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SCL Chapter 111: Ghosts, Guns, and Purple Snot
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 01:21:50 +0000 UTCIn the next several minutes, over a comm channel filled with overlapping voices and brief silences, Raynor piloted the jam-packed Little Devil transport toward the eye of the storm.
Following him were fifteen refitted scout ships, carrying over 400 personnel in total. Among them was one scout carrying Sarah Kerrigan and a full-strength anti-psionic squad temporarily under her command—the Styrling Strikers—equipped with EMP rounds and psionic disruption nets.
This advanced anti-psionic technology had all come from the Umojans, and without a doubt, it was only the tip of the iceberg of their technological capabilities.
All ships in this Revolutionary Army fleet were painted the same dark gray and black scheme as the Heaven’s Devils. Their prows bore a hooded skull insignia, bearing no resemblance to the symbols of the Korhal Revolutionary Army. To the Federation, at first glance, this cobbled-together fleet likely appeared to be space pirates.
As Augustus watched the storm’s eye on the screen and the images being relayed back from the lead ships, the first tank of the Revolutionary Army emerged from the storm’s center. A complex of low, gray alloy buildings came into view before the tank crew.
Between the complex and the storm lay barbed wire and shallow trenches. Near the buildings were several bunkers and anti-aircraft batteries. Through the tanks’ internal 3D terrain projection and thermal imaging systems, the drivers could see Federation marines rushing toward their bunkers and cover with full urgency.
“We’ve reached the Victor V Fujita Pinnacle Military Base—God—this looks more like a research facility than a military outpost,” Niccolòmei’s voice came through more clearly now, as signal quality improved.
Just months ago, this native of Styrling was still a maglev train conductor. But under the influence of his wife—an ardent supporter of the revolutionary cause—the thirty-year-old had resolved to fight for Korhal’s new leader and the future he promised.
Gunnery Sergeant Niccolòmei immediately gave the order to attack. With a sharp hiss from the hydraulic systems, the AVV-5 Arclite tanks deployed their stabilizers and entered siege mode, launching long-range bombardment from a distance of over one kilometer. In the first salvo, their 120 mm impact cannons leveled two bunkers. Anti-aircraft emplacements and distant missile towers collapsed under the thunderous barrage.
With the support of stabilizers and the gravity accelerators installed by Swann, the Arclite tanks transformed into stationary artillery platforms with extended range. A fully deployed Arclite tank battalion could obliterate any enemy position or fortress in mere moments.
After the second volley, the Revolutionary Army’s Arclite tanks retracted their stabilizers as ordered by Augustus and began pulling back into the storm.
The comms channel burst into static and voices again: “Watson’s tank is down! It won’t move!”
“Keep pushing forward—don’t look back!”
Tank after tank stalled during the retreat. Their systems were completely disabled. Augustus knew exactly what was happening—cloaked Federation Ghost operatives had caught up with them, using specialized electromagnetic lock rounds to reduce the tanks to immobile hulks of scrap.
Fortunately, the Ghosts still couldn't breach the Arclite’s armor, but Augustus could only imagine the terror inside those cockpits. The tanks were stranded in the open field, their crews trapped inside motionless steel coffins, not knowing if the next moment would be their last.
“Jim, prepare for landing,” Augustus ordered immediately after receiving the report from the tank units. “Make it fast.”
The landing flotilla dove through the raging storm from above, the comms channel filled with piercing howls of wind.
These scout ships—civilians refitted for war—dropped like falling leaves in the storm. Within minutes, three of them lost contact with the flagship, including both scouts and transports. Augustus couldn’t tell if they’d been shot down or shredded by the storm, but either way, it meant dozens of brave Revolutionary soldiers were gone.
The landing channel became a chaotic mess. Augustus had no way of knowing what was happening below.
Strangers were killing each other.
After a long, silent wait of over ten minutes, Tychus finally brought good news: “We’ve taken this godforsaken dump. But let me tell you, it’s crawling with high-end tech gear and some rare crystal veins that look like they’re worth a fortune—oh yeah, and ol’ Tychus wants his cut.”
“Oh—and guess what poor Jim found. These scientists were researching some gooey purple snot. I’m talking layers of security, hundreds of precision instruments, all for a pile of slime. I thought they were working on alchemy.”
“Say that again! What did you find?” Augustus’s voice was noticeably louder.
“Poor ol’ Jim and some disgusting purple snot. Hell, it even moves,” Tychus replied.
“That’s just revolting.”
...
The battle at the center of the storm lasted for about two hours. Fewer than a hundred Federal defenders fought with astonishing tenacity against Revolutionary troops that outnumbered them several times over. The Revolution paid a steep price.
These Federal soldiers had undoubtedly undergone resocialization; even when their legs were blown off by Arclite Tank shells, they endured the blood loss and pain—enough to send an ordinary person into shock—and kept resisting.
Even so, what truly troubled the Revolutionary forces were the unknown number of Ghost operatives hidden throughout. These agents could lurk like phantoms in any corner.
But the once-secret eye of the tornado had become a sealed prison. Psionic abilities could not protect the Ghosts from being shredded by the high-speed winds mixed with sand and sharp debris when they stepped into the storm.
Roughly 120 Styrling Striker troops—an anti-psionic unit of the Revolutionaries—divided into twelve squads and swept through the eye of the storm in a grid pattern to root out the Ghosts. Their powered armor, equipped with psionic dampeners, effectively shielded their brains.
Only after the Ghost operatives had been largely eliminated or captured did Augustus descend aboard a mid-sized transport vessel, landing at the site known as the Fujita Pinnacle Research Facility—a place, contrary to what Kerrigan’s unwavering memories suggested, that was not a military base.
The research facility was a standard alloy structure assembled from modular airdropped panels. Its flattened design gave the impression of stacked, interlocking steps.
Clad in powered armor and surrounded by his protective escort, Augustus approached the research facility’s blown-out main gate. A straight corridor lay ahead, lined with single-colored stripes and minimal warning signs.
All around them, Revolutionary troops were cleaning up the battlefield. With limited resources, the Revolution had no choice but to recover powered armor, weapons, and ammunition from both friend and foe.
“You look awful,” Sarah Kerrigan said as she approached Augustus, just as he was about to enter the facility. Several blood-soaked Ghost operatives were slung over the backs of the Striker troops following her.
"You're thinking something terrible... something truly dark," she said.
“So, tell me,” Kerrigan asked, “what exactly did you see?”
"Human extinction," Augustus replied, his voice low. Kerrigan’s pale green eyes locked onto his without blinking. “But the question is—why?”
“Then let’s go see it for ourselves,” Augustus said. “Let’s uncover the truth that’s been hidden. Then you’ll understand why this place needed so many Ghost operatives.”
The Revolutionary soldiers followed in silence as the group made its way through corridor after corridor, past wide, sterile laboratories, until finally stopping in an observation room. One wall of the room had been replaced with transparent glass. On the other side stood Raynor and Tychus, flanked by several Revolutionary soldiers, awaiting Augustus’s arrival.
“Where’s the lead scientist for this facility?” Augustus asked the moment he spotted them.
“Right here,” Tychus said, dragging a man toward him like one might haul a stray cat. The man wore a white, dust-free lab coat. His ID badge hanging from his chest identified him as a doctoral researcher named Flanx, from the Department of Biological Studies at Tarsonis University.
“This is so moving. I heard you were here to overthrow the Federal regime. Holy Mary, you’ve saved me!” the doctor exclaimed, trying to shake Augustus’s hand. But the moment he extended it, Kerrigan intercepted.
Dr. Flanx didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed. On the surface, he looked genuinely thrilled. A somewhat hunched middle-aged man, he had thin, long brown hair and sharp black eyes hidden beneath thick glasses.
“If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have spent the rest of my life trapped in this place. I was giving a lecture at Tarsonis University, presenting my research on xenomorphic physiology. Just as the lecture ended, I blacked out. Next thing I knew, I was here. The military bastards even made me strip naked for inspection...” He spoke without pause.
“Good,” Augustus interrupted before the doctor could go on. “You’re one of us now. Before long, the entire Koprulu Sector will know that you’re fighting for justice and freedom.”
Dr. Flanx visibly deflated, like a balloon leaking air.
“My dear revolutionary comrade, Dr. Flanx,” Augustus said, gesturing toward the smear of purple substance clinging to the observation window, “can you tell me exactly what that is?”
This was no bright violet, but rather a deep, nearly black shade of purple. It coated almost the entire wall of glass, resembling a pulsating gel with vein-like structures running across its surface—slithering like a slug pressed against the pane, inching forward as if it were alive.
In the ten or so seconds Augustus stared at it, the dark purple mass seemed to grow, its sticky, tendril-like appendages extending to claim even more of the window.
“It’s a living biological mat composed of organic material, containing protease enzymes and self-replicating cells,” the doctor answered.
“And it—or they—where did it come from?” Augustus pressed on.
“Two years ago. It was first discovered on a few outer rim colony planets in the Koprulu Sector,” Flanx said. “There were also sightings of extremely aggressive xenomorphic organisms. Although their appearances varied, genetic sequencing revealed that their DNA shared an extremely high similarity—suggesting they’re likely subspecies of a single race.”
“So you were part of the initial investigation?” Augustus asked, locking eyes with him.
“At the time, I was just a peripheral assistant, handling experimental materials. I knew nothing,” the doctor replied.
Then he dropped a bombshell.
“To suppress the information, the Federal government killed all witnesses—wiped out entire colonies.”
“How many of these xenomorphs were discovered?” Augustus asked.
At his subtle signal, Kerrigan began probing Flanx’s hidden thoughts and memories.
Augustus couldn’t help but think—if he could obtain evidence of this government-sanctioned extermination, it would further erode the Federation’s credibility beyond repair.
“Not many. And even fewer were captured alive,” Flanx said. “They’re utterly bloodthirsty. Like skinned wild dogs, covered in scars and lesions like lepers—serpentine abominations.”
“They attacked several colony towns. You can’t imagine the scenes—bodies half-eaten, strung up under rooftops to dry. Faces torn in half, pus-filled eyes still staring at you. People disemboweled while still alive—”
Despite the grotesque description, Augustus let out a slow breath of relief. Based on his assessment, these were likely advance scouting units of the Zerg swarm, which originated on Zerus, far beyond the borders of the Koprulu Sector. The main force had not yet arrived.
“And the Ghost operatives in this facility? Were they test subjects?” he asked one final question.
“Research indicates there’s a kind of resonance between these creatures and psionics,” the doctor replied. “They’re drawn to psionic individuals, and the effect is especially pronounced in those with extremely high PSI ratings.”
“We’ve been studying this anomaly, and it’s already led to some results. The people funding the project believe these xenomorphs could be weaponized.”
