Lot of reasonable criticisms have been made about this story, especially the front half. So I edited the front of things a bit, hope that's understandable. This may not be to everyone's tastes, but I just wanted to write something...so I did. *shrug*.
91 – Dust Devils
"Keep firing, keep firing!"
"Fuck off, Mengsk lovers!"
Corey Whitman had barely managed to scream out his own war cry before he was forced to duck beneath a blast of concentrated fire. Even the closeness of it was enough to set his salvaged suit of elderly armor to blaring. Around him, the rest of the rebels clustered as best as they could behind cover made up of parked vehicles and hastily assembled barricades. On the opposite side, he knew, there were over twenty Dominion marines in top shelf CMC firing at them, ensuring that none of them could properly pop up and fire back. But things weren't so bad until the damned hellion drove up on them. Corey had watched three of his drinking buddies scream as they were roasted alive, but every time someone tried to fire back they found the same thing nearly happening to them.
Then another of his friends slammed into the dirt next to him, blue and grey armor still smoking around the edges.
"Corey, what the hell are we gonna do! This ain't like Backwater, man! They got way more guys!" Blakely yelled over the din of too many rifles firing. "Where the hell did Raynor go! He just up and left us for the Dominion to stomp down!"
Corey, for all that he was bleeding from a shot in the arm and trapped in a holdout that would likely result in his death, rolled his eyes. Blakely always was a bit of a coward. Still, he'd picked up arms just like the rest of them, so he had that going for him.
"Okay man, I need you to listen to me," Corey reached over and clamped a metal hand onto Blakely's shoulder. "Raynor armed us up, helped us steal a whole butt load of Dominion tech outta Backwater, but he can't just up and fight every battle for us. You understand? We all knew the risks when we decided to pull this."
There was another blast of flame at one of the other barricades, another rebel screaming for someone else to put the fires out before he collapsed on the ground unmoving. Some of their medics were already moving to pull him back and see if he could be saved, but Corey wasn't feeling charitable at the moment. Blakely just huddled down, hands coming over his head, his rifle left on the ground. Corey just rolled his eyes again as he picked it up, checking its ammo. Clucking his tongue in disgust, he let the fully loaded and apparently never fired gun drop back onto Blakely's head. How the man was bending CMC into fetal position he didn't know, and if it weren't such a dire situation he might even find it impressive.
"We didn't need the Confederates out here, and we sure as hell didn't need the Dominion taking our people out of their homes and slaughtering us for
fun! Now pick up your damn gun and get to firing!"
Which was, as it turned out, around when there was a high pitched whining noise that was followed by a series of explosions. The fire from the Dominion fell off almost immediately, while the sound of a hellion's blasting fire could be heard again and again. Corey blinked before rising up over cover, rifle at the ready, only to find the bloody chunked remains of those who had been in danger of overrunning the camp. The hellion had been completely overturned and crumpled at the middle, while only a few of the Dominion marines appeared to be intact at all. Corey blinked, and then prepared to fire again as some of them showed signs of trying to get to their feet. Before he could pull the trigger, however, there was another whizzing click and boom which destroyed even those few poor sons of bitches.
"What the hell is going on?" Blakely suddenly asked from next to him, making Corey jump slightly.
"Fuckin' A, Bricks," Corey snapped, "Don't do that to me."
"Don't call me Bricks," Blakely whined, "You know I hate that name."
Of course he did. Anyone who whose nickname referenced the phrase 'shitting bricks' would hate it. And yet, to Blakely's consternation, it had stuck. Mostly because the scaredy cat had really done it the first time they'd done live firing exercises. The sight of a full suit of CMC armor awkwardly shuffling away to the latrine had been hilarious.
"Hey!" a new voice called out, making Corey snap his gun up again as he watched shimmering bubble fizzle into visibility before fading.
Inside of said bubble, revealed to the world, was the biggest custom vulture he'd ever seen. Riding atop it was someone wearing something that looked half again as big as his own set of armor, but the gun on her back was plenty big itself. Corey, personally, was more focused on the slowly rotating ball turrets towards the back and the fact that he could tell the guns beneath that were only just beginning to spin down. But before he could say anything, Blakely beat him to it.
"Who the hell are you?!" His compatriot screeched in a shrill tone, his rifle wobbling at her.
Instincts ingrained in many of the rebels activated, causing several others to raise their weapons as well.
"Well," she shrugged, seemingly completely unaffected by the threat of twelve Mar Saran rifles pointed at her. "I'm Yuriko. For the moment, I'm with Raynor's Raiders. Came to make sure you all were okay."
"Oh thank god," Blakely sighed as he sagged against the barricade. "Oh sweet baby Jesus, thank you."
Amongst the rest of the rebels, the information obviously had a ripple effect of reactions similar to the one Blakely had. Corey, for his part, remained skeptical.
"Raynor sent you out here to help us?" Corey asked, his head tilting slightly. "We ain't heard him on the radio or nothin'."
Of course, fate chose that moment to make an ass out of him. As it often did.
"Hey! Corey, you still alive out there?" The radio crackled in his ear with the familiar voice of Big Ben, the leader of their little rebellion.
Corey sighed.
"Yeah Ben, I'm here," he responded, his tone a bit surlier than he intended.
Going by the way she cocked her head, he'd bet that that Yuriko woman could tell something was up. Damn it, that'd just be his luck.
Two women making fun of him.
"Don't you take that tone with me, mister," Big Ben said, her familiar twang coming through amidst the crackles of the radio, "I came all the way over to this here radio, to give you this here good news, after making sure that this here Smokestack would live after getting his fool ass run over by that there Dominion hellion, and-,"
"BB, c'mon," Corey interrupted, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. It's been a day."
He heard her suck air through her teeth before responding. At the same time, Corey felt a bead of sweat make its way down his face. The rest of the boys and girls were busy patting themselves on the back, sure as all hell that the Marshal was going to come save 'em all, but there was just something
other about that Yuriko woman…
"It's been a day for
all of us, Corey, shit, you think I
enjoy being a medic and having to patch up your fool asses?
Anyway, get this shit. Remember Marshal Raynor?"
"Damn it," Corey spat under his breath. "Now I look like an asshole."
"
Language, buster. The fuckin' Marshal himself is coming over to help us, has a shit ton of his boys with 'em. This rebellion just got goddamn mule kicked into fucking overdrive! Fuck yeah!"
The radio snapped off with a hissing click, leaving Corey to stare at the same woman who'd come rumbling out of nowhere to save them.
"Uh. Sorry about that," he reached up to tip the hat he couldn't wear while within the suit, pausing as he realized his mistake from force of habit. "Just…tryna be sure, you know?"
He couldn't see her face, but he did hear her chuckle.
"Don't worry about it. If anything, I applaud your caution. It'll serve you well in the future, I think. Anyway, Raynor is on his way here. I'd get prepped, if I were you."
The bubble reappeared around the vulture before it flickered out of visibility, the noise disappearing as it presumably drove off. Corey squinted, trying to see anything at all if possible before he got thumped in the side by Blakely's elbow.
"Didya hear that, Corey? Raynor's Raiders! They're coming to save us! Ain't that cool as shit?!"
Corey just sighed as he let the back of his head thump against the inside of his armor's helm.
========================================
Burning wreckage was strewn about the small canyon, a mixture made from multiple hellions thrown about by titanic forces, Dominion marines, and the base that had once been there. A barracks and a small factory had once been here, but there was little remaining of them either. The supply depots were left untouched, thankfully, and would hopefully provide some good materials once looted. Tychus, for his part, simply puffed happily on his cigar as he sat his keister atop one of said destroyed hellions. His rifle had been jammed into the dirt, though it had seen its fair share of action on the way forward. Jimmy, for his part, simply leaned against the wreck, watching as the Mar Saran rebels shouted and cheered. Someone, somewhere, had brought a few cases of beer up. Others simply shot into the bodies or into the air.
"Well, I'll give her this, old buddy," Tychus whistled, "She sure can tear it up."
"Yep," Jimmy nodded as he pulled a drag from his cigarette.
As for the ghost herself, she was busy speaking with some of the Mar Sarans, including the apparent rebel leader of this rag tag group. The rebel leader known as Big Ben was a massive woman, her dark skin turned even darker by soot and dust from long periods of mining under the Dominion's whip, her frame the result of harsh fringe living and a few bouts of steroid abuse in her youth. Apparently, according to what he'd been able to learn on the way over to the dig site, she'd killed her first Dominion oppressor with one of the giant two-handed drills at Backwater station, only she'd used it as a bludgeon. A tool that she kept close even after putting on CMC armor. The reasoning behind the name, on the other hand, was a mystery to him.
"Adjutant," he glanced over at the crane, "How is the decryption coming?"
"Complete, Commander," was the surprising reply.
"Well hell, payday came even earlier than I thought," Tychus chuckled as he hopped up and began ambling over towards the massive pit in the ground. "Sure was nice of the Dominion to do all the digging for us."
Already, the giant crane and pulley system was cranking upwards, robotic drones apparently shifting the payload upwards.
"They didn't," came a gruff voice from behind them. "They broke
our backs to get that damn fool hole dug."
Both men turned to find Big Ben, or BB for short according to the rebels, with Yuriko at her side. The former had her faceplate down, revealing her scowling and scarred face, while Yuriko's completely concealing helmet remained. The miner turned rebel hefted her drill over her shoulder, the white armor of her stolen Dominion medic suit already beginning to be turned brown and red by the blowing winds of Mar Sara. Her hard gaze stayed on Tychus for a moment before she turned to look at Jimmy, her expression softening significantly in the transition.
"Marshal Raynor," she offered a hand for him to shake. "Thanks for coming by. I don't know how long we would have lasted without you."
"I'm sure you would have had it," he chuckled as he shook her hand, "Mar Sara breeds tough folk. I should know, after all."
Tychus just rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, sure enough. But uh…hey, I gotta question for you," BB looked almost embarrassed, a look that sat uncomfortably on her face. "You take recruits, right? You ain't some all exclusive club? The Raiders I mean."
Jimmy blinked and look at her, then over to Yuriko, who he couldn't read a damn thing off of.
"Well, yeah. But…," Jimmy shook his head, his face pinched with old pain. "Ya'll got homes to get back to. When we're taking the fight to Mengsk, it's gonna take us to some far off places, and some good folk'll be dead before this is done."
In response, BB just spat to the side.
"Homes to get back to? The hell we do. Half of us are dead already from the mines, or getting shot while protesting," she sighed, voice growing quieter with aching grief and rage. "Ain't no living in a ghost town, Marshal. Dominion's been bleeding us for years, barely recovered after the Protoss," she growled before pointing at the hole that the crane was still pulling up from. "You know how many of us died digging that fuckin' hole?
Too many. Yuriko here says you're gonna put the screws to Mengsk. And we want in."
Jimmy whirled on Yuriko, but she simply shrugged at his accusing expression.
"Now…miss, I know the exact feeling you're talking about, but you gotta think about this."
BB's eyes grew cold.
"I got done thinking when I saw one of my boys get shot up for cracking a joke about Mengsk, about my husband dying next to me in those fuckin' mines. You gonna let us join up or not, Marshal?"
It was never easy. How was he supposed to say no? He needed the bodies, god knew he did. But how was he supposed to say yes? Most of those here would most likely die on some foreign world. The fight against Mengsk had never been without cost. And to be honest, at this point in his life, he was getting real tired of seeing younger folk full of fire and fury bleeding out in his arms. But they were asking…and hell if they hadn't already been in a fight and lost some of their own against the Dominion. Not to mention what he'd seen on the way to Backwater Station. Jimmy glanced down at the coffin nail in his hand before tossing it with a hard flick, instead raising his hand to shake hers.
"Welcome to the Raiders, BB."
The rebel miner turned medic slammed her hand into his, their armors clanking from the force of it.
"Hell yeah," she grunted.
Tychus whistling caught both of their attentions.
"Well I'll be," Jimmy murmured.
The artifact was…strange. Glowing blue and black stone that seemed to vibrate somehow even as it sat on its platform innocuously. For a second, Jimmy felt like there was an odd buzzing in his head when he glanced at it. But the Tychus spoke up again, and the strange buzzing was replaced with a far more familiar one.
"See? Look at that, Jimmy. You, me, some gunning and running…and now?" Tychus jerked his thumb at it. "Payday. Like old times."
