Mar Sara Aerodrome.
The sun was about to set, and cold and darkness shrouded the brightly lit aerodrome. The glow of the floodlights and signal indicators cast a thin overlay of interwoven red, blue, and white on the aerodrome's buildings of varying heights.
The aerodrome was filled with Mar Sara refugees everywhere. These poor people, who had reached their destination only after repeated setbacks, revealed joyful expressions the moment they saw the lights symbolizing the brilliance of Terran civilization. But it did not take long before every expression froze on their faces, because they would soon discover that tens of thousands of people were still waiting to be evacuated ahead of them.
At times like this, the dark side of human nature began to swell. Everyone hoped they themselves would be the first to escape, and the collapse of order sometimes took only an instant. If not for the Revolutionary Army soldiers with rifles in hand still maintaining order, this escape would quickly have turned into either brutal fighting between people or a frenzied stampede.
The wide, dark-silver alloy platform in the docking area was packed with Mar Sara residents desperately wanting to flee, as though mushrooms stuffed into a can. They shoved their way toward the boarding platform, and each time a red-painted Revolutionary Army transport took off or landed, the crowd would shift forward slightly.
The surging tide of people was strong enough to push even Revolutionary Army soldiers wearing CMC-powered armor. At such a moment, those squeezed in the very center were undoubtedly the ones suffering the most; once someone fell in the crowd, they would never again have a chance to get back up.
Everyone felt genuine tension and fear—afraid someone would suddenly tell them that the ship just launched had been the last batch. Meanwhile, those who boarded the ships vented their joy at having narrowly survived in all sorts of ways.
Mixed into the crowd were all kinds of sounds—cheering and sobbing coexisted, and from time to time someone prayed.
The people of Mar Sara were among the most resilient of all Terrans. Before the Confederacy's intervention, they had even managed, relying on outdated weapons and Molotov cocktails, to briefly resist the Zerg, and stories of towns or even villages hunting alien creatures were commonplace. But that did not mean that, as humans, they felt no fear—especially when what they faced were terrifying, innumerable alien monsters.
The fate of the Sara system was destined to become an inescapable page in the history of Terrans in the Koprulu Sector. It was the first clash between humanity and the other two alien races in the universe, and it ended in a disastrous defeat for the Terrans.
At this moment, Augustus, who had just gone through a brutal battle, was striding quickly along the road from the port entrance toward the command center, with only Sarah Kerrigan, Corporal Faraday, and a few other soldiers following him.
Several hundred yards behind Augustus stood the fortification wall outside the aerodrome, piled with autocannons, Revolutionary Army soldiers with loaded rifles, and crate after crate of ammunition, while dozens of searchlight beams crisscrossed as they swept through the sky.
In the past dozen or so hours, the Zerg that had followed close on the heels of the last batch of refugees had already seized all areas outside the central district of Mar Sara City. Using the Central City Park outside the aerodrome as the dividing line, the infestation was still spreading toward the city center.
Outside the silver-gray metal fortification wall, one could faintly hear the Zerg's low roars and the crunch of claws stepping over broken glass; in the darkness, countless pairs of red eyes were watching the people inside the aerodrome.
Soldiers in heavy red powered armor patrolled back and forth along the defensive wall; machine gunners, standing on improvised platforms made from stacked crates and metal ladders, were wiping down 20 mm electromagnetic cannons and 12 mm Gauss machine guns. The upper mounts of the closely packed missile turrets kept rotating, ready at any moment to open fire on the Mutalisks sweeping across the sky.
Mar Sara was being defended entirely by veterans of Augustus's Guard Division. They had been following him ever since he single-handedly founded the Korhal Revolutionary Army. They had once fought against the finest forces of the Terran Confederacy, and now they were fighting on the front line of the battlefield between Terrans and the Zerg.
The Marshal's Guard was also known as Augustus's Personal Guard; they owed direct allegiance to Augustus and to his Mengsk family. These Korhal-born veterans were well equipped, clad in CMC-300 powered armor with red as the base color and gold trim, and their helmets bore the white scarred wolf's-head emblem of House Mengsk.
As Augustus walked, he waved in greeting to his veterans, immediately earning many looks of reverence.
Up ahead of Augustus, the launch pads of Mar Sara Aerodrome sent off a batch of shuttles and transports every few minutes. The orange flames bathed the ground and the upturned faces of the people below in red, and the exhaust plumes of hundreds of thrusters formed walls of fire climbing into the night. Every time a batch of ships lifted off and departed, waves of cheering would erupt from the crowd.
These ships, which had already shuttled back and forth between the surface and space many times, had long become covered in scars from the corrosive burn of Zerg acid. Whether flying from the ground into space or landing on Mar Sara's surface, each trip was a perilous adventure.
Over the past several day–night cycles, the Revolutionary Army had already lost more than twenty APOD transports along with everyone on board, and even more fighters and fighter pilots had disappeared while escorting the transports and grappling with the Mutalisks.
"They're cheering for the ships lifting off—people on Korhal IV did the same before they escaped." In Augustus's dark gray eyes, the brilliant lights of the aerodrome were reflected; on his stern, forceful face, a somber gloom appeared from time to time.
"Someday, humanity will no longer need to flee its own home."
"War cannot erupt on Terran soil." Kerrigan understood exactly what Augustus was thinking at this moment. She was staring intently at the man beside her, captivated by his thoughts and everything about him.
"Better to meet the enemy on the battlefield than to be caught off guard within our own walls," Augustus said.
"Well said, Augustus. But honestly, this is something the Confederacy should be worrying about. We don't have to concern ourselves with the fate of all humanity. To tell the truth, what do the lives and deaths of these Mar Sara people have to do with us? If you ask me, this is just a dog meddling in rat affairs—busybody nonsense." At this moment, Tychus Findlay, Hank Harnack, and Jim Raynor walked over together.
They were clearly fresh off the battlefield; their deep red powered armor still bore the marks and dents left by acid burns. Harnack had also taken a hit—his helmet had been pierced by a Hydralisk during combat, and a chunk of flesh about four inches long and three inches wide had been sliced from his right cheek. For now, he was relying entirely on strong sedatives and painkillers to stay upright.
Of course, in Harnack's own words, he had merely been scratched a little by a small snake.
This time, Harnack's face had been ruined for good; he would inevitably be left with a commemorative scar. But with current laser reconstruction and skin-grafting surgery advanced enough, as long as he was willing to spend the money, none of it would be a problem.
"I think… that's pretty much it," Harnack muttered indistinctly.
"It's not the same, Tychus. If all humanity is wiped out, what the hell are we going to have a revolution for?" Raynor removed his helmet, revealing a bruised and battered face. "Ideally, the Zerg and the Protoss will wipe out all of the Confederacy's forces in one go. Then we can easily take down the Confederacy Parliament on Tarsonis and those aristocrats—and after that, unite all the colonies to stand together against the enemy."
"It looks like the Confederacy has absolutely no intention of defending its territory—they want to act like a bunch of turtles pulling their heads into their shells. They keep shrinking their defenses and turn a blind eye to the fall of the frontier holdings."
"What happened to your face?" Augustus had long known that Harnack had suffered an injury to his face, but Raynor's situation he was not clear about. "Hank, I think you really should get some rest."
"My unit can't do without me," Harnack replied.
"Got into a fight, that's all. It's over now." This man, who loved tearing across terrain on a Vulture bike, had just taken a heavy fall when the fuel engine of his beloved vehicle malfunctioned. Naturally, Mar Sara's 'God of the Vulture Bike,' Raynor, would much rather admit he lost a brawl than say what actually happened.
"Why don't you check whether old Tychus is hurt at all?" Tychus cut in.
"You look as strong as a bull." Augustus shook his head. "I never doubted that."
"Good thing you made it back." Then Augustus asked the Revolutionary Army Senior Officers before him, "What about the others?"
"We're doing fine. As for the brothers who died, we brought back as many as we could. But for those units that were nearly wiped out, the situation is awful. The unarmed refugees were in even worse shape—on their way to various aerodromes and temporary landing zones, people kept falling behind. They either lost their way or were eaten by the Zerg—those who didn't make it back." Raynor said.
"There are large numbers of missing-person reports from every location." Augustus had already ordered the Marshal Command to get in contact with the communication consoles of each division, instructing his general officers and officers not to leave behind a single person—whether that person had once been a scoundrel or a good man.
"I'm afraid we don't have any time left to wait."
"Send out a few more mobile units and low-orbit armed skiffs to search for survivors nearby. As long as they succeed even once, they may save many lives." As Augustus spoke, he frequently glanced at the sky, wary of Mutalisks or other Zerg resembling arthropods or beetle- and claw-limbed creatures that might appear at any moment.
"But it's already dark. Even if someone is still alive, I'm afraid they won't last through the night." Tychus was none too pleased. "Worst thing is, the bugs don't sleep at night."
"I'll take people out there," Raynor said. "I know this area well. If we can save even a few more, taking on extra risk is worth it."
As Raynor spoke, he headed toward another landing pad to organize his personnel. Meanwhile, the chaotic roars outside the fortification wall grew more and more frequent, and sounds of wings beating and sharp shrieks came from the air.
Augustus's eyes widened slightly as he lifted his head toward the sky.
The sky resembled a black curtain flickering with countless starlights—many of whose brightness nearly rivaled the moon. Each one was either a massive Mammoth-class or Wanderer-class Terran transport lifting off, or the burning wreckage of one.
However, the brilliant starlight was gradually obscured by shadows as large numbers of Zerg flying organisms began circling high above. Their numbers were so vast that they resembled a drifting raincloud.
Although the Jormungand Brood was primarily a ground-combat swarm, its sheer size meant that even the relatively small proportion of flying units far exceeded the Terrans' air forces.
Outside the aerodrome—protected by numerous Paristeel fortification walls, bunkers, and electromagnetic cannons—darkness stretched in every direction except for the beams of a few watchtower searchlights.
In the darkness beyond Augustus's sight, purple-black creep had already covered more than eighty percent of Mar Sara City's districts. Upon that sticky, sprawling creep, dark red Zerg tissue nodules swayed upward among mycelia, pustules, and human corpses, looking like a massively accelerated timelapse of fungal growth.
Black-brown and flesh-colored Zerg spires had replaced the grand glass-domed skylines of human skyscrapers; Zerg eggs were buried deep within warm underground incubation chambers and the gradually cooling bodies of humans. In the moist lairs, white gel-like masses—like clusters of fly eggs—encased each human dragged underground, their terrified, contorted death expressions still plainly visible.
In the darkness beyond the wall, the sounds of tens of thousands of Zerg running and restlessly baring their fangs rose and fell without end.
Ear-splitting alarms immediately blared atop the fortification wall. Officers ran back and forth, ensuring that every heavy machine-gun team and every gun emplacement was ready to fire properly. The crowd also erupted into commotion and cries of alarm, but it seemed that those still remaining at the aerodrome had already resolved that if the Zerg truly arrived, they would fight them to the death.
"Damn it, the bugs got here this fast." Tychus muttered under his breath. "Did you hear what those twisted little monsters were saying?"
"Dinner time."
"I knew it wouldn't go smoothly," he said. "After this, I swear I'm packing up and going back home."
"Fighting bugs isn't worth the pay I get."
"Not finding a pretty girl is the reason you complain every day. If you want, I'd rather you just turn around and go back now." Augustus walked toward the fortification wall behind him, listening closely to the sounds outside as he moved.
"Oh—I was just saying." Tychus shrugged and shamelessly followed him. "I love roasting bugs."
"The Zerg don't seem to be coming for us." At this moment, Kerrigan spoke while rubbing her aching forehead. "I can sense the swarm's thoughts."
"That's good news," Tychus said happily. "It's either Omega Squadron still stuck on the surface or some other unlucky bunch. Thank them for drawing fire for us."
"But those people must be somewhere not too far from us. Otherwise, the bugs wouldn't be passing through here."
"What else can you sense?" Augustus looked at Kerrigan with concern.
For a high-level Terran psionic like Kerrigan, as long as she focused carefully, the psychic and mental 'voices' would amplify significantly—just like how raindrops hitting the ground would sound like thunder to an ordinary person.
"It's the Protoss." Kerrigan paused.
"Contact our reconnaissance units—" Augustus had just spoken when he immediately received an urgent report from the command center.
"Marshal, the scout craft has found a small Protoss ground force at the northernmost edge of Mar Sara City. We don't yet know why they appeared there, but right now it looks like the Protoss have run into trouble… the Zerg have surrounded them." The report came through his earpiece, mixed with electrical static.
"How far are they from here?" Augustus asked.
"Approximately twenty-five miles," came the immediate reply.
Augustus fell silent, his brows tightly furrowed as he pondered something. Four or five seconds later, he finally said, "What about Raynor? He just took people out."
"Wait—you're not thinking of rescuing them, are you? We don't have to do that." Tychus said in shock.
"If they were Tal'darim, I would ignore them without hesitation," Augustus said. "But if these are Protoss, it's different."
"You expect the Protoss to be grateful to us? And maybe next time, before they blow up a planet, they'll give us a friendly heads-up?" Tychus said with no small amount of sarcasm.
"What good is it to make friends with aliens?" he said.
"We don't do things that bring no benefits."
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