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| Part Three: Homeworld | | | Author: | | | IP: | pa-gbg-tXXXX | | Date: | 06/29/02 01:06 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 6, Min: 6
Lifetime Rating for TheyAre: 6.1111 |  | 3. Homeworld
The place he awoke was bitterly cold, and he was immersed in some thick liquid. The Protoss attempted to open his eyes, and realized he could already see—in all directions. This isn’t right, he thought. What is going on here? He tried to move, but nothing happened. He tried to speak, and nothing. Apparently all he could do was see, and think. Where am I? He was in some kind of medical facility, that was for certain; there were wounded Protoss, some not going to make it, others healing rapidly, in Stasis Cells all around him.
[Ah, you’re awake.]
He noticed one Templar, his armor hued the dark blue of the Sargas tribe, walking up to him. [I am Nirax,] the Templar said. [Dragoon Technician, Third Class. I fitted you with your… exoskeleton.]
Exo…skeleton?
Nirax laughed. [I imagine you have many things to say, Praetor.] He grabbed something below a medium-hued teal piece of metal in the Templar’s vision, and said, [can you feel that?]
How am I supposed to answer that? The Templar thought.
[Well, concentrate on it, and then speak as you normally would,] Nirax said. The Templar, sighing mentally, concentrated on the object Nirax was holding onto; he could feel it, in a detached, almost numb sort of way. “What… happened to me?”
Nirax beamed. [Very good, Praetor Fenix,] he said. [You can now communicate with the rest of us. As for moving around, well, you’ll get used to it soon enough, I expect.]
“Four legs? What has happened to me, Dragoon Technician?”
That came out a bit colder than Fenix wished it to, but he noticed that his “voice” was a little flat, more mechanical than he remembered it. [Well…] Nirax began nervously, [to put it mildly, Praetor… you were almost killed by the Zerg during their assault on Antioch. I’m sorry to say that the city has been overrun by the Zerg, and the Overmind has manifested itself on the ground where the great Temple at Antioch once stood.]
Fenix cursed, but realized he had said nothing ‘out loud.’ “And I now reside within the cold, hard shell of a Dragoon?”
[I’m afraid so,] Nirax said. [Things are not well outside these walls, Praetor. The Zerg rampage unchecked across much of our Homeworld, and the Conclave bickers about how to deal with the renegade Executor and his cohorts, Tassadar, the Dark Templar Zeratul, and a Terran called… James Raynor.]
“The situation does indeed seem bleak,” Fenix said. “You must teach me how to use this Dragoon exoskeleton immediately. The times are dark, much darker than they were when I was… whole, and the people need a light to shine, to give them hope. I was reluctant to be that light in the past, and now I see the folly of my ways.
Nirax smiled. [Well, then, Praetor,] he said, [shall we begin? To fire your Phase Disrupter Cannon, you must focus on…]
* * *
The Gantrithor glided effortlessly through space, making its way toward Aiur. It had made the journey from Char to the Aiur system in barely half an hour, thanks to the massive drives at the end of the vessel and sciences even Tassadar did not try to comprehend. Sciences that could hurl the vessel from one spot in the galaxy to the other in a matter of days, or cause the explosion of a star, or several other effects that the manual for the “reflex” engines did not tell you about.
Surrounding the Gantrithor were dozens of other Carriers, and hundreds of Scout fightercraft. An odd sight in the middle of the formation was the Terran Behemoth-class Battlecruiser Hyperion, under the command of Commander Raynor. Arbiters cloaked the entire fleet as it slid into orbit around the massive jungle planet.
On board the Protoss command ship, Tassadar conferred with Zeratul and James Raynor about how to reveal themselves to the Conclave. “We should go in with lasers blazing,” Raynor was saying. “If we show them we mean business, we can end this stupid feud between the Dark Templar and the rest of the Protoss people and get back on track, killing Zerg.”
[I agree with Commander Raynor,] Zeratul said. [The Conclave will never accept the Dark Templar as allies of the Khala. We should show them our power now, before they have a chance to destroy us.]
Tassadar sighed. [I am sorry, brethren,] he said, [but I cannot bring myself to attacking my own flesh and blood. Protoss have not slain Protoss, save for murder thanks to criminals, and even that is rare, for over one hundred thousand years. Well over one hundred thousand years. I cannot imagine it happening again.]
“Tassadar… humans have fought and killed humans since the beginning of our existence,” Raynor said. “There was a war over six hundred years ago humans called the Great War. Today people, whenever they are reminded that it occurred, call it World War I. The situation today is much like the one that enveloped Earth from 1914 to 1918.”
[The dates that you allude to occurred over one hundred fifty thousand years ago to my people, but the situation today… how can it be like any war that happened on your Earth?] Tassadar asked. [Intra-species warfare is nothing like battles between races so distinctly separate as ours, and the Zerg.]
“New war technologies had been developed, and generals used outdated techniques. This resulted in the deaths of over ten million human soldiers,” Raynor said. “Today we face a threat with no technology, but a biological hardiness that surpasses all but the best Protoss hardware,” he continued. “The Conclave is fighting wars the old way. Humanity fought wars the old way. We must develop a new fighting style, one that Zeratul and the Dark Templar endorse, if we hope to defeat the Swarm. In war, one tries to defeat the enemy’s moral just as hard as one tries to defeat his armies. The Zerg have no morale. They are nearly mindless beasts. We must annihilate them, Tassadar, if we hope to win this war… or take away their intelligence.”
[You mean kill the Overmind,] the Executor said.
“Yeah,” Raynor replied. “We already know that the Zerg Cerebrates cannot be reincarnated when they are killed by Dark Templar. Tassadar, you have undergone training all young Dark Templar undertake, much like Templar training. Don’t tell me that you can’t kill the Overmind, man.”
[I do not deny that if I could gather enough energy, I could kill the Overmind,] Tassadar said slowly, [but gathering enough energy would surely take me with the best. Very well. We will reveal ourselves.]
Almost immediately, the comm officer on the Gantrithor yelled, [communication from Aiur, Executor!]
[Very well,] the Executor said. [Patch it through.]
“Greetings, Executor! And greetings to you, Tassadar. I am overjoyed to see you both return home in this dark hour. The Zerg have redoubled their efforts, and it seems—“
Tassadar stood, his eyes widening in amazement. [Fenix? It can’t be! The Executor told me of how you fell before the Zerg. How is it that you live and breathe?]
“Ha hah…” Fenix chuckled. “Well, after my unfortunate defeat, my ruined body was recovered by our brethren. I now reside within the cold, hard shell of a Dragoon.”
[Old friend,] Tassadar said mournfully, the fire in his eyes muted, [would that this never come to pass…]
“Nonsense!” Fenix said, his tone upbeat. “There is no shame in defeat as long as the spirit remains unconquered, and I am still able to serve Aiur to a degree. But enough of this. There is much you both need to know. You have been branded as traitors by Aldaris and the Conclave. Even now they seek to arrest you and execute the Dark Templar, Zeratul.”
[I never believed they would go so far,] Tassadar said. [In the face of total annihilation they still cling to their failing traditions!]
“Yes, and that makes them all the more dangerous,” Fenix said soberly. “They hunt you even now, Tassadar. And though I damn myself by doing so, I shall stand by you, ‘till the end.”
[En Taro Adun, noble Fenix,] Tassadar said. [Executor, it seems that if our world is to live, we must protect the Dark Templar from our own brethren. Although it pains me greatly, not even the Conclave shall stand in our way.]
The Gantrithor’s engines flared and it descended toward Aiur. A new Aeon of Strife had begun.
* * *
The Conclave wasted no time in surrounding the base camp Tassadar and the others had set up, using the strength of the Ara and Auriga tribes to push back the forces of the Executor to the walls of the Temple complex they had taken refuge in. Tassadar, Zeratul, and a small group of Dark Templar and Zealots were caught unawares outside the base by a group of Ara Tribe Dragoons and Scouts, and soon faced off with Aldaris. [Executor, you and the traitor Tassadar are to cease your resistance and surrender yourself to the judgment of the Conclave. We will take the outlaw, Zeratul, into custody and deal with him as is written by the Khala’s law.]
[Flee back to your masters Aldaris, and huddle with them in darkness! For your actions will set us all unto the Zerg!] Tassadar yelled, his voice inflected with rage before he and the group turned and ran for the relative safety of the base camp.
“This is the life, isn’t it, Executor!” Fenix yelled as he and his landing forces struggled to hold off the tide of Ara Tribe Zealots and Dragoons from infiltrating the perimeter as Tassadar and the others retreated into the base. Zeratul and his Dark Templar were especially effective against the warriors of the Conclave; they would dart forward, slash and hack their way through several units, and then retreat before the enemy could call up Observers to spot them.
[No,] the Executor replied as he watched the battle from the pyramidal Nexus that sat on one end of the base. [This is horrible. We are killing our own brethren, our own flesh and blood. This should never have come to pass.]
“You may be right there, Executor,” Fenix said as a Dragoon collapsed under the power of his Disrupter Cannon, “ but there is undeniably something… pure about battle, the clashing of bone and sinew.”
[I fear we have grown too used to this senseless slaughter,] Tassadar said. [We have become… desensitized to this violence,] he said as a Zealot died before him, thanking him for ending his pain before a blow crushed his skill. [There has to be a better way.]
The forces of the Executor surged forward, scattering the Templar of the Conclave as they moved down into the massive valley beyond their encampment. [There is a large Ara Tribe base to the south, and our objective is within the confines of the Auriga Tribe’s enclave to the southeast,] the Executor said. [Destroy the Nexus inside the Auriga Tribe’s base, and we will have ripped the heart out of the Conclave.]
[It is not the heart we want,] Zeratul said, grinning fiercely as the broken bodies of his enemies lay all around him in a macabre pose. [It is the head. I look forward to the death of Aldaris and his masters, payment for all the hatred and desperation they have spawned among my people.]
[That is madness,] Tassadar said to himself, grief welling up in him. [Our brethren, lying maimed and dead on the battlefield? Is this the way to preserve Khas’ dream of all creatures, whether they be Protoss, Terran, or even the Zerg, living in harmony?]
[Of course it is not,] Zeratul said. [Your religion has been warped, my friend, warped by Protoss who think only of their own survival and empowerment. I may not follow all the dictates set out by Khas, but that does not mean I do not believe many of them are correct.]
The last enemy Dragoon fell, blue “blood” staining the rich earth as its legs collapsed, dumping its contents into the soil. [Madness,] Tassadar said softly. [How can any of us stand it?]
* * *
[Madness,] Aldaris said to himself. [What has happened to our race? What madness has gripped us so that we have forgotten the dictates of the Khala?]
The Judicator sighed, knowing he must stand resolute against the taint of the Dark Templar. But what had the Dark Ones done in their time with Tassadar? Fought the Zerg. Killed a Cerebrate, a Cerebrate that stayed dead. Now that they were on Aiur, what were they doing, other than defending themselves—
[Killing followers of your backward religion.]
[Get out of my mind,] Aldaris snarled. [Once we have dealt with the heretics, we shall come for you, abomination. The wraith of the Khala will smite you down, creature.]
[All your Masters have done is lead your people on a path to destruction. I find your faith most odd, Aldaris of the Judicator. Even in the face of assimilation you stand by your beliefs. Odd, yet interesting.]
[Get out of my head, beast!] Aldaris let out a sound of rage and grabbed his head. [We will show you our power! In the last moments of your pitiful existence you will know the wrath of Aiur!]
[And you will know mine,] the voice said. [You will feel differently… on the other side.] A vision of Aiur, her cities in flames, her lands ruled by the Zerg, filled Aldaris’ head. [Your world will become another Char, the seat of my master’s throne. A throne encompassing a galaxy.] The presence that filled Aldaris’ mind disappeared, but the scene of a devastated Aiur remained. Aldaris let out a choking sob and slammed a hand into the control panel in front of him. The Protoss could never win, he realized. Emotions are our weakness. The Swarm was unstoppable.
* * *
Fenix exulted at being in battle once more. The feeling of flesh and bone giving way under his power was… exhilarating, to say the least. A small part of him was sad, realizing all he’d ever been good at was war, and now that he was a Dragoon, all he’d ever be good at was war. But his feelings of regret were pushed away by the adrenaline coursing through his body. Nirax had never told him whether that adrenaline would be his own, or whether the chemical was being pumped in from storage tanks in the Dragoon’s exoskeleton, and the likely answer troubled Fenix—until the next enemy challenged him. And the flow of enemies challenging him seemed almost endless.
The Praetor blinked; or at least, he would have if he’d had the ability to do so. He was standing in the middle of the ruins of the Nexus that had been the day’s objective, randomly blasting pieces of wreckage with his Disrupter Cannon. What is happening to me, he thought wildly, staring helplessly at the warriors who watched him in shock. Fenix fled, to where he did not know, but as far away as he could get from that place of death as he could get, that was for certain.
How? How had he become this way? Fenix knew the answer, and it did not relieve him in the least. He had become a killing machine, without mercy or thought of what he doing when he needed to, because he wanted to. And that was most alarming of all.
* * *
[Follow him, Zeratul,] the Executor said. Things were most troubling; Tassadar had given himself up to the judgment of the Conclave, an act that would almost surely get him killed if he wasn’t rescued, and that nearly mindless rampage Fenix had gone on… Raynor called it a “berserker rage,” something apparently common among Terrans while on the battlefield. Tassadar’s capture, Fenix’ breakdown… the war was not going well. How long they could they hold out against the Swarm, much less defeat it, if they killed each other with such abandon?
[This civil war has begun,] the Executor said. [Let us hope that it ends more peacefully than it has awoken.]
* * *
Zeratul tracked Fenix for a kilometer through heavy jungle, before he found his friend resting in a small clearing, beside a small stream that ran through the undergrowth. [My friend,] he said, startling the Dragoon, [what troubles you? I sense you need to talk.]
“I do,” Fenix said, “though I am not sure that it is you I wish to speak to, Prelate. I do not… know if you would understand.”
[Try me,] Zeratul said. [You will find that if nothing else, I am a good listener, Praetor.]
Fenix chuckled. “That may be so,” he said. “But look at me. Hero of Aiur, Steward of the Templar… rebelling against my own people. They call me ‘noble.’ But I am not. All I am good at—all I have ever been or ever will be good at—is at the art of killing. Where is the honor, the nobility in that? There is none, Prelate.”
[Our task is noble, our actions more than honorable,] Zeratul protested. [Through our deeds, Aiur will be saved.]
“Do you really think so?” Fenix asked quietly. “Do all of you truly think that if we kill the Overmind, that the Zerg menace will be gone? You have seen its creature, Kerrigan. Will she suddenly disappear if we slay the abomination? Is the wanton slaughter of our own brethren the only way to save our race? We are too narrow-minded, Prelate. No matter how many tentacles we cut off the beast, more will arise. And if we manage to cut off the head… the body will not die. It will merely go on a mindless rampage, consuming all its in path. This destructive conflict may never end. Our actions, in the end, may not even matter.”
[I have only known you a short time, my friend, but you have always radiated a quiet strength, a force of will that binds our alliance together. Are you giving up now, when we are so close to victory?]
Fenix’ laughed bitterly. “Close to what victory? The victory of the Dark Templar over the Conclave, over the Khala? Your manipulation of my people for your own ends?”
Zeratul was taken aback. [You know that is not true, Praetor,] he said. [I would never manipulate my own brethren further the cause of the Dark Templar. This bitterness is not like you, my friend. There is something deeper that is troubling you.]
“You see well, Prelate,” Fenix said. “For the first time since I became a Templar, I enjoyed fighting today. I enjoyed watching my enemies fall, their blows weak and inconsequential against my might. They were not Zerg I was killing, Prelate. They were my own people. During the battle, I…” Fenix stopped. “I lost my psychic link with my people during the battle. When I awoke, the heart of the Conclave, the heart of my people, was gone, by my own hand—and I enjoyed it.” Silence filled the clearing. “Can’t you see? I’m no better than a mindless minion of the Overmind.”
[Fenix…] Zeratul was at a loss. He’d never been attuned to the primordial psychic link shared by all Protoss, save when he was a child. When he came of age, he ceremonially tore his nerve cords out at the roots, ensuring they would never have a chance to heal, to grow back. For Fenix, it must have been like a deprivation of all his senses, a feeling that he was no longer a Protoss at all.
[I am sorry, my friend,] Zeratul said at last. [All I can do, all I can say is that if we lose faith now, everything we’ve done up to this point won’t mater—and nothing we or anyone else does afterwards will either. Sometimes… fate chooses beings among us to the jobs that no one else will do, fates that tear us up inside. Unfortunately, I believe you and I, Tassadar and the Executor, Terrans like Captain Raynor—we have been so selected. We must play our roles, or the innocent will be doomed.]
“I concur,” Fenix said quietly. “Very well then, Prelate,” he continued. “This talk has done me some good, I believe. Let us return to the others, shall we? I believe they are waiting for us.”
[Yes, of course,] Zeratul said absent-mindedly. The talk with Fenix had caused him to raise more questions in his own mind than those he had answered, questions he wrestled with on the trip back to camp.
Bare hours later, Zeratul and his brethren disappeared, leaving the Protoss to fend for themselves. “These are truly dark days,” Fenix said to Raynor and the Executor when Zeratul’s disappearance was was discovered. “I have tried to be the light. So has Tassadar. We have both failed. We must all shine together, my friends, or I fear that our two races will never see that light again.”
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