Starcraft: The Sodon Trilogy
Part 1 - The Final Frontier By Sodon
Captain Nabal stared silently out the viewport. He sighed. Exploration was such a boring assignment. After the Terran Confederacy came to power, most of the Mining Guilds were assimilated into its holdings. Some of the Guilds had rebelled, and were quickly ‘disposed’ of. Nabal’s superiors were among the rebels. He, however, did not want a war that he knew he could not win. When the Confederate marshals came knocking at his door, he resigned his fleet to them, agreeing to join their ranks.
His superiors definitely would be mad, but they hadn’t returned his transmissions. He could only assume they had been ‘taken care of’. In the meantime, the Confederate’s mistrust of the Mining Guilds landed his fleet an exploration assignment.
“The Harvester has finished gathering the samples. It’s returning to the ship now,” Lieutenant Sodon reported.
Nabal turned from the viewport. “Very well. Prepare the fleet for departure.” A chorus of acknowledgments sounded from the bridge, and Nabal turned back to the viewport.
“The Science Vessel Harvester is completely docked. The fleet is ready to move on your order,” Lieutenant Sodon replied.
Captain Nabal continued to stare out the viewport. He thought he saw something out there…he shook the thought away and turned to face the bridge. “Captain Nabal to the fleet. Set coordinates for the nearest hospitable planet. Engage.”
The deck shuttered as the ship turned to port, then jerked as its hyperdrive engines flung it past lightspeed.
Lieutenant Sodon watched the stars fly by for a minute, then turned to view his sensors console. The nearest hospitable planet was several days away. He sighed. If they didn’t find what they were looking for on this next planet, he swore he’d take his Wraith and head to some uncharted system. No more exploration for me, he mused. Suddenly, he lost his balance, leaning forward with inertia as the ship shook as though it was pulled out of hyperspace. He looked at the viewport. Indeed they were at a dead stop. He blinked, then glanced at his console.
“What happened?” Captain Nabal demanded, pulling himself from the floor.
“I don’t know, sir! The hyperdrive is overheated, but it was fully functional as before we left,” Tabal, the chief of engineering reported. “The only way this could happen was if something was in our way, and the hyperdrive shut down to prevent a collision. But we checked our route, it was clear!”
Sodon rubbed his eyes, concentrating on his console. Eyes widening, he looked up at the viewport. “Uh…sir! I think I know why we stopped!”
Captain Nabal followed Sodon’s gaze to the viewport. He gasped. Hovering in the viewport was a massive spaceship, almost twice as long as his Battlecruiser. It was cylinder-like in shape, with two long shafts coming out from the bottom. On the shafts Nabal could see bunches of lights and little tiny ships attached to those lights. A single shaft came out of the top of the ship, which apparently was the bridge. Flying in escort formation around the capital ships was smaller ships. They resembled jets, but the body was more smoothed out and the ship itself was much faster than any jet Nabal had read about. Flying off in the distance was yet another ship. It had a flat box in the middle, with two shafts curving backwards up and down over the box.
Nabal turned to Sodon. “Lieutenant, get me some sensor readings!” The alien ships were inactive, and he figured this would be the best time to find out about them. Sodon’s report sounded sooner then he would have thought.
“They are alien ships, with an unknown classification. The lead ship is registered as the Gantrithor. There are five ships matching the Gantrithor’s classification, three of the medium sized ship, and several squadrons of the small fighter, “ Sodon read off his console. “Also, I’m not reading any of the rest of the fleet.”
“They must have hypered around the alien fleet. Commander Badeel, see if you can get me a comlink to the lead ship. And while you’re at it, get me a complete readout on those ships. Use the lieutenant’s sensor data.”
“Yes sir,” Badeel affirmed. “They’re responding to our hails.”
Nabal smiled, “Onscreen.”
The picture of the fleet faded away, and an alien face replaced it. The alien appeared humanoid, with reptilian scales covering all visible skin. Its eyes glowed slightly, and as far as Nabal could tell, it had no mouth. Suddenly, Nabal’s mind filled with words, startling him out of his observation.
Greetings. I am Tassadar, of the Protoss Expeditionary Force. This may seem unusual to you, but my kind speaks through telepathy. You however, can simply speak to me through words. Nabal wasn’t sure what was happening, but he figured the alien was talking to him.
“Captain?” Badeel inquired. “The channel is open, I’m sure he can hear you.”
Apparently the alien was ‘speaking’ to the whole crew. Nabal straightened himself, then spoke. “Greetings, Tassadar. I am Nabal, Captain of this Terran Battlecruiser, the Lost One. Are your intentions in Confederate space peaceful?” Nabal hoped he was saying the right things. He never really paid attention in those first contact classes.
I would be incorrect in saying so, Captain. However, we mean no harm to the Confederacy or you Terrans. Perhaps I could come aboard your ship, and we could discuss this further? How odd. The alien’s head moved as if was talking, but no sound came out, just thoughts. It was disorienting, to say the least.
“That would be a good idea. And do you mind if my science officer downloads your ship’s statistics, for future reference?”
Not at all. I will depart my ship in a Shuttle shortly. I’ll see you then.
Lieutenant Sodon watched Captain Nabal exit the bridge, then turned to examine Badeel’s data on the Protoss fleet. He brought up the data on the Gantrithor. According to the data, the Gantrithor and the rest of the ships like it were registered as Carriers. Further investigation showed why they were called this. The two long shafts coming out the bottom held Interceptors, small ships with two guns, one on each side. Carriers generally carried eight to ten of these ships, while the Gantrithor held twenty. It also boasted improved shields and better armor then the rest. Personal customization, eh? Sodon thought to himself.
The medium sized ship was the Arbiter. Its main gun was weak, but Sodon noticed some extra openings by the gun. He looked up these holes in the sensors. Apparently they were funnels for psionic energy fueled by the pilot. He could only imagine what these psionic abilities produced.
The fighter was deemed the Scout. Funny, the Scout seemed more of a heavy fighter than a Scout ship. It had an anti-ground weapon resembling the machine guns used by primitive Terran jets. However, it housed a missile factory inside. Once produced, these deadly missiles were then fired by the pilot at air targets. Very powerful. The Scout was more advanced than the Terran Wraith. The normal ones, anyway. My customized Wraith equals the Scout in firepower and defense. Sodon reassured himself.
The next ship was the Shuttle. It was as smooth as the rest, but the two shafts coming out moved sideways and forward from the cockpit. Sodon watched Tassadar’s Shuttle slowly move towards the docking bay, and then he turned to take a look at the final ship.
These were also Observers. It sported the usual curving shafts, and in the center of the cockpit was a big sensor package. Sodon looked out in space. Funny. He knew they had to have some Observers out there somewhere. Sodon went back to his console. He didn’t see any Observers anywhere out there. He shut down the console. He had a sudden inkling to prep his ship for flight…
***
Captain Nabal looked up at his door as the alien walked in. Tassadar was an imposing figure. He stood at about two meters tall, and his composure was, although weak-looking, powerful compared to the strongest humans. He noticed a small metallic device where Tassadar’s mouth would be. He stood up and extended his hand to Tassadar. The alien cocked its head at his outstretched hand, then surprisingly, spoke.
“I’m afraid that if there is some significance of extending your limb to me, I do not realize it.” Apparently, the metallic device was a universal translator if sorts. Nabal smiled.
“It is a common custom of our people. The correct action would be for you to extend your own ‘limb’ and shake my hand.” Tassadar nodded, and did so. Nabal offered him a chair, and they sat.
“Tired of thinking to me eh?”
“Not entirely, no. I merely figured I would make a better impression on you if I spoke to you with words, clumsy as they may be.” Tassadar seemed to smile back.
“I see. Well, Tassadar, what brings you to the Koprolu Sector?” Nabal asked.
Tassadar grew solemn and looked upwards towards the ceiling. “When I said I meant no direct harm to you or your people, I was not lying. However, I’m afraid it is unavoidable.”
Nabal frowned. “What do you mean?”
Tassadar looked down at Nabal. “Captain, have you ever heard of the Zerg?”
***
Lieutenant Sodon slipped into his Wraith’s cockpit. During the Guild Wars, Sodon was known throughout the Sector for his great bravery and piloting skills during battle. Although he fought against the Confederates during the war, they admired his tenacity and his skills. As a result, when he defected, he was awarded his own Wraith, and he was allowed to ‘customize’ it. He sold his Goliath and his old Wraith, and used the credits to outfit his Wraith with a newer and stronger armor plating, and added blaster enhancement packages to the weapon systems. The result: a brand new totally upgraded Wraith. He christened it the Glory’s Fire.
Sodon flicked the systems check online. Everything was green. He set it for standby mode, and hopped onto the dock’s floor. He headed towards the turbolift to return to the bridge.
***
Nabal’s heart skipped a beat. “Y-yes! I have. They’ve infested several of our colonies, and they continue to spread, destroying towns as they go. Our armies can’t push them back, and the Confederates refuse to intervene. Some of my crew has expressed concern that the Confederates are responsible for the destruction. Frankly, I don’t know what to think. Why do you ask?” Nabal almost didn’t want to know.
Tassadar’s face strained with compassion and confusion. “My orders from the Protoss Conclave is to eradicate the infested worlds. Foreign casualties are to be ignored. In other words, Captain, I have to destroy your colonies, starting with Chau Sara.”
Nabal jumped to his feet. “What? You’ve got to be kidding me!” He shouted at Tassadar. “There will be thousands of Terran casualties! Innocent lives will be lost! I can’t, no, I won’t let you do this.”
Tassadar face grew more disturbed. “Please, Captain, settle down. This is the only way. If the Zerg get a foothold in the Koprolu Sector, they will be in position to strike at our homeworld. If we do not destroy them now, they will kill every Terran in sight. I assure you, if there was some other way…“
Nabal interrupted him. “At least let me give a warning, so that the citizens may evacuate!”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. You know that as well as I do. If every Terran starts leaving the planet, the Zerg will become suspicious, and may just follow you to the next planet and so on and so on. I realize that you may want to act rashly and warn your people anyway, but be warned. I will do anything to stop you. I’ll use force if necessary.”
Nabal glared at Tassadar. “Then you best get back to your ship, because that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Be reasonable, Captain! I do not want more innocent blood on my hands!” Tassadar pleaded with Nabal.
Nabal scowled at the Protoss warrior. “Get off my ship,” he growled.
“Captain on the bridge!” Sodon announced as Captain Nabal walked into the bridge.
“As you were. Commander Badeel set course for Chau Sara. Move us into position,” Nabal ordered solemnly.
“Yes, sir!” Badeel confirmed. “Sir, the Gantrithor is hailing us.”
“Put them through.”
Tassadar’s face appeared on the viewscreen. This is your final warning, Captain. Cease your actions now, or you will be fired upon.
“Not in your life. Commander, end transmission. Charge all forward batteries. Full power to weapon systems. Launch all Wraith squadrons. Red alert! Captain to all guns, fire at will, blow us a path to freedom!”
Suddenly, Sodon knew why he had charged up his Wraith’s systems. He studied his sensor’s console. He gasped. He did a quick count. There were fifty five ships out there! He noticed the Arbiters off to one side, and in their places where dozens of ships. Cloaking devices! His own Wraith employed this mysterious technology. He linked his console to Commander Badeel, and headed out the bridge.
Nabal watched Sodon exit the bridge. Hopefully his new Wraith was up to the task ahead of them.
***
Tassadar stared solemnly out the viewport. Why such needless lives had to be sacrificed was beyond him. He was not sure how many innocents he’d have to kill before the Conclave would grant him another option to stop the Zerg.
And so the first battle of the Great War ensued. Alpha One of the first Wraith Squadron dove under the first Carrier then unloaded some missiles into the nearest Scout’s cockpit. Its shields glowed, and when the smoke cleared, the Scout was unharmed. Meanwhile, two Scouts formed up on Alpha One’s flank, and unloaded missiles into his engine. An alarm went off and seconds later, Alpha One’s Wraith exploded. No escape pod flew out of the wreckage.
Sodon shook his head as two more Wraiths bit the dust. This was another war they could not win. He set his navicomputer for Korhal. The Confederates were fools. Sodon figured his best bet would be to join the Sons of Korhal, or some other rebel alliance. He brought his ship about, and as he headed towards his hyperjump point, his ship shuddered as a Scout drooped in behind him. It fired a pair of missiles at him. He pulled back hard on the stick, throwing himself into a loop. He gritted his teeth as he forced the Wraith into an atmospherically fatal maneuver then eased off the stick, falling into line behind the Scout. He fired several bursts of missiles at it, biting a hole within its rear shields. He peppered the craft’s engines with lasers, burning it away. The Scout flew out of control, and Sodon shot two more missiles at it, blowing it apart.
Lieutenant Sodon checked his radar display. Alpha and Delta Squadron had managed to take out two other Scouts and one of the Arbiters. However, out of 24 fighters, only five remained. They’re not used to fighting the Protoss, Sodon said to himself.
Nabal was an intelligent man. Why then was he fighting this hopeless battle? Looking out the cockpit window he realized why. Hanging dead in space, slowly burning away, was a Carrier. The Lost One had focused all its firepower on this single Carrier, ensuring its destruction. What’s more, Nabal would drive away any repair crews or fighter ship that attempted to aid their brethren. Energy coursed over the Lost One’s hull as it slowly charged up the mighty Yamato Gun.
Nabal knew this battle was impossible to win. He was simply proving a point to Tassadar. Regardless of whether or not the Protoss were targeting their colonies specifically, the Terran race would not take kindly to having their colonies destroyed. They would fight back, and unless Tassadar found another way to deal with the Zerg threat, he would have more ‘innocent’ blood on his hands than he could deal with.
Suddenly, as Sodon watched in helpless horror, the Gantrithor fired a powerful beam at the Lost One, shearing its whole right side totally and cleanly off. The beam moved across the ship's bow, destroying it completely as it went.
Angry about this sudden turn of events, Sodon flared the Glory’s Fire to life, streaking towards the broken Carrier. Feeding energy to his advanced Gemini missiles, he thumbed the trigger. “This is for you, Captain!” Sodon shouted as he pulled the trigger, releasing a pair of Gemini missiles. Sodon watched as they streaked towards the Carrier then turned his ship around, heading for Korhal. Behind him, the Carrier exploded with great brilliance.
Tassadar watched gloomily as the Gantrithor’s cannon finished destroying the Lost One. He checked his scans once more. Same as last time, still no escape pods. No life signs. He entered the battle into his logs, and then stared out the viewport as repair crews flew to the broken Carrier. Suddenly, he noticed the glimmer of light off metal in the distance. It was a surviving Wraith. It stopped, shot something out, then turned around. Suddenly, he realized what had happened. He ordered the repair crews to evacuate, but he was too late.
The missiles hit at the worst possible moment. The repair crews had just peeled back the hull of the damaged Carrier to begin repairs when the missiles struck. The first ripped through the repair crews, blowing out system after system, finally destroying the shield generator. With the path to the core wide open, the second missile streaked in, puncturing the core’s outer shell. The resulting explosions ripped the Carrier apart. Finally, in one grand explosion, the core buckled in on itself, bursting outward with blue flame.
Shocked at this sudden loss, Tassadar ordered the fleet to prepare for departure. While the fleet readied its systems, he had some Observers search the wreckage for life signs. There were none. Grieved with the destruction around him, Tassadar ordered the fleet to move. They entered hyperspace. In only a few days, they would arrive at Chau Sara.
532 Terran soldiers had died. 467 Protoss warriors had given their lives. And for what? To exterminate a few small Zerg hives? To allow that extermination to continue? How many more innocent lives would be lost? How many more Protoss warriors would needlessly sacrifice their lives? How much more innocent blood would Tassadar have on his hands before his mad fleet was stopped, be it the Zerg, the Terrans, or he himself that did the deed? Whatever these next few months had in store for him, Tassadar was sure they’d be the gravest and bloodiest few months he would ever see…
Next Episode!
Blood of the Oppressed
All original content is a production of Omega Intertainment. Do not copy without permission.
