TitoVillar
patreon
SCL Chapter 132: A World Already Burning
🕑 Added 2025-06-26 22:19:46 +0000 UTC“Let’s begin,” said Angus Mengsk. His thick gray eyebrows furrowed, and his expression was as severe as steel. “This will be our final meeting on Korhal IV. It’s been exactly 48 standard Earth hours since the last expedition fleet broke free from the star’s gravitational pull.”
Angus swept his eyes around the room and gave a respectful nod to the assembled officials and officers. “This isn’t a session of the Korhal Senate. I’ve called you, the generals of the Revolutionary Army, not to debate some dull motion, but to deliver bad news to each and every one of you: half an hour ago, the Kel-Morian Combine and the Terran Dominion completed all formal steps and procedures of negotiation—they’ve signed the final peace treaty.”
“The peace treaty takes effect immediately. It will remain in force for twenty years.”
“The legal representative of the Kel-Morian Mining Combine told us they did everything they could to stall,” Angus said, shaking his head. “The Terran Dominion’s diplomats were relentless—pressing hard, even offering limited concessions. Perhaps, ironically, it's because of us that the Kel-Morians managed to hold on to a few more of their barren mining worlds.”
“The Dominion fleet is coming.”
Lisa felt her chest tighten. That day had finally come. During the tense month-long evacuation, many of the Korhalans who remained planetside hadn’t dared to sleep, haunted by fear of the coming catastrophe.
Treasury Secretary Leville Henry sighed. “The propaganda campaign worked well. Editors and journalists secretly working for the August Intelligence Directorate within UNN gave us a trove of incriminating evidence—federal officials involved in corruption, abuse of power. And yet, a month has passed, and the Dominion Parliament’s spokesperson still hasn’t said a word about their potential use of Apocalypse-class nuclear warheads to destroy Korhal.”
At first, the Terran Dominion had gone to great lengths to suppress news of the open rebellion on Korhal IV. But even so, the planet’s declaration of independence spread swiftly—faster and further than the Dominion elite had imagined—and to their shock and fury, the news continued to ripple through the entire sector.
Gradually, even those least concerned with politics were talking about Korhal. Speculation about what the Dominion was trying to hide echoed through streets and alleys.
And people across the stars began to believe one common truth: the situation must be far worse than what little had leaked out. Korhal IV couldn’t possibly be the only world in revolt. And the Dominion Marine Corps and Navy must have utterly botched their response—otherwise, the official story would be about how swiftly and decisively the rebellion had been crushed.
After the UNN broadcast exposed the scandal of the Dominion Parliament to every corner of Terran space, public excitement soared. Many were convinced the revolution on Korhal IV had succeeded so thoroughly that the Dominion now saw nuclear annihilation as its only option. Supporters of Korhal began to protest. Public figures condemned the Dominion’s brutality in droves. On several worlds—including Antiga Prime—new uprisings erupted.
From ordinary citizens on frontier worlds to colonial governors and the billion-credit suits in their executive offices, everyone was saying the same few names:
Korhal. Angus. The Mengsk family. The Rebellion.
In the early days, even Angus Mengsk had grown overly optimistic, encouraged by the wave of favorable public opinion. He had dared to believe the Dominion might hesitate, might refrain from launching nuclear weapons.
But that optimism had not lasted long. The Dominion Parliament had never promised anything—not a pledge, not a statement, not even a whisper—about holding back its apocalyptic arsenal.
Some sympathetic leaders from the Old Families on Tarsonis and members of the Dominion Parliament had privately told Angus that Andrea of House Tygore—and the sizable group of nobles around her—would never reverse a resolution already passed. The hearts of the aristocracy, they said, were colder than glaciers that never melt.
“Hoping to sway the Dominion Parliament with public opinion is nearly impossible,” said Angus. “Do you really think the Old Families would change their minds for the sake of civilians they couldn’t care less about? I know how the highborn think—I was once one of them. They are proud, indifferent, and utterly incapable of admitting failure in anything they do.”
“Prepare for war. I don’t need to say more than that,” Angus continued. “The defense will begin in orbital space.”
“We’ve mobilized every resource we can,” said Secretary of Defense Harry Vield. “Thanks to round-the-clock labor on Umoja, and support from drone-assisted construction, two new high-altitude orbital defense platforms and a space-based weapons station have been completed. The missile towers on both satellites are capable of intercepting Dominion battlecruisers.”
Angus nodded in approval. “As I said before, this battle will not be meaningless. We had the chance to leave with the colonial fleet, but we chose to stay.”
“Because this might be the only chance to draw in and delay the Dominion fleet. Only then does Augustus’s First Fleet have a real shot at succeeding in the strike on the Dylarian Shipyards. Had the fleet not run into Alpha Squadron and been forced to refit and resupply, the odds of success would have been even higher.”
“And even now, we believe in him,” said Lundstein.
“He doesn’t fail,” Josephine added, calm as ever.
“Because he’s Augustus,” Lisa said, nodding earnestly. Though she still had her reservations about the young, red-haired woman who had recently appeared at Augustus’s side, that didn’t stop her from speaking in his favor.
“Colonel Lundstein, like you all, I have never doubted my son,” Angus said, and few had more right to say it. His confidence in Augustus matched that of any Heaven’s Devil.
“York, how many people still refuse to leave Korhal?”
“People from the Firthhold estate and the Icefield Tribe have refused to evacuate Korhal IV. Around 3,000 stayed behind in Normanhock—they’ve left the cities and set up tents and makeshift camps on the outskirts,” said the Director of the Korhal Immigration Bureau. “After tallying the data, the number comes to about 70,000. Some are elderly who simply can’t bear to leave their homeland. Others… are surrenderists.”
“Let them go,” Angus said after a moment of silence. “We’ve done everything we could.”
“How many troops and support personnel are still on the surface?” he asked next.
“Nineteen thousand,” the Director of the Immigration Bureau replied.
“Evacuate all personnel from Korhal,” Angus ordered. “Take whoever and whatever can be taken.”
“We can no longer remain on the surface.” Suddenly, Angus rose to his feet. An oppressive force seemed to radiate from him as his expression hardened. “Notify the guards. Prepare the shuttle to the orbital defense platform.”
“You can’t go to the front,” Lundstein said sharply. “You need to leave Korhal IV immediately.”
“Yes, a direct transport to Umoja is already prepped,” added the Minister of Transportation.
It became clear that everyone had conspired to keep Angus in the dark—determined to force him off Korhal. From beginning to end, only Angus himself had believed he would remain and fight alongside the Revolutionary Army.
Several officers moved to restrain him, trying to usher him toward the waiting ship—but that only unleashed his fury.
“You’re turning me into a coward!” he roared.
Angus tore free from their grasp with forceful defiance. “How can I abandon over a million Korhalan soldiers, only to go face their parents on Umoja?”
“If I die here on Korhal, I still have a son to carry on my cause. You think I’m just some politician who shouts empty slogans from the podium—but I was the one who personally sent those men and women into battle,” he said firmly.
“Don’t try to persuade me again. My decision will never change.”
Just as Angus was about to speak further, a holographic screen suddenly lit up on the council table. It showed a marine sergeant of the Korhal Revolutionary Army. He was the commander of a remote outpost stationed on a barren planet at the edge of the Korhal system.
“We’ve detected spatial disturbances consistent with hyperspace jumps—”
The transmission was cut off by an explosion—static, smoke, and a thunderous blast. No one needed an explanation. Everyone in the room already knew what had just happened.
Lisa stood up along with the others.
“Oh God…” she whispered.
“So soon?” the Minister of Transportation gasped in disbelief. “It should take at least a week to travel from the outer rim to Korhal.”
“You’re naïve—and it’s almost impressive,” Josephine said with a biting edge. “We’re not dealing with a neatly scheduled train timetable.”
“This is likely the vanguard of the Dominion fleet,” Angus said. “They must have departed a week or two ahead of the main force. They don’t care if it spreads their forces thin or gives away their intentions.”
Harnack stood, throwing on his military overcoat, and summed it up with chilling clarity: “Because to them, this is nothing more than stepping on an ant.”
