Intro 2: Captured

2481 C. E.
BATTLECRUISER "VINDICATOR"
TERRAN CONFEDERATE EXPEDITIONARY FLEET "LAMBDA"
PLANET 2481L38ET, UNKNOWN SYSTEM

Aboard the Vindicator, things felt grim.
‘Our ships are to follow the special enemy arbiter vessel and land in the designated area on the ground, admiral.’
‘But our ships cannot land, sir. They have no landing gear, we will damage the batteries on the lower side, not to mention any antennae we have on our bottom,’ a scientist from the consoles noted.
‘Damn, inform these… Protoss that we cannot land,’ Anders said in suppressed anger. Williams focused and after a few seconds responded.
‘They say that we need not worry about that, admiral. We will leave the ships. That is, empty them.’
‘What? I swear, when this is all over, I’ll personally make these aliens pay, I will!’ Anders growled out.
But there was nothing he could do. Out in the space, the fleet aligned in a column, Vindicator first, and followed a tiny Protoss vessel. The designated “arbiter’s ship” was a bit smaller than a dropship, but its three huge horn-like wings curved smartly backwards made its overall appearance larger. The two carriers were keeping an eye on the column, one at the middle and one at the end. Their mini-fleets of interceptor robo-fighters were at the ready, hovering around the massive carriers like flies, reminding the humans not to make any mistakes.
Chester was analyzing the destination. The planet was mostly covered with lush vegetation, hidden under the many clouds floating above the surface. There were five or six distinct bodies of water – enormous isolated blue oceans, spanning for thousands of square kilometers. The land between them was green, most probably due to the presence of photosynthesizing flora. There was a dusty strip that ran along the equator and the icy poles confirmed the hypothesis that there was water here. Chester wondered how long it would take Umoja to study all the life forms that this planet must be housing.
As the Terrans were entering the planet’s stratosphere, Williams was getting more instructions from the Protoss.
‘The Protoss say that we need to follow the arbiter to the place where we land our ships, admiral.’
‘Hell, there ain’t nothing we can do.’ Anders grumpily responded. He turned to the personnel on the computers. ‘Do what he… Ahem, they, say.’
‘When we get there, we are to land and leave the ships. We may send an SOS if we want to.’
‘Do it.’
‘We will be escorted by their troops to a special open space, where the crews will remain. We can bring supplies like food or things we need to sleep in. If they see us using weapons, though, against them, everybody will die,’ the ghost continued in an emotionless tone.
‘There’s going to be soldiers close to our camp?’ the old man groaned.
‘Erm, yes, we will be guarded while they search the ships for the sphere.’ A pause. ‘They are going to take them apart.’
The admiral’s face became pale and his eyes opened wide and focused on Williams.
‘What did you say, captain?’
‘I am telling you what they are telling me, admiral. They will take the battlecruiser and the other six vessels and everything else that flies apart. Then, they will search the pieces for the sphere. Until then, we will wait for somebody to rescue us, I believe.’
The old man’s fists were clinched so hard that the joints of his phalanges were almost white against the skin of his hands. Everybody on the bridge was beginning to realize the gravity of the situation they were in and some of the men were wishing they hadn’t embarked on this mission. The admiral ordered all officers into the conference room and there, he told them,
'Boys, there is something you should know,' he walked next to a steel box that a crew member brought. 'These aliens are looking for this.'
He opened it and took out a ball. Boris looked at it and two seconds later realized that it was like nothing he had seen before. It was a small sphere, about twenty centimeters in diameter. It had a tarnished dark surface, with several sparkling dots. However, they were moving. More precisely, the sphere was actually transparent. It was the cloud of dark, fluffy gas in int that gave it the color. The bright dots were moving, in its interior. They were, as Paskirov saw to his great surprise, actually tiny sparks of light that slowly moved in various directions, like miniature fireflies.
'This, gentlemen, is Confederate property. It's ours. We found it, we keep it. We will bring it to the Confederacy. At ease.'
Everybody left to their previous tasks.
A while later, in one of the wings of the Vindicator, Paskirov wondered what would become of the sphere. It was a truly wondrous thing, the artifact. Williams was really lucky to have stumbled upon it. Too bad that now it would be taken away by the Protoss, but – they had the greater force so they made the rules. What would the admiral do about it? He surely had to hide it somewhere, because he knew his old boss well enough and Anders was a man who liked to kick back when the situation allowed for it. He would not just let the enemy get the precious thing, for not only was the sphere vital for his retirement, but it was also a trophy, now that the Protoss wanted it. And although the enemy had metaphorically forced him to move at gunpoint, they could not control his plans and wishes. Paskirov hoped, that some vengeance was already underway, so he ordered a lower-ranking man to finish the job at the hammerhead’s restricted access radar apparatus, while he himself headed to the bridge to have a talk with Anders.
‘Permission to speak, sir?’ he said upon entering the bridge close to the admiral.
‘Everything going well down there, Paskirov?’ Anders inquired with suspicion. ‘Why did you come here?’
‘Sir, the repairs are ready. I came, because we could not contact the bridge from the board phones there, something’s wrong with them.’
‘Damn, this pile of rotten old steel will come apart before even these aliens begin working on it. Well, good of you to inform me, anyway,’ the old man replied and Paskirov thanked the heavens that he forgot that there were other phones onboard between the bridge and the hammerhead that could have been used instead. ‘Now that we are stuck here, you might as well be at ease. Hold on! You will be responsible for a group of our crew. You heard how we are moving out. You are taking the gunners from the hammerhead batteries. You are leaving after the engineers have moved out. Am I clear?’
‘Sir, yes, sir! Our boys will be led in order,’ the lieutenant said in a brave voice. ‘Also… May I inquire into the future of our friend, Captain Williams’ discovery?’
‘Yes. We will put it… Wait, let the ghosts leave,’ the admiral waved at any ghosts that could still be here, but there were none. ‘We’ll put it in the repair bay and place explosives there. If anything opens the door without dialing the five-digit code or tries to enter through the walls, an explosion will occur that will destroy the sphere. Also, the sharp tools there might even take out one of these Protoss down. They won’t get what is not theirs and the best thing about it is that it will look like an accident. Clever, no, lieutenant?’
‘Why, quite so, sir,’ Paskirov answered, feigning awe, but on the inside, he was feeling disappointment about how things were developing.
‘Alright, boy, go take care of your men. You will hear when to start moving out.’
Paskirov obeyed the command and decided to head towards the canteen for something. On his way there, he felt fear for what could happen soon, for the unfavorable situation this fleet was now in. For Paskirov, like for everybody onboard, the near future looked bleak. He saw the glowing red sign “CAFETERIA” on the dark steel wall of the narrow corridor and entered through the grey sliding door. In the cafeteria, there were two men, probably gunners, and Chester. Boris walked to his black friend and greeted him.
‘Hello, ready for the humiliation that will be inflicted upon us?’
‘Frankly, Boris, my concern is the sphere. I will try to smuggle a microcamera or something, maybe even my computer. One good thing about this is that we are getting to see alien life, what do you think?’
‘I think that if you care about the sphere, you might be disappointed with what the admiral is planning for it.’ He lowered his voice so that the two others could not hear. ‘Granps has made sure that if we do not get it, no one else will. He’s placing it in a room with explosives that will destroy any unauthorized Protoss.’
‘WHAT?’
‘Hey, quiet. Yes, that’s what he told me personally. Bad news, but that’s that. It will be in the repair bay.’
‘No, way. I’m taking it out with us.’
‘Are you crazy? Who knows what will happen if anyone finds out. There’s nothing you can do, Chester, just let it go.’
‘Yes, there is. I will get there and take Williams’ thing before we all leave.’
‘The probability of success is very low, you know that. Better quit.’
‘I know, Boris. It’s just that…’ he looked the other way. ‘I really want this. It is amazing, this artifact. Plus, it’s not only old Anders’ career that depends on this. Although you are probably right, it is doomed.’
‘You could always try. And then think of an excuse. The other brains have less expertise on most subjects than you, so you should lie them easily. And sooner or later, the problem will be forgotten,’ Paskirov suggested.
‘Yeah, well… I could be taking my pills or something. Probably when the time comes for leaving the ships. But still, I could fail.’
‘You always can, do not worry. This is war, absolutely everything can go wrong at any given moment. We may even die, you and I, unsuspecting and unprepared, from an unexpected explosion at any place on this ship. Danger is everywhere in this world, my friend, creeping next to us in every action we undertake. The thing is not to be afraid. Calamities are rarer than they seem, especially when we have planned things well. Be brave and audacious, so even if you fail, you will try something new and the more things you try, the better chance you have to succeed.’
‘Sure, thanks. I will try. Probably not as easy as it sounds.’
‘Yes. This is essential military philosophy. Also, the second chapter is about friction and how things can… Well, never mind that. Remember – fortoona awdaseys ewvat: fortune favors the audacious. Because they keep trying,’ Paskirov raised his index finger in a mentorial fashion. ‘What is your plan so far, if I may know?’
‘I will go bug something close to the repair bay, so when I am supposed to leave, it will malfunction and… No, wait, that’s stupid. I am not supposed to care about that.’
‘Right. Plan B?’
‘Coming up. How about I forget something important? In my cabin. Something like medicine or whatever. Presumably, I will need it to stay alive, so I will run back, head to the repair bay, take the sphere, hide it in a bag or something and come out.’
‘Not bad. What about the “authorized access” part?’ Paskirov made one of his preemptive looks he two men were gone. ‘There is a five digit code that you will need to crack. Anders told me that himself.’
‘Well,’ Chester looked down in contemplation. ‘There is no built-in lock on the bay door, so they will need to make something improvised. One thing would be weld two steel loops and put a neosteel lock around them. The neosteel locks we have onboard are one model and have 5 digits, so it could be one of those.’
‘See, you can plan it out yourself,’ Paskirov smiled. ‘What if it’s not that?’
‘Right… Then, I will make sure it’s that. I will go and disable the remote controls for opening and closing the door. I think I will even break the door a bit – so that it stays partially open. This way, the guys will be forced to use the locks.’
‘Haha, you will make a good chess player, man,’ Boris laughed. ‘But there is a matter that might annul your success. These Protoss, they can talk to Williams using only thoughts, telepathically. What if they are able to read thoughts and read yours? They will immediately seize you, take the sphere, and either destroy our ships or let us go. In both cases, however, you will be punished severely.’
‘Oh, damn. You are right. Well, I have an idea. You will sedate me. I will take too long to come and you will go back to take me. Then, you will inject me with something that will make me lose consciousness and will take my body out of the ship. Yes, it may work. After all, I may have been to late to actually swallow my pills. Yep, that works. Can you do it, Boris?’
‘Sedate you? Sure, just prepare the syringe. You are the guy with the basic medicine knowledge around here.’
‘It is decided then. Once I come out, I will keep my belongings safe until we are at a calm place where nobody knows about Williams. I’m leaving now, wish me luck,’ Chester stood up. ‘I will tell you when I’m done so that we can arrange my unconsciousness.’
‘Be brave.’
Paskirov waited for several minutes before returning to his post.
***

The evacuation began. The Terrans started leaving the ships, group by group, under the watchful glowing eyes of the Protoss. Paskirov exited through the second door, so he could not see what was happening to Summers or Chester. He could only focus on staying calm and not drawing unnecessary attention to oneself.
For the first time, he could see what the aliens really looked like. There were many of them between the ships now, guiding the groups of Terrans in the designated direction. The Protoss were tall and awe-inspiring, despite for their stance, which was slightly bent forward. They wore dark blue robes and scarves, wound rather loosely around their bodies without any particular symmetry. Under the clothes, Paskirov could see that their chests and shoulders were broad, in contrast to their slim waists. Their legs had two main joints, and unlike the leg of a human, they bent at both the knee, and what seemed to be the heel, like some species of wild animals. He thought that maybe Chester would be interested how the Protoss were stepping on their toes and not on their feet, and how they had only four fingers on their hands, with two of them thumbs. It was also wondrous how their eyes seemed to be made of light instead of flesh and looked like bright glowing little purple drops of gas against their bleak, mouthless and noseless faces. A pity that the first encounter with them had to be in the roles of captives, Boris thought.
The groups were being formed in a rough line and ultimately got directed through a corridor in the nearby wood. This corridor was formed by heavily armed Protoss warriors standing on both sides of a trail between the trees. These particular aliens made a strong impression on Boris when he had a chance to observe them on his way through. They wore full body armor that only left the head and small parts of the body revealed. It was composed of solid gold panels, thicker than even the archaic human plate amour he had seen in some books on military history. Its design was sturdy, but smart and curving around the body of the wearer. The most amazing thing about it, though, was that it was made of solid gold. One such suit could buy a whole skyscraper in the center of Tarsonis, the capital of the Confederacy and Paskirov's home city. Also, the armament had decorations. The scarce twisting lines were almost indistinguishable, but the three crystals each suit had stood out. Two were located on the outer side of the lower arm panels. The third was encased on the chest. Two huge golden rail-like arches started sideways from the centerpiece on the chest and, going diagonally over the shoulder, ran all the way to the back. They added to the majesty of the guards' figures, but it was the bright glowing purple eyes that completed it.
Paskirov kept going onwards, trying to stay low and not give the guards any reason or opportunity to do something harmful. The path entered the woods and proceeded for several hundred meters to the very top of the wide hill that overlooked the valley he had just left. When he reached the edge through the shadowy woods and the ubiquitous Protoss, he saw a sight. On the top, between two armoured huards, stood a third Protoss, more senior and rugged in appearance. He had no armor but only dark blue cloth covering almost all his body except for his purple eyes. He had a plain black cloak, an ornate golden pendant with a blue crystal like those on the armor, and two golden lower-arm plates identical to the standard issue in their force. The eyes of the Protoss glowed more deeper and steadier, if it was possible. Their sights crossed and Paskirov felt the pressure of the alien upon him, but refused to yield. He then suddenly remembered that he was trying to blend with the crowd and he turned his eyes away. The Protoss did not reveal any emotions.
As Boris walked down the slope, he looked at the designated field. It was wide and green, flat and surrounded by lush woodlands. His group moved to the inside and under the noon sun the men fell to sleep on the ground.
In the evening, he woke up and the field was filled with people. Groups of tired and discouraged Terrans from the fleet made up this huge open prison. In the distance, beyond the stretch of no man's land, there were armoured Protoss in one huge circle. They were situated on the high ground that went all around the field and were keeping a vigilant eye on the human captives. In certain intervals, there were also bulky spider-like machines, at least the size of a tank, as much as Paskirov could see. They added to the intimidating look of the enemy and Boris' estimate was sixty of them pluse another two- or three hundred Protoss fighters.
He decided to go to his admiral and find out if anything had happened. Although he felt morose, Anders ought to be feeling even worse, because the responsibility for this calamity lay with him. Yet, the commanders had no plans. There was nowhere to go.
Not far from there, Chester looked at the environment. There were no birds visible, nor were there any animals. The trees were ten to thirty meters tall, with wide crowns. The leaves were with the shape of elongated spades and ended in an elongated tip. Such shape helped water flow off the leaf easier, so this kind of leaves meant that the particular species of plant had been exposed to lots of rain for many generations. The planet’s climate probably had a wet season. He immediately regretted that he did not check the orientation of the tilt of the planet relative to the star it orbited. If he had, he could determine the season, although… He remembered that this planed did not have expressed tropical regions, hence its tilt ought to be small. Also, there were no fallen leaves visible under the trees, so there probably were no long periods of temperature extremes. Although there were species of plants that lost their leaves in cold seasons or in hot seasons, basic botany suggested that these were not.
He wondered if the Protoss would work in the rain or they had, in their amazing technological advances, found out to make accurate forecasts or maybe even control weather itself. Of only he knew how their machines worked, he would be able to work miracles for his home Umoja.
The hours passed slowly and tediously. The Protoss guards were like statues, barely moving, ever watchful and steady in their positions. The sun had set and the twilight was being replaced by a starry night. The familiar blackness, Chester thought, when something caught his attention. A section of the sky, over the supposed location of the Protoss camp, was turning purple. In a minute or so it was becoming brighter and brighter, as a bright light shone in its center. Chester noticed that others were also watching and there were even surprised voices wondering aloud what alien trickery this was.
‘Hey, wake up, Steve,’ he called and shook the sleeping lieutenant next to him. ‘Take a look at this. It’s pretty.’
‘What the hell is this, mister scientist?’ Summers said annoyed.
‘I’d be famous back in Umoja if I knew, man. Although, knowing my luck the last 48 hours, it must be something bad.’
‘I’ll get Boris, you stay here,’ Stephen stood up.
The thing looked like a vortex in the sky, pointing upwards. It looked as if purplish clouds were spiraling around the bright center. The light from the portal or whatever it was shone brighter, over the dark crowns of the trees and on the astonished humans in the site. Even the Protoss were turning to see it.
Suddenly, tiny black spots appeared out of nowhere in the midst of the vortex. There were tens of them, pouring down from the sky like snowflakes in a blizzard. The Protoss began showing signs of uneasiness. The guards were looking around, as if awaiting for something to happen. Chester realized how vulnerable he was if anything bad - he could not even guess what - happened to the Terrans. Next, sounds started to be heard. He was not sure if he could hear blasts or not, but there was something wrong. In the distance, the flying things had stopped pouring and the vortex was shrinking. As its light faded, new flashes appeared, this time from the surface. As if a small thunderstorm was raging, he thought, not in the skies, but on the ground. A hand grabbed his shoulder.
It was Boris.
'I have news. Some are beginning to argue that this thing that's happening could be of use to us. Do you notice anything unusual about the guards there?'
'N-no?'
'Look carefully,' the lieutenant pointed to a section in the wall of guards.
Chester saw something unusual. Three of the Protoss left, followed by the four-legged machine, and descended into the darkness of the trees towards the location of the explosions.
'They are leaving. Probably recalled to their base, which makes us think that the base is attacked and needs reinforcements.'
'Is that a good thing?' Chester asked.
'Yes, because the less guards there are, the easier it would be to escape if we decide to.'
'Escape! Wow, good news at last.'
'There is a meeting shortly, where we will think about it. I have to go there,' the lieutenant said.
'Wow, well - good luck, I guess?'
'I don't know.'
He left and Chester stood on the ground, looking at the night and the lights beyond the trees.
Some time later, Boris returned.
'I went to the meeting there. We are planning an escape. Can you scientists think of a way to make it easier for us to break through their circle?'
'Why, I guess. Maybe the chemists could mix some explosive. Also, it is possible that the sleeping bags burn. And, we have signal flares, do we?,' Chester began.
'Right. Do your best in innovation and I will come back in an hour to see what you have and tell the command,' he said and left for the admiral.
Not far away, in a circle around an improvised map on the ground, the people in charge were making a plan to get everybody back to the ships. Leading an unarmed crowd was not something military people were fond of, but the Terrans had one crucial advantage - their numbers. It appeared an ugly prospect to Paskirov to make a breakthrough like this, because it was largely like a herd running past a few hunters with guns. Some of the men would never make it to the ships.
Going onto the them presented further difficulties. If anything vital was missing, for example a power conduit towards the oxygen filtration sistem, the ships would be unflyable and would have to be abandoned. Their only hope was for the Protoss to not have begun their search yet, so that the vessels remained untouched. Or, to make the already sleepy repair crews patch things up.
Furthermore, there was the issue of the warp jump. Once the ships were in orbit, they needed several hours to warm up. The admiral and the officers concluded that upon lifting off, the fleet was to move away from the Protoss base and then five hundred kilometers above the surface. Everybody except the people in the most important posts would rest for an indefinite amount of time, while the engines were warming up and people required for the situation, like pilots or battery personnel would be awaken when necessary. The men were already exhausted and there was no need to rush them. Hopefully the Protoss would not notice until it was too late, or would be destroyed by whatever was attacking them, and everybody would get home safe.
The destination was the Confederate orbital docklands on Truldon IV, a huge Confederate military stronghold.
The officers also agreed on the breakthrough. Paskirov went away to Chester and returned with news about the available technology. All things that burned well, from lighters to specific clothing material was prepared to be sent to a special part of the field from hand to hand. There were signal flare pistols, who fired a rescue firework-type of projectile that could be used to at least frighten the enemy to a degree. They were given to the marines that were ordered to make the breakthrough and be in the first lines.
Finally, the command decided what the arrangement of the forces had to be. The least expendable men would be situated in the front, right behind the marines. That was Anders and several of the officers, but not Paskirov or Summers. Pilots and qualified specialists would follow, while at the end, there were those, who did the most mundane and routine jobs in their ships. In order to avoid any hints at segregation, the commanders decided that groups of the more expendable troops should mix up with the overall structure in order to both diffuse any blame for abuse, and make it harder for the Protoss to target the more important people in the fleet.
Paskirov was assigned to lead the pilots of the Vindicator's fighters.
The calmness of the night outside the circle of guards was still disturbed by the distant conflict. Hope grew each time a group of Protoss guards left for an unknown place and those who saw hoped that things were not going good for the aliens. Some hoped for liberation, however other, more skeptical men, dared not imagine that whoever was assailing the Protoss would have any reason to be benevolent to Terrans from the Confederacy.
The plan was settled and Paskirov went to gather his men and form them up in the right place in the queue for escaping. The whole crowd was in order, and they waited for the admiral to decide when was the right time to launch an escape.
And so, the moment came. All of a sudden, the mass of prisoners became unusually active and surprised the Protoss guards. As already ordered, avialable signal flares were being passed forward, while easily ignitable objects were transferred to the back side of the field, where the enemy's attention had to be drawn.
The unusual behavior was not unnoticed by the guards and several approached through the night air towards the crowds. Somebody noticed them and shouted,
'They are coming!''Commence the distraction!' Anders shouted at the groups and his command flew from mouth to mouth back to the rear. An explosion quickly ensued and the escape plan was set in motion.The inflammable pile of junk erupted in a bright flame and gave the humans the needed diversion. The circle of guards began twisting in the direction of the blast, curious at what had just happened. In response, the Terrans began their breakthrough. By order of Anders, a hail of signal flares burst at the few Protoss that now barred the least protected part of the circle. These Protoss swung back and covered their unprotected heads with their hands, allowing the humans to make the huge first push towards the ships. Chester noticed that some people had smuggled small firearms, like pistols, and now used them against the enemy.
The giant mass of hundreds of people began running back to the valuable warships they had left behind. Among the multitude was also Boris, hurrying to safety. When the pantherine is guarding his territory, even a thousand bantus dare not pass, he knew, for although the pantherine would not be able to kill more than a few, each of the bantus could be among those few. Funny then, how military organization defied this, as the Protoss guarded their territory. Tonight's human prey had sleeves and up those sleeves it had tricks: tricks like science or teamwork and organization. Like bantus , everybody knew that some would never make it to the ships. Like bantus, everybody was afraid of the possibility of dying, more or less, from Anders through Paskirov and the Umojan, to the common gunner. Unlike bantus, however, the humans were organized and worked as a team. With the exception of the re-socialized soldiers, everybody knew that the braver he was in following orders, the better his chances of survival were.
The masses were moving onward and the scale of the revolt shocked the Protoss guards at first. Some of them tried to restore the circle, but the first groups had already gone beyond it and were entering the unlit woods. The aliens tried to restore the circle and some of them ran across the human flow, jumping in the crowd. Their proximity made many hit against each other, trying to move on and maintian a safe distance, but the overall momentum of the crowds kept everybody going. Paskirov was still on the inner side of the circle. He saw two men in front of him, one of them probably a marine, suddenly change direction and the huge figure of an armoured Protoss emerged ten to fifteen meters away. The alien was apparently confused and it tried to prevent random people from getting away, but in vain. Paskirov was approaching it and when he was at half the distance, the alien became aggressive and grabbed a nearby human and threw the poor guy a few meters away. Boris realized the grave danger he was in and he made a run for it. Trying to stay away, he ran with his best speed, but as he was passing the Protoss by, he heard a deep buzz and looked sideways. A pair of glowing blades had suddenly appeared, continuing straight outwards from the armor panel of the Protoss' lower arm. The blades glowed with a pale blue light and illuminated the golden armor. Their length was almost a meter and they were slightly diverging outwards, forming a narrow letter V. The alien swung them against a nearby marine and they sank into the soldier's chest. Seeing the blades stick out the poor fellow's back, without a drop of blood on them, Paskirov quickly stepped towards the trees, past the Protoss. He ran among terrified strangers, his only hope being to reach the safety of the vessels at one piece and breathing.
All of a sudden, a similar double blade appeared a meter in front of his face coming straight at him. He instinctively ducked and heard the hum of it moving through the air above his head. Behind him, another human growled, probably receiving the hit intended for Paskirov. The lieutenant crawled up and forward, trying to start running again, and as he looked back, his eyes met the glowing yellow eyes of the Protoss warrior. In between the terror and the efforts to pay attention to the situation developing around him, a sudden throught of the elegance of the design of the armor flashed in his head. He then realized that he had managed to escape and, not able to do anything about the men he was tasked to lead out of this, he rushed forward into the dark woods of the hill.
There were many other people there, some talking, others taking a breath, but all headed in the same direction. Paskirov kept moving and in a few minutes, the familiar silhouettes of the battlecruiser and the other ships appeared on the other side.He leaned against a tree, relieved and still trembling from the adrenaline rush. He wondered what had happened to the others, but a new sight grabbed his attention.Armored marines were coming out of some of the ships. They were coming this way, under the light of the projectors on the ships' sides. Boris felt glad when he saw medics walking behind the troops. Somebody had had the good idea of giving a hand to whoever was still behind and Paskirov felt that the person who came up with that deserved a medal. Also, the Terrans were extremely lucky that the alien foe had not yet touched the armament.
He thought about Summers and Chester. Were they here yet? And what about the admiral himself? How would the high command react to the absense of the precious sphere? He hoped that they would just assume the Protoss took it and stick to that thought. Although, even if they did make a thorough search of all the ships, Chester could hide it somewhere where it was impossible to find. Boris dared not doubt the creativity of his black Umojan friend, especially when something like progress was at stake. When Anders found the empty room, he could only envy the supposed technical mastery of the Protoss, and, perhaps, ask of the Confederacy to give him a bigger fleet to get the sphere back. It turned out to be very elegant, Paskirov thought with self-satisfaction, how he and his friends could keep the sphere for themselves, while still safely blame the Protoss without the Confederacy knowing a thing. After all, nothing good could come out of the Confederacy keeping the sphere for their own selfish goals.
Boris moved upright and headed for the Vindicator, past the returning people. Nobody lingered in front of the ships, he noticed, everybody wanted to get in. He waved at the passing marines and went back to the battlecruiser to join his crew again. The trees covering the elevation that separated the field from the small valley, which is where the ships lay, stood off with their black shapes against the starry sky. In the distance, there were still flashes and the sounds of a battle, where the enemy base was probably situated. He thought of looking for Summers or Chester, but decided that without armor, weapons and something that provides night vision, he was just another casualty if he entered the sight of a Protoss warrior. He belonged to his station, so he made it past the two medics at the door of the ship, told them he was fine, and went in.
He made a detour. Summers' and Chesters' cabins were empty. Keeping his eyes open throughout the corridors, he went to the cafeteria, but in it, there was only an engineer drinking something.
He began,
'Hey, have you seen lieutenant Summers?'
'Sir, I think he's outside, leading them marines.'
'He what?'
'Yep, I was one of the people who came here first and I checked the... um, engines, when I hear him on the emergency speakers of the ship, telling every man who could wear a pressurized power suit get one and report outside in front of the hammerhead. And then he took them back to the field, I think.'
He was there! Paskirov felt proud with his fellow lieutenant's speed of thought and good decision. Hopefully, Anders would commend such an action. How they almost met, it was funny.
'Is there anybody on the bridge now, kid?' He asked.
'I don't know, sir.'
'Fine,' he paused for a while. Things were developing within the limit of acceptability. However, the engineer's attitude was starting to vex him. He changed tone.
'WHY are you not at your station!'
The engineer turned pale and immediately stood up in a saluting position.
'Why are you wasting manhours!' Paskirov continued shouting.
'Sir, I don't know, sir!'
'Well, I know, mister - you are doing it because you are lazy! And we have no place for lazy scumbags in this fleet! Do you wanna stay on this planet?'
'Sir, no sir!'
'Well, it may sound as news to you, but I don't feel like hanging around here either! Guess what, worker: because of people like you who screw around we might as well do! What's your name and position, scumbag?'
'Sir, third class engineer Jack Ross, sir!'
'Well, Ross, I have an update for you - you better get your dirty ass right into the engine bay and make sure we can fly and propel ourselves while airborne, or I will teach you a lesson in screwing around, and when I do, you will be in a combat suit and there's going to be things exploding! Am I clear?' He was getting the hang of the drill seargant's attitude.
'Sir, yes, sir!'
'And don't think I do not have the authority to do so, Ross! In fact, when you are done in about ninety minutes, I will get a REAL engineer to see how you've performed! And when I do, you will want to prey it's all fine, because if I find out that you've been screwing around again, there WILL be consequences, dirtball! Do I make myself clear?'
'Sir, yes, sir!' The engineer was losing hope.
'Good! Now get moving!' Paskirov concluded and watched Ross leave. It was refreshing, he thought, to shout at one's subordinates. Maybe this is what kept drill seargants so energetic at such an old age.
Suddenly, something occurred to him. What if the doors of the repair bay did not look "alien" enough? What if their appearance did not imply Protoss touch? That would disbalance the scales of doubt and aim the focus of the admiral's suspicion from aliens to humans. Paskirov quickly ran to the repair bay, thinking how to make it look more weird.
The lock idea that Chester had had obviously worked, and there were two locks lying on the ground, open. Boris needed to think of something quickly. He took a towel from a nearby chair and grabbed them. He then looked at something to pour on them. There were several bottles of oil and who knew what, but he then decided not to, because it seemed too human. He looked around and saw an open panel in the wall with small wires visible. Some of their length passed through this section of the wall and so they could at least scorch the surface of the locks.
Boris took some instruments and stripped the copper interior of the locks. No important systems had their power supply that opened, common sense suggested, so Paskirov proceeded to keep the ends of the little wires close together so as to almost touch. He did it with great effort and clumsiness and after twenty minutes, the two locks had marks of burned that looked plausible enough to be alien.
He then calmly proceeded to the bridge and found the admiral had just arrived. The old man looked terrible: there were many stains of dirt on his uniform and even some grass and leaves. For a person who had just gotten his army back, he was surprisingly unhappy. Phry and another colonel were next to him, a bit more tidy.
'Are you alright, sir?' Summers asked.
'Yea, I'm fine! These men did a good job, the enemy got lucky and got close to me.'
'I'm glad my initiative helped, sir!' Summers exclaimed.
'Don't be too glad, kid. Alright, enough, is everybody accounted for?' Anders moved on.
'Many of our men have been injured, sir, but these ships have the needed men. Except for the Wanderer-class vessel Bloodhound, I'm afraid. Its crew took too may casualties,' the chief medic replied.
'Damn! Her boys are to move to the other ships, then. Phry, get it arranged. Paskirov, you get some engineers and explosives and rig her. I want it less than scrap in thirty minutes No Protoss ain't going to have any of MY Confederate ships to his disposal!'
Paskirov left for the job. When he was done, he reported to the bridge again, carrying a small radio transmitter with him. When he got the admiral's attention, he gave the tired old man the radio and said,
'They are waiting on you, sir.'
'Good,' Anders smiled and shouted in the radio, 'Nuke her, boys!'
'Through the panoramic windows of the bridge, everybody saw the Bloodhound in the distance bursting into flames and falling apart. The engineers had made sure there were almost no debris and Anders ordered the ships that are ready to take off to get out of here. The Vindicator was to turn back and fire on the remains of the Bloodhound for another fifteen minutes continuously. The admiral took Phry and the colonel with him and left, not telling where he was going. The officers who did not oversee the liftoff and the blasting of the Bloodhound were given time to rest and Boris decided to get some sleep.
After what seemed five minutes, he was awaken by a signal to report to the conference room.
In it, Anders stood both angry and tired, the only thing keeping him conscious seemed to the lieutenant to be his sheer grumpiness.
'Men, I have ill news. The sphere is gone,' he said when everybody had arrived.
There was a small wave of surprise and Paskirov and Summers tried to feign it.
'The damned Protoss have taken it! Curse them, they finally got their dirty alien paws on it!' the admiral was erupting in wrath.
'Do we know how they made it past the defenses, sir?' Summers asked with innocence.
'Hell no, but it must be some cowardly alien trickery they've got up their sleeves,' Anders replied in fury. 'Give me that Umojan boy and the chief engineer, they will know what happened. The rest of you - at ease. We're done with the Bloodhound now, we're moving out of the atmosphere and are preparing for a warp jump. Gentlemen, you did well, I'm proud of you - most of you - now get some rest.'
Everybody started leaving, but Summers was told to stay. Paskirov had a bad feeling about this, but he had to inform Chester about the latest developments in the situation. The Umojan was really sleepy.
'The admiral found out about the sphere. Now, he will want to talk to you and that guy MacMylor about what could have happened.'
'Oh, man, what am I going to do? I can barely stand upright, I am so tired I am doomed to make a Freudian slip or something,' Chester uttered in a tone of despair.
'Do you think MacMylor knows what a Freudian slip is, bud?' Paskirov inquired.
'No.'
'Good. Because I don't know either, and the chances for Anders to know are even smaller, so just go out there and try to keep your mouth as shut as possible,' Paskirov continued. 'Try to bemuse them with gobbledygook, you know: blind them with science. You have the technological superiority. What I am here for is to tell you that I burned the two locks' surfaces. Sort of scorched them to give them an unusual look. I thought they would appear alien-ish. Bear that in mind.'
'But I can barely bear myself on my two legs...' Chester complained.
'Yea, I thought so. Try to think of it as the culmination of yet another long night of studying, sort of the exam in the morning,' Boris saw a bitter smile on his friend's face, 'Or whatever you did back in Umoja. Good luck!'
'The scientist murmured something in response, but Boris did not bother hearing. He just walked back to his cabin, trying to check if any other issue needed immediate solution, dropped on the bed after the long day and let go to sleep.