Starcraft fanfic: The Last Nuke

On Maltair IV, a lush green world at the outskirts of Korhal, several zerg remained on the fringe planet after Kerrigan’s onslaught in 2500.

They were forgotten and became feral. Forever wandering particularly close to the extracting pockets of vespene gas.

Although only two documented survivors, namely Senator Corbin Phash and his son, barely escaped the planet through secret passageways, there was one more group hidden in cryostasis.

At the secret underground base SS546ZE3, five marines and a ghost agent slumbered through the events unfolding in the Koprulu sector.

One day, the planet witnessed a massive thunderstorm. Several thunder strikes hit the massive native giant trees of Maltair IV. Through flames and electrical discharges, the idle adjutant in SS546ZE3 became erratically active and, through an error, initiated the sequence to awaken the dormant team from stasis.

One by one, each of the five marines came to consciousness, but the ghost agent remained dormant.

The marines emerged from their stasis, opening the cold glass hatches almost simultaneously. Two of the marines went straight up to dress themselves in uniform with robotic discipline. No questions asked, emotionless. The bulkiest marine, Feyorn, instead of dressing up, gazed throughout the surroundings of the abandoned base in his underwear, and said with his croaky voice while scratching his belly:

“Damn, I was close to hitting a home run.”

The marine closest to Feyorn’s cryocell, Terry, replied in a high-pitched voice:

“That’s just the effects of blood pumping back after cryogenic stasis.”

Feyorn gave him a condescending look while Terry proceeded to look for his uniform and glasses in the personal belongings boxes placed near their cryocells.

“Well, don’t you worry about my pumping boy. The world better be prepared for the chaos I’m bout to unleash,” - Feyorn grumbled while smirking and staring at Terry, who was dressing himself. A shiny insignia caught Feyorn’s attention. He didn’t recognize Terry’s unit type.

“Say, aren’t you a bit skinny and nerdy for a marine?” Feyorn inquired with a suspicious tone.

Before Terry could answer, a female voice emerged from the least lighted area of the underground base, penetrating the dim lights that flickered and barely functioned:

“I don’t think the world has much to fear”. The woman remarked. Everyone turned around to face her. The woman stared at Feyorn and looked down at his crotch, raising an eyebrow.

Feyorn, slightly embarrassed, clutched his hands above his underwear, stared at the woman, and shouted aggressively:

“Just wait till it gets warm here, darling. Who the hell are you, by the way, and what’s that adjutant doing with the climate control?”

The woman stopped her gaze and turned around to her personal belongings box. She began to dress herself teasingly and slowly, and said proudly:

“I’m Jane, a marine”. “The adjutant seems to be defective.”

Feyorn and Terry exchanged glances, and in the background, the other two marines did the same. Except Terry, everyone else was slightly smirking and turned around again to enjoy the view.

Jane was fit and had a small stature. The way she dressed herself, flirtatiously, eased everyone around, while Terry seemed a bit annoyed but at ease nonetheless for other reasons. Once she put on her uniform, Feyorn noticed an insignia on her chest similar to the one worn by Terry, which rushed his thoughts again, and not in the same way as when she was dressing:

“A female marine?” He thought to himself. He heard of women acting as ghosts, pilots, and medics on the front lines, but never as marines. Something didn’t add up again. His mind was swarming with conflicting memories and feelings. And he started to pant while looking at her intensely.

“What are you staring at, big boy?” Jane remarked. Go check the colonel.”

“Colonel?” Feyorn asked with a breathy voice as his body still struggled to adapt to the forced wake-up from stasis.

“What, did your wet dreams fry your brain? The team leader. The ghost agent behind you,” Jane pointed out as she pulled her pants up.

All four marines turned around and saw that a man was still in cryo stasis. Unlike many of them, he was extremely athletic, had many scars, and his stasis cell had not opened yet.

He had a distressed look upon his face, and his aura emanated might and resilience.

Terry, the nerdy marine, approached the cold stasis cell and examined its status. A control monitor attached to it showcased the vital signs. Everything looked in order, with a slightly elevated level of increased neural activity, especially the alpha waves.

Although this was typical of ghosts, showing elevated levels even in stasis indicated that this wasn’t a regular ghost agent. But something more. Much more…

As other monitors and systems came online erratically due to the storm outside, an alarm buzzed, echoing through the cold chambers of the underground base. It was the zerg…