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SCL Chapter 108: A New Ship, A New Mess
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 01:27:26 +0000 UTC"The giant-class cargo ship you wanted me to modify is done. Now you can call it Giant-Class Escort Ship No. 1. Well, I'm guessing thatâs what youâll call it, right?"
Inside the cramped bridge, Rory Swann, dressed in an orange-gray work uniform, holding a toolbox in one hand and gesturing with the other, pointed toward the overhead cables and a control console. He said to Augustus, "This ship is 128 metres long and 20 metres wide. It's a mid-sized freighter. The lower deck up to the main beam houses a cargo bay that can be partitioned into a lot of new rooms. If you insist on cramming people in, it can carry about a thousand."
The lighting fixture on the bridge ceiling was like an intensely bright white orb, illuminating every corner of the bridge and the control consoles snaking with cables. Some open panels in the bulkhead revealed a tangle of multicolored wires coiled like a nest of snakes. The sluggish air was thick with the smell of lubricant and sweat.
The bridge of this ship was far less spacious than that of a battlecruiser, with only a few pilot seats facing the forward viewport. When Augustus and Sarah Kerrigan entered the bridge with over a dozen elite guards, the space immediately felt cramped. Even in front of the panoramic windowsâdesigned for battlefield oversightâthere was hardly enough room for more than a few people.
The Hyperion docked in the Umoja orbital shipyard wouldnât be repaired until next month at the earliest. Until then, this refitted starfreighter was the largest warship Augustus had. And he had no choice but to accept the rather pitiful fact that this ship would serve as the flagship of the Korhal Revolutionary Fleet.
While Augustus took a sweeping look at the layout of the bridge, Sarah Kerrigan, wearing a dark gray Revolutionary Army uniform adorned with a golden wolf insignia, began her usual inspection of the ship's interior. Slung across her shoulder was a C-10 rifle, and her fiery red hair, tied with a white ribbon, flowed behind her like flickering flames as she moved.
"Swann, anything new in the design? I know youâre a genius."
"Thanks, but you donât have to compliment me nine times out of ten," Swann replied, his face smudged with grease. "I made a few minor upgrades. My team and I installed an extra Colossus engine and a new central reactor. With a warp engine maintained by a professional warp tech crew, you can burn through hyperspace lanes like a hotrod."
"Sounds like I wonât have to worry about propulsion anymore," said Augustus. "What about weapons systems? I already saw you reinforced the shipâs armor and added laser pulse cannons."
"Yep. There's a pair of ship-grade laser pulse cannons under the bridge, and each flank has a deployable missile hive. Besides that, this retrofitted vessel also carries a sizable number of small plasma torpedoes. Of course, due to certain retrofit limitations, weâll need manual labor to push the torpedoes out of the airlockâand in a pinch, someone might even have to smack one with a hammer to ignite it."
Swann turned to Augustus and added, "On top of the existing armor, I installed thicker plating and a lightweight energy matrix shield."
"Shield tech on a starship? Thatâs a breakthrough," Augustus said, eyes lighting up.
"Itâs not actually that hard," Swann said with a shrug. "The trick is being willing to spend the money. Speaking of whichâBoss, shouldnât the Korhal Weapons Research Institute get another budget bump? New weapons R&D doesnât fund itself."
"Youâll get your budget," Augustus replied, raising his voice slightly. "But weâll discuss that later."
Right now, all of Korhal was burning through moneyâfortresses on the ground, orbital defense platforms, anti-air missile arrays, government departments, fleet maintenance, army logisticsâit never stopped. And on top of all that, millions of mouths needed to be fed by the new government.
The tax revenue alone had long since fallen short. If not for the wealthy and generous Umojan government providing massive war loans at low interest, Angus wouldâve already hanged himself.
The Umojans were extremely shrewd. If the uprising on Korhal IV failed, then the next war in the Koprulu sector would inevitably be between the Terran Federation and Umoja. Thatâs why they were going all-in with their support.
The funds Augustus scraped together in the army wouldnât even cover installing a shower on the Hyperion. At moments like this, he couldnât help but miss his brother Arcturus, who was still mining somewhere on the fringes of the Koprulu sector.
Since they were brothers by blood, of course they had to support each other. After all, it was Augustus who initially provided part of the startup fundsâthat alone counted as investing in Arcturusâs mining operation.
"Then I can rest easy," Swann said, still unaware of the seriousness of the situation.
"Also, about the design for the new main cannon on the Behemoth-class battlecruiserâdo you have any ideas?" Augustus asked.
"Using the battlecruiserâs nuclear reactor as the power source, and channeling a controlled nuclear explosion into a focused beam via strong magnetic fields... I mean, thatâs one crazy concept," Swann said. "Sometimes I wonder if your intelligence department made a mistake. Maybe the Federationâs ship research institute just created a folder on their terminal to scam for funding."
"To constrain and concentrate a controlled nuclear blast like that, we'd need breakthroughs across multiple fields in materials science and engineering. If I explain it in detail, you probably wouldnât understand it... because I sure as hell donât," he added.
"In short: easy to say, hard to do."
"Then letâs wait for the Federation to succeed first, and weâll get our hands on the blueprints afterward." Augustus had never held high hopes for the newly formed weapons research institute. Even though it was staffed with talent heâd poached from various tech companies across Korhal, the reality was that the top minds in the Koprulu sector had always resided in Tarsonis and Umoja.
Augustus didnât really expect them to develop a classic Yamato Cannon before the Terran Federation did. But then again... what if?
"And what about the joint research project with the Umojans?" Augustus asked.
"Still negotiating. They seem very interested," Swann replied, his thick eyebrows and beard relaxing slightly. "But Iâm worried those crafty Umojans will ditch us and go solo."
"But really, we donât even have a battlecruiser, so I donât know why youâre stressing over this," the hot-headed man from Meinhoff shot back with a soul-piercing remark.
"...How many escort ships of this class do we even have?" Augustus took a hit to the gut.
"Three. And there are seventeen more undergoing retrofitting in shipyards across Korhal. We also have over fifty recon craft converted from civilian freighters, ranging in size from 10 to 50 metres. These recon ships are fitted with small laser cannons, but their damage is... well, disappointing. When those beams hit a battlecruiserâs armor, itâs like giving it a tickle," Swann gestured.
"Biubiubiuâyeah⊠something like that."
"Some mighty fleet we've got," Augustus sighed.
Just then, a familiar laugh echoed from the narrow corridor leading to the bridge. It was the unmistakable sound of Jim Raynor, Augustusâs fleet commander. Ever cheerful and ready for action, Raynor had clearly been itching for a fight.
"Good morning, my lovely friends," Raynor called, poking his freshly shaven head through the doorway.
Getting a proper hot shower on a warship wasnât easy. Sonic baths could remove dead skin and grime, but they didnât do much against greasy hair. Lately, Raynor had simply preferred to shave his head clean.
Behind him came the towering Tychus, who looked like he barely fit inside the tight passageway.
"Hey there, sweetheart," Swann greeted. "Morning."
"Ohâlook at the size of that guy."
âTychus?â
Augustus glanced at Tychus and saw the man dressed in a loose plaid shirt and a pair of beach shorts adorned with bright blue floral patterns. It didnât take a genius to figure out that this guy had been living it up on Korhal under the banner of the Revolutionary Army. Word on the street was that his favorite line was: "My dear friend, the Marshal of the Revolutionary Army."
As for Raynor, he wasnât exactly dressed formally either. A white shirt under a black vest, faded jeans with a holster at the hip. At just nineteen, his eyes sparkled with energy and optimism, as if he never knew what it meant to be discouraged. The guy was bursting with boundless vigor.
âWhat are you doing here? I heard you recently led a mob of revolutionaries to raid a senatorâs house, confiscated all his properties for the public good, and then moved into his seaside villa near the Pan-Ocean. So tell meâwerenât you enjoying life? What brought you here?â
âServing the peopleâand getting a meal while Iâm at it.â Tychus lit a cigar and replied with a leisurely air. âA perfectly reasonable line of thought.â
âPeople say Old Tychus has a heart of gold. Sometimes, even a scoundrel like me can yearn for the light.â
âI heard Raynorâs fleet is about to set sail,â he added. âIâm pretty good at looting and pillaging, you know.â
âWhy arenât you in uniform?â Augustus frowned at Tychusâs loud floral shorts.
âWhy donât you go ask the clowns at the Revolutionary Armyâs quartermasterâs office why they never bothered to get me shirts or pants in my size?â Tychus grumbled.
âThis is my fleet commander, Jim Raynor,â Augustus said, giving up on trying to reason with Tychus. Shaking his head, he turned to Swann, Kerrigan, and the others and pointed at the young man in the vest. âHeâs a good kid.â
âIâm Jim. Iâm pretty good at drivingâboats, cars, you name it,â Raynor introduced himself.
âAnd that,â Augustus gestured at Tychus again, âis Mr. Tychus Findlay. Heâs a scoundrel in the traditional sense of the word. Just a friendly warningâladies, keep your distance. Gentlemen, watch your backs.â
âYou wound me, truly,â Tychus said, tugging at his baggy shorts that looked like they were about to fall off at any moment.
At that moment, Tychus noticed the Ghost operative standing behind AugustusâSarah Kerrigan. Out of instinct, his professional eye immediately appraised her and mentally noted: 'Damn, thatâs one fine ass.'
In fairness, it was a reflex.
Old Tychus did have a sense of boundaries. He knew which women were off-limits. Otherwise, his filthy little mind wouldâve already been undressing her in vivid detail.
âOh, for heavenâs sakeâwhat the hell goes on in that brain of yours?â Sarah Kerrigan shot him a glare before turning to shake Raynorâs hand with a friendly smile.
âDamn it, I forgot sheâs a telepath,â Tychus muttered, the deep wrinkles on his face twisting in frustration. âHeard they can mess with your bladder, make dumbasses piss like dogs. I hate witches.â
âMengsk, you gotta give me a job.â Unbothered by any embarrassment, Tychus walked right up to Augustus. âIâm not asking for muchâjust make me the captain of a frigate. You know how I get in a fightâalways rock hard.â
âBut I do want an advanceâone yearâs salary. If you want to give me a raise later, thatâs a separate negotiation.â
âNo problem,â Augustus replied. âIâll also assign you a unit of Styrlingâs Wolfhunters as an assault squad. Youâll have to hire the rest yourselfâgovernment will cover the cost.â
âYou serious? Those guys are top-tier.â Tychus grinned. âDeal.â
