The Desert is Cold in the Dark [Dark Data]

[Jim Raynor]

"Hey, this piece'a junk's finally doin' somethin'!" Jim said as the information trickled from the liberator aide and into his heads-up display in his armour.

"Uh, I don't like the looks of this ..." Ogong said, frowning. 

Jim took in the simplistic data fed to him. A stronghold was off in the distance, almost due north of their current position. But what was that information worth, when he didn't know what a stronghold was nor how far away they had to go to reach it? The other two blips, one east and one west, tore towards the centre of the radar. In both directions, a sandy plume of smoke billowed into the still desert air. Jim knew what it was like to be ambushed in a desert, and he knew what was coming.

"Can anyone see anything?" the gaunt man said, flat hand against his forehead, peering into the horizon.

"Nothing except those big clouds," Ogong said. "I wonder what's making those?"

Raynor's lips tightened. "I don't know, but I gotta feelin' we don't wanna find out." The black plating on the CMC armour's leg peeled back to reveal a compartment. Jim reached in and pulled out his C-14 Impaler rifle, the compartment plating sliding back into place. He held it across his chest as he gazed into the distance. "We gotta move. I don't know how far this stronghold is, or what we'll find there, but it sure beats waitin' here for whatever those things are."

Somerled nodded. "Right. Let's get moving."

The trio ran across the sands. Ogong scampered ahead, his light frame and monkey-ish movements giving him a clear speed advantage. Somerled followed close behind, and Jim brought up the rear in his clunky marine suit. A thought crossed his mind; the footprints that he was leaving in his wake would surely lead their pursuers straight to them. Yet there was no time to stop and cover their tracks, and if those things coming for them already knew where they were, track-covering wasn't going to throw them off the trail.

"Stay frosty, guys," Jim said to his companions. "We got no idea what we're in for. There could be more surprises on the way, so keep your eyes peeled." To himself, he said, "Adjutant, you got any info on those things that are chasin' us?"

A female voice sounded in Jim's helmet. "Negative, commander. Approaching targets cannot be identified."

"Figures. Don't suppose you can guess how far away we are from this stronghold this gadget keeps bleepin' about?"

"Negative, commander."

Jim sighed. "Guess we'll find out the old fashioned way. Bah. I hate the old fashioned way."