Liberty's Crusade (Starcraft #1)

( 50 )

Overview

Far in the future, 60,000 light-years from Earth, a loose confederacy of Terran exiles is locked in battle with the enigmatic Protoss and the ruthless Zerg Swarm. Each species struggles to ensure its own survival among the stars in a war that will herald the beginning of mankind's greatest chapter ? or foretell its violent, bloody end.
Danny Liberty was a good reporter...too good. When his investigations struck too close to the heart of the corrupt Terran Confederacy, he faced a...

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Overview

Far in the future, 60,000 light-years from Earth, a loose confederacy of Terran exiles is locked in battle with the enigmatic Protoss and the ruthless Zerg Swarm. Each species struggles to ensure its own survival among the stars in a war that will herald the beginning of mankind's greatest chapter — or foretell its violent, bloody end.
Danny Liberty was a good reporter...too good. When his investigations struck too close to the heart of the corrupt Terran Confederacy, he faced a simple choice: continue his current series of exposés, or take a hazardous new assignment covering the Marines on the front lines of the Koprulu Sector. It didn't take him long to decide....
Behind the attacks of the Zerg and the Protoss lies the story of a lifetime, but every piece of information blurs the mystery further. Thrown into the middle of a war where the outcome will determine mankind's very survival, the only thing that Danny Liberty knows for sure is that the only person he can trust to keep him alive is himself.
Liberty's Crusade
The first in an epic new series of space warfare novels set in the world of the bestselling computer game!

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780671041489
  • Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
  • Publication date: 3/28/2001
  • Series: Starcraft Series , #1
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 272
  • Sales rank: 462,720
  • Product dimensions: 6.80 (w) x 4.12 (h) x 0.76 (d)

Meet the Author

Jeff Grubb writes novels, designs games, and creates worlds. He lives in Seattle.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1: The Press Gang

Before the war, things were different. Hell, back then, we were just making our daily living, doing our jobs, drawing our paychecks, and stabbing our fellow men and women in the back. We had no idea how bad things would get. We were fat and happy like maggots on a dead animal. There was enough sporadic violence — rebellions and revolutions and balky colonial governments — to keep the military going, but not enough to really threaten the lifestyles we had grown accustomed to. We were, in retrospect, fat and sassy.

And if a real war broke out, well, it was the military's worry. The marines' worry. Not ours.

— The Liberty Manifesto

The city sprawled beneath Mike's feet like an overturned bucket of jade cockroaches. From the dizzying height of Handy Anderson's office, he could almost see the horizon between the taller buildings. The city reached that far, forming a jagged, spiked tear along the edge of the world.

The city of Tarsonis, on the planet Tarsonis. The most important city on the most important planet of the Confederacy of Man. The city so great they named it twice. The city so large its suburbs had greater populations than some planets. A shining beacon of civilization, keeper of the memories of an Earth now lost to history, myth, and earlier generations.

A sleeping dragon. And Michael Liberty could not resist twisting its tail.

"Come back from the edge there, Mickey," said Anderson. The editor-in-chief was firmly ensconced at his desk, a desk as far away from the panoramic view as possible.

Michael Liberty liked to think there was a note of concern in his boss's voice.

"Don't worry," said Mike. "I'm not thinking of jumping." He suppressed a smile.

Mike and the rest of the newsroom knew that the editor-in-chief was acrophobic but could not bear to surrender his stratospheric office view. So on the rare occasions when Liberty was summoned into his boss's office, he always stood near the window. Most of the time he and the other drudges and news hacks worked way down on the fourth floor or in the broadcast booths in the building's basement.

"Jumping I'm not worried about," said Anderson. "Jumping I can handle. Jumping would solve a lot of my problems and give me a lead for tomorrow's edition. I'm more worried about some sniper taking you out from another building."

Liberty turned toward his boss. "Bloodstains that hard to get out of the carpet?"

"Part of it," said Anderson, smiling. "It's also a bitch to replace the glass."

Liberty look one last look at the traffic crawling far below and returned to the overstuffed chairs facing the desk. Anderson tried to be nonchalant, but Mike noted that the editor let out a long, slow breath as Mike moved away from the window.

Michael Liberty settled himself into one of Anderson's chairs. The chairs were designed to look like normal furniture, but they were stuffed so that they sank an extra inch or two when someone sat down. This made the balding editor-in-chief with his comically oversized eyebrows look more imposing. Mike knew the trick, was not impressed, and set his feet up on the desk.

"So what's the beef?" the reporter asked.

"Have a cigar, Mickey?" Anderson motioned with an open palm toward a teak humidor.

Mike hated being called Mickey. He touched his empty shirt pocket, where he normally stashed a pack of cigarettes. "I'm on the wagon. Trying to cut down."

"They're from beyond the Jaandaran embargo," said Anderson temptingly. "Rolled on the thighs of cinnamon-shaded maidens."

Mike held up both hands and smiled broadly. Everyone knew that Anderson was too cheap to get anything beyond the standard el ropos manufactured in some bootleg basement. But the smile was intended to reassure.

"What's the beef?" Mike repeated.

"You've really done it this time," said Anderson, sighing. "Your series on the construction kickbacks on the new Municipal Hall."

"Good stuff. The series should rattle a few cages."

"They've already been rattled," replied Anderson, his chin sinking down to touch his chest. This was known as the bearer-of-bad-news position. It was something that Anderson had learned at some management course but that made him look like a mating ledge-pigeon.

Crap, thought Mike. He's going to spike the series.

As if reading his thoughts, Anderson said, "Don't worry, we're going to run the rest of the series. It's solid reporting, well-documented, and best of all, it's true. But you have to know you've made a few people very uncomfortable."

Mike mentally ran through the series. It had been one of his better ones, a classic involving a petty offender who was caught in the wrong place (a public park) at the wrong time (way after midnight) with the wrong thing (mildly radioactive construction waste from the Municipal Hall project). Said offender was more than willing to pass on the name of the man who sent him on this late-night escapade. That individual was in turn willing to tell Mike about some other interesting matters involving the new hall, and so forth, until Mike had, instead of a single story, a whole series about a huge network of graft and corruption that the Universe Network News audience ate up with their collective spoons.

Mike mentally ran through the ward heelers, low-level thugs, and members of the Tarsonis City Council that he had skewered in print, discarding each in turn as a suspect. Any of those august individuals might want to take a shot at him, but such a threat wasn't enough to make Handy Anderson nervous.

The editor-in-chief saw Mike's blank expression and added, "You've made a few powerful, venerable people very uncomfortable."

Mike's left eyebrow rose. Anderson was talking about one of the ruling Families, the power behind the Confederacy for most of its existence, since those early days when the first colony ships (hell, prison ships) landed and/or crashed on various planets in the sector. Somewhere in his reporting, he had nailed somebody with pull, or perhaps somebody close enough to one of the Families to make the old venerables nervous.

Mike resolved to go back over his notes and see what kind of linkages he could make. Perhaps a distaff cousin to one of the Old Families, or a black sheep, or maybe even a direct kickback. God knew that the Old Families ran things from behind the scenes since the year naught. If he could nail one of them...

Mike wondered if he was visibly salivating at the prospect.

In the meantime Handy Anderson had risen from his seat and strolled around the side of his desk, perching on the corner nearest Mike. (Another move directly out of the management lectures, Mike realized. Hell, Anderson had assigned him to cover those lectures once.) "Mike, I want you to know you're on dangerous ground here."

Oh God, he called me Mike, thought Liberty. Next he'll be looking plaintively out the window as if lost in thought, wrestling with a momentous decision.

He said, "I'm used to dangerous ground, boss."

"I know, I know. I just worry about those around you. Your sources. Your friends. Your co-workers..."

"Not to mention my superiors."

"...all of whom would be heartbroken if something horrible happened to you."

"Particularly if they were standing nearby when it happened," added the reporter.

Anderson shrugged and stared plaintively out the full-length window. Mike realized that whatever Anderson was afraid of, it was worse than his fear of heights. And this was a man who, if office rumor was correct (and it was), kept a locked room in the sub-basement that contained dirt on most of the celebrities and important citizens of the city.

The pause dragged beyond a moment into a minute. Finally Mike broke. He gave a polite cough and said, "So you have an idea how to handle this 'dangerous ground'?"

Handy Anderson nodded slowly. "I want to print the series. It's good work."

"But you don't want me anywhere in the immediate vicinity when the next part of that story hits the street."

"I'm thinking of your own safety, Mickey, it's..."

"Dangerous ground," finished Mike. "I heard. Here be dragons. Perhaps it would be time for an extended vacation? Maybe a cabin in the mountains?"

"I was thinking more of a special assignment."

Of course, thought Mike. That way I won't have the chance to figure out whose tail I've inadvertently twisted. And give those involved time to cover their tracks.

"Another part of the Universe News Network empire?" Mike said with a broad smile, at the same time wondering what godforsaken colony world he would be doing agricultural reports from.

"More of a roving reporter," teased Anderson.

"How roving?" Mike's smile suddenly became flinty and brittle. "Will I need shots for off-planet?"

"Better than getting shot for being on-planet. Sorry, bad joke. The answer is yes, I'm thinking definitely off-planet."

"Come on, spill. Which hellhole do you want to hide me in?"

"I was thinking of the Confederate Marines. As a military reporter, of course."

"What!"

"It would be a temporary posting, of course," continued the editor.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Sort of 'our fighting men in space,' battling against the various forces of rebellion that threaten our great Confederacy. There are rumors that Arcturus Mengsk is rallying more support in the Fringe Worlds. Could turn really hot at any moment."

"The marines?" sputtered Mike. "The Confederate Marines are the biggest collection of criminals in the known universe, outside of the Tarsonis City Council."

"Mike, please. Everyone has some criminal blood in them. Hell, all the planets of the Confederacy were settled by exiled convicts."

"Yeah, but most people like to think we grew out of that. The marines still make that one of their basic recruiting requirements. Hell, do you know how many of them have been brain-panned?"

"Neurally Resocialized," corrected Anderson. "No more than fifty percent per unit these days, I understand. Less in some places. And the resocialization is more often done with noninvasive procedures. You probably won't notice."

"Yeah, and they pump them so full of stimpacks they'd kill their own grandpas on the right command."

"Exactly the sort of common misconception that your work can counter," said Anderson, both eyebrows raised in practiced sincerity.

"Look, most of the politicos I've met are naturally nuts. The marines are nuts and then they started messing with their heads. No. The marines are not an option."

"It'd make for some good stories. You'd probably get some good contacts."

"No."

"Reporters with experience with the military get perks," said the editor-in-chief. "You get a green tag on your file, and that carries weight with the more venerable families of Tarsonis. In some cases even forgiveness."

"Sorry. Not interested."

"I'll give you your own column."

A pause. Finally Mike said, "How big a column?"

"Full column-page print, or five minutes stand-up for the broadcast. Under your byline, of course."

"Regular?"

"You file, I'll fill."

Another pause. "A raise with that?"

Anderson named a figure, and Mike nodded.

"That's impressive," he said.

"Not chump change," agreed the editor-in-chief.

"I'm a little old to be planet-hopping."

"There's no real danger. And if something does flare up, there's combat pay. Automatic."

"Fifty percent brain-panned?" Mike asked.

"If that."

Another pause. Then Mike said, "Well, it sounds like a challenge."

"And you're just the man for a challenge."

"And it can't be worse than covering the Tarsonis City Council," Mike mused, feeling himself sliding down the slippery slope to acceptance.

"My thoughts exactly," his editor agreed.

"And if it would help the network..." Yep, Mike thought, he was on the edge, poised to pitch over into the void.

"You would be a shining light to us all," said Anderson. "A well-paid, shining light. Wave the flag a little, get some personal stories, ride around in a battlecruiser, play some cards. Don't worry about us back here at the office."

"Cush posting?"

"Cushiest. I've got some pull, you know. Was an old green-tag myself. Three months work, tops. A lifetime of rewards."

There was a final pause, a chasm as deep as the concrete canyon that yawned beyond the window.

"All right," said Mike, "I'll do it."

"Wonderful!" Anderson reached for the humidor, then caught himself and instead offered Mike his hand. "You won't regret it."

"Why do I feel that I already do?" Michael Liberty asked in a small voice as the editor's meaty, sweaty hand ensnared his own.

Copyright © 2001 by Blizzard Entertainment

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First Chapter

Chapter 1: The Press Gang


Before the war, things were different. Hell, back then, we were just making our daily living, doing our jobs, drawing our paychecks, and stabbing our fellow men and women in the back. We had no idea how bad things would get. We were fat and happy like maggots on a dead animal. There was enough sporadic violence — rebellions and revolutions and balky colonial governments — to keep the military going, but not enough to really threaten the lifestyles we had grown accustomed to. We were, in retrospect, fat and sassy.

And if a real war broke out, well, it was the military's worry. The marines' worry. Not ours.

— The Liberty Manifesto


The city sprawled beneath Mike's feet like an overturned bucket of jade cockroaches. From the dizzying height of Handy Anderson's office, he could almost see the horizon between the taller buildings. The city reached that far, forming a jagged, spiked tear along the edge of the world.

The city of Tarsonis, on the planet Tarsonis. The most important city on the most important planet of the Confederacy of Man. The city so great they named it twice. The city so large its suburbs had greater populations than some planets. A shining beacon of civilization, keeper of the memories of an Earth now lost to history, myth, and earlier generations.

A sleeping dragon. And Michael Liberty could not resist twisting its tail.

"Come back from the edge there, Mickey," said Anderson. The editor-in-chief was firmly ensconced at his desk, a desk as far away from the panoramic view as possible.

Michael Liberty liked to think there was a note of concern in his boss's voice.

"Don't worry," said Mike. "I'm not thinking of jumping." He suppressed a smile.

Mike and the rest of the newsroom knew that the editor-in-chief was acrophobic but could not bear to surrender his stratospheric office view. So on the rare occasions when Liberty was summoned into his boss's office, he always stood near the window. Most of the time he and the other drudges and news hacks worked way down on the fourth floor or in the broadcast booths in the building's basement.

"Jumping I'm not worried about," said Anderson. "Jumping I can handle. Jumping would solve a lot of my problems and give me a lead for tomorrow's edition. I'm more worried about some sniper taking you out from another building."

Liberty turned toward his boss. "Bloodstains that hard to get out of the carpet?"

"Part of it," said Anderson, smiling. "It's also a bitch to replace the glass."

Liberty look one last look at the traffic crawling far below and returned to the overstuffed chairs facing the desk. Anderson tried to be nonchalant, but Mike noted that the editor let out a long, slow breath as Mike moved away from the window.

Michael Liberty settled himself into one of Anderson's chairs. The chairs were designed to look like normal furniture, but they were stuffed so that they sank an extra inch or two when someone sat down. This made the balding editor-in-chief with his comically oversized eyebrows look more imposing. Mike knew the trick, was not impressed, and set his feet up on the desk.

"So what's the beef?" the reporter asked.

"Have a cigar, Mickey?" Anderson motioned with an open palm toward a teak humidor.

Mike hated being called Mickey. He touched his empty shirt pocket, where he normally stashed a pack of cigarettes. "I'm on the wagon. Trying to cut down."

"They're from beyond the Jaandaran embargo," said Anderson temptingly. "Rolled on the thighs of cinnamon-shaded maidens."

Mike held up both hands and smiled broadly. Everyone knew that Anderson was too cheap to get anything beyond the standard el ropos manufactured in some bootleg basement. But the smile was intended to reassure.

"What's the beef?" Mike repeated.

"You've really done it this time," said Anderson, sighing. "Your series on the construction kickbacks on the new Municipal Hall."

"Good stuff. The series should rattle a few cages."

"They've already been rattled," replied Anderson, his chin sinking down to touch his chest. This was known as the bearer-of-bad-news position. It was something that Anderson had learned at some management course but that made him look like a mating ledge-pigeon.

Crap, thought Mike. He's going to spike the series.

As if reading his thoughts, Anderson said, "Don't worry, we're going to run the rest of the series. It's solid reporting, well-documented, and best of all, it's true. But you have to know you've made a few people very uncomfortable."

Mike mentally ran through the series. It had been one of his better ones, a classic involving a petty offender who was caught in the wrong place (a public park) at the wrong time (way after midnight) with the wrong thing (mildly radioactive construction waste from the Municipal Hall project). Said offender was more than willing to pass on the name of the man who sent him on this late-night escapade. That individual was in turn willing to tell Mike about some other interesting matters involving the new hall, and so forth, until Mike had, instead of a single story, a whole series about a huge network of graft and corruption that the Universe Network News audience ate up with their collective spoons.

Mike mentally ran through the ward heelers, low-level thugs, and members of the Tarsonis City Council that he had skewered in print, discarding each in turn as a suspect. Any of those august individuals might want to take a shot at him, but such a threat wasn't enough to make Handy Anderson nervous.

The editor-in-chief saw Mike's blank expression and added, "You've made a few powerful, venerable people very uncomfortable."

Mike's left eyebrow rose. Anderson was talking about one of the ruling Families, the power behind the Confederacy for most of its existence, since those early days when the first colony ships (hell, prison ships) landed and/or crashed on various planets in the sector. Somewhere in his reporting, he had nailed somebody with pull, or perhaps somebody close enough to one of the Families to make the old venerables nervous.

Mike resolved to go back over his notes and see what kind of linkages he could make. Perhaps a distaff cousin to one of the Old Families, or a black sheep, or maybe even a direct kickback. God knew that the Old Families ran things from behind the scenes since the year naught. If he could nail one of them...

Mike wondered if he was visibly salivating at the prospect.

In the meantime Handy Anderson had risen from his seat and strolled around the side of his desk, perching on the corner nearest Mike. (Another move directly out of the management lectures, Mike realized. Hell, Anderson had assigned him to cover those lectures once.) "Mike, I want you to know you're on dangerous ground here."

Oh God, he called me Mike, thought Liberty. Next he'll be looking plaintively out the window as if lost in thought, wrestling with a momentous decision.

He said, "I'm used to dangerous ground, boss."

"I know, I know. I just worry about those around you. Your sources. Your friends. Your co-workers..."

"Not to mention my superiors."

"...all of whom would be heartbroken if something horrible happened to you."

"Particularly if they were standing nearby when it happened," added the reporter.

Anderson shrugged and stared plaintively out the full-length window. Mike realized that whatever Anderson was afraid of, it was worse than his fear of heights. And this was a man who, if office rumor was correct (and it was), kept a locked room in the sub-basement that contained dirt on most of the celebrities and important citizens of the city.

The pause dragged beyond a moment into a minute. Finally Mike broke. He gave a polite cough and said, "So you have an idea how to handle this 'dangerous ground'?"

Handy Anderson nodded slowly. "I want to print the series. It's good work."

"But you don't want me anywhere in the immediate vicinity when the next part of that story hits the street."

"I'm thinking of your own safety, Mickey, it's..."

"Dangerous ground," finished Mike. "I heard. Here be dragons. Perhaps it would be time for an extended vacation? Maybe a cabin in the mountains?"

"I was thinking more of a special assignment."

Of course, thought Mike. That way I won't have the chance to figure out whose tail I've inadvertently twisted. And give those involved time to cover their tracks.

"Another part of the Universe News Network empire?" Mike said with a broad smile, at the same time wondering what godforsaken colony world he would be doing agricultural reports from.

"More of a roving reporter," teased Anderson.

"How roving?" Mike's smile suddenly became flinty and brittle. "Will I need shots for off-planet?"

"Better than getting shot for being on-planet. Sorry, bad joke. The answer is yes, I'm thinking definitely off-planet."

"Come on, spill. Which hellhole do you want to hide me in?"

"I was thinking of the Confederate Marines. As a military reporter, of course."

"What!"

"It would be a temporary posting, of course," continued the editor.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Sort of 'our fighting men in space,' battling against the various forces of rebellion that threaten our great Confederacy. There are rumors that Arcturus Mengsk is rallying more support in the Fringe Worlds. Could turn really hot at any moment."

"The marines?" sputtered Mike. "The Confederate Marines are the biggest collection of criminals in the known universe, outside of the Tarsonis City Council."

"Mike, please. Everyone has some criminal blood in them. Hell, all the planets of the Confederacy were settled by exiled convicts."

"Yeah, but most people like to think we grew out of that. The marines still make that one of their basic recruiting requirements. Hell, do you know how many of them have been brain-panned?"

"Neurally Resocialized," corrected Anderson. "No more than fifty percent per unit these days, I understand. Less in some places. And the resocialization is more often done with noninvasive procedures. You probably won't notice."

"Yeah, and they pump them so full of stimpacks they'd kill their own grandpas on the right command."

"Exactly the sort of common misconception that your work can counter," said Anderson, both eyebrows raised in practiced sincerity.

"Look, most of the politicos I've met are naturally nuts. The marines are nuts and then they started messing with their heads. No. The marines are not an option."

"It'd make for some good stories. You'd probably get some good contacts."

"No."

"Reporters with experience with the military get perks," said the editor-in-chief. "You get a green tag on your file, and that carries weight with the more venerable families of Tarsonis. In some cases even forgiveness."

"Sorry. Not interested."

"I'll give you your own column."

A pause. Finally Mike said, "How big a column?"

"Full column-page print, or five minutes stand-up for the broadcast. Under your byline, of course."

"Regular?"

"You file, I'll fill."

Another pause. "A raise with that?"

Anderson named a figure, and Mike nodded.

"That's impressive," he said.

"Not chump change," agreed the editor-in-chief.

"I'm a little old to be planet-hopping."

"There's no real danger. And if something does flare up, there's combat pay. Automatic."

"Fifty percent brain-panned?" Mike asked.

"If that."

Another pause. Then Mike said, "Well, it sounds like a challenge."

"And you're just the man for a challenge."

"And it can't be worse than covering the Tarsonis City Council," Mike mused, feeling himself sliding down the slippery slope to acceptance.

"My thoughts exactly," his editor agreed.

"And if it would help the network..." Yep, Mike thought, he was on the edge, poised to pitch over into the void.

"You would be a shining light to us all," said Anderson. "A well-paid, shining light. Wave the flag a little, get some personal stories, ride around in a battlecruiser, play some cards. Don't worry about us back here at the office."

"Cush posting?"

"Cushiest. I've got some pull, you know. Was an old green-tag myself. Three months work, tops. A lifetime of rewards."

There was a final pause, a chasm as deep as the concrete canyon that yawned beyond the window.

"All right," said Mike, "I'll do it."

"Wonderful!" Anderson reached for the humidor, then caught himself and instead offered Mike his hand. "You won't regret it."

"Why do I feel that I already do?" Michael Liberty asked in a small voice as the editor's meaty, sweaty hand ensnared his own.

Copyright © 2001 by Blizzard Entertainment

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 5
( 50 )
Rating Distribution

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(41)

4 Star

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 51 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 11, 2005

    Better than the Terran Campaign

    Ths book was amazing!!! I've played the Terran Campaign and could visualize exactly where Liberty was. The details are slightly different, but more real. You've got to play the campaign again after reading this book and imagine what's going on in the background!!!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 25, 2005

    Incredible detail to the story of Starcraft

    Liberty's crusade showed me the true story behind Starcraft in its incredibly detailed cover to cover story. I recommend this story to young and old readers who enjoy the worlds of Starcraft or any Blizzard title for that matter.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 21, 2004

    libertys crusade is the best book ever made

    this has got to be the best book in the world i coant wait to raed the next one.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 23, 2004

    Great Novel

    This is well-wriiten and it runs smoothly along with the events of the game. I highly recommend reading this if you have played the game, and of course for StarCraft and Sci-Fi fans.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 21, 2014

    Fucking great srarcraft

    So cool!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted October 31, 2005

    The True Starcraft

    The book starts almost exactly like the game, but the book is much better. As liberty goes with Mengsk throught the worlds, destroying the plannets, one by one. As Liberty follows behind the marshal Raynor and his men in the Jacobs Instalation. As Mengsk orders Sarah into the Confederate base camp on Anitga Prime. Antiga Prime is where I learned a lot of new things that a really didnt know in the game. It is a good thing that the book and the game arent completly the same, so you can read the book, andstill be supprised.It was very good and detailed, especialy in the beggining. I strongly reccomend that if you have not read the book and played the game, you should do so. You should faollow along in the book as you play the game, mission by mission. I think Jeff Grubb should have written the other two, that would be my day. You may see me on Starcraft: Ofnir :

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 5, 2004

    AWESOME!!!!!!!!

    Plenty of action and Gore. Very descriptive. Couldnt put it down.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 1, 2004

    Starcraft

    Starraft Liberty's Crusade Is sn ecelentbook for thoes who have played Starcraft since Keragin is the second mostimportant person in the book since her and jim Raynor venture manny planets and set off PSI emmiters to help the protoss destroy parts of the confederates chain of planets.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 14, 2004

    Live the Terran Campaign Firsthand!

    This book takes some major events of the Terran Campaign on Starcraft and turns it into an incredible book. I was totally involved and could actually smell the blood of the zerglings as I read. You'll fly through the pages at hyperspeed. In the end, however, you'll be very upset with Jeff Grubb for actually ending the book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 6, 2003

    Liberty's Crusade is a seriously sweet read!

    As a Starcraft fan, i found the book very cool. I have read it several times, and enjoyed it each time. I love the cool excepts from Liberty's Manifesto at the front of each chapter- this guy is really quotable. The characterization of Kerrigan was amazing- Mengsk too. The action was mostly good, not as good as in Speed of Darkness though. There wasa lot packed into such a small novel, though. It should have been longer. Buy it- read it- bug all your friends till they buy it too. (there, taht should get my review on the website)

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 8, 2003

    Ok... it's just so cool

    I'm telling you: THIS IS A REALLY GREAT BOOK I LOVED IT. READ IT, AND IT'LL REALLY HOLD YOU IN FRONT OF IT. Unfortunately, i haven't read the other books cause in my country i don't get them, i have this one from USA, but it was cool and i played both starcraft and the expansion.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 25, 2003

    Awsome

    Buy this book as soon as you can! This book has alot of actions and adventures. You must read it!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 12, 2003

    i cant put it in word but it was the best book by far

    i loved this book it was so in dept in the personality and gives you a moral lesson about life while you read it i wont tell you becuse you have to read it i play SC and i love the game but the books take you to the univers of the world you command

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 26, 2003

    WOW

    this is the best book i have ever read. It has great plot development, great characters, and great action. A must read for all SC fans!!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 29, 2002

    Awesome book, even if your not a SC fan!

    I am a big SC fan. This book was so much more in depth than the game. I dont read much, but this book is definately a turn on. I totaly recomend this book to everyone!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 29, 2002

    AMAZING!!!!!!

    Ok, this ones for all the SC fans all over, if you like the game, then you will definatly love this book!! the book follows the game so well but it puts in the stuff in between you miss in the game!!! this is highly reccomended!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 12, 2002

    "Crusade" Compliments Starcraft Successfully

    "Liberty's Crusade" compliments the game of "STARCRAFT" perfectly. Perfectly described details of dealing with the Zerg and Protoss gives players an added dimension of what they're dealing with when actually playing the game itself. Fast paced and nicely written, "Liberty's Crusade" is a big bonus to what "Starcraft" is all about.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 17, 2002

    If you loved the game you will love this

    Follows the events of the game but goes more in depth. Mainly stars a reporter named Mike Liberty but also stars the characters from the video game,Jim Raynor,and Sara Kerrigan.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 6, 2002

    A MUST READ for StarCraft fans and space novel fans alike!

    This book follows the game very well, and if you are not a StarCraft fan, this book will change your mind....

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 16, 2002

    A Truly excelent Space Adventure

    This book was so well written. It takes the charecters from a best-selling pc game and puts so much more depth into them, as well as the species, the planets, and the original story from the game. I recommend this book to anyone who wants to read an action-packed story. As a player of the game, I loved this book and appreciated the whole idea of StarCraft even more. And the people who never have played the game or dont know what StarCraft is, will still love the book and it will even temp the novice to play the game. I truly recommend this novel and can't wait to get started on the second.

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