Horace Warfield

Chapter 18: Horace Warfield

The late-night street racers of Braddock finally faced the consequences of their actions.

The military police responded with remarkable speed and efficiency, establishing checkpoints at all four gates of Turaxis. Despite this, when Arcturus walked in brazenly with a group of marines, they nearly managed to slip through unnoticed.

It was only after being thrown into the detention cell that Arcturus learned from a military policeman that, in order to catch any stragglers, the military had installed personal information collection terminals at the entrance and inside every bar in Braddock, recording the facial recognition data of everyone present.

Every soldier in the Bloody Mary bar had been trapped from the very beginning, but at least this experience would serve as a bragging point for Arcturus and his racing crew to share with others.

Due to the theft of the Vulture bikes, the detention time for Arcturus and his group was extended to a week. However, Arcturus knew the military police could hold them for at most two more days; the frontline units, desperate for fresh recruits, would not allow them to take a comfortable five-day vacation.

"Marks! Move your foot!"

Arcturus and the other nine men in his squad were crammed into the same small detention cell, forced to sleep on a concrete floor covered with hard wooden planks. Since they weren't actually on vacation, they had neither food nor a place to bathe all night, left to sleep in their damp clothes.

If that weren't enough, the first platoon of the second company had to share a single, exposed flush toilet.

"Don't blame me; go ask the jailers why they didn't make this place more spacious," Zander Marks retorted at an even higher volume.

"I don't care whose fault it is, move it!" Benjamin Crando's face turned iron-blue. He was wedged between Zander Marks, Tom Omo, and Ilya Kurovsky, his larger and more muscular frame unable to move. Although Benjamin had once been a monk at a monastery back home, his temper was far worse than the others.

"Damn it, we aren't criminals!" Arland Londerstein complained.

Arcturus, awakened by the commotion, checked the time on his watch: "If you need to piss, do it quickly. The visitors are coming soon; don't be standing there with your pants down in front of guests."

"Hold it if you need to shit," Raynor added. "Gentlemen, keep it steady when you go; don't spill it on the floor."

The detention cell had originally been an armory. Now, the weapons and armored vehicles had been cleared out, and the space was divided into roofless cubicles by metal partitions to hold unruly soldiers and criminals. Above Arcturus and the others loomed the high, vaulted ceiling of the armory.

The only light source was the sunlight filtering through vents and windows; the emergency lights in the detention cell only turned on under specific circumstances.

The north and south walls each had a three-foot-wide fingerprint-locked door. The top third of these doors was made of highly transparent tempered glass, meaning the view from outside to inside was completely unobstructed, and the same was true from the inside looking out.

As Arcturus looked toward the southern door, he suddenly saw a flickering shadow—it was a military policeman in a black uniform.

"Is that Hank and Josephine?" Jim Raynor, standing beside Arcturus, noticed it too, though he clearly didn't believe his own words. "Knowing those two, they must be dead drunk right now. They won't realize we were all rounded up by the military police until they return to the barracks tonight, and then they'll probably just go back to sleep without a care in the world."

The fingerprint door opened, but the person who entered was not the military policeman; it was an officer in marine uniform. The silver vertical bars on his shoulders indicated he was a lieutenant.

The lieutenant had a sharp, lean, and dark-complexioned face, marked by the wear and tear of wind, sun, and extreme environments. He wore a short mustache and had a buzz cut with black hair.

"You are Arcturus Mengsk?" The lieutenant pursed his broad lips, staring into Arcturus's cold gray eyes. The soldier possessed a grim, solemn air that could only be honed by experiencing war and death. Although Arcturus judged the officer to be no more than thirty, the playfulness and frivolity of youth were long gone.

"I am." Arcturus met the lieutenant's gaze without backing down.

"I am Horace Warfield, commander of the 1st Company, 5th Battalion, 14th Regiment, 33rd Ground Assault Division." A smile flickered across the lieutenant's steel-like, stagnant face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The name reminded Arcturus of the old Terran Dominion general who died in the Heart of the Swarm campaign. He tried to reconcile the image in his memory with this young officer, but soon gave up.

"It's Arcturus's division," Arcturus suddenly realized.

"That's right, your brother's," Warfield nodded and continued: "According to the reinforcement notice issued by the division command center, starting today, your recruit platoon is officially assigned to the 33rd Assault Division."

"Sir, I assume this means the military police at the Turaxis main base can no longer hold us," Arcturus said.

"That's why I came here early to collect you," Warfield didn't offer Arcturus a friendly look. "Kid, this isn't something to be proud of."

"At least I wrote four apology letters," Arcturus shrugged.

Arcturus then woke up the few guys who were still fast asleep and followed Warfield out of the detention cell. Though they didn't know what was happening, the dazed recruits were overjoyed to be released.

Facing the stern Lieutenant Warfield, the recruits were smart enough not to ask if they could continue their vacation.

Warfield's "Sabre" command vehicle was parked at the entrance of the armory. Although the vehicle was spacious, squeezing in ten people, including Warfield's adjutant, was a bit of a stretch. Fortunately, Harnack Hank wasn't there, so no one complained.

"You drive, head to the starship launch port," Warfield told Arcturus. "I heard from the MPs that your driving skills aren't bad."

"I'd be happy to try out the command vehicle, sir." Arcturus sat in the driver's seat with practiced ease, showing no restraint. Driving this model was a piece of cake for him, and the pre-set satellite navigation would tell him exactly where to go.

"If you aren't afraid of me driving it into a ditch."

"Heh—you'd better not," Warfield said, sitting in the passenger seat with a smile. Perhaps because Warfield had once been a recruit under Arcturus's brother, Arcturus Mengsk, and because his initial impression was quite good, he appeared quite easygoing in front of Arcturus.

"I remember the last time Arcturus wrote to me, the address was still on the planet Onuru Sigma," Arcturus mentioned his brother as the engine started.

"That was last month," Warfield replied. "The Kel-Morians have withdrawn from the Sigma system, so we were ordered here as reinforcements."

"That's a good sign; the Kel-Morians are finished," Arcturus said while driving.

"I hope the war ends by next year at the latest," Warfield said.

"I think that's achievable," Arcturus nodded.

Both men fell silent. Arcturus drove the command vehicle toward the boarding platform of the Turaxis main base. Along the way, he saw many troop transport trucks loaded with soldiers and company after company of Goliath combat robots. The unit designations and insignias were completely unfamiliar to him.

Meanwhile, in the distance, as far as the eye could see, a massive battlecruiser was slowly emerging from the clouds, casting a huge, moving shadow across the horizon.

"Sir, two of my soldiers are still left in Braddock," Arcturus suddenly remembered the two guys he had almost forgotten.

"Specific location?" Warfield frowned.

Arcturus named a strip club.

Thanks to Cough-to-Death, Xia Juan Qiu Fa, Book-loving Alimu, Clement001, and zerostart for the monthly tickets. Thank you for your support.