"So, you're Foreman August Mengsk? Sorry if my accent's a bit thick," the miner said. "I'm Rory Swann. You can call me Rory, or Swann—it doesn't matter. But just so you know, there are two thousand Swanns in New Apollon."
"My cousin heard you're hiring. Word is the pay's decent."
"Rory Swann…" Augustus muttered the name under his breath. "I remember you. Out of over four hundred applications, I picked yours. Even had someone tell you that you could bring along a few helpers."
Augustus was more than familiar with the name. In StarCraft history, Rory Swann was a brilliant engineer with Raynor's Raiders. As long as he had a blueprint, there was seemingly nothing he couldn't build.
"You've got a Level-One Mechanic's license. You once retrofitted a Cailaniss armored buggy into a tank—using a fossil fuel engine, no less. And on top of that, you upgraded the internal batteries of New Apollon's automated mining drones, extending their operational time by three to five days." Augustus looked directly at Swann.
"That clearly shows you have talent in this field. But I have to admit, I'm a little puzzled. With the patent fees alone, you and your clan shouldn't be starving."
"You don't understand the situation… Chief. Feels weird calling you 'Mr. Mengsk,' so I'll just go with 'Chief,'" Swann said, shaking his head. "The Swann family's a big one—lots of brothers and sisters. In a mining family, the more people who can go down into the shafts, the better. One guy has three kids, another has five… and before you know it, there are just too many mouths to feed."
"This is the hardest time we've ever faced as a family. I have to get through it with my kin. As long as I still have the strength, I'll help the others," Swann said. "Solidarity is the key to our survival. Maybe you Terrans don't quite get it—but when I'm the one who needs help, they'll give it everything they've got to pull me through."
"Kel-Morian families are much larger than ours, and the bonds between them are incredibly strong. They always love a bit of noise and bustle," Augustus said with a soft chuckle. "I like kids too."
"Well… huh. Glad to hear that, Chief," Swann said with a sigh. He found it odd that this Terran officer didn't bring up the job at all and instead chatted about all sorts of things. Still, he didn't dislike this neatly dressed young man with gray hair.
At least he wasn't the stereotypical Terran soldier—those scarred, musclebound, bald-headed brutes.
"It can't be easy providing for so many children in the Swann family. So—have you considered switching to a job with better pay and a safer working environment?" Augustus gestured to Lisa nearby to bring over a few chairs, inviting them to sit down like he was ready for a serious conversation. That only left Swann and his brothers even more confused.
"You're not even thirty yet, and your accomplishments already go far beyond what I mentioned earlier. Swann, your talent in science and engineering is far greater than you give yourself credit for. If you submitted a résumé, any top-tier tech or engineering firm would be offering you jobs in a heartbeat."
The young Swann couldn't quite hide the joy on his face—but quickly realized he was being flattered and pulled back. It didn't take him long to figure out Augustus was trying to recruit him.
"I won't work for the Terran Federation military," he said firmly. "Too many of my friends and family have died at the hands of Terrans."
"I believe I made myself clear. Not the military—for me," Augustus replied, clearly prepared for that reaction. He slid an already-unlocked personal terminal across the table toward Swann and his companions. Displayed on the screen was an overview of the Mengsk family and expert valuations of their corporate holdings.
"We need people like you. As for the salary… I guarantee it'll exceed your expectations."
Swann and his brothers looked over the terminal, clearly skeptical. They had never seen so much money in their lives—at least, not outside of fiction.
"My friends and family have advised me to look for a decent, well-paying job too, instead of staying down in the mines," Swann said after a moment of thought. "But I've always insisted on staying with my family. Most of the high-tech companies are based in Moria, and that's too far from Meinhoff. I don't want to be away from my loved ones."
"I see," Augustus nodded, saying no more.
Swann figured Augustus had probably given up. Maybe he'd just said all that as a formality—empty politeness. That's how Terrans were, weren't they? Obsessed with needless formalities, always acting refined and courteous, but in truth cold and distant. Rarely ever sincere.
But then Augustus said something that genuinely stunned him.
"As it happens, I've been looking to hire a mining family to work for my resource extraction company," Augustus said. "I'm willing to hire all of you."
The Swann family was a long-established Kel-Morian lineage of mining engineers—well worth the investment.
"My homeworld, Korhal IV, is the most prosperous and forward-thinking of the thirteen core worlds in the Terran Federation. It has a robust and comprehensive social welfare system. Every one of you would receive a full pension upon retirement," Augustus continued, as if he had completely forgotten the original purpose of the meeting.
"Of course, words alone might not be convincing. A few of you can move to Korhal first—work for my family's tech and industrial companies for a while. Once everything's settled, you can bring the rest of your family over."
"If the Swann family decides to relocate to Korhal, I can guarantee employment for every adult. I'll cover all relocation expenses personally. I'll even purchase a piece of land for you—a new family estate."
"But we're Kel-Morian," said a member of the Swan family.
"Doesn't make any difference to me," Augustus replied with a shrug.
Swan and a few of his clansmen exchanged glances. One of them—who appeared to be Swan's older brother—spoke up: "We were born here. We grew up here. And we've never once thought of leaving Meinhoff."
"Even if you could really pull it off, the elders in our family would never agree. For Kel-Morians, home and tradition are non-negotiable. We'd only ever leave in the most desperate of circumstances."
Swan himself found it strange. This Terran officer—whom he'd never met before—seemed to be placing way too much faith in him. Suddenly, he had the odd illusion that maybe… he really was someone important.
But… was this guy messing with him?
Just based on a résumé that couldn't even be verified, this officer had decided he was worth recruiting at any cost? Even if that résumé were entirely accurate, Swan didn't think his accomplishments were particularly impressive. Surely there were people far more qualified within the Terran Federation than a miner who'd never received any higher education.
It was all very strange.
Maybe this officer really was a scion of the Mengsk family. But people like that—before they'd ever been slapped in the face by reality—tended to overestimate their abilities and make grand, dramatic gestures that didn't stand up to scrutiny. The Swan family had nearly 2,000 members. Even if things got truly desperate, they wouldn't entrust their fate to a beardless kid.
"Of course, this is just my personal opinion—still half-formed, really. But my family does lack talents like yours. In mining. In military technology." Augustus hadn't expected Swan to agree right away. Nor did he expect him to leave with him immediately. "I just hope you'll seriously consider the offer. No matter when—there will always be a place for you in the Mengsk family."
"I didn't come to this decision on a whim, either. I've thought about it for a long time. Mr. Swan, staying buried in this pit on Meinhoff will only waste your potential. A raptor of Koprulu should soar, not rot in a hole."
Augustus had thought about it carefully—if a rebellion was to erupt on Korhal IV, military industry development would be essential. And in that regard, Korhal lagged far behind Tarsonis.
It wasn't just Swan. He needed talent—across every field. The more, the better. Backgrounds didn't matter. Costs didn't matter.
"Your potential far exceeds what you believe it to be, Mr. Swan. Your future lies among the stars—across the vast galaxy—not buried beneath rock and dust." Augustus added, "When humanity was still fumbling in the dark, when the first imaginative primitive sat beside a campfire and looked up at the stars with wonder, our conquest of the cosmos had already begun."
Swan realized that Augustus was completely serious. He wasn't wasting time. He wasn't joking. But for Swan and his brothers, it was hard not to chalk this up to a young man with an overactive imagination and some grandiose dream.
Maybe Augustus saw himself as a new Alexander or Caesar—conqueror of the galaxy. But hey… what if he could actually pull it off?
"I don't know what help I could possibly be," Swan said, a bit tempted now but still doubting himself. "I mean, fixing machines, patching up busted scrap, bolting wheels onto robots—that's my thing. Honestly, what more could you expect from a miner?"
"A great deal more," Augustus replied. "Like new power armor. New tanks. New giant walking mechs. New battlecruisers. And you… you would be the cornerstone of these magnificent creations." His cold gray eyes locked onto Swan's without blinking, and the grand vision poured forth: "A massive tech conglomerate—Swan Engineering—will rise from your hands."
"I've never even thought of something like that," Swan said, eyes wide.
"Go on," he added.
"Just imagine," Augustus went on, continuing to paint his grand vision. "Technological breakthroughs used to improve lives… and you, the man who made it all possible. A hero of humanity. Years from now, children will carve your image into stone and erect monuments in your honor."
"I like the sound of that," Swan said, stroking his dark, scruffy beard. "But I've got a lot to think about. Leaving home isn't something you do lightly. I've never even heard of this Korhal place, let alone the Mengsk family from Korhal."
Truth be told, if Swan had really wanted to, he could have left Meinhoff long ago and found a decent job on one of the Kel-Morian core worlds. But he had stayed on this barren planet all the way up to the year 2500. It wasn't until he could no longer tolerate the exploitation of Kel-Morian officials that he finally rose up in protest—and joined Raynor's Raiders.
But until that moment, not once had some rich noble kid suddenly shown up just to say: "Even if it's not for the money, you should still chase your dreams."
"Of course," Augustus replied. "You don't have to decide right now. We can sign the contract a year from today, if that's what you want." He flashed a radiant smile.
"What?" Before Swan could respond, his cousins were already whispering among themselves—thinking they were being discreet.
"A slavery contract? We're not going to be some Terran industrialist's servants!"
"It's legally binding," Augustus said calmly.
"Hold on, I never agreed to anything," Swan muttered. "After all this talking, I nearly forgot why I even came here in the first place. Weren't you hiring me to refit your ship?"
"That's right. Let me show her to you." Augustus stood up and grabbed his jacket from a nearby coat rack. "Lisa, you can take a break now."
He then led Swan and his men out of the supervisor's office. They descended the stone steps and passed through a large iron gate guarded by Heaven's Devil troopers. Beyond it stretched a wide industrial complex. A squad of Resocialized soldiers jogged past them in formation, halting in unison to salute Augustus. Their flawless discipline left the Kel-Morians visibly impressed.
As Augustus made his way toward the temporary hangar, every workshop and factory along the route was already in full operation. The workers were bustling with energy and drive—at least for now. Once Augustus's troops moved on, they'd likely go back to their old days of barely scraping by.
The hangar had been converted from a raw materials warehouse, its walls painted in shades of dark gray and black. In two neighboring warehouses, crates of precisely cut and weighed Ardeon crystals were stacked high. About four-fifths of them were marked for delivery—while the remaining fifth had quietly found their way into Augustus's own pockets.
When the hangar's airlock hissed open, Swan finally caught sight of the transport vessel inside—a sleek, dark-gray ship known as the Little Devil.
"Upgrading her with a new stealth field emitter isn't going to be cheap," Swan said plainly, turning to Augustus. "I'm a straight shooter, always have been."
"So tell me, Mister Mengsk—do you actually have the money for this?"
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