Chapter 10
Crossing of Paths The planet of Shakuras has normally been a quiet place. Very little has happened here in recent years to its inhabitants that would give them great cause for celebration. However, news of the stunning victory on Aiur has fueled this planet’s population into a frenzied state. A planet most of them had long considered lost to them is now possibly within their grasp. More forces of the Protoss are channeled through the massive gateway to reinforce those already there as more gateways are constructed to facilitate larger vessels of war. With their numbers now swelling from the addition of their dark brethren, the Protoss are eager to carry the fight to the Zerg.
Dozens of techs swarm over the skeletal structures of perhaps dozens of gateways under construction. Kreza watches them with some interest as he walks towards the central archives of learning. His mission is of far greater concern to all, perhaps the entire galaxy, and it is with that reason in mind that he hurries his pace. He passes through the bustling streets of the city as fellow Protoss comment on the recent chain of events. Those that take the time to break from their conversations pay their respects to the member of the Templar caste. Kreza can barely contain his joy at the prospects of returning to Aiur. However, pressing matters intrude on his thoughts as he nears the doorway to the archives. With a soft hiss, the twin crystal doors part for him to enter.
Kreza is immediately spotted upon entry by Chan’dras, one of the scholars and keeper of the scribes. Chan’dras is of the same age as Kreza, both have been friends for several centuries.
“En Taro Adun noble templar.”
“And to you as well Chan’dras but I have but two requests.”
“Name it and they shall be done.”
“I would appreciate it greatly if you would stop referring to me as noble templar,” says Kreza as his eyes flash with mischief. “We have know each other for too long for you to refer to me with such a title.”
Her eyes flashing with mischief as well, she replies, “As you wish… noble templar.”
Sighing with defeat, Kreza continues on with his next request. “The other request is more of a serious nature.”
“What is the matter that troubles you,” she asks turning serious.
“The Shelak, your tribe, was the closest to the ancient ones. The information that I posses regarding them is rather inaccurate and I was hoping you could enlighten me further.”
“You ask for no easy task,” she answers as she leads the way deeper into the archives. “You know that after the Xel’Naga left our world, most of the records that remained were either destroyed or lost.”
“I see,” grimly responds Kreza, “then it seems that I have wasted your time.”
“Do not be so quick to leave my old friend,” chides Chan’dras. “I recall saying that it would not be an easy task, not impossible.”
“So you have more information then?”
“For that you may thank our newly found lost brethren,” she states as they enter into a dimly lit chamber. “They appear to have retained most of the records from that time period before, during and after the Aeon of Strife.”
“How much of the records from that time period remain,” asks Kreza as he gazes upon the rows of crystals lining the chamber.”
“In fact mostly all of it,” she replies with pride in her tone. “Such a dreadful time really.” Turning to face him, she asks, “So what is it that you seek?”
“I require information regarding the Xel’Naga themselves; their ways and their culture. Information regarding their plans for us and as to whether they had any enemies would also be of great value.”
“Those requests will take some time to review,” she says as she gestures towards a distant section of the chamber.
“Then it would be wise to start now.” With that said, both of them set forth to review the ancient records recorded by their ancestors eons ago. Time passes swiftly as massive volumes of information is displayed for their viewing. An interesting discovery is made by Chan’dras in an ages old passage.
“I believe I have found something of interest for you.”
“What is it?” asks Kreza as he moves closer to view.
“There is a passage contained within this crystal regarding the purpose of the Xel’Naga experiments.”
“That is nothing new, it is common knowledge that the ancient ones sought to create a perfect being. It is probably irrelevant information,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“After all these seasons have past and you still lack patience,” she says as she shakes her head disapprovingly. “There is more to this that you might find disturbing.” With his interest perked by the change in her demeanor, Kreza sits down to observe her findings.
She inserts the ancient crystal and begins to point out several key points of interest. “It states in this passage that the ancient ones were not merely striving to make a perfect being, they sought to create a warrior, a champion of their cause and their purposes.”
“Does it mention as to what this champion was to protect against.”
“The passage does not specify exactly what this threat may be but it does stress one phrase repeatedly throughout. She activates several switches and a phrase materializes before them. “Ma’lylish Aki Eruzel’nas.”
“And what does this translate into?” asks Kreza with a feeling of dread falling over him.
“I am unsure as to the exact meaning but the closest I can derive from it is this: “Deliverers of Darkness.”
The room is deadly quiet except for the faint humming of machinery. This startling bit of information threatens to flow over Kreza like a dark wave. A new piece of the puzzle Zeratul sought has fallen into place and he can only wonder as to the great dangers that may soon appear. He tries to shakes his musings over the distant threats and fails miserably.
“Why has this never been noticed before?” he whispers softly.
“These records are very ancient and few have had reason to peruse through them.”
“I have matters to attend to, my thanks to you Chan’dras,” states Kreza quickly as he rises to leave. He is stopped as Chan’dras places her hand on his.
“Does a great threat loom upon us my old friend?,” she asks with concern in her tone.
“I… do not know. This bit of information is yet another piece of a puzzle that I and others with me have sought.” Turning to face her, he speaks, “You must not inform anyone of this. Such news could have dire repercussions.”
“I understand,” she replies softly. “Shall I continue the search through these records for any further information?”
“Yes, it would help greatly. I shall return shortly, I must inform Zeratul of this disturbing news.”
“May Adun watch over you Kreza.”
Turning slightly again to face her, he replies, “May he watch over us all. I fear that we will need all the help that we can get.” Kreza makes his way out of the archives and finds the paths darkened. Staring up towards a distant cluster of stars, he contemplates the utter peaceful appearance of the universe despite the great danger hiding out there in the darkness. With one final glance, he hurries off to establish contact with Aiur.
***
In a far off distant sector of the galaxy, everything is all but peaceful. A supply convoy plods along through the black lanes of space carrying vital supplies for the Dominion war machine. The battered cargo vessels are an inviting target for those brave, or foolish enough to try and claim them. The vessels alone carry within them enough supplies to keep a small army in business and that is what these raiders are counting on. The supply convoy is moving through the debris filled sector under control of the Kel-Morian Combine. Despite their prior independence from the now defunct Confederacy, they now serve the greater interest of the Dominion. As such, the escort of fighters and vessels are from that of the Dominion instead of the Combine. It is a revelation that the raiders are not happy with.
Situated in a distant debris field, several dozen fighters, heavy transports and two science vessels drift, with their engines cutback to minimum, as they try to blend in with the assorted floating junk. These raiders have been waiting impatiently for several hours now for their target to come their way. Initial intelligence reports indicated that it was supposed to be only lightly armed and escorted by just a local militia; an easy mission. Judging by the number of Dominion fighters and vessels, it seems that the intelligence division needs to improve their methods.
“So now what the hell are we supposed to do boss?”
“Yeah, we didn’t count on butting heads with Dominion forces,” adds another wraith pilot.
“Randall, what should we do?” asks the pilot of Wild 7. “We were ordered to try and avoid any contact with Dominion forces. We don’t need the attention.”
“I know… I know,” replies Randall with resignation in his voice. “But you know we need those supplies Mike.”
“Should I issue the recall order?”
“No, not yet,” says Razor as his mind works out the odds. “I think I’ve got a plan guys. It seems the vessels are the biggest threats to our teams right?”
“Yeah, they have more detection than we do,” replies Wild 10 sourly. “What have you got in mind boss?”
“Let’s give them some targets to chase instead. Strip away the fighter escorts with one group and have the second one take out the vessels and whatever’s left while covering the raiding parties.”
“Sounds like a good plan boss but I don’t think they’ll be stupid enough to leave the convoy defenseless. There’s bound to be at least one or two squadrons covering them,” adds Wild 4.
“So what?! That’s two a piece for us Warren. How long does it take you to pull a trigger?” mocks Squeezer.
“Don’t you worry how long it takes me to wax someone’s tail Dav,” growls Wild 4, “you watch you own butt out there instead.”
“Ok that’s enough of that crap,” snaps Razor. “Mike, raise the other two squadron leaders. Let them know that there’s a change in plans. They are to take one of our vessels with them and to swing around and hit the convoy from the opposite side; draw as many of them off as possible. That should clear most of them for us to take down.”
“Roger that boss. I sure hope this works,” replies Wild 7 wishfully.
“So do I Mike.”
Engines flare brightly as two squadrons of wraiths along with a science vessel rocket away from the debris field. Soon, the drive trails are mere pinpricks of light as they fade into the void. Time passes slowly as Razor awaits the transmission from the first group that they are in position. During that time, the convoy is on the verge of entering into the kill zone. He watches with growing interest as the range to targets decreases and hopes this plan works. He glances around his cockpit and is bathed by the friendly green glow from his gauges. He checks his weapons stores, relieved to find that at least this time he’s fully loaded. The convoy is directly ahead and upon nearing the field, the fighters shift into a more defensive stance. Apparently they aren’t as dumb as he thought, so much the better. An incoming signal draws his attention and he immediately keys his comm.
“All set on this end Randall,” replies Lt. Commander Rajan “Sultan” Assari of the 128th Tactical Space Combat Squadron, “The Cobras.”
“Roger that. Remember, your group has to draw as many fighters that you can away from the convoy if this is going to work.”
“Don’t worry Ran,” replies Rajan as he smiles wickedly, “we’ll give them something to remember us by. Strike leader out.”
Tightening his grip on the control stick, Razor keys the unit channel. “Ok boys, let’s heat up the weapons, it’s time to work.” The pilots of the 67th settle into their seats as weapon systems are readied. On the opposite side of the convoy two dozen fighters rocket forth from a littered field to engage the escorts. Warning sensors flash insanely on the Dominion ships as they pick up the approaching bandits.
“Bandits inbound boys! Let’s break’em up!” orders the Dominion commander. On command, half the escorts and science vessels break from the convoy and roar off to intercept the rapidly closing threats. The remaining fighters and the convoy accelerate and turn away; right towards the raiding group.
At maximum range, missiles erupt from the strike group and streak across the void seeking targets. Several managed to lock-on some of the Dominion science vessels despite the jamming and roar in. Four missiles impact on the hull of a science vessel and hammer the targeted craft. The warheads explode and blast it into flaming wreckage. Another science vessel catches three missiles and winks out of existence in a white and red fireball, flaming pieces flying off into the void. The Dominion forces begin to volley off missiles in return and two unfortunate wraiths catch them in the teeth, the fighters simply disappear. Laser fire begins to fill space as the fighters close within range of each other. Both sides lash out while at the same time trying to take out the other’s detection. On a single command, the strike group breaks off and turns to run; leading the escorts away from the convoy.
“Well it looks like they did their job,” comments Razor, “now it’s ours.” Throwing the throttle to the stops, Razor leads the raiding element on the approaching convoy. Missiles once again streak through space and target the remaining escorts and vessels. Caught looking at the threat from the rear, most of them never saw the approaching danger until half a dozen fighters and two vessels explode violently. Wraiths on both sides immediately begin to shimmer as their cloaks are engaged and a deadly game of cat and mouse begins. Missiles crisscross space and are punctuated by the occasional laser blast as the raiding transports move to board. “Now all we have to do is keep them dancing boys until the raiding parties are done,” comments Razor.
***
Further away in yet another debris field, a man watches the ensuing battle with great interest from the bridge of a Battlecruiser. “Well shit, I guess we can cancel our supply raid for today huh Bill?”
“It sure looks that way sir,” replies the XO. “A new pirate gang you think?”
“No,” answers the captain thoughtfully, “they are too well coordinated for your typical, run-of-the-mill pirate gang.”
“Ex-confed or Dominion forces then,” offers the XO. “Who else hasn’t old Arcturus ticked off lately.”
With a soft snort the captain replies, “You’re right about that. Still… there’s something more about this group.” Gesturing towards a comm officer, the captain asks, “Can you get a long distance scan on their signal traffic?”
“No problem Cap’n,” answers the officer. “It’s a little scrambled but I can run most of it on what we have on file.” With a flurry of movement over a console, the comm officer comes back with an answer. “Not quite sure if this is right but the computer indicates their signals are UED,” says the officer with a look of puzzlement on his face.
“UED?! I thought they were all destroyed sir,” comments the XO.
“Obviously those reports are mistaken. Remind me to have a chat with the boys down in intel later. In the meantime, let’s hang back and try to follow them home. I’d be real interested to know as to what they’re up to these days.”
“Yes sir, I’ll notify the rest of the fleet that we’ll be standing down for now.”
“Thanks Bill.”
“You’re welcome sir,” replies the XO.
As his XO is preparing to walk off, the captain adds one more comment, “Oh and one other thing Bill, drop the sir crap ok. Call me Jim or Cap’n instead.” Turning back to the viewport, the captain contemplates this new discovery. The galaxy just got a whole lot more interesting he thinks as he watches the drama unfold.
