On the first day, the hellish training Augustus had imagined never came. In fact, by the time they arrived, it was already eight in the evening, local time on Turaxis II.
The vast underground hangar was bustling with ships taking off and landing. Troop carriers loaded with hundreds of new recruits drove toward the barracks above, climbing a steadily rising ramp.
Goliath combat robots, each several stories tall, stood like steel giants. Even from far away, the deafening roar of the columns of AVV-5 Arclite Siege Tanks made the recruits' eardrums throb.
Amid all the noise, everything ran like clockwork.
Before Augustus found his unit, the NCOs, who were supposedly "considerate" of their subordinates, found an excuse to make him and his comrades "lick clean the flight deck their new boots had dirtied" before they could go to bed.
Only after the recruits had scrubbed the flight deck so many times that the NCOs deemed it cleaner than their gleaming, freshly polished boots did Augustus receive a detailed printed roster listing the companies and platoons assigned to each recruit training camp.
A note at the bottom of the roster insisted that the Adjutant on the Federal Marine Corps Secure Data Network had assigned them at random. The insistence was a little too much like protesting one's innocence.
However, powerful families and generals' sons had no need to pull strings over assignments like these. Their children would never have to start as privates. Usually, after polishing their credentials at one of Tarsonis's top universities or advanced military academies, the children of the nobility went straight into the service as second lieutenants. The offspring of Tarsonis's Old Families started even higher.
Many heirs to Tarsonis's great families followed the ancient Colonial Era tradition of joining the Federal Marine Corps to forge their heirs into people of strength and resolve.
But during the enterprising Age of Exploration, after the first fifty or even hundred years following the arrival of the colony ships from Earth on Tarsonis, this tradition of noble heirs having to serve in the military gradually faded away.
Only the original Old Families, who were forever eager to flaunt their noble blood, still followed the tradition. Even then, their heirs and other noble scions usually took civilian jobs far from the front lines and danger.
The most famous of these was Tarsonis's Duke Family. Almost every generation of the Dukes had produced a general.
Augustus realized that Korhal's nobility differed from Tarsonis's oldest Elder Families. The former held absolute sway over Korhal IV, while Tarsonis's old aristocracy controlled the Confederacy's thirteen core worlds, including Korhal, along with countless Edge Worlds.
Angus Mengsk's private forces could never stand against the Federal Marine Corps. That terrifying war machine answered only to the Confederate government and the Tarsonis Elder Families he meant to overthrow.
Slogans and political propaganda alone couldn't bring down a corrupt government. Perhaps that was why Angus ultimately failed.
But Augustus's worry about his own circumstances was soon swept aside by a name on the roster: Company D, Second Platoon, First Squad—James Eugene Raynor.
A namesake?
Augustus couldn't help connecting the name to the famous man from StarCraft.
It was possible. The year was 2488, more than a decade before Wings of Liberty began. At this point, the game's protagonist, Jim Raynor, might well have been just a kid.
Fortunately, Augustus didn't have to keep guessing. He would find out soon enough.
After collecting his bedding, standard-issue toiletries—including an ultrasonic toothbrush and an ultrasonic razor—and a titanium-alloy military knife from the quartermaster, Augustus boarded a military bus bound for the modular barracks aboveground.
The recruit barracks were unbelievably spacious. Their walls were made of sturdy plasteel alloy panels, and the floor was laid with nonslip tiles patterned like hardwood.
The broad, rectangular dormitory held six cots, each about seven feet long and five feet wide. It also had private ultrasonic shower stalls, restrooms, and even a holographic projector.
That wasn't what the Federal News Network had led people to expect. Supposedly, the Federal Marine Corps was so short of supplies on the front lines that recruits had to sleep in local farmers' stables and cowsheds.
In a UNN report, a retired veteran had claimed that the Federal Marine Corps' accommodations were only slightly worse than the luxurious villas on Tarsonis. Every recruit supposedly got a robot servant and lived by a set routine, with just two hours of training a day—like clocking in at work.
Even though he had expected as much, Augustus still wondered whether his father, Angus, had secretly made a donation to the Federal Marine Corps on Turaxis II to secure such generous treatment. But the Confederacy's Marine Corps probably wouldn't dare accept a revolutionary's money.
Augustus was the last to arrive at the dorm. He dropped off his backpack, went into the shower to wash up and tidy himself, then prepared to meet the comrades he would one day fight alongside.
When Augustus stepped out of the shower, the noisy dorm fell silent. He was just starting to feel rather pleased when an ill-timed voice broke the hush. "Well, look at that—a pretty little dandy. I bet the thugs in Company C will be fighting over his ass!"
A red-haired recruit sprawled on a bed with his legs splayed and a pair of slippers on his feet. He shouted the words, then sat upright, looking ready for a fight.
"But when they come after you, at least I'll die protecting your asshole," Augustus said, staring into the red-haired recruit's dark blue eyes. Though they had both only just arrived at camp, Augustus had been appointed recruit sergeant and put in charge of the squad.
This sort of thing was unusual, and Augustus had only learned about it when he received the roster. Even a moment's thought told him that his older brother, Arcturus Mengsk, commander of the ground assault division, was almost certainly behind it. Arcturus could easily have arranged for the training camp officers to rig the assignment.
Of course, Arcturus himself might not have known. Plenty of people were eager to curry favor with the promising young commander. The highest-ranking officer at the recruit camp was only a major, while Arcturus was already a colonel. Once the war ended and he had amassed enough military honors, he would soon become a general.
Augustus hadn't been made acting corporal because he was handsome. It was purely because he had connections. Whatever the old Augustus might have thought, the current one didn't mind the arrangement at all.
Naturally, some of the more unruly recruits resented someone mysteriously being placed above them. But compared to the authority Augustus had actually been given, that was a minor problem.
"Sergeant Mengsk, don't mind him. Hank has a unique way of saying hello. Ha, I'm sure he's just jealous of your 'stunning good looks.'" Before things got any more awkward, another recruit with short black hair stepped in to smooth things over.
The black-haired recruit had sharp brown eyes and a high nose. Compared to Augustus's fair skin, his was darker and more weathered, but he still had the youthful glow of a young man.
Augustus guessed he was only a year or two older than him. The faint smell of machine oil clinging to the recruit suggested that, before enlisting, he had been an apprentice at a private repair shop.
Neither of them remembered the brief glance they had exchanged earlier in the underground hangar.
Many people first remembered this character as the bald, muscular man driving a Vulture in StarCraft I. Even then, Jim Raynor had already reached middle age.
By contrast, the image of the Wings of Liberty leader—a man with a lined face and neatly trimmed beard—was probably more deeply etched in people's minds.
Jim Raynor was one of the most memorable and famous race protagonists in the StarCraft games. His story spanned the eras of StarCraft I and StarCraft II.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Jim Raynor, and that idiot is Harnack Hank." Raynor smiled warmly, then pointed to the others.
"This is Tom Omo, my classmate from elementary school. The few of us are all from Shiloh. You might not have heard of it, but I'll tell you, Shiloh is one hell of a place."
"And then there's Connor Ward, Zander Marx, Amy Brandon."
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