Rosemary frowned. What the hell was Selendis playing at? She knew that the knowledge harbored at the Alys’aril was invaluable to the protoss. Maybe it was more important than the information Zamara bore. While Rosemary would be quite happy if her life and Jake’s were spared, she wasn’t sure she thought this was a good trade. Selendis turned to regard her, but with her thoughts so closed, Rosemary could not read the glance.
Was Selendis really going to sell Zamara out?
Ethan waved a hand airily. One of his extra scythe-arms emulated the gesture. “I will wait. I can kill you later as easily as now, if it comes to that.”
Selendis inclined her head. “Thank you,” she said. “Rosemary—Vartanil—let us return to Krythkal and see how he progresses.”
“On one condition,” Ethan continued.
Here it comes, Rosemary thought, and tensed.
“Your story sounds plausible and feels true. I believe you about the ritual. But what’s to stop you from suddenly changing your mind and absconding with both of them once it’s completed? No, I think I need verification along with my trust.”
Selendis was still, even now, radiating calm. “What do you need to be satisfied?”
“I’d like to have one of my zerg watch this little ritual you describe. And when it’s complete, you will give it the crystal that contains Zamara.”
Rosemary bit back a retort quite literally, chomping down on her lower lip rather than snapping “Like hell” or another such comment. She couldn’t give the game away—whatever the game was. She had to trust Selendis now.
“I cannot think that having a zerg present while a sacred protoss ritual is transpiring will help us achieve the desired result,” Selendis said sharply.
Ethan shrugged. “It will not attack unless attacked first. And come now, Executor, you would do the same in my position. A witness, to prove what you say is true and take delivery of something you have agreed to provide. Surely that’s not too much to ask.”
Selendis nodded. “It is an understandable precaution on your part, yes. But your creature must do nothing to interfere, or Zamara and Jake will be forever lost to both of us.”
“Agreed. He’ll be a good boy. Or girl. I’m not sure exactly which. Oh…and if you double-cross me…well, Trouble, you’ll be the first to die.”
Ethan made no gesture, but suddenly one of the creatures waiting silently began to undulate toward them, slithering up the steps, its scythe-arms bobbing in front of it as it moved. Rosemary fought the impulse to shoot the hydralisk on the spot, instead feeling a rare wave of fear wash over her at its approach. It towered over her, slaver dripping from its jaws, then came to a halt in front of Selendis, utterly obedient to its master.
Confused, alarmed, and furious, Rosemary gave Ethan another glance. He met her gaze, and the face that was still recognizable as his twisted into a smirk of victory. She ground her teeth and forced herself to accompany Selendis and the zerg inside.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked as they hastened up the long, broad steps to the heart of the temple.
Selendis favored her with a brief glance. I am buying us time. The thought was for her only, and Rosemary closed her mouth and tried to “speak” only with her own thoughts in turn.
That bit about Jake and Zamara dying—that was a lie?
No. It is my understanding that the ritual cannot be stopped at this juncture without the loss of both parties. Krythkal must be permitted to complete his task.
What about our new best friend here?
Selendis glanced back at the zerg, which slithered along behind them, its silent pacifism almost more chilling than an outright attack. There was no alternative. Ethan was correct—I would have done the same thing. For the moment, there is no harm in it watching. And even now, no one is certain that the ritual will be successful.
Rosemary didn’t need to be reminded of that. Oddly, though, despite the peril they were all in at this point, she felt relieved at being able to do something rather than simply sit around and wait.
It is difficult, to feel helpless, Selendis agreed. I would prefer that Ethan had not come…but yes. I understand how you feel.
Rosemary shot the executor a quick glance. For all their differences, for all her alienness, Selendis did share that same pleasure at being finally able to act.
A few moments later, Rosemary, Selendis, Vartanil, Mohandar, and Razturul were cloistered with Ataldis, the alysaar who was in charge while Krythkal was conducting the separation rite. They all stared at the hydralisk, who turned its hideous head to first one of them then the next, peering at them with yellow eyes through which Rosemary assumed Ethan saw. None of them seemed surprised, although they seemed frightened and unhappy; Rosemary assumed Selendis had warned everyone that they were bringing a friend along.
Selendis was brutally blunt—another thing Rosemary liked about her. “We cannot hope to win an out-and-out battle against the zerg,” she said the moment she had everyone’s attention. Again, Rosemary knew she was directing her thoughts so that the eavesdropping hydralisk wouldn’t understand. “We are outnumbered quite literally a hundred to one. Nor do we have superior technology on hand that might even the odds. It is distasteful to me to say this, as a warrior, but if we fight, we will die, and they will take Zamara.”
Vartanil thought the protoss equivalent of swallowing hard and turning pale. Rosemary frowned slightly, but nodded. “So—we’re not going to fight?”
Selendis turned fiercely glowing eyes upon the terran. “Some of us will. And we who choose to fight, will die. But others, and the knowledge of this sacred place, may be able to continue on.”
A flicker of approval from Mohandar. “You have at least one vessel that can bear some of us to safety,” he said. “Is this your plan?”
“Partially. Some protoss, and as many of the memory crystals as can be salvaged. But first, I must know. Are there other vessels we can utilize?” Selendis asked, turning to Ataldis.
The alysaar hesitated. “We do not leave the Alys’aril, we who tend to it,” he said. “Others come to us. We do not go to them.”
“So that’s a no?” Rosemary asked.
“Not precisely. We do have vessels, from the time when Ehlna was first settled. I do not know if they are even functional anymore. There is no one here who has the knowledge of repairing the vessels.”
“I think I could.”
“You? You are not even protoss!”
“I helped Zamara repair the warp gate on Aiur,” Rosemary shot back. “She was in my thoughts. I know a lot about the simple physical mechanics of things and more than a little now about how your technology works. At least give me a crack at it.”
“You shall have a chance to examine it,” Selendis said. When Ataldis bridled slightly, she added, “The hour is desperate, Ataldis. If Rosemary can help us, more lives and more knowledge can be saved. We must allow her to try.”
Ataldis nodded, though he was still obviously unhappy. “Come then,” he said. “I will take you to the vessels.”
“I will accompany you,” said Mohandar.
As Rosemary, Ataldis, and Mohandar started to leave, the hitherto silent zerg snarled and whipped out a scythe-arm, blocking their path. Rosemary looked up—and up, the thing was enormous—and stared into its baleful yellow eyes.
“You’ve got your eyewitness, Ethan,” she growled. “I’m leaving this room. You tell it to kill me, they kill it and you don’t get Zamara. You can either send it to follow me around or go watch the separation ritual like you wanted it to. Either way, I’m going.”
The thing hesitated, the eyes narrowing. Rosemary stood stock still as the zerg extended a hooked appendage and, very gently, stroked her cheek before turning back to gaze at Selendis. The executor pivoted and moved purposefully toward the room where Krythkal was conducting the ritual. The zerg followed.
Rosemary shivered as she watched it, not with fear, not this time, but with hatred. She hoped she’d have a chance to kill Et
han Stewart herself.
At any other time, Rosemary would have been ecstatic to get her hands on such antique alien vessels. She’d have spent many pleasant hours tinkering with them and learning, trying this, adjusting that.
She didn’t have hours. She wasn’t sure she even had an hour, and stared, simultaneously enraptured and horrified, at the ancient ship before her. There were only three of them total, and only one that was capable of anything other than atmospheric travel. They were oddly huge and clunky-looking compared to every other protoss vessel she’d seen before, even the bulkier dark templar ones. They had been kept in a special room below the main grounds of the temple, and Rosemary was willing to bet a million credits that no one had been down here in the last century. They had been covered, at least, for which she was grateful, but even so they were dusty and ominously still-looking.
“When we were exiled from Aiur,” Mohandar said, “the Conclave initially resisted giving us any vessels at all other than the single xel’naga ship. Adun insisted that we have some, that we might be able to travel and explore any worlds we happened upon. Fortunately it seems as though our ancestors left a few here with us when the majority departed for other worlds.”
“Yeah, fortunately,” said Rosemary hesitantly. She took a step up to one and touched it, feeling the cool metal beneath her fingers. She peered inside. Yes, there was a crystal there, but it was dark.
“What do you think, Rosemary?” asked Vartanil, slipping up beside her and looking down at her hopefully. “You can repair it, can’t you?”
“I’m not sure. Is there a protoss who can assist me on this?”
Vartanil ducked his head shyly. “I am a Furinax,” he said. “I have not personally constructed any vessels, but I do understand the mechanisms of how such things work.”
Rosemary smiled at him. He was not a warrior, like Selendis, nor a politician, like Mohandar, nor a priest, like Krythkal. Vartanil was a humble craftsman—a worker. And that was exactly what was needed now. She was very glad he was here. She again looked at the console, remembering how she had manipulated things when she had shared thoughts with Zamara. “Then get in the driver’s seat and we’ll see if this thing has any juice left in it at all,” Rosemary said.
He nodded, touching the metal cautiously with his four-fingered hand. It had done nothing when Rosemary had done so earlier, but now, under the hand of a protoss, the door lurched slightly, then with a series of jerks slid open. Rosemary and Vartanil exchanged triumphant glances. The young Furinax slipped inside and touched the crystal.
Nothing.
Rosemary mentally swore. “Try it again,” she said. Vartanil hesitated, then obeyed. And this time, suddenly, the crystal came to life for a brief second. Purple illumination chased itself around the console and she felt—there was no other way to explain it—the ancient ship come to life for just a moment.
“Well done, Rosemary,” came Selendis’s mental voice.
Rosemary turned to Selendis, pleased that the executor had witnessed her triumph, confused as to why she was here. “I thought you were with Ethan’s little friend?”
“I escorted it to the room, but it does not need to be watched. Ethan would not be foolish enough to permit the hydralisk to kill anyone. He has too much at stake.”
Rosemary was forced to agree. Ethan ever looked out for himself.
“I think the crystal might need to be replaced,” she continued, “but from what I know about how your ships function, everything else I can get up and running. I’m sure of it.”
She let herself enjoy the sensations of pleasure wafting off the protoss for a moment, but then Selendis was all business again.
“This is very good news. We will soon have a second operative vessel. While it is true that Ethan has many zerg here under his command, their number is not infinite. If we can reach Shakuras in time, we can bring in reinforcements, and they will certainly fall beneath a protoss assault.”
That much was inarguably true. Also true was the fact that in order to get to the warp gate, whoever took that ship would have to get past zerg piled six thick all around the Alys’aril, both on the ground and in the air. Which was pretty much suicide.
“I will take the vessel we arrived in and—”
“No.” Razturul’s interruption was blunt, almost rude. “I will go, Executor. I am a skilled pilot, and you are needed here.”
“I am a trained warrior,” Selendis protested. “It is my duty—”
“Let us not pretend that this attempt to gather reinforcements is likely to succeed,” said Razturul evenly. “You are more necessary to the survival of our people than I, Executor. Too…the Alys’aril is a sacred site to the dark templar. Long have we revered and striven to keep it safe and secret. I would ask for the honor of attempting to defend it at what may be its final hour.”
Rosemary peered at Razturul. She hadn’t been overly fond of the dark templar. He’d been brusque and treated her roughly when she and the other Aiur protoss had stumbled through the warp gate. She hadn’t been pleased to learn that he was to accompany them. And yet now he was insisting on undertaking a mission that made the word “risky” seem like a walk in the park.
“Razturul is right,” said Mohandar. “You are a strategist, Selendis. He is a dark templar warrior. Let him undertake this mission.”
Still Selendis hesitated. “The human and Vartanil can repair this ship,” Razturul continued. “Use it to take the crystals and flee once the ritual is complete. I will go and do my utmost to bring reinforcements.” His eyes half closed and he tilted his head to the side, laughing a little. “Besides, who knows? I might elude them after all, and bring honor to my people by saving you, Executor.”
“Who knows indeed,” Selendis said, and with those words, Rosemary knew the executor had given her consent. What Razturul said was possible, sure.
But not likely.
She knelt and unpacked the small kit she’d brought with her, reaching for the tools, and looked up at Vartanil. She’d had enough of protoss farewells, and did not want to watch as Razturul made his. Vartanil nodded his understanding, and Rosemary turned her attention to the dusty relic of a vessel, preferring to focus on a centuries-old machine than a being who would be dead inside of an hour.
“We might all be dead inside of an hour,” Vartanil reminded her.
“Shut up and touch the crystal again,” Rosemary growled. It didn’t make her feel better that everyone present saw through her façade of indifference as she started to work.
CHAPTER 20
ROSEMARY GOT THE NEWS THE MOMENT IT happened.
She had been lying beneath the ancient vessel, her hands and face and leather clothes luminescent with crystal dust instead of greasy with oil, when Razturul sent his farewell.
For a split second, she saw what he did: the sea of zerg roiling beneath him, the cloud of them descending from the air and all sides. The ground was rushing up to meet her: The ship was falling out of the sky. And then nothing.
She also knew, although she had not seen it, that Razturul had been mere minutes from making it to the portal. He had led them on a good chase, had the dark templar. And he’d almost made it.
“Rosemary?” The thought was from Vartanil, and she saw him now through blurred vision as he bent and peered underneath the ship. His concern wafted over her, comforting her, and she dragged a hand over her face quickly.
“Got some of this damn dust in my eyes,” she said, although of course she knew he knew it was a lie. “Get back in the cockpit and let’s keep going.”
Damn the protoss anyway, and damn herself for giving a rat’s ass about them. And about Jake for that matter. What the hell was she doing here when—
The light was unexpected and elicited a sudden whoop of delight from her. The ship purred, a pleasant sound, as it awakened like a cat from a nap in a sunny window. Excitement and pride emanated from Vartanil as he gleefully sent to Selendis, “Rosemary has done it! The vessel is operational!”
> “That is excellent news,” came the executor’s response. “And I am told that the ritual is about to finish. They are cautiously optimistic, although—”
The cool words were suddenly drowned by a rush of emotion, quickly quelled. Rosemary’s heart lurched as a single word came to her: “Ulrezaj.”
He was here. Somehow, damn him, the thing had found them. Information inserted itself into Rosemary’s mind: He was here, he had again grown strong and powerful, and he was heading directly for the Alys’aril. Rosemary didn’t need to be telepathic to know what that meant. Ethan, at least, seemed to want Zamara alive—at least as alive as someone could be when their essence had been transferred to a khaydarin crystal. And he was cruel enough to leave the alysaar and all the others, including and likely especially her, alive to dwell on their failure once his hydralisk had gotten the prize.
Ulrezaj, though, had nothing to hinder him. He had come to destroy Zamara and likely everything and everyone else along with her.
Ethan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A frantic flicker crossed his mind: The thing’s unstoppable. But that was nonsense. Nothing was unstoppable. He’d seen with his own augmented eyes that Ulrezaj could be wounded. Hell, his zerg had been part of it. Kerrigan had predicted that the dark archon would lead Ethan to Zamara, and of course his adored queen had been correct. What she had not predicted was that this place would also enable the nearly-destroyed Ulrezaj to recover so fully. And so quickly.
It was as if the battle on Aiur had never happened. Ulrezaj moved toward them, a roiling absence of light, as if the combined forces of protoss, terrans, and zerg had not come close to dispatching him. It was déjà vu…except for one thing. This time there would be no protoss psionic storms to slow his approach. Dark lightning sizzled and crackled about him as he came on.
Quickly Ethan looked through the eyes of his hydralisk. They had not permitted the zerg to enter the room, of course; but the creature was observing through an open door. Two protoss stood on either side of the door. They were unarmed; these were scholars, not fighters, but they were guards nonetheless. Briefly, he considered sending a second zerg to find out what Rosemary was up to, but then decided against it. If they tricked him, he could find her quickly enough.
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