The pilot scans the immediate area around him as his fighter continues purposely forward through the cold void of space. The high pitched murmur of his engines surround him and his gauges bathe the interior with a soft green glow that he has come to consider his shield. The UED forces continue their lonely journey to what passes as home for them these days. In an attempt to keep his eyes from focusing on one object too long, he continues his routine of scanning around his cockpit for any tell-tales signs of trouble and is pleased to see that his systems still read nominal. However, everything is far from perfect as a soft insistent beep followed by a glowing red light draws a slight frown from him. He glances down yet again at his damage screens and growls in annoyance. His wing sensors are reporting a problem from the damage that was recently sustained. Several sections of the internal grid in his starboard wing are on the verge of failure and that will most likely result in a few days of downtime for his bird. “Man…” he sighs softly, “the chief is going to have my ass for making more work for her.”
“You say something boss?” asks the pilot of Wild 7.
“Ahh… nothing Mike, just thinking about how much grief the chief is going to give me about my bird,” he grumbles jokingly.
“If you think that’s bad boss,” asks Wild 5 pointedly, “imagine the explaining that Saki is going to have to do about HIS bird when we get back!”
“F*** off Dav!” snaps Wild 6 from a nearby transport. The other pilots laugh at the verbal exchange from two of their members.
“Damn… I swear you two are worse than a married couple,” comments Razor as he continues to scan space around him. He looks back and sees their recently acquired prizes continuing to hold station with their escorts.
“Hey Marine One, those merchies give you guys much trouble about their new accommodations?”
“Nope,” comes the distant tinny reply from Colonel Rick Westland, “not like that had much choice in the matter anyway Randall. It’s kinda hard to argue with a man with a gun commander. Besides, they should be happy we let them have at least one cargo ship to collect their pilots and send them on their way.”
“Once Mengsk hears about what happened, I seriously doubt they’re going to get a warm welcome when they get home,” replies Razor dryly.
“You got that right fly-boy, they’ll probably wish we spaced them instead of sending them home to face the music,” adds Westland as he laughs heartily.
“Tallyho! There’s your ride home buzz boys bearing 125.8!” announces a tactical controller with jubilation onboard the Galatea; a UED fighter carrier drops back into real-space with a flash of pseudo-motion to the left of the raiders.
“Copy that Galatea,” replies Razor as he shifts his fighters over to the new heading. “Squads two and three you’re in the chute first, we’ll maintain CAP till you board.”
“Roger that boss man, see you back at the barn Ran,” answers Sultan as his and the other squadron rockets off into a recovery pattern.
***
“What the hell?!” asks a controller onboard the UED science vessel Copernicus.
“You have something to report lieutenant?” asks the commander.
“I just detected a brief contact on my scopes ma’am but it faded,” comes the confused answer.
“Where you able to get enough for a profile?”
“Negative, it was too brief to get much more than a weak return.”
“Could it be a glitch from some damaged systems,” she offers as she glances around at the burned out stations in the bridge.
“Negative ma’am, the sensor packages are hardened and what little that was damaged has already been repaired,” the controller states as he shakes his head slightly. “Sensors tell me one thing, but my hunch tells me that there is definitely something out there.”
“Terrific,” she growls as she curses silently under her breath. Commander Michelle Nash continues to glare at the display as if daring it to reveal the signal again. With her lips purse tightly, she considers the shadowy sensor artifact and then finally decides to err on the side of caution. “Get me Lt. Commander O’Donnel on the comm,” she orders quietly.
Mere seconds pass until familiar voice issues forth from the speaker. “Razor here.”
“Commander, we’ve just picked up a possible target in the area.”
“Shit,” swears Razor softly, “I thought we swept our tail clear when we vacated that sector. Are you sure about that contact report Copernicus?” asks Razor as he punches his fighter’s sensors to long range.
“That’s the problem Razor, sensors are telling us nothing but Middleton says otherwise. It could be nothing but he’s got a hunch about this… and I generally trust his hunches… it just doesn’t seem right…” she says as her words trail off.
“Ok… we'll check it out but we can’t linger here for long,” he states as he pulls his fighter to the intercept course, “our endurance time is almost exceeded. We’ll do a quick fish-hook search pattern and then we’re outta here.”
“Copy that commander. We’ll burst a signal out now for them to be ready for unexpected guests just to be on the safe side at the rally point. Good hunting commander,” she adds.
Razor doesn’t hear her last words as the sudden roar of his afterburners accelerating him forward drowns her voice out. The sudden pressure from the acceleration forces him back into his chair and he inhales deeply for a moment as his inertial dampers struggle to compensate. “Wilds two through five, you’re with me, the rest of you continue your CAP.”
“Copy that boss,” replies Wild 7, “you expecting trouble?”
“Don’t think so Mike but it doesn’t hurt to be sure,” he answers back as he arms the last of his weapons. “Heat’em up boys, if we find something we vape it… no questions asked.”
He gets a chorus of somber replies as the five Wraiths rocket ahead on their intercept course. Lights dim briefly all over the science vessel as the Copernicus transmits a massive signal to their waiting forces. The lights dim a second time as the signal is repeated for good measure.
***
“Power the core back to 5%,” comes a tense whispered command from onboard the trailing recon vessel. The systems dim on board even further as the soft thrumming of the engines cease.
“Raynor is not gonna be happy,” says a nervous voice.
“They haven’t found us yet Ensign,” calmly replies the commander of the Stalker.
“They just sent a burst signal sir,” states the comm officer.
“We’ll worry about it later,” whispers the commander, “here they come…”
***
The five incoming wraiths blast past the cloaked vessel as they quickly shift into a complicated search pattern. Coached by the readings from their vessel, the fighters continue to scan the area for their elusive prey.
“There’s nothing out here but dust and particles boss.”
“Nothing… not a damn thing out here,” replies Razor with disgust as he rocks his fighter over to a new track. “Michelle you have any good news for us?”
“Sorry commander, we’re not reading anything out there anymore,” comes the distant voice. “We should be able to read it if it’s a cloaked wraith or something but so far zip. Maybe it was just a sensor glitch,” she concedes sheepishly.
“No… there’s something out here,” he says as he scans the area around him. “I can’t see it but I can feel it…” he adds with a grunt as he bites his lower lip. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to waste hunting for phantoms. We’re heading back to the barn.” The five wraiths immediately drop into formation and rocket off towards the distant carrier.
“Copy that Razor, we bursted the signal out so they’ll be ready for us at the rendezvous when we get there.”
The freighters and transports are the first to jump out followed closely by the vessels. The fighters quickly board the carrier once the area is cleared and with a flash of energy, disappear through the rapidly shrinking jump point.
***
Several minutes pass before the small crew of the Stalker breath a collective sigh of relief. An all clear is passed and systems once dormant are quickly brought back online.
“Drop the comm buoy and let’s get ready to follow them,” states Commander Joel Zanchowski calmly, “inform Jim that we’ll trail them to the next point and wait for them to catch up.”
“Aye commander. We’re all set... buoy is away.” With a brief flash of metal and light, a small metallic cylinder is ejected from the cloaked vessel and flares slightly as it pierces the cloaking shell. Once clear it opens up and begins to transmit a tightly beamed message back towards their fleet.
“Let’s get out of here.” The small stealth vessel immediately moves to the jump point and with a brief flash, disappears off into the void in pursuit of the UED fleet.
***
Time passes until the intended recipients of the Stalker’s message, a small force of numerous support ships and two Battlecruisers have finally arrived at the last known location of their recon team.
“We’ve got the transmission from the Stalker,” states Bill Janick, the XO of the Hyperion, “their projected course is plotted and laid in… we’re ready to leave.”
“Let’s go Bill, can’t keep them waiting can we?” Jim Raynor asks with a sly grin.
“Yeah… this should be interesting Jim. Always wanted to know what happened to them after Char,” replies Janick.
“Well we shall soon find out now won’t we? Hope they aren’t too upset that we didn’t call first.” With a flash of light, Raynor’s fleet barrels recklessly through the lanes of space in pursuit of the UED. Although he is anxious to learn more of this new mystery, a part of his mind wonders quietly if his curiosity is going to get the best of him this time. Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, he pushes the thought out of his mind; he’ll find out soon enough.
Hours seem to pass like days and Raynor can’t seem to dispense the doubts growing in the back of his mind until they finally arrive at the supplied destination, on the fringe of an electrically charged nebula. The rag-tag fleet materializes back into real-space with a brief flash to behold an incredible sight. The flashing strobes of electrical energy that ceaselessly surges through the gaseous nebula serve as a hellish backdrop to the carnage that apparently took place in this sector long ago. Everywhere the crew of the small fleet gaze there is unbelievable destruction. Thousands of pieces of blasted metal and debris litter space as several dozens burned-out husks, undoubtedly blasted cruisers, tumble endlessly everywhere. About a dozen of the cruisers appear to be still intact but appear lifeless as they drift slowly out of control. Throughout the sector, the charred and twisted remains of what most likely are Zerg, litter as far as the eye can see. So severe apparently was the carnage that space seems tinted red and green from the massive amount of fluid spilled and frozen into small chucks of ice.
The bridge of the Hyperion is dead silent except for the humming of machinery as those present take a moment to observe a respectful silence for the thousands of brave souls who undoubtedly died in this forsaken region. Raynor is the first to break the chilling silence.
“It must have been a helluva a fight,” solemnly says Raynor.
“Yeah…” replies Janick quietly as he stares at the shattered remains of a fighter, “sure looks that way. Some of this stuff looks like it’s still salvageable though, especially some of those cruisers.”
“We’ll worry about that later Bill… something feels wrong here…” replies Raynor as he rubs his face with his hands. “Is Tam’s wing ready to go?”
“Yeah… her wing is in the chute. We expecting trouble?”
“Not sure yet but it never hurts to have an ace up your sleeve,” he says as he smiles slightly. “They get the new systems fixed?”
“Yeah, they’re all set. Power requirements are a little high during launches and we get the occasional burnout but they can leave cloaked now.”
“Good, have her wing launch and hold station on our flanks. Make sure she does it quietly too Bill.”
“Got it.” On command several dozen fighters are ejected into the void from the hold of a fighter carrier and several ragged transports. With their cloaks active and masked by the modified shipboard systems, the fighters are able to remain undetectable to all but the most powerful distant sensors.
“Commander Zanchowski is reporting in Cap’n,” announces the comm officer.
“Patch it to my station Tommie.”
An image of a somber faced man appears before him. “Quite a sight eh Jimmy?”
“Yeah… they sure took a beating here ski. What happened to the boys we were following?”
“They took off on a new heading. We’ve got it plotted in but it doesn’t seem to show up as leading to anywhere in particular.”
“You pickin’ up any active energy signatures in the area?”
“Nope… this whole region is a tomb Jim. This place creeps me out.” Zanchowski shudders.
***
“Yeah… I know what you mean. Lead off ski… but stay sharp… something fells wrong,” comes the distant and scrambled response through the comm. system on board the UED flagship Aleksander as she drifts slowly in space. It has been long since the UED were visited by an uninvited fleet.
On the darkened and quiet bridge, Captain Torral sits tense in his command chair as he attempts to gauge the intentions of his unexpected guests.
“All ships are reporting armed and ready Captain,” quietly whispers Lieutenant Commander Hamilton.
“Sensors are just reading the cruisers and the support ships so far?” asks Torral as he continues to watch the advance of the enemy ships.
“Yes sir… no accompanying fighters have been detected yet. Just the two cruisers and the other ships.”
“That could change commander,” replies Torral as he strokes his chin. With a brief flurry of movement on his console, the image shifts then magnifies on the lead cruiser. “Odd,” he states intently, “rather well equipped for pirates wouldn’t you agree?”
“That was my thought too sir. I don’t recall any pirate groups from the intel reports mentioning any in possession of battle cruisers. Plus they are too ragged and small to be a Dominion force so that rules that out.”
“Perhaps we should find out who they are and more importantly… what they want Erik,” he asks as he raises an eyebrow.
“I suppose we could always use the cruisers sir,“ he adds with a smile.
“Notify the fleet there’s been a change of orders, I want those vessels captured… not destroyed if we can help it. If it looks like they want to make a fight of it… inform the captains that they are to end it quickly.”
“Understood sir. Do you want Commander O’Donnel’s group in on it as well?”
“Negative… let’s keep them in reserve for now in case they do launch fighters. I think our cruisers should be able to hold them just fine though.”
“Aye aye Captain.”
“Time to get some answers Erik,” says Torral with a wolfish smile as systems on the UED cruisers are quickly brought from standby to active. Battle lights activate and immediately cast their red glow everywhere as deck plates vibrate from the monstrous engines that drive the cruisers forward.
***
This sudden activity does not go unnoticed on Raynor’s fleet.
“HOLY SHIT!” screams the tactical officer on the Stalker. “I’ve got over a dozen energy spikes coming from within the field!”
Commander Zanchowski looks towards the tactical display and his heart stops with fear. He watches with horror as seventeen derelict cruisers stop tumbling and with a massive flare of drive plumes, rapidly accelerate towards their small fleet.
“Sweet mother of god…” he whispers softly. Stabbing a finger on his comm, he desperately tries to inform the others of the approaching threats. “We’ve got problems coming Jim! BIG problems!”
“We see it here ski,” replies Raynor flatly, “looks like they were waiting huh?”
“Sure looks that way Jim,” replies Zanchowski, “this could get ugly in a hurry!”
Raynor looks out into the littered field and see the bows of the advancing cruisers begin to glisten as their monstrous cannons charge.
“Man I hate it when I’m right Bill,” dryly states Raynor as he shakes his head with annoyance.
“So do I Jim.”
“I hope they’re in a listening mood,” he offers sheepishly as he looks out the viewscreen and witnesses a chilling image.
A blinding flash of energy suddenly obscures the leading cruiser as an enormous nuclear blast erupts forth into space. The massive beam quickly closes the distance with the Hyperion and Raynor barely has enough time to utter a curse.
