StarCraft: Dark Templar: Twilight

by Christie Golden

  “The crystal is astoundingly pure. I think it will successfully contain all the memories.”

  “What about Jake?” Rosemary demanded. It was good that they would get whatever it was that Zamara was so insistent was important, of course, but her concern was Jake. He lay alarmingly still on the dark stone slab; she wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

  “I do not understand human anatomy, child,” Krythkal chided her. “All I can do is remove Zamara’s influence from him. You will have to turn to your terran physicians after that. Now be silent, and let us complete this.”

  Rosemary frowned. She hadn’t expected that. Somehow she’d thought that if they could extract Zamara, Jake would suddenly be right as rain. But his symptoms were physical, too, weren’t they? Brain tumors didn’t just disappear.

  Krythkal extended his right arm and placed the crystal in midair as if he were setting it on a shelf. It hovered there, a miniature version of the huge crystal she’d seen in the caverns. Krythkal gave a signal, probably telepathic, and as one, each protoss extended his right hand and held it a centimeter from Jake’s body. Their left hands, they raised, palms out, facing the crystal chip.

  Rosemary hissed as they seemed to suddenly be pulling cool blue light from Jake’s inert body. A moment later, a thin, glowing line extended from each alysaar’s palm into the crystal. So that was how they did it. They physically took the energy of memories from the subject and transferred it into the crystal, like siphoning blood into a jar.

  She didn’t say anything, but couldn’t help wondering if this was hurting Jake.

  “No,” came the thought from Krythkal. “He feels nothing.”

  Rosemary bit her lip. She had no idea how long this would take…but one thing she did know: Zamara had a lot of memories to transfer into that tiny little crystal.

  “Beginning transference,” came the implacable mental voice of Krythkal. Zamara’s body jerked slightly, as if something were tugging at her. It was going to work after all! Jake started to grin at Zamara, but instead of pleasure and relief he sensed shock and grief rolling off her. In that place that was not real but seemed very much so, he grasped her hand, touching her, making contact as he had once done before with her physical shell.

  “Zamara, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I—should have anticipated this,” she said. She squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. “But at least the knowledge will survive.”

  Coldness filled his gut. “What do you mean?”

  She looked at him sadly. “What the dark templar have been able to do is admirable. It is important and worthy, and they record the memories as best they can. But the way they do it is different. Preservers are organic beings; they are not technology, which is what the dark templar utilize.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Do you remember how the memories unfolded when I shared them with you?”

  He nodded. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget. It was like I was the person whose memories you were sharing. It was as if it was happening to me right at that moment.”

  “They lived, then,” she said softly. “Through you. Through me. Through all preservers, when they delve into the waters of the memories we carry. Those who have gone before us do not cease to exist. We don’t just remember them—we preserve them.”

  He nodded, still not seeing why this was so—

  His eyes widened as understanding struck him. “Oh God…Zamara…you won’t be preserved, will you?”

  She shook her head. “No, Jacob. The memories I hold that the dead have experienced—all preservers have those memories. So they will live on, which is a relief to me—provided I am truly not the last preserver. But I and my memories…the knowledge will be saved, and that is important. But…I will not be saved. When others activate this crystal, it will be as if they are reading a history. It will be facts, and figures, and information. But they will not know me. It will be as if I had never existed.”

  The entire time he had known Zamara, she had been pragmatic and courageous. She had let slip frustration and worry from time to time, and as his condition had worsened, her affection for him had come through. But he had never seen her so vulnerable, so grieved. And he understood completely.

  She would be erased. The information, blunt and lifeless, would survive, but all that was Zamara—her stubbornness, her dry humor, her love for her people, the depth of compassion and understanding that only a preserver could have experienced—would be lost to her people.

  Zamara would be no more.

  This was taking a long time. Rosemary began to fidget after she suspected only an hour had passed. Into the second hour, she could stand it no longer and rose as quietly as possible. Their eyes closed, their bodies as motionless as they had been since they had started, the protoss took no notice of her. With silent steps Rosemary moved toward the door. It opened and she slipped out.

  Selendis, Vartanil, Razturul, and Mohandar were there. As one, they turned toward her.

  “Is it complete? Was it successful?”

  “They’re not done yet,” Rosemary said. “I had to get out and move a bit. They said they thought it was going to work, though.”

  “Ah, that is good! And the professor? He will be all right?” asked Vartanil.

  “We’ll need to get him to a doctor right away. The tumors won’t be aggravated anymore, but apparently they won’t disappear either. I’m not sure how we’re going to find a human doctor, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “I would offer the skills of our people, but we do not understand your physiology,” Selendis said. “Yet…perhaps we may be of some help regardless. The tumors were created by exposure to protoss mental energy, which—”

  She froze. Her head whipped around. Before Rosemary could blink, Selendis had clenched her fists and summoned two brightly glowing blades from the bracers that encircled her wrists. Razturul emulated her, his blade glowing a bright green rather than a cool blue. Mohandar and Vartanil, too, had tensed, all four protoss staring down the corridor.

  “What the hell’s going on?” cried Rosemary. They had returned her weapons to her, and now she reached for the rifle she carried strapped to her back.

  “The Alys’aril is under attack,” said Selendis.

  CHAPTER 19

  AS IF IT WERE FATE, ALTHOUGH ZERATUL WAS not certain he believed in such a fixed concept, the planet that Jacob had named “Pegasus” was located in the same sector as Ehlna. He realized that the dark templar had even visited the planet briefly in ages past, assessing and then dismissing it as of no real importance. Ah, if those earlier explorers of this world had only known.

  Moving swiftly into orbit in the Void Seeker, Zeratul was glad of the closeness of his destination. Experienced as he was, he knew both the necessity of careful consideration and swift, decisive action. What burned inside him was neither. It was a strange sensation of urgency, almost anxiety, that sang in his blood now. Was it simply that finally, after too long spent brooding in isolation, he was again engaged in action? Perhaps.

  Perhaps not.

  Surely some of this sensation was due to the fact that Zamara had clung so tenaciously to life, of a sort; what she had to impart was vital indeed. Combined with what Zeratul already knew, it was logical to fear and to wish to do something, anything, quickly. But he wondered if it was more than that.

  He took the ship through the atmosphere, his fingers moving lightly over the crystal that carried his mental instructions to the vessel. A holographic image of Pegasus’s surface appeared. It was exactly as it had appeared in Zamara and Jake’s mind. There was the enormous rock formation, looking like a hooved beast with wings. And there—

  The xel’naga temple. Zeratul forced himself to remain calm as he looked at it. He felt privileged in this moment, to behold such a thing. Luminous, glowing green, this was a wild temple, not a planned, structured, organized one such as the one on Shakuras. And yet Zeratul realized, temple indeed it was. S
omething marvelous and sacred and wonderful was to be found here.

  He gazed at it a moment longer, drinking in the sight as he might absorb nutrients from the cosmos, and feeling as nourished by the act. Then he mentally directed the ship to move closer. He would land and approach on foot. Answers were here, he knew it in his bones. He would—

  A bright white zigzag suddenly danced across the top of the temple, and with a thought Zeratul swerved away from it. What was going on? From a distance he watched unblinking as the crack spread across the surface, which was glowing even brighter than it had before. Zeratul suddenly recalled Zamara sharing the story of her death with him and Jacob. She had crashed her vessel into such a temple—but one that was a dull green-brown, not this radiant, vibrant green. Zamara had known by the color that—

  The energy creature. These temples were eggs—chrysalises. And Zeratul had arrived just in time to bear witness to the hatching of the being housed within. Perhaps that was what he had sensed—the urgency, the need to arrive soon before it was too late.

  He watched, enraptured, as the surface of the temple-chrysalis seemed to bow, straining against the white zigzag crack. Suddenly, it shattered, and Zeratul stared at something that was as far beyond his ken as his people must have been to the humans upon first contact.

  Beautiful. It was exquisitely, radiantly, gloriously beautiful. It burst through its shell as if propelled, this white, glowing entity of pure light and energy. It should have appeared hideous, displaying as it did tentacles, odd feathery wings, and enormous eyes that shone with a light so bright that Zeratul was forced to turn his head and close his own. But it was not hideous. It hovered over its discarded shell that even now was starting to dim and turn greenish brown, dancing in the air for a moment. Turning back to look at it through slitted eyes, Zeratul’s spirit soared. It was powerful; it was potentially lethal, and if it turned its terrible, wonderful attention upon him and destroyed him now, he would die in happiness.

  But the energy being, so new and fresh, had no concern for Zeratul. It hovered for a moment longer, then shot upward as if propelled, moving with a clear sense of purpose. For a precious second Zeratul was too startled to do anything, but he recovered swiftly and began to follow it.

  Home.

  More than something so simple, this moon was the site where Ulrezaj had first embraced his destiny. But like all things that birth one’s fate, this world had a hold upon him, and he had returned many times ere now.

  The unique manifestation of energies that had enabled Ulrezaj to begin his transformation, his becoming, had also necessitated that he return here when he was depleted. And so he had done over the last four years, a silent shadow slipping unnoticed into the deep waters of Ehlna’s ocean, settling downward until the surface light faded to darkness, only to find brightness again in the illumination of a cluster of glowing crystals.

  She was here already, the clever prey he hunted; somehow she had learned of Ehlna, of the Alys’aril, of the memories that could be housed here by means of research, skill, and intellect rather than a disturbing accident of birth. How Zamara had learned of the site he neither knew nor cared. In the end, it did not matter. The freakish preserver and the uncountable memories not her own would die, and the secret would be safe.

  If he could have closed his eyes in pleasure, he would have, at the sweet sensation of gathering strength and restoring himself. He would not be able to fully regain the energy that he had expended in the recent battle; he lacked the time. His enemies were right behind him. Ulrezaj knew well that it was not for him that the zerg had come, but for the same prey he himself sought. He could afford to linger only the barest amount of time, so that he could fight and destroy both Zamara and the zerg. Once that sweet goal had been achieved, then he could rest and enjoy the healing and peace a full restoration would bring.

  But ah, it was good, to begin to shed the weakness as he had shed his physical form. He would enjoy this.

  Thoughts were exchanged between the protoss so swiftly that Rosemary didn’t even have time to process them on a conscious level, but she got the gist of it. The Alys’aril was pretty much defenseless, at least to her and Selendis’s way of thinking. There was an energy shield that could be erected to protect the building and its precious contents from the devastation of weather or other environmental dangers, and in a pinch—which gosh, Rosemary supposed this was—the alysaar could augment the shield with their own mental abilities. Thoughts on how this would be accomplished were flying, and Rosemary winced from the speed and intensity of them.

  “Who’s attacking? What’s going on?” Rosemary demanded, trying to get at something she could understand.

  Selendis favored her with a quick glance. “Zerg.”

  Rosemary swore. “Same crew we fought on Aiur?”

  “It appears to be, yes.”

  “Can’t you call for help through the Khala?”

  “I have tried to do so. For some reason, I am unable to enter the Khala here.” Her mental voice betrayed some of the strain and frustration she was feeling.

  Several of the alysaar raced up to them, their robes fluttering as they ran. Terror poured off them, and their thoughts assaulted Rosemary: zerg, lots of them, and their leader wanted to speak to whoever was in charge.

  Mohandar was obviously outraged; fury roiled off him so thick Rosemary could almost see it. “Zerg. Here. Our most sacred space.” His eyes fell upon Rosemary, and there was accusation in that gaze. “You brought them here, human.”

  “We made the decision as a united people to come here, Mohandar,” Selendis said. Her words were quiet, but firm. “Even you agreed, knowing what might happen.”

  Rosemary couldn’t tell if Mohandar agreed. He had shuttered his thoughts from her, but she could tell he still seethed with anger.

  “This is your world,” Selendis continued quietly, permitting them all to hear the mental conversation. “Your people who are in danger. But I am the executor. With your permission, I will go to the zerg’s leader and speak for all our people.”

  Mohandar composed himself with a visible effort. “Go,” he said, surprising Rosemary and apparently also Selendis. “Razturul and I will see what can be done to protect this practically defenseless place. We will be in contact.”

  Selendis bowed and then began to race outside, to the courtyard that encircled the temple and the steep stone steps that led down from it. Rosemary followed her; Selendis did not protest. A heartbeat later, Vartanil followed them as well. Rosemary had to run flat out to keep up with Selendis’s long strides, then came to an abrupt stop and swung her rifle up in a single smooth motion.

  She had known there would be a lot of zerg, but here, pressed in so close around them and yet not attacking, there seemed to be an infinite number of them. But she had eyes only for one being—a humanoid, sitting astride what looked like an enormous flying serpent.

  Ethan.

  “Protoss!” came a strong masculine voice. Rosemary jerked as if stung. It was not a mental voice, not this time, and the sound of it shivered along her blood. “My queen does not desire your blood. We have come only for the preserver. Hand her over to us and we will leave you unharmed.”

  “Oh, come on,” Rosemary retorted. “We didn’t fall for that the last time; what makes you think we will now? There’s no way in hell you’ll just take what you want and go away.”

  Ethan turned and fixed his gaze on her, a slight smile, sickening in its familiarity, turning up his lips as he regarded her.

  “Actually, I’m not lying, Trouble,” Ethan drawled. “I really don’t care about anyone or anything that is here. I’ve come for Zamara. And I will have her, one way or another.”

  Rosemary closed one eye and peered through the sight on the rifle in response. She tightened her finger on the trigger. If they were all going to perish here, at least she’d take Ethan down with her this time.

  “No, Rosemary!” Selendis’s mental shout was so powerful that Rosemary gasped slightly. “The
re may be another way.”

  Slowly, Rosemary lowered the weapon and shot a glance at Selendis. She stood straight and tall, holding out her hand, palm up, toward the hovering figure.

  “I am Selendis, executor of the templar. And I tell you truly, if you attack this temple now, Zamara will perish!”

  Ethan was silent for a moment. Rosemary looked at the thousands of unblinking zerg eyes riveted on her. “Go on,” Ethan said at last. “And I will know if you are lying.”

  Rosemary wondered if that was true and thought it might be.

  “Zamara’s presence in Jacob’s body is killing him,” Selendis continued. “We are in the middle of a delicate attempt to extract her essence from him. If we succeed and can transfer Zamara’s essence to a specially prepared crystal, both Jacob and Zamara’s knowledge will survive. If you interrupt the ritual now, both will die and the information your queen seeks will be forever lost. I do not think you wish that.”

  Rosemary smothered a smirk. From Ethan’s silence, he most certainly did not wish that.

  “You are hopelessly outnumbered, Executor Selendis,” he said at last, his voice laced with contempt. “And even if these…monks who have been cloistered here for God knows how long can actually put up a fight, we will still triumph. You must know this.”

  “I do,” Selendis said quietly. Rosemary turned to look at her, narrowing her eyes slightly. She was familiar enough by now with how protoss mental abilities worked to recognize that Selendis had tightly shuttered her thoughts. Nothing was coming in or going out that she did not want to hear or be heard.

  I know as little as you, Rosemary Dahl, came Vartanil’s baffled thoughts.

  Ethan laughed harshly. “You will hand Zamara’s essence over to me then without a fight? How disappointing. My zerg want sport.”

  “They were given enough sport on our homeworld,” Selendis snapped, her glowing eyes flashing. “We desire no more bloodshed.”