"Going all scouts didn't work out. Go fig."
-Bob_the_Newt
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| The Alliance - Part 3 | | | Author: | | | IP: | 139.57.1XXXX | | Date: | 02/16/00 01:02 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 8, Min: 8
Lifetime Rating for |]agomar: 8.6667 |  | The Alliance
Part 3 - The Founding
for this to make any sense at all, you must first read parts one and two.
A tiny black speck raced out from the brilliant, shrinking whirlpool of light. As the Warpoint flared spectacularly out of existence, the miniature mote sailed unheedingly onwards towards a bright beacon of light yet far away. Within the particle of metal in the void of space, Noro was bent thoughtfully over a small holographic map. He looked up.
"Hi there, Katel."
"Greetings. I see you are trying to find a place to descend . . . have you been successful?"
"Not yet. Where there isn't ice, there are huge, steep mountains that we can't possibly hope to land on!"
"Maybe that is just on this side. I do believe we can create a base on Ice, however . . . ."
"Very uncomfortable. Besides, the machines will be breaking down, people will get lost, food will be tough to get, scouting will-"
"There is a Space Platform orbiting the planet."
"What? How big?"
"Rather large. That signifies the presence of a colony of some sort."
"Why not simply Terran?"
"Yes, it is true that only humans build such primitive constructs, yet the Zerg might have overrun this system before, and thus have a hive cluster here now."
"Damn, I hadn't thought of that . . . has Mark completed his preliminary scan?"
"He has indeed, and it is from this that I know there is a Platform in orbit. Other information includes the presence of several indigneous species, only two of which are large and dangerous for humans, as well as at least the remnants of a Terran village in the Northern-"
"A Terran village?! Has he checked for energy?"
"No. We are not in range."
"We will be in a few minutes; I'm gonna increase our speed. After all, I wouldn't know where to go but here."
"Agreed. Yet I would like to know the name of this world."
"Lokon."
Outside, the ugly, battered dropship flared its engines and accelerated, coasting rapidly towards a now distinctly blue-white disk.
"Scan shows energy levels!" whooped Mark.
"Alright! That's where we're landing! Let's move!"
"The village is in the Northern hemisphere," said Katel as the planet grew ever larger and more foreboding on the view screen, "that shall not be easy for you Terrans."
"They made it out there, you gotta admit."
"What is the difference, exactly, between Terran and Zerg energy emissions?" asked Peon Smith. Everyone looked at him in surprise.
"Exactly," spoke the Protoss.
"Well, you know what I said once about risks, Katel."
Clouds were now visible, swiring wildly above a pale blue sphere. Occassionally, massive, towering white mountains were visible poking through them, and once a huge Canyon burst into view, which must have been at least 5000 km long. The ship sailed on, now in orbit, just above the first wispy filaments of the swirling atmosphere.
"What exactly are we doing? Why are we waiting?" asked Rogers.
"We must wait for a blizzard to subside in the area, before we can descend," proclaimed the Protoss warrior.
"We'll use this as an opportunity to check the platform for resources, as well. Who knows, maybe we can harvest enough to build us a base there, and ferry men up from the planet."
"Hmm, well I'd prefer a planet, even one like this."
"So would I, peon, yet we do what's most conveniant both strategically and with regards to resources. If there aren't any on the planet and ther're lots up here, this is where we'll stay."
"Right sir," said Rogers, nodding to the two of them. Silence.
"You know what is needed?" spoke the Protoss suddenly.
"What?"
"A probe. Even a single probe shall do. We will then be able to warp structures and warriors here, without relying upon a small Terran colony for soldiers."
"I agree with you in principle, yet we gotta think of morale, both of the people who are here in this ship, and the colony below. Just think what would happen if they viewed this as a purely Protoss operation? They would never go along with our plan, and, to be honest, neither would I."
"I would despise such a situation, for it goes against everything we have been planning. To properly combat the Zerg we require the united strength of both the Protoss and the Terrans, for I shall concede that both our races have its strengths and weaknesses."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"Merely that there are so many Protoss in this plan as there are Terrans, so it does not, as you humans state, 'work the other way around.'"
"I agree with that entirely, then. Yet we gotta establish some sort of base here, before our enemies, whether, Terran, Zerg, Protoss or whatever, will come visit."
"Very well. Yet after a defense is erected, we shall seize a probe."
The Space Platform was laden with minerals, yet the renegades decided to construct at least a preliminary base near the small town, and take the risk that Zerg might be there, although this by now appeared highly unlikely, since an intercept had not yet appeared on radar. They would later rise from the planet and create another outpost on the platform, thus ensuring a good resource income. The minerals would then be beamed from place to place using transporters, and be used for further expansions on the planet's surface. Minutes after the decision was made, the dropper veered downwards and began to enter the atmosphere, slowly heating up as the airy resistance increased. The Anit-grav harness was now emplyed, and the damaged ship jerked violently once, then straightened its descent and coasted smoothly North towards the little town.
Sure enough, the squat, functional shapes that were a Terran colony and occasional cylindrical spire that rose from them, slowly appeared over the foreboding mountains just ahead.
"That doesn't look like Zerg to me, Katel."
"No, I am convinced there are none, Noro."
"Alright, their radar must have spotted us by now. We're moving in close to that Command Center."
"Good."
"Mark's in his Goliath?" A curt nod from the Protoss was the answer as he scanned the small settlement below.
"Excellent. Then that's the first thing we'll do, deploy him with the two SCVs to repair on spot if gets damaged."
"Very well. This is a complete scan of the village," said Katel, displaying a small, cluttered, holographic map.
"Alot of housing constructs and supply depots," mused the Commander,"that gives us a good population base to start recruiting from."
"Correct, if they agree to our presence."
The Tarsonis B landed with an explosion of smoke and a sudden, nauseating jump down onto the frigid surface. Immediately the payload door clattered open and a Goliath strode majestically out, overawing the scattered humans who had gathered to look. Now the Protoss leaped out, followed quickly by his smaller companions. The villagers drew back.
"Greetings, Terrans. We have come here to establish a new base, based on cooperation by our two great races to mutually combat the Zerg," pronounced Katel loudly and with grandeur.
"In short: we want to make a new military base here, and we'll need your help to fight the Zerg," breezed Noro, smiling.
"Otherwise, once the majority of our two societies are exterminated, the Zerg will turn here and devour you whole," hissed Katel ominously. The townsmen shuddered.
"We know all about the Zerg, we assure you," said a bearded old man at the front of the crowd, "and we welcome you here with honour. What's ours is yours."
After dinner, the Peons were immediately set to work, with Mark patrolling nearby, and the rest of the renegades were led to a small rectangular building that looked more like a barracks than a home. Their guests seemed to view it as top of the line, so they were forced to accept.
"Well, it sure is a good coincidence that the platform base was decimated by the Tiamet only a week ago," said Noro, "otherwise we might still be out there, arguing."
"It was fortunate indeed. Now that we have acquired 300 minerals, I suggest we construct two barracks, to train the natural residents who reside here."
"'Course, Katel, that was once my superior's favourite building order, and he defeated two swarms of Zerg at the same time, simply by teching quickly to Science Vessels."
"Indeed. Unfortunately I know few of your Terran tactics, only what Tassadar himself once taught me so many years ago, when I was a warrior in the Templar Expeditionary Force. Yet I do comprehend that we are best to construct Goliaths at the time."
"Probably, with marine and medic support. But I want a Wraith Squadron. Remember, I'm a pilot; I belong in the skies."
"As do I, my friend, do not forget that."
"I won't. You'll get your probe as soon as we're finished building up here."
"Very well." spoke Katel.
"Listen, I think I'll make some Valkyries before I do anything with regards to Wraiths. Valks are great against Zerg, and those Corsairs I been seeing more n' more in your squads."
"That appears to be a good plan. Yet we shall have to move quickly. An attack may come the following year, next month, or tomorrow. Never forget that."
The two stepped outside later that night, to survey the construction. Against the starry backdrop and the jagged peaks of nearby mountains, vast girders rose high into the sky, supported by huge panels and an intricate network of wide metal poles. The Peons, working within their massive Space Construction Vehicles, were moving systematically from place to place within the growing structure, transforming the harvested minerals stored deep inside the nearby Command Center to useful steels and metals, then using these to further expand the enormous buildings. Another few days, said Rogers, and they'd be ready.
Sure enough, on Thursday of the same week, the towering barracks stood ready at last, with the subtle sounds of armour construction and marine training dimly hearable in the backround. With the townspeople gazing in awe, a bunker was being erected nearby, while a short distance away, on top a ragged, icy hill, a vespene refinery was slowly being molded around the existing gas craters, spewing forth puffs of green mist. In the Command Center, another SCV was being constructed, and would soon be finished, ready to accept its Terran operator and harvest from the large nearby mineral site that jutted its blue pinnacles above the ancient snow not far away. And in the distance, serving as the fledgling base's recon, the mammoth Goliath patrolled amongst the frozen mountains.
"We're building up our tech structure, Katel," said Noro as they walked back to their home.
"I see it. But we must not do it too quickly. The barracks can serve to train marines and medics for the moment, who will function well for our initial defense."
"I don't agree with that. We don't exactly have masses of manpower here, and, in case of an attack, I don't want to see hundreds of people die . . . because of me. I suggest we make more Tanks, Goliaths and Valkyries for now, units that are far stronger than individual marines yet require only one or two people to operate."
"Very well. Yet I demand we have at least two bunkers. I know from experience how powerful such primitive Terran structures are," said the Protoss grimly, seemingly remembering scenes from the past.
"Right, ok. But after I'm done with the refinery and the bunker, we'll tech up to a factory. Then, before we do anything else, we'll need a supply depot and another ten SCVs. Our resource stockpile is diminishing with every new structure."
Within a week, 12 SCVs were busy with resource gathering, the townspeople having been trained in what Smith called "the art of resource gathering." Noro and Katel had now made their home within the Command Center, and currently sat within the Central Command Center, ( or CCC ) surrounded by the new volunteer base personnel, gazing at the mineral count.
"Very well. We shall now construct our first Starport," said Katel, and he signaled the nearest Peon to begin the process.
"And it looks like we'll still have enough left to make another turret by Lokon Peak. I'll signal Rogers to begin on that."
"Good. Also, with the 75 mineral crystals remaining, we shall be able to commence vulture creation at Factory B."
"Gotcha. Sounds great," breezed Noro, reviewing the Status reports, then, turning upon a few volunteers busy at computers nearby, he said, "tell Captain Kennings he can stand down for the moment. I want to talk to him." the first volunteer nodded, and soon Mark was contacted within his Goliath.
At the moment, he was just returning anyway, so he replied courtly and continued on his course. Such a change in Noro had taken place, he thought. Before - just remember how easy going and relaxed he had been, always the first to joke, always the first to laugh a worry away - now he looked haggard, yet fulfilled, and spoke with the voice not of the farmboy from Calum he once was, but with the natural tone of a leader. Yes, Noro was different. And so was he. He had looked death in the eye. He had seen evil, in the form of the Colonel. Now, he was ready to make a difference, to help unite two races to fight the Zerg together, and forge an eternal friendship in the process. Mark sat back in his montrous machine. Well, you can't think seriously forever. He just couldn't wait until they trained the first medics . . . .
As Kennings strode into the CCC, Noro swerved in his chair to meet his friend.
"Captain, I wanna talk to you."
Mark nodded, smiling.
"First of all, what do you want to be: a soldier, a peon, or base personnel?"
"Soldier, of course."
"Good. Then we have a number of options available for you. Either you continue to operate that Goliath, become a Tank Pilot, a Vulture Cyclist, or a Valkyrie Captain. Those are all the options we-"
"Frigate Captain. Definately. I belong . . . up there," said Kennings, waving his hand vaguely about above his head.
"I thought so. Well, in about a week, we'll have our first ship. That'll be yours. Katel and I will have the one after that. See you in the skies, my brotha," said the Commander, grinning broadly.
Indeed, it was a week later that the lights and sounds of busy construction in the first enormous, cylindrical starport finally ceased. An uneasy silence reigned about the giant ctructure, until slowly, unnaturally, a large craft eased majestically out of the hollow ceiling platform. A 200 foot long Terran Frigate rumbled down onto the sizzled ground before the awed spectators, flames howling madly from its rear, as Mark stepped awkwardly forward to greet his new home. When the smoke had subsided somewhat and only stubborn wisps remained, the Captain bounded up the still descending ramps, and laughed in sheer joy, running about his craft, slamming counters, gazing out windows, rushing on to the control center. Noro followed behind, laughing, and Katel inspected the ship outside, a deeply pleased expression etched onto his normally grave face. Kennings strode out to his Commander, beaming joyfully.
"This is all I ever wanted," he said, "everything. I wouldn't have been able to fly this in the Dominion for another ten years! I can't believe it!"
"Well, she's yours now. What are you going to call her?"
"I'm not sure yet - how about Alpha?"
"Why that?"
"It's the first ship built here, on the first world where Protoss and Terran cooperate as equals. I think it's a fitting name." Mark seemed 10 years younger, but within those glowing eyes shone the spirit of a leader: the man Noro had always known he could be.
"Alright, my friend; now, good luck. You'll have to stay there for a week before coming down again. Supplies are loaded, so you'll have more than enough to eat, but don't go further away than 200,000 miles, agreed?"
"Definately. And - thanks."
The Commander was silent as he watched his companion dwindle out of sight on a trail of dark, crawling smoke. Yet when that tiny little speck was finally gone, the smile on his face dissapeared and a deeply pained frown seized his mouth. His eyes fell sorrowfully. Some friend he was, sending Mark out on the riskiest mission of them all. If an attack was to come now, Kennings would be the first to die, gauranteed, but Noro had sent him laughing gleefully, joyfully to what might be his doom. Katel's gaze met his. The Protoss understood. Slowly, he nodded. It was hard, but it had to be done. To be a soldier meant to die for your cause, yet death is never an easy thing to accept.
The days creeped by laboriously, as each day a cold white sun which utterly failed to heat the frigid, ice locked land below struggled up into the sky, bringing no news from Mark of the vast approaching fleet they all feared so intensely. Wednesday was yet another ordinary day, the marines trudging drearily through the snow before the icicle-like mountains rising up jaggedly in the background, the mighty tanks rolling on through vast, sweeping drifts, leaving behind deep, frozen tracks quickly covered up by the howling wind which would have no defilement of its subject lands. From inside the massive Command Center which still dominated the skyline despote the ever greater constructs being built around it, Noro looked out at what he goverened. Large, menacing turrets dotted the landscape, sometimes surrounding the low, snow-engulfed domes that were the bunkers. The occasional towering Goliath strode casually past, barely making headway against the wind. Sometimes an SCV would scream past, perhaps on its way to repair a tank that had rolled into a nearby death trap: places where the ice had been heated by subterranean activity so that they would slowly begin to melt away, and could not hold the 50 ton weight of the mighty macines that contituted many a Terran oupost. Very infrequently the great white beasts known as Ugladon would stride into the activty, always on the lookout for burried food. When these approached too close they would be slaughtered and roasted, providing excellent gourmet food for weeks on end. Yes, it was a tough existence, yet at least they were making headway. A new starport had been erected, as well as a science facility only 100m away from Noro's hut. Within days, his valkyrie would be finished, and then the dropship would have to be built, ready for a trip to capture a Protoss probe. What a risk that would be! To capture a peon from the center of a heavily defended-
Katel broke his reverie.
"Thus . . . what shall be the build order now?"
"Huh? Oh, Science Vessels, for now. We could certainly use Irradiate. It's just been researched, you know. Our scientists are doing pretty damn well."
"Very well. When do we depart?"
"On Saturday. Base Personnel are already stacking provisions; including a certain Protoss delicacy known as-"
"That is good, yet we have no time to speak about these things now. Noro, there is something wrong."
"What do you mean?! I was-"
"Listen closely. As a templar I have been deeply trained in psionics. Agreed, not as much as a High Templar, but enough to detect the differences between the psyche of a Protoss and the mind of a Zerg. Commander, there is a disturbance in the psionic field."
"A disturbance? What does that mean?"
"It is slight, yet very disturbing. It strikes at the very core of our security."
"So . . . ."
"Remora. Parasite."
"God no!"
Katel nodded solemnly. Noro simply starred, his eyes glazing over. Then he snapped back to life with a violent jerk.
"We have been compromised, so we must move immediately. Now. Fetch me a medic, Sharah," he barked at a frightened young girl not 20 feet away. Then he looked back at his companion.
"When can we expect apocalypse?"
"I am not certain when our date of death is. Perhaps never. For another thing is amiss."
"What now?!"
"There is, or rather was, a current flowing in the river of psi, an incidious, vicious stream, swallowing all that oppose it without mercy: The Overmind. Now, it is no longer there. Within my brain, there is a deafening silence," hissed Katel.
"Dead?" gasped Noro.
"I do not dare to believe it. Yet . . . ."
"Perhaps, the Zerg are defeated! Decimated! Crushed!"
"Yes, ground back into the dust from whence they came. But I doubt it. A parasite operation requires a deeper, intelligent psyche that can interpret the data it recieves. You see, I am faced with two conflicting sources of information. A paradox. It is killing me, Noro."
An awkward quiet descended upon the pair.
"Yet if I am wrong, if the Overmind lives, that I shall accept also. After all, What is a desolate death later to a noble death now?"
"I agree. Yet I should have forseen this. I am a fool, my friend, a complete idiot."
"We both are. Tragedy occurs when what you think will not happen does happen. We were fools indeed we could concieve all threats."
Minutes after that fateful interview, a beautiful young medic strolled into the Command Center. An hour after that, with a final screech of fury, a tiny remora embedded deep within the inner psyche of a Tank Pilot was vanquished for good. As the days slipped unnoticed by with Noro pacing feverently through is hut, thinking of all the innocent lives that depended on him, the final armour plates were placed on the Dropship Loknar-A, the craft that would rocket Katel and his tortured companion out in search of the one thing that could change all: a Protoss probe.
The companions stood atop the windswept upper platform of Starport-B, a thousand feet above the glittering white surface below. Noro clutched at his massive furry coat, made from the hide of a Ugladon, and looked down upon the cylindracal, multi-leveled lattice of the Port's contruction matrix.
"I can't believe it. We're leavin' them alone, to their fate."
"No, we are not. We are embarking to capture the one thing that can reverse our fortunes and save these, our people."
"You're right, I guess. But, man, it's tough. And I'm not even sure if we'll come back, or whether there will be anything more than a Zerg infestation to come home to."
"I have pondered on that too. But such thinking serves no use. We have a mission, and if we are to succeed our thoughts must be directed to that solely."
"Yepper, OK. Look, here comes the ship! Shit that looks nice coming up through the framework . . . ."
"Indeed," spoke Katel, peering down at the abyss far below.
"Here it comes!"
Sure enough, a massive, hulking craft, already battered slightly from a grazing hit with a particularly large girder, hissed down impressively in front of them, shining dully from its numerous ugly surfaces. The engines wheezed to a stop, and the main Hatch slid smoothly open.
"Well, we're off. Look, there's crowd . . . better give em what they're looking for," breezed Noro, waving widely, then stomping off into the simmering ship. Katel followed.
"First dropship made on Loknar . . . quite an event in itself."
"Yes, this is so. The next shall be put to flight tomorrow, and deliver a single SCV to the Space Platform, where an expansion shall be rapidly constructed."
"I know. Sounds good. So . . . you took care of all the arrangements?"
"Of course."
"Then we're ready to rock! Close the hatch, my brotha!"
Katel, with a pleased expression on his face, did so. The engines roared to life, sending tremors jolting through the shuddering craft.
"Engine one at 99, two at 96, three at 98, four at 99!"
"Sounds very good. I shall activate the anti-grav harness," proclaimed the Protoss.
"Righto. Lock deactivated. We're rising!"
"Anti-Gravity initiated."
"Engines at max! Here we go!!"
Outside, engines howling, lights flashing, anti-grav screaming, the dropship hurtled up wildly into the turbulent skies, and with a final flare of flaming fury was lost from sight. It would be a week exactly before the ugly ship plummeted back down onto the planet's frigid surface - but to what?
And as the warpoint flared brilliantly into existance, a lone Overlord watched them depart.
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