The Alliance

Part 2 - The Escape

Katel and Noro dove behind a huge, towering rock as the Battle cruiser slammed
massively into the ground only 100 metres behind. Suddenly, the ground began to heave
and shake, and a vast, brilliant-white fireball formed within the center of the rapidly
widening crater, from which a tremendous, apocalyptic shockwave raced out,
plummeting violently into the shuddering boulder. The rock cracked, threatened to give
way, nudged forward, but finally held out in the end while the wave barrelled ferociously
over. Then all was quiet. The Commander looked up, badly shaken. The Zerg were
retreating, for the moment, back into the benign, cloudy sky from which they had come.
Noro, shocked, watched the Terrans and Protoss turn upon each other as soon as their
mutual enemy vanished, bombarding and weakening one another for the slaughter!
"Idiots," he muttered as his saviour arose beside him. There was no time to say thanks,
so the human turned to his new friend, saying:
"There's a dropship at Burnigan Outpost, along with two SCVs, which we'll need to set
up our new base. If we're lucky, we can get outta here on the dropper with two of the
peons, and I might even meet up with some of my buddies, and get 'em to come along
too." Katel understood. He nodded.
"Very well," was all he said as he followed Noro through the maze of crimson rocks.

They moved quickly and stealthily, occasionally looking back as the Zerg struck for the
last time, crushing all opposition with ease through sheer, overwhelming numbers and
sweeping on out of sight to the east. There was no emotion in Noro's eyes as he
watched his fleet fall slowly, tragically from the sky. They were fools, and he was not one
of them. The two companions travelled on, passing through dark forests and endless
rocky plains, rushing on far into the starry night, until finally the first tower of Burnigan
outpost, shrouded by the early morning haze, rose slowly over the horizon at the crack of
dawn. They struggled on until at last the two Starports, Command Center and single
Barracks that constituted the little base, along with the double turrets that were its only
defense, lay sprawled out before them. Noro collapsed onto the dried, scorched grass.
"Need . . . rest!" he gasped. Katel still seemed fit and full of energy, yet his eyes seemed
to glow less brightly and he too sat slowly down.
"We have travelled thirty miles," he proclaimed, "even for me, that is far."
"How do you know?"
"It does not matter. I just do."
Silence. Noro, now relaxed, straightened against a mossy tree.
"There doesn't seem to be much in the way of base defence or recon."
The Protoss responded with a curt nod.
"Though - wait - I think . . . "
"What is it?"
"There's John and Mark over there!"
"Do you think you shall be able to, as you Terrans say, 'win them over?'"
"Probably. Listen, all we gotta do is walk through there," said the Commander, pointing towards a double line of swaying trees, "wait for our chance, and run to the dropship. Then I'll go get my buds, with two SCVs, and we'll be gone." As if on cue, a dropship had just landed near the grove, and, although pockmarked with occasional outbursts of sparks flying from its side, it appeared relatively undamaged, especially near the engines, which was what counted. Katel looked at it.
"Your plan appears sound . . . but there is one flaw."
"What's that?"
"We are pilots, not soldiers, and have no armour. If that craft is loaded with, for instance, Goliaths, we shall perish within seconds."
Noro began to speak, but found he couldn't. There was silence as both gazed at the dropship, the sun rising behind.
'It's a risk we'll have to take," breathed the Terran at last.

When evening arrived, the pair descended down from the hill on which they had rested,
towards the cluster of trees they had earlier sighted. Although two marines had emerged
in the later half of the afternoon, the dropship remained where it landed, and slowly Noro
snuck up behind it. Cold sweat trickled down his back as he quietly popped open the
emergency hatch. Although nauseating red lights pulsed to life within, the craft appeared
to be completely deserted. He crawled in awkwardly, followed gracefully by Katel, who
immediately looked about, crouching, then stood up and ambled towards the control center.
"Those lights have got to go."
"All in good time. I will energize the ship. Good luck," and the Protoss hesitated, then
continued with resolution, my friend."

Noro, although he hated to admit it as the hatch closely creaking behind him, was
scared. Terrified, in fact. He began to rehearse lines he could tell his friends to make
them join his cause. But what could he say? Abandon your Dominion, your family, your
position - everything, betray the army, dessert its ranks, and follow me? Leave this planet
like coward to join a Protoss - a Protoss - and set up a new base in the middle of
nowhere? Become a loner, a pirate?

Indeed, the Commander's thoughts were grim as he clambered down from the
dropper's fuselage to the dusty ground. Ah, there was Mark already. Noro looked up.
"God, pull we through this," he mumbled. He hardly ever prayed, and he didn't really
know to what, but when he did, dammit, he meant it.
"Hey, what're you doin there?" a voice called out harshly not 50 feet before him.
"Mark, it's me!"
"Noro? We thought you were dead!"
"Well you know me, old buddy! Would I ever die without sayin good bye?"
Laughing, Mark strode out of the dusk.
"No guess that ain't your style. Brotha, hate to say this but it's good to see ya my man."
"Hey, feeling's mutual."

As the two walked towards the nearest towering starport, with the dim crackling sounds
of frigate construction just barely hearable above the noises of encroaching night, Mark
looked up sharply.
"Why are you here, anyway?"
Uh oh.
"Ah . . . er, we gotta talk."
Dwarfed like and insect by the vast starport, Noro leaned against a massive girder and
began to tell his story, from the time his wraith plummeted to the ground to when he first
heard Mark.
"And the rest," he concluded at last, "you know."
His friend stared at him for what seemed like hours.
"So you're asking me to betray the dominion."
"Eh, yes."
"Dessert the Navy."
"Basically."
"Leave the planet."
"Yep."
"I'll do it."
"What?!" Noro exclaimed. He couldn't believe his ears! He'd fully expected to be shot,
and had even begun to accept death casually.
"Let me tell you a bit of what happened to me these last few days, Okay?" hissed Mark,
his voice quivering. As his companion spilled out the hell he had experienced the last 36
hours, Noro could only gape. A Terran base crushed, all inhabitants slaughtered
because of a disagreement in strategy. Six Protoss Carrier crewman massaqueredwhen they tried to surrender. A Protoss zealot regiment murdered from the air as they
tried to assist the humans against seemingly limitless Zerg defenders. Nine Pirate Prisoners of War executed on a whim . . . the list was endless. Finally Mark described, with hatred in his eyes, how all was done upon the Colonel's orders, and how it was either obey - or die, or worse still: be psycho probed.
"The bastard," he breathed, "the butcher. If only I could . . ." and he broke down, but the
grinding of his teeth and the gripping of his gun made it perfectly clear what he'd love to
do. Noro wanted to help, to counsel his troubled friend in some way, but there was
simply no time.
"Come, we gotta go. I thought we could get to John, but we really gotta hurry now. The
Zerg are near by now."
"Yeah, I know. Listen, there's two peons who'd like to come along too. Would you-"
"Hey, you read my mind. Let's move." Mark, eyes still aflame, nodded.
"Follow me, but don't go sneaking about. You're still a Commander in the Dominion
Navy, remember that."

The hollow clang of footsteps reverberated through the dropship's empty metal hull.
Katel stiffened. In one smooth motion, he leapt behind the control panel, turning off the
lights so only the dull glow of his narrowed eyes was visible in the inky dark. Moments
later, the emergency hatch creaked open, and Noro reassuring voice called out "It's me!"
Behind him came two SCVs, the people within peering anxiously about behind their
helmets. The Protoss pilot flickered on the lights and advanced forward noiselessly.
"We got something for you," Noro said, smiling broadly, "open the payload door and
you'll see." The dropper's rear slid slowly, arduously open as Katel pulled the lever, and
slowly, painted a burning orange by the setting sun, a monstrous Goliath became
visible. The Protoss, surprising even the Commander, allowed himself a low chuckle.
"I did not doubt for a moment you would do well," he spoke.

The Zerg were coming. The combined forces of Zasz and Daggoth were more than a
match for any humans on the planet, and had exterminated virtually all Dominion from
the embattled planet, decimating two sprawling bases in addition to Amerigo and three
smaller outpost. All that remained now was Burnigan Post and two damaged bunkers
five miles away, situated on the crumbling edge of an unstable cliff. Already these were
being lightly strafed by occasional roving packs of zerglings - the rain before the
oncoming storm. For far, far in the distance, barely perceptible as the sun dipped
beneath the tallest mountain, a faint, dark, shimmering line stretched out just above the
horizon.

Zerg.

For the Dominion, this was to be the last stand. For the band of unlikely renegades
aboard the deserted dropper "Tarsonis B," this was the final escape. They'd only one
chance to get out of there, and they had to move now, for scourge are much, much faster
even than Protoss shuttles. Knowing this, Noro already energized the main ship
systems, and now, with Katel's help, was testing the engines.
"In short: we have two at 70%, one at 82% and another at 96%."
"Correct, Noro. Yet shall that be sufficient?"
"Definitely. More than, in fact. I've never been in one of these ships with an engine about
90%. They always seem to be damaged."
"The Protoss shuttles have shields. They are of great assistance."
"Yeah, but you can't repair them. At least," said the Commander proudly, slapping the
battered panel with his right hand," we can fix these babies."
"Since they fall out of the air like gnats, you are fortunate that this is so," proclaimed
Katel, obviously amused. Noro chuckled.
"We're ready to take off," he said to Mark and peon Smith.
"Where's Rogers, by the way?"
"Oh, he's repairing the Goliath in his suit. Never tried one before, and he just can't seem
to back away from it. He's one of those engineer nuts" breezed Smith.
"Very well. Oh, dammit, I nearly forgot. Katel, this is my former wingman Captain Mark
Kennings. Captain, Scout Pilot Katel."
The two shook on it, the Protoss hand completely enveloping the Terran's.
"Now that we've got everybody introduced, we're ready to roll. I've flown these things
before in basic training, so I'll take the flight controls. Katel, could you tell me the exact
coordinates of the Zerg Swarm, minute by minute?"
"I shall."
" Then hold on tight! Let's get outta here!"

Outside, the abandoned dropship glittered slowly to life as lights blinked into being
throughout its bulky fuselage. Then, majestically, its four mighty engines rumbled to life.
Brilliant yellow flames howled wildly out of the buffeting motors, followed by waves of
billowing smoke. To the astonished stares of personnel throughout the doomed base,
the Tarsonis B rose slowly upwards into the darkening sky on a plume of fire,
accelerating rapidly until it was but another star far away in the distance. Meanwhile, the
Zerg moved ever closer.

Above the smoldering valley and the titanic, shattered, egg-like Carrier hulls that lay
brooding therein, a brilliant yellow beacon began to climb up above the jagged horizon.
The passengers within that light looked down in horror.
"Damn," gasped Noro. Mark could only gape. Katel sorrowfully closed his eyes. There,
sliding slowly by, lay the Aiur, once one of the mightiest vessels in the Protoss fleet. On
its massive, mile long hull were etched the great, searing blast marks of Battle cruiser
cannons, next to a venomous scorched crater caused by a Mutalisk's insidious acid
spray. Then, slipping silently past, and even more apocalyptic sight became visible: the
gargantuan Terran Cruiser Danimoth, still smoking surreally from its broken left wing,
smashed straight through some smaller Carrier, which had cracked and twisted out
monstrously in its destruction. Entire forests were pathetically dwarfed by the carnage;
only ten miles further a mountain had been split in half when another Dominion
behemoth plummeted down upon it, and five thousand metres to the East a Carrier had
detonated in mid-air, setting alight and instantly burning to the ground eight of Mar Sara's
oldest forests. Artificial cliffs jutted far above the blackened landscape at unnatural
angles; once Noro had to steer his relatively tiny craft around the monstrous, hulking
cannon of yet another Cruiser, eerily raised 500 metres above a devastated plateau on a
still intact, if smoldering wing. And worse than all the terrors below: there was silence.
Utter, complete, ghastly silence. One the slight hiss of the dropship passing by overhead
was hearable. Not a cry was heard, not even the chilling sounds of scavenger
bangladas: everything was dead. The word 'alive' had no meaning here.

A short while later the ascending dropship passed over the gutted carcasses of what must have been twenty mutalisks, rotting disgustingly in the last, blood-red light of the sun. And there too lay a huge devourer, fangs hideously agape in what must have been a horrifying scream
of pain. Suddenly all was bathed in a bright, hellish, crimson glare, and then there was
darkness. The sun had finally set.

Noro looked up.
"Had they only worked together . . . ."
"Do not think of it now, for we must hasten."
"Right. What-"
"Turn back! I want to see the Colonel die!" bellowed Mark as the sounds of the distant
explosions that heralded the distant outpost's demise echoed through the hull.
"Killing is never good, and now we've gotta go, if only to keep ourselves alive. Control
yourself."
The Captain slumped back into his seat as Rogers entered and stood, frightened,
behind him. Suddenly the craft lurched with new found power and rocketed off wildly into
the sky, throwing the miserable peons backwards against the wall. The sun began to
rise ponderously above the horizon as they climbed higher, up through the turbulent clouds,
past the stratosphere and then, as the blue sky turned to frigid blackness, into space
itself. The craft, spewing a trail of orange smoke lighted by the now rising sun, finally
above the struggles below, swung back around the planet and rapidly out of orbit as the
blood-red world curved away beneath.

Noro froze in his tracks as he began to apologize to the peons.
"What was that?"
Katel gazed unemotionally at the radar screen, but didn't respond. The beep sounded
again. Slowly, with dread in his eyes, Noro turned towards the view screen. Two
mutalisks flapped menacingly into view, snarling viciously.
"The hunter seeks the prey that got away," breathed Mark.
"oh no . . ." whispered Peon Smith.
"Activate the Warp Drive!" roared Noro.
"They're closing in!"
The Tarsonis B shuddered wildly as the first Mutalisk spiralled in and attacked. The
second Mutalisk screamed in upon its victims, and viciously launched its feared spray,
yet missed as its target twisted to the right.
"Hull at 60%! Rear Armour at Zero!" bellowed Mark
"Warp Drive activated!" cried Noro.
"Scourge," rasped Katel.

Sure enough, a lone scourge screeched in with lightning - fast speed, zeroing in on its
suicide target. Just ahead, a brilliant white Warpoint appeared, spiralling majestically
around like a galaxy whirling about its nexus, flooding the escapees with blinding light.
The dwarfed dropship arced up and began to dive in, the quicker scourge, rapidly
closing the distance, raced in just behind, the Warpoint closed . . . .

And the scourge zipped through empty space, now alone. The renegades had escaped!

Suddenly, the stars winked out. What was this? Two powerful beams of blazing energy
zipped out from the inky black abyss, and with a scream smothered by the vacuum of
space, the scourge was torn apart. Slowly, a dark, T shaped silhouette began to emerge
against the glowing red planet below. Another followed. And another. In minutes, even
Mar Sara was eclipsed.

The UED had arrived, but the Protoss had left the planet.

The Overmind was dead.

Stay tuned for Part 3!
This has been a |]agomar production.