"The giant-class cargo ship you wanted to modify is done. Now you can call it Giant-Class Escort Ship No. 1. Well, I’m guessing that’s what you’ll 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 tres long and 20 tres 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. So open panels in the bulkhead revealed a tangle of multicolored wires coiled like a nest of snakes. The sluggish air was thick with the sll 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 imdiately felt cramped. Even in front of the panoramic windows—designed for battlefield oversight—there was hardly enough room for more than a few people.
The Hyperion docked in the Umoja orbital shipyard wouldn’t 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 flas as she moved.
"Swann, anything new in the design? I know you’re a genius."
"Thanks, but you don’t have to complint nine tis 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 won’t have to worry about propulsion anymore," said Augustus. "What about weapons systems? I already saw you reinforced the ship’s 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, we’ll need manual labor to push the torpedoes out of the airlock—and in a pinch, soone might even have to smack one with a hamr 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? That’s a breakthrough," Augustus said, eyes lighting up.
"It’s not actually that hard," Swann said with a shrug. "The trick is being willing to spend the money. Speaking of which—Boss, shouldn’t the Korhal Weapons Research Institute get another budget bump? New weapons R&D doesn’t fund itself."
"You’ll get your budget," Augustus replied, raising his voice slightly. "But we’ll discuss that later."
Right now, all of Korhal was burning through money—fortresses on the ground, orbital defense platforms, anti-air missile arrays, governnt departnts, fleet maintenance, army logistics—it never stopped. And on top of all that, millions of mouths needed to be fed by the new governnt.
The tax revenue alone had long since fallen short. If not for the wealthy and generous Umojan governnt providing massive war loans at low interest, Angus would’ve already hanged himself.
The Umojans were extrely 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. That’s why they were going all-in with their support.
The funds Augustus scraped together in the army wouldn’t even cover installing a shower on the Hyperion. At monts like this, he couldn’t help but miss his brother Arcturus, who was still mining sowhere 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 funds—that alone counted as investing in Arcturus’s 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 battlecruiser—do you have any ideas?" Augustus asked.
"Using the battlecruiser’s nuclear reactor as the power source, and channeling a controlled nuclear explosion into a focused beam via strong magnetic fields... I an, that’s one crazy concept," Swann said. "Sotis I wonder if your intelligence departnt made a mistake. Maybe the Federation’s 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 wouldn’t understand it... because I sure as hell don’t," he added.
"In short: easy to say, hard to do."
"Then let’s wait for the Federation to succeed first, and we’ll get our hands on the blueprints afterward." Augustus had never held high hopes for the newly ford weapons research institute. Even though it was staffed with talent he’d 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 didn’t 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 I’m worried those crafty Umojans will ditch us and go solo."
"But really, we don’t even have a battlecruiser, so I don’t know why you’re stressing over this," the hot-headed man from inhoff 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 tres. These recon ships are fitted with small laser cannons, but their damage is... well, disappointing. When those beams hit a battlecruiser’s armor, it’s like giving it a tickle," Swann gestured.
"Biubiubiu—yeah... sothing like that."
"So 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, Augustus’s 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 wasn’t easy. Sonic baths could remove dead skin and gri, but they didn’t do much against greasy hair. Lately, Raynor had simply preferred to shave his head clean.
Behind him ca the towering Tychus, who looked like he barely fit inside the tight passageway.
"Hey there, sweetheart," Swann greeted. "Morning."
"Oh—look at the size of that guy."
"Tychus?"
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 didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 ant to be discouraged. The guy was bursting with boundless vigor.
"What are you doing here? I heard you recently led a mob of revolutionaries to raid a senator’s house, confiscated all his properties for the public good, and then moved into his seaside villa near the Pan-Ocean. So tell —weren’t you enjoying life? What brought you here?"
"Serving the people—and getting a al while I’m at it." Tychus lit a cigar and replied with a leisurely air. "A perfectly reasonable line of thought."
"People say Old Tychus has a heart of gold. Sotis, even a scoundrel like can yearn for the light."
"I heard Raynor’s fleet is about to set sail," he added. "I’m pretty good at looting and pillaging, you know."
"Why aren’t you in uniform?" Augustus frowned at Tychus’s loud floral shorts.
"Why don’t you go ask the clowns at the Revolutionary Army’s quartermaster’s office why they never bothered to get shirts or pants in my size?" Tychus grumbled.
"This is my fleet commander, Jim Raynor," 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. "He’s a good kid."
"I’m Jim. I’m pretty good at driving—boats, cars, you na it," Raynor introduced himself.
"And that," Augustus gestured at Tychus again, "is Mr. Tychus Findlay. He’s a scoundrel in the traditional sense of the word. Just a friendly warning—ladies, keep your distance. Gentlen, watch your backs."
"You wound , truly," Tychus said, tugging at his baggy shorts that looked like they were about to fall off at any mont.
At that mont, Tychus noticed the Ghost operative standing behind Augustus—Sarah Kerrigan. Out of instinct, his professional eye imdiately appraised her and ntally noted: ’Damn, that’s one fine ass.’
In fairness, it was a reflex.
Old Tychus did have a sense of boundaries. He knew which won were off-limits. Otherwise, his filthy little mind would’ve already been undressing her in vivid detail.
"Oh, for heaven’s sake—what the hell goes on in that brain of yours?" Sarah Kerrigan shot him a glare before turning to shake Raynor’s hand with a friendly smile.
"Damn it, I forgot she’s a telepath," Tychus muttered, the deep wrinkles on his face twisting in frustration. "Heard they can ss with your bladder, make dumbasses piss like dogs. I hate witches."
"ngsk, you gotta give a job." Unbothered by any embarrassnt, Tychus walked right up to Augustus. "I’m not asking for much—just make the captain of a frigate. You know how I get in a fight—always rock hard."
"But I do want an advance—one year’s salary. If you want to give a raise later, that’s a separate negotiation."
"No problem," Augustus replied. "I’ll also assign you a unit of Styrling’s Wolfhunters as an assault squad. You’ll have to hire the rest yourself—governnt will cover the cost."
"You serious? Those guys are top-tier." Tychus grinned. "Deal."
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