The Dark Templar

Sequel to the "Dragoon" story.

by Maru Tamehana (First Draft, 26/04/2019)

(27/04/2019)

CHAPTER ONE

TEMPLAR

The Dark Templar was wounded by its encounter with the protoss. Others of its kind who did not know of its mission, or intended for it to fail, it was not certain which. They had caught it unexpectedly, and suddenly its desire to avoid bloodshed of its own kind was thwarted, as they met in a clash of metal and blade.

It clasped its wound, making its way through the trees. But it had found what it wanted.

A blood-red ruby was set into its gauntlet, shining with that power of distant stars. It was mysterkherim, a sacred device developed by his people, it was a clever use of psychic energies. Its powers were well understood, and the Nerazim had used it for well over a century.

But the artefact, sacred stone that he had recovered was called the Malis, perhaps to denote its uncertain origin, from what he could determine from the annals and archives he had collected in his long sojourn on his own vessel. A sacred jewel, rumoured to have great and strange powers. It made him feel strangely complete in a way he had not been for centuries.

A race of nomads, they often had to seek out knowledge for themselves. And so it was not unheard of for them to be known as Seekers – perhaps those who tended most closely to their origins as nomads, preferring it to creating a settlement and a civilisation for the Exiled on Shakuras.

However, it was a place to return to and share their wisdom, and so they all had developed some measure of pale fondness for the shadowy world – so poetically did it echo their exile, and shelter them when there was none. They made of this new wilderness what they would.

But what truly drew them, was the discovery of the ancient Xel'Naga temple. That had made this world worthy of their attention and bringing them together there. But there were many already to study the temple, and so there was still much of the universe to bridge with their vessels.

But the world was remote and hidden, and was distant and safe from the prying eyes of Aiur, in case they were tempted to re-enact some policing of their wayward cousins.

With these two stones, the dark Templar's power had grown a thousand-fold, but it was the Malis, that was the incomparable key. Not like the Uraj and the Khalis which served as powerful keys for the Xel'Naga temple spoken of – but something different.

He did not know if perhaps it was key to another temple or sacred place the Xel'Naga had created – but he did know it was key to something else. Hidden power. It was not of the light, and not wholly of the dark – but something mysterious.

He had collected many artifacts in his journey, and although he was but a novice when compared to the dark prelate Zeratul – he had amassed sufficient wisdom to be of note.

Unlike Zeratul, he had cared little for the Matriarch. Perhaps she would have granted him audience, but he had little need of her patronising hospitality. However, he did not begrudge her the devotion she inspired in those she led. She had been instrumental in a great defense of their kind for a long time – standing against powers they had never expected or encountered, although much of this time was now simply a matter of legend. And she had gathered the protoss together in a unity that had sustained and comforted them in a time of great severing. They were proud, but she had given them a more detailed sense of future. Nerazim were marked by a humility belied by their great powers.

Even he remembered, as if from youth – and it had left an impression upon him. But now he was Templar of his own right, a youth no longer, and he became his own master.

He had paused in the small colony, where he had been forced into an ambush. However, they hadn't expected the depths of his mastery over the dark energies – and he was able to turn one against the others in confusion with the Malis. The mysterkherim could affect some small neural energies, but not nearly sufficient to this sort of task.

It was distasteful, it was ridding a protoss of his free will, and placing a layer of confusion on his mind, to make it compliant to bidding. It only lasted for a moment – but it was sufficient for the battle. No doubt the Khalai would be sending more. The power of the artefact he wielded could not have escaped their eyes.

They feared the dark archons who had matched and upset the might of Khalai on the battlefield, cutting a storm even across their mightiest archons of the light – the few beings capable of standing against their might. But they did not know that even the dark Templar, some such as he, could wield such powers with efficacy as well. Perhaps he had not the consuming nature and power of one of the dark Archons, but properly utilised, his manipulation of dark energies was satisfactory to grant him access to forbidden things. Ever the lure for the Nerazim.

With the Malis, he had accessed ancient energies and thwarted their probes and weapons, and created a psionic ripple that had dismayed his attackers, and allowed him time to use their teleportation system. He found a remote beacon, where several things of the Khalai had been hidden, and made use of the supplies. For the moment, he had touched the khaydarin pylon which guarded the place, feeling its power and warmth, and then he had left the caves and re-entered the world. He must reacquire transportation and leave this world – he was too vulnerable on foot.

Staying too near the pylon with the Malis for too long would have undoubtedly disturbed it, and narrowed their focus despite his efforts to cover his path.

He had indeed confused the path of the one that hunted him. Unfortunately, it may have made it more vulnerable, thus leading to its downfall. Which filled the dark Templar with some regret, but it had been necessary to thwart the path of one so persistent.

There had only been one guard to stand in his way.

"It was not blood-shed I wanted," he told the dying protoss. It was a great sadness. Although the dark Templar was not one with the Khala, it could sense that ripple of energy around its tendrils as the creature died. Not easy to kill one of the protoss, even for one such as he. But he, like most of his dark kind, was well practised in the arts of an assassin.

It stared at its captured treasure, reflecting back the light, its depths swirled with some resounding power that had been undiscovered until now.

With it, it created a storm, like one of the great Templar of Aiur, summoned from some other region. He had not felt power like this for a hundred years, if not five hundred. But there was... something... in the jewel, he felt, and suspected it had been hidden for a reason.

But it was a key – there were a few, scattered jewels among the stars, and they must be recovered, if the Xel'Naga were to be found.

It applied its mind to their great mysteries, beyond most mortal ken, but these were the things to which the protoss tended their thoughts, reaching once again for knowledge from the gods. But this time, they were older, wiser, and hopefully, greater.

It had covered its escape at least.

The protoss hunters lost its pursuit, even their powerful high Templar would not be able to follow it through the medley of storms, so much like their own power, wielded by one who had sacrificed it long ago.

In the stillness of the dark, the Nerazim would study its treasure amongst the stars, wondering at where it had been, and where it's paths were leading, and how it might steer them, or make something of them his own. Like a recalcitrant beast, unknown technology was, and he could spend much time tinkering with its secrets. Unfound by his pursuers, he would have relentless time in which to manage a pursuit of his own. His claws clicked on its surface, as he wondered at the patterns of sound. There was no telling where a secret might be cunningly hid, amongst the vari-fold places of the universe.

Within the crystalis, it could perceive patterns, shifting and moving with a light of their own – and it seemed it could see faint connections that it made, but yet still eluded a complete understanding. If it was a thing of the Xel'Naga, it was strange, more like it was the work of an unknown but strange tribe, even as long ago as the Strife, perhaps even when the Xel'Naga walked among them and had students of their own. Perhaps this was one of the products of that time. Maybe the device itself, suspecting a kind of intelligence within it, could tell him.

His ship ventured little opinion on it, operating finely even with its presence, emanating what power it had. It was like the things of the dark Templar, but infinitely older and more grand.

With the Malis crystal, he took command of the dragoon. But he was troubled. It seemed he had indeed stumbled across the power of the gods. Such things were not out of countenance for the protoss – indeed, the very world of the Dark Templar, Shakuras, was a resplendent architectural shrine to the Xel'naga. But this was something different. No mere riddle of ancient secrets – this exerted an unwieldy and dangerous force. But they were forces like the ones the Dark Templar had been experimenting with and taming over the course of centuries.

He turned suddenly – he was found! One of the robots of Aiur, apparently serving the templar command here, was watching him from the surface of one of the rocks, half-buried in swamp. So caught up in its own intelligence, it had not spied it until now.

He made a sound in his throat. I must have grown careless… he reproved himself.

(*)

It led the small Aiur robot precede it into the mines, its red laser playing out before it as it scuttled in – and the dark Templar followed after it.

That's where he had discovered it.

In the mine, surrounded by the glow of the khaydarin, it found its fallen comrade, and what it searched for. The previous seeker to search for the forbidden artefact.

(*)

The Nerazim had sent one of their Death Spheres, hovering silently, glistening, eerily, in the twilight, observing them. At any moment it might strike him down, but it did not. He believed the Nerazim Council had sent it merely to observe him – and so it seemed he had unfriendly eyes on both sides. Perhaps it waited to retrieve him at some time in some fashion.

He thought that perhaps it teleported its victims to within, keeping them in a stasis or state of sleep – but he didn't know, he couldn't swear to it. Whatever the case, their victims were never seen again.

Barbaric and ancient device. It was rumoured they were originally employed by the Conclave, but they belonged to a darker period in Dark Templar history, when there were certain fears among them. Entirely different from their period of knowledgeable growth.

Then he wondered – perhaps it was there to assist him after all. Those spheres had the capability of crossing worlds – perhaps they intended for him to use it after acquiring his final objective. He felt a strange feeling of trust flood through him, as this suggested itself, and it was much more meet with his mind. Certainly he didn't like to imagine his brothers, even the elders, as cruel.

But as he had a ship, he had no need for it.

"Hold, Nerazim," one of the warriors said. His mind was as implacable as his features. There was no fear, indeed he seemed to regard the dark Templar with a measure of respect – but it seemed the protoss stood ready to withstand him.

And the Nerazim soon saw why. The dark Templar tried not to betray this as they were revealed, but the High Templar had hidden themselves from his sight with a masterful illusion. Hundreds of years, and he had almost underestimated them. It had been too long since he had associated with those of Aiur, and perhaps he had been lulled into thinking that the Nerazim had out-stripped them far too greatly to be taken by surprise.

The High Templar surrounded him – their visages grave as they confronted this cold murderer for his desecration. The wielded the phenomenal power of the protoss race, to confront one was to confront the protoss, and to confront them together... the dark Templar did not think its arts would serve it well now. He had been anticipated.

The gathering psionic might could obliterate it before it could escape...

I don't have time for this... and its features settled down into a scowl.

(*)

It reached for the pendant – there was but one chance... He snarled an epithet at the assembled Templar.

"How many of you even remember Aiur?" the Templar accused him with a commanding voice, and despite himself, he paused.

"Protoss have long memories." He replied. And disappeared.

(*)

CHAPTER TWO

HUNTER QUEEN

The great spider-like thing scuttled through the hull with a scraping sound, as if it had little care for the sacredness of the vessel it offended with its presence. It swilled its head and rotated its eyes, searching with evil haste for its prey. It has already webbed its strange, vile biological matter in several of the lower levels, and now it had struck out for living bodies – the rent where it had entered, was slightly puckered with air-flow into outer space.

But the protoss were not easily made vulnerable, and stood within the vacuum with little more discomfort than the atmosphere of their favoured worlds. The cold arctic or the burning desert were equally home to them, and so it was with the cold vacuum of space. To be nearer the stars in their ships was no mean thing.

"They follow us to Aiur, and now even to our very ships! Come, brothers, to battle!"

The queen was intelligent, and had followed them. After destroying the terrans, the thing on its microscopic nests that formed its mind, was the protoss.

It remembered, with its enhanced genetic faculties, its original origin place, on Char, where Kerrigan had stripped and rewoven... her... fabrics... her... her ancestral genetic form... and put them back together, with enhanced intelligence, enhanced aggression.

She herself had seen to the mutation of her larval trains to be of more use aginst the scurrying warm terran bodies that milled before them.

Genetic and self memory wove into one, making her the perfect killer.

DNA from slain host were broken down and harvested into the gene pool from which memories were physically taken. But the overlords also, felt it when one of their died, and shuddered, passing a message along the hive-mind link.

The Swarm knew all.

Larvae squirmed, and the protoss wrestled with the little things, surprisingly strong, their musculature super-densely structure to aid their whipping, digging tail as they thrashed about – but again, no mere human grip pinned these things – not even the steel grip of their automatons – but the living strength of a protoss that stood for his race.

They found them as they scurried through the ship and destroyed them. It was with satisfaction that they crushed the spines, lungs and ribs of the creatures.

Their service droids quickly used vortex lances to dispatch the remains into tiny fragments of energy that were then sucked away by the energy transistors of the ship and into the recycling chamber. Nothing biological remained by that point, but the ship disposed of its waste, and instinctually the controllers could study the forgotten foes. It was known that these zerg carried an energy with them, beyond in some dark unknowable unidentified recess of space-time folds, and so, even dead, they would not go unmonitored.

If some vast creature out there awaited their return, in some dark khala of the Zerg, it would be frustrated now, unless it wanted their essence in vain particle by particle of protoss exhaust.

The protoss knew how to dispose of such things. but these Zerg were, with their warriors, a biologically threat, and not to the protoss invincible sanctity.

That would only come with defilement, and their sentinels were vigilant now. The true threat of the Zerg was in their in-escapable hive-minded determination – in a dark way, selfless and bodiless, without love of their own forms in any shape. They were abominable in this way, in that they loved consuming more than self-preservation. They cared not for what they were, save that they were, and would become more.

The Overmind had filled them with an unbreakable will to assimilate and evolve, and they would destroy their very souls, if they had any, to achieve it. They would break themselves on the protoss walls until the walls caved in.

It was a dark parody of selflessness, and not the great and grand way of the protoss, of light.

(*)

CHAPTER THREE

NERATHAS

Far away, the Nerazim known as Nerathas piloted his ship through space, seeking yet another place – pondering thoughts of this nature.

Tassadar, it was thought, broke their spirits. But one had risen to fill that void, the vile creature calling herself the Queen of Blades – Kerrigan. Once a human, she had succumbed to the overpowering will of the Overmind, and gave over herself to the Zerg. And now, she was one of them, and their new leader.

The Cerebrates scattered, dying or lost – many slain at Kerrigan's own wilful hand... and the machinations of the UED undone – she remained the only uncontested power and throne with the Zerg. Her cunning, intelligence and even madness was what determined their rampage across the universe now, and she was not simple to predict.

It was thought that the Overmind had succeeded in whatever dark design it held for their beloved Aiur – but now it was largely a mystery what the Zerg drove towards. Still toward their goal of becoming the perfect beings... or something else?

What did Kerrigan fulfil in them? He did not think they would stop at anything less than complete and utter destruction of everything that stood between them and this goal... so... the frightening thought was... did they succeed? Was this path of damnation culminated in the ascension of Kerrigan?

All these questions and more tumbled through his mind as he pierced the electric veil of the void that stood between worlds...

His Ship uttered low levels of discomfort at this new energy of space around it. Not like when he had encountered that Arbiter ten thousand light-years and a century into deep space. His long voyage interrupted by the great and inescapable light of watchful Aiur... a lost Aiur now...

The thoughts were maudlin and turned him from his tasks he needed to heed now.

There were many darknesses in the cosmos – and this was the greatest among them.

And it was in the shadows that the Dark Templar, above all, made their home.

He had thought perhaps the Templar would destroy the Death Sphere, and perhaps rid him of potential anxiety, but he had noted its close passage as it had located him again and accompanied his Ship. However, he had intuited its purpose to be more benign than that deathly spectral mask and legend would imply.

He suspected it was one of the ancient weapons of the Xel'Naga, if they had such a thing. It would be fascinating to study, if it didn't develop in him a healthy respect for its power.

(*)

The Ship was as cold as the void that wrapped his heart. Inos. His ship.

Many had not known how the dark Templar, shadow hunters, made their way across the stars. And this was one such.

The warp Gate had proven just as much folly as service, providing passage to allies and enemies alike. But no price was too great to rescue even what remained of Aiur. The protoss endured as always, and their existence would be fear to their enemies. A fact that would slowly, but eventually, be impressing itself upon the Zerg.

So drunken on the success of their rampage, perhaps the protoss could take advantage of their blindness.

He returned to the colony he had prepared. A private fortress he had created to be his retreat as he chased a myth across the cosmos.

The essence slowly filtered out of the crystal, slowly bringing power and life to the long-deactivated machines. A single source that powered them all. These Immortals were 3000 years old at least. But they functioned as easily as the day they were created. Most importantly, they existed from a time before the Schism, and before the Exile. If he was fortunate, they would recognise him as a master.

He should not underestimate the craftsmen of times past – but still it was possible that there lay some fortune for him.

What would these ancient machines make of the Zerg menace? He had no doubt they would perform to the specification of Aiur like always. He had created a small, powerful army here by his own hand – reawakened by his well gathered and curated power.

They seemed to respond instinctively to the Malis, which he found interesting. Certainly he had been wise to seek out the older colonies. It may be that they hailed from the same respective era – or perhaps something in their deep computer intelligence lay the knowledge or memories that recognised its nature.

Nerathas would have to explore the theory later, curious as he was. For one thing, he did not wish to accidentally trigger some sort of hostile attempt without proper preparation, peering into the mental matrix of these robots. For now, they would serve, and it would have what it needed for its research.

Strange that it should labour on Aiur's behalf when they hunted him. He wondered if he had grown too accustomed to being the prey that these were still the circumstances, even when a greater threat had gathered to unite them.

And yet there was more to do.

(*)

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SWAMP COLONY

The Nerazim set his ship down. He had seen something of interest on the observation sensors.

Exploring the swamp, he came across one of the structures of the humans. A compound of sorts, leading to a larger facility. He ordered the probe in to explore the terran facility.

(*)

Some time later, the Nerazim himself followed.

The dark Templar ducked and rolled inside the half-exposed terran vehicle where a hole was rent open. Several human soldiers were inside, but it took a mere few seconds and they were dispatched, smoke dissipating into the void.

It examined one of their weapons for a moment, noting the gleam in the half-light, and then discarded it, tossing it aside.

It could reach their command centre from here. The humans didn't even notice as it passed, their minds confused.

(*)

High Templar Karathas. Locked in human prison. He sat upon one of their strange objects, a bed of sorts, and pondered his large, rather scarred hands, clicking his claws back and forth.

They had kept him sedated and contained with their cybernetic devices.

"Even an individual protoss is dangerous," the human General had told his security marines. The protoss remembered it well. And it had watched with interest as the Nerazim approached, even with his psychic powers at their minimum, it had skill where power fell short.

"He... it... what does it matter?" the security guard had said, after an argument, and took a drag from his cigarette, wishing it was one of the nithol ones.

(*)

He entered the human Command Center, and made his way to the top. He paused to study the primitive devices, several of the panels were behaving systematically, blinking like the lens of an iris.

He made use of the technology how he could, and swiftly the human instrumentation relayed an interesting system of information.

"Quite cunning," he commented to his artificial companion. He had brought it here from the moon-world of Rimbor. It had been serving him quite well and faithfully. So long as he didn't create any conflict with Aiur, he believed it would continue to be of use where his own knowledge failed. The things of Aiur, as all within the Khala, recognised its own. The pain of separation was great sometimes – like a knife. But he would make do of it what he would. The pain of losing his will to the collective domination of the Khalai would be worse. Little better than the Zerg, rampaging at will across their worlds.

(*)

The dark Templar freed him, after they had reached a bargain – for he was no friend of the Khalai either, according to his words. He had been captured while senseless by these humans, and had not yet found a way to free himself.

"I am a refugee from Aiur."

"Hmm, convenient. But very well, you shall come with me."

There were several human men held in the prison cells, but by this he had determined not to free them. Not for him to decide the human justices. Many of his brethren did not care for such things, but he was loath to interfere even in these matters. Using his powers to read their minds, he ascertained they were considered dangerous among their own kind, even to the children.

"Ho." Came the voice – and Nerathas had turned to see the Templar had found him once again. So swiftly!

He fired his phase pistol (a small but effective device he had reverse-engineered from one of his discoveries and dark Templar technology) and slowed their temporal movement to almost still - giving him the time he needed to access the primitive human device – freeing the imprisoned Templar, and then he joined battle – feeling better able versus the odds within these confines.

There was a disturbance as the humans noticed the incursion, and began to mount a defense. Difficult, Nerathas had time to think as he acted.

The warp blades wielded by his kind seem to react strangely against those psi shields – the shields seemed to flickered and weaken before them. If the warp blades didn't vvorp right through them.

The zealots seemed hard pressed to hold back a single swipe with their shields, they attempted to simply keep their distance from that powerful blade and look for an opening. There were few things that zealots feared to close with – but the powerful weapon the dark Templar had developed was sufficient.

The blade would cut a rift through space-time, the very fabric of reality.

It radiated khlyrons, which were enemic to particles of this universe.

In the dark they seemed pressingly huge, and all blades as they whirled them around in the shadows – blades turned into a cacophony, a swirling storm the equal of the rocket attack which exploded into harmless smoke against their defense.

They moved so quickly it was unbelievable, frightening. Like lightning they achieved their objectives as the marines were still arranging into place.

It was a brutal melee- and Nerathas crashed out of the window, having no time to wield his power, or not wanting to pause in the sight of those High Templar – and made it into the open. Quickly he had to flee.

The High Templar he had rescued had quickly followed.

The Templar used his powers and in fact was of great assistance, covering their escape with an illusion so convincing, that even the Nerazim was momentarily confused by it – although he would have been embarrassed to admit it. Far be it for his kind to fall short of the stilted and stunted pawns of the Khalai.

Although, he was apparently a maverick, maybe he had more in common than the long years had encouraged Nerathas to think.

(*)

They had paused. The dark Templar took a moment to glance back into the canyon, something there stirred. "There is a human tracking us..."

"A human?"

"Yes. He is proving quite... tenacious."

(*)

The human caught up with them some time later, catching them in a gulf between shattered plate plateaus – he caught them in ambush from above.

A stone touched a stone, and fell – and he knew he was not alone.

Searching the area with his bright gaze, tendons of power lashing out in a moment, he recognised the familiar essence of a human – it had followed him, and was even now intending to ambush him. In fact the ambush had already begun.

For a moment, it forgot it was dark Templar, the power of yesteryear flowing into it in an instant before it recognised that the source was not of its own, of the familiar, but something new. The rock beneath the human's feet exploded, and it – clad like a metal insect, fell with a heavy slam into the earth.

Not particularly agile, these costumed armoured the terrans employed. Perhaps impressive enough for their kind. Nerathas had not gone clad in a power suit for over a hundred years, he could almost feel familiar with this creature. So recently had the terrans come into their technology.

They were a curiosity to the protoss – it could speak that much for all of them.

The Templar were surprised and confused, wondering what kind of assault he intended to attempt. Both of them had sufficient power to destroy him and a hundred more.

The dark Templar finally had the human warrior on his back in the depths of the swamp. Under the water, in his thin metal suit, he would not drown, but he would be easily incapacitated.

He crushed in the face-plate with a rock. Perhaps the human would drown after all, he wondered.

The dark one paused to look at and study the human. He had never taken much time to study them before. Lower biological life-form, with rudimentary senses and skills, but a generally intelligent cunning. They had built a society, and that was noteworthy. It put them a step above the Zerg at least, who consumed and destroyed.

He feared they were a spark that would soon be extinguished by the more powerful race. But they had survived thus far, so Nerathas bore some small sense of hope for them. Perhaps the protoss would discover a way before then.

Many of Aiur's greatest weapons had become unavailable, and the fleets were still being gathered, following the great defeat of Aiur, scattered all over the cosmos.

And the two Templar, disparate and together, left the swamp behind. They were looking for a ship, the Dark Templar had brought his and hidden it on this world, and it would not be too difficult to find.

(*)

And again, later, while they still journeyed, the terran returned. "It seems the human survived after all," the protoss commented, seeing the shadow.

"Truly, we must have offended it somehow."

The marine fired the gun at him, but instead of a weapon it was a flare, and it lit the protoss Templar up, to its surprise. It exploded a radiant burst off its shield. It wasn't harmful, but it wasn't really intended to be. It looked up, just in time to confirm its suspicions, as several missiles streaked down from orbit. The human had brought larger weapons after all.

Their shields flickered as the High Templar escaped them from the bombardment just in time, phasing them through an accelerated dimension for just a moment. They reappeared some distance away, appeared out of the rippling teleportation energy. A dropship appeared, swooping in, accompanied by two of the terran flying vehicles, spinning blades and banks of primitive explosive munitions. Primitive but effective.

They saturated the area.

They were foolish to approach so closely. The High Templar Karathas could destroy them all and there would be no escape. But because of this, he chose not to.

But if they were persistent in the pursuit, they would have to be disabled. Destroying the two fighting vehicles without harming the occupants would be difficult, but it was possible.

Leaving only the unarmed dropship to take them back to their masters.

(*)

Marcus dragged himself off the floor, gritting teeth through blood. His face felt scraped raw.

That misty, shadowy figure, the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness. He would find him. What was one soldier's life? It had slain two dozen of his fellow marines on its unknown mission. He was going to find out how to put a stop to it. His gears whining, he strained, and made it to the top. The bones in his hands felt cold and especially prone and vulnerable. No heat of battle, he was fighting through the coldness and unknown.

Recalling the dropship on remote, he boarded it using the maintenance access, climbing on its side, as it automatically began its climb.

The terran froze in shock as something thumped near him, where he clung to the hull. It had thrown a spear at him! The protoss was still below watching him – its harpoon had only missed by a hand-space. The human felt something giddy like laughter pass through him, as he used it to steady himself for a moment and clamber inside – it had actually helped him.

That throw was unbelievable – and I thought I was safe. Just as well it missed.

And with no more thoughts of this nature, he made it into the pilot cabin, feeling shaky – deciding that the best option was just to get into orbit as quickly as possible. The animals in their cages made various sounds from the back as he did so, disturbed by the haste, it seemed. Space bred animals, they were sensitive to shifts of this sort.

The protoss watched him leave. It had fashioned a make-shift spear from the needle-spire that protruded from the wreckage. Protoss had little need for such primitive implements, but circumstances forced one to odd alternatives. Although he supposed it was no stranger to the Nerazim.

(*)

Upon the way, Nerathas' mission had been revealed, and the high Templar listened to his tale with wary respect.

"Your kind would thank me for this recovery, if they did not hound me through the shadows. It is with devices such as this that our two halves have been made whole in the distant past, before we of the Dark Templar even existed. It might have served such a purpose now, wayward at our purposes."

"The Xel'Naga are the only beings that might have given us a way to unite. Even now, across the gulf, it is possible."

"I have a Carrier, I can guide you to it," the rescued Templar told him – it had been his only response.

(*)

A hundred and fifty light-years away – the Dragoon was reborn – his spirit recovered by the cybernetic tribunal on the same world it had perished. Its remains had been transported to the flagship carrier that orbited above – making war upon the Zerg that had arrived, fighting the terrans only when necessary.

Its thoughts were of the Dark Templar it had hunted through the jungles.

(*)

CHAPTER FIVE

CARRIER

The Carrier itself was alive. It made the Dark Templar uneasy. But it would be useful against the Zerg enemy. It would see things even he could not. They trusted only the greatest of protoss with these charges, so many lives to command. The high Templar put his power into the khaydarin core crystal, relighting the heart of the ship, and restoring its systems. The hull shuddered.

"There must still be automated defences active on this ship," the Templar Karathas said, perplexed. Perhaps they could make use of them. Nerathas, the Nerazim, agreed. The high Templar spoke of an enemy it had been sent by the Conclave to destroy – prior to their own demise, but their order was still in force. It had lost its entire crew to the battle.

The dark Templar stayed there for a time, watching. "I and my brothers have watched Aiur – we know of the enemy you speak."

Even the recovery of a single Carrier would be of enormous benefit to his people, the Nerazim warrior mused. But I might have some use for it myself, if I am able.

There was a sound outside the hull, and they exchanged a glance.

"It seems our enemies have found us."

The two Templar, each from their opposite natures and sides, aspects of light in positive and negative – assisted each other. It, the Nerazim, carried the power cell, perhaps it would restore power to one of the interceptors. Shriven from Aiur, it had to do much manual work on its own – they had to do much without the richness of Aiur's civilisation, but they had learned how to dwell without such light. Not all were capable of bearing the burden. But it had yielded some cold fruits, frosted reaping.

Automatically, the interceptor took power and took flight, and with sudden uncanny speed and precision and power it zipped outside the craft, blazing a trail of blue bolts along the enemy infestation.

It was seeking out and destroying the hostile signatures.

(*)

The High Templar had explained his plan to destroy the Cerebrate that held the colony – the dark Templar raised objection to his strategy on one point. "I do not plan to survive the passing of so much energy." The High Templar told him.

And yet it seems my presence would facilitate another option. He had replied, knowing it was true. To slay a Cerebrate was no easy task – but possible for his kind.

Soon, the Carrier had lifted off, and departed into warp space, to gain some distance from pursuit, while they pondered what to do. The Nerazim intended to steer it to the colony he had restored, but held his patience, wondering yet if he should lead this Templar there. He did not know him well enough yet.

First, they made sure to recover the Nerazim's seeker ship – it alone held the co-ordinates he required.

(*)

Some time during the journey, they had learned a little more about each other. The High Templar granted him a vision with his mind's eye, using his power to create something from the memories. More than illusion, it was a shard of reality from his own being, resonating with what the Nerazim knew to be true. That much, it did not scorn. The search for knowledge was the search for truth.

Aiur. "This is our world now..." the Templar said, staring out at the flowing plains of Zerg, wind ruffling his cape.

The dark Templar had his own memories, although he would not say where they came from.

The arbiters in their great ships, commanding energy in those hulls at their personal disposal to exact their potent judgements. They had much authority, and much of the Khala was passed through those energy circuits. He had heard the tales of these mysterious judges himself. And it seemed that not all had perished with Aiur, although their love had drove many to direct their bodies to its final defense.

He still remembered the light, had seen it in his mind's eye, as the Zerg were temporarily halted in a mighty work, a bastion that seized the enemy in a stasis field of time as far as the eye could see, not unlike the psionic storms of long ago that had ravaged Aiur by untrained Templar. Many Zerg perished in a temporal lapse that aged them until death, for whichever reasons proved the enemy of their biology. But it could not last forever, the enemy eventually sent their numbers to strike down the craftsmen of their destruction.

The Cerebrates were immortal. This they had known. Many of them were older even than the new civilisation of Khalai Aiur. And the protoss had thought they were long-lived.

(*)

The dark Templar piloted the ship, great and unfamiliar though its systems were, they flooded his mind, a thousand thousand corridors of light all opening up at once.

The ship did not know him, but did not question his command under these circumstances, when they had communicated it so clearly. Karathas could add his own voice, but required as he was to provide power and maintain the systems, he could not also pilot. He wondered what sentries might still exist in this ship.

"I have a colony that I have prepared. I intended to take one of your ships and seek out the remote locations of the enemy. It seems I shall serve two purposes today."

A colony from which I sent a signal to a fleet that was lost. It is time for the fleets to return home.

And on the worlds left behind, the eyes of many of their enemies had noticed their departure.

The dark Templar had escaped.

THE END