make a run for home. That means we are going to be in for a serious fight people. I know I’ve been asking a lot from everyone of you for the past few days but I need to ask it of you again. We need to break contact otherwise they will just hound us to death. You’ve all been briefed on your parts of the plan. Good luck and good hunting to us all.”
The crews of the fleet take in the words and know that this will more than likely be their final stand against the Zerg horde. Some say a silent prayer for themselves and their comrades, other merely take comfort in their surroundings because they know what has to be done. They prepare for the fight ahead.
“Let’s do some damage shall we lieutenant?” asks Torral with a tight smile as he stands up and heads for the bridge.
