Jean woke up and found herself staring into a white ceiling. She immediately sat up and reached down onto her belt, where her pistol should be. She reached nothing.
“Don’t move.” She turned her head and found a woman in a white suit walking in. She recognized that woman. In fact, she talked with her just a while ago. It was the leader of the Agria colony, Dr. Hanson. For a moment she wondered why Dr. Hanson was here before remembering she was, indeed, a doctor. The last thing she knew, she was wounded and was unconscious.
Well, she was alive and, likely, on The Hyperion, so the Raiders retreated back to the ship after she passed out and the Agria mission was generally speaking a success. They lost a lot of men, but at least they got the one thousand or so colonists out.
“What happened?” She asked softly. Looking down, she realized why she didn’t reach her pistol. Her lieutenant clothing was changed to a white patient’s suit.
“After you fainted, medics in the field treated your wound and kept you alive long enough to get back to the ship to be treated by more advanced gadgets.”
“How’s my wound?” Jean asked, attempting to stretch her body.
“You’ll be fine,” Hanson explained. “Nanobots fixed your wound and your damaged intestines, but I suggest you take some rest. You lost a lot of blood.”
Jean’s nodded. The terran technology may not be as advanced as that of the protoss, but it had something unique. The healing technique, for example, was one of the things that allowed the terran to stand against protoss and zerg enemies. The nanobots of medics and medivacs could effectively heal injured soldiers to full health in a short amount of time. As long as the patient wasn’t killed instantly, they could be restored. Even if a limb was lost, it could be grown back with sufficient time and the necessary equipment. This greatly improved the sustainability of terran biological units.
As she thought, Hanson handed her a fresh lieutenant uniform. “What’s the current situation.” Jean asked while changing her patient clothes to the new military ones.
“Most of the colonists are aboard the ship, but the Raiders lost a lot of men.” Hanson paused slightly, sounding guilty. Most of the Raiders died saving the colonists. “We are now in neutral airspace. Jim, Jim is not acting right. He locked himself in his room and hasn’t came out since Agria.”
Pulling on the pants, Jean processed the news. She had a guess of why Raynor was so depressed. After all, his one order claimed the lives of countless Raiders. Whether or not the order was the right one was debatable, but either way as the commander Raynor was responsible for the death of his men. A usual Dominion officer wouldn’t suffer the same problem as most of the officers tend to grow merciless to their men and treat them as nothing but numbers, but Raynor was a good man. Good men usually don’t make good commanders.
Raynor was experienced with war, and this wasn’t the first time he lost someone in the field. Theoretically speaking, he should’ve learned to manage his own feeling by now, but judging from what she heard, he was still affected.
Now in the uniform, Jean thanked the doctor and walked out of the room.
As for now, she needed Raynor to keep being the commander he was. Jean wasn’t afraid to admit she was inexperienced in the art of war. Sure, she had knowledge about what would happen in the future, was extremely calm, and could come up with some cute plans, but she would need much more than those to defeat the dark god.
Raynor, as long as he was alive, would be a useful asset. First of all, he was famous. Most of the people think of Raynor when they think about going against the Terran Dominion or about fighting for freedom. There was a reason why Mengsk made Raynor the public enemy instead of just try to make the public forget about him: He was too famous to be ignored. If Raynor was dead...the Raiders would lose their source of reinforcements. No one knew who Matt Horner or Jean Turner was.
Second, Raynor had connections.
He knew mercenary recruiter Graven Hill, who opened up opportunities for hiring mercenary squads. These elite units were nowhere to be seen for now due to the Raider’s financial problem, but as long as money was in place, Raynor could immediately find himself with an army of soldiers elite enough to go head to head with Mengsk’s best men.
He knew Tychus Findlay, who had connections to the Moebius Foundation and therefore a source of income. With Tychus present, the Raiders could constantly both get information about xel’naga artifacts and get paid by the Moebius Foundation.
He knew Matt Horner, who was a great commander and also had connection with mercenary leader Mira Han. If he really needed to, just the man himself could pull out an army out of his hat. Of course, the price was going to be great, but connections were connections. Mira’s Marauders were one of the most infamous mercenary forces in Deadman’s Port, and just potential access to them might be important someday.
He also knew Egon Stetmann and Rory Swann. Both were brilliant scientists who joined the Raiders mainly because of Raynor.
If Raynor was suddenly shaken by what he saw on Agria and decided to leave the Raiders, then the small team would immediately fall apart. Jean would, once again, find herself alone and helpless. Without an army to command, just a single marine could kill her. Even if the current Raiders stayed with her, she would still be stuck in an awkward spot.
Bottom line, Jean needed to get Raynor back on his feet.
----------------------------------------
Jean reached Raynor’s chamber and stopped to knock. She waited for a few seconds before hearing Raynor answering her.
“Come in.”
Jean walked in. The smell of alcohol filled the room. She could see a few emptied bottles on the ground. The man has not been hesitant to drown his sorrow with drinks.
That was not a good sign.
“Sir.” She said quietly.
“Jean? How’s your back?” The man turned around slightly and saw who it was before turning back to the table he was facing. As Raynor spoke, Jean realized he was more than drunk. His words were slow and rolled.
“Sir? Are you ok?”
Raynor didn’t answer. Instead, he merely rubbed his fingers on something he was holding in his right hand. Suddenly, he tossed the item to Jean. The girl caught it.
It was a shiny orange name tag with the name and rank of the soldier the tag belonged to. Jean glanced at the content.
Daniel Harrison. Sergeant.
Jean rose her eyebrows at the large man before her.
“Dan has been my brother since Mar’Sara. He was a corporal in the Confederate militia when I was the marshal in command. We took out a zerg infestation together, but we destroyed an infested Confederacy base in the process. The Confederate scum didn’t care what we had to say before they arrested us. All of us. We went to prison together, and together we broke out of the Confederate prison and were saved by the Sons of Korhal. When I saw who Mengsk truly was and defected, he was one of the few men that stayed with me.” His gaze faded into a distance as he remembered every second he spent with the man. “He was one of the few brothers I had left since the very beginning...”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“...and now he’s dead.”
“He survived Mar’Sara. He survived Char. He survived the UED. He didn’t survive a tiny farming planet called Agria.”
Jean looked down on the floor and remained silent. She acted like she was sad even though inside she was searching for a way to cheer Raynor up.
The two remained silent for ten seconds as Raynor took another sip of the drink. Jean finally spoke.
“I don’t know much about Sergeant Daniel, but what I do know is that he willingly gave his life for you. He saw hope in you, and so did I, as well as everyone on this ship. We weren’t forced onto this ship. We chose to come on this ship because we believed in what you stand for. We believed in freedom and justice.” She paused to let her words sink in.
“Don’t let the dead die in vain.”
Raynor looked at Jean with reddened eyes. Jean stared back calmly. A few seconds later Raynor finally smiled and grabbed a bottle of bear. Instead of drinking from it, he suddenly poured the alcohol onto his face. The cold liquid brought chills to his skin but also made his mind clearer.
“You’re right, Jean.”
----------------------------------------
The two met again at the bridge, only this time this was a full scale meeting. Every important person on the ship, from Horner to Swann to Hanson, was present. Even Tychus was standing at the side. They were discussing the future of the Raiders.
“Dr. Hanson, what is the situation with your people?” For now, the survivors of the Agria colonists were aboard the Raider ship. The Hyperion could hold thousands, but keeping the colonists on wasn’t a permanent solution. The Hyperion barely had the resources, mainly the food, to maintain the entire colony. They needed to find a place to settle down.
“I have located a refugee staging area called Meinhoff. It’s away from the chaos in the sector and under Dominion control. If we can get my people there, they should be safe.” Hanson came prepared. She had already researched about potential places her people could go before the meeting.
Raynor nodded. “We are criminals and the Dominion will jump on us first chance they get, but the transports you came here in have warp drives to take your people to Meinhoff.”
Hanson nodded and suddenly remembered something. “Jim, some of my people want to join you.”
The Raiders’ selfless action on Agria impressed a lot of people they saved. The militias were the prime victim of this gratefulness. Some of the militias were older men who had families to take care of in the colony. These men were more experienced in life and, as much as they thanked the Raiders, weren’t willing to leave their families behind to die for a noble yet almost impossible cause.
Another part of the militias consisted of young men and women. They were relatively hot headed and were less considerate of the consequences of their actions. Less experienced in life and thus more vulnerable to outside beliefs, they were attracted to the Raiders’ cause like moths attracted to a campfire. They might get burned as they go after their goal, but as for now they could make loyal soldiers.
They were the men that asked to join the Raiders.
Raynor was surprised, but he nonetheless nodded. “It’s always good to have additional men joining us. Speaking of men,” He turned to Horner. “what are our losses on Agria?”
No one wanted to listen to the losses report, but it was a necessary part of war.
“240 soldiers were deployed to Agria. We lost 54 men.” The cold numbers could barely cover the brutalness of the battle. Usually speaking, psychic networks and mind controls aside, an army would collapse when the casualty rate reached ten percent of the total army count. This number seemed insignificant, but on the battlefield when bullets were flying and men were dying, moral burned faster than a match dropped into a lake. The fact that the Raiders reached 22.5% casualty rate and were still fighting was proof that freedom was a powerful weapon.
The men and women in the bridge went dead silent.
“The casualty is not the worst problem.” Jean broke the silence. When Raynor was trying to make himself sober, she took the time to examine the data of the Raiders, and she realized a critical mistake.
“We have emptied our arsenal while fighting the zerg. Eighty percent of the gauss ammunitions have been used up. Half of the firebat fuel and marauder grenades were gone.” She spoke the cold truth. “We can no longer afford to fight another lasting battle. We can start a fight, but if that fight lasts for more than ten minutes, our marines will be meleeing zerglings and hydralisks.” Needless to say, that was not going to be a pretty sight.
Raynor frowned. He had no idea the situation was this bad. Another proof Raynor was an experienced yet bad commander. “I thought we harvested minerals from Agria.”
“They were in the command center. We dropped the command center on the zerg.” Jean explained.
Raynor groaned. “You’re right. We need money.”
Beside him, Tychus, who was still smoking, suddenly paused as he heard the magical word. “I know the Moebius Foundation. They’re a group of generous bastards.” He said, attracting the look of everyone in the bridge. Slightly pleased by the sudden attention he received, Tychus took another smoke of his cigarette, ignored the threatening glare Horner gave him, and continued.
“They are after an alien artifact, and they are willing to pay big money for it. It just so happens that I know one of these artifacts is on a planet called Monlyth. It’s guarded by a group of protoss fanatics, but they can be dealt with. If you want money, Jimmy...”
“We don’t have the forces to take on an army of protoss.” Jean interrupted the beautiful picture Tychus painted. The large man glared at her, annoyed.
“Jean’s right. Without enough ammunition, we can’t win against the protoss.”
Raynor fought both with and against the protoss before. The image of protoss warriors, durable, fearless, and experienced, made a deep impression in his mind. Protoss were much stronger than zerg and terran in terms of individual combat ability. A single zealot, the lowest protoss rank and equivalent to a terran marine and a zerg zergling, could massacre a squad of marines and marauders without taking a single wound. Terran weapons would be deflected by protoss plasma shields while protoss psi blades could cut through terran armor like an army knife through hot butter. Raynor wasn’t too scared to fight the protoss, but he would be damn careful before engaging.
Unlike Raynor, Tychus had no idea how powerful the protoss really were. He had been arrested before the protoss showed up, and everything he knew about these aliens came from files, which were hardly enough to portray their skills in the field.
“Well, it’s your call.” Tychus backed off after sending Jean another glare. He was a criminal, not a commander. Thinking was too complicated for someone like him. All he needed to do was let Raynor do the thinking and do what Raynor told him to do.
The leaders of the Raiders stood there in complete silence, draining their brains to find a way for more money. They were stuck in a circle. In order to earn money, they needed to do missions. However, they didn’t have the ammunition to do missions, which meant they needed money to buy ammunition, and they didn’t have the money…
Jean went through the memory in her head. The Supreme One sent her everything that has happened and would happen in the future in this universe. She knew things that, if she had an army, she could abuse. Unfortunately, she was stuck in a small rebel team that had just a single battlecruiser and a couple hundred infantry units that were almost out of bullets.
Suddenly, the main computer in the bridge started beeping. Horner frowned and tapped a few keys on the computer, and a video popped up on the screen.
It was a man with dark skin. His hair was tied into countless small strands that reminded Jean of Medusa in Greek mythology. His eyes were blue. Jean sensed a dangerous feeling from him. She felt like he was a beast that was ready to fight and kill anytime, anywhere, and anyone.
“I hear the mighty Jim Raynor is on the move, but short on funds. The planet Redstone’s got the most valuable minerals around, and with the zerg invasion, the Kel-Morians packed up and left it all behind. It’s supposed to be a secret, but unfortunately for the Kel-Morians, they met the wrong pirate. Some enterprising men could turn a big profit there. Meet me at Redstone if you want a piece of the action. Here are the coordinates.” A series of numbers appeared on the screen. Jean copied them down.
“What do you need us to do?” Raynor frowned. This was too good of a deal. From what the man, Tosh, said, all the Raiders needed to do was bring a few SCVs and they could just get rich minerals for free. Why would he do that? SCV for hire could be found anywhere in Deadman’s port, and pretty much in every mercenary bar in the sector. If Tosh had information about Redstone, why didn’t he just hire some SCVs himself and went to Redstone to mine? Individual SCVs were much cheaper than Raynor’s Raiders.
There was no response.
“Hey? Can you hear me?” Raynor repeated. “Hey?”
The bridge went silent for a minute before Jean finally spoke.
“Ahh, sir?”
“Yes?”
“This is a recording, not a transmission.”
Raynor turned and looked at Horner and Hanson, whose faces were turning red as they tried to stop themselves from bursting off into laughers.
The rebel commander shrugged as laughers covered the bridge.