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SCL Chapter 148: Beneath the Crimson Sands
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 02:59:38 +0000 UTCThe rust-colored sandstorm that had blotted out the sky dissipated just as suddenly as it had arrived. The gradually chilling sun cast a mag
The rust-colored sandstorm that had blotted out the sky dissipated just as suddenly as it had arrived. The gradually chilling sun cast a magnificent interplay of light and shadow across the land. Evening's glow surged from the horizon like a rising tide, slowly blanketing the earth. The orange-gray sky of Mar Sara stretched into the endless crimson plains, forming a vast and majestic desert landscape.
As light and shadow slowly faded, the temperature began to plummet.
Augustus pulled on a thick windbreaker lined with wool and a felt hat. He drew open the flap of his field tent, holding a mining pick in one hand and slinging an E-7 Gauss rifle over his shoulder. With steady, powerful strides, he made his way toward the motor pool, where hover bikes and off-road vehicles were parked.
The Revolutionary Army camp was built among several low mounds. Dozens of cube-shaped military tents formed the base, each covered with a rust-colored waterproof tarp that blended with the terrain of Mar Sara.
At the center of the camp, two gas-fueled engines provided electricity for signal lights and essential facilities. The signal beacon, driven deep into the ground, bathed the entire camp in a bright white glow.
Roughly 2,000 soldiers lived here, all wearing local garb. Regardless of their past professions on Korhal—whether hotel managers or corner shop clerks—they now toiled as miners under Augustus’ command.
“Marshal Mengsk!” Revolutionary soldiers wearing thick khaki greatcoats and tall boots saluted him as he passed on his way to the vehicle depot.
Of the more than 20,000 Korhal-born Revolutionary Army soldiers Augustus had brought with him, only about 4,000 remained. These had been reformed into a Marine Brigade. Through the pain of Korhal’s fall and the loss of their homeworld, they had been forged—battle after battle—into hardened warriors.
Almost all of them were members of the Pan-Terran Party; some were even part of the Party’s Revolutionary Committee.
Pan-Terran fighters were known for their lofty ideals and unwavering revolutionary conviction. They wholeheartedly believed in Augustus’ goal of overthrowing the Terran Confederacy and establishing a Terran Republic, embracing it as their personal mission. To return to Korhal and rebuild their homeworld was the life-long dream that drove them.
At this moment, every Party member understood deeply: this was the most difficult time for the Korhal Revolutionary Army. Far from their homeworld, they wandered the perilous expanse of the universe, hounded and cornered by Confederate fleets. Because of this, they refused to accept any wages from Augustus, drawing only standard individual rations and a small share of tobacco and alcohol.
“You’ve worked hard. My logistics advisor told me the engineers just finished constructing a water tower and reservoir. Their team discovered an underground river with clean water.” Augustus looked at the faces weathered by Mar Sara’s sandstorms and harsh climate—scarred, frostbitten. Among them were both men and women, some middle-aged in their thirties or forties, others barely sixteen.
“One of our stoves is powered by a generator salvaged from a decommissioned battlecruiser. Before you sleep tonight, make sure to take a hot shower.”
As soon as Augustus finished speaking, laughter rippled through the crowd. In the barren wilds of Mar Sara, a hot shower was a rare luxury. Sonic cleansing could remove dead skin and grime, but it could never replace the human yearning for real water.
Even so, the Revolutionary soldiers didn’t slack off. Under the guidance of officers and Pan-Terran Party political commissars, they formed up and marched in formation toward the distant living quarters.
Above them, the sky still held the last vestiges of dusk. Two crescent moons rose over Mar Sara’s twilight canopy, stars beginning to flicker into view. Augustus entered the garage—constructed from alloy steel framing and tent canvas—opened a vehicle door, and quietly took his seat in the back.
“Vixen-class Light Infantry APC.”
The transport ship of the same name, also manufactured by the same company, was a fast and cost-effective model commonly purchased in bulk by the Confederate Marines and Army.
The voice came from a red-haired Ghost who revealed herself from the driver’s seat, her hands on the controls. As she leaned forward to adjust the instruments, the curve from her neck to waist to hips formed a perfect S-shape. Her black bodysuit traced every contour with striking clarity.
“We managed to acquire quite a few of these vehicles from the locals. With their wide, elevated chassis and powerful engines, they’re perfectly suited to Mar Sara’s rocky and arid terrain.” Kerrigan turned her head abruptly to glance at Augustus as she spoke. She wore the mask of a Umojan Shadow Guard—except for her fiery red lips, her entire face was concealed beneath Umojan nanoweave fabric and gray soft-alloy armor.
“Ready to move out?”
“The mining area isn’t far, but we don’t have any outposts along the way.”
Augustus, suddenly aware that his eyes had been fixed on Kerrigan’s firm rear, shifted his posture without a word, wrapping himself deeper into his thick coat.
“Wait a moment. Corporal Faraday is on his way.”
As the words left his mouth, Corporal Faraday jogged up with Augustus’ security detail. He wore a cowboy hat, and behind him followed at least twenty fully armed Revolutionary soldiers. Gauss rifles and shotguns in hand, they took up positions around Augustus, each of them dressed in Mar Sara cowboy fashion, their expressions resolute.
Corporal Faraday and his unit boarded four additional armored vehicles and drove at the head of the convoy to clear the way for Augustus. A few Vulture scout bikes followed closely behind, providing escort.
“With me here, no one’s going to lay a finger on you,” said Kerrigan as she started the engine.
“I’ve never doubted that. You’re the best Ghost operative there is,” Augustus replied as the convoy pulled out of the camp.
Outside the Revolutionary Army camp, several sentry towers stood with high-beam floodlights shining into the desert. These outposts were primarily to deter wild beasts and ill-intentioned scavengers or wandering criminals. The real surveillance systems included four types of sensors—infrared and thermal imaging among them. The monitoring center was staffed around the clock, with three Revolutionary soldiers on duty at all times to ensure absolute security.
The road connecting the camp to the mining zone had been recently built. It wasn’t excessively rough, and now and then jeeps and trucks—loaded with Revolutionary soldiers or crates of minerals—rumbled past Augustus’ vehicle.
“This rich deposit should keep us mining for a month,” said Augustus. “Swann needs those resources to get a few of those wrecked ships working again—fingers crossed.”
This mining site wasn’t being exploited illegally. He had purchased the rights from the local magistrate—at a price agreeable to both sides, sweetened with a few rare crystals.
It was worth noting that, compared to core worlds like Tarsonis, corruption on Mar Sara was relatively mild. Town residents could actually vote and elect leaders they were satisfied with. Local officials weren’t rotten to the core; in fact, to govern the hard-edged Mar Sara populace, most magistrates and lawkeepers were iron-handed and strictly abided by Confederate law—far better than the lawmakers themselves.
“You’re not really after those crystals, are you?” Kerrigan asked as she drove.
“Not entirely.”
Augustus stared out the window of the armored vehicle. Under the twin beams of headlights ahead and behind, the roadside was littered with jagged rocks, brush, and scattered markers—beyond that, the desolate crimson desert stretched endlessly. Above, the sky glittered with stars. There was a strange beauty to this alien world, so different from the bright, bustling metropolises of Korhal and Tarsonis.
“What I’m looking for is alien ruins—but that all comes down to luck.”
“Alien ruins? Because they’re valuable?” Kerrigan glanced sideways. “I didn’t know you were into ancient alien civilizations. A rare xenoarchaeologist, huh?”
“Because they can be turned into weapons.”
“I used to love alien mysticism when I was a kid. My brother and I always believed aliens were real.” Augustus shrugged. “Anyway, if you spot anything unusual out there, let me know. I’ve got zero expertise in this area.”
“The rich mineral deposits aren’t the only reason I came here,” said Augustus. “I’ve heard that the people of Mar Sara are among the most rebellious in the sector. They’ve tried to rise up several times, but every attempt fell apart for lack of organization.”
“I’ve thought about it. What the people of Mar Sara truly need is a revolutionary ideology—something that can guide them down the proper path of resistance. They need a clear and comprehensive action plan. They need a real leader.”
“Our goal isn’t just to liberate the people of Mar Sara and then walk away. We’re here to rebuild order, to ensure that everyone here can live a life with food on the table and clothes on their backs.”
“In that regard,” he added, “only Korhal and Antiga show that same rebellious spirit. But Antiga is crawling with Confederate troops, while Mar Sara has been left to rot.”
“This place… is one of the levers with which we’ll move the entire Confederacy.”
“Apologies—I’m driving, so I can’t applaud just yet,” Kerrigan said with a soft chuckle. “One more thing—at our two o’clock, about 1.6 kilometers out, there are three cowboys hiding in the brush. Local thieves. They’re trying to sneak something out of the mining zone. No heavy weapons on them.”
“They’re watching this road.”
“Corporal Faraday,” Augustus said, activating his comms, “at your two o’clock, directly ahead, there’s a group of local bandits. Bring them to me.”
Faraday’s armored vehicle peeled away from the convoy with a smooth turn. The three cowboys, hidden in the underbrush, had no chance of outrunning the vehicle. They had two Vultures stashed in a nearby cave, but it was far too distant to reach in time.
“Even from that distance, you could sense them?” Augustus asked as Kerrigan brought their vehicle to a stop.
“A little, yes,” Kerrigan replied. “As long as their minds are still active, I can pick them up. Unless they’re carrying something that blocks psionic signals.”
“Umojan Shadow Guard equipment doesn’t suppress psionic energy like Confederate Ghost gear—it actually enhances it, even if only slightly.” Augustus nodded. “But if the sample size is large enough, even a small amplification can become significant. Your psionic potential is unmatched among humans. You may be the most powerful psionic I've encountered in my lifetime.”
