Notes; I wrote this fanfiction back in May of 2005 after I read about the story choices you can make after you fight a marine in the previews. I also saw in trailer 6 the part where you see Gideon and Olivia fighting soldiers, and wondered, why? This story attempts to explain.

Since then it has been revealed, but I like my version better. It's more fun with more survivors.

"Brothers of War"


"One Night in an Alien Bar"

As the Excelsior-class starship, the Renaissance, pulled into dock, Gideon Wyeth felt every dent and bent of the ship's hull rumble and shake. He sighed. He didn't feel much better. The Seekers had thrown him across the room several times, his armor had barely shrugged off an energy blast, and mentally he was still reeling from his brother's fall.

Olivia laid a hand on his right shoulder. "We'll avenge him," she whispered, knowing precisely what tormented Gideon. He nodded wordlessly and stood. Hopefully, this would be the place where he'd get the help to wreak his bloody vengeance.

The space station was not much better than a wreck. The main passages were apparently functional, but several decks had already been punctured and all instruments destroyed. However, there was a hangar full of military craft. Presumably the pilots were still around.

Gideon, Olivia, and two crewmembers, Maccabee and Lizhong, found them in the station's main attraction: a seedy cantina with broken neon named B AC HOL . The patrons had predictable traits: coarse, cutthroat, and killer. They were dressed in dirty and worn-out uniforms and lounged liked they owned the place. They probably did- the bartender was a mousy man who hid behind the counter, meekly and hurriedly taking orders. Several of the bar's walls had holes in them, and there were shards of broken glass on the floor.

One of the men, a one-eyed fellow missing quite a few teeth, looked at the four and grinned, laughing in a manner desired to elicit discomfort. It only incited Gideon's anger.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What's your unit?"

"Us?" asked one-eye, mocking modesty, "we were the grunts of the 33rd Bomber Battalion, but now we are the poor Boys of Brezhnev."

He turned and saluted a man at a table, smiling all the while.

"Figures," whispered Maccabee to Lizhong. "Of course they'd unite under a strongman."

Gideon was unimpressed. "You have lots of fighters. Why aren't you rendezvousing with the rest of the survived fleet?"

"Because," piped up a battle-scarred vet at a corner, "the fleet abandoned us."

"We was the first force sent to fight the damned Spitters at Edumea," spoke one-eye. "We're not trained for defense- Commodore Patel screwed up the strategy."

"They threw us against the strongest point and left us all to die," growled a young pilot.

"Captain Douglas lied- there were no reinforcements," seethed a third.

"All of those armchair admirals… they can go straight into a nova for all I care."

"My men and I are tired of the war, sir," said Brezhnev, standing. "We will die no longer for

leaders who never cared for us - and no longer live."

Lizhong, always hot-tempered, burst before Gideon. "You… pirates! What will you do now? Hide on this god-forsaken top until the Seekers come to kill you, too?"

"Funny you should call us that," said one-eye, staring at the soldier until Lizhong flinched from intimidation. "Because that's who we are now."

"The fleet is dead. Humanity is being exterminated. Only we remain. If we must resort to brigandry and lawlessness, then so be it," said Brezhnev.

Gideon shook his head, and replied. "You can't live like this. When the fleet is gone, the Seekers will kill you. You are hurting your own chances for survival by not joining us."

"Save your speeches. We're not one of you," said one-eye.

"You're a traitor to humanity."

"You're one to talk!" shouted the young pilot in the corner. "Were you at Edumea? Did you fight? Go away and run, pretty-boy!"

Gideon glared at the pilot. "I was on Edumea when the Seekers came. I lost my brother in the groundside defense."

"That's just fine and dandy!" retorted the pilot. "We lost plenty of mates, too."

"He must have been one crawlworm, your brother," smirked one-eye. "It's one thing to die in orbit- it's another to die groundside. What, was he too weak to run?"

In a nanosecond one-eye was on the ground and his remained eye blackened.

"You hoit!" shouted a pilot, and made to hit Gideon.

Gideon sidestepped and knocked the man off balance, hitting him in the head and knocking him, too, unconscious.

A barroom brawl almost began. Following her fiancée's lead, Olivia smashed a nearby bottle across a nearby pilot's head. Three others tried to grab Gideon, and one punched Lizhong and held him in a chokehold whilst four surrounded Maccabee.

A blast shook the cantina. The mousy-looking bartender stood resolutely, now confident thanks to the giant rifle he held I his hands. He blew the smoke over the barrel. A piece of the ceiling fell on him, but he did not flinch.

"I've had enough of this! Stop this fighting or I'll kick the lot of you out!" he screamed, waving his gun in the air.

"And you," he pointed at Olivia, "don't ever, ever, waste my alcohol. There's not enough to go around, and when humanity is dead I won't have much of a supply."

Brezhnev cleared his throat. His men instantly stopped, straightened, and saluted.

"This is enough. I am willing to allow you to settle this dispute of honor, but only on a much smaller scale. Only one of you may fight this… belligerent. We have no reason to despoil this gentleman's establishment, da?"

Gideon spoke. "If I win, your man owes us supplies. We also need repairs on our ship."

Brezhnev nodded. "That is reasonable."

"What do we get if we win?" asked a thick-bearded lecher, placing a hand at Olivia's waist.

"This little filly?"

In response Olivia turned and kicked the man in the crotch, causing him to leap and then crumple on the floor in agony.

"I said, enough!" commanded Brezhnev. "If we win, you will be our prisoners indeed. But we shall not be harsh. All we need is some good and able hands to give this station… some spring cleaning. We will allow you to leave after we are in a position ready to… extradite."

"And their ship!" spoke the scarred vet. "We can give them a tugboat in exchange!"

"Very good," agreed Brezhnev.

Maccabee protested. "Gideon, don't allow them this! Let's just leave now."

"No," came the reply, "if we leave now, they'll shoot us or destroy the ship. And they've insulted the memory of Ethan. I won't allow them to do this. I can't allow them!"

He turned to the pirate commander. "It's a deal."

Brezhnev shook his hand. "Good."

The largest and strongest of the Boys stood and walked amiably to Gideon, smiling. He had arms like the Pillars of Hercules, a neck as thick as a bull's leg, and a fifty-gallon barrel chest.

The brute planned on giving Gideon the beating of a lifetime.

Tempus Fugit

He didn't.

Gideon stood over the brute, a booted foot hovering above the man's neck. He had just finished the last blow, but he could have ended it then, ended the man's life right there. But something told him to do otherwise. Something told him to show compassion instead of blind fury. With perfect poise, he assumed another stance and returned his foot to the ground.

"All right," spoke Brezhnev dryly as his man groaned and bled on the floor. "you have some skill."

Gideon glared at him. Had the pirate leader not been no stranger to unexpected enemies, he would have winced. It almost seemed as if this young hotshot's eyes burned with a blue fire…

"You'll let us go?" asked Gideon.


"And you'll give us supplies and repairs?"

"We will."

"And," he pointed at the fallen brute. "We get his ship?"

Brezhnev stroked his beard and said thoughtfully, "Yes."


The other pirates were shocked and amazed, their angered dissipated by the unreality the fight had been. They gaped at Gideon, barely hurt by the muscleman's great strikes. This was one man they should not have fought. Maybe the rule-followers weren't so weak, after all.

Maccabee and Lizhong looked at each other. They had just seen the most furious, most indescribable fight of their lives. The over-muscled man had been no slowpoke, nor fool, yet Gideon had fought so well, so quickly, so much cleverer- it was almost as if he was inhuman.

Olivia, on the other hand, only cared that her lover was well. And he was.

Tempus Fugit

The pirates complained and griped the whole time, but they fixed the ship with Gideon looking over their shoulder to prevent sabotage. Not that they'd dare to. They were new at being scoundrels, and still retained a sense of military honor. And of course, even brigands have a code of conduct.

In the end the two parties did not become friends, but a truce remained. The bartender forgave Olivia and gave her and Gideon the present of a '23 bottle of finest Dom Perignon. ("I wouldn't want to waste it on these thugs," he had said) The pirates all gathered at the hangar to wish them goodbye and some even good luck with their mission. In the course of hours, something had been forged.

And as he looked through the window at Gideon leaving in the repaired Renaissance and (formerly) the Battalion's finest ship, Brezhnev knew for certain that he would one day meet the man again.