Augustus stood before the massive bronze-tinted glass window of the command center office of the Uranus Mountains, gazing out at the distant mountains. His coffee-brown uniform was so neat and pressed it looked freshly ironed. The golden vertical bar on his right shoulder indicated his rank: Second Lieutenant. A digital wall clock displayed the time—09:00 a.m., September 11th.
It had been nearly a month since Augustus last saw combat. Over the past several weeks, Heaven's Devils—now operating as an independent unit—had cleared out approximately ten towns around Fort Howe, rooting out Kel-Morian sympathizers, anti-Federation militants, and scattered remnants of Sea Dragon squads cut off from their main force.
Heaven's Devils had encountered no serious resistance. The worst injury suffered was a single squad member with minor wounds.
In early September, Augustus's direct superior, Warfield, was promoted to command of the 5th Battalion. Augustus himself received another promotion, officially becoming a commissioned officer. On September 5th, another sibling battalion relieved Warfield's defensive duties, and the 5th Battalion was transferred to Outpost beyond the Uranus Mountains.
From Augustus's vantage point, the southern slope of the ridge was blanketed in dense coniferous forest, while the opposite slope was sparsely dotted with bare shrubs. Standing atop the ridge and looking in that direction, one could see a circular valley nestled among the mountains.
The valley itself was thick with forest. A 640-metre-wide stretch of woods between the ridge and the valley had already been completely cleared by spacefaring construction vehicles equipped with upgraded chainsaws, making way for a minefield filled with anti-personnel mines.
A half-frozen river began its descent from the towering peak of Mount Uranus—the Sky God himself—whose jagged summit pierced the clouds and storms above. From this distance, Augustus could only see the fog-shrouded tip of the peak.
Augustus gazed at the picture-perfect landscape before him, yet felt no joy at the scene's tranquility. He disliked this place. It was far removed from solid ground—damp, cold—and those seemingly beautiful glaciers were, in truth, extremely dangerous.
Compared to this, Augustus found himself missing Korhal, where the climate was always warm and pleasant. At last, he felt weary of war, exhausted by the constant need to prepare for battle after battle.
For nearly half a year, Augustus had been killing. Gradually, he had grown numb to it, and had come to accept the horrors of war as routine.
But it was finally coming to an end.
Below the command center, Federation soldiers were evacuating from the bunkers and trenches. Engineering vehicles were dismantling fortifications, loading steel panels onto transport ships. Barracks and engineering stations lifted into the air on red plasma streams emitted by their base thrusters, and with a deafening roar, the command center beneath Augustus's feet began to rise as well.
"Put these on," said Warfield, who appeared behind him wearing a pair of black goggles. He handed Augustus another pair of the same kind.
"Ready to witness the birth of a brand-new sun?" Augustus asked as he slipped on the goggles.
"The blast point is still far from us," Warfield replied.
Augustus strained his eyes toward the peak of the Uranus Mountains' central summit, but he couldn't see the nuclear warhead descending from geosynchronous orbit.
Had they been closer to the impact zone, Augustus might have seen a single thin white streak—one that would split into dozens of finer streaks within seconds.
An Apocalypse-class nuclear warhead was powerful enough to erase an entire mountain range from the map.
In an instant, a blinding white dot flared to life in the distance—and then the whole world lit up.
Augustus imagined he could hear the shriek of the warhead slicing through the atmosphere, and the despairing cries of the Sea Dragon troops below.
A massive avalanche began. Hundreds of snow-covered peaks seemed to tremble at once, shaking loose their mantles of snow. Then, pure light and searing heat swallowed everything. Rainclouds were torn apart and flung away like shreds of paper.
Like the wrath of Odin, thunderous rumbles followed the light.
Inside the command center, it was bright as day. The walls glowed white from the glare.
"Uranus is the source of many of Turaxis's rivers…" Augustus said to Warfield.
"That's irrelevant to the Federation," Warfield replied with a sigh. "More than ten thousand elite Sea Dragon troops were entrenched in the Uranus Mountains. Taking it back and rooting out all Kel-Morian resistance could've taken years—and our soldiers would've paid dearly in blood."
"As for cleaning up the pollution and radiation… that's a problem for the people of Turaxis—and their children. Damn it all."
"That… isn't my concern," Augustus muttered, watching as the world dimmed again. The ridges, the forests, the rivers—gone. Even the sky had changed color, as if the very pigments used to paint the world had vanished.
He couldn't begin to imagine what a thousand of those warheads falling on Korhal would look like.
"Look," he said. "The last unspoiled land now belongs to the Federation. Can we rest now, Major?"
"Not yet, son," Warfield replied.
"Orders just came down. We're moving out to Mar Sara next week. The Kel-Morian have ravaged our lands and homes for long enough. Now it's time for us to counterattack—and seize their colonies!"
"I'm not going," Augustus said flatly.
"Before you leave Turaxis, you'd better see your brother," Warfield sighed again.
"He's about to retire—just when we're on the verge of winning the war."
"Of course I'll see Arcturus," Augustus nodded.
"Do you know what your brother plans to do next? None of us old officers can figure it out. He could be a general this year!" Warfield said, clearly agitated.
"I don't know," Augustus said, turning his face away.
...
"Comm code Alpha-4-4-7-6, Galaxy Jumper No. 77, please dock at Bay A, Dock 11. All personnel have been cleared. This is New Babylon Space Station on Turaxis II. Salute to the soldiers."
A small spacecraft descended slowly toward the top-level port of the rotating space station. As the boarding ramp lowered, Augustus stepped out wearing a brown officer's uniform, followed closely by Jim Raynor in standard soldier attire.
The recycled air inside the station was exceptionally dry. The artificial gravity, set at 0.95 times standard, pulled Augustus firmly toward the floor. Several medium and small interstellar ships rested across the open platform of Dock A, their sleek, streamlined shapes and distinct signs of private modifications quietly proclaiming the status of their owners.
A hover bus arrived to collect Augustus and Raynor, ferrying them toward another docking area.
Along the way, Augustus saw numerous workers and patrolling soldiers. Everyone was busy—so much so that they didn't even have time to stop and greet anyone. Gazing out the window, Augustus caught sight of the pitch-black starry sky and a distant moon. He found himself wondering how they managed to maintain air pressure and prevent leaks under such conditions.
When Augustus finally saw his older brother, Arcturus Mengsk—who had officially announced his retirement—the man was lying underneath a medium-sized Galaxy Jumper, wearing thick, rough insulation gloves and fiddling with a tangled mess of wires.
Arcturus was no longer wearing his crisp officer's uniform with its bronze epaulets. Instead, he was dressed in standard mining gear—thick utility trousers, a multi-pocket orange jacket, and a pair of rugged, reliable boots. A massive power wrench hung from his belt.
Nearby, a few others dressed just like him were busy loading a 5-meter-tall space construction vehicle into the ship's cargo bay.
"Augustus! It's great to see you before you leave—ow!" Arcturus, hearing Augustus and Raynor talking, tried to sit up and promptly hit his head on the metallic undercarriage of the ship.
Augustus and Raynor grabbed Arcturus by the legs and dragged him out from under the vessel. Sitting beside his brother, Augustus asked, "Why are you doing this kind of work yourself? Aren't professional mechanics much better at it?"
"That would cost a lot," Arcturus replied, sitting up and wiping oil stains from his jacket. He reached to embrace his brother—but Augustus pushed him away. A look of hurt crossed Arcturus's face.
"Buying equipment and ships, hiring engineers, workers, and even a security force to deal with those Kel-Morian pirates—it all takes a ton of money. I've been saving up for over a decade just to go all in on this mining venture," Arcturus said. "Every coin counts. I have to make sure every cent is spent where it matters."
"You'll make it. My brother, Arcturus Mengsk, is destined for greatness," Augustus said.
Arcturus couldn't help but laugh. Praise from most people didn't mean much to him—he believed he deserved it. Only the admiration of his parents and siblings truly made him proud. The bonds of family, etched in shared blood, brought warmth to someone as solitary as him.
Arcturus was twenty-eight now. Augustus could already spot a few gray hairs on his head—though far fewer than those of their father, Angus. More and more, Arcturus resembled Angus. He had grown into a mature man, and perhaps this was what Augustus himself would look like in ten years.
But Augustus didn't think so. He was still young and had never really imagined what he might become in the future. Compared to Arcturus, Augustus resembled their mother more—and was notably more handsome. There was no guarantee he'd turn into a bearded middle-aged man like his brother.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---