Starcraft

Five years ago the space above Umoja could be described as nothing short but a mess. The free and profitable trade that had made the Umojan Protectorate strong attracted every trader in the Koprulu sector to pay the brilliant blue planet a visit at least once in their careers. Now, because of the Dominion blockade only a few scattered ships remained in orbit. On the surface, many a flight control operator was no longer in service and the numerous landing pads on the surface were in crumbling states of disrepair. Like a mother hawk ready to swoop in to protect her younglings, the Washington stood watch over the small fleets of ships.

Captain Alexander stood at the helm of his fair vessel, surveying three dimensional monitor which showed every ship within a million kilometers of the planet, courtesy of the ships sensors. It wasn't a very thrilling exercise, as traffic was dim. The only thing that could be seen visibly outside the window were a few flashes of hyperspace windows opening or closing. Out of boredom, he took a rare opportunity to survey his home world. It was a beautiful planet, really, much like the Earth of old stories it was darted with beautiful glistening oceans occasionally obscured by magnificent plumes of atmosphere. The large amounts of oceans ensured huge tropical storms and hurricanes were a common place to hit the occasional continent. He could see one overtaking the one that contained his home village of Andersonville. With a mixture of slight sorrow and relief he noted that at least he had no family to worry about there.

"Sir, we're receiving a transmission from Fleet Command." A helmsman announced, before turning to him and saying with a small voice of concern, "It's on a secure channel."

"Go ahead and answer." The captain said.

"Hello Alex, this is Admiral Melbourne." A voice announced, flooding the bridge. Alex recognized the voice from a few staff meetings, but this was the first time he had ever been contacted by him directly.

"Sir What do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'll get straight to the point. We have just received information from an informant source about the Belnard Pirates. It isn't looking pretty. Word is that there is a Dominion operative amongst them who has secretly been supplying them with some of their more advanced equipment. If this is true, those bastards may be able to renew their attacks against our shipping lanes. Our informant also gave us information on their base in the Delragan Asteroid field. He claims their defenses have been upgraded tenfold. We're talking everything from MK6's dragons to a nuclear missile compliment. Though we have reason to believe our contact was killed right after sending the transmission, this could all be a damned bug zapper. I do not want to waste resources on it without making sure about what we're walking into." He paused for a second. "I want you to take the Alexander to the neutral mercenary Port Plymoth. A few of our own operatives have reported increases of pirate activity. Apparently, they've been trading with the local mercenaries."

"Is it possible they could be selling Dominion equipment for their services or other assets?" The Captain asked.

"It is, though we haven't been able to find any evidence of up-front transactions. We want you to go in there and find the connection between the Dominion and the Blackstars any way you can. I'll send you a full briefing report soon. Admiral Melbourne signing off."

The planet of Delragan. One of the biggest hell holes in the universe. The only law is money. That and firepower. The port of Plymoth was especially notorius. And the Belnard pirates have both. Kyle Reed was not a fan of the Dominion. And the Dominion are actively searching for him. Of course, that doesnt mean he should hide. He watched as a "friend" of the pirate leader Orfis, some guy called "Lynch", made some deals, and somehow had gotten his hands on state of the art Dominion weapons. Unfortunetly, he could reach the Dominion scum, there were too many guards, even for him. 12 Marines, 4 marauders, 2 medics. However, they all soon left.

He waited for all of them to leave the room. He droped down from the vent he was hiding from. They had left 2 cases on the table, and took another 2 with them. The first case had some X-1 commando rifles and a shit load of ammo, as well as some buisness transactions between the 2. He also found a code sheet. The second case was filled with money. 500000 credits. He took both cases, however, 2 of the guards came back into the room. Kyle rushed toward the window, shooting it and them jumping through. He was on floor 3 of a 4 story building. He was on the roof, as the 4th floor was smaller then the other 3. He took out a grappeling gun, and used it to grappel to the other side. He took out a zip lining device, and used the grappeling wire to zip line toward the exit. Of course, more and more guards were comming, and the alarm was raised.

He hit a button on a device on his wrist. A modified vulture bike activated and came under Kyle, who dropped onto it. He fired an explosive at the door blocking the exit, blowing a hole big enough for him. Of course, they were using Hellions, which could not fit. "And thats why you should be prepared for everything...."

"Attention all hands." Alexander spoke over the intercom to the entire crew of the Washington, "We are about to debark from Umojan orbit. Our mission is simple: we are to attempt to find a connection between the Delragan Pirates and the Dominion, whom the latter we believe may be supplying the former with highly advanced weaponry with the intent of further hampering our trade. Needless to say this cannot be taken lightly. In order to do this, we will be paying the Delragan port of Plymoth a visit. You will be receiving further details about the mission later" His voice than took a more stern tone, "Though chances of orbital combat are slim, I ask any civilians who may not wish to place themselves at risk to leave immediately. You have eight hours to make that choice before we leave. After that, I will not turn this ship around for anyone. That is all."

The Captain was slightly fearful, yet confident about the coming mission. The port of Plymoth was home to a lot of scum, but not of the variety that may have the balls to threaten the Umojan military, especially not the combat hardened badasses of the Washington. His plan was to have teams sweep to the port and do whatever they could to obtain information. Be it questioning locals, mercenaries, pirates, or even interrogating the two latters. Alexander knew that this option could lead to combat or heightened tensions between the mercenaries and their government, but he knew that if even one more civilian were to starve to death in Umojan space, it could be because of him. In the end, finding some way to confront the pirates could be the only way to finding out if the information was true. If they were desperate enough, they could end up using the more advanced Dominion weapons rumored to be bought. However, they'd still need to find a direct connection between the Dominion military and Bernard pirates for this information to gain its true value. Alexander would be quite pleased if that was the case.

This could be just the diplomatic trump card needed to get the Dominion to back off.

Andreas woke up a little bit before the intercom relayed the message. He listened intently to the intercom transmission. So the Umojans thought that the Delragan Pirates were receiving their equipment from the Dominion. Interesting. The Dominion has made public releases that it has never had any connections with pirates and terrorists. This could be interesting. He took out his signal scrambler, and punched a secure number into his suit's comm system. the other end of the signal picked up. "Yo, Kyle. I got something for ya..."

Alexander plopped down into the Captain's chair and turned towards the navigational officer. "Plot a course to about two thousand miles out of Plymoth and engage hyperdrive. As soon as we arrive plot a sublight course."

"Right away, sir!" The officer said tersely with a salute before entering commands into his console.

The Iron Hand of Umoja than turned to his fire control officer, Lieutenant David Webb "As soon as we drop out, raise shields. I don't want any risks. Also, keep the weapons underpowered. A half-brained pirate may take it as a threat.""

"Aye, Captain. Will do."

The Captain nodded, "Good, you have the bridge Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir!"

With that, the Captain stood and walked in the opposite direction from where his chair was facing. He took note of his bridge crew as they walked. The ones that were required to be constantly attentive such as his Intelligence Officer were working nearly non-stop at their consoles on the circular bridge, as they should be. He allowed himself to have no thoughts of admiration towards them. It may lead him to pass the occasional compliment Not only did he think that nice words could make them cocky, but because they did not deserve it. You should never join the armed forces for your ego or for admiration. The only satisfaction you should get from it was seeing those who you are protecting live. If you were succumb to both they will make you weak and fill your head with thoughts that do not need to be there. He would occasionally hear some of his men talk behind his back about what a hardass the Captain was and how he never would give them credit for their hard work. Fuck them: Those who had even the slightest sense of neediness had no place on this ship. He was tempted to expel them but was stopped by his rational side. Nobody could be perfect, it was human nature to grasp for approval. Still, he would not be the man to give it to them.

The bridge door flew open automatically and he made haste down the cold, lifeless steel hallway. The only noises were those of distant feet echoing about and the engine flaring to life followed by a low hum. He entered the ship's cantina with a lit Burny's Best cigarette in his mouth. Unsurprisingly, the mood was calm for a ship about to enter a potential combat zone. There we about ten people occupying the bar built for a hundred. A few of them turned to see who had just entered before returning to their drinks. He spotted one of the Protoss warriors conversing with someone at a table

Good, at least they're starting to integrate.

In the background, the song A Zerg, a Shotgun, and You could be heard. He cringed at it. Why people wished to remind themselves of that abomination for a species existence was beyond him. He made his way to the bar counter and ordered a glass of water, not wanting to drink any beer to dull his mind. In fact, the only reason he came here was to contemplate the coming mission, for the bridge offered too many distractions. He took a sip of the copper-filled water before entering a cyclone of thought.

"Aye Captain will do." From his seat, a step down and to the left of the command chair, David looked to the computer display of the Washington's shield control. He looked over to the Navigations officer as the Captain gave David the bridge. "Thank you, sir." The two were friends from the academy Lieutenant Nathan Halvern was a damn fine navigations officer and a good drinking buddy. As the Captain stood and exited David and Nathan both stood and saluted in respect to the traditions of the Navy.

As soon as Alexander had left and the door closed, David looked back over to Nathan. "Yeah I bet he meant you. I don't really have a job till we get there."

Nathan shook his head as he stared into his computers. "Whatever, man, it doesn't bother me any. You take the big chair." Nathan was of course speaking figuratively. Neither of the junior officers would dare to sit in the Captain's seat. Even so they both turned their heads to look at it. Imposing with authority even when vacant. David turned back to his weapons and shield read outs. Looking to the Yamato Cannon screen he pulled up the energy reserve data and quickly closed it. Next Daivd turned to the direct fire lasers and began powering down the turrets he reduced them all down to standby mode. They would be ready to fire in a mere five seconds. A lot could happen in five seconds of space combat but David would take nearly that long to acquire firing solutions anyway.

Four more days until the deadline.

UNN Field Reporter Kate Lockwell was sifting through the pile of papers on her desk: written reports, intercepted transmissions, bursaries and even Emperor Mengsk's grocery lists, glancing over each of them before crumpling them viciously and practicing her three-pointer with the trash can. Unfortunately, she was never any good with sports, so by the second hour mark the floor had been littered with crumpled paper balls, and some dashes of torn-out jet-black hair.

Ten rumors investigated, leading to nine dead ends and one repulsive discovery about the hygiene standards of Terran Marines in an interview, and she has not even a draft for her editors. No scoop. No breaking news. This was the end of her short-lived journalist career.

Kate was promised high-octane frontline action when she came aboard the UPS Washington, but the only action she witnessed was when one of the ship engineers cheated during their game of bridge and they had to toss him out the airlock. She supposed she could write a story about the psychological effects of prolonged travel in space, but that was as bland a headline as you could get. Things like 'Zerg', 'pirates', 'Raynor'. Those got the people's eyes widening.

Sometimes Kate wished that her story would come so easily as to be shouted out via loudspeaker clear enough for her to hear. Today she got her wish.

"We are about to debark from Umojan orbit. Our mission is simple: we are to attempt to find a connection between the Delragan Pirates and the Dominion, whom the latter we believe may be supplying the former with highly advanced weaponry with the intent of further hampering our trade. Needless to say this cannot be taken lightly. In order to do this, we will be paying the Delragan port of Plymoth a visit. You will be receiving further details about the mission later."

Her head that had been lying flat on the desk suddenly shot up, a paper clip fastened obstinately on her tresses.

"Though chances of orbital combat are slim, I ask any civilians who may not wish to place themselves at risk to leave immediately. You have eight hours to make that choice before we leave. After that, I will not turn this ship around for anyone. That is all."

"Like hell I'm gonna leave now," she said under her breath, simultaneously reloading her camera and cocking her pistol. Or was she cocking her camera and reloading her pistol? It didn't matter. As long as she knew when to shoot which.

___________________________________

She reached the bar much longer than she intended. The UPS Washington was a large ship, and she was never good with navigation.

"Commander Alexander," Kate greeted confidently, with the professional, aloof air so demanded in her line of profession. She offered her hand, her microphone in the other, "Kate Lockwell, Universe News Network. I understand we are about to engage in some orbital combat against pirates. I understand the need for military confidentiality, but is there anything you would like to share with the people back home about the war we are facing here?"

Like hell Andreas would be leaving anytime soon. Feeling his mouth a little dry, he reached for his canteen, only to find it empty. Still keeping his comm with Kyle open, he mounted his suit and went to the cantina. His scrambler would block the ambient noise, but he might still be found out. Either way, he couldn't take the taste of toilet water much longer. The cantina was not packed when he arrived. The patrons looked up at his form a little longer than usual. They were jumpy, he could tell. He spoke into the receiver. "Kyle. We are heading your way soon. I'll contact you later when we reach orbit." He sat down on a barstool near the interveiw, and simoultaneously turned on his recorder and ordered some water.