Infestation-Part Two

View Part One

Day Two

A loud blaring resounded throughout Wilson’s cabin. He awoke with a start, slamming his head on the ceiling. Cursing, Wilson remembered where he was and turned off the alarm on his desk. Rubbing his head, he got out of bed. He doubted that pounding his brain into a wall would help him negotiate with Administrator Hackken later that morning. Oh well, can’t be helped. He dressed and headed to the barracks showers. Refreshed, Wilson headed to the armory to get his squad ready to head out to relieve Almuda. His men were waiting for him.

“Morning, Sergeant,” said Hotchkins. “Have a rough night? You always beat us here.”

“Hit my head,” grunted Wilson. He wasn’t going to mention the discovery of two new hostile intelligent races. His troops were already too inclined to daydream and talk instead of watching the perimeter. “All right, suit up.”

Corporal Almuda walked in while Wilson’s team was being outfitted in their power armor. He waited by the exit until they were all suited. Wilson walked over to see what he wanted. Almuda gave a smart salute.

“Anything to report?” asked Wilson.

“Nothing found on patrol, Sir! However, the SCV that was supposed to report back last night did not return. We tried to radio him, but the dust limits the range. Not sure if he found something or not.”

“Bah,” said Wilson. “The civilians never learn how to pilot those SCVs correctly. He probably got it stuck in a ditch or drove it off a cliff, happens every once in a while. I can guarantee that it’s not because he found something. Our prospectors are never late for getting back to their beds.” Wilson waved to his squad. “Head out to the perimeter. We’d better look for him after I talk with Hackken.”

Despite his dismissal of the missing man, Wilson was concerned. Jesting aside, the prospector teams rarely got into trouble. The moon held no life other than the mining colonies, and there hadn’t been a work related accident for several months. After the dreams he had last night, Wilson wasn’t going to take any chances.
As his squad walked out, Wilson moved his helmet close to Almuda. “Would you mind staying suited up for a few hours? I think this may be more than just an idiot civilian driver.”

“Not a problem, Sir,” said Almuda. “Would you like us to secure the perimeter while you take your men to investigate?”

“Yes, don’t want to leave the main facility undefended. Dismissed!”

Almuda saluted and went off to round up his squad. Wilson sighed. He’d been dreading his conversation with Hackken about security supplies all morning. No matter what reasoning he managed to come up with, Hackken always found a way to point out that additional expenditures were unnecessary and prohibitive for the colony’s profit margin. Wilson wondered if the revelation of a new threat to all of mankind would change the man’s mind. He entered the command center and knocked on the door to Hackken’s office.

“Enter,” emanated a soft voice from within.

Wilson opened the door, entering a small room dominated by a large metal desk with several carefully stacked piles of paper. A computer monitor faced Hackken himself, a small balding man with a soft voice. Wilson figured Hackken spoke softly as a tactic. It forced others to lean forward and strain to catch every word. It worked well. It was hard to be outraged at the arguments Hackken fashioned when you weren’t exactly certain what he had claimed. Asking him to repeat himself only resulted in him speaking even more quietly. Abusing the man was not an option, since the colony was at the Kel-Morian Combine’s disposal, not the other way around.

“I was expecting you, Sergeant Wilson,” whispered Hackken in a gravelly voice. “What expensive supplies do you need today?”

For once, Wilson figured he had a way to put Hackken on the back foot. “Actually, I came to talk to you about the recent security channel traffic and how prepared our operation is to deal with an emerging threat. Did you notice the reports on Chau Sara and Mar Sara?”

“Yes, I’ve kept up to date on the news. Seems rather far away from here, if you’re thinking of asking for a fleet to defend us,” said Hackken calmly. However, Wilson noticed Hackken’s skin begin to pale. That was a first; even after pirate attacks the man had been utterly unflappable when Wilson demanded more security equipment.

“I’d just like the fuel for our Vultures restored. Without them our patrol routes just can’t cover as much ground. We might miss something important. Like… say… a Protoss ship or one of those ferocious critters.”

“There’s no need for daily Vulture patrols. Your men can cover our small perimeter well enough. They’re certainly receiving enough pay to be responsible for keeping their eyes open.”

“True. I’m sure we can rely on a few men on foot to make sure that we locate any aliens who try and land on this moon. After all, the colony on Mar Sara certainly managed to find them before it was too late. Perhaps we’ll be just as lucky,” said Wilson ironically.

“What reason could these beasts possibly have for trying to land on this isolated moon?” Hackken asked, his voice still steady. However, his brow began to sweat profusely and his skin was nearly white. Wilson was impressed that the man was able to keep his voice neutral.

“Who knows what goes on in their minds? Do they even have thoughts? Maybe they just want us all dead,” said Wilson bluntly.

“Well...” Hackken’s throat bulged as he swallowed nervously. He stared at the computer monitor for a few seconds, as if he was seeing the image of the creature lunging at his face again. “It will be difficult but I think I can get you the fuel for your Vultures.”

“I’m glad we could reach an agreement,” said Wilson with a smile. He turned and left Hackken’s office, heading to regroup with his men. Inside, Wilson was the most frightened he had been in his entire life. He knew Hackken’s position as administrator gave him access to far more information than a security chief. Hackken had never so much as agreed to give him a single extra Gauss rifle cartridge before. How serious was this threat? He had hoped that Hackken would say no, proving he had nothing to worry about. Instead, Hackken had only increased Wilson’s suspicions that a terrible threat was facing man. Oh well, for today it was time to focus on finding that missing prospector.

“Any good news, Sergeant?” asked Hotckins, an eager expression on his face.

“Well, we got the Vulture fuel back,” said Wilson. His squad perked up immediately, hoping to save the long trudge to the north perimeter. “However, I want to make this patrol on foot to save the remaining fuel until the next shipment comes.”

“C’mon, Sergeant,” grumbled Mulheeny. “We’ve been walking all damn month.”

“Then one more day won’t kill you. Let’s get moving.”

Wilson set an aggressive pace northward over the empty brown terrain toward the hilly area that the SCV pilot had been exploring. He was normally content to travel at the sedate pace preferred by his troops, but today he was trying to exhaust himself. Maybe then he wouldn’t think about claws tearing through his flesh or assaults from space blowing him to ashes.

“Where do you think the SCV got lost?” asked Diego.

“There are a few deep valleys in the hills he was exploring. I suspect that he may have fallen in one by accident. It’s happened before when one forgot to turn off his thrusters,” explained Wilson. Space Construction Vehicles were suits similar to combat armor, protecting the men inside while they used the built-in cutting tools for various purposes, varying from mining to repairing damaged buildings. Unlike combat armor, they were equipped with rear mounted thrusters that enabled them to move rapidly over rocky terrain. The thrusters also allowed the suits to be used in constructing spaceships, orbital platforms, and other jobs that regular manpower would be unable to accomplish. Unfortunately, this also made the suits a bit difficult to maneuver.

“Well, at this point the guy is probably running out of water. Assuming he isn’t dead,” said Mulheeny.

“Always an optimist,” muttered Diego.

“Just a realist. I’m always proven right when the sun sets.”



Wilson’s team was panting too hard to continue arguing once they began ascending the hills. The rocky terrain of the area had been a long standing problem for security patrols. Vultures couldn’t access the area and it was rife with potential ambush positions. Additionally, communications were frequently blocked by the interference in the area, leaving any man who entered it entirely isolated from his fellows. Administrator Hackken had approved the prospector’s exploratary mission over Wilson’s objections. Now it was Wilson who had to find him. Wasn’t life fair.

“I’m getting a faint communications reading over in that valley to the west,” said Diego. “Pretty garbled, but it might be a distress call.”

“Alright. Hotchkins with me. Mulheeny and Diego stay back and keep us covered.” Occasionally pirates were known to use distress signals to lure targets in for an easy kill. Wilson readied his rifle and moved forward cautiously. He descended the steep slope, scanning the top of the surrounding hills for any sign of movement.

“There’s something metal over there to the right,” said Hotchkins, pointing at a vague glint behind a large outcropping of rock.


“I see it. Cover me,” said Wilson. Edging forward, finger on the trigger of his rifle, he went behind the clump of rock. One of the gray metal arms of a SCV was lying on the ground, with a liquid stain spread upon the rock at one end. As Wilson moved closer, he saw that the fluid was the dark, coppery red of blood. Judging by the size of the pool, it was unlikely that the pilot had survived the amputation.

“Guess we can confirm that the prospector is dead,” said Wilson. He glanced about to see where the rest of the vehicle was. “But what could have ripped the arm off his suit? I don’t think that could have happened by accident. Anyone see where the rest of him is?”

“Negative,” said Mulheeny.

“Nothing, Sarge…” commed Diego. “Wait, I think I see some metal about ten meters to your left.”

Wilson turned. The vehicle’s main body was a bit hard to make out because it was on a darker patch of rock, but he could see one of the thruster packs clearly projecting from the rear of the machine to distinguish it. “I see it. Hotchkins, with me.”

The two men moved cautiously toward the derelict suit, rifles raised for any potential threats. Wilson activated his suit’s exterior lamp to get a better view of the area. The man-shaped metal shell of a Space Construction Vehicle, missing an arm, leaped clearly into his view. It had tipped forward, presumably as the panicked, dying operator had fallen forward while firing thrusters to try to escape whatever had happened to him. Wilson inspected the site where the arm had been wrenched away. There was a long white scoring mark along the shoulder plate of the armor, as if a razor had etched a line in the paint. He bent forward to get a better view of the area.

“Look out behind you, Sergeant!” yelled Hotchkins.

“Wha-“ said Wilson sharply, spinning about. A huge cloud of dirt was flying in the air, smacking into his faceplate. Wilson fell back on to his backside in surprise, causing the green blur lunging toward him to fly overhead. “What the hell is that!”

Hotchkins opened up with his rifle, spraying several bursts of fire over Wilson’s supine body at the creature that had tried to tackle him. Wilson scuttled backwards toward Hotchkins, stunned to discover that the beast he was seeing was the same as the one from Raynor’s video. Those things are here?

Mulheeny and Diego opened up from their position at the ridge, pounding several rounds into the animal’s limbs, causing spurts of gore. The creature made a primal roar of anger and turned toward the two. It prepared to lunge forward. Wilson sprayed a magazine into the beast’s core. It wheezed and fell on to its side.

“Are you all right, Sergeant?” asked Hotchkins.

“Never mind me. Are there any other targets?” said Wilson.

“Nothing I can see,” said Mulheeny. “But that thing just popped out of the ground. There could be hundreds of them here for all we know.”

Diego and Mulheeny trudged down from their position at the ridge to have a look at the creature they had helped kill. It was breathing heavily and blood flowed from its limbs and the major wounds Wilson had inflicted on its core body. The red eyes on the beast still seemed to glare with hatred.

“What is it?” asked Diego.

Wilson decided that pretending he didn’t have an idea wouldn’t do his troops any good. “Beasts like this were sighted on the Mar Sara colony yesterday. Apparently there are thousands of them attacking all the settlements on the planet’s surface. No one knows where they came from.”

“They take a lot of punishment, whatever they are,” said Hotchkins. “I hit it with a few rounds at close range and they didn’t even penetrate its skin.”

“It looks like the outer skin is rather thick,” mused Diego. “Like armor. You can see where the ammunition was deflected. They left these light grey indentations on the shell, meaning they just took off the thin outer layer of skin but couldn’t penetrate whatever the skeleton is made of.”

“Sorry to interrupt the biology lesson, but why is it still alive?” asked Mulheeny gruffly. “You hit the thing a bunch of times in its torso, but it’s still breathing.”

Wilson listened more closely to the creature’s breathing pattern. Rather than weakening, it seemed to be becoming more regular and vigorous. Wilson glanced over the rest of its body. Its fangs were beginning to move again in a rhythmic fashion, the profuse bleeding of the creature’s chest wounds had slowed to a trickle, and the claws on its long arms were beginning to twitch. Perhaps most frighteningly, its eyes continued to stare hungrily at the men surrounding it.

“I don’t think it’s dying, Sergeant,” said Diego. “Maybe we should shoot it again.”

“I think you’re right,” said Wilson. As he raised his weapon toward the beast’s head, one of its arms swung out and slammed against Mulheeny’s right leg. Wilson fired off three quick bursts into the head, blowing it off the creature. Its body finally fell lifeless to the ground. Mulheeny had fallen on to his side, cursing. The leg plate of his armor had a large dent from the leg’s impact.

“How the hell did that thing survive all that?” asked Hotchkins, eyes widened in shock. “It was getting better right as we watched it!”

“I have no idea,” said Wilson. “Guess we better shoot them a few extra times in the head to make sure they’re dead. Did the critter hurt you Mulheeny?”

“No, I’m fine. Just startled me.” Mulheeny arose slowly, then bent his knees up and down a few times. He examined the dent in his armor. “Damn, those critters are strong,” said Mulheeny in an appreciative tone. “Almost went right through my leg plate.”

“I think we need to get back to headquarters,” said Wilson. “Let’s get out of this rock formation so we can get a clear signal.”

“Should we do anything about the pilot’s body?” asked Diego.

“I’ll tell Hackken the location,” said Wilson. “If he wants to get the suit back and repair it, he’ll send a team over. I don’t really want to haul him all the way back home. If we run into more of these things while carrying a body we might end up needing a whole cemetery instead of one casket. Keep your eyes open for any disturbed patches of dirt, maybe we can see them when they’re still underground and be ready.”

They hustled out of the valley and headed to the south. Wilson tried sending a message to Hackken once they were clear of the rocky terrain but was still getting too much interference. He gave up and set a brisk pace back toward the mining colony. A few areas of disturbed looking soil were warily eyed by the squad, but nothing lunged out to try and devour the marines.

When they were in sight of the colony, Wilson knew something bad had happened. The two Goliath walkers were in sight on perimeter guard, moving their exterior searchlights back and forth. Three of the marines on watch duty were patrolling the perimeter, searching for anything moving about in the dawn light. Wilson decided he should try radioing Almuda to make sure that his squad wasn’t shot by the wary guards.

“Corporal Almuda, this is Sergeant Wilson. Please respond. Over.”

“Sergeant! This is Almuda. We got attacked while you were out. I ordered the Goliath pilots to get suited up to give us some more firepower to hold the perimeter.”

“Roger. I’m moving in from the north, so don’t fire.” Wilson waved his men to advance. He observed four bloodied carcasses on the western side of the colony that resembled the creature he had shot earlier. They had a green carapace anyway, the rest of the bodies were a bit too mangled to tell what they were. Wilson opened a radio channel to his squad, “Stand watch at the perimeter while I see what’s going on here.”

“What happened, Almuda?” asked Wilson while he approached the corporal.

“About one hour after you left one of my men sighted something approaching the western perimeter. I went over to take a look through my targeting scope and saw a few creatures hopping around in the distance. They didn’t seem like they were likely to be harmful so I told him to let me know if they got any closer. About ten minutes later all four of them charged his position. I ordered my men to provide suppressing fire, but they were really tough to take down.” Almuda sighed and lowered his gaze. “By the time we managed to kill all of them, they’d torn Private Higgins to shreds.”

“It’s not your fault. I ran into one of them on my patrol. They seem to be able to recover from wounds quickly, and they certainly move a lot faster than you’d think. You made a good call in getting the Goliaths ready as well. We may need them if we get more than a handful coming at us.”

“Anything else you need me to do, Sir?”

“I’m going to go have a talk with Hackken. Just hold here till I get back.”

“Sir!” acknowledged Almuda with a salute.

View Part Three

Infestation-Part One

This is a short story I wrote last year set in the Starcraft universe. Perhaps that's a bit nerdy but whatever. I will add each part over the next few days. Enjoy!

Infestation
Day One
Sergeant Francis Wilson scanned the perimeter of the small mining colony on the moon of Pyrux. The parched, brown soil stretched onward for a few kilometers until it reached the hills surrounding the colony. The hills were an interesting change of scenery, transitioning the landscape from barren, brown dirt to barren, brown rock. As Wilson looked to his right, he observed the only reason humanity had any interest in the miserable moon. There was a small field of the reflective, light blue mineral deposits needed throughout the Koprulu sector as a base metal for manufacturing. As security chief of the colony on Pyrux, orbiting the planet Telarus IV, Wilson was responsible for managing the small squad of soldiers that safeguarded the mining operation.

As if there was much to take, Wilson mused. The colony contained a few supply depots for storing spare parts, military supplies, and mining equipment. A large barracks provided quarters for the colony’s small guard force. The aging rectangular buildings did not add much to the aesthetic appeal of the area, though at least they were black and gray instead of brown.

The most interesting feature was the circular command center dominating the center of the colony. The building was capable of lifting off from the ground using its internal thruster systems, allowing it to move to a new location once the mineral deposits of a region were exhausted. The barracks was similarly equipped and would move along with the command center when required. The supply depots would be dismantled and reassembled at the new mining site. One of the advantages to small mining colonies was their flexibility.

“Sergeant Wilson to squad, time for the shift change,” Wilson radioed through his combat armor’s communication system. Wilson began to walk back toward the barracks, the armored boots of his CMC-300 Powered Combat Suit clunking resoundingly on the ground. It was time to awaken Corporal Almuda and his men for the night watch. Wilson sighed. His tenure as the colony’s security chief had not been one of the more exciting times of his life.

Other than repelling the occasional pirate raiding party, there was little to do but mediate disputes among the colony’s workers. The only joy he got out of this post was when he could recklessly hurl one of the installation’s two Vulture Hover Bikes around the colony’s grounds at breakneck speeds. The Vultures were fast moving vehicles that used to make patrolling the perimeter an exhilarating pleasure rather than a chore. However, the colony’s administrator, Edward Hackken, had restricted hover bike use to three days a week in order to reduce fuel costs. Wilson made a mental note to complain to Hackken again about the prohibition in the morning. Wilson would of course claim that the bike patrols were needed for protecting the colony rather than his sanity.

Hackken had been foisted on the colony by the Kel-Morian Combine, an organization that secured most of the mining operations throughout the sector with a large private army. One year ago the Combine had sent a dropship to the colony with a small detachment of troops, asking if the colony would like to join as a member in exchange for protection. The price of membership was sixty percent of the colony’s mining income, but Wilson and the civilian management had agreed to pay the fees without question. Otherwise, a group of unusually well trained and equipped "pirates" would have sacked the colony within a week.

Wilson had to admit that Combine membership had provided a few benefits for his department. Corporal Almuda and his three well trained Marines were sent to assist in the colony’s defense, along with two Goliath assault walkers and a somewhat dated Arclite Siege Tank. The Goliath walkers were equipped with powerful twin autocannons and a shoulder mounted anti-air missile system. More than a few pirate raiding ships had been fatally surprised to discover that the colony boasted anti-air defenses.

The tank boasted a long ranged 80mm cannon, sufficient for destroying most vehicles that pirates could field. The newer Arclite models were capable of transforming into an artillery piece capable of firing 120mm explosive rounds an incredible range. Unfortunately, the Combine had neglected to send a trained pilot along with their tank, so Wilson had never gotten to see how the vehicle worked in combat.

However, the best weapon provided was the Kel-Morian Combine’s insignia on the roof of the command center. Any scavenger or pirate who saw that knew they were risking retaliation from the most powerful non-Confederate organization in the sector. Even the Confederacy, the governing body of the Koprulu sector ruling nearly a dozen major worlds, rarely interfered with the Kel-Morians.

Wilson arrived at the boxy barracks and nodded to the other three men of his command who were returning from their perimeter watch positions. He approached the west entrance gate of the barracks, which led into the small armory room for his squad. Entering the passcode into the glowing security panel set next to the door, he prepared for a long wait. It was a ponderous process, the motors of the gate whining with the effort of raising the heavy portal three meters. Wilson had filed a repair request weeks ago, but apparently Hackken hadn’t got around to approving the order.

After the door finally finished ascending, Wilson’s men moved into the barrack’s armory. On one side the small room contained crates of the 8mm spiked ammunition used by C-14 Gauss Rifles, such as those Wilson’s squad carried. The other side held weapon racks and berths for recharging the powered combat suits needed for moving about on the outside of the moon. Wilson placed his Gauss Rifle on the weapons rack and moved into one of the berths to wait for the barrack’s technicians to assist him in removing his armor. The armor was essential for protection from solar radiation and weapons fire, but that didn’t make it any less of a pain to remove after a long patrol. Wilson always felt like a clumsy toddler who needed help taking off a coat.

“Hey Sarge, what’s the story on the Vultures?” asked Robert Hotchkins, a lithe man who also enjoyed rocketing at breakneck speeds around the colony. “Are we going to start patrols with them again?”

“I’ll talk to Hackken again in the morning about it. Don’t get your hopes up though, the man’s job is to say no.”

“He’s pretty good at it,” griped Patrick Mulheeny, a tall, bulky man with a thick brown beard. “We haven’t been fully equipped since he arrived.”

“As if there’s a reason to keep us armed,” muttered Federico Diego, a dour man with a swarthy complexion. “The Combine keeps their resources for their bigger mining operations. The ones that have vespene gas refineries along with mineral fields. Smaller operations like us don’t matter.”

“Shut up, Diego,” barked Mulheeny, craning his neck upward to glare at Diego over the shoulders of the technician loosening the seals of his armor. “You always think you’re so damned smart. We just need someone who cares about us in charge.”

“Diego’s right,” said Wilson. “It’s more efficient to harvest the mineral resources that are near gas deposits. The Combine is out to make the biggest profit possible. Defending little facilities like ours doesn’t pad their bottom line. Caring does not enter into their calculations.”

The technician assisting Wilson finished unlocking his armor’s seals and removed the torso and leg portions. Wilson stretched his arms in the air and smiled. His muscles always felt cramped when they were trapped in the bulky shell. Perhaps it was his age; he had lost the spryness of youth when he turned forty two years ago. Wilson glanced around and saw that the rest of his squad was freed as well. They appeared bored rather than relieved.

“I’ll see you men bright and early in the morning for another exciting day here on Pyrux,” said Wilson with a smirk. Diego rolled his eyes and filed out to his bunk, Mulheeny and Hotchkins following him.

Wilson walked with the technician team to the east armory to brief Almuda. Corporal Almuda and his three men were preparing to suit up for their nightly patrol, checking their gear and weapons to ensure all was in order. The technicians hurried over to ready their combat suits. The night patrol’s shoulder plates were painted green, the color worn by Kel-Morian Combine soldiers. Wilson suspected this was to remind the civilians about who was funding their security. Just in case the giant Combine symbol stamped on the command center wasn’t reminder enough. Almuda’s team was composed of former criminals, forced to undergo Neural Resocialization treatments to become defenders of the Combine’s interests. Wilson wished that his security team displayed the same zeal that Almuda’s men exhibited. He had no idea how the treatments worked, but the results were clear.

“Sir!” Almuda said, executing a sharp salute.

“At ease, Corporal,” said Wilson, returning the salute.

“Any orders for our patrol, Sir?” asked Almuda.

“Same as usual. Just another day of watching dirt baked by the sun,” said Wilson. He then remembered one detail, “Wait, one of the civilians took a SCV out to the north ridge to explore a potential mineral deposit. He should be returning sometime in the early morning. Don’t shoot him!”

“Acknowledged, Sir,” said Almuda. The technicians were finished strapping the combat suits on to the marines. “Permission to depart for patrol?”

“Granted,” said Wilson. Despite his previous sentiments, he wished Almuda would show a little less deference to him. He was just security chief of a backwater mining colony, not the commander of Alpha Squadron!

Almuda lowered his helmet’s containment shield, sealing his suit. He gave a wave to Wilson and marched out with his squad, weapons at the ready. Wilson always wondered if Almuda’s squad felt that a legion of marauders was going to land during the five minute gap between patrol changes. He supposed it was the soldierly discipline that his men lacked. He sighed and exited the armory to go to his quarters, giving a nod to the technician team as he departed.

As security chief of the installation, Wilson’s quarters were larger than the other troops. This meant he had room to cram a computer station across from his bunk. Wilson sat down and logged on to the Confederate Network to view the latest security postings from colonies around the sector. He liked to get a feel for the threats that other facilities were facing, so that he could prepare his men for similar attacks.

Four months ago he had noticed that several small mining facilities had been caught by surprise when groups of pirates posed as Confederate prospectors sent to assist the mining operation, then attacked once they were inside the defenses. A small band of marauders tried a similar ploy on Wilson’s base a few weeks later. He allowed the supposed prospector team to enter, but hid his two Goliaths in a position to set up a vicious crossfire. Sure enough, a few minutes after they were permitted inside, the “prospectors” pulled out weapons and began to fire at Wilson’s men. The concealed Goliaths opened up with their autocannons and sliced the pirates apart in moments. Wilson smiled at the memory of the look of utter surprise on the pirate leader’s face.

“Let’s see what’s going on in the sector this week,” muttered Wilson. He scanned the security reports of a few Confederate outposts who reported receiving coordinated attacks from the Sons of Korhal. They were a renegade group out to get revenge on the Confederacy for nuking their home planet after a few anti-Confederate riots had gotten out of hand. Wilson felt they were wasting their time. Even if they somehow managed to overthrow the government, it wouldn’t bring their blasted world back. However, he couldn’t deny that they seemed to be getting results. The number of assaults on Confederate facilities had been rising dramatically as of late.

Wilson was preparing to log off when a new update appeared on his screen, outlined in red to indicate a high priority situation. He brought it up on the monitor. The update showed an image of a fleet of huge space vessels. The ships were sleek and elegant, radiating power. They were longer than Terran Battlecruisers, the capitol ships of most human fleets. Wilson’s mouth dropped when he read the rest of the update. The vessels had just withdrawn from an attempt to assault the Confederate colony on Mar Sara, retreating from a Confederate counter-attack. The fleet had identified themselves as the Protoss before leaping away into deep space. They had already laid waste to the colony of Chau Sara before they had begun moving on Mar Sara, destroying every single outpost in a display of overwhelming firepower.

“What the hell?” said Wilson in a shocked voice. Those ships must have been incredibly powerful. The Confederacy had needed nuclear weapons to destroy Korhal, but these Protoss could manage a similar act from their regular fleet. He felt an unfamiliar feeling of fear. Pirate raids he could understand, they were seeking loot and funds. But what could be the motivation for destroying an entire planet?

As Wilson stared at the image of the mysterious fleet, another security update popped up on his screen. It was another high priority alert. Wilson debated whether he could handle another shock. He elected that it was better to know than worry about it all night. A video came up on his screen showing a haggard looking bearded man.

“This is Marshal Jim Raynor requesting immediate Confederate assistance for the Mar Sara colony. Some critters have destroyed some of the outlying outposts and smaller towns in the last few hours. We need backup now if we want to drive them back. I’m uploading an image of one of the things now.”

Raynor disappeared, replaced by an image of a strange orange creature that seemed precariously balanced on two legs, with four powerful looking arms projecting forward from its body, holding in a forward hunched position. Two of the arms ended in meter long claws. Shorter fangs also protruded forward from its head, looking just as deadly as the claws. Its head and main body was covered by an armored carapace that looked quite thick. The creature seemed to notice whatever was filming it, and it bounded forward on its legs, hopping at the camera. Wilson noticed that the beast’s jumps, despite the clumsy appearance, were incredibly fast. The claws struck forward at Wilson’s face, replacing the video feed with static as the camera was destroyed.

Wilson stared numbly at the computer screen for several minutes. Aliens? Humans had yet to find any life that could be considered sentient in their travels around the Korpulu Sector, and now they’d encountered two races in one day. The Protoss appeared to be far more technologically advanced than humanity, the blue exhaust emanating from the rear of their fleeing space vessels showing that they employed some sort of propulsion mechanism unknown to man. All human ships used chemical fuel that produced orange exhaust. Wilson had no idea what to think of the other alien race. It certainly wouldn’t be able to pilot a ship or vehicle, but those claws looked rather dangerous. Wilson hoped he would not need to personally evaluate their effectiveness. Wilson turned off his computer and settled down on his bunk.

Stop worrying, you fool, Wilson thought. No alien in their right mind would come to Pyrux, not when there are far more valuable planetoids in the neighboring systems. Besides, you’ve got to wake up for patrol again tomorrow. Go to sleep, soldier!

Despite the mental encouragement, it took Wilson a long time to fall asleep. He dreamed of mysterious space vessels destroying planets and fierce alien claws lunging at his face throughout the night.

Continue to Part Two

Lessons on Empires from the Total War Series

All empires seek to acquire new lands, new sources of wealth, and new people to control. However, in all empires this need to consume more and more of the world eventually leads to a collapse. More fortunate empires are able to cut loose their farthest flung holdings and keep the core of their power intact, maintaining a smaller but still significant role in the world. Other empires fail to achieve even this, losing their most precious cities to another conqueror or to civil unrest and revolt. It may not always be obvious what lead to the collapse of an empire; in most cases there is no one single event that one can point to. Instead there are a series of insidious problems that slowly cause empires to rot from the inside until they become vulnerable to natural disasters, foreign invasions, or other events that they once could absorb with ease. In their weakened state they prove fatal.

One game series that can shed some light on the problems of empire is the Total War series. This series combines turn based strategy on a world map with real-time battlefield combat between opposing armies. Each game in the series features a number of historical factions appropriate to the time period. Each of these factions attempt to seize control of as much of the world as possible through diplomacy and warfare. As an empire expands, numerous problems arise that make it problematic to maintain its level of power. Many of these are realistic problems that all empires have to deal with sooner or later.

Civil Revolt
Civil revolt is something all empires face at some point. It is inevitable that some people are not going to be loyal taxpaying Romans and will want leadership by their own people. This is represented in Rome: Total War through the Public Order bar.


The middle bar here.

There are several factor that lower public order. One is squalor, the one that looks like turds. Basically, if a town isn't upgraded regularly as the population grows, the town will start to become a pigsty and people will be unhappy that their yard is full of human waste.

The second is distance from the capital, represented by the wagon wheels. Basically, as a town is further and further from the center of your empire it will not be as loyal. This represents some of the communication difficulties posed by having it take months to years for representatives from the Emperor or King to reach isolated provinces of the empire.


For example, Scotland tends to have difficulties maintaining the loyalty of the Egyptians, at least until they develop a taste for haggis.

A third factor is cultural differences. There are many different faiths and beliefs throughout the world, some of which will conflict with the occupier's values. This represents the problems that might result when an empire's belief in Christianity conflicts with a different region's belief in the power of Thor's hammer.

A further feature added in Medieval Total War is that the Pope can excommunicate the leaders of Catholic powers if they do not follow the Pope's commands. For example, the Pope may ask that England stop attacking France and if the English ignore this they will be excommunicated. How this affects the game is that the excommunicated power is then fair game to be attacked by all other Catholic factions and all of their cities have an increase in public unrest caused by their Catholic citizens feeling disgust toward their ungodly ruler.


The Pope relishes humbling Kings.

Finally, the fourth factor of public order is simmering unrest from recent military conquest. In the first year or two of a conquest, the public will not be completely docile to their new rulers, particularly as some portion of their populace was likely killed, raped, or robbed by the invading troops. In most cases, their relatives don't approve of this.

There are a few ways an empire can improve public order. One method is by lowering taxes. The lower the tax rate the more the town will approve of their leaders. Stationing military troops in the city will also help to control the populace, as few citizens want to try and fight knights in plate mail supported by pikemen and archers. City improvements like temples and churches also help to keep people happy. Finally, placing a general in the city usually improves order, as long as he isn't an insane alcoholic.

How this plays out in the long term is that cities that have high levels of these various factors will be likely to riot and eventually revolt, leaving your empire and being taken over by rebel forces. The empire then has to attempt to retake the city again. This also means that cities that are farther from the capital will require larger garrisons to maintain public order, lower tax rates, and more investments in temples, sewers, and other city improvements to make the people happy. This leads into the next major problem:

Financial Problems
Armies require food, weapons, armor, and many other services in order to function. Although this is not represented in the Total War series, the farther away an army is from its base of support, the more expensive they are to supply. Soldiers also need to be paid, as disaster tends to occur when nations fail to pay their troops. The sack of Rome in 1527 was a regrettable consequence of Emperor Charles V forgetting to bring money to pay for his troops.


Whoops, left my wallet back in Burgundy! Sorry guys.

Of course, the price of fielding an army for most kingdoms was made more manageable by requiring nobles to provide their own armor, weapons, and troops for the King when asked. However, all armies still needed to have a large train of camp followers to maintain equipment, cook food, and provide other services to troops. These supply trains were often equal to or larger than the actual army itself. The Total War series represents these costs to an army in the upkeep cost of each unit-an amount subtracted each turn to maintain each group of soldiers.


The shining armor on just one of these fine soldiers would not be possible without the labor of twenty unsung heroes elsewhere in the empire

As a Total War game progresses the player gains access to more powerful units with better armor and weapons. Unfortunately, these troops are significantly more expensive and have a higher upkeep cost. Also, your enemies gain access to better troops as well. The cost of battle rises dramatically because you are forced to field larger armies to match your opponent's forces.


An impressive sight to behold and it only costs a king's ransom to place on the battlefield!

The problem comes when the need for larger, better armies combines with the problem of civil unrest in each new city that is taken. The towns one seizes on the exterior of the empire will require larger garrisons to pacify. Unfortunately, the higher quality troops needed to defeat enemy armies do not perform better at keeping order than their less expensive counterparts. This ends up meaning that many of one's elite troops are forced to be stuck in city garrisons until cheaper troops can be trained or brought up to relieve them. This is one reason why many empires have relied on raising and training troops native to the conquered region to keep order-it costs too much to rely purely on men from the empire's primary forces.

The financial concerns of the military are exacerbated by the need to maintain and improve each conquered region. To keep a new city happy it is frequently necessary to lower taxes and construct new temples or other improvements. This may mean that seizing a new town ends up costing more than the area can generate in income, particularly if a large garrison is needed to keep it in check. Towns do generate a one time cash bonus from sacking and looting the town, but this sum may not be large enough to offset the price of staying in the area.


For example, the town of Memphis here costs the empire more than 5,000 denari a turn to keep them content. That's enough to train and maintain ten units of cavalry!

Basically, as empires grow finances also become stretched. The core towns and provinces of the empire need to be maintained and upgraded as well, but this may not be affordable if multiple armies are in the field and new lands keep being brought into the empire's fold. This can be sustainable for a time, but if a major crisis occurs it may be crippling.

Ineffectual Leaders
Another problem faced by many empires is that their best kings and emperors eventually will die. This is a huge problem when a charismatic, militarily successful leader is replaced by an incompetent buffoon, a madman, or an alcoholic. A successful leader may increase their kingdom's holdings and power substantially only to have it all thrown away in the next few decades or centuries by their less gifted heirs. Some notable examples of problems with the chain of succession include Nero and Caligula of Rome, the rapid split of Alexander the Great's empire following his demise, and the ineffectual Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany.

How this plays out in the Total War series is that every faction has a noble family that provides generals that can be used to lead armies or govern cities. These generals have traits that measure their military command skills and their ability to manage towns effectively. These traits may increase with time as they achieve victory in battle, expand their empire, and perform other tasks successfully.


For example, this fellow has the highest possible command rating-making him a spectacular general.

Each general also acquires other personality quirks with time. Some of these are positive, such as being loyal or chivalrous. Others are not good to have, such as being an alcoholic, insane, cruel, or sexually deviant. As in real life, there are few ways to control how the heir to the empire will turn out. Some will prove successful, others will be ineffectual and best kept as far away from the reins of power as possible.

Encountering Stronger Foreign Powers
A final cause of demise for many empires is when they come into conflict with more powerful rivals. The Mongol invasion of China, Europe, and the Middle East is a great example of this. An empire that is already stretched through attempts to conquer more territory is extremely vulnerable to a motivated enemy force that assaults it with a united offensive. In the Total War games this is why it is risky to ignore the closest factions to your empire, even if you are allied with them. If your armies are off invading foreign lands, the ally next to your capital might decide that it is a great time to invade. Good luck moving your armies in Egypt back to England in time to stop that force!

Conclusion
Empires require a lot of maintenance to be successful. Unfortunately, problems with overstretched armies, civil revolt, limited finances, ineffective leaders, and rival powers all will eventually cause an empire to contract or collapse. This is why territorial acquisitions of any sort have to be thought through beforehand, a rebellious province that has little of value is simply not worth the effort of controlling.

If you enjoyed this article you might also enjoy this one taking a look at looting in the Total War series.