This novel was in the works almost as long as my first Starcraft novel, Band of Brothers, was. I started shortly after writing Band of Brothers, and was immensely proud Chimaera. Soon, I lost interest, but got back on board because I regretted leaving a story that I had worked on for a massive amount of time. For those of you who enjoyed Band of Brothers, you'll notice a few characters I've created are back; and I hope you enjoy it. I'm more proud of this than any other of my stories.

Starcraft: Chimaera

By: Smurf

Author's Note: So here it is: a kind of James Bond, Mission Impossible meets Starcraft fanfiction, featuring CHIMAERA. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I own the Starcraft copyrights, I just have the game and play it way too much.

Chapter 1: Optimal Targets

The battlecruiser Legacy of Korhal fled the blood drenched space platform with such a haste that it surprised the cloaked Protoss Observer following its path. It sped towards the arid world of Korhal, four mighty Gargantuan engines powering its flight. Slowly it entered the asteroid field, vaporizing any chunk of errant rock getting in its way. Slowly it entered into the ambush.

Arcturus Mengsk, emperor of what was left of the Terran Dominion, looked through a porthole in the cabin aboard the Legacy. Out of the fifty battlecruisers and other large capital warships he had managed to scrap together for the fight against the Zerg broods, only the one he was standing in survived. One of the last of the ships to survive the Zerg onslaught, masterminded by Kerrigan, Queen of Blades.

Mengsk pondered, his thoughts running wildly together. Had it only been a few hours since the uneasy alliance between the United Earth Directorate remnants, the Protoss, and the Terran Dominion attacked a Zerg brood on a space platform orbiting Char? Had it only been a few hours since Mengsk once again tasted the bitter medicine of defeat? Had only been a few hours since he had seen a Zerg counterattack slaughter the UED? Kerrigan was especially cruel to the UED troops, sparing only the slowest shuttles and ships for the poor UED souls. Slowly, as the Earthlings lumbered towards their homeplanet, they were vanquished by Zerg flyers. The Zerg reduced DuGalle and his fleet, once a mighty armada, to floating chunks of debris in space.

But Mengsk, as he pondered around in his cabin, did not care for the poor souls who died on their ships. The only thing he cared about was getting his throne back, consolidating his power, expanding, defending against the Zerg and any other enemy.

His moral code was only 'eat or be eaten.' He only thought of the defeated UED as another threat he didn't have to worry about when he got home. He had an image to cultivate, an empire to rule, a galaxy to conquer. It was never about the Zerg, Protoss, or Terran. It was about him.

An adjutant's image, her head shaved, dark pupils looking at the graying man, flickered on his monitor on his desk. "Sir," she said, in a soft, computerized feminine tone that made Mengsk forget he was talking to a real human, "an unidentified battlecruiser just appeared on our sensors. Commander Jameson is requesting your presence on the bridge."

"Tell him I'll be there in a moment," Mengsk replied, sighing heavily as he turned away from the porthole. The adjutant's image disappeared from the screen.

He walked out of his cabin, traveling across the first floor of the cruiser, to the bridge. His salt and pepper hair was neatly combed, his beard trimmed. His looks and voice deceived many, for he was only in his forties, but his grandfatherly looks and voice made him seem much older. This man was the Emperor who struggled to lead the whatever Terrans were left in the Sector to domination against whatever aliens.

His cloak flapped around as he quickened his pace, taking long strides. The red emblem of the Dominion and the Sons of Korhal was on the back of his cloak, the symbol of pride and unity for the men and women aboard. For now, he thought.

He entered the bridge, doors hissing open as two robotically armored marines held their rifles high to salute him.

"G'evening, gentlemen," Mengsk said.

"Sir." The marines stood up taller, trying to make an impression.

"Emperor." Jameson, in his standard Dominion Commander's uniform, red with black trimmings, saluted to Mengsk. The Emperor nodded in acknowledgement, knowing Jameson was trying to mock him with his title. Jameson knew Mengsk was only Emperor of his own little cruiser, with only a few thousand loyal to him. But yet, enough to take back a planet.

"Commander. What situation do we have here?" He looked through the glass plating, essentially a huge window on the blunt end of the cruiser. Staring back was the head of another of the monolithic warships. Asteroids floated between them.

"What does the transponder list it as?" Mengsk asked, not taking his eyes off the ship. He knew who was aboard. He clasped his hands to his back.

"Standard type. Behemoth-class, like the Legacy. A few modifications, here and there. Built in Umoja for the Feds, I believe, stolen by the Sons, and presented to a certain Captain. And then stolen by the Captain from the Dominion." Jameson's words were lanced with uncontrollable anger. "Teal markings, with a symbol of a vulture bird and the emblem of the Colony of Mar Sara on the side. You know the name?" Jameson knew his stuff.

"Ah yes, the Hyperion, no doubt. Stolen from the Confederacy, and stolen from me. Commander Raynor is aboard, I assume?"

Almost as if on cue, the communications officer looked up from her monitor with frustration on her face. "Sir, the Hyperion is jamming us. We can't get any read on it or communications. I think it's hailing."

A man's head appeared on the massive monitor on the side of the bridge. Mengsk looked at the man, his uni-brow expression angry, shaved head shining, and mustache untrimmed and all over. Jim Raynor...

"Hello Jim." Mengsk waved a friendly hand to the image. His former right hand man. In his mind, three words repeated. Dirty traitor, bastard...

"Don't give me that bullshit, Mengsk,"

"And what do you want me to give you?"

"What happened?"

"Concerning what?"

"The battle, damnit!" Raynor's voice sounded pissed. He has bloodshot eyes, Mengsk noted. He's worried about something.

"Kerrigan proved herself. She lived up to her title, 'Queen Bitch of the Universe,' I think. She kicked our asses, including your Protoss friends, and then wiped out what was left of the UED."

"No, goddamn you Mengsk, where the hell is Kerrigan?" Raynor was infuriated.

"Kerrigan? I suppose she's rallying her broods to make a visit to Earth. Or on Korhal. Or maybe a little see-sighting tour to you and your Protoss friends on Shakuras, no about?" Mengsk feigned a smile, enjoying his little game with Raynor. He waved a hand to his weapons officer. The officer nodded, powering up the ship's Yamato Cannon. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to Korhal and prepare my defenses for the next onslaught. Hopefully-"

"You're not going anywhere, man, until we talk a few things over. I learned about a new threat that's going to kill all of us, including the Zerg. I'm coming over." Raynor's image flickered off.

"Sir, they've locked us in a stasis field!" A navigations officer to the right of Mengsk pointed outside of the cruiser's thick glass. A Protoss Arbiter hovered behind an asteroid, and as it moved, Mengsk looked at a whole flotilla of uncloaking fighters facing his lone cruiser: two squadrons of wraith superiority fighters and a wing of Protoss Scouts. Laser batteries and the Yamoto Gun froze in locked position, unable to power up because of the stasis field. "Damn! All men to their battlestations! Take up positions on the egress points on the ship!" As Mengsk yelled, a two blasts from the Hyperion neatly disabled the ATA and ATS batteries on the "wings" on the Legacy.

"Hell, what does that son of a bitch want from me now?" Mengsk said. Jameson smiled, looking calm in the midst of chaos, as marines raced frantically towards each of the twenty openings on the cruiser.

Aboard the Hyperion

"Can I get you anything sir? Anything you'd like me to do? Sir, I think this mission is too dangerous, you should leave it up to your-"

Raynor turned around. "For the last time, Arnold, stop telling me what to do!" The nineteen year-old kid stared defiantly back at the commander. He was a skinny thing, with pimples and a wisp of a beard. And he would follow Raynor through hell and back. He worshipped the former Marshal like a kid worshipping a superhero. He probably thinks I am one, Raynor thought. "Now, I gotta go now, alright? Take care of the ship for me," Raynor said, strolling towards a dropship. He sighed. Arnold, like most of his Raiders, had lost family and friends to Zerg, and had nothing else except a group of backcountry hicks and farmers to go to. I just wished they weren't as young.

Marines filed inside each transport, as the technicians and air control operators gave a signal that all four of the transports were ready, in the main air hanger, located in the bottom back deck of the battlecruiser.

A square egress, large enough to let two dropships through, was located in the center of the deck. Above Raynor's head were C/F-17H wraith fighter craft, hanging by their wings on large steel rods. Pilots of the crafts were continuously coming up and down from and to their ships as they rested and prepped for their next sortie. Starfighter technicians and men in bulky SCV suits strode up and down the hanger bay, repairing and arming wraiths. Battlecruisers were known for their frantic bustling.

Raynor strode to his designated dropship, as a lumbering, towering form of a Dark Templar came up besides him, cloak flapping, and cholas veil on his face. Do you think this will work, Commander? Zami said, telepathically.

"Course it'll work man, if Mengsk doesn't want to be friendly with us, we'll have to drag him along and pound him for good measure. Anyway, we're not going over his piece of junk to kill, just to see if he has any info about his past. About the massacre on Umoja." Raynor gulped down a hard lump in his throat.

It had only been a few weeks since the incident occurred, on a remote location in Umoja, where the Umojan Protectorate kept their secret nuclear missile base. Raynor gulped down another urge to puke as he entered the ship, as the two pilots nodded to him. He had seen death before, but not the gore that was spread in the missile base. The blood...and the stench. Limbs and organs strewn everywhere. The missiles all taken. Blood deep enough to soak his boots in. And the things that did it were not Zerg, they were other humans. Whoever had done it were madmen.

The only clue to who ordered and committed and massacre was left in blood on a wall of the base. REGARDS FROM THE OTHER SON OF KORHAL, it had read. Which left Raynor wondering who that person was. A terrorist? An avenger? An madman? Raynor had started looking for clues, but he knew the only person he could get info from was the leader of the Sons of Korhal.

Which was why Raynor, his Raiders, and the Protoss were going to interrogate Mengsk. We don't need another threat out there. We already have too many, Raynor thought, viewing the space surrounding him as the dropship took off. Out there were the Zerg and Sarah. Out there was Samir Duran. And out there was a terrorist playing god with the universe.

Aboard the Legacy of Korhal

On the neck, the long, thin section of a standard battlecruiser, thirty men, under command of a young Dominion officer, waited for their uninvited guests to arrive. A metal door, like the other nineteen on the Legacy was being guarded by the men, their Gauss weaponry trained, ready to fire.

The officer was guessing the four dropships would land on some of the twenty egress openings on the ship, since the main airhanger inside the cruiser was too well protected. The only way to land though, on a static cruiser, floating in space, with all of its egress doors sealed shut was to get a dropship close enough to the ship, was to open its side door, and let someone hack into the computer mainframe to override any command sealing the door.

Outside, in the vacuum of space, a Ghost Agent waited patiently as the dropship inserted a cylindrical passageway to the egress door on the battlecruiser. Once a vacuum, complete with an atmosphere between the dropship and cruiser was completed through the passageway, the Ghost walked to the computer outside the egress. A Dark Templar followed, drawing its power psionic power to completely cloak itself. Raynor came next.

"Got it, Jamie?"

"Just a few more minutes, sir," he said, adding his own little hacking gadget to the computer.

"Alright." He turned to Zami, the Shadow Hunter. "Remember man, don't hurt the marines waiting in there if you can help it. Our primary mission is just to escort Mengsk, so try to not massacre people, ok?"

The Dark Templar stared back with an innocence too real despite his six hundred year old mind. I will try, James.

"Ready?"

"Ready sir." The Ghost jogged back to the dropship as marines in blue armor filed out.

Raynor pressed a button on the computer. "Open sesame."

A Dominion marine, from the inside of the ship, waiting, squinted in the darkness as he hoisted his rifle. The door was open, alright, but there was no one there. No marines or other troops stormed into the Legacy.

"It's a Ghost!" The Dominion officer shouted, standing in the middle of the corridor. "Open fire!"

The marines let loose from their guns. Torrents of rifle fire scorched the ship and the void outside. Scorch marks on the NeoSteel armor of the door painted the savagery thirty rifles could do. No blood, however, streamed, and no cloaked Ghost appeared out of nowhere, slumping on the hard metal floor.

What the hell? The Dominion officer didn't know what to do. He took a step backwards, only to bump into a person...or thing. Then he felt a hand grasp his neck. Another hand grabbed his mouth. A voice appeared, seemingly normal, except it was inside his head. "Tell your troops to drop your guns. Or my blade will cut your throat and the odd contraption sprouting on your face. A 'mouth' I believe it is called. Tell them!"

The officer signaled his men with his hand. One marine looked at him oddly. "Sir what's...oh." The marine dropped his rifle.

No one moved his gun towards the Protoss warrior, fearing it could cut each man in thousands of pieces in a second. Rumors spread like wildfire about the abilities of a Protoss Templar. Rifles clattered on the floor, as marines raised their hands high above their heads.

From the egress, marines led by Raynor streamed into the ship, as if appearing from nowhere. "Good job, Zami. Bet you boys weren't expecting Zami to climb on your ceiling, huh?" He pointed towards the ceiling of the ship.

"Come on, man. My boys will take care of the Dominion boys here." Raynor and the Dark Templar left to the bridge of the ship, while the rest of the Raiders rounded the Dominion men into another room.

"Cloak again, man, and sneak up on anyone holding a gun. Disarm them. I'll get Mengsk. I know him, he'll understand, and come along," Raynor said. He cocked his gun. "But stay frosty. Some of Mengsk's men might stir up trouble." Zami nodded in acknowledgment.

Raynor pressed a button to open the door to the bridge. Guns immediately were pressed against him, and he heard the rustle of a cloak from his left.

"Well. Looks like Jim Raynor overextended his capabilities. He got through my marines alright, but he was dumb enough to walk in here like he owned the ship." Mengsk stood there, pistol in hand, as a Dominion commander stood in the back. Hatred filled his eyes. Jameson, Raynor thought. Of course, he hated me when I was with the Sons.

"Hey man, back off. I did own this ship once. I was commanding it before the Hyperion."

Mengsk frowned. "All the better reason for me to shoot you." Then he stiffened, as if held up by something. The gun was released from his grasp, and he was lifted bodily from the ship's deck. "Another one of your Protoss friends, I presume?" Mengsk said, struggling to breathe. "Alright everyone, drop your guns." A clatter of weaponry followed. "Raynor, tell this beast to get off me."

Mengsk's feet landed on the floor. Then Raynor grabbed him. "He's not a beast, you dumb bastard," he said, whispering. "You call Zami that again, and I'll rip out your throat."

"What the hell do you want, Raynor?"

Raynor released his grasp. "I need to question you. About the SoK. Before I joined the Sons of Korhal, there are some stuff I need to know about. For the sake of all of our goddamn heads."

"Like what?"

"When you formed the Sons, two other men helped you: Cal Luke, an influential Korhalian senator, and Dash Strom, a former Confederate Prospector like yourself. Luke was executed by Fed High Command. Strom disappeared." Raynor shot him another look.

"Yeah, so?"

"You killed him, Mengsk. Your love for power made you kill him. Sharing power with someone was to you as hideous as what the Confederates did to your planet. And what better executioner than Sarah Kerrigan? You let her kill him, but didn't tell her why. And then you ordered her on that suicide mission in New Gettysburg Spaceport, to eliminate the Protoss, and her, so word of your assassination wouldn't leak out. Like all good people, she followed your orders. And after she got overrunned and turned into the 'Queen Bitch' you forgot about her."

Raynor was madly pacing around the deck, as if in a trance.

"You damn bastard, you forget about everyone. You forgot about me, and know I'm here, kicking your ass. You forgot about Duke, and he died. You forget about Kerrigan, and she's our worst enemy. And," he continued, looking straight at Mengsk, "you forgot about Dash Strom's son, Kliven."

"Strom? What the hell is his son doing?"

"Stealing superweapons."

Mengsk's eyes narrowed. "Superweapons?" he hissed. "Like what?"

"Remember the Ion Cannon I destroyed, just after I broke off with you and you crowned yourself Emperor? The weapon that can destroy whole fleets, and was the vanguard in defending Tarsonis against a SoK planetary assault? The Feds made two of them. One was broken into mobile parts and hidden across the Sector, shortly before Tarsonis was destroyed by the Zerg. The other one was destroyed by my boys. Kliven has got all of the pieces, and he's just acquired the key to the weapon a few days ago in a mission against the Kel-Moria Combine. And that's not all."

Mengsk was still focusing on the word Ion Cannon. Thoughts raced wildly through his head. I'll need another Guards Battalion to destroy it then...no worries.

"He's also got nukes too, so you can eliminate your plans about trying to send your Elite Guards to destroy the thing. They'll get nuked before they can blink."

"What makes you think I'm going to send my men?"

"I know you too well."

"What do you want me to do?" Mengsk said. "I have an empire and homeworld to defend."

"I need you to come with me to talk. To answer questions and see a video of what Kliven did. He's got other superweapons too. But the biggest, by far, are almost in his grasp. And if he gets them, he'll eliminate you. Me. The Zerg. Earth. Korhal. For good, too. It'll be an apocalypse. Kliven's mad; he's a terrorist, and he's not going to be afraid to use those weapons."

"And what else, Raynor?"

"I want to form a intelligence community out of the Protectorate, Dominion and Protoss. All your best terrorism agents and counter-intelligence people in one, varsity agency. That way, any threat like the one I'm telling you about can be stopped."

"What's it called?"

"Chimaera."

Mengsk mused at the name. I'll worry about it later...

"And you promise me a safe passage to Korhal after we're done?"

"Of course."

"Let's go."

Bonn, Germany

United Earth Directorate Capital Building, Office of the Presidium

Around the Directorate's Presidium Building, where President of the Earth and her Colonies, Alan Johnson, worked, ate, and slept, a massive ring of armored personnel carriers, tanks, and marines were waiting, blocking off entrance to any curious bystander. In French, a language barred from use since the early 21st century, the event was called a coup d'etat. An overthrow of the state. General Peter Dmitri Stukov strode into the Presidium Building, where four marines, visors down, gave him a salute, straight rods in robotic armor. Escorting him were four members of the UED Intelligence, four Ghost Special Espionage Agents.

A team of crack army troops had already stormed the building take Johnson hostage inside his office. Slowly, the general looked at the rooms inside the Capital Building. Nice rooms to work in. Stukov stepped around the body of an aide, not even looking at it. For the will of Earth, it shall be so.

He walked inside Johnson's office looking around. Another aide laid dead in a chair, and the President of the most influential and power-wielding empire in human history looked back, blood-shot eyes and crumpled hair not hiding his surprise and bewilderment of what was happening: The UED Military was setting up a new government.

"What is the meaning of this, Stukov?" Johnson didn't want to believe what was happening. Stukov's Ghosts surrounded him.

"A change in politics, President Johnson. Or, should I say, ex-President Johnson?"

"What are you planning?"

Stukov paced around the room, recalling his speech. "Ever since my older brother Alexei was sent along with seventy-five percent of our military strength, I wondered how wise this would be. You did not approve of the use of nuclear weapons to clear the Sector of Zerg. My brother stupidly also did not approve. Why not? Your only reason is that it will cause millions of innocent casualties to the people of the Koprulu Sector."

"And that is why I did not approve of sending nukes out there. Peter, the Zerg inhabit planets that are teeming with colonists. With life. And you ask me to approve of something to turn those places in ashen worlds like Char?"

Stukov ignored him. "Since you did not approve, our UED Expeditionary forces were slaughtered. We lost millions, and the Zerg are on their way over here. Your plot to use the Overmind as a tool has failed. My brother is dead. And still, you ask our people to employ conventional warfare against these demons! Why? Why this madness? Why not use nukes to clear the Zerg?"

"The Zerg are a cancer...they must be cut from the body! If you had a cancer, Stukov, would you destroy yourself in order to get rid of the cancer? No. Because everything would be lost if you did. I cannot order the deployment of nuclear weapons unless the Zerg are on some barren world. And then I will still hesitate, for nukes will contaminate the world for years- and create new mutations of the Zerg. Now, may I ask what the hell are you doing here?"

"We are having an overthrow of the government, Alan. You are not the president of Earth anymore. I am." Stukov smiled. "The fleet is being prepped for an offensive against the Zerg. We will lure them and destroy them with nukes- the weapons you shall not approve of but I, as the President, will."

"Are you mad? The nukes will not effectively destroy the Zerg. They can burrow deeply to protect themselves! Scientists have already found that nuclear waste can create mutations of the Zerg! Who or what are you doing this for? Is this your idea of revenge for your brother, Peter?"

"Not for my brother, Alan." Stukov calmly lifted up his pistol.

"For the UED. For Earth. For Humanity."

The gun coughed. Johnson's body slumped into his chair.

"Signal the fleet to began Operation Extermination. Tell the media I am ready for my Presidential Speech."

One of the Ghosts nodded and strode off. The UED was under new leadership.