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SCL Chapter 135: The Burning of Dylar
🕑 Added 2025-06-29 22:40:42 +0000 UTC“No signals detected from any Federation fleet,” reported the Norad II's navigator. “Commander, it appears the facility is undefended.”
“No,” said Augustus’s Umojan advisor. “Typically, the Dylarian Shipyards would at least host a squadron at all times. But now, the entire Federation fleet is scattered across the outer systems—along the border between the Terran Federation and the Kel-Morian Combine, over Tarsonis, and especially Korhal IV.”
“The Umojan Intelligence Bureau intercepted and decrypted Terran fleet orders. Nearly two-thirds of their forces have been rerouted to Korhal IV. Forty behemoth-class battlecruisers are carrying over 2,000 Apocalypse-class nuclear warheads,” the Umojan military advisor continued.
“As for the Dylarian Shipyards themselves, internal defenses are laughably thin. Aside from a few behemoth-class cruisers docked for maintenance, several Leviathan-class cruisers are in the process of being dismantled after decommissioning.”
“Even so,” he added, “the Dylar System should never be left undefended. This may be the Federation’s frontier, but it’s also a central hub for interstellar trade. During wartime, the Dylarian Shipyards operate at full capacity—producing, on average, one Wraith fighter every minute. It is the most critical military installation in the entire Federation.”
“Even if the Federation Navy Command believes no enemy besides the Kel-Morian forces could possibly strike here, there should be at least half a squadron stationed for protection.”
“I see them on radar,” Augustus said. “Four behemoth-class battlecruisers. Intercept them!”
At his command, thousands of destroyers, frigates, strike fighters, and assault craft surged forward without hesitation to intercept the four Federation behemoth-class cruisers. Meanwhile, the Norad II, after executing a short-range warp, arrived at Entry Point One of the Dylarian Orbital Shipyards.
“Looks like Duke didn’t give his superiors an honest report on our fleet’s size,” Augustus murmured, still in full control of the situation. He gazed through the viewport at the massive orbital complex. “And the pirate ship we hired—Jackson’s Vengeance—should have already lured Duke’s Alpha Squadron to the Phandor System. That’s over 200 light-years from Dylar.”
“Duke must be gleefully chasing that signal decoy right now,” Tychus chuckled. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realizes he’s been had. When he finally lays eyes on Jackson’s Revenge, that beat-up junker, he’ll be too stunned to speak.”
“How many big ones do you think are inside?” Tychus asked, eyes fixed on the screen displaying the vast artificial structure. “What do you think they’re worth?”
“No fewer than twenty behemoth-class battlecruisers,” Augustus replied. “They haven’t been delivered to any fleet yet. Think of them like brand-new hovercars just off the assembly line—no pilots.”
“All it takes is a crew with a navigator, warp drive tech, and an engineer to get one into the sky. Not exactly a challenge. But if you want one of those ships to actually fight? That crew’s nowhere near enough.”
As the Norad II closed to within just 5 kilometers of the Dylarian Orbital Shipyards, the colossal structure loomed ever larger in Augustus’s view. Before him rose walls tens of kilometers long, stretching endlessly upward and downward—no edge in sight.
A massive entry corridor, nearly 8 kilometers wide and tall in both horizontal and vertical dimensions, opened up before him. Deep tunnels extended behind it, flanked on either side by symmetrical rows of blinking red signal lights.
Each entrance facing open space was fitted with a stable atmospheric containment field, but beyond a few turrets, there was no other defense—no energy shields in place. The Dylarian Shipyards’ infrared and laser recognition systems could detect unregistered intruders, but were utterly helpless against a full-on assault.
Suddenly, the shipyard’s automated cannons and sentry turrets opened fire in all directions, unleashing a storm of kinetic rounds and tracer fire at the Revolutionary fleet diving in from every angle. Gun mounts whirled as belts of ammunition rained down in arcs, shredding hundreds of incoming Revolutionary fighters and Norad II’s own carrier-based interceptors into dazzling bursts of flame.
“Shields up—full power!” Augustus ordered.
As the Norad II plunged into the inbound docking tunnel, it deployed a shimmering emerald energy shield. The sentry gunfire and laser beams barely registered against the reinforced barrier. Occasionally, a Terran Federation Wraith fighter or transport ship would emerge from within the tunnel—only to be vaporized by the Norad II’s precision laser batteries.
As the flagship of the Alpha Squadron, the Norad II had been the first to receive an upgrade: a prototype defensive matrix field generator, developed from the Explorer-class science vessel’s experimental stabilized energy field research.
Because the reactors of behemoth-class battlecruisers couldn’t withstand the energy drain of full shielding—and due to cost constraints and numerous complex political factors—most of these vessels continued to rely on traditional multilayered armor defenses, even ten years later.
“I’m entering through Entry Point IV,” came Raynor’s voice, breaking intermittently due to electromagnetic interference from inside the Dylarian Orbital Shipyards.
“The Iron Justice has entered the inner ring hangars of the shipyard. We’re deploying ground troops now.”
After navigating through the tunnel for several seconds, the Norad II’s forward view suddenly opened up. The interior of the Dylarian Orbital Shipyards was completely hollow—large enough for even warships to land and take off inside.
Before Augustus unfolded a vast array of interconnected drydocks and landing platforms crowded with fighters. At the center of the shipyard stood even larger construction bays, with vertical lengths exceeding 800 meters—massive canyons from the perspective of someone standing on the floor. It was difficult to imagine what kind of colossal vessels such facilities were meant to build.
The Norad II skimmed low over the shipyard’s surface, which consisted of docks, landing pads, restricted zones, and crew living quarters. Its ground-targeting laser batteries unleashed unrelenting barrages on the infrastructure below. Under the curtain of orange laser beams raining down like a storm, even the thick crane arms of heavy-lifting rigs melted under the onslaught.
Inside the shipyard were mostly shipbuilders, engineers, and dock superintendents—long-term residents who lived and worked here. They scrambled to escape in space construction vehicles and exoskeleton cargo suits. To them, it was a scene straight out of the apocalypse—a rogue battlecruiser tearing through their work zone unchecked, while the Federation Navy slumbered and looked the other way.
Transport ships and planetary-drop shuttles streamed out from the internal hangars of the Norad II. Tychus, unable to wait, had already disembarked, while Kerrigan remained faithfully at Augustus’s side, guarding against any unexpected threat.
Among the hundreds of drydocks were partially assembled warships—some with their freshly cooled keels still gleaming, armored plates stacked neatly on either side. The Norad II’s onboard AI was systematically locking onto every completed battlecruiser in the docks. Those were Augustus’s true objective.
“Scans show six completed behemoth-class battlecruisers docked in Bay A,” reported the Umojan advisor, tapping across the control panel beneath the main screen. “There are seventeen more still under construction.”
“Target those unfinished ships,” Augustus ordered, his tone firm though not without regret. “Destroy them.”
...
Outside the porthole unfolded a dazzling spectacle of intertwining light and darkness. The Norad II had all its anti-air and anti-ground laser batteries, along with its bow-mounted electromagnetic railguns, firing at full capacity.
The barrage of orange-red laser beams poured down around the ship and onto the massive docks and foundries several kilometers below. Each electromagnetic-accelerated kinetic shell ignited a thunderous explosion, scorching the surface with devastating force.
Amid the roar of artillery fire, everything was treated the same. Whether it was the automated defense turrets forged from refined steel or the Terran soldiers desperately trying to bring down a Dominion flagship with Gauss rifles and rocket launchers—whether metal or flesh—all melted and burned under the relentless assault of the laser weapons.
The inner ring of the Dylarian Shipyards was an expansive cavern of steel frameworks and alloy decks. Its spherical walls were lined with tunnel openings, each leading to a major dock or a warship’s berth. Signal lights marked each tunnel like evenly spaced entrances to the nesting chambers of cave-dwelling birds.
From time to time, fighter craft streaked past the Norad II at breakneck speeds, soaring toward the outer perimeter. Revolutionist fighters from Korhal clashed with Dominion interceptors in close pursuit, weaving through the interior of the orbital shipyard like dancing blades.
Brilliant flashes of light burst against the backdrop of deafening explosions. Huge gashes and dark scorch marks marred the dark-gray coating of the shipyard’s curved inner surface.
“Lieutenant Colonel Raynor has secured the primary facilities at Dock B. Our navigators have taken control of six Behemoth-class battlecruisers,” reported Augustus's Umojan military advisor.
“Colonel Warfield’s Iron Justice encountered a swarm of Confederate Wraiths.” The advisor’s words came rapid-fire, yet every sentence was delivered with perfect clarity. “But his troops managed to force a landing at Dock D. Progress is going smoothly. The defending forces within the Dylarian Shipyards are collapsing.”
“Relay this to all commanders: finish the fight quickly. Seize as many usable warships as possible. Anything that remains—even newly minted vessels—must be destroyed on the spot,” Augustus ordered.
“Until then, plunder without restraint. Leave no functional weapons behind for our enemies. If we do, the Confederacy will use them against your families!” he added coldly. “But mark my words—unless absolutely necessary, do not open fire on workers or civilians.”
Augustus’s voice was calm as ever. In the past, there had been traces of joy, anger, or sorrow in his tone. But now, his subordinates could sense only one thing beneath his words—unshakable resolve. Everyone understood: when Augustus Mengsk gave an order, it was not to be questioned.
Only the Ghost operative Sarah Kerrigan, stationed at Augustus’s side, could sense the other emotions hidden beneath his hardened exterior. The red-haired Ghost reached out, wanting to grasp his hand, to gently squeeze his fingers. But in the end, she refrained. She simply laced her fingers together in silence.
