John Conrad began spending more and more time at the Templar Archives. There, he studied the myriad psionic techniques developed by the Protoss. He would take this newfound knowledge each day, and travel into the wilderness, and practice his skills hunting the reptilian kakaru.
None sought to bar his studies, and this prompted him to study ever more dangerous techniques. Only when he began to develop an interest in the fearsome powers of the Dark Archons, particularly their mind control powers, did he arouse the concern of Jazin and Kradesch. Even then, their concern was mainly for Conrad’s safety. Jazin reminded him time again, “Please, Terran. Remember the damage your powers have done to you body before.” Or Kradesch would tell him, “Do not view the amulet as an infinite source of power. It can only channel so much energy. If you exceed that limit, you risk damage to yourself, and those around you.”
He would always respond, “Don’t worry. I only study the Archons out of curiosity. I have no intention of risking my life without need.”
Little did either of them suspect the sort of plans brewing in his head. He had every intention of harnessing these powers. Ever since Kradesch had reminded him of Kerrigan, his old blood oath had returned to dominate his every waking hour.
Now, the hunt had brought him his test. A lone kakaru, perched on an ancient and graceful Xel’Naga structure. He stopped, paused. He surveyed the horizon, ensuring that no one was watching. He had abandoned such opportunities before for fear of outsiders observing his activities. Now, he steeled himself for the coming task. He lay his rifle on the ground, and took several soft steps towards the creature.
Here goes nothing, Conrad thought.
He closed his eye, and began to channel the energies, as the texts had described. The amulet grew hot against his chest, and his body trembled with the sheer effort. He clenched his jaw, and channeled even more power through himself.
He finally released the energies. His knees buckled under him, and he collapsed to the dirt. His entire body was drained from the effort. He thought he had failed. He raised his head, to see the kakaru standing motionless. He became slowly aware of strange images in his head.
Finally, overcome by an impulse, he willed the creature to take flight. At once, it launched itself from its perch. He was amazed how easily the kakaru responded to his commands, after it was under his control.
***
He returned to the Citadel, but was intercepted outside of New Antioch. It was an ancient, withered looking Dark Templar, with a slow, ragged voice.
“Who are you?” Conrad asked.
“You know of me. I am Zeratul.” The Dark Templar said.
“Zeratul? I didn’t know you’d returned to Shakuras.” Conrad said in amazement. He felt the immense aura of power surrounding Zeratul.
“Nor does anyone else, and I do ask that you notify no one. I will not be here long.” Zeratul said. “I heard of a Terran rising through the Templar ranks. I came to meet you.”
Conrad was deeply prided that a living legend would come to Shakuras, and conceal his identity only to meet with him.
“I witnessed your feat in the wilderness, young Templar,” Zeratul said. “I am amazed you frail Terran body could survive such energies. Kradesch must have vastly underestimated you.”
“The way I feel after that, perhaps not.” Conrad said.
“Beware, Terran. You expose yourself to great risk. Even the Dark Archons barely survive the mind control process.” With that, Zeratul simply vanished. Damn, I wish I could figure out how to do that! Conrad thought.
Following Zeratul’s request, he did not tell anyone o the meeting. For that matter, he did not have the chance. He arrived in a much-changed New Antioch. The city had transformed into a mobilized war machine. The permanently stationed Arbiters recalled ships from far flung posts. Dragoons and Zealots marched down streets. At the Citadel, a young trainee hid in the shadows. Upon seeing Conrad approach, the Protoss rushed to him. “Jazin wanted you to see this. He says you’re in danger.” He said.
He handed Conrad a Terran data-pad. It contained the Dominion Daily News. The banner headline read ominously: Traitor John Conrad Alive, Being Sheltered By Protoss. Conrad was bewildered. How can they know I’m here? He knew the answer. Someone on Shakuras worked for the Dominion.
He read the article, glancing over the section on his escape from Mengsk’s fleet, and his service in various anti-Dominion forces. Finally, near the bottom, he found the part he wanted. It read:
The traitor Conrad was traced to the Terran refugee camp New Antiga, on Shakuras three years ago. Loyal Dominion operative Joseph Langly, who has posed as the mayor of New Antiga for over three years, met Conrad. Langly reports that after a brief stay, Conrad destroyed a building, and left. From here, he disappeared. Four weeks ago, Joseph Langly intercepted information that the Protoss have been harboring the traitor, and have plans to deploy him as an assassin to kill our Emperor Arcturus Mengsk I. Emperor Mengsk is personally heading a military campaign to capture or kill the evil traitor Conrad at all cost.
Conrad didn’t need to read anymore. He knew what he would do. Mengsk’s attack could not succeed. The Dominion fleet was in far worse condition than the Protoss after the battle on the Omega Platform. But the last thing Conrad wanted was to watch thousands of Protoss and Terrans die when he held the power to end it.
“Where is Jazin? Why wasn’t I notified of this immediately?” Conrad demanded.
The young Protoss shrank from the outburst. “Jazin is at the Nexus. You’ll have to ask him. I’m just the messenger.”
Conrad tore through the street. He shoved his way through columns of zealots, and ran directly under the legs of a Dragoon. When he finally reached the Nexus, he could hear the approaching thunder of war.
The guards initially denied him access. So, he found a place where the guards couldn’t see him, and engaged his cloak. He then strode past the guards, and waved to them. They never noticed.
Inside, he decloaked, and made his way to the pinnacle of the pyramid. After running for several minutes, an explosion struck the Nexus. Conrad was thrown to the floor, and his ocular implants flickered. He regained his footing, and made it to the command center without further incident.
“Why the hell didn’t you call me Jazin? You know nobody has to die for this!” Conrad yelled. The viewscreens flickered, and the floor heaved as a Firestorm bomber landed a direct hit on the side of the Nexus.
“I could not risk the Dominion gaining control of a weapon as fearsome as you. Particularly after you feat today.” Jazin responded. Conrad’s eyes got wide. He was shocked that Jazin knew about that. “Do not be shocked. It is impossible to channel so much psionic energy and go unnoticed.”
“Call off your troops. I’ll put an end to this!” Conrad said.
“No, we cannot risk–” Jazin started.
Conrad struck Jazin on the back of the head. Even a Protoss was susceptible to a massive blow to the skull. As Jazin lost consciousness, Conrad whispered to him, “I’m sorry. You’ll understand soon.” He rose, took over the communications station over from the shocked Protoss there, and opened a channel to Mengsk’s command ship.
On the screen, the Emperor’s bearded face appeared, but Mengsk was turned, and didn’t see Conrad’s face appear. “Call off the attack Mengsk.” Conrad said coldly.
Mengsk turned his bearded face to the screen, and smiled with evil glee. “Well, well, Johnny. I knew we’d get to see each other again. You have some explaining to do.”
“Kiss my ass, Mengsk. Call off the damn attack!”
“I will call off the attack,” Mengsk roared, “when I have you locked in my brig!”
Conrad bowed his head in concentration. The faint glimmer of a plan appeared in his mind. “Ok,” he said. “You have a deal. Just give me three hours to get a ship, and I’ll come to you command ship alone, and unarmed. Just call off the attack. The Protoss and your soldiers have nothing to do with our business.”
“You have two hours.” Mengsk said, and closed the channel. He kept his promise too, the Terran forces began to retreat. As he left, Conrad ordered the Protoss in charge of the Nexus to order their forces to hold, and to have a scout prepared for him.
***
At the Stargate, a scout was prepared, and ready for launch. Technicians were loading the ship with missiles, but Conrad told them to stop. “I don’t need weapons for this mission.” He climbed into the ship, and sped along the ground towards New Antiga.
He brought the ship to a stop on the outskirts of the camp. He fingered the small holdout pistol in his pocket, and checked his watch. He had just over an hour left. Fifteen minutes here, twenty to fly to New Antioch…Plenty of time, he thought.
He went right to the center of the camp, where a crashed command center served as the mayor’s mansion. He entered unannounced, after incapacitating the guard with a psionic attack. In the central command area, now serving as an office, he found Joe Langly sitting at a steel-topped desk, watching the battle on a few working viewscreens.
“Greetings.” Conrad said softly.
Langly spun, his eyes wide with horror when he saw Conrad. “I-I thought you surrendered,” he stammered.
Conrad made a great show of checking his watch. “Not for another fifty-two minutes, eighteen seconds.”
“What do you want with me?” Langly asked. His balding head was beaded with sweat, and his fat face glistened even in the dim light.
“This.” Conrad pulled out his gun, took two steps forward, and pressed it to Langly’s head. “I want you to know what happens to people who piss me off.” He pulled the trigger. Langly tried to twist away, but was too late. The bullet struck him in the left eye, leaving a small, bloody hole there, and a gaping chasm where its shattered fragments exited the back of his skull. Langly’s body slumped into his chair, his remaining eye turned glassy as the spark of life was stamped out. Conrad tossed the gun in the dead man’s lap, and quickly left.
He checked his watch. Twenty minutes left… His business in New Antiga had taken longer than he anticipated. To mask his activity, he flew back to the Starport in New Antioch, where he stopped, and opened a channel to the Nexus. Jazin’s face appeared, and he spoke before Conrad had the chance. “What do you think your doing?”
“Nobody has to die over this. If I have my way, the only one dead will be Mengsk… but that’s an old score. Stay in the Nexus, or keep someone there. When I’m done, I’ll contact you. Be ready to recall whatever ship I blast my way out of Korhal in.” Conrad closed the channel, and steered the scout into a sharp ascent towards the waiting fleet.
As he approached Mengsk’s command ship, Norad IV, the Emperor’s voice crackled through his radio, “Hold your position. Power down you weapons, shields, and engines.” Conrad’s first impulse was to gun the engines and ram the Norad, but he resisted it. A wing of wraiths formed a sphere around him, and four firestorms formed a blockade around him, preventing any maneuvers. A cargo ship pulled up behind the scout, and two scavenger drones attached to it, and directed it into the cargo bay.
Aboard the Norad IV, Conrad was searched. The two marines doing the search removed his cloak and shield, but left the bulletproof vest. As they began to check his legs, Conrad prayed they wouldn’t notice the glass bladed knife there. He had banked on a metal-detector search, not a hand search. They found the knife, however. One of the two briefly paused and examined the heavy metal band on his right wrist. Not recognizing the warp-blade generator, he assumed it was jewelry. As expected, they ignored the amulet. It was not Dominion policy to take valuables from living prisoners. They invariably ended up dead anyway, and it was easier to rob a corpse.
After the search, Mengsk ordered Conrad locked in a stasis cell for the duration of the trip to Korhal.
***
Conrad awoke in a six-by-four cell. He knew from his time with Mengsk that anyone wanted for offenses against the throne were held in a prison deep underground at the Capitol Complex in Augustgrad. Outside the cell, a massive oaf sat in a dangerously overloaded chair. Seeing Conrad awake, he stuck his head up to the bars of the cell, and said, “Tim Brasi. Do like I say, and you keep your face.”
Not very desirable, but the best I can do, Conrad thought. “Charmed.” He muttered.
Brasi became enraged, and reached through the bars, grabbing Conrad by the collar and slamming him into the bars. Conrad stuck his hands out of the cell, and placed them on Brasi’s temples, and began the mind control technique he had practiced on the kakaru back on Shakuras.
The dull witted moose’s mind broke easily, but still, Conrad was so drained by the effort that he collapsed into the back of the cell. This attracted the attention of a passing guard in the corridor, who entered and asked, “Is everything OK in here?”
Brasi’s body spoke normally, naturally, “He got a bit insubordinate, so I had ta’ rough him up a bit.” Insubordinate? Conrad thought, Is that even a word? He felt better to assume that Brasi’s mind assembled actual words, and Conrad’s only provided the concepts to be uttered. At any rate, the ploy worked. The guard nodded, smiled at Conrad and left.
Quickly, Conrad walked Brasi over to the storage lockers across from his cell, and unlocked each one. Then, Brasi unlocked the cell itself, leaving it closed so that it looked locked.
He put Brasi to sleep in his chair, and released control of him.
Part one, Conrad though, Now it’s show time.
Outside, several dozen guards milled about in the Capitol Courtyard. All was well in Augustgrad, so there was no need for alertness.
Suddenly, the entire area erupted in crackling electricity. The psionic storm tore their bodies apart, and sent a patrolling wraith spinning into one of the main towers of the Capitol Complex.
Inside, Conrad felt the entire city shake under him. He smiled. The complex was alive with blaring sirens, and Arcturus’s voice broke the din on the loudspeakers, “Warning. All personnel to combat stations! There are Protoss in the Complex. Repeat: There are Protoss in the Complex.”
Brasi jumped to his feet. “Well, now. You can’t go anywhere, so just stay where you are,” he said as he ran from the room.
Conrad counted in his head… Fifteen seconds, plenty of time, even for the dumb Brasi to find his way to his combat station. Sliding the cell open, Conrad silently opened the storage lockers. From the first, he took a gauss rifle and from the second, a holdout pistol and a small satchel of grenade. The third contained his belongings. After collecting his belongings, he took a peek in the fourth locker. Typically, this would hold the guard’s personal belongings, but this time, it contained a large, sleekly built rifle.
He lifted the weapon from its rack. It was clearly Terran in design, but where the firing chamber would be in any other gun, there was a pear-sized khaydarin crystal. At the end of the barrel, another, smaller crystal protruded where the opening should be.
“What the hell?” Conrad said out loud. He pointed the weapon at the wall, and pulled the trigger. A powerful laser beam seared the air, and left a large, glowing mass of heat-twisted metal in the wall. “Holy shit!” He cried. “I know what Johnny’s getting for Christmas!” Suddenly, the gauss rifle slung over his shoulder felt pitifully weak. He dropped the inferior gun. Time for part three, he though as he raised his shields and engaged his cloak.
***
Conrad silently entered the hall outside the Emperor’s chambers. He counted twenty guards. He almost regretted forcing the base to full alert. Normally, there would be no more than four guards. But this was the only way to guarantee that Mengsk would be in his chambers.
Conrad sat silently, invisible under his cloak, with his new toy held at ready. He sat for several minutes, as the guards moved around the hall. Finally, he had six of them lined up in his sights. He squeezed the trigger, and the laser shattered the guards’ bodies. The remaining guards opened fire with their gauss rifles. Conrad rolled out of the way, but his shields glowed under the hail.
Running in circles, firing randomly at the guards, Conrad succeeded in herding them into a tight group.
“Goodnight,” he said mockingly, and tossed a grenade into the group.
That done, he strode to the huge doors. He was about to open them, but thought about how he’d always wanted to make one of those big entrances like in the movies. He took out another grenade, armed it, and set it on the door handle. He backed away from the door, dropped his cloak, and prayed that his shield would absorb any of the blast that hit him.
The doors were completely shattered, and metal shrapnel showered the hall. Inside, he found Mengsk sitting at his desk, with a shocked expression on his face. “Hello, Arcturus.”
The Emperor’s mouth moved, but he was unable to produce any sound. Conrad drew his pistol. “I don’t like long good byes. So, good bye!” He fired three shots into Mengsk’s chest. Mengsk slumped forward, and fell with a dull thud to the floor. Conrad engaged his cloak and was gone.
***
Some time later, and more than eighty floors lower, Conrad spun around a corner, and to the door he wanted. He raised his laser rifle to blast the door open, and noticed the sign bolted to the door: “Biological Containment: Authorized Personnel Only”
“What the hell?” This should be the main power generator. Had they changed the layout?
He headed back to the main corridor, and began checking every door in every side hall. He passed a security office, and some memories from his time working under Duran entered his head. He stopped and looked back. He remembered Duran saying he had bought off a security guard inside the Capitol Complex to sabotage the generator.
On impulse, Conrad went back to the Biological Containment door, raised his weapon, and blasted the door out of its track. Inside, he saw exactly what he wanted. Three consoles, overlooking a massive fusion reactor. There were two technicians on duty, and both were lying dead, impaled by shrapnel from the door.
Conrad opened his satchel, and counted the grenades, eighteen. After a quick menial calculation, he decided he had enough to break the containment field, and rupture the doughnut shaped reactor. He took out one grenade, set its timer for five minutes, replaced it, tossed the entire satchel onto the generator, and ran like hell
He emerged onto the landing pad on the Complex’s roof, and looked at his watch. He counted the last seconds off, five… four… three… two…
His watch was off. The entire complex shook as the reactor blew. The landing pad split open, and fire enveloped most of the ships there. Conrad ran to the far end of the pad. He found a ship tucked in a hanger, which didn’t even resemble any Dominion design he had ever seen. It didn’t matter to him. If it flew, he could fly it.
As he climbed the ladder, he heard voices calling, “Halt!” He realized his cloak was falling. His power reserve was gone. Quickly, he climbed into the cockpit. He was amazed at the luxury of the small ship. He realized with delight that he was taking Mengsk’s personal fighter. It’s not like he’ll be using it anytime soon… He thought, thinking of the look on the emperor’s face as he pulled the trigger.
He didn’t have time to enjoy the comforts, however. He could hear bullets striking the hull of the craft. He fired up the engines, and blasted out of the hanger under full afterburners, cooking anyone lucky enough to have survived the reactor explosion.
Entering orbit, he surveyed the controls. They were much like those of a wraith, but the little ship had several weapon panels, displaying dozens of missiles, bombs, and weapons.
Suddenly, the intercom burst with static, and a voice broke through. “Surrender now, Conrad.”
Conrad picked up the headset, and laughed into it. “Kiss my ass,” he said as he threw the fighter into a spin, and fired the main gun at a wing of wraiths rising out of the atmosphere to intercept him.
“Holy shit!” Conrad yelled when the main weapon turned out to be a fragmentation cannon. The small missiles glided into the oncoming wraiths, and exploded, sending thousands of metal shards into the attackers. Conrad was forced to pull his fighter into a snap-roll to avoid colliding with the flaming wrecks.
He swung the royal fighter away from Korhal, and broke for open space. Squinting into the darkness, he could see the huge forms of a dozen battlecruisers maneuvering to block him. As he approached, a visual communication appeared from the lead ship. A young man with a poorly maintained goatee flickered onto the screen by Conrad’s head, saying, “John Conrad. You are wanted for treason, theft of Dominion property, attempted assassination of–”
Conrad raised his middle finger to the camera by the screen, then smashed the communications panel with his elbow. “Such trash on television these days,” he said to himself.
He enabled the ships targeting system. The holographic head-up display illuminated the cockpit. Centering on a point just ahead of the engines of one battlecruiser, he fired off several shots from the frag cannon. The shots exploded off of the huge ship’s hull, and fire erupted from its engines. The cruiser’s lights flickered, then died. Conrad smiled to himself.
Suddenly, the gears clicked. His smile disappeared. You are wanted for theft of dominion property, attempted assassination of…
“Attempted assassination?” he said, “That son of a bitch is still alive?” Fiery hate welled in him. Scanning the holographic readouts, he located the command ship, and steered his fighter into a collision course with its bridge.
From his pocket, he produced a small khaydarin-encrusted Protoss device. He activated it, and spoke into it, “Jazin, prepare to recall this ship on my mark.”
He pushed the throttle up as far as it went. Collision alarms filled the cockpit. The helmsman of the cruiser began to move the lumbering ship out of his way, but the commander must have ordered him to hold. The cruiser centered on Conrad’s course, and stopped firing. Conrad smiled. If there was one thing all commanders knew how to do with their ships, it was how to play chicken. “One minute until impact,” the computer informed him. The rest of the Dominion fleet held fire as well. It was an old tradition, from the days before the Confederacy, not to interfere when two commanders were locked in this kind of battle.
He began flipping switches, arming all of the various missiles and bombs adorning the tiny ship. He lifted the plastic shield over the eject handle, and released the clamps holding the cockpit to the rest of the ship. He waited until the computer began the final count. “Ten seconds until impact. Five… four… three… two…”
He pulled the eject handle. Pyrotechnic bolts fired, and the cockpit separated from the ship. He pulled up on the controls. The pod responded slowly, but he avoided collision with the cruiser’s bridge. He spun the pod upside-down so he could see the rest of the fighter crash headlong into the huge ship. A massive explosion tore apart the bridge of the battlecruiser. A second later, the ammunition on the fighter detonated, tearing the entire front section of the cruiser asunder.
“Jazin,” Conrad said into the device, “I’m ready. Bring me home.”
A green vortex opened around the pod, and the burning capitol ship vanished from his view.
