The galaxy has known much violence since its initial formation so long ago. Cataclysmic collisions between celestial bodies and the birth of stars and their eventual deaths have been an integral part of the cycle that is the universe. Destruction and violence have, and will always be, the companions to those who travel these darkened and empty seas. Deep within a far off recess of space, a small personal duel is taking place between two warriors. All alone in the void with only the stars that make up the galaxy to serve as their silent audience, the two warriors continue their struggle for supremacy.
A flurry of energy beams stab out from the darkness behind him as he desperately twists his fighter right and dives to evade. His engines scream in protest and the frame of his wraith groans from the incredible stresses as he corkscrews downward sliding out of the line of fire. Despite his efforts, his antagonist stubbornly refuses to allow him to escape. Another series of red lances issue forth from his pursuer and manages to punch a half-dozen holes into his frame; scoring minor damage. He immediately pulls back and left on the control stick reversing his spiral as the enemy fighter drops behind him, his wraith quickly stands on its tail as it claws upwards into the heavens. His eyes narrow and he sucks in the metallic tasting air from his mask as he feels the pressure forcing him back into his chair, his inertial dampers struggling to compensate. The enemy fighter, caught trying to match his previous downward spiral, misses the course reversal and blazes past overshooting him; the guns continuing to spat out their fire.
He immediately whips the control stick over to the right, applying pressure to his rudder, as he rockets around and smoothly drops onto the tail of his prey. Roles are quickly reversed as the hunter now became the hunted. Smiling tightly inside his mask, Razor yanks on the trigger as a burst of lasers ripple out from his fighter's gun and fill space ahead of him. The enemy fighter rocks left and then rolls right barely evading the deadly lances left in its wake. Engines flare brightly on the opposing fighter as the pilot quickly accelerates to increase the distance with its attacker. Razor quickly follows suit and stays right with his target as he fires a few bursts. One burst manages to catch the enemy wraith on the left wing; a brief flash is seen as the metal flares from the impact causing only minor damage. The enemy pilot quickly banks the fighter out of the line of fire and blazes off on a new heading.
Razor stay right with his target and he soon hears a low-pitched growl as the seeker heads on his missiles are on the verge of locking on. The enemy fighter, undoubtedly aware of the impending lock, rapidly twists to the left and dives to shake his acquisition and then for no good reason, oddly straightens out. The strange decision from the enemy pilot draws a slight frown from Razor as he smoothly drops onto the tail of the fleeing fighter. The seeker tone quickly changes to a high-pitched squeal as his missiles have successfully gained a hard lock onto his target.
"Say good night," hisses Razor as he flips up the safety cover on the stick and jabs down on the launch button.
He feels the dull thuds as the explosive charges on his fighter's wings eject the missiles off the hardpoints. The two missiles drop a meter before the motors ignite and the two weapons streak in on their target. Judging the distance, he figures the missiles will hit within ten seconds and then this contest will finally be ended. Up ahead, he sees the glow fade out on the enemy wraith as the pilot kills the engines. The fighter immediately tumbles over, while still continuing to move forward on inertia, and with a brilliant flash begins to rapidly accelerate headlong at him as lasers begin to fill his view.
"OH SHIT," screams Razor more out of surprise than fear at the suicidal actions of the pilot.
Razor's eyes quickly go wide as he begins to feel the energy beams hammering his fighter, his own missiles on the verge of hitting his target. He quickly banks away in the hope to escape unscathed as dozens of red lights begin to flash on his boards from the damage sustained. His missiles finally impact and the attacking fighter is vaporized but the damage has already been done. Warning alarms hoot in his ear and with a fleeting look at his damage indicators, he grudgingly concedes that he has no choice left. He quickly seals his helmet and suit in preparation. Reaching up and behind him, he grabs the twin ejection handles and yanks on them hard. With a sharp crack of exploding bolts, his cockpit quickly blasts free of his crippled bird and rockets away. Within seconds, his wraith explodes and everything goes dark.
***
"Exactly just how long have they been at this?" asks Raynor as he moves among the gathered crowd to get a better view of the battle imaging.
"Unfortunately this was the idea of one of my squadron commanders. Looks like they were trying to work some egos and establish the pecking order around here. You have my apologies, Jim," replies Torral with a brief smile. "I believe I will have to have a little chat with Commander O'Donnel.”
"No need to be too hard on the boy, Jeffrey," offers Raynor diplomatically. "I'm sure my wing commander will have some explaining to do as well."
"Indeed," replies Torral with a small chuckle. "I suppose they will start a pissing contest next."
"Well in that regards," says Raynor with a grin, "your boy will win.”
Before Torral could ask him about the hidden meaning, Raynor turns his attention to his XO.
"So who won, Bill," asks Raynor as he reaches the main screen.
"No one, Cap'n," replies Bill Janick. "This is like the second bout so far and they still keep either tying up the score or pulling a draw.
"It appears that this little battle has come to its conclusion," states Torral as he gestures towards the now opening simulation pods.
"Son of a bitch-"
"And it would appear that our side lost," says Torral shaking his head slowly as he continues to listen to the ranting of Commander O'Donnel.
"Not a good day for Earth, commander?"
"Sorry, captain," replies Razor as he takes off his helmet and places it in his arm. "I had that one in the bag but I didn't expect a kamikaze move out of desperation. It was a stupid careless mistake on my part. I got to relaxed; it won't happen again, sir."
"There is always a next time, commander."
"Yes, sir," says Razor as he glances back at the other pod and its exiting occupant. The other pilot purposefully walks forward towards them as some onlookers voice their congratulations on a job well done.
"This is my wing commander," states Raynor as he gestures towards the approaching figure.
The other pilot removes the helmet and Torral is surprised to see tightly bound long hair.
"Commander Tamara 'Tam' Lindsey," introduces Raynor as Torral smiles briefly after finally understanding the earlier joke.
"Well done pilot," says Torral as he offers his hand in congratulations.
"Thank you, sir," briskly replies the young woman before him. She takes his offered hand and gives a surprisingly strong handshake.
"So, you finished yet," asks Raynor with a brief smile.
"Not quite, Cap'n," replies Tamara as she tugs impatiently at a reddish-brown lock that strayed into her eyes.
"We still have one more to go before we can settle this and prove who is the better pilot," she adds as she glances briefly towards Razor and flashes a mocking smile. Razor bristles slightly at the challenge and is about to say something but is cut short by a glance from Torral to let it slide for now.
"Maybe another time, Tam," states Raynor as he picks up on the look from Torral. "We've still got some more work to do."
"Alright people. That's it, show's over," declares Raynor, as he starts moving out of the room.
"Back to work people," puts in Torral as he follows Raynor's lead and joins him in breaking up the crowd.
"I don't think those two are going to end this rivalry anytime soon," says Torral as he glances back at the two pilots as they continue to exchange verbal jabs.
"Probably not," says Raynor as he steps through the hatchway gesturing their aides to follow. "Tamara isn't one to go down without a fight. Being a woman just makes it even more gratifying to her when she gets to rub it in."
"You certainly have interesting people with you, Jim," says Torral with a slight smile as he keys a door open.
"I take 'em anyway I find them as long as they know their loyalties and can fight, Jeffrey. Those two should get along just fine though," adds Raynor as he glances back in the direction of the simulation room.
"I'm not sure though if we can handle that much ego from two people though," comments Torral dryly.
"We'll manage somehow," replies Raynor with a soft chuckle. "But right now we've got other matters we need to attend to," he adds as his tone becomes serious.
"Agreed."
Turning briefly to his side, Torral begins to issue orders to a subordinate officer serving as his aide.
"Pass the word along that I need all commanders to assemble for a briefing."
"Yes, sir," replies the junior officer as he snaps off a crisp salute and pivots on his heels to leave.
"Same for us, Bill. Get the boys together for a staff meeting. We've got a lot to discuss."
"Got it, Jim," replies Bill Janick as he quickly moves off to pass the word on.
"Is the situation that bad," quietly asks Torral as they both step into a vertical lift.
"Yeah, it looks that way," softly replies Raynor. "They wouldn't be breaking a whole slew of contact rules if the news wasn't hot. We'll just have to find out just how bad it is when my people link up with us," adds Raynor as the doors to the lift close with a soft hiss.
***
Location: Los Alamos, Dylar IV Alpha Squadron Primary base
His footfalls softly echo in the brightly lit corridor as he continues the silent trek to his destination. Glancing down at the number written on the back of his hand, he looks up and realizes that he still has a few more rooms to go and he resumes his slow pace. Several medical personnel wave him to the side of the corridor as they wheel another of their wounded to a treatment chamber. Everywhere he looks, he sees the aftermath of their recent battles with the Zerg. Dozens of mangled and bloody forms lie on the many beds that fill the rooms and the view causes him to turn away and quicken his pace. The soft groans and murmuring of the wounded echo throughout the medical wing with only the occasional call on the installation comm to serve as a break to the monotony. Looking up ahead, he sees the room number that he has been looking for and subconsciously, checks his appearance and straightens his gear before entering.
Only a few of the beds in the room are occupied, the rest either empty or with red stains marking those that are long gone. It takes him a few moments to locate his goal but overall, MSgt. Hal Frost considers himself a fortunate man. Moving up to the side of the bed, he takes the offered hand with a tight grin.
"Hi yourself, Manny," replies Frost as he gives his hand a firm shake. "How're you feeling?"
"I feel like shit, mano," rasps Manny as he smiles weakly.
"Consider yourself very lucky. It's not often a guy gets impaled several times and lives to tell the tale."
"Thanks for pulling me out of there, Hal. I owe you buddy," he adds as he closes his eyes briefly.
"Forget it. Just remember to duck next time ok," offers Hal with a chuckle.
Manny manages to chuckle briefly before he erupts into a brief bout of coughing.
"-Damn that hurts."
"You might want to try and take it easy, Manny," firmly orders a new voice behind Hal. You still have got a long way to go before you're back up to full strength."
"Sorry about that, sir," apologizes Frost as he quickly stands at attention.
"At ease sergeant and there is no need to call me sir," replies Lieutenant Elizabeth Askins. "You can leave the titles outside the med center. In here we're pretty casual about regs."
"Yes ma'am," says Frost with a slight smile.
"So how's he doing, doc?" asks Frost as he moves aside to allow the doctor and her team to go to work.
"Your friend he is recovering nicely. However," pointedly adds Askins, "he would recover faster if he would just lie still and give his body the chance to heal."
"Doctors always have a tendency to overprotect their patients," grumbles Manny as he waves his right hand in a dismissive wave; wincing briefly from the effort.
"And captains always feel that they have to do everything all the time even when common sense says otherwise," she retorts back with a slight smile to lessen the harshness in her tone.
"Umm, should I leave you two alone to work this out privately," asks Frost with a barely suppressed grin.
"There's no need to work it out, sergeant," states Askins as she moves to make a notation on the data logs. "I believe his injuries settled the discussion for him."
"Touché," says Frost as he grimaces slightly from the verbal jab. "Looks like round one goes to her, Manny," declares Frost with a broad grin.
"What're you grinning at, Hal," demands Manny with weak bravado. "If I wasn't lying sick in this bed I'd kick your teeth in."
"Don't make me eject you from this med center for upsetting my patients, sergeant."
"Hah," snaps Manny in celebration, "that'll teach you to pick on an injured guy."
"And you should try to get some rest instead of picking fights with your friends," adds Askins as she turns to address Manny.
"Yes, mom," grumbles Manny as the other medical personnel check his injuries; chuckling the whole time.
"Umm, could I speak with you for a moment in private, ma'am," asks Frost quietly.
"Of course. I'll be right back, Carl." She gets nods of acknowledgement from her team as she walks with Frost out into the corridor.
"I didn't want to ask this in front of him," quietly says Frost as he spares a quick glance back into the room.
"Go on then," says Askins as she gestures for him to continue.
"On the level now. How's he really doing?"
"You're friend is incredibly lucky to be alive. If you had gotten him to us even a minute late, he would have been dead. We barely managed to get him at least marginally stabilized when we got to him but it was enough. It was that close, sergeant. It was touch and go for a few days after the procedure but he will recover after a few more treatments."
"Thank you," replies Frost quietly. "Thank you for everything," he adds with relief.
"You're welcome. You and him are pretty close huh?"
"We've been through a lot together, ma'am. In a way, he's become part of my family. Sort of like an adopted son."
"I'm sure he knows it," she offers with a warm smile.
"Will you see to it that he's well taken care of?"
"We do that for everyone here anyway, sergeant. But I'll make it a point to check up on him from time to time as a personal favor to you."
"Thanks," simply replies Frost. "I'm sure Manny would appreciate it."
"Besides, in about a week he'll be as good as new. Then you two can poke and jab at each other all you want. As long as it's outside my med wing that is," she adds with a smile.
"You got yourself a deal, ma'am," says Frost as he chuckles briefly. "Can I talk to him before I shove off." Askins nods for him to proceed as they file back into the room.
"You two done talking about me?" asks Manny.
"Yes, we both have reached an agreement," replies Askins.
"And that is?"
"You're really annoying when you're injured, boss," wryly answers Frost.
"Don't make me get up, Hal," warns Manny with a smile of his own.
"Well it's been fun poking fun at you but I've got to shove off now, Manny," states Frost as he comes up alongside the bed and extends his hand.
"Fair 'nuff, Hal," replies Manny as he takes the offered hand firmly. "Where you headed off to?"
"We just got in orders for our company to provide some additional base security for one of our forward bases. Some damn little firebase out on the northern coast called Loring."
"They expecting trouble?"
"Nah, the base is far enough away from the battle lines that an attack there is unlikely. Besides to hit there, the Zerg have to pass through three other zones. It's a babysitting assignment," adds Frost with a smile.
"Guess I'll see you soon then," says Manny with a firm shake.
"See you then, boss. We'll keep the fires burning for you," says Frost with a wave as he leaves the room.
"Later, Hal."
"He'll be ok," says Askins as she watches Frost leave the room. "You just concentrate instead on getting better, that's an order."
"Yes, ma'am," crisply answers Manny.
She sits down on the edge of the bed and gently places her hand on his. The warm sensation of her touch quickly cuts through the dull ache that he feels all over his body and he soon finds himself staring up into her soft, green eyes.
"You know, we met once before awhile back at a firebase called Julia. My team didn't get the chance to thank you and the others afterwards for what you did there. Anyway, thank you," she whispers softly.
"You're welcome, ma'am," softly replies Manny with a warm smile and receives a smile back from her in return.
"You need to get your rest," she says as she rises smoothly, her warm touch still lingering on his hand. "And you can call me Elizabeth instead of ma'am ok," she adds with that same warm smile as she turns to leave the room. "I never liked hearing that, sounds just as bad as sir."
"Alright then, Lizzy. I'll try to be a good little patient from now on." With that final exchange, she quietly leaves the room and Manny closes his eyes as the image of her plays briefly through his mind. Within twenty minutes, he was fast asleep.
***
Location: Province of Alsace, Aiur
Dozens of small fires continue to burn on the surrounding structures, casting a sickeningly pale glow into the early dawn light. Thick clouds of smoke roll throughout the blasted streets of this ruined city only to increase the ill mood within this battered and broken province. Off in the distance, the sounds of battle quickly begin to fade as the last remnants of the enemy are either routed or destroyed. Everywhere the corpses of the dead and those about to die litter the streets and the stench of death permeates the very air they breathe in their last moments of life. Dozens of robotic weapons of war lie shattered and spread along over the grounds creating a grisly landscape of destruction that barely manages to describe the chaos that occurred here only a short time before.
Off on a side passageway, a herd of zerglings is seen thundering past the ruined structures of the Protoss as they continue, under the guidance of their queen, their search for any lingering survivors of the battle that remain in hiding. Overhead, a sharp shriek is heard as several Mutalisks blaze by in pursuit of a damaged Protoss fighter whose large engines seemingly rattle the already fragile buildings. The fighter, a thick trail of red flames and clouds trailing behind it, struggles to evade its pursuers with little chance for success. A few blasts from the trailing Mutalisks and the fighter erupts into a shower of flaming and sparking debris, raining down on the streets below. The forces of the Zerg continue to scour the province for any signs of resistance as they seek to solidify their hold of the claimed ground. Already in the distance, the large organic structures of the Zerg can be seen rising up towards the sky to tower over the shattered Protoss province.
Walking slowly among the remains of a blasted building, Kerrigan stops for a moment and closes her eyes and listens in to the sounds of victory. The cries and sharp shrieks of her broods fills her senses and she smiles wickedly at what she has claimed this day. Opening her eyes, she continues her trek through the destroyed building as her two escorting hydralisks softly follow behind her. The ground crunches under her footsteps as thousands of pieces of crystal are grounded beneath her feet into fine powder.
Suddenly, her mind senses several unfamiliar presences nearby and she immediately tenses in preparation of combat. Several shrill war cries erupt around her as half a dozen Protoss warriors spring from their cover and quickly advance on her position. Her two escorts immediately impose themselves between her attackers to protect their queen. A volley of spikes fly forth from the escorts and the shields of the Protoss begin to glow from the impacts. One of the Protoss zealots is knocked to the ground by a volley but quickly rises, his eyes burning with a cold fury, as he leaps upon one of the escorts. The other hydralisk is toppled and begins to claw its attacker as the remaining four warriors charge Kerrigan.
The first zealot quickly closes the gap and recklessly leaps at Kerrigan full force, his blades thrumming loudly as he sails through the air. Kerrigan quickly drops and rolls clear as she extends her talons from her hands and rakes into the torso of the zealot. His shields flare from the abuse and the force of the blow knocks him to the ground to land with a crunch. The zealot quickly rolls up to his feet and begins to circle his prey. His other three companions quickly following suit.
"Come Protoss warriors," viciously hisses Kerrigan as she extends her talons fully from her hands, the sharp bones glistening briefly in the dim lighting as her eyes glow menacingly. "Come and serve my cause with your deaths!"
Behind her she hears her escorts heavily engaged with their opponents and she is saddened that there will be no additional attackers left for her to dispatch personally. She quickly spares a brief glance into the darkness to confirm the state of her escorts. It is at that moment the Protoss choose to attack. The two in front of her feint an assault thus paving the way for their companions to strike from behind. Kerrigan, expecting such a move immediately releases a psionic scream that rips through the minds of her attackers and stuns them momentarily; it will prove to be all the time that she needs. The Protoss warriors scream in agony and quickly halt their attack as they recoil from the effects of the mental assault. Seizing the opportunity, Kerrigan immediately moves on the first zealot and slashes her talons viciously across his chest. His shields collapse under the hammering blows and the exosuit of the zealot sparks from the carving strikes. Kerrigan cocks her arm back and rams her talons deep into his torso as a loud piercing scream issues from the crippled zealot. She feels the weight of her prey hanging heavy on her arm as she stabs with her free hand until finally the glow fades from the eyes of the zealot. One down.
The other warriors recover from the mental lashing and quickly charge in an attempt to save their comrade. Their rescue comes too late as she takes the dead husk and slams it into the advancing warriors. Two dodge aside but the third is struck full force and tumbles to the ground to be pinned briefly by the dead form. Kerrigan rolls in and leaps at the standing two and manages to catch the second one across the legs with her outstretched talons. She immediately follows up with an upward slash with both hands and the shield flashes out of existence.
The zealot backpedals away in an attempt to get clear as his comrade moves to strike. Kerrigan blocks the blow and uses his momentum to shove him away into a pile of debris as she closes on her now vulnerable prey. The fourth zealot, having finally freed himself rushes to attack from behind. Kerrigan slashes out at the weakened zealot in front of her and catches him on his side. The zealot bellows in pain but manages to swing a blade across and into Kerrigan's shoulder. She lets out a shriek of pain from the burning wound and her eyes glow hot with rage. Even despite the wound, she senses the fourth zealot moving to strike from behind. She quickly stabs her talons into the chest of the one before her and shoves him to the ground just as the one from behind swings and misses her by inches, the heat from his blades burning her flesh lightly. Withdrawing her left hand from the chest of her downed prey, she swings a vicious backhand and catches the rearward attacker before he can strike. The zealot is knocked backwards from the harsh blow and loudly falls onto his back. Turning her attention back to the one before her, she knocks his futile attempts to defend himself aside and rams the talons on her left hand right into his face. The body immediately grows tense and twitches violently until it soon slacks off. Two down.
The third zealot having witnessed the violent death of two of his comrades bravely charges the Queen of Blades yet again and draws his blades in a powerful downward slash; the movement so fast that a stream of light forms from the blades passage. Kerrigan dodges to the side but timed it a little too late. One of the blades catches her and rakes a burning streak along her spine. She howls with an insane fury as she rolls and comes up into a vertical slashing motion on the fourth zealot now rising from where she knocked him earlier. The warrior screams in agony as her talons draw a series of long gashes along the entire length of his body. Fluid flows freely from the massive wounds as the zealot staggers backwards to drop to the ground in a crumple. The last standing Protoss leaps at Kerrigan and knocks her to the ground. Blades and talons flash in the mad melee as the two combatants tear into each other with a crazed fury. Soon Kerrigan draws the upper hand as she lands several crippling blows to his chest. The third zealot pulls away and manages several slashes on Kerrigan's arms before she rams both sets of talons through his chest, his body dropping to the shattered ground with a loud thud. Three down.
Wincing visibly from her wounds, Kerrigan moves to the last of her attackers to finish the deed. The zealot weakly tries to deflect her killing strikes but in the end, he too is dispatched with relative ease as she stabs her talons deep into him and tears a line across his torso. Four down. Her breath comes in short rasps as she grimaces with pain from her many bleeding injuries. Small wispy vapor trails, created by her breath warm the chilling dawn air before her as she slowly stands to view her handiwork. Her wounds quickly sealing themselves up as she rises. Her two escorts slowly move into view, their forms bleeding in dozens of locations, but nevertheless they will recover.
"My Queen," asks the distant voice in her head, "are you alright?"
"I am fine, Draago," she answers in reply. "I had almost forgotten the thrill that comes with the kill," comments Kerrigan as she glances at the dead forms around her. "It is a shame these Protoss die so easily. Otherwise I would take more pleasure in their deaths."
"We have completely secured the grounds my queen. The Protoss that were defending this area have either been slain or are in retreat."
"Excellent work, Draago. Have your forces rest for now as we replace our losses. Once we have recovered our strength, we continue onwards to the next stronghold and crush them there as well," states Kerrigan as her eyes flare briefly.
"As you wish my queen."
With one last look at the carnage she created, Kerrigan leisurely walks off with her escorts in tow, towards the distant hive structures to prepare for the next battle.
***
Location: Central Province of the Protoss, Shakuras
Within one of the many structures that dot this gleaming city, a discussion is taking place that promises to hold serious repercussions for the Protoss on this planet.
"We have heard some disturbing news," states the voice from within the crackling portal.
"What is it that you speak of?"
"The first born that you were supposed to have eliminated is on the verge of recovering."
"Yes, I am aware of this disturbing development."
"He cannot be allowed to exist any further, his survival could very well complicate matters greatly. We already know he was able to touch the minds of his attackers. If the contents of his mind are made known, your machinations and efforts there will be seriously compromised. It would displease our masters greatly," emphasizes the voice sternly. "You must eliminate him immediately."
"He is protected by far too many members of his caste. A direct assault on the facility would be out of the question. We must try to silence him in another way."
"Do what you must to succeed but the one known as Kreza must not survive any longer," commands the voice in the portal as it soon fades out.
Turning briefly to his side, the Protoss warrior quickly begins to issue orders to his subordinates.
"Where is Praetor Gratix now? Is he still within the city?"
"We do not know his present whereabouts but we do know he was last seen walking with the dark templar, Erkaza heading into the city. I believe they are journeying to visit their fallen comrade."
"Good, then we will have to move quickly if this plan is to succeed. Gather the others, we will require their assistance. We will need their aid in delaying the templars sufficiently for us to carry out our work."
"As you so order, Nich'laz," replies the aide as he rapidly leaves the room.
The Nich'laz smoothly moves towards a landing overlooking the greater half of the sparkling city and grunts with amusement at the confusion his impending plan will create. With one parting glance, he turns to leave his chambers to instruct his forces on the roles that they will be required to play.
***
Location: Fringe Regions of UED controlled space
Drifting silently among the thousands of rocks and debris that litters this sector of space, a small orbital relay disguised as a small asteroid, continues to maintain it's silent vigil. The three-man crew, despite having little in the way of work, continue their shifts monitoring their assigned sector for any unknown crafts. Generally their main job consists of merely trying to stay alert at their posts or to find ways to pass the long, boring hours. Theirs is a thankless job, but a necessary one, and it is precisely that reason that someone is fortunate enough to be at their post when their perimeter sensors happen to detect an incoming track. A sharp beep is heard and draws the surprised attention from the single sensor personnel on duty, his companions quietly dozing off in their cramped quarters.
"-What the hell?!"
Quickly keying in his commands, dozens of linked sensors scattered throughout the area soon track in on the inbound target and beam that information back to the outpost. Target data is analyzed, compiled and updated as vectors are drawn up indicating the likely path of advance. The young crewman spares a quick glance at the target data and his eyes fly open as he suddenly realizes what the target is. He nearly falls over trying to reach for the alarm to awaken his other companions. A sharp, but mercifully brief, hooting alarm resounds throughout the small outpost as the two remaining crewmembers scramble to their posts.
"What's going on? Are we under attack?" blurts out the other crewmember as he stumbles onto the operations deck.
The only officer onboard, a young Ensign, manages to keep his cool as he calmly asks for an update.
"What've you got Mikhail?"
"Our sensor net has just detected a target entering our area, sir."
"Has the computer run it through yet? Is it that transport we're supposed to be expecting?"
"Nye," replies Mikhail with a shake of his head, "the computer identifies the target as a Protoss fighter. According to the vectors, the fighter is headed straight for our sector base."
"Have the power cells recovered their charge yet?"
"Ya, we have sufficient power to send a burst transmission."
Pointing towards the other crewmember, the young Ensign quickly passes on his orders.
"McGill, compress that target data down and send it out with the alert transmission. HQ has got to get this fast!"
"Already ahead of you, sir," replies McGill as his hands move like a blur over his console. "Data is encoded and I'm sending now."
Lights dim briefly all over the small outpost as every last available erg of energy is spent to power the signal over dozens of light years to its destination. The process is repeated again to insure that the message is received.
"Let's hope they get it in time," says Ensign Gates.
"What's a Protoss fighter doing this far out in the middle of nowhere and by itself no less," asks McGill to no one in particular.
"I do not know, tovarish," answers back Mikhail Nieto solemnly, "but I do know that will not bring us great fortunes."
"I want these scopes manned round the clock until I say otherwise guys," states Gates.
"Let's also run some maintenance checks on our equipment as well just to be on the safe side. The last thing I want to have happen is our stuff failing on us when we need it most."
His men simply nod their heads in agreement as they begin to run down their system checklists.
"Where there is one, there is bound to be others right behind him. Let's hope this guy was just lost otherwise we're in for some serious trouble," Gates adds quietly as he continues to stare at the rapidly fading fighter.
