"Our governor is a cowardly, self-indulgent man. The moment he heard rumors of rebel activity on Mar Sara, he panicked and fled from his social club back to the governor's mansion," Augustus said to Kerrigan. "All we need to do is scare him a little—he'll show his true colors right away."
"Understood." Kerrigan didn't bother asking why Augustus wanted to do this—not because of any unspoken understanding developed over nearly a year of working together, but simply because Augustus never made an effort to conceal his intentions.
As Kerrigan stepped out of the magistrate's office to deliver Augustus's orders to the chief of staff at the revolutionary army's command post located in another sheriff's office, Augustus placed a call to Jim Raynor's personal terminal.
"Jimmy? Pull up your pants and get to my office—now. And for God's sake, make sure you're using protection. I don't think Elizabeth is ready for motherhood just yet." Augustus shifted position and adjusted his grip on the receiver.
"And bring Tychus with you. You know where he usually hangs out."
Only after finishing the call did Augustus set down the phone and pick up a draft of his latest notice—an advisory warning town residents to avoid unnecessary travel during the rainy season—and slipped it into a document pouch for filing.
Just then, Kerrigan reentered the room, still in her khaki police uniform. She disliked wearing heels and instead wore a pair of leather boots that clicked loudly on the wooden floor.
"Your orders have been relayed to the revolutionary army's general staff at the encampment. They'll submit a detailed plan to you within one standard Mar Sara day."
"Good." Augustus gave a slight nod and said nothing more, turning instead to gaze silently out the window at the rainstorm—thunder crashing, lightning flickering in the sky.
"Any updates from Umoja or those six colonial fleets?" he asked after a few moments, still staring not at Kerrigan, but at the two photo frames on his desk. One held a group photo of the Heaven's Devils squad. The other was a portrait of the Mengsk family, including their butler.
The dozen or so colonial fleets that had escaped from the Korhal system had since been reorganized into five massive armadas, each departing in a different direction with Korhal as the origin point. Every fleet carried over 2 million people—some as many as 3.5 million—and were led respectively by senior commanders of the former Heaven's Devils: Max Zander, Connor Ward, Amy Brandon, Ilya Kulovsky, and Ryk Kydd.
These colonial fleets were traveling through the cosmos at faster-than-light speeds. All personnel—except the navigators—had entered cryogenic hibernation. It might take years, even decades, before they discovered habitable planets. Until then, the settlers would have to face the perils of an unknown and hostile universe.
Currently, the fleet closest to Mar Sara was that of Ryk Kydd. Unlike the others, this revolutionary commander had not entered hibernation, choosing instead to remain awake at all times, transmitting a location signal to Umoja once every three months.
"Four of the fleets are currently navigating the middle zone between Korhal and the edge of the Koprulu Sector. One of them is about to exit the sector entirely," Kerrigan replied.
"As for Umoja, two weeks ago, the Confederacy's Gamma Squadron and Sigma Squadron clashed several times with the Umoja Homeland Defense Fleet along the Umojan United Republic's border. Each side claims to have come out on top—no definitive winner yet."
"What's the real situation? We should be able to get information that's closer to the truth."
A sense of urgency welled up in Augustus's chest—his family, along with over 20 million Korhalans, were still on Umoja.
"The truth is, the Umojan Defense Forces haven't held the upper hand," Kerrigan replied. "The Confederacy fleet lingered inside Umojan territory for a full two weeks before it was finally repelled. The naval performance of the Defense Forces has been called into question by Parliament—but the public knows nothing of this. They still believe their military won a decisive victory."
"If the Confederate fleet were to launch a full-on assault, Umoja wouldn't be able to hold out," Augustus said, a series of imagined battle scenes between the Terran Confederacy and Umoja flashing through his mind. "But if they think they can swallow Umoja whole in one bite, they're dreaming. Conquering Umoja completely will take years. And with the Kel-Morian Combine unwilling to concede defeat and local rebels still active, the Confederate Parliament doesn't dare risk an all-out war—at least not yet."
"We've been resting too long. It's time to make some noise."
After more than six months of regrouping, Augustus's fleet had fully recovered its combat strength. Now was the moment to reawaken the nerves of the Terran government, which had begun to relax.
"Make the Confederate Navy move. Once they're spread too thin chasing shadows, that's when we'll strike them one by one with concentrated force."
If open war did break out between Umoja and the Terran Confederacy, the revolutionaries would likely lose their most powerful backer. Worse still, the crystals he and Arcturus had stockpiled would have nowhere to be sold.
Just then, the door swung open. Jim Raynor and Tychus Findlay walked in, both wearing waterproof cloaks. As soon as they stepped through, Augustus could already hear Tychus grumbling under his breath: "What the hell's going on? I'd like to know what was so urgent that ol' Tychus had to dismount halfway through a very good time."
"Going to war with the Confederates?" Raynor asked bluntly—he knew Augustus all too well.
"Jimmy's right." Augustus shot a glance at Tychus. "Findlay, no one cares how much time you've wasted on those dolled-up girls."
"Next time, you better give me a heads-up," Tychus replied, swallowing his irritation. "I had all kinds of fun planned tonight—and now it's all gone to waste."
"Save it for next time," Augustus cut him off, knowing full well the man could grumble for half an hour if left unchecked.
Then he turned to Raynor. "Jimmy, I'm transferring you to Lorenza State. You'll be taking command of the forces there—light gear only, take your Raiders with you. I've confirmed that the Mar Sara governor is about to order the Defense Force to start rounding up our comrades. I want you to crush them."
"Similar sweeps will be launched in Hinterland and other regions where we've gained the upper hand. A well-coordinated, full-scale crackdown against us is just about to begin."
And how did Augustus know all this?
Because, as the local chief magistrate, he had access to privileged information ahead of time. He had also built a close personal rapport with the governor of Hinterland by catering to his interests—and more importantly, his intelligence agents and surveillance network had been closely monitoring Mar Sara's outdated and poorly secured communications grid.
"Dealing with those militia forces shouldn't be too difficult," said Raynor, hesitating for only a fraction of a second.
"You reluctant to leave your girlfriend?" Augustus asked with a faint smile.
"I am," Raynor admitted without evasion. "Sounds like I'll be away from Hinterland for a while."
He never beat around the bush with Augustus—he was always direct and honest with him.
"I understand." Augustus nodded at Raynor and then activated the wooden holoprojector on his desk. A map flared to life before them, vertically suspended in midair, woven from dancing threads of multicolored light.
The background was a mix of red and yellow hues—this was a map of the southern hemisphere of Mar Sara, where two-thirds of the planet's population resided. Mar Sara had no true oceans to speak of; instead, its landscape was dotted with vast dust seas resembling oversized lakebeds. As a result, land dominated the planet's surface area.
But despite all that land, habitable and arable regions were remarkably scarce. On the map, only Hinterland and a few neighboring states showed any trace of green, while the capital district retained a more noticeable layer of vegetation. Yet even these small green patches were enveloped by vast swaths of yellow desert. Though the inhabitable zones were sizable, their populations were spread thin—scattered among isolated towns separated by long distances.
"In the Hinterland region, we already have over 3,000 party members," Augustus explained, expanding the map across his desk and pointing at the fan-shaped territory of the Hinterland Autonomous Region. "They're distributed throughout the various towns and cities. And the local Planetary Defense Force and militia combined wouldn't even match the strength of a fully organized battalion. Over half of them are drawn from Echo Town's Civil Defense Force."
On the map, Hinterland State, New Columbia State, Lorenza State, and the capital district formed a loosely connected, highly irregular polygon. The first two states were already marked in red—indicating that they had effectively fallen under the control of the revolutionaries. Lorenza, meanwhile, was shifting from green to red, while the capital district showed scattered red blotches—signifying revolutionary strongholds embedded within.
Mar Sara wasn't a completely barren world. Certain regions contained small oases and a fair amount of arable green land. Several underground river systems sustained millions of Mar Sarans and the native flora and fauna. At higher latitudes, there were tundras and sparse grasslands, and the planetary poles still retained glaciers.
"The situation in New Columbia is more or less the same as in Hinterland," Augustus continued. "Although we haven't taken over the local police stations or government offices, we've established three mining zones there. Each of those mines could rally a regiment's worth of revolutionary troops. We've got the upper hand militarily in those areas."
"So, which state am I in charge of?" Tychus asked, eyeing Augustus thoughtfully. "To be honest, I'm getting sick of the painted ladies around here in Echo Town. Maybe the ones in other places—"
"You're staying with me," Augustus cut him off. "I need you on the frontlines."
"Those militia brats on Mar Sara who haven't even seen bloodshed? They're no match for us. My men have stared death in the face—we've fought the fiercest elite troops the Terran Confederacy could throw at us."
Tychus puffed up proudly. "You can't do this without me, Mengsk."
"Honestly, I don't know how you'd survive without me."
"You're right. I'd be lost without you," Augustus replied with a chuckle, indulging in the banter. As long as Tychus wasn't causing any trouble, he saw no need to play the hard-ass.
"But," Tychus's tone suddenly turned serious, "while the militia might be no match for us, once I crush them, the next wave will be Marines. Mar Sara doesn't have any stationed Marine divisions, so the Confederacy will definitely dispatch a fleet."
"And then what?" he asked.
"That's exactly the outcome I'm hoping for," Augustus said coolly. "Once they arrive, we'll ambush them in Mar Sara's synchronous orbit. The Siege of Tarsonis is still fresh in the minds of the Tarsonis aristocracy—they won't dare throw in their entire fleet like they did against Korhal."
"I hope it's Duke that slimy bastard they send," Tychus growled, just as the torrential downpour outside began to subside. "This time, I'm gonna kick his ass so hard he won't sit for a month."
"Let's give them hell."
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