The alysaar exchanged glances; probably they were communicating among themselves. Then they nodded, put down the boxes, and hastened off.
"How are our friends the zerg doing on the front?" she asked Vartanil wryly, scooting back underneath the vessel.
"Not well," Vartanil admitted. "He moves through them as inexorably as shadow moves at twilight, slowly, steadily, and unable to be held at bay. He has paused, for the moment, but I do not think he will be thwarted for much longer. Ethan has sent several dozen zerglings away from the attack; they sit at the base of the stairs, silent and still."
"Damn it. He's going to storm the temple and get Jake!"
"But he knows that the ritual is still going on," Vartanil replied, puzzled.
"Yeah, but he knows as well as we do that if Ulrezaj gets here first, it won't matter if the ritual's done or not. I know how he thinks."
Rosemary felt a tremor beneath her body. More powdery crystal residue drifted, soft as snowfall, on her face. She didn't need to ask what had caused it.
Ulrezaj was approaching on the Alys'aril.
Just a little time. Time to finish this and get out of here with Jake. Jake, you had damn well better make it. That's all I've got to say.
The earth rumbled again, more strongly. This time Rosemary heard something in the ancient vessel rattle. Sweat dotted her forehead, turning the crystal powder into a paste. She couldn't take it any longer. Growling, she scooted out from under the vessel and leaped to her feet, absently dusting off the glowing crystal residue as she seized her rifle from where it was propped up against the wall and raced toward the door of this makeshift hangar.
"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.