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Join date : 2009-11-01
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The Recruitment [Starcraft Fanfic] Empty The Recruitment [Starcraft Fanfic]

Tue Nov 23, 2010 1:10 am
Chapter One

23rd Squadron, 519 Infantry Regiment
1st Dominion Frontier Battalion

Major Randal Wells

It all started when Lt. Colonel Anders entered my field office at my first day as a major. The war against the Confederacy was over, and I was able to land a desk job; nice and cozy.

“Congratulations on your promotions, Randal,” he said to me. “You very well deserve it I do declare.”

“Thank you sir,” I replied. “But I couldn’t have done it without your guidance.”

To think, when I joined the Sons of Korhal, I was just a mere private. Fighting our way from Antiga Prime through New Gettysburg, I battled my way up to an officer’s commission. Some may reckon that too many dead captains and lieutenants before me was the reason as to why I was promoted. But if you’ve seen what I have been through, you’d disagree.

Life was simply great afterwards. The Confederacy was overthrown and our hero, Mengsk, was named Emperor of the new Terran Dominion. Once we got settled down, everything was eased again. Terrans were no longer fighting each other, but against greater alien threats. However, that all changed when Anders had much more to tell me than “congratulations.”

“I am being transferred to a new outfit,” said Anders. “I get my very own regiment, and we would be put into action as soon as possible.”

“What? Transferred?” I said. “You know things are going to be a lot different on my side if you aren’t around.”

“I know,” replied Anders. “That’s why I’m filing for your transfer as well.”

“I’d follow you into a black hole if I had the chance.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ll remind you the next time I do so,” he chuckled. “Anyways, I might have to warn you. There is some kind of a…a catch. And this catch is pretty much the main reason as to why no one has signed up with me yet.” Colonel Anders hesitated before he found a more appropriate approach to spill it out. “We’re going to have to handpick every single soldier in the regiment; from frontline grunt to army chef. Well, not we. You.”

“What th-? That’s…impossible!” I said.

Perhaps Colonel Anders forgot how to implement a draft.

“Mind if I ask why, sir?”

“Simple. We are going to be tasked with a special mission that requires specialized and loyalist soldiers,” he responded. “Emphasis on the loyalty...You know very damn well that Mengsk ain’t going to force a bunch of converted Confederate Marines to do his personal biddings. But don’t you worry. I’m going to do my sales pitch to Major Hamilton at Divisional HQ. If he signs on aboard, you’ll only have to half the work.”

“But that’s still battalion size!” I exclaimed. “You think I can personally recruit a thousand plus soldiers?”

“I know so,” Anders concluded. “You got two months to find them, two months to train them, and one month of travel. Welcome aboard.”

“Travel? Where are we traveling to?” I asked.

“The Frontier. We’re going to chase down the Confederate Remnant.”

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