Koprulu War Chronicle

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Mike Liberty rushed over and pulled Donnie Mili, who was peering out the window, back down, pressing him against the window frame.

"That's the military, they use real guns and ammunition. Even a stray bullet could kill you," Mike growled, practically choking Donnie.

"They won't wait until they know who you are before they shoot!"

"What a pity, we missed a chance to make a name for ourselves. I bet you'll regret it for the rest of your uneventful life." Donnie's voice was so soft it sounded like it was being squeezed out between his teeth, becoming comically hoarse.

If it weren't for seeing Donny Mili's trembling legs, Mike would almost have thought he was a fearless brat.

"Give up. Unless we activate the backup generator in the basement, we won't be able to start the equipment in the studio. Then you'll have to find a daredevil film crew to follow a bunch of soldiers who are shooting at each other like their lives depend on it to complete the entire filming process."

Mike pulled Donnie back up, trying to drag him back to the vending machine, which saved his life.

Almost at the same time, with the roar of the Goliath's machine gun, a row of thick, translucent bullet holes appeared on the wall behind them. The bullets shattered the intricately carved limestone and the tiles inlaid with indigo glass, and the stained glass ceiling crashed down, the falling glass shards resembling sharp knives.

"Eek!" Before Mike could pull him back, Donnie, terrified, immediately darted out and ran quickly through the spacious lobby of the headquarters building.

"I thought you weren't afraid of death." Mike followed closely behind him.

It was now completely dark, and the lights, having lost their power supply, were no longer working, leaving everything pitch black. Mike struggled to step over the overturned chair and catch up with Donnie.

Doni ran for several minutes before rushing into a reading room for UNN employees to relax and enjoy themselves, plunging headfirst into the dense bookshelves.

"You! Who are you?" Unexpectedly, there were several people hiding in the reading room as well. They were also wearing the same uniforms with gold UNN logos on their clothes.

"I'm Donnie! That's right, the audience's favorite." Donnie was so nervous that he blurted out whatever came to mind, and it took him a while to realize that the person in front of him was one of his own.

"There are at least three Donnies here—but this kid doesn't seem like a threat. Everyone, come out." As Mike stepped into the reading room, a tall, thin man peeked out from under a flashlight. Several other people, all dressed in grey-blue uniforms, followed behind him.

To Mike's surprise, he recognized the man. The unforgettable mustache and comical center-parted hair immediately reminded him of one of Mike's colleagues.

At UNN headquarters, which has thousands of employees, this is a rare occurrence; many people don't even recognize their colleagues who worked on the same floor until they leave the company.

"Mark Piel! I thought you'd been transferred to Vilityia. I didn't expect to see you here." Mike greeted the man as he entered the reading room.

"Oh! Liberty, I almost thought you were gone after you offended the Titus Family last time. Turns out you're still alive! Did God grab your butt and throw you out of heaven?" The blond man with the center-parted hair excitedly hugged Mike, and while hugging, they both repeatedly checked to make sure they hadn't misremembered each other's faces.

"Old friend? Looks like you two know each other well." Donnie stood next to Mike, after all, the latter was the only person he knew here.

"Listen, I have absolutely no connection with this guy, I've barely even spoken a few words to him. In short, I don't think much of him, and he doesn't think much of me either." Suddenly, Mike pulled the bewildered Donnie aside and muttered to him in a low voice.

"A flamboyant circus clown, a laughable two-legged frog."

"I see," Donnie said, indicating that he understood.

"Piel is the best news anchor I've ever seen." Mike then led Donnie to Mark Piel, who was staring at him suspiciously.

"Occasionally, I'll dabble in war reporting." Piel waved behind him, and several UNN employees emerged from behind the tall bookshelves carrying large bags of equipment and backpacks. A small, spherical camera, shaped like an eyeball, hovered behind them.

This advanced drone camera, powered by a high-capacity battery, is intended for UNN journalists to use in the most treacherous areas of the Koprulu Sector. According to Mike, this camera can operate normally in Hurricane of 100 meters per second and towering waves several stories high, while its designers clearly didn't consider what human journalists would do.

"Alright, guys, now we're switching to a live report from the Battle of Tarsonis. I'm your old friend, Mark Piel, the only one you know the truth about." He flashed his signature smile at the camera hovering in mid-air.

"I will take you directly to the scene to witness the most thrilling and suspenseful battles taking place on the battlefield of the great Battle of Tarsonis. The great Federal Marine Corps are locked in a fierce battle against the Earth invaders, and the Confederacy's most courageous and powerful heroes are still fighting valiantly to protect the future of the people of Tarsonis!" He tightened his tie.

"This is probably the only live report, and it will definitely be a huge hit. The executive directors of UNN must promote us and give us a raise."

"Ahem, remember to cut this part out."

"Piel, this isn't the time to film a show." Mike felt his face twitching.

"Now is the time!" Piel's expression hardened. "Dude, don't get me into trouble—you troublemaker, you dung beetle who doesn't clean up after you've done your business."

After speaking, Piel turned to the floating camera. "I am Piel, and I am on the front lines, fighting alongside the brave and fearless Confederacy soldiers as always!"

"Guys, the sound of gunfire will soon be gone. I bet the war is almost over. Let's go get some firsthand information."

Led by Piel, a dozen or so UNN employees carrying various equipment jogged out of the reading room. These people included both men and women, all carrying various cables and backpacks. They were mostly lean and capable, with bright, piercing eyes.

"How do you know it wasn't Earthlings who won?" Mike tried to remind his colleague, with whom he didn't have a very good relationship.

"That's a good thing. Our new employers on Earth might be better able to stick to the eight-hour workday and regular holidays." Piel seemed quite enthusiastic. "I'd rather work for a better boss."

"Oh my god, I love Earthlings."

"I've heard of this Mark Piel; he was a UNN broadcaster back in the Guild Wars." As Piel and his men walked away, Donnie leaned over and whispered to Mike, "Back then, I could often see his evening broadcasts."

"That's right, though I'm reluctant to admit it, this guy is definitely capable," Mike said. "During the Guild Wars, Piel once charged alongside the Confederate Marine Corps wearing Power Armor and carrying a camera, and he ran faster than the sergeant with him."

"This bastard is incredibly daring; I suspect he enjoys the feeling of dancing on a tightrope."

"Piel is best known for interviewing the former Heaven's Devils hero squad," he explained. "According to him, he used to chat and laugh with Augustus Mengsk, Jim Raynor, and Tychus Finley."

"Dancing with wolves!" Donnie exclaimed. "Who would have thought that the heroes of that time would become the leaders of a treacherous rebel army?"

"What I know is a bit different from that. I heard that after Piel interviewed Augustus Mengsk, Tychus Finley grabbed him by the waistband and threw him out of the camp, and he actually had the nerve to show up again the next day," Mike said.

"Later, this idiot got into some trouble because his biased reporting on the rebels led to accusations of collusion with the rebels, and he almost got arrested and imprisoned by the Confederacy Intelligence Service," he said.

"If you ask Piel, he'll also tell you the story of how he once drank whiskey with that Augustus Mengsk."

It seems that everyone here has some connection with Augustus. Augustus actually be considered Mike's boss, and Piel once followed and interviewed this future Revolutionary Army Marshal, while Donny Mili didn't hold back in criticizing him.

"We UNN people, what right do we have to save face?" Doni wholeheartedly agreed.

"Should we go with him?"

"Let's go with him," Mike said. "Staying here isn't going to solve anything. I want to see what tricks he's up to this time."

Mike followed after him, while Donnie ran even faster and stood next to Piel, seemingly wanting to get some screen time as well. They navigated through numerous corridors, carefully searching for a way out of the dimly lit and deserted headquarters building.

So far, no soldiers from either side have attempted to enter the building, but any officer with strategic vision should not overlook the strategic importance of the UNN headquarters. It controls the main road to the Confederate Congress, and if someone could set up heavy artillery positions such as machine guns and electromagnetic cannons there, they could certainly inflict heavy casualties on the enemy.

"This is Mark Piel, reporting from the front lines. The Earthlings' offensive appears to have stalled; they've finally come to a halt before the Confederacy's impregnable fortress." Piel eventually reached the top of the stairs, his eyes glued to the camera as he walked, seemingly unconcerned about tripping.

"I'm Doni Mili, a special correspondent, reporting from the front lines with Mr. Piel." Doni tried to push Piel aside.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Piel roared angrily. "Don't cause trouble! UNN's audience doesn't know any Donnie."

"I'll be famous in Koprulu sooner or later." Doni's skin was incredibly thick.

"This is the very center of the battlefield! Making that much noise, the Earthlings will surely arrest you!" Piel pulled a cane from who-knows-where and slammed it into Donny's head. "You idiot, you're going to destroy everything!"

Suddenly, everyone was certain they heard footsteps and the sound of gun bolts being pulled back. Several soldiers in gray-white Power Armor rushed out of the stairwell with lightning speed. One of the officers raised his pistol and shattered the spherical camera hovering in mid-air with a single shot.

His Power Armor was clearly very different from that of the Confederate Marine Corps; its reactor cooling system was much smaller and lighter, and the armor plates were connected by thin, strong nanowires instead of the Confederacy armor's servo frame. He wore a cross-shaped helmet with a blue visor, and his head-mounted display showed various contracted geometric symbols and numbers.

Some of them wore white Power Armor, with injection guns mounted on the front of their arms, along with storage units for laser scalpels and automated suture devices. Their wall-mounted shields were decorated with red and white crosses, and the storage compartments beneath the shields contained nanomedical kits.

UED medic.

"You're right. Now, drop everything you're carrying and stand against the wall, you country bumpkins." The officer waved his hand, and more soldiers came in from behind.

"You're lucky to have run into me, and I need a few locals who know the terrain and 'translators.'" His voice was thick with accents and mixed with a lot of incomprehensible slang. Perhaps this man considered it an elegant, pure Solar System accent, but if someone like Edmond Duke heard it, he would surely call him a country bumpkin from the Edge World.

The regions were so far apart and so different that it sounded like another language.

Mike, standing behind, had no choice but to raise his hands along with his panicked colleagues—Earthlings are human beings, not Zerg, and at least they'd try to reason with you.

Then, through the searchlights on the Power Armor of these Earth soldiers, Mike could see the strange markings on their bodies. They were some kind of ancient runes, representing Luna, Earth's satellite (a colony of the United Earth Directorate).

"Lunars." Mike stammered.

He had some knowledge of Earth's history. Long before the ancestors of humans in the Koprulu Sector set off from Earth, Earthlings had established colonies on Earth's satellites. These new humans, living in artificial atmospheres and transformed ecological parks, remained loyal to Earth for centuries.

"Sir, we are just ordinary citizens of Tarsonis." Piel, while feeling sorry for his expensive photography equipment, raised his hands as instructed.

"No ordinary citizen would wander around the city at a time like this." The UED officer never opened his helmet visor, so the uneasy UNN staff could only anxiously speculate about the face beneath.

What do Earthlings actually look like? Perhaps they are no longer ordinary humans.

"This media building has now been requisitioned by the United Earth Directorate Expeditionary Fleet, and you can choose to serve us." He didn't seem to offer any other options.

"You mean you want us to be traitors to the Terrans? I tell you, there's absolutely no way that's possible! This great nation will never bow down to invaders!" Unexpectedly, Doni Mili immediately jumped up, raised his arms, and shouted that he would never be a traitor to the Tyranids.

This guy probably still thinks the cameras behind him are working.

"Threats may subdue a coward, but they cannot make a brave Terrans warrior betray his people and nation!"