Twilight tdts-3

by Кристи Голдэн

  "Rosemary!" Vartanil's mental voice rang in her mind. "Where are you going?"

  "There's a hydralisk watching Jake right now that might decide to abduct him at any minute. I don't care what you all are planning, I'm going to get it before it gets him," she shot back over her shoulder.

  "But—what about the ship?"

  "It's spaceworthy now. You can run the final tests and put crystals into corners as easily as I can. And I can't even pilot the thing, I'm not a protoss."

  "Oh.. .you are correct. I.. .had forgotten."

  Even as she ran up the wide, dimly lit corridor that led toward the surface, toward the fighting, Rosemary grinned at that. She raced down the halls, her booted feet ringing as she ran. Even now, even with an attack from a creature that shook the very foundation of this building and the sounds of battle at its doorstep, it seemed wrong to be moving loudly down these ancient halls.

  She rounded a corner and kept going. She only hoped she wouldn't be too late.

  Jake stared sickly at Zamara, his hands clutching hers as if he could physically keep her here, keep her from dissolving into nothingness, even though he knew that the entire encounter was taking place solely in his mind.

  "Is there no other way? Couldn't—I don't know—couldn't I be put in some kind of stasis until we find another preserver?"

  "Even if we did attempt such a thing, I do not know if it would make a difference. The memories are held in a human brain now, not a protoss brain. Perhaps I was fated to this the moment I bonded with you."

  She reached out a long-fingered hand to touch his cheek. "And if that is so," she continued, "then it is so. Without you, I never would have had the chance to reveal my knowledge. I only hope that you survive, Jacob. You have astonished me at every turn with your ability to adapt, recover, and persevere. If your species produces individuals like you.. .then the protoss have much to learn from such an upstart race."

  She was attempting to interject levity, but Jake shook his head. He couldn't believe this. Zamara had done so much. She couldn't just...be wiped out like this....

  "Zamara!" he cried brokenly. Impulsively, he reached out to hold her, to keep her here, just for a little while longer. He realized, odd as it seemed, he'd grown to love this protoss. She'd hijacked his body, brought about the death of his friends, and her presence inside him might indeed mean his own death. But he'd never before seen such integrity. She had become part of him. And now she was about to disappear. About to become lost forever.

  "No," he vowed. "You won't be lost, Zamara. I'll remember you...the way humans do. I'll make sure that everyone knows about you—what you did for your people. How brave you were. How much you loved them. I know it's not the same thing, hell, it's not the same thing at all, but you'll still be more than just dry words locked in a crystal somewhere. I'll tell them, I swear. If you learned something about us, then I swear to you, we'll learn something about the protoss. I just wish—"

  Her hand, warm, the skin slightly rough and dry, brushing his cheek.

  "I know, Jacob Jefferson Ramsey. I know." And before his eyes, she began to fade.

  Even though the energy creature appeared to have a clear purpose, it seemed to dance as it flew rather than heading on a laser-straight path. Despite the urgency of the situation, Zeratul's heart lifted as he followed.

  His delight turned to momentary confusion when suddenly his screen was crowded with dozens of blips with readings identical tothe creature whose trail he was following. It had to be a malfunction. Perhaps there was some sort of echo that—

  A few moments later, Zeratul stared in wide-eyed astonishment at what he was able to see with his own eyes.

  There were indeed dozens—perhaps hundreds—of the luminous, vaguely-aquatic, wholly mysterious creatures swirling and dancing and diving together. For a long time, this glowing ritual was enacted, and Zeratul simply watched. He enjoyed the feeling of humility that rose in him as he witnessed this spectacle. He knew that if he survived what Zamara feared was coming he would enjoy the feeling again.

  Abruptly, as if from an unheard signal, they all became very still. Zeratul waited, watching. And then, more swiftly than his vision could even register, they began to whirl. Faster and faster they flew until they became a blur of glowing movement, growing brighter and brighter still until the dark templar was forced to narrow his eyes and then finally shield them. A blast of light made him jerk with pain and he closed his eyes for a moment. Cautiously he opened them.

  The energy creatures were gone. In their place was a hole in the very fabric of space—a tunnel, a wormhole, outlined in shining light, its center dark and mysterious and beckoning with the exception of a single world, barely glimpsed, waiting on the other side. Zeratul knew he could no more refrain from entering that mysterious doorway than he could stop his skin from absorbing nutrients from the cosmos. He was a protoss, and though he knew and understood and practiced intelligent caution, his curiosity would not let him be.

  He calmed his thoughts, although in truth he was almost quivering with excitement. He would need all his wits about him if what awaited him on that world was not benevolent. For a moment, he forced himself to be still, to go within, and when he was ready, Zeratul moved slowly, steadily toward the wormhole. What was on the other side, he somehow knew, be it beautiful and wonderful or horrific and destructive, would change everything.

  CHAPTER 21

  THERE WAS NO THOUGHT OF BOXES, LABELS, OR categorization now. With the very foundation of their sacred place shivering beneath the figurative footfalls of the encroaching dark archon, the alysaar came at a run, their arms filled with brimming boxes or even sacks. The ship was large, but not enormous. It had been designed to carry about a dozen protoss and a fairly decent amount of cargo, presumably for shorter-term excursions. Vartanil realized, as they all did, that only a small handful of those here would make it out of the Alysaril.

  He and the others began to tear out seats. They would load the vessel with as many protoss and crystals as they could. It was the best he could do.

  Ulrezaj was almost—almost—disappointed.

  It had been a long time since anyone had offered even the merest possibility of defeating him in battle. He had actually worried for a time on Aiur, with the three factions attacking him simultaneously. Indeed, had he not retreated when he did, they might have won.

  But it had taken all three large forces to threaten him with any real danger. Now it was the remnants of the zerg and a handful of alysaar untrained in combat who foolishly tried to stop the mighty Ulrezaj from achieving his goal.

  Effortlessly, almost lazily, he continued to move forward toward the building where he had once been an eager young student. How the memories raced through him now. He thought, almost nostalgically, that he might opt to spare the building. But no—why leave anything the protoss could use against him? Better to raze it all, protoss, terrans, zerg, crystals, structure. Wipe the surface clean. Then he could return here unmolested whenever he needed to.

  It was time. Ethan wondered if he wasn't already cutting it too close. At the speed of thought, his zerg acted. The pack that had been waiting like good dogs at the foot of the stairs now sprang into action. They bounded up the stairs, chittering and snapping their jaws.

  They were not unseen. Selendis rushed forward, psi blades glittering, and sliced three in half almost immediately. Blood and ichor began to drip down the black stairs. Still the zerg came on, driven and utterly obedient.

  Inside, the hydralisk acted. It hunched forward, firing spines from its back. The two guardian protoss immediately sprang toward it, blocking the deadly barbs with their own bodies, dying to protect their alysaar'vah and the human he tended to. They went down silently, their bodies impaled a dozen times over, blood pooling out from beneath them.

  The four forms within the room remained still, as if they had not noticed anything. The hydralisk ducked its head and moved forward, sliding into the chamber.

  There was no battle cry t
o alert it, no posturing threat or warning. Only the sudden and violent impact of spikes of quite another variety than its own, riddling it as it screamed and thrashed and twisted around to see a petite human female still firing at it.

  It surged toward her, extending its scythes to separate the human's head from its body. The human didn't back down. Pale, tight-lipped, her blue eyes intense, she kept firing until, with a final faint swipe, the hydralisk toppled and hit the floor. The intense yellow of its eyes faded to dark.

  Rosemary stared at it a moment, panting. It had gotten within inches of striking her. Quickly she glanced into the room. All was as it had been when she had left. Nodding to herself, she took off for the courtyard, where she could hear the sounds of ravening zerglings on the rampage.

  Ethan grunted as the zerg that was his eyes on the inside died. Rosemary, of course.. .Trouble had much to answer for. Still, several zerglings had managed to get past Selendis and make it inside. The executor killed all she attacked, but the sheer volume ensured that she couldn't take down all of them. A thought sent a second group away from harrying the dark archon and rushing up the stairs.

  Suddenly a soft blue-white radiance sprang up around the Alys'aril. The zerglings, running full tilt, slammed into the barrier and were knocked back. Some of them did not rise. The others kept hurling themselves at it in vain.

  A psionic shield. The protoss who served in this.. .this library were not warriors, not the way the templar were on Aiur. But they had will, and they had mental power, to protect the structure.

  Ethan swore. He should have seen this coming. Angrily, he summoned the guardians toward the glowing, radiant dome of energy that engulfed the temple, and had them attack.

  Closer to the Alys'aril, Ulrezaj paused, mildly amused as he felt a slight brush against his thoughts and realized that the alysaar wer erecting a field to protect themselves. It was...almost endearing, how they kept trying. Endearing, but foolish. Well, he would let them think they had succeeded for a moment or two; he found it entertaining.

  The earth, already dry, turned utterly dead as he moved inexorably across it. Like a slug leaving a smear of slime, Ulrezaj left a blackened trail to mark where dark archon energy had obliterated the soil beneath him. He reached out with his mind and touched the protective shield the alysaar had erected. Grudgingly, he realized that it would actually hold against his first assault. They were stronger than he had expected; stronger mentally than he had been, before he had secretly approached the forbidden Wall of Knowledge in his youth and learned about the powers he now wielded almost effortlessly.

  Yes, it would hold against his first assault. Maybe even the second.

  But not the third.

  It was time to end this. He had toyed with them enough. Like a careless child treading on insects beneath his feet, Ulrezaj continued to move through the zerg almost unaware of their existence beyond a mild annoyance.

  The sun shone with fierce and dispassionate brightness down upon the scene of dead and dying, squirming, shrieking zerg, meditating protoss, and the great dark archon that was about to destroy them all. Its intensity did not penetrate Ulrezaj; his darkness took the light and swallowed it.

  And then a shadow fell on the bright, dead ground. And another. Until dozens of small shadows danced on the earth.

  And Ulrezaj shook with terrible rage as he realized that a third enemy had joined against him yet again.

  Rosemary felt the shock and delight rip through her mind as the protoss saw it.

  Ships—so many that the sky was becoming crowded. Terran vessels. "I'll be damned," Rosemary said softly. "The cavalry does come over the hill."

  Of course, this cavalry was no doubt commanded by Valerian Mengsk, and that meant trouble of another sort, but she'd deal with that later. She shot the two zerg that were bearing down on her, then raced out into the courtyard and assessed the situation as she swung the rifle into position.

  She could see Ulrezaj with her own eyes now, looming toward them. His dark image was slightly obscured and softened by the blue-white shield the protoss had erected, but it was clear enough. At his feet was a vast spread of dead and dying zerg of all shapes and sizes. The hot air, so still when she had first come here as if nothing ever pierced the silence, was now swirling with dust and laden with sound. The shrieks and bellows of the zerg as they hurled themselves at the shield; the deep pulses of Ulrezaj's dark energies as they surged outward; and the more familiar sounds of Dominion vessels. Rosemary heard the reverberating spurts of plasma torpedoes, the explosions of cluster rockets, and the once-you've-heard-it-you-never-forget building, nail-biting hum of a Yamato cannon.

  Some of the ships she recognized right off the bat, such as the dropships like the one she herself had piloted not that long ago. There were battlecruisers, of course. She counted four of them. She could peg them anywhere by the sound of the Yamato cannons and the unique hammerhead shape. But they looked different, somehow. And the fighters—she blinked, wondering if the waviness induced by the heat in the air was making her see things. For the first time, she understood the phenomenon of the mirage and the oasis. She was sure the thing was there a minute ago—

  And then it reappeared, a zippy little planetside fighter with almost nostalgic-looking turbofans to propel it. Cloaking ability, then. It was small and swift and Rosemary felt like she was falling in love as she watched it dip and dive and unload cluster rockets.

  And over there—the piece of military equipment she'd pegged as a type of siege tank had tucked its massive legs underneath it, somehow leaped into the air and sprouted wings. It had now taken flight and was diving and retreating at Ulrezaj while a mutalisk was doing the same thing.

  Heh... talk about "air to ground, "she mused. Clearly Arcturus, or at least his military people, hadn't been just sitting on their butts drinking port over the last few years.

  And amazingly enough, the combination of zerg and Dominion vessels was obviously giving Ulrezaj pause.

  It had been many years since Rosemary considered herself starry-eyed, and she wasn't now. Ulrezaj, from what she understood, could replenish himself easily and effectively at any point. Even as she watched, several of the fast little ships got too close to the dark archon and were vaporized instantly. Even if Valerian had brought the whole Dominion fleet with him, she wondered if they'd be able to best Ulrezaj on his home turf.

  Still... all they needed was some time. Some time to pile into the ship, get through the warp gate, and come back with a bunch of protoss ready to...

  She shook her dark head. No, they might get through with the vessel, a couple of alysaar, and some crystals. But even a slew of protoss who were masters at the sort of thing she'd witnessed on Aiur wouldn't be able to stop him. He'd wear them down.. .and then restore himself.

  They were losing. He was almost here. Rosemary realized that at this moment, she was utterly impotent. She could do nothing. No grenades, no gauss rifles, no weapon or power she could wield as an ordinary human female was going to make a difference. It had been up to the protoss to defeat him, them and their psionic storms. The protoss here had done everything they could, she'd give them that— but it wasn't enough. It simply wasn't enough.

  They were losing, and she and Jake would die.

  Her brow creased in the stubborn frown that both friend and enemy alike would have recognized, had they seen it. Rosemary lifted the rifle and got the dark archon in her sights. It was a pointless and empty gesture, but if he got within range, she was going to fire on him.

  At least she'd go down fighting.

  Jake still held Zamara's four-fingered hands in his own. They were growing more and more transparent and felt oddly fragile, as if he were holding an empty eggshell instead of flesh and bone, as if he could crush them with a quick squeeze. Of course, both this eggshell-thin version of Zamara's hands and a more solid one were equally unreal, existing, as they did, solely in his mind.

  More solid...

  Jake stared at them. It wasn't his i
magination—well, of course it was, it all was, but that was beside the point. Zamara's hands were indeed growing more solid within his own.

  "What..." He didn't dare hope, but Zamara's eyes shone brightly.

  "The crystal," she said, and he suddenly understood.

  Normally, the dark templar utilized the khaydarin crystals found on Ehlna for the purpose of storing memories. But Jake had not given them an Ehlna crystal. He had given them a piece of the enormous crystal that had hovered deep beneath Aiur, by all accounts the most powerful khaydarin crystal any living protoss had ever encountered.

  And this unique crystal was able to contain more than simple data.

  "You...you won't be lost," he breathed. He felt his lips stretch in a grin that, he suspected, bordered on the idiotic.

  She hunched her shoulders in a laugh. "It would appear not," she said. "Perhaps, in the future, we will find more crystals like this one. And then the dark templar will be able to preserve memories almost the way we do."

  He felt almost giddy with relief and squeezed her hands, the hands that were not real. But they were real. They were as real as the tumble he'd taken that had kicked off the whole chaotic adventure, as real as the guilt that still racked him about the deaths of his friends, as real as Rosemary's kiss before he entered this mental state.

  As real as—

  "Ulrezaj!" he cried, reflexively tightening his grip.

  "I know," Zamara said. Her grief was his own. "I have led him here, to this sacred place of irreplaceable knowledge, to these innocents who have had nothing to do with anything other than study. He has come for me, Jacob Jefferson Ramsey."