Starcraft

Rebel Yell.

In the decade since the end of the Guild Wars, the oppressive Terran Confederacy has stood unchallenged in its supremacy over colonised space.

All of that changed four days ago when a large alien fleet emerged from warp space and laid waste to the unsuspecting Confederate colony of Chau Sara.

The Confederates, fearing that the alien fleet's next target will be the colony of Mar Sara, have decided to intervene, sending a Colonial Magistrate to safeguard the colonists and keep their state of panic from escalating further.

For many years, the Terrans have gone unchallenged in the Koprulu sector.
Now, they are faced by two alien threats.

And many from the inside.


" I am Tassadar, of the Protoss expeditionary force. My orders are simple, burn this planet to the ground, for it is cursed by the taint of the Zerg. However, I see your fleet is rag-tag...unable to even defend itself, never mind a planet. Terran commander, today I shall allow you a reprieve. Your only crime was your lack of haste in this manner. However, let it been known, I cannot suffer to see the Zerg spread more. In seven solar days, I will return. Then, I shall scourge this planet, much to my disgust. I advise you to leave while you can. If you do not, you will die by the Zerg...or die by me."

The Gantrithor lumbered around, turning away from the planet. It had only been a few days since he had razed Chau Sara. But he could still hear the voices...
"Alien...Monster...Murderer!"
It burned inside him. This was why he had to spare these Terrans here. He had to at least suggest the Protoss were not cold, heartless beasts. He stared at the floor of the bridge for a second, pausing to think.
"What troubles you, Executor Tassadar?" a voice spoke from a dark corner of the ship. A rather lithe and tall Protoss Zealot stood from the shadows. He was wearing light armour adorned with red liturgy, a sign of a warrior from the Ara tribe.
"Surely, Aldaris was right to give such an immense task to a Templar of your calibre?" he goaded Tassadar. "The Terrans are weak, short lived. Their loss would not be hurtful to the galaxy. Indeed, it is nigh on necessary-"
"Silence Judicator!" Tassadar bellowed. "You have no empathy, you have not seen the destruction of Chau Sa ra! The least we can do is allow these men to escape."
"And let the Zerg be taken with them? Don't be foolish, Tassadar, all it takes is one spore," the Judicator sneered.
"If that is the case, Mar'alasha, I fear it is already too late."



***

"What do you mean, gone!" General Edmund Duke's heavily accented voice boomed through the bridge of Norad II. He slammed an aged fist on the arm of his command chair. His eyes were dull grey, almost matching his blue grey hair. He was about fifty, his age clearly shown in his worn face. He stared at the view screen.
"Sir, we have no idea where the alien fleet retreated to."
"Ah, for Doran's sake. First the bugs and now we got some skinny bastards trying to push us around. I mean, they ain't even got normal faces, for the love of god. Ensign, open a channel, get me the Cerberus commander."
The view screen flickered slightly, a heavily augmented man's face appearing in the centre of the bridge.
"General Duke, how may I help you?" the Cerberus commander smiled wryly, showing a hint of arrogance in his face.
"C'mon, don't get cocky just 'cos I'm crawling to you for help."
"I told you, the incidents involving the Xenomorphs on Chau Sara didn't happen..."
"I'm not talking about the Zerg, you fool. You're all the same, you 'Spec. Ops' units. So up your own backsides."
"I think, General, that would be a very hypocritical thing to say. I suppose you are referring to the Protoss?"
"Yeah, that's what they called themselves." Duke stared at the cyborg. "What you know?"
"Well, we haven't had chance to dissect one yet, but I do know some basics. They are about 3 metric units tall, antediluvian life span, digitigrade legs, have semi-permeable skin covered in scales, four digits on their hands, two of which are thumbs, and toes, broad chests and shoulders, and narrow waists with slim midsections. Their key feature, however, is a cluster of psionic 'appendages' that hang from the back of their head, connecting all Protoss to a psionic 'network.'"
"Ok, I get the psychic bit, but what the hell does the rest mean?"
"3 metres or 8 foot, live for ages, legs like dogs' hind legs, skinny but broad shoulders. Simple enough for even you, General?"
"Don't patronise me son, I've been fighting all kinds of scum for a lot longer than you."
"True, but have they ever been alien scum? I suggest we work together in future. You know how to contact me. Meanwhile, get those colonists away from Mar Sara. The Protoss mean business."
"Stringy bastards, you'd think they'd find another way to blow off steam."
"Well, studies show they currently have no evolved form of reproductive genitalia."
"That's not what I meant..."

***

The Magistrate walked back into his office, wiping the remains of dinner from his lips with a tissue. Just because the ration packs were not sophisticated, did not mean he had to follow suit. He was unused to such crude meals. Of course, since the Protoss were about to burn the planet to ashes, importing real food would have been somewhat pointless. The door slid open, and he was greeted by the Adjutant on his computer screen.
"Adjutant Online. Good evening, Magistrate. I'll fill you in on what's been happening: Confederate traffic has increased substantially since the Protoss destruction of the Chau Sara colony. The Confederates have tightened security on all outlying systems, and it's likely that this colony will be locked down as well. An encrypted Confederate transmission came for you while you were at dinner. Replaying transmission:
'Greetings, Magistrate. I'm General Edmund Duke of the Confederate Security Forces, Alpha squadron. The Confederacy has quarantined the entire planet and we'll proceed with the lock-down in 48 hours. You're to relocate your core colonists to the outlying wastelands. Now I know there won't be any problems with these new arrangements...'
Transmission ended. I have contacted the local Marshal, James Raynor. Raynor has agreed to meet your personnel en route and escort them to the new wasteland site."
The Magistrate brushed his jacket down, and placed a black cap on his head.
"Running from the Zerg, eh?" he spoke to himself. Pressing the button on the door, he walked through, the screen weakly beeping in the background. A news bulletin was posted on the screen:
"Reports today state that, as of yet, the Zerg have NOT reached the Wastelands of Mar Sara. Therefore, it has been decided by the Confederacy, in the interests of the colonists, to move them to this area, before preparing to evacuate. Also, in further developments, the alien race who annihilated the defenceless colony of Chau Sara have also been sighted on the outskirts of Mar Saran space. The invaders, calling themselves the Protoss, claimed they would return in seven days to incinerate the surface of the planet, attempting to destroy the Zerg. How long these species have been at war is unknown. However, it is also impossible to tell how they would communicate. The Protoss appear to be a highly advanced race of psionic creatures. They are tall, with varying skin patterns, ranging from plain fleshy-grey to mottled deep blue. The Zerg, on the other hand, seem to be a collective of creatures. It is currently not known how they all act as one coherent whole in battle. The main species sighted so far have been classed as 'Zerglings,' small dog like creatures with rending talons extending from their backs and spiny, segmented chitin for armour. The other breed sighted has been dubbed the Hydralisk. These beasts are about 2 and a half to 3 metres tall. Their build is serpent like, with a large crested head and strong limbs ending in scythe like blades. Their backs are covered in strong spines. Battlefield reports claim that the scythe blades ARE used in combat, but they also can fire the organic spines as powerful projectiles, opening their shoulder blades to do so. Some accounts even state that massed concentrations can take down Wraith fighters, or even cripple Behemoth class Battlecruisers. There are also rumours of immense creatures, known only as Ultralisks, that even dwarf the Arclite Siege tank.
Only time will tell if the Confederacy can survive the alien threat. Marshall James Raynor, aged 29, spoke earlier today.
"Yeah, me and the Magistrate are to take as many colonists as we can to the Wastelands for evac. We are going to set up a temporary perimeter base there, but it will only be a buffer against the Zerg, since the 'toss are coming to burn the place, no point in making it all permanent."
He also commented on the Protoss.
"Yeah, well, at least they are giving us a chance to run. Zerg don't seem so friendly, do they. I'm not saying I'm into the 'toss much; they didn't give Chau Sara much of a chance. Then again, someone's got to stop the Zerg, and the Confederates are taking their time to kick into gear."
Raynor's controversial views have become a soapbox for public debate. However, he states he just intends to save the civilians, not cause a revolution of any kind.
So far anyway, his actions have not concerned the Confederacy.
Until the evacuation has been completed, civilians are advised to stay indoors and keep any kind of weapon close to hand. The evacuation will take place over the next five days. This will be the last article from the Chau Sara Journal, since, due to unforeseen circumstances, we will be going into an indefinite period of termination of circulation.
However, we hope to see you on the other side as the 'Nomad's Herald.'
From the Editor and all staff, I bid you farewell, but not quite goodbye.
- Nick Strafe, Ed"

As the refugees filed past, Raynor let the article slip from his hands and fall to the churned mud floor.
"Damn confederates. We ain't even got tanks to back us up."
He turned his bald head to look at the sunset. It was one of the last ones he would see on this planet. He placed his hand on his stubble, his moustache twitching as he moved his top lip. A marine came up behind him, Gauss rifle casually slung across his body. The heavy metal of his armour moved smoothly as he approached the Marshall.
"Sir, we are set to go. We got a squad of men ready to cover the civilians," the Marine said, looking to Raynor. "Something wrong, sir?"
"Just those Zerglings we saw... the rest of the bugs, they are coming here too," Raynor spoke in a solemn tone.
"Good thing those slope heads gave us a deadline then, it'll help us actually get the job done this year..."
Raynor smiled slightly, climbing into his Vulture jet bike. He nodded, looking to the Marine.

"C'mon guys! Let's get this convoy rolling!"



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This did use the lines from the SC campaign. I also used Wikipedia for the 'toss descriptions. Sorry if it's slow, etc. just trying to get a decent portrayal of the start of the SC saga.