05-21-2018, 03:32 AM
The night had settled over the desert as Jim sauntered into the pub again, tracking sand over the worn wooden boards. The drive to Nippur and back twice in two days had taken its toll on the old soldier. His heavy feet dragged him to the bar, his coarse fingers sliding over a bar stool. He dropped onto it like a sack full of sand and stuck his elbows on the bar. His forearms stung with the ruddy burns of the unforgiving sun.
Jim lifted his head to order when he noticed the unusually high occupancy rate inside the bar for the second straight night. His eyes moved slowly over the crowd, again a sullen and morose bunch nursing their drinks and barely saying a word. Unlike the previous evening, Jim spotted Swann sitting at a table with Sergeant Lewis Baxter, Jim’s squadron leader and Private Adam Carlton, scratching at his thick black beard.
Finding one of the few empty chairs in the bar, Jim saddled up to the table and joined them. “Hey fellas. Another big day?”
“You said it, cowboy,” Swann said, taking a hearty swig of his beer. “Those damn bandits don’t know when to quit.”
“Bandits?” Jim said. “You’re tellin’ me they attacked the town for the third time in two days?”
“It’s unprecedented,” Lewis said, fingers tapping on the cold glass of cola in his hands. “They’re relentless.”
“Did they say anythin’? They demandin’ anythin’ different?” Jim said.
Adam shook his head. His normally jovial attitude was absent. “It’s like it was yesterday. They all seem to be teaming up and trying to brute-force their way into the town. It’s almost like they think we’re sitting on a treasure pile or something and they’re willing to divvy up the spoils. What could be making them act like this?”
“Not to mention willing to work together,” Sergeant Baxter added. “Most of the bandit tribes have so much in-fighting, it’s a wonder they manage to pull off any raids at all. We’ve never seen them working together ever.”
“Not somethin’ easily answered,” Swann said. “You seen ‘em? They’re mad. They ain’t stoppin’ to talk. Maybe the desert’s finally scrambled what was left of their brains.”
Jim rubbed at his prickly chin. Could the dark creatures he had fought not so long ago have survived somehow and passed on their corruptive influence to the bandits? Had Nippur’s recent revival had something to do with stirring them up? Or was it something completely different, something they didn’t even know about?
“Well whatever’s goin’ on, I’m stayin’ put,” Jim said. “Seems whenever I’m away they hit the town.”
“Get your sleep,” Private Carlton said, standing up. “If tomorrow’s anything like the last few days, you’re going to need it. We all will.”
“Good point,” Sergeant Baxter said. “Let’s all turn in for the night.”
Swann downed the dregs of his beer and hopped to his feet. “Now there’s somethin’ we can all agree to.”
Jim let his drinking buddies leave the bar first, taking one last glance at the tired and worried faces that filled the room. The townsfolk knew hardship – just day-to-day life in the Town With No Name came with heaping handfuls of it – but never were they so smothered by it. He could see the toll it was taking through every crinkled brow and drooping, downcast gaze. Jim wished there was something he could do to lift all their spirits, but it was up to them to ride out this storm. With any luck, the treaty with Nippur would soon kick in and improve everyone’s lot in the town.
Jim pushed through the swinging doors of the bar and into the chilly night air. He almost fell over when a giant orange figure stepped from his side. He calmed himself. The Hammer. For whatever reason, The Hammer was almost always inside her firebat suit, even when she didn’t need to be. Jim had never seen her outside of it and had no idea of what her real name was. Hell, he hadn’t even heard her voice before. Jim knew most firebats were resocialised criminals so there was a chance the process may have left her with some… issues, so Jim hadn’t probed further into her past.
Still, it was quite the shock when he heard her voice echo inside that big orange suit.
“Commander.” The Hammer’s voice was deep and mirthless, but unmistakably female.
“Hammer?” Jim said, both in recognition of her presence and bewilderment of hearing her speak. “What are you… what can I…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. We’ve never talked before. I’d be lyin’ if I said you didn’t throw me just now.”
“Commander,” she continued as if Raynor hadn’t spoken at all, “there is something about the raids that I think should be brought to your attention.”
Jim furrowed his brow. If there was something unusual about the bandit attacks, why wasn’t it brought up by the others? “What? What is it?”
“The others dismiss it, but the bandits have been attacking differently,” she said.
“So I’ve heard. Bandit’s ain’t in the habit of formin’ alliances, temporary or no. But they don’t seem to be dismissin’ it.”
The firebat’s hemispherical head twisted, its glowing yellow eyes aimed at something in the distance. “The bandits are more hysterical than usual. They are more reckless, less concerned about their well-being. They seem prone to the point of what I would almost call suicide.”
“Yeah?” Swann and his squad hadn’t mentioned suicidal bandits. “What’s standin’ out?”
“Some of the bandits are running directly into the line of fire,” The Hammer said. “There’s no attempt at self preservation. And they’re shouting, screaming. I know they’re not all right in the head, but they’re all shouting the same thing.”
“And what’s that?” Jim said.
“Let me in.”
Jim shifted his weight on his feet. “Let me in?”
“And the terror in their eyes…” The Hammer said. “It’s almost as if they’re running from something.”
Jim cleared his throat and digested the unsettling report. “So you think their attacks ain’t really attacks. You think they’re tryin’ to get into the town because they think they’ll be safe here. And maybe they think allyin’ all their tribes together gives ‘em the best shot at gettin’ in.”
“That’s what I think,” The Hammer said.
“Do you have any proof?” Jim asked.
Hammer’s head swiveled back to Jim. “No, commander. Only my gut instinct.”
“I ain’t one to discount a soldier’s intuition, but I’ll need to see this first hand,” Jim said. “You understand.”
The firebat stared at Raynor for a moment longer and plodded off without another word.
Jim sighed and went his own way. The stars in the clear velvet sky twinkled. The utter silence of the desert night seemed a world away from a bandit assault. Whatever was going on, Jim would find out what it was. After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, he and the squadron would suit up and start questioning the agitated outlaws the most effective way he knew how; down the barrel of a gun.
Finding the small room set aside for him off the side of Swann’s garage, Jim thrust off his heavy boots and collapsed onto his stained, lumpy bed. His mind attempted to piece the puzzle together but he soon slipped into unconsciousness.
<James Raynor!>
Jim shot up with a start. His bewildered eyes fell upon Karax standing over his bed, a torch in his four fingered hand. The din of shouting, revving engines and piercing bangs boomed from outside. “Karax! What are you doin’ in here? What’s goin’ on?!”
<I’m afraid it’s bad news, James Raynor,> Karax said. <The bandits have returned for another attack and we need you to assist in the defense of the town.>
Jim frowned, eyes wide. “The bastards are back again?!”
The protoss phase-smith took a step back from the terran commander. <Yes. And you best hurry. I hear this may be the biggest incursion yet.>
Jim lifted his head to order when he noticed the unusually high occupancy rate inside the bar for the second straight night. His eyes moved slowly over the crowd, again a sullen and morose bunch nursing their drinks and barely saying a word. Unlike the previous evening, Jim spotted Swann sitting at a table with Sergeant Lewis Baxter, Jim’s squadron leader and Private Adam Carlton, scratching at his thick black beard.
Finding one of the few empty chairs in the bar, Jim saddled up to the table and joined them. “Hey fellas. Another big day?”
“You said it, cowboy,” Swann said, taking a hearty swig of his beer. “Those damn bandits don’t know when to quit.”
“Bandits?” Jim said. “You’re tellin’ me they attacked the town for the third time in two days?”
“It’s unprecedented,” Lewis said, fingers tapping on the cold glass of cola in his hands. “They’re relentless.”
“Did they say anythin’? They demandin’ anythin’ different?” Jim said.
Adam shook his head. His normally jovial attitude was absent. “It’s like it was yesterday. They all seem to be teaming up and trying to brute-force their way into the town. It’s almost like they think we’re sitting on a treasure pile or something and they’re willing to divvy up the spoils. What could be making them act like this?”
“Not to mention willing to work together,” Sergeant Baxter added. “Most of the bandit tribes have so much in-fighting, it’s a wonder they manage to pull off any raids at all. We’ve never seen them working together ever.”
“Not somethin’ easily answered,” Swann said. “You seen ‘em? They’re mad. They ain’t stoppin’ to talk. Maybe the desert’s finally scrambled what was left of their brains.”
Jim rubbed at his prickly chin. Could the dark creatures he had fought not so long ago have survived somehow and passed on their corruptive influence to the bandits? Had Nippur’s recent revival had something to do with stirring them up? Or was it something completely different, something they didn’t even know about?
“Well whatever’s goin’ on, I’m stayin’ put,” Jim said. “Seems whenever I’m away they hit the town.”
“Get your sleep,” Private Carlton said, standing up. “If tomorrow’s anything like the last few days, you’re going to need it. We all will.”
“Good point,” Sergeant Baxter said. “Let’s all turn in for the night.”
Swann downed the dregs of his beer and hopped to his feet. “Now there’s somethin’ we can all agree to.”
Jim let his drinking buddies leave the bar first, taking one last glance at the tired and worried faces that filled the room. The townsfolk knew hardship – just day-to-day life in the Town With No Name came with heaping handfuls of it – but never were they so smothered by it. He could see the toll it was taking through every crinkled brow and drooping, downcast gaze. Jim wished there was something he could do to lift all their spirits, but it was up to them to ride out this storm. With any luck, the treaty with Nippur would soon kick in and improve everyone’s lot in the town.
Jim pushed through the swinging doors of the bar and into the chilly night air. He almost fell over when a giant orange figure stepped from his side. He calmed himself. The Hammer. For whatever reason, The Hammer was almost always inside her firebat suit, even when she didn’t need to be. Jim had never seen her outside of it and had no idea of what her real name was. Hell, he hadn’t even heard her voice before. Jim knew most firebats were resocialised criminals so there was a chance the process may have left her with some… issues, so Jim hadn’t probed further into her past.
Still, it was quite the shock when he heard her voice echo inside that big orange suit.
“Commander.” The Hammer’s voice was deep and mirthless, but unmistakably female.
“Hammer?” Jim said, both in recognition of her presence and bewilderment of hearing her speak. “What are you… what can I…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. We’ve never talked before. I’d be lyin’ if I said you didn’t throw me just now.”
“Commander,” she continued as if Raynor hadn’t spoken at all, “there is something about the raids that I think should be brought to your attention.”
Jim furrowed his brow. If there was something unusual about the bandit attacks, why wasn’t it brought up by the others? “What? What is it?”
“The others dismiss it, but the bandits have been attacking differently,” she said.
“So I’ve heard. Bandit’s ain’t in the habit of formin’ alliances, temporary or no. But they don’t seem to be dismissin’ it.”
The firebat’s hemispherical head twisted, its glowing yellow eyes aimed at something in the distance. “The bandits are more hysterical than usual. They are more reckless, less concerned about their well-being. They seem prone to the point of what I would almost call suicide.”
“Yeah?” Swann and his squad hadn’t mentioned suicidal bandits. “What’s standin’ out?”
“Some of the bandits are running directly into the line of fire,” The Hammer said. “There’s no attempt at self preservation. And they’re shouting, screaming. I know they’re not all right in the head, but they’re all shouting the same thing.”
“And what’s that?” Jim said.
“Let me in.”
Jim shifted his weight on his feet. “Let me in?”
“And the terror in their eyes…” The Hammer said. “It’s almost as if they’re running from something.”
Jim cleared his throat and digested the unsettling report. “So you think their attacks ain’t really attacks. You think they’re tryin’ to get into the town because they think they’ll be safe here. And maybe they think allyin’ all their tribes together gives ‘em the best shot at gettin’ in.”
“That’s what I think,” The Hammer said.
“Do you have any proof?” Jim asked.
Hammer’s head swiveled back to Jim. “No, commander. Only my gut instinct.”
“I ain’t one to discount a soldier’s intuition, but I’ll need to see this first hand,” Jim said. “You understand.”
The firebat stared at Raynor for a moment longer and plodded off without another word.
Jim sighed and went his own way. The stars in the clear velvet sky twinkled. The utter silence of the desert night seemed a world away from a bandit assault. Whatever was going on, Jim would find out what it was. After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, he and the squadron would suit up and start questioning the agitated outlaws the most effective way he knew how; down the barrel of a gun.
Finding the small room set aside for him off the side of Swann’s garage, Jim thrust off his heavy boots and collapsed onto his stained, lumpy bed. His mind attempted to piece the puzzle together but he soon slipped into unconsciousness.
<James Raynor!>
Jim shot up with a start. His bewildered eyes fell upon Karax standing over his bed, a torch in his four fingered hand. The din of shouting, revving engines and piercing bangs boomed from outside. “Karax! What are you doin’ in here? What’s goin’ on?!”
<I’m afraid it’s bad news, James Raynor,> Karax said. <The bandits have returned for another attack and we need you to assist in the defense of the town.>
Jim frowned, eyes wide. “The bastards are back again?!”
The protoss phase-smith took a step back from the terran commander. <Yes. And you best hurry. I hear this may be the biggest incursion yet.>
![[Image: jimsig.jpg]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/07/jimsig.jpg)