"Heh, Little Jimmy, don't get worked up."

Leon caught the fleeting uncertainty in Jim Raynor's eyes.

The Raynor's Raiders leader's gaze shifted between the hologram and the view outside, but neither Leon nor Mike showed a trace of impatience.

They had seen too many soldiers struggling to survive between warring sides. His hesitation was nothing more than an echo of his survival instinct.

"Maybe we could try this another way."

Leon put away the hologram. His tone was as calm as if he were discussing Mar Sara's usual dust storms, not an alliance that might reshape the sector.

"First, we join forces to clear out the Terran Dominion remnants on Mar Sara and establish evacuation routes for civilians." He pointed outside. "Your Raynor's Raiders, Mike and me, and the Giants—the Flame Salamanders squad—waiting out there."

Mike caught on at once. "Call it a trial run. See whether we're really bastards like Mengsk."

Raynor stared at them for several seconds—

"Hah!"

He suddenly burst out laughing and pulled a crumpled cigar from his pocket.

The click of an old-fashioned lighter broke the silence. Its orange flame lit the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, while the rich scent of burning tobacco mingled with the smell of whiskey.

"Whew."

A silver-gray smoke ring slipped between his teeth and formed a hazy Halo above his head.

"All right, cowboys." The Raynor's Raiders commander pushed himself up from the table. "Let's see what you can do."

The three of them pushed open the bar's battered door to a scene with an absurdly theatrical air.

More than twenty Raynor's Raiders in blue CMC Power Armor faced off tensely against six Flame Salamanders.

The sight was almost comical.

Even in CMC Power Armor, the Raynor's Raiders reached only the Flame Salamanders' necks or chest plates.

One young soldier's Gauss Rifle—the StarCraft model—trembled