The next morning, Jazin returned. When he approached, he saw Conrad perched atop the collapsed remnants of his shack. “I said you would have to sacrifice your home. Not demolish it.”
Conrad smiled, “I didn’t do this, I guess I’m just not that hot an architect.”
“It is of no accord, when one lives in the shell of a machine.” Jazin said. “Have you reached a decision?”
Conrad raised an eyebrow, “If my decision was no, don’t you think I’d be rebuilding right about now?”
“Then come, young Terran, my ship awaits.” Conrad collected his meager belongings, took one last look at his pile, and bid New Antiga a joyful farewell.
***
He arrived at what would be his new home. A huge, graceful structure hovering over the bleak landscape of New Antioch. “What is this place?” he asked.
“This is my Citadel. The Citadel of Adun is the training ground for new Templar.” Jazin said. Their ship landed softly in a hangar in the building itself. They disembarked, and Jazin lead Conrad to a small lift.
“You require… repairs.”
“Pardon me?” Conrad asked, confused.
“The Terran scientists placed devices in your brain. You know of these. Those devices will render you powers all but useless to you. The damage must be repaired.”
What the hell am I, a damn machine? Conrad thought.
The lift deposited them in a long ward, of sorts. Several Protoss appeared, as if from nowhere, and guided Conrad to a table. “Please, lay here. You will not be harmed.” As he lay down, the Protoss lowered what looked like a Confederate neurosurgical scaffold device over his head, the same kind of device used to implant the dampers. As soon as the device was in place, Conrad soon lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he found Jazin standing over him. “It is done. Now, come with me.” He lead Conrad through long hallways, lined with Protoss. He saw young Zealots sparring, more experienced Templars meditating, and more engaged in activities he couldn’t even pretend to understand. These halls became his life for three standard years, as he was trained in the tradition started by Tassadar. Jazin sought to teach him, as well as young Protoss Templar, to channel both the traditional Psionic powers, as well as those of the Dark Templar. Although he was Jazin’s favored pupil, he found himself hard pressed to prove himself to his new Protoss brethren.
For this, he had to wait for three years. At that time, he was pitted against a Protoss in hand to hand combat. His fellow pupils mocked him, and his opponent hammered him. Deep in his mind, Conrad felt that familiar snap. The same snap that turned him into a murdering thief so long ago.
Conrad felt a burning power well up in him. The energy flowed down his limbs, leaving a mess of deadened nerves and torn capillaries behind it. The air scintillated with sheer power, and the Protoss was laid flat on his back, on the edge of death.
Conrad staggered back, unable to comprehend the power that he wielded, not understanding what he had just did… He seemed to watch the event from some detached location, in a dreamlike state. His one thought: This can’t be real…
That evening, while the other Protoss sat in silent meditation Conrad retreated to his chambers for his own form of meditation. He tinkered with his cloaking device. On the floor sat the wreck of a Protoss Observer, with its electronic innards strewn about. The part of interest sat next to Conrad’s own counterpart of it. He pondered how he could work the Protoss cloak into his own combat gear. His thoughts were jarred, however, by the sound of a Protoss entering.
He did not fear reprimand, it was well known that he could concentrate much better with some small job to do. But this presence was something new. He turned, to see a dark, shrouded figure. The being’s face was covered by dark cloth, and its cloak fell from its gaunt frame like a cape. Its head bore the severed nerve-appendages that marked the Dark Templar.
“Greetings young Templar.” Conrad was shocked to hear this word attached to him. “I am Kradesch.”
“How may I help you?” Conrad asked.
“It is, how may I help you?” Kradesch said. “I served with Tassadar. As such, I have witnessed many variations of psionic emanations. However, the energies you unleashed today were unlike any I have felt from most beings.”
“How is that? Isn’t it the same force that you, or for that matter, all psionic beings utilize?” Conrad asked.
“Yes it is. Do remember, that we there are two parts to that power. In these ‘enlightened’ times, both of these parts are fully recognized. Nevertheless, nearly all protoss are forced to choose which of the two facets of their power to develop within themselves: The Dark Templar or the Light Templar. The psionic force you unleashed today is a blend of these powers, not unlike that used by Tassadar himself.”
From within his shroud, Kradesch produced a necklace-like object. It consisted of the black rock of the Argus talisman carried by Dark Templar, with a Khaydarin crystal embedded in it. “I was concerned by the damage your body sustained because of your power. So, I had this prepared for you. Tassadar owned an amulet not unlike it.”
He handed the amulet to Conrad. “We Templar take such events very seriously. The smallest tremor hints at a coming earthquake. You may be quite close to realizing your full potential, but if you do so without protection, it will likely kill you. That amulet will allow you to channel both facets of you power without fear for yourself.”
Conrad held the amulet in his hands, and slowly lowered the chain over his head. Kradesch nodded in satisfaction. “Wear it with pride, Terran. No human can claime a gift such as yours.” And he was gone, without waiting for a thank you.
Conrad pondered his final words. No human can claim a gift such as yours. He didn’t say “terran.”
He said “human.”
Kradesch knew what he was saying. There was one Terran who could claim a gift such as his. But she was by no means human…
Her name had not touched his thoughts in three years, but now, it was back with a burning vengeance.
