Disclaimer: I do not own Starcraft or its affiliates.
Public
Day 28th, 501st Cycle
"This is an outrage! We must not give in to this new pressure from the Firstborn; any act of such will only show weakness!"
"No, we must take this threat seriously and act cautiously now! Our Templar numbers are not numerous or ready enough to confront the Firstborn in open combat now!"
Zane's office was a source of heated debate as the gathered Templar Masters split into two groups in regards to yesterday's incident. The Dark Templar had immediately summoned the highest among the Protoss Order for a special discussion to deal with this sudden aggression. Needless to say, after the news was broken, two different groups had formed in regards to what needed to be done.
Sitting at his desk was Zane, hearing both sides throw insults and retorts back and forth in front of him. Xiao and Luna stood at this side, unsure if they should break up this divide or let it continue for the sake of allowing free speech. This was a very troubling separation of ideas that may fracture the Protoss Order in half.
"If we are to give in to this threat, then we are no better than others that have risen against the Firstborn! We will be crushed like insects if we do not show that we will not be cowed! The people shall stand with us!"
"By showing restraint and control over our actions to respect the Firstborn, they then will be forced to show respect to us! When the elite of Ark sees us as a truly peaceful and respectable institution, then they will flock to us! The nobles shall stand with us!"
"But what if we were to do both?" Zane quietly asked, his voice severing the shouting in the room like a psi-blade through flesh. "I propose that we continue operations, but make them quieter and more discreet. We have enough recruitment facilities as it stands now, and they are bastions against the Firstborn. Expansion will continue, but it will be silent as opposed to how open we once were about them."
"Then, brother, how do you propose to counter this smaller expansion?" High Templar Xiao pointed out. "If we are to expand quietly, we will still draw attention if nothing else is focused on us. We need a public face if the population is to ignore these incursions."
"It shall happen then." The Dark Templar nodded, then stood up from his chair. It was almost comical as he was very much shorter than majority of the Templar in the room on account of his age, but the authority and command he wielded was unmatched. "High Templar Xiao! Prepare the Protoss Order to become a public political party! We shall, to begin official relations, invite the Firstborn to a debate of ideas!"
This generated a storm of whispers and shocked murmuring among the Templars. Dark Templar Zane debating with the leader of the Firsborns?! That was asking for an assassination target painted on him! But of course, with his skill, it could work out fine…
"High Templar Luna! I entrust you the sole responsibility of continuing our expansions. Continue raiding, but make it discreet if possible and only do so when we have taken public stage so that the attention is on us."
"It shall be done, master." The maid curtsied, then nodded to Xiao. "If you will, I shall borrow Angel for these missions. I believe that smaller but more elite raids shall suffice for the purpose."
"She needs the experience anyway. I'll let her know that she should be expecting to be called upon more often,' He agreed.
"If that is what we will do, then this discussion is over. I will later release a report detailing how we shall be separated on these fronts, and who will work on them. For now, take time to spread the word," Zane ordered. The remaining Templar slowly trickled out of his office, many still taken back by his rather sudden declaration of going public. But he knew best for their order.
Once the Masters have left, Zane let out a sigh and slumped back into his chair. "Xiao, let's get this going then. Send out a notice that we wish to partake in a public debate with the Firstborn."
"Shall I send it to the news companies as well?"
"Yes, please do so. We must spread our word quickly so as to be recognized for legitimacy."
"Of course then. But there is another issue I wish to bring up as well regarding raids, though I am not part of them anymore."
"What is it/"
"Communication. One of our critical flaws exposed last time was our lack of reliable and fast messaging. Most of our casualties in the raid team were unaware about the Rippers until it was too late."
"Rippers?" Asked Zane confusedly.
"A nickname we have given to the Firstborn attackers on account of how bloody they were in massacring us," Xiao explained. "My fault really, I referred to them as such and people liked it."
"It will do. In any event, we will then have to look into a better communication method. Luna, please start exploring possible avenues for increasing our Templar's combat potential."
"But of course master," The masked lady replied, nodding in agreement. "How much authority do I have to explore possible new gear?"
"Assume unlimited, but report to me first."
"Very well then. If you will excuse me then, I have operations to plan."
"As do I, brother. I shall inform you when the declarations have been sent out."
O O O
Angel was busy cleaning her gauntlets again. But rather than the slow methodical and delicate method usually performed, her hands were shaking as they hastily swiped the cloth back and forth on the equipment. Eventually, she gave up and tossed the gear on the table before placing her head on her arms against the table.
"My friend, I see that you are troubled." Leon appeared at her side and glanced at the discarded weapons in front of the white haired girl. It was very easy to figure out her problem; news about the Rippers had already done rounds among the Templars. "Is it because of your first real combat experience?"
A pause. Then Angel slowly nodded, still not looking at her friend as she sighed. Taking it as a sign that she wasn't too moody, Leon sat down right next to her and patted his companion's back.
"Anything worthy of being pursued will always require sacrifices. The degree of what a person sacrifices varies, but it is up to them to decide how much they want…and how much they are willing to give." The brown haired Templar apprentice tapped his finger against Angel's gauntlets. "All of us here took oaths that we would commits our lives to achieve our ultimate goal. Are you having doubts about that goal now?"
A firm shake of the head. "Then what are you afraid of? That one day, you'd have to sacrifice your own life for our cause?"
Angel slowly lifted her hand and pointed a finger at…Leon? The boy was confused for a split second before a wide grin broke out on his face and he began laughing. "Ah! You're afraid about having to sacrifice others?" A nod of confirmation. "Then there is a simple solution my friend!
"We just have to make sure that those sacrifices are never needed!" He swept his hands wildly around, putting one over his chest and the other outstretched in a preaching gesture. "Sacrifices will vary, but having faith and power alone will change those needs! Angel, my dear, you worry too much about what you have to throw away!
"Rather, focus on what you can give yourself!" Leon then proceeded to jolt Angel in her seat as he suddenly leapt up on the table, hands outstretched as he shouted, "We are all capable, with our faith, to change destiny and fate! Angel, with us at the helm, we shall change fate from sacrifice to success!"
The girl watched, mouth slightly agape as her friend bent down and offered a hand up to join him on the top. When the situation finally caught up with her, Angel bent over and covered her mouth, her body trembling as she tried to contain it but it was futile. The impulse was far too strong.
She laughed. It was weak sounding and slightly hoarse, but Angel laughed. Her throat felt like it was burning as she did so, but the Templar apprentice didn't care as she reached up and grabbed her friend's hand. With a slightly grunt, Leon pulled her onto the table, taking care not to accidentally knock her discarded gauntlets off top. "My friend," Leon proclaimed, spinning her rather whimsically around, "We will be the beacon that illuminates others! Our faith shall be the light that illuminates and blasts away the need for sacrifice!"
The other Templars in the room looked at the two dancing apprentices with varying degrees of wariness and shock, but it didn't matter to Angel as she let herself twirl around on the table. So long as she could protect them now, then that was all that mattered. She would get stronger. She would become a warrior equal with her master.
O O O
"Bah. Bah. Bah!" She was angry at her own project. The other two races had been progressing ridiculously well in comparison to her own Protoss. The Terrans were very much on track, having begun the creation of modernizing their little society. The Zerg were even faster, rapidly growing and assimilating. There was even slight concern that they were progressing too fast. But her Protoss?
This shadow war would drag on for decades! The revolution was only just beginning and the fleet was still forming. It would be impossible to get them ready when galactic contact was schedule. Then she'd be the laughing stock of her colleagues!
Unless…
This was very risky. But it would work. In fact, in the long run, she could….aha!
With a sigh, the girl opened up her laptop, the screen lighting up her face in a dull blue shade. A hand reached out and felt around for a while before it eventually grabbed a soda cup and brought the straw to her lips. A long sip was in order first to brainstorm the basics of this program. As she sipped, her free hand began typing.
Basic function: A program of communication, augmented vision, automated functions.
How to implement: Fuse directly into brain. Create neural network.
Result: Digitalized and easier combat.
Name: The Khala Program.
Yes, that would do quite nicely.
O O O
The riots were mounting. The Governor of Tithe was beginning to worry as he watched the people outside shout and jeer at the guards posted outside. Already, some were reporting activities were bordering on violent.
Tithe was a small planet on the fringes of the glorious Firstborn Galactic Empire. It was a small and quiet world, though the population was still about a considerable 2 billion for a small colony. At the first prospect, it was a nice and perfect position for anybody.
But the people here had suffered. Far from their species' home planet, they languished and complained about their lack of rights in comparison to Ark. Indeed, there have always been riots about their inequality in the past, small protests and green roots movements.
But never this scale. Something had not riled up only a portion of the disenfranchised, but it had rather encompassed everybody. Poor and wealthy, affluent and starving, all were shouting and protesting outside the Governor's palace.
He had enough. The fat Firstborn jabbed a button on his desk intercom. "Head of the guard, disperse these peasants. Have all the nobles participating arrested. I want this dealt with before my afternoon tea. Use of firearms is authorized."
There was no response. How odd. The Governor frowned and checked to make sure the intercom was working. He was talking to the chief of his security only a few minutes ago. Had something gone wrong?
As if to answer the question, the exquisitely carved wooden doors to his office slammed open in splinters. The Head of guard was thrown onto the Governor's desk, reducing it to firewood as the armored man groaned in pain. Bewildered, the overweight official scrambled back in fear as the ones responsible strode into his office.
Three people in blue coats with hoods were standing there, soiling his expensive carpet with bloody footprints. Immediately, the Governor recoiled as one of them activated psi-blades, but the lead figure shook their head and put out an arm. After a while, they eventually depowered the weapons, but that did little to reassure the man. "Who the hell are you?!" He demanded, shaking with fear.
"We are the revolution," The leader replied, gesturing to the jeering crowds outside. "We speak for them when we say that your head is desired. The people sing for a change, and that it be baptized in blood. But we are not so barbaric."
"What?"
"Surrender and renounce your position peacefully. Announce that you understand and condemn the wrongs committed and are willing to stand trial for fair justice to be served."
"You jest! I will not do so!" Here, a semblance of courage seized the Governor as he held his head high. "You will tell them to disperse and turn yourself in for proper justice! Disturbing the peace has a consequence! And if you knew who I am supported by, then you shall comply!"
"We do not fear the Firstborn Collective. But you have made your choice." With a gesture, the previously hooded aggressor was let loose and they strode forward, slamming their hand onto the Governor's throat, the act slightly incredible considering the layers of fat coating it.
The flailing man's eyes saw, for a split second, the eyes hidden by the shadows in the hood. They bore a murderous, and slightly gleeful expression as the assailant kicked open the windows. "This is for the people," They whispered before the screaming governor was thrown out of the window and into the cheering crowds below. "The Revolution has begun!"