Well, everyone, I have (hopefully) learned some lessons from the comments of the previous installment. That being said, I did my best to implement your suggestions. Enjoy.

Chapter Two:
 
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It was one week after Artanis’s possibly apocalyptic decision, and the ripples of his action were still being felt through the Sector. Of course, some of the afflicted parties simply weren’t aware of what they were dealing with, one good case being found on the ruined world of Korhal. Here, Arcturus Mengsk, defeated leader of the once-great Terran Dominion, had made his first claim to power, and, ironically, here he was again, his empire smashed in defeat. Not a stranger to the arts of war, he had situated his base camp in a deep valley, flanks covered by the enormous sandstone cliffs, and his rear by a large tar pit. Once-gleaming buildings stood dusty by the never-ceasing winds, and the sands had been red for weeks now. “Can someone tell me what the hell happened a week ago?” Arcturus Mengsk growled at his communications officer as he slowly paced the primary command chamber. The pale little man, sweating profusely, glanced up at the screen and continued typing feverishly, almost too fast for Arcturus to make out. “Sir, something’s been killing our signal. I’m trying to get a VAP-link on it, but it says here that the energy source is too far away to track.” The man was talking about the new Visual-Audio-Psionics tracking system, VAP for short. It was a major technological breakthrough in intelligence gathering, acting almost as a Zerg Parasite, and relaying constant information. Of course, there were major differences from the living creature that buried itself in your skull. For one, it could be deployed both from a modified ComSat Station and a unique robotic launch droid that could be quickly used in the thick of battle. For another, the link wasn’t too steady and tended to snap after a certain amount of usage. Lastly, the signal strength steadily deteriorated as the target got farther and farther away, until it became virtually useless. The upside was that the signal somehow restored itself to full reliability, as it got closer to the VAP Emission Plant. All in all, it was a cheap, highly feasible method to supplement and complement the Scanner Sweep, and it was certainly preferable to sending in soldiers with no purpose but to die, listening and watching until they did so. Arcturus was surprised at that statement, voicing it.  “It’s too far to track, but it’s still screwing with our systems?” A good thing about the VAP was its almost unlimited range. It was useless at that distance, but it was nice to have as a contingency. The two of them discussed that energy source for a while, possibilities and outcomes, until a familiar warning broke his reverie. “Our base is under attack.” That dull, female voice, so empty of emotion, was really getting on everyone’s nerves. “Damn it.” Arcturus muttered softly. These raids came almost every day now, and it was always increasingly harder to turn them back. This time, it was no different. Hundreds of sprinting Zerglings, deadly in their agility and ferocity, flowed across the broken desert landscape, a wave of destruction about to fall on his weakened fortress. Behind them were the Hydralisks, fearsome beasts with their shining scythes raised and their blood-crazed eyes glowing red in the afternoon sun. Arcturus glanced down at his own meager defenses. It was not a welcoming sight. A broken line of Bunkers dotted the cracked ground, the neo-steel construction dulled by the incessant dusty winds. They had long since given up on camouflage material, as it became obvious that the Zerg saw right through it. Scattered Missile Turrets protruded from the jagged buttes and cliffs, rotating launchers spinning slowly as the scope radar hunted for in the cloudless sky. These Missile Turrets were different, though, from the normal kind. While the traditional and widely-used Confederate design called for a completely surface-to-air defensive structure, the Dominion’s style allowed for the launcher head to both rotate and slant in every direction. With that added mobility, it could target both flyers with its Longbolt Missiles and ground units with its new Hammerhead Rockets. Though these additions did cost more in terms of Minerals and Vespene Gas, not to mention time, Arcturus felt it a necessary expense. Unfortunately, only a few Siege Tanks still stood among the wreckage of their fellows, though they had managed to salvage some of the cannons. Without anything to mount them on, his engineers had simply and ingeniously stuck them on top of the Bunkers on rolling bases, adding to the Bunker’s already generous firepower. With so little against so much, Arcturus had his doubts for his self-preservation. And so the Zerg wave smashed into the weary Terran defenders. Marines in the Bunkers fired desperately into the mass as quickly as they could squeeze their triggers, careless of aim; there were more than enough enemies to justify that. Modified Siege Tank cannons swung slowly on their buttresses, firing explosive rounds that sent Zerglings flying backwards to smash into their fellows with a burst of blood. The Siege Tanks bombarded the Zerg in flashes of flame and light, leaving nothing but a scattered corpse where they hit. Missile Turret launchers fixed in on their targets, and the incendiary Hammerheads flew from their holders, engulfing portions of the mindlessly rushing horde in solid sheets of fire. But it was not enough. Ravenous Zerglings tore into the neo-steel Bunkers, instinctively directing their razor-sharp claws to the weak points, the firing orifices. Hydralisks roared their battle cry, some leaping forward to hack at Tank cannons with their scythes, others staying back, chest cavities opening and unleashing a hail of needle spine fire upon the Terrans. Above the frenzied melee, a pack of Mutalisks fired their Glaive Wurms, slashing through armor and walls alike, while a squadron of Wraiths vainly attempted to keep them at bay, Gemini Missiles veering and strafing to find their pre-selected targets. At first, Arcturus looked at the situation in some contentment. Then the first Bunker fell, the imploding structure killing two of the inhabitant Marines in an explosion of ammunition. The other two, scrambling through the wreckage, were quickly torn down by Zerglings and slaughtered, bodies being torn into ragged shreds. The cannon above it seemed to last a second longer before detonating brilliantly and killing more of the Zerglings surrounding it. Up and down the line, the same was happening, buildings crumbling and the desperate screams of dying men clearly heard through their helmet speakers. Arcturus was panicking, sweat beginning to form on his brow, and was about to call in a Dropship when the last thing he expected happened. A Protoss Arbiter, marking symbols depicting two crystals, clear and dark, hovered overhead, and every computer in the room died with a whine of fans and a darkening of displays. Though that was a painful inconvenience, it could only mean one thing. A shimmering blue vortex opened before his eyes, spinning funnels of chaotic energy whirring and flashing. Groups of Protoss air vessels appeared out of that mass, Scouts, Corsairs, and a strange new ship he didn’t recognize. They all bore the same interlocked-crystal emblem. Then he saw the Carrier, a massively crafted behemoth that could quite possibly destroy the entire attacking force by itself. A wave of euphoria and relief washed through him, as the powerful engines of the Protoss ships flared in a shining blue. These Protoss could hardly want him dead, when all they would have had to was wait a few more hours. At most. Arcturus chided himself for his rambling, directing his eyes back onto the scene, where a blanket of radiant energy washed over the battlefield, a seemingly endless myriad that stretched farther than the eye could see, covering the ground in sparkling light. Then the rage of the Protoss began. Scouts and Corsairs engaged the mass of Mutalisks with their energy weapons, giving the last few Wraith pilots a sigh and a prayer. The unknown ship began firing rapidly, three jets of energy emanating from a centralized turret located on the bottom of the oblong ship. The carrier opened its Interceptor Bays, and tens of the robotic fighters skittered through the air, picking off targets one at a time. Then something completely unexpected happened. The carrier itself began firing, hundreds of tiny lasers seeking their individual targets. What in the world was happening? To his right, his communications officer hailed him. “Sir, I’ve got the computers back online. The Zerg are going down quick, and I thought you might like to talk to these Protoss.” The man handed him a device clearly meant to fit in a Protoss hand. “What the hell is this?” Mengsk inquired, turning the device over and examining it. “It’s a Protoss communications device. We managed to steal one in the Korhal skirmishes, but the technology officers haven’t been able to duplicate anything but the outer cover. They think it’s holographic, but we haven’t been able to make it do anything yet. I guess we need somebody to actually talk to.” Arcturus thought quickly, tapping his left foot as he always did when in deep concentration. Abruptly, he snapped. “Get me a VAP on that Carrier and get me their communications sub-code. Let the Ghosts break the encryption; they’ve been wanting a challenge.” As the man hurried off, Arcturus settled into his chair, anticipating and planning. Maybe this wouldn’t end so badly after all.
 
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In the bridge of the Gantrithor II, the three highest-ranking Protoss in the universe stood next to the visual display modules, machines that created a virtual environment out of what the ship’s sensors detected. It appeared to the three of them as if they stood on the ground, with Protoss airships speeding above them. If they looked back, they could see where the illusion faded into the metallic surfaces of the ship. All in all, it had no significant use, a showy device that would probably make Terran scientists lose consciousness as they realized the complexity of it all. They watched the massacre calmly, each having commanded in more than a dozen major battles. They had no pity for the Zerg, either. The two of them had seen enough blood shed on both sides for any remorse. “Are you certain that this was a wise decision, Zeratul?” Artanis asked dryly as he watched the carnage around him. Klithon, standing with them, also voiced his concerns. He had fought in the battles on Korhal at the time of Fenix’s death, after which Mengsk’s Terrans had fought a brief, vicious sortie with the surviving Protoss. “I agree with Artanis, Prelate. These Terrans have betrayed us far too often in the past to disregard.” Zeratul cut him off reproachfully. “Enough, Klithon. I cannot find it in myself to let my allies die, tenuous as they may be. Arcturus Mengsk aided us at the battle of Omega, and for that he has redeemed himself in my eyes…slightly. No, my friends; in spite of all his trickery, I value his life and the life of his men above that of the Zerg, for which he should be grateful indeed. I am gathering all the allies of old. Together, we shall strike down Kerrigan and destroy the Zerg forever.” There was an uncomfortable silence after that; no few had tried, and most of them were dead by now. Almost as quickly as it had begun, the battle was done, and the not one Zerg had survived the slaughter. Concentrated fire from Scouts and Phoenixes left no corpse other than a scattering of flesh, but the blood of their mutual enemies washed the already red sands. Zeratul blinked suddenly as his personal communications device activated, projecting a smiling image of Arcturus Mengsk in front of them. Gesticulating arrogantly, the holographic image began speaking. “Why hello, Zeratul and Artanis. It’s been a while, hasn’t it now.” Klithon strode up to the image and spoke irritably. “What do you want, Terran scum? How did you receive the access codes for this transponder?” If that statement at all aggravated Mengsk, he hid it surprisingly well. “Well, I wanted to have a chat, and your encryption is simple. My Ghosts are surprisingly good at breaking codes; I believe they’ve made a game out of the entire process. I just came to say thanks for helping me out. I would have been able to do it myself, of course, but I appreciate it anyway. Now, I have a deal for –“ Zeratul cut off the transmission, speaking almost ruefully as he did so. “Ah, Mengsk, I don’t think you’ll ever change.” The precise meaning of that was left in doubt as the Gantrithor II re-entered orbit with yet another destination. They were sure Mengsk would follow; his protection and self-preservation depended on it, and Mengsk had never been one for suicidal thoughts.
 
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The dark planet of New Articus rotated slowly on its axis, striated clouds and storms rushing across the surface at impossible speeds. The world was truly forsaken and completely inhabitable – or so they had thought. A fleet of epic proportions was descending into encirclement formation, ships almost no one would recognize. Every last one had the identical emblem, a white shield with three letters upon it: UED. Their flagship, Alexandria, was a true battleship; over five times the size of a traditional Battlecruiser, it housed more than a hundred Infantry Transports and two hundred assorted warships, four-winged Immortal fighters, rotating black octagonal Darkwing bombers, long sleek Trueshot frigates, and bulky, slow Orbital Research Facilities. In the stark, austere room decorated with straight black chairs and a single, plain table, two men talked in low tones, though they was no chance of eavesdropping; it was just how the two of them were. “What have we here, Kennar?” Abdular Yulan spoke to his general and closest friend. Normally quite jovial, the man had no knowing smile today. It seemed as if the happiness had slowly been drained out of him since their departure from Earth. Kennar Irij laughed softly. “Well, Abdular, it appears that this planet is inhabited by those ‘Zerg’. I’ve been missing a decent encounter with an enemy; perhaps this will be fun.” Both of them shared a grin over that. Kennar Irij, a stolid, conservative man, had met Yulan at the infamous Everest Military Facility, known both for the quality of officers produced there and for the amount of international laws the institute broke during said production of quality officers. There, they had shared long hours of painfully dull work, striving to become the best that there ever was. Unfortunately, their rivals, the Admiral DuGalle and the Vice Admiral Stukov had beaten them to it. After their catastrophic defeat, Yulan and Irij had pleaded to the government to allow them command of the UED Primary Task Force. They had gotten their wish, and now was the time to prove that their years of training were more than delusions and folly. The long weeks of travel from Earth had tired them both, with nothing but a combat simulator to work with. Quite frankly, the two men thought the simple two-dimensional device child’s play, not dealing with morale, luck, fuel and ammunition, weather, gravity, or any number of variables present in a real battle. In fact, the two of them stopped bothering to use it after the second time. It detracted from their combat intuition. True, it had been useful to work and understand from the enemy’s perspective, but that information could be divulged through scouting and other forms of reconnaissance. “So, my friend, what do you propose we do about these ‘Zerg’?” Irij asked, fully expecting and knowing the answer. “Why, we blast them into oblivion, and then we move on. No more than a day’s work.” Yulan replied in his usual manner, arrogance and sarcasm and pride all mixed together. True, it could get annoying, but his military genius more than made up for the social shortfall. Yulan picked up his com-link, flicking the switch to set it to the proper frequency, speaking in his ‘leadership voice’. “Gentlemen, today we have before us our first military encounter. The ‘Zerg’ you have all heard about are solidly entrenched in this rock of a planet. The battleships will fire at the planet itself, with the other craft residing within their docking bays. When the enemy comes out, you will exit and engage. I expect nothing other than complete success. Good luck, and have a nice day.” As he finished, Irij let out a snort; Yulan’s infamous closing line had garnered some respect and no little laughter over the years. The two kept watching from their position on the command module; everyone had trained for this, and they all knew what they had to do. Red ATS/B Lasers flashed from the ship’s three main guns to leave ominously smoking craters on the planet’s surface, and down the line, the other ships were, too. With apparently no escort, they looked to be weak and vulnerable, when in truth, thousands of capable ships lurked inside the massive docking bays. Indeed, the Zerg reacted as expected, masses of Mutalisks and Devourers streaming through the gaping holes the intensive bombard guns had created. On cue, almost ninety sets of hatches opened, and then the slaughter began. Yulan watched one fighter exclusively, as his only son, who almost begged to be part of the fleet, piloted it. He had absolute faith in the ace pilot, but nevertheless, he worried. Karid Yulan faced two Devourers alone, a dangerous match for the experienced. But he was the best there ever was. The fighter sped towards the first, rotating laser batteries firing quickly. The Devourer’s deadly Corrosive Acid shot towards the Immortal, and Yulan held his breath. At the last moment, the fighter broke away in a    quick barrel roll, causing the burning substance to miss the Immortal and hit the other Devourer instead. Irij noticed the father watching, laughing softly. “Do not worry for your son, Abdular. He seemed to be born for the pilot’s seat.” The Devourer’s subsequent bloody explosion gave proof to Irij’s statement. Yulan turned his eyes to watch the larger battle, confident of his son’s ability to handle the other Zerg beast. The planet was really no more than a smoking mass, and the remaining Zerg were going down quickly, either to an Immortal’s Starflash Laser or a Trueshot’s set of four Arc Rockets. Finally, as the Alexandria’s latest lasers hit their target, the planet exploded in a blinding flash, leaving shards of rock floating in the void. “I suppose there was some volatile material in the core; probably some nitrate compound” Irij muttered, but both of their thoughts were on the same level. Had they engaged closer to the planet, some of the planetary matter could have easily destroyed some of their craft. Though it would not have been accounted a large loss, early deaths did tend to skew with otherwise high morale. Upon seeing the sudden doubt in his commander’s eyes, Irij reassured him. “Do not worry, friend. This will not end badly.” Though his words were full of confidence, Yulan merely shook his head and left the room. Irij stayed a second longer. Gazing at the destruction in their wake, he gave a silent prayer. Then he left the room, shutting the silver door with a harsh clap. There was work to be done, and worry could not be allowed to show on a commander’s face.

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Well, I think some people seem to be getting the wrong impression from my writing. I'm simply a student in the summer who likes to write and also plays Starcraft (though I don't have a disc or the game installed on this computer). My purpose in writing these are to entertain you all (obviously) as well as to gain some experience in writing. To that end, please leave constructive criticism in the comments section. Thanks to all who spare the time to read this.

Cheers,

MidnightGladius