Galactic Dawn: Running Story of the Starcraft&Metroid Campaign, 2006.

Log 5: Korhal Crisis
The thin clouds of Korhal's skies whisked by as Elric stared out the window. Tam held the ship steady as the team made their way to find a suitable hideout for the next few days until their meeting with Dubrensk and the final negotiation of terms of their work. Jargenduv sat next to the vending machine and pondered what goodies he should stock up on next. When he had suggested Ginger Beer, Moltar had objected on the grounds that it would be too suspicious. (When redesigning the ship to include highly regulated illegal modifications, Jargenduv had hidden the secondary power core in a vending machine. To further the illusion, he had also made it fully functional, if limited in snack-capacity.) Elric moved from the porthole and heard Jargenduv speaking under his breath as she passed.

Elric: What's wrong?
Jargenduv: Nothing. Only that I can't stand any of our stock of snacks. Whose idea brought us four kinds of pretzels?
Elric: Yeah. That was funny when Maddocks, Guay, and I all came back with some. Who knew we all liked different brands of pretzels.
Jargenduv: Bah. They taste nothing like human...I'm not long for this little army of ours, I think.
Elric: (ignores the rude joke on humans) Hey, what do you mean?
Jargenduv: I think I'm getting old, that's all.
Elric: Well, you have to stick around at least a little longer, old or not.
Jargenduv: Why is that?
Elric: Because you still have to show me how you installed that power core, specifically the feedback regulator.
Jargenduv: Oh, no problem, I can do that right now if you...
Elric: No no, I mean sometime when I'm having trouble sleeping again...

Jargenduv tossed a fun-sized pretzel snack at Elric, who playfully dodged.

Back at the helm, Tam's anxiety began to inflate as a pressure in his side. The ship had suffered greatly in their last encounter, and Tam was uncertain if the ship could withstand the final leg of their journey, especially if the team needed to try multiple landing zones before finding a good hideout.

Moltar sidled up to Laharl, who was standing, alone, in one of the aft sections near the dropping bay reading some small piece of literature.

Moltar: Tell me, are you from Aiur or Shakuras?
Laharl: As my name suggests, I am not old enough to be one of the original outcasts. I hail from Shakuras, but as do all of my race, I long for the verdant shores of Aiur.
Moltar: Ah, I did not know that the Dark Protoss had such a rich etimology behind their nomenclature.
Laharl: It feels strange...The conflict that divorced the Protoss from Aiur is long over. The race already populates much of her face again. My people have come to be valued and accepted thanks to Tassadar's lifework and ultimate sacrifice, yet I feel perplexed by my desires.
Moltar: In what way perplexed?
Laharl: (points to T'Aiur in another corner) Look at Ba'run over there. He rests and reflects on our past battle, his mind ever reaching to the obscurity of the warp that enfolds me. He doesn't want to dissappear, or fall into madness, or summon demons. All of these are possible, you understand? I live this madness every day, and I fight it off by growing distant. Maybe my longing isn't for Aiur at all. Maybe that's a genetic throwback to the race's formative years. What could I be missing in my age that he has?
Moltar: Perhaps it is instead what you have. Suppose he is yet too young to have seen the other side. Maybe his heart also lusts for things distant and unreal, but he is distracted by the here and now. Take me for example. What I really want can never happen. My planet is long gone, and my body is the result of a galactic mistake. I have heard from scientific journals stories of things that happen to a Byunei who lives for too long or gets too close to some impressive cosmic force. Do you know what a chimera is?
Laharl: In the context you are speaking of? I have heard that humans can sometimes be born with backup copies of a brother's DNA, and stories about ancient beasts...but what did you mean by 'impressive force'?
Moltar: I mean a certain kind of psionic emanation. More rare than Khalis, darker than Uraj. The story goes that a whole family made colony on some backwater planet in the corner of the Jroel sector. The next landing party there was a group of Federation Marines responding to a distress call. The reports cite twisted figures eight times their normal size, with abberant biomass springing from every corner of their bodies. The study shows that this was simply an acceleration of a natural process...that my entire race was destroyed in the cataclysm after all, and that I walk the galaxy with a number on my head. What I long for is a way out. I long for a home that for me, never was.
Laharl: And you find that piece in the work we do?
Moltar: Oh, that? No. I just really like the work. You?
Laharl: But of course.

T'Auir rested peacefully in a corner of the drop bay, going over in his head his last few fights. He pondered whether he should have ducked in or out, switched from blades to burn, or feinted here and there. He asked himself unanswerable questions, and answered unquestionable askings, leading himself into a sweet and lolling roll of consciousness. A former weapons instructor of his named Gannoris had taught his this technique of combining the active with the passive moments, so as to learn how to flow with the fight calmly, never flinching. On a rare occasion, he would fall asleep while performing this trance, and Gannoris would strike him to wake him up. It was felicitous that he no longer slipped, as he no longer had the assistance. His only interruption of the flow was the occasional thought of Amris.

Elric found a seat next to another porthole and planted. Though she had been awake only half a day at this point, she could feel a growing ennui. She yawned openly, reserving nothing, and still she felt fatigue setting in, but somehow different. It was as if she was only watching herself get tired and fall asleep. She decided to remove the headpiece to see if her helmet was malfunctioning when the ship suddenly listed.
$nbsp T'Auir remained stable as he watched the rest of the crew stumble and fall under the violent rocking of the hull beneath them. He made his way to the cockpit to learn what had happened. Tam quickly explained that there was nothing to do but get into crash positions and hope. The safeguards would probably keep the team alive, but navigation systems had been the first to fail. Tam and T'Aiur knew they would be lost. Tam fastened down. T'Auir checked on the others, who were also crash-ready except for Elric, who had apparently morphed and was crammed inbetween some bulkheads in the forward bay. T'Auir struggled through the turbulence to find a place for himself, and as he did, he observed out of the window in a moment of absolute clarity a community of Terrans somewhere to their North-Northwest. The engines groaned as they slowly wound down, and for a few seconds the only sounds heard were the rushing of the relative wind and the arch whines of the hull itself, shrieking in pain.
  None of the team stayed awake for the crash, as rapid pressure changes saw to redding-out their respiration. Tam was the first to awaken, and he quickly unstrapped and checked the aft bays for the team. T'Auir, check. Laharl, check. Jargenduv, check. Moltar, check. Guay, check. Maddocks, check. Elric...was missing. A large hole in the ship's port side had half-filled with red-orange sand, and had in it a trail made by a small sphereoid. Tam cursed under his breath, and roused the others with little difficulty.

Tam: Is anyone injured? No? Good. That may be the one thing going for us right now.
Jargenduv: Where's red robot?
T'Aiur: Don't be impetuous. Where's Elric?
Jargenduv: Oh, there you are. Don't go so far away when you hide next time.
T'Aiur, Tam, Laharl: Huh?
Jargenduv: Red robot. He was right here next to me after all.
Tam: We're missing a member, your tenacious toaster can wait.
Jargenduv: Well, yeah. Also he's alright right now.
Tam: We've got to find her. Any ideas?
T'Aiur: I spotted a town not far from here. Perhaps some of the local Terrans can come to our aid.
Moltar: The tracks become insubstantial not far from here, how long were we out?
Tam: I woke first, and the ship's log syncs with my armor's chronometer to indicate that I had been unconscious for almost half an hour. Worst case, she was lucid the whole time and ran off when we crashed. She could be a long way off.
Laharl: Then best to collect a larger search party before we set out for her. Let us make our way to the town.

The team left Guay and Maddocks behind to guard the ship and estimate the damages and supplies. They traveled at T'Aiur's direction over the hard orange dirt and musky dunes of the face of Korhal, eventually leaving their ship behind as a black dot in a background where the purple sky of evening met the brownish orange sand of the land. Minutes passed into hours as they scored the sands with their footfalls. Ahead of them lay an open field past the dunes, and visible beyond that the blackened greenery of a forest. T'Aiur indicated that the town should be just on the other side of that forest, and that at any rate, any sign of life was a good one, even if it was only short, twisted, scrubby briars and brush.
  The team approached, and made their way through the tough turf with T'Aiur and Laharl at the front, burning or slashing the more bothersome brush. Moltar spotted a small lake in a sunken part of the forest, and people there. The five of them quickly approached, and saw a man manipulating a bucket in the lake, and children near him playing with each other in the water. Moltar and T'Aiur cloaked at Tam's direction. Laharl chose to remain hidden. The man approached and hailed them.

Doppler: Hail. My name is Doppler. What brings you here from the woods, and dressed so oddly?
Tam: We're a delivery service. Our ship was having problems and then spiraled and crashed some distance to the south. We need a tow and a place to rest.
Doppler: I would love to help out...but I'm not sure I can. I mean, for the two of you I would have to arrange things with the town Elders, and you can forget about having your ship towed and repaired here. We're farmers.
Tam: We can deal with the ship somewhere else, I suppose, but we also need to recruit a search party for another member of ours. We five cannot do the job.
Doppler: (recoils slightly as the cloaks wear off in front of his eyes) I see. You all must be hot from the journey. That is something I can fix at least.

Doppler walked back to the lake and spoke to the children, who left jogging for the town. He returned with his bucket and splashed water on each of them in turn.

Doppler: What's the matter, you don't like water?
Laharl: (activates psi shields to deflect the incoming splash) Bad memories.
Tam: Thanks for that.
Doppler: It's something of a greeting around these parts.
Tam: Will you help us?
Doppler: I'll see what I can do. You should all stay right here for a spell.

Moltar: So...does anyone else think we should move out?
Tam: I got that feeling. Something here isn't at all right.
T'Aiur: Indeed. This Doppler was hiding something.
Laharl: Shall I hunt him?
Tam: No. We'll investigate this town ourselves, together.

The party left in the direction Doppler had taken, and soon came upon the town T'Aiur had seen from the sky. There were streets filled with rows of Terran architecture from between ten and fifteen years ago. Some parts led further down into wide open pastures, and others with rows of crops fenced off around. Jargenduv explored on his own a short way from the group to taste the local fruits. He could not identify the crop, which seemed to be the only thing that grew in this place. He found the bite he took to be extremely bitter and slimy with some kind of small chewy-elastic spheres inside. He felt ill from the experience, and rejoined the others to relate his findings. They continued down a small road and found what appeared to be the widest road in town. Along the entire sojurn they met no people and no open doors. At Tam's behest they did not fiddle with any of the doors. After walking the main drag through the empty street for twenty minutes, they found a building with a statue in front that bore the words "City Hall." They entered and announced openly that they were looking for assistance. Getting no response, the team continued through the rather narrow halls looking for an unlocked door. They wondered at the construction. In all the rest of the town, this was the only building that resembled a live-combat construction, and a command center at that. Tam spoke out again to no response, when the lights dimmed and went out.

Intercomm Voice: Intruders. You will be held prisoner here.
Tam: On what charges? This is absurd.
Jargenduv: I don't think they can hear us, but they may be coming.

The team suddenly fell violently ill all at once, except for Laharl, who instead noticed some small red lights coming down the hallway that resembled certain sensory equipment commonly applied to Terran ghost's headpieces. He moved in and attacked, knocking down the first of them, whose form briefly flashed as he fell, an Eticoon in Sneaker's attire. Before he could fell the next two of them, he too was stunned with illness and found himself immoble.
  The team awoke in a large holding cell, stripped of their equipment. A man approached and spoke through the slot in the middle of the cell door.

Mysterious Man: Doppler told me that you would be coming. I am pleased that he applied the necessary first dose of our medicine, although it was not as effective on your Dark Protoss comrade as I had hoped.
Tam: (looks around) Where is Jargenduv?
Mysterious Man: Your Pathomorph is resting in medbed right now. It seems that our gravitic bonds had an unusually potent effect on his physiology. In his delirious state, he spoke out about a missing daughter. Have you come here to kidnap one of my darlings? Did Mengsk send you?
Tam: We have nothing to do with Mengsk.
Mysterious Man: Then why are you here?
Tam: We're a delivery service. Our ship crashed and we need a tow.
Mysterious Man: I have no time for lies. I'll be back after I see your ship. If you see me one more time, you'll be doing well. If you see me two more times, you will not be doing well.

With that, the man left having never breathed his name. He soon returned to negotiate the deal with the team. His proposition for them was to leave for a town to the North where they could find what they needed; there to deliver a package for his farming co-op. He would provide vehicles to make the trip, the package, and some clothes. They would recieve their own gear upon their successful return, with a message from the reciever. In the meantime, Jargenduv was to remain in the infirmary until their return. The Mysterious Man then left, and the team felt drowsy once again.
  They awoke on the outskirts of the town, in the bright light of day with a high wind all around. An Eticoon in thick leatherworked robes indicated to the team the bikes, and repeated the mission. Apparently the deal was to keep quiet about this place, and as the life of one, or possibly two, of their own was on the line, they thought it quite a bargain at that.
  The four Vulture Hoverbikes seemed to know the way to the city called Branson all their own. Whisking through the dry air at amazing speeds, the team thought a while about their situation. Tam was out of this particular conversation, which took place in whispers between the three semi-psions.

Jargenduv awoke comfortably in a white bed. The room was unusually large to house only the single bed he could see. In a moment, a deminutive doctor arrived, and related a positive prognosis before asking a more curious question.

Doctor: There is one thing I don't understand. I can find no reason that the gas should have had such a powerful effect on you. Our neurotoxins work more rapidly when the accelerant is applied, but for what happened to you...you would have had to have imbided some of the accelerant.
Jargenduv: You mean the water? The plants soak that up, right?
Doctor: You mean...
Jargenduv: Oh yeah, I took a bite out of one of these little plants with thick leaves that was in an open field. Believe me, that's the last time I try Terran fruits.
Doctor: I see...so, how did it taste?
Jargenduv: I remember making a note of it in my field guide. Let me check. (looks through a design notebook he retained on his person always) Says here it tastes pretty good.
Doctor: I'll have to remember that. I have something for you for when you're ready to check out. Your friends should be back sometime soon as well.
Jargenduv: What is this crazy place anyway?
Doctor: We're just farmers here, but we prefer to keep a low profile as a community.


Yuki could taste midnight.
Seven thousand ghostly heads swept past, as open fields cried out from above her for vengeance.
Every color she had ever seen wiggled in front of her achromatically and brightly.
Home was close, she could hear it.
Machine parts fit together before her in perfect precision.
Orthogonal lines sprayed out from a source nearby.
The vigor was nearby, and the calling, always the calling in the crawling darkness.
Yuki could taste midnight.

The team reached Branson without trouble or delay. Immediately they split and found a number of possible sources for their repair needs while also delivering the package as promised. Unexpectedly, the recipient thanked and payed them for the package, and suggested a particular garage over the others. Tam picked this garage, which had given them the lowest rate for the tow (250,000 Mengsks) and sent the bikes back on auto-drive with the message and payment attached. The garage only gave Tam a rate contingent upon appraisal, which would be done in the field. He accompanied two mechanics in one of their hovercraft to direct them to the crash site. The mechanics observed the damage, and they returned to Branson shortly with Maddocks and Guay along. By the time of their return, Jargenduv had arrived with a special package of his own, and the payment the team had sent along before.

Jargenduv: They said we should keep this.
Tam: I have no objections. We have plenty in the bank to cover the repairs, but this also helps I guess.
T'Aiur: What are our chances of collecting a search party from here?
Moltar: Offhand, I would say not good. There seems to be a shortage of fighting men around here.
Laharl: We don't need fighting men, just a score or so of good eyes.
Moltar: Good luck finding that either. Anyone who takes pay for jobs in the way that we do is already out for some reason.
Tam: Ah, good. It looks like they have a grappling craft to carry our ship here.
T'Aiur: They are leaving now? I'm going with.
Tam: What would that accomplish?
T'Aiur: It will take time for them to grip the ship. I can use that to look for Elric.
Tam: You're nuts. Go on, then, for all the good it will do.

T'Aiur left with the grappling craft, which estimated a large U shape and peeled low through the air with a gentle hum. In the two hours that it took for the mechanics to steady Optimus in their grip, T'Aiur peered through the sands with rapid speed. The dunes proved too vast and too craggy to reveal Elric. He did, however, find a small chest that seemed totally out of place amidst the dunes. He kept it unopened, and returned in the evening with the mechanics.
  The team discussed their options. It seemed as though they would not be able to find their lost on their own, or without some clue as to why she rolled out in the first place. Tam had discovered, again to their dismay, that there was some difficulty with the Thirty-First Bank of Korhal in the routing station at their Tannar branch office. This little hiccup would prevent them from paying the mechanics, and until then they would hold Optimus. A bank official at the Branson branch office indicated that the sheriff might be of some help, and he was in a local hangout of his own.

Tam: You're the sheriff of Branson?
Sheriff: In fact I ain't. Tannar is my town. The marshal is letting me use this little hole for awhile. There's a war on! Last night, one of my deputies spotted a Zerb Cerebrate outside of the town, and this morning the fighting started. They're amassing for a final barnstorm that'll knock my town off the map if I don't do something.
Tam: I have some fighters.
Sheriff: How many?
Tam: Five. And I'm prepared to take out this siege that threatens your town, if the price is right.
Sheriff: (laughs heavily and long) Son, you've brightened my darkest day. If you five stop the siege, you can have my ranch.

Moltar: How did it go?
Tam: It seems that the next town over is under attack by the zerg. No telling if shifters or Kerrigan are involved.
Laharl: Then what do we do next? With the right planning and enough patience, we could spoil the siege.
Tam: No way. Even if we slowed them down, or stopped them, it would mean all our heads.
T'Aiur: I am prepared to die in battle with the enemies of the homeland.

A shrouded figure emerged from a nearby alleyway and addressed the group.

Shrouded Eticoon: There may be another way, and I may know all about it.
Tam: Who are you?
Fwuun: My name is Fwuun, and what you need is a blanket.
Tam: Blanket?
Fwuun: When the other Terrans were here, they kept it as a safeguard against the return of the Bladed-Beast, but even they did not know why they built it according to the way I know. The way I know is on this map, it will show you the end of the siege that threatens Terran-town.
Tam: How do you know all this?
Fwuun: One of you has something I wish to acquire. I would consider it fair trade to the dying if I gave up my map for it.
Jargenduv: You're pointing at me...but I don't...
Fwuun: Give me the cereal.
Tam: Alright. We could use a break for once.

Jargenduv traded the small package he had recieved from the Doctor on his exit from the strange town to Fwuun for a map, written on parchment. The team followed the map in their gear, prepared for a fight. The time would soon be upon them when Tannar would be overwhelmed by an army of mutated monsters. At their estimates, they would have only two days to find and activate this weapon. In only an hour they came across the end of the map, and before them stood a sunken entryway into a labyrinthian dungeon in the dunes, the once proud weapon-building known as the Psionic Resonator, a device capable of manipulating Cerebrate signals to send the self-destruct message to the warrior broods. They saw a trail in the sand, and realized that Elric had come here too, although to what purpose remained unclear. The team took control of their anxiety as they entered the dungeon.

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