"It's a well known fact that I have my head up Mark4's ass."
-Punck
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| The Raighnes Conflict | | | Author: | | | IP: | ga-cmng-XXXX | | Date: | 03/17/03 05:03 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 7, Min: 7
Lifetime Rating for Manius: 6.1667 |  |
Hey, and Happy St. Patricks Day to you all! Instead of posting just Part IV, I've decided to repost my entire story. However, if you do not wish to read the entire story, you can click here to go to Part IV. I've freshened up on my HTML skills a bit, but that probably won't be very noticable. LoL. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story.
The Raighnes Conflict
Captain Yetts was sitting in his office when the news came. Yetts was a captain in the Terran Confederacy. He was assigned under Omega Squadron. Yetts stood at six feet, five inches. He had military-style black hair and green eyes. Always was he found in his neat Confederate Captain’s suit, with his insignia over his heart. Slowly he turned in his chair to face the Lieutenant that stood in his doorway. His hands slowly rested on his neat, oak wood desk. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” he asked him.
“Sir!” A crisp salute was thrown at the Captain, “Reports have just came in from Beta group. They said they incurred in a major battle while on patrols with Zerg forces. They overtook the Zerg group, but they think it was only a patrol.” Captain Yetts would slowly look down at his desk. Great. Zerg on Raighnes. This was just what they needed.
“Lieutenant. Set up a Siege Tank, Missile Turret, and Bunker defense on the western side of the Apache mineral patch. Keep that command center protected. Standard Zerg set up. Three marines, one firebat. Send ghosts on patrols throughout the western perimeter of the planet. See if they can find that damned Zerg outpost. Let us pray that’s all it is.” Yetts nodded to the Lieutenant.
“Yes, sir!” responded the Lieutenant. As the Lieutenant left, Yetts shook his head. He knew this would occur sooner or later. It wasn’t a Zerg outpost, he knew. It was a Zerg stronghold. Slowly he pressed a button to directly speak to his factory manager. They had accumulated seven factories on the planet. “Begin production of Goliath Walkers. Give me about twenty-five. Send them to Apache post.”
“Alright, boys. Happy hunting.” That would be the dropship pilot speaking. Quickly those five ghosts would be dumped from one hundred feet in the air, going four hundred knots. God, Agent 1125 hated this part. BAM! Their suits made contact with the ground, Agent 1125 wincing as their ground shock units helped absorb the hard fall. But then instinct would kick in as he immediately pulled his 25mm C-10 Canister Rifle which was slung across his back, inserting a magazine quickly into its chamber. The squad leader, Agent 1147, would then assign orders,
“Alright, boys. Our mission is to scout the western perimeter. Headquarters will send a dropship to pick us up when they feel we’ve gone far enough. We are to scout out this western perimeter for a Zerg outpost and/or stronghold. If we find one we are to move in and paint for possible targets, then move out. Any questions?” The whole five-man squadron responded in unison,
“No, sir!”
“Then move out, men,” 1147 said. And at that moment, Agent 1125 would turn on his heel, immediately heading out to the south, southwest. He had been walking for about two hours before he heard noise, not finding a thing. His initial instinct lead his hand to his helmet, flicking the switch to activate his cloaking gear which was attached to his HES, or Hostile Environment Suit. He held his C-10 at firing position, his robotic-implanted eyeballs looking around for anything. Someone or thing was out there. Slowly he continued to walk. The ground became elevated, and he gasped suddenly as he reached the top of the “hill”. He was on a plateau. And below him wasn’t a Zerg Infestation. It was a Protoss. He couldn’t scout out that base, cloaking just wouldn’t cut it. Infiltrating that base with just cloaking to hide you was suicide. He looked around before radioing in to base,
“This is Agent one-one-two-five, reporting. Zerg may be on this planet, but I have found a Protoss settlement. They are bearing the color green, which would signify they are of the Akilae Tribe, one of the strongest Tribes the Protoss possess. I am requesting immediate evacuation of the area. My coordinates are One-Niner-Niner-Seven-Five-Eight-Two-Seven. The base is located at Niner-Niner-Five-Five-One-Seven-Eight-Niner-Zero.” He was forced to wait a few seconds before a response came,
“Agent 1125, your immediate pickup has been cleared by Captain Yetts. Evac is on the way. Headquarters out.” 1125 sighed in relief. Slowly he headed down the plateau, keeping his C-10 in a ready position as he waited for that dropship. And right in his vicinity, the ever-watchful eye of Observer 907 relayed the ghost and its discovery back to base.
The information had been received by Protoss Commander and High Templar Mii’eh from Observer 907. The Terrans knew they were here. They being the Protoss. It was funny, almost like a joke. The Terrans had fallen for the hallucinated Zerg forces. But now that the Terrans knew they were here, it was time to attack. So the High Templar slowly rose from his desk, heading outside. Telepathically, he would send the message <It is time, my good warriors. I will want four reavers loaded into shuttles. Twenty-five Zealots and ten Dragoons will accompany the shuttles by foot. You move out now.> So the order had been given. Excellent. This attack force would hopefully wipe the Terran force off this planet, so, for Aiur, the Protoss would command this resource-rich planet. An hour would pass by before the force was prepared to move out, the location of the Terran stronghold already known. He had a vast observer network set up about the planet, relaying him information any time he wanted. He watched the force leave the Protoss base. They would arrive at night, hopefully when all the Terrans were asleep.
Agent 1147 could only smile. He had been marching with the Terran force for nearly an hour now. He had given the headquarters the signal that it was definitely an attack force. After about another hour of walking, he received the order. Quickly he loaded a Lockdown shell into his C-10 Canister Rifle. Flipping the safety off as he went he rested the C-10 on his right shoulder, tilting it a bit so the scope would be over his right mechanized eye. Silently he found his target: A shuttle. After making sure that his aim was true, his finger would slowly squeeze the trigger. The sound of air gushing out of his rifle was heard as the huge Lockdown shell slammed into the Shuttle’s hull. And like an EMP, all electronics were shut down. Its shields failed immediately, and it just hovered there. Immediately chatter was heard among the Zealots and Dragoons as they looked around. Agent 1147 smiled at the chaos he had caused. Now he would radio into headquarters once more, smirking. “Attack,” was the single word he said. And that single word caused all hell to break loose. That single word caused death to be abundunt in a matter of seconds. That death, sent the Fifty-Seventh Airborne CF/A-17 Wraith Squadron screaming across the sky, their Gemini Air-to-Air missiles erupting from their cannons, slamming into the disabled shuttle’s hall and ripping it apart. The shuttle quickly made its descent from the sky, crashing into the ground, destroying the precious Reavers inside. The other shuttle dropped its cargo, though, before being shot down from the sky by the Wraiths as well. Siege Tanks’ 120mm Shock Cannons erupted with a thunderous boom, sending those 120mm shells straight into the ranks of the Dragoons and Zealots, tearing them apart. Blue blood quickly became a topping to the ground as the five remaining Dragoons made their runs at the Siege Tanks, Zealots not far behind. Marines yelled as they opened up with their C-14 “Impaler” Gauss Rifle, 8mm shells erupting from their automatic weapons, directed at the Zealots. But the twin Reavers made a pressing advantage, scarabs coming from their “mouth” and slamming into the ranks of the Siege Tanks and marines. But as the Protoss’ hopes were beginning to look high, they were suddenly reinforced with twenty-five Goliaths. Their twin 30mm Autocannons dove into the depths of the Protoss, directed mostly at the Reavers. And the Terrans quickly completed their objective, leaving only straggling Protoss warriors. They were quickly accounted for. The Protoss were not the only ones with a strong intelligence force.
“What are our casualties at now?” Captain Yetts spoke to his Lieutenant. After another crisp salute, he responded,
““Sir! Five Siege Tanks were lost in the battle along with fifteen marines. All Wraiths and Goliaths survived, some damaged. They are in their respective hangars being repaired by our space construction vehicles right now. Letters have been sent home to the marines’ families.” Yetts nodded, pleased with the outcome,
“Again your service is nothing but perfection, Lieutenant. Award Agents 1125 and 1147 with Medals of Honor. We could not have done this without them. And one hour from now, launch the nuclear missiles to the Protoss’ base. Have we located that Zerg base yet?” The Lieutenant shook his head,
“No, sir. The Zerg base does not seem to exist. We have searched the whole planet, even into its very mantle. There is no Zerg on this planet, sir.” Yetts sighed before starting to think,
“Carry out your orders, Lieutenant. I want those nukes dropped.”
 While Agent 1125 was surprised by the fact that he got to receive the Medal of Honor, Agent 1147 simply smirked. That would be his second Medal of Honor along with a Purple Cross. So the ceremony was to happen an hour from now, where short-range, light damage nuclear missiles would be launched. So, after an hour had passed, Agents 1125 and 1147 would be standing on top of a platform, every troop attending the ceremony. As Captain Yetts strolled down the made aisle, the troops quickly brought their right hands about, resting where their forehead was located over their suits. Yetts smiled as he walked up the steps slowly, turning around. “Earning the Medal of Honor is not an easy task, ladies and gentlemen. It takes hard work, and sacrifice. These two men at either side of me have done just that. And, with great pleasure, I award these men with the Medal of Honor. Slowly he turned, clipping the medal onto 1125’s suit first before continuing on to 1147. He saluted each one and slowly turned to watch the launch. And there it was. Abruptly three short-range, light-damage nuclear missiles erupted into the air from underground, the missiles heading quickly into the sky, heading towards their destination.
And the next morning, they arrived. Those nuclear missiles quickly slammed into the ground, wiping out any troops in their seventy-feet radius, and greatly damaging most of the buildings, blue flames erupting into the ground. Commander Mii’eh only shook his head. As the Terrans said, they were screwed. <Begin request for reinforcements via Gateways to Aiur. We need them. Now.> That was all he could say. The Terrans would be coming very, very soon. All his Photons were gone, and his pylons were not destroyed, luckily. Everything was near destruction, barely able to stay operational. One hair was pulled out of this base, and it would fall apart.
Agent 1147 and 1125 were hiding in the woods in a humid part of the planet. The rainforests were very dense here, but their suit’s cooling mechanism worked just fine. Invisible to the naked eye, the moved silently through the dense forests, their optical implants zeroing in on certain things they should see. They were to scout out the area, and, if they had the chance, to paint targets for nukes. The most recent recipients of the Medal of Honor, they were very arrogant right now as they moved silently, and rather rapidly, through the forests. They stopped when the forest abruptly ended and a Protoss outpost abruptly started. Although they couldn’t see each other, they could sense where the other was. So they looked in that general direction. 1147 turned away from the encampment to radio into base. He was very, very quiet,
“1147 and 1125 reporting. We have located a limb and are proceeding to prick it. 1147 out.” 1147 turned around just in time to see blood splatter all over him as Agent 1125 abruptly died. “What the hell?” 1147 said before he sensed an attack. Quickly he dodged to the right, avoiding the attack by centimeters. Quickly his hands gripped his C-10 Rifle as he fired off a shot blindly in front of him, hoping to hit whatever it was that was attacking him. He missed. He could sense it. He dodged to the left of the invisible attack again, this time part of his arm getting hit, blood immediately staining his uniform. He quickly keyed his radio to base. “1147 reporting. 1125 is dead, and I’m..” he dodged an attack before continuing, “Under attack by something that’s fucking invisible. Get me some evac or something right goddamn now! Coordinates are ten-niner-niner. Limb has not been pricked, repeat..” He dodged another attack, “Limb has not been pricked.” He ducked quickly as he sensed an attack, sweeping quickly towards where the average human’s knees would be. He hit something. He heard a grunt, and saw dirt move. He brought his C-10 canister rifle to bear, quickly firing off three rounds blindly. He hit something. He heard another grunt, then a thump. He felt around with his feet before firing off several more shots, making sure whatever it was that he killed was actually dead. He was breathing hard now, glancing from side to side. Quickly he loaded paintballs into his C-10, firing a paintball at the head Nexus before reloading the deadly ammunition into the rifle. Quickly he ran away from the base, towards his own. It was a good ways away, about 100 miles or so. But the dropship would get him there in no time. He stopped as he saw the dropship, and waved his hands so it could find him. Finally he was out of this hellhole.
““So…tell me exactly what happened,” Captain Yetts said to Agent 1147, who was seated in Yetts’ office.
““Yes, sir. I turned around to radio into base that we had found an outpost, and that we were going to paint it. I turned around just in time to see 1125 get split in two. Blood splattered all over my uniform, as you can tell. It was invisible, whatever it was. I couldn’t see it. But somehow, it could see me. And I was cloaked, sir. No doubt about it. I managed to evade the attack, but 1125 is dead. I’m completely sure.”
“Yes…yes, so sad to hear that. 1125 was an excellent soldier. The fact that you stopped to paint the target is superb, just superb. But should I expect anything less from you?” Yetts offered the battered soldier a smile. “We will be eliminating that outpost with a single, high-powered nuclear missile in a few hours. Your attacker appears to have been a Dark Templar. We did not think the Protoss would have these kinds of soldiers around, because there is much conflict about the Dark Templar within the Protoss society. However, I guess desperate times calls for desperate measures. Now, you were located by an observer many miles before the outpost, we are sure of that. We did not inform you because we wanted the target painted. For risking your life like that, I apologize.” The agent nodded. He knew what was expected of him. “You will not be going on anymore reconnaissance missions any time soon with Dark Templar around. We will have the Science Vessel Eleanor scan the planet constantly. You, my friend, have been promoted to the rank of Sergeant Major for your recent actions. Congratulations. You have been given the rest of the week off to rest. Enjoy your time off, my friend. Dismissed.” The new Sergeant Major gave a crisp salute before exiting the office and the command center. Yetts watched him walk off. Yetts then reached for his phone, pressing speakerphone and speed dial, “Lieutenant."
“Yes, sir?” Came the response
“I want an officer’s meeting in two hours. And launch one high-powered long-range nuclear missile at the newly painted target.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gentlemen, you are here because we have an assault to plan,” Captain Yetts spoke to the officers assembled in a meeting room in the command center, “A strategic Protoss outpost has been eliminated via nuclear weaponry. Now we must move on to the Protoss main base. Here’s how I plan for it to happen. Siege tanks will set a perimeter, each tank accompanied by two marines and a medic for melee attacks against the tanks. I estimate that this will take approximately twelve tanks. While the perimeter is set, we will construct bunkers at the choke point of the front entrance of the base. Intelligence has reported that this is the only ground entrance into the base, which is most excellent. We will then have the fifty-seventh escort approximately twelve dropships loaded with twelve goliaths and seventy-two marines. These units will be dropped in front of our bunker emplacements. This will create a front for our bunkers to work from, protecting our goliaths. Our goliaths will protect our marine front, and the marines will tear the base apart along with the goliaths. Once a marine push has been created deep enough inside the base, the dropships will move our tanks into the base. The fifty-seventh wraiths will engage ground targets only, and ONLY after we take control of the skies. Gentlemen, this is the trump card of our operations here. This operation is codenamed Lurker. My adviser will supply you all with folders on the operation. We begin the assault in one hour, gentlemen. One hour. Rally your troops, because this is going to be one hell of a party.”
Brian Reid rode on a siege tank, looking around on the HUD on his clear glass view port. They were only a few minutes away from the Protoss encampment. He hopped off the tank, and his combat suit allowed him to keep his balance as he walked with the tank, his 8mm Gauss Rifle held in two hands. The gush of air that was the sound of hydraulics could be heard as two steel rods emerged from the siege tanks, those rods digging into the ground, while, simultaneously, the 30mm cannons folded inward, and the 120mm arclite cannons came into view. The ever notorious siege mode. Space combat vehicles cruised past the tanks, beginning construction of the bunkers. The bunkers were nearly completed when abruptly two SCV’s exploded and a bunker caught fire. From farther down the front, Reid could hear, “Reaver! Reaver!” Being shouted. Brian also shouted, informing his comrades. Green lights flashed across his HUD, indicating that he was to stay with the Siege Tanks and protect them from anything that got too close. Then, abruptly Brian lost his balance, falling straight to the ground, as the entire planet seemed to shake. The huge arclite cannons opened fire on the reavers, ripping them apart. He looked around, gauss rifle held nervously. The assault wasn’t going as planned. Brian rolled to the right as the crackle of energy particles could be heard. His suit was slightly damaged, but that was nothing. The siege tank he had been by exploded, sending shrapnel into his suit. Thank God it was so thick. Unaffected by the shrapnel, he stood up, took aim for the thing that had devastated the tank, and opened fire. It didn’t last very long, only a couple of rounds before it fell down. Templar flashed across his HUD. So that’s what it was. Brian had heard about them and their Psionic Storms, which could devastate infantry. They also could create hallucinations. Zealots now tore up the choke point, and Brian quickly opened fire on them, taking them out one by one, making sure none of them reached his tank. He reloaded, and fired quickly, racking up many kills. ‘Enter Bunker’ now flashed across his HUD, and he looked around for a bunker in which he could enter. He found one quickly and ran towards it, laying covering fire for himself. No one else would do it. In this day and age, it was every man for himself. Quickly he entered the bunker through the door and shut it. He rested the barrel of his steaming hot rifle on the bunker wall, firing off at zealots passing by which were much more concerned with the tanks than four marines. Brian was breathing heavily now, and he did not even speak with the three other marines at his side. Zealots were dying by the hundreds while Terran losses were minimal. Brian watched as the fifty-seventh C/A-17 Wraith squadron passed over the bunker, escorting dropships full of marines and goliaths. Brian targeted an enemy dragoon, unloading about forty rounds into the creature before its blue blood covered the ground, and the creature abruptly toppled over. Up ahead, he could see the marines and goliaths behind unloaded from the dropships. It looked like the advance was going well. The fifty-seventh attracted most air-capable enemy units, allowing the marines and goliaths to work while the wraiths picked off zealots. Then the icing on the cake came. The science vessel Eleanor entered the atmosphere, launching off a rocket. It exploded in the middle of the Protoss encampment, disabling all electronics in the area. Shields on the Protoss buildings immediately failed, while some of the electronics failed. Luckily, Terran research had allowed their machines to be immune to such an attack. Words flashed across Brian’s HUD again, ‘Press the advantage.’ He knew exactly what to do. And apparently, the other marines had gotten the same message, because quickly they exited the bunker, running quickly towards the Protoss base. The sound of hydraulics could once again be heard as the tanks were picked up by the dropships and carried past the chokepoint of the Protoss base. The Protoss seemed to be all but trapped. Photon cannons were destroyed quickly. Finally the Nexus was destroyed after hours of work. The Protoss had been defeated. And then the red-text message flashed across his helmet, ‘Urgent! Urgent! Return to base, return to base!’ He was quite confused until he saw the next part of the message, ‘Base is under attack!’
When the Protoss shuttles were detected on radar accompanied by scouts and corsairs, mission command had no idea as to what to do. Captain Yetts was sending out orders immediately, “Red Alert! Red Alert! Turrets online, get the few marines we have woken up and in bunkers! Order our troops back now! NOW, DAMNIT! 1147, you’re in charge out there!” The ghost nodded before jumping out of his chair, grabbing his rifle, and slipping silently out the door to the command room. He ran down the hall, closing his eyes and enabling his cloaking field telepathically, running out the door to the command center, where his optical implants immediately analyzed the situation. Zealots and dragoons were easily breaking through their fronts. He raised his canister rifle and fired off a shot, listened for his semi-automatic weapon to reload, and took another shot. His aim was true, the 25mm round penetrating the zealot’s shields and hitting him straight in the forehead. The high-powered round ruptured brain cells, instantly killing the zealot, bringing the assault warrior to his knees before it fell to the ground. 1147 turned just in time to see the gory sight of a zealot press his warp blade straight into a marine’s abdomen, the zealot flicking his wrist to the left and right quickly, tearing the marine in half at the waist. The zealot would then end the marine’s misery by jamming that warp blade straight through the marine’s faceplate. Blood started to pool around the marine, and the ghost had to turn around as the marine’s insides started flowing out along with the blood. The ghost even saw a zealot trip over the marine’s intestines, which lay on the ground. But the ghost seized the opportunity. The covert ops agent steadied his rifle, firing off a shot at the zealot’s head. Again, he took the procedure of waiting before snapping off another shot a second later, ending the zealot’s life. The agent then spoke into his communications link,
“Base, this is 1147. Casualties are limited so far for the forces we are engaging. We are holding up quite well. The zealots appear to have leg enhancements at the speed they are moving. They do not seem to be able to sense my presence yet. How far away is our attack force?”
“1147, this is base. Hold your position as long as you can. Keep the attack force distracted. The attack force is fifteen minutes away, however we have seven siege tanks being carried by dropship, which will arrive in about two minutes. Base out.” So that was it. Hold position until reinforcements arrived. Fine, he could do that. 1147 saved a marine’s life, snapping off a quick shot to another zealot’s head, taking it out before it had a chance to take a swipe at the marine from behind. That totaled his kill rally to three. He took a few steps forward, moving silently and stealthily around and near the front line, taking potshots on the unexpecting zealots.
His kill tally reached ten before the reinforcements arrived in the form of eight siege tanks. They were dropped about a mile off the front line. The Protoss forces were slowly overpowering the Terran stronghold. But about ten seconds after the sound of hydraulics filled 1147’s ears, the earth shook, massive arclite shells slamming into the zealots. It was a gory scene. Zealots lie around, body parts everywhere. Dragoons were also falling to the mighty arclite shells. 1147 watched as an arclite shell slammed straight into a zealot’s head, knocking it clear off. The decapitated body crumpled and fell. The arclite shell continued on to hit a dragon right-on, breaking the machine into multiple pieces. The head of the zealot continued on as well. The head connected with a marine, going straight through the marine’s abdomen, intestines sliding out of the marine as he fell backwards, hitting the earth hard with a loud yell of pain. Blood started to pool around the marine, a deep, and thick red. A Medic rushed to the marine’s aid. She was forced to pull the lodged head from the marine’s abdomen, and 1147 could see the grimace on her face. She threw the head about ten feet away from her before she started helping the marine to a medic station they had set up. The Siege Tanks alone crushed the Protoss ground forces. The scouts guarding the shuttles then arrived on the scene, shooting over the front and heading straight for the tanks. Agent 1147 managed to lock down three scouts before he shifted his attention back to the front. Finally the main Terran attack forced arrived, promptly sandwiching the Protoss between the front, and their exit. With nowhere to go, the Protoss troops started lashing out at the Terran troops. They would never surrender.
Brian Reid finally came back to his base to find that they had held up quite well. The tanks were destroying the Protoss ground troops, but scouts were ripping them apart. The marine ran forward, aiming his gauss rifle for the nearest enemy target and shooting off multiple rounds. The zealot he had aimed for crumpled and fell to the ground. The Protoss were done. But as soon as the Terran’s were assured victory, a new nuisance was thrown into the fray. A crackling sound was to be heard across the battlefield, and everywhere marines were being torn literally to shreds. Brian was one of the rare exceptions as his soldier-instinct had kicked in and he had run away quickly. High Templar were to be found somewhere. Where, Brian Reid could not tell you.
1147 had taken a sniping post now on top of Barracks Alpha I. The High Templar were behind the troops that had just arrived, ripping them apart. 1147 had already screwed on his scope that came with his C-10. He stood up, still cloaked, and aimed for a High Templar. He pulled the trigger, and not a second later, his target crumpled and fell. The weapon reloaded itself and 1147 aimed again. “What do we have here…?” There was a Templar that seemed to be surrounded by the other Templar. He seemed special. He had many patches and medals and the sort on his form, and he looked nervous. Without hesitation, 1147 took aim. He noticed that the Templar pointed directly at him before he pulled the trigger.
Mii’eh did not know what to do now. His forces had been crushed in what should have been their moment of victory. He had expertly places about thirty shuttles full of his own warriors on the other side of the planet. When the Terran’s attacked his already-ruined base, he had simply put them in battle. But the Terran’s had defended their base fiercely, and his troops could not break through the front that the battle had created. So now his High Council was involved in battle, casting their Psionic Storms. Most of the marines were torn apart by the storms, but the tanks once again prevailed. And they were not able to get to the tanks without suffering losses from his High Council not worth taking. Hallucinations would not fool the Terrans this time. While he was thinking of a plan, his Minister of Economy, Rijah, abruptly crumpled and fell to the ground, his blue-colored blood exiting through his skull. The round was buried extremely deep in his face, which was completely covered with blood. That wasn’t a gauss rifle, Mii’eh called out. Mii’eh looked around, desperately trying to find the sniper. He was a great sniper, whoever he was. And Mii’eh found him, on top of a Barracks, trying to hide himself by cloaking. But Mii’eh had spent hundreds of years studying how to see Dark Templar, and ghosts were much the same way. He pointed just above the barracks, and then realized what was going to happen. <Adun be with--> Abruptly the bullet slammed smack into Mii’eh’s face, blood squirting out and landing on his nearby Templar. He fell backwards quickly, dead immediately. The Protoss were now without their Commander. Without their Commander, the battle quickly folded. The High Council managed to retreat, however, getting into a shuttle and running straight into space, heading for the distant planet of Shakuras were they would report the loss to the Conclave. All Protoss forces lost their lives that day but the sixteen High Council members that managed to evade death’s fist. Blood of blue and red covered the ground where the battle had occurred. Occasionally, it mixed, showing a dark green color. One hundred, eighty-seven marines lost their lives that day, while twenty-five were injured. Ten were in critical condition. But in this loss, the Terran’s had gained an extremely important location, perhaps even a new capital if they ever lost Tarsonis. Confederate scholars would study this battle for years. Yetts had truly given a superb performance.
Captain Yetts was extremely sweaty when the battle finally ended. He had a victory, with only bunkers being razed in the mess. They had a second outpost already established in the Protoss’ old base. The resource-rich planet was theirs. For now. Yetts had ordered cleanup of the bodies, and to have the troops report to count losses. When finally, at 0300 hours, the cleanup was finished, the troops returned to their barracks for a week’s worth of rest. The Confederacy had two dropships arriving tomorrow with sixteen marines. They would have duty for base security while most of the troops rested. Agent 1147 was promoted to Captain by the Confederacy after the battle, but still took his orders from Yetts because Yetts had been promoted to a General. A huge ceremony was held for Yetts promotion, because becoming a General was not an every day occurrence. He was given a white uniform, with four Medals of Honor and two Purple Hearts. It was indeed a glorious day. Brian Reid was one of the lucky few soldiers that remained uninjured throughout the entire events that happened on Raighnes. He received no promotion, however, and was sent back to base duty after his two weeks were up. This huge battle was nicknamed the Battle of Battles because it truly turned the advantage to the Confederacy in the struggle. To this day, it is known as the Battle of Battles. General Yetts stood in the war room of his Command Center, looking over his operations. He had one outpost that was called Alpha Post. The Terrans had conquered the Protoss stronghold here, and know had a Terran stronghold. Raighnes was theirs, and it would take a massive attack for the tides to change. But the Protoss were not to be underestimated, because the Protoss had a trick up their sleeve now. And now, unbeknownst to the Terrans, a new kind of threat was on Raighnes. It was slowly infesting the planet, just waiting for its chance to attack. Raighnes’ defenders would be tested again, soon enough.
Well, that's my first fanfic. I think I might've rushed the ending a bit, but I'll let you decide. You let me know...in a MATURE manner. Thanks. So now, I'll bribe the raters a bit with this hot girl in St. Patrick's Day color...
This has been a report
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