After what feels like a trip that seems to have taken eons through never-ending darkness, he somehow summons enough energy within him to finally open his eyes. His mind, still reeling from the lack of sensory input desperately tries to overcome the disorientation that coats him like a hazy shroud. He manages to focus sufficiently enough that he hears in the background a soft humming of machinery around him. He tries to stare out through the strange structure that encases him but sees only blurry, darkened images moving beyond his reach and wonders how he arrived at his present state. Though his memory appears to have temporarily failed him, he at least knows that being helpless has never appealed to him. He struggles to move but somehow is held in place by some force he cannot see. Suppressing his growing frustration at his helplessness, he instead opts to spend his energies in piecing together the events that lead to the situation he finds himself in now. Closing his eyes in preparation, his forehead creases slightly as he tries to concentrate back to the last image he saw. Instead of a single revealing answer, he is rewarded with a flurry of information. Dozens of images race through his mind and flash by at blinding speeds. The scenes change so rapidly that he can only pick out a few details.
Through the haze of confusion in his mind he sees an instrument panel in front of him…
A sudden flash of bright light followed by a blaring of alarms…
He begins to recall the distant wave of panic filling him as fires rage along the surface of his craft…
The ground rushing past his view as a green-brown blur…
A panel erupting into flames in front of him as a small, twisted section of metal flies and strikes his head…
The ground growing larger as he continues to plummet…
His craft impacts violently and twists into a nightmare around him while fires consume his form…
Unbelievable pain surging through him…
His craft shattering into pieces from an explosion in the rear and the world briefly whirling in his view to soon be replaced by a growing darkness quickly followed by nothingness.
The flurry of images assaults his weakened mind and it is with great effort that he struggles to piece them together properly. His mind clears sufficiently enough that he soon begins to feel a dull ache wracking his form. Slowly he attempts to assert his control over his limbs and with detachment realizes that his lower half refuses to respond to his commands.
“He is on the verge of regaining complete consciousness,” quietly states a technician, “the charge effects must be dissipating.”
“Increase the energy levels,” softly commands Ju’lari, the lead healer.
Within his chamber, he sees a brief flash of light flow down to envelope him and the effects are immediate. He feels a tingling sensation begin to flow throughout his body as he struggles to fight the growing darkness seeping into his mind. With great reluctance, he stops his struggles and quickly feels his senses dulling, darkness taking hold of him yet again.
“Neural field has been reestablished,” replies a technician as she glances over at a lighted display.
“Confirm that his Psionic activity has decreased.”
“Confirmed,” announces another technician, “The neural discharge has taken effect.”
“Then let us continue with the procedure. We have a great deal of work to accomplish.”
The Protoss healers, garbed in their white robes, prepare themselves for the intense work required to revive the battered form of the warrior contained within the steel-blue chamber. With a touch of a small switch, several emitters slowly move into their pre-programmed positions over their subject. Soon a soft humming fills the chamber quickly followed by a small flash of light as energy cascades down on the subject. The intense beams of energy quickly crisscross over the upper portion of their subject to form a glowing net of energy. Another switch is activated and the beams flare brilliantly as the next phase is initiated. The narrow beams quickly combine into sheets of raw energy to create a faint crystalline structure that becomes translucent to the touch. With a sharp release of expanding energy, the marked sections of their subject are displaced temporarily from the realms of time and space.
“Status,” inquires Ju’lari softly.
“Internal and external probes confirm that the partial stasis field is functioning as programmed,” replies a monitoring technician.
“Energy levels are stable and the field is holding,” adds another.
“Then let us commence our work, I believe we have many anxious to speak with our warrior again,” states Julari.
Over the span of several hours, the healers continue their intense work on their subject. Dozens of mechanical arms continue to trace their path along the lower half of the warrior as the exoskeleton is slowly constructed. Small sparks issue forth from the tiny energy beams as the sections are linked together. Thousands of conductors are imbedded into his scaly form and immediately connect to his once dead central system. Staring intently into the chamber, Ju’lari takes a brief moment to marvel at the ingenuity and craftsmanship of the Khalai. The exoskeleton that they created is a far more refined version of the battle suits worn by members of the Templar caste. A better alternative she thinks than encasement within the cold, robotic shell of a dragoon.
“The procedure is almost completed Ju’lari, your presence here is no longer required. Perhaps you should seek rest,” offers an aide.
“I thank you for your concern D’tral,” answers a weary Ju’lari, “but there are still more of our fallen that require my assistance.”
“Yet if you continue in your present state you may do more harm than good… I implore you to consider.”
“I see wisdom in your words,” she concedes reluctantly, “I shall seek rest.” She moves to leave the room and then suddenly realizes just how exhausted she really is. The twin doors before her softly hiss apart and she pauses for a moment to look back at those present. “You will of course notify me immediately of his status when the process completes?”
“Of course,” replies D’tral sincerely though he knows he will not do so until Ju’lari has had time to recover from her exhaustion.
With one parting glance, Ju’lari moves to her distant chamber for some much-needed rest.
***
Meanwhile back on the planet Shakuras, another operation is taking place with the end result to be the spreading of chaos and destruction. The chilled air is oddly still as if it were some kind of living being holding its breath, patiently waiting for the chaos that is soon to erupt. From the shadows that line the worn paths of this city, several darkened, cloaked figures move purposefully forward towards their goal. The small group moves swiftly to the ancient structure until several zealots at the entrance challenge their arrival.
“En taro Adun fellow brethren,” states one of the sentries enthusiastically.
“En taro Tassadar young warriors,” softly replies the apparent leader of the small group. “We seek passage into your honored halls of knowledge.”
“We of the Templar must respectfully delay your request for now,” answers a young templar emerging through the crystalline doorway. “The halls are currently in use by several of our dark brethren,” says the young warrior as he nods respectfully. “It will be some time before they complete their work.”
“We have much we need to accomplish and would rather prefer to commence our work now,” states the leader of the group with a slight edge of irritation to his tone.
“It would be a matter of great disrespect to our dark brethren if we were to interrupt their proceedings anymore than if we interrupted you and your companions,” answers the templar cautiously. “Perhaps you would prefer to wait inside until they finish?”
“No… we shall return once they have finished and left this structure,” responds the leader with contempt.
“As you wish,” answers the templar with a small nod.
With a small gesture from their leader, the twelve figures make ready to leave as they fall in behind him. The templar detail turns to resume their duty positions. It is at that moment that the arrivals act. With a brief sidelong glance from their leader, the group explodes into a fury of activity. Their flowing cloaks are quickly thrown aside to reveal them encased within hardened battle suits. Energy blades and shields flash to existence as they rush the guards. Two zealots are slain even before they are able to turn to face their attackers. The smell of burning flesh and their piercing cries are the only warning their companions receive before they in turn are leaped upon.
Despite the speed of his assault, he is surprised at how quickly the templars recover from their initial shock and engage his forces. The sound of crackling energy fills the air as the two forces engage each other under the dim lighting. What follows is a violent melee battle punctuated by the cries of the dying. Shields on both sides ripple under the abuse of combat. One zealot manages to cripple one of his attackers, both their shields having long failed them, and quickly moves to deliver the final deathblow. Before he can swing his blade down, a glowing blade pierces the center of his torso from behind. The zealot falls to the ground in steps as he tries desperately to stop the flow of life from his severe wound. A psionic blast lances out from the young high templar to strike one of the attackers. The attacker is blasted severely and falls to the ground as energy crackles through his form. Before he can ready another blast, the young templar is struck in his torso by several energy bolts, shudders from the impacts and falls to the ground quickly. Even though the members of the templar caste have trained for battle constantly all their life, raw fighting ability and bravery only cannot overcome overwhelming odds; the guard detail is quickly dispatched in mere seconds.
The attacking Protoss quickly checks their numbers and confirms the state of the guard detachment. Of the six guards originally, only two display any lingering signs of life, their bodies mercifully unconscious from their injuries.
“What of these two?” cruelly hisses one of the attackers as he readies another energy bolt into his forearm-mounted launcher and aims it at the wounded templars.
“We require only one to tell others of who did this if they survive,” quietly whispers the leader, “choose the most grievously injured of the two and kill him.”
“As you wish,” viciously responds the warrior who quickly aims his bolt weapon at a downed zealot and fire several times causing the battered form to gyrate from the strikes.
“Our losses?” softly asks the leader as he continues to scan the dark surroundings for activity.
“None… but two of our number have been injured severely. Shall we remove them from the fray now?”
“Yes… but we can use this opportunity to sow even more distrust and confusion. Displace their energies and slash the physical forms. Make it appear that they perished from their battle wounds.”
“As you so order,” responds an attacker as he and two others move towards their wounded comrades. Taking out several bizarre, rod shaped items hidden within the battle suits, they arrange them around one of the wounded to form a small structure. The small rods quickly merge together and hum softly as energies build within them. Suddenly a soft yellow glow is emitted and infuses the downed attacker. The battered body shakes wildly and then subsides as the life energies are drawn into a central pod situated at the top of the organic structure. They perform the same process over the next of their comrades and then secure the glowing pods for transport. The third attacker ignites a blade and creates a series of vicious slashes on the now empty husks. Once that is accomplished, they quickly form-up with their leader and follow him into the interior of the building. Moments pass until the intruders quickly file out the main entrance and hurry off down the darkened passages, their senses alert for any signs of a possible ambush.
Those within the templar hall of learning die without knowing why or even how as the building literally disappears in a violent explosion that rips apart the ancient structure as if it were as brittle as clay. Fracture lines form on the exterior as the material hopelessly tries to contain the incredible energy within until all that can be seen is immediately consumed in a blinding flash of light. A massive energy wave winds along the darkened pathways like some strange beast and causes the once still winds to howl furiously like a wounded animal. In the aftermath, all that remains of the structure and those within are merely burning embers and shattered debris. Off in the distance, a lone figure has arrived too late to stop the chaos. The figure merely stands back watching the small burning fires and feels a great swelling of sorrow at what this tragic event will cost them. Pausing for a moment for one last look, the figure sadly turns away and hurries off into the darkness as numerous Protoss rush towards the scene. The events of the night as expected, do not go without serious repercussions.
“Our situation here grows worse with each act of violence,” comments Al’shak sadly as he continues to pace within his chamber. “I am unsure as to whether we can even come back from the brink that we totter on now.”
“I confess that I must reluctantly agree as well,” says Gratix solemnly. “This recent act of violence only serves to widen the growing rift among our peoples.”
“Agreed… and along with the disturbing information from Chan’dras,” states Al’shak as he gestures towards his guest, “I fear we have much suffering ahead of us.”
“Who was behind the attack this time,” inquires Chan’dras softly.
“Nothing solid as always,” answers Gratix with frustration, “instead of answers we merely get more questions. From what I have seen, it appears to have been the work of several members of the Judicator caste. We found two with their caste markings and numerous evidence of their weapons but little else. In my opinion the evidence was left far too easily for us to find. It is almost as if whoever did this wants the blame solely on the Judicators.”
“That is assuming it was not the work of some Judicators to begin with,” interjects Al’shak. “We have seen countless reports of vengeful acts since word spread of Kreza’s attack. These acts are no longer confined to the central province; it appears to be spreading everywhere. How can we even be sure who is behind all of this?”
“That is the crux of our problem. How can we find those responsible when our most obvious enemy is the anger, fear and distrust among our own people? With each act of violence it becomes increasing harder to locate those originally responsible.”
“And the deaths from last nights attack?” asks Chan’dras barely above a whisper.
“Twenty of my brethren were holding a lesson within the halls of learning when it was destroyed,” grimly states the Dark Templar, Al’shak.
“Not too mention the six members of my caste placed on guard detail to help ensure that such acts of violence would not occur. One managed to barely survive the assault, a young high templar named Prazor, but his condition grows unfavorable. It will be some time before he recovers… if he recovers at all,” adds Gratix of the Templar caste sadly.
“Already I am beseeched by requests from several of the clan leaders to endorse their reprisals against the Judicators,” states Al’shak as he ends his pacing to settle down before his guests.
“This madness must end… and soon,” snaps Gratix angrily. “We can ill afford to fight amongst ourselves while the Zerg advance on our homeworld. We must stand united against them or all that we hold dear will be lost for all eternity.”
“And what of the threat of the Ma’lylish Aki Eruzel’nas,” asks Chan’dras softly.
“I am… unsure,” hesitantly replies Gratix, “what little I have seen indicates that they are an extremely grave threat but it is still not enough for us to act upon. If you bring what you have before the conclave now, they may completely dismiss it as ancient lore considering the threats we face currently. It is far easier to see a threat in front of you than one that hides in the shadows.”
“But sometimes the threats in the shadows are far more dangerous than the ones before you,” retorts Chan’dras. “These Deliverers… these Harbingers of Darkness… may be the reason for the miseries are people face now on Shakuras. Does it not seem odd to you that after we have achieved our first step towards defeating the Zerg that now we find ourselves divided and on the verge of strife? That mere moments after Kreza and I uncovered this information we were attacked almost immediately… all the evidence we uncovered about them destroyed or damaged? I may not be skilled in the manners of war but I know enough to see when an enemy is trying to sow confusion… to cripple our efforts.”
Gratix and Al’shak can only sit in silence as Chan’dras’ words hang heavy in the room. Several seconds pass before Al’shak breaks the tension.
“What we require most is more information, Chan’dras, that sadly we no longer have access to.”
“Then perhaps we should seek that information out. Zeratul has already stated that there exists a Xel’Naga installation that may hold the answers we seek. I suggest we go locate it.”
“Zeratul stated that the location was far out on the fringe of our territory. He would have to serve as your guide,” says Gratix. “If he were to depart Aiur on this quest you speak of, it would leave our forces without yet another leader. With the reports of the Zerg approaching… is that such a wise decision?”
“I cannot accomplish this quest without his assistance. He and he alone knows the location we seek. I have spoken with him and he has agreed to lead this expedition… only if Al’shak would honor him by leading our forces on Aiur in his place,” finishes Chan’dras as she glances over towards him.
“It has been too long since I have seen battle… however, I welcome the opportunity,” says Al’shak as his eyes flash briefly. “Rest assured the Zerg will get a good fight.”
“Why do I feel as if you two have had this planned since before we met?” asks Gratix with a touch of humor.
“Because you are right,” answers Chan’dras with a friendly tone, “and because we both have agreed that the Ma’lylish Aki Eruzel’nas are a threat that can no longer be ignored. We must go and find the answers we seek.”
Conceding defeat in the discussion Gratix continues on. “If you are to go then you must go now. The conclave is under pressure now to secure the gateways to Aiur. So far this strife has been limited to Shakuras but there is no telling how long it will stay that way. I believe they intent to seal the gateways soon.”
“Then we must move,” says Al’shak as his rises smoothly. “A contingent of troops and supplies is set to depart shortly for Aiur, it is best that we go with them.”
“If you go you will not go alone Chan’dras. Though my responsibilities require me to remain on Shakuras to resolve this growing strife, I can at least send an honor guard with you. If what you say is indeed true, and these enemies are among us now, they will do whatever is necessary to see that you fail.”
“Though I appreciate the offer I cannot—“
Before she can object, Gratix cuts her off with a raising of his palm. “There will be no objections scholar. These are my conditions for allowing you to proceed with this quest and I intend to see that they are followed. I fear you may need them.”
Sighing with defeat, Chan’dras nods slowly in agreement with his conditions.
“Do not worry scholar, I will ensure that those sent with you are pure of soul and completely trustworthy. This matter is too sensitive for anything less than that. My young protegee, Mertak, will lead your honor guard and I will assign the rest of the detail myself.”
“Thank you,” says Chan’dras respectfully.
“We must go… time is merely one of the many enemies that conspire against us,” states Al’shak as he moves towards the exit. “Let us hope for all our sakes that we have not acted too late.” With those final words, the three friends quickly leave the chamber to embark on a quest that they hope will shed light on the darkness seeking to envelop them all.
***
Elsewhere in the universe a small robotic observer continues its lonely trek among the stars. Various sensors carried within the small unit continue to scan and transmit the acquired data back towards its home base. A brief glimmer of an anomaly is registered on one particular sweep, which draws the interest of the small robotic brain. The sensor artifact continues to grow and the small robot belatedly realizes what the source is. Quickly the small artificial brain sizes up the situation and transmits a brief warning before it is hammered repeatedly and disappears in a flash of light. Flowing past the now expanding wreckage, a blur of movement rushes by as it continues on towards the distant blue-green jewel that hovers beyond.
Staring out through the eyes of her minions, Kerrigan feels a stirring of excitement grow within her as she beholds the planet Aiur ahead. She clenches her hands into a fist so tight that her talons draw blood from her once smooth hands. This day will be forever heralded as the end of the Protoss. Once their destruction has been assured, her ascension to ownership of the universe will be complete. Smiling viciously at the thoughts of coming battle, she closes her eyes and releases her mental grip slightly on her hordes allowing them to surge forward; consumed in the growing lust for blood. Through their many eyes, she sees her destiny grow before her as she mentally urges them forward.
***
Down on the planet, a member of the Khalai quickly rushes to deliver some disturbing news.
“Executor,” states the worker as he bows respectfully before the two waiting figures, “several sensor posts coreward of Aiur have failed to respond to our requests. We have also detected a large mass that defies classification closing rapidly.”
“And so it begins yet again,” softly says the Executor Nagol as he stares up at the distant, burning lights.
“Send out the alert then,” commands Zeratul. “We must be ready to greet them properly when they arrive,” he adds with a brief flashing of his eyes. The technician leaves them quickly to perform his duties.
“Do you still intend to leave on this quest of yours?” asks Nagol as he continues to stare up at the stars.
“Yes… as soon as the scholar arrives I intend to assist her. I am… sorry. I know the timing is very poor but this threat she speaks of is very real and will affect not just us but the entire universe…” says Zeratul as his words trail off. “Al’shak has agreed to command in my absence. However until they arrive, you shall have my blade for as long as you will have me.”
“Thank you my friend,” says Nagol as he nods slightly. “I fear we will need it from you very soon.”
“We shall prevail Nagol,” offers Zeratul. “We Protoss were destined for a far greater purpose for the good of the entire universe. We cannot… we WILL NOT fail in that grand task.”
“Agreed,” replies Nagol as he ceases his stargazing and turns to his loyal friend. “Come… we must ready our forces for battle. The Zerg will be upon us all soon.”
With those final words, both warriors turn and quickly move off to prepare for the fight of their lives. A fight that should they fail, will more than likely mean the end of their entire species as a whole. Throughout the entire planet, the alert is passed and these sons and daughters of Aiur make ready for war on a cosmic scale. Unknown however to the Protoss warriors, there are others in a far off sector of the universe that continue to monitor their progress. Watching and silently wishing them well in their efforts. Their hopes and fears will be answered soon… very soon indeed.
