“Indeed you are, and indeed it is. These memories are but a few years old, and they are my own. I thought I had made that clear.”
“No, but it’s a nice surprise.”
—the executor. “It was you who first found the probes, Executor. It is thanks to you that the zerg have not spread farther.”
“Perhaps, Zamara. But it is also thanks to me that every terran on this world is now dead.”
Jake waved a dismissive hand. “Unfortunate, but necessary. The zerg must be stopped. Extreme measures were demanded, the responsibilities of the Dae’Uhl notwithstanding.”
“I’d…forgotten how callous you were when we first met,” Jake muttered.
“I have not. But I am glad that my sentiments changed. Just as Tassadar’s did. We are not omniscient, infallible gods, Jacob. We know much—and preservers remember all that our race knows—but we still have much, much to learn.”
Tassadar touched one of the communication crystals and informed the Conclave that the mission had been accomplished.
“Well done, Executor,” said Aldaris, his imposing visage filling the holographic viewscreen. “It sounds like the first step was a complete success.”
“First step?” Tassadar asked.
“Of course. This is not the only planet in the system. We cannot afford to assume that the zerg would confine their efforts to a single world. You must investigate all possible sources of infestation and root them out. Then and only then may we consider our job accomplished.”
Jake kept her thoughts to herself. “Our job” indeed. It was Tassadar and the hundred-plus ships he commanded that had come to confront what could have been an attack. Aldaris and the others had taken an extreme position from the outset, and yet they were not the ones who had to do the deed. Still, that was how it had always been, since shortly after the Khala had been established.
Ever the obedient arm of the Conclave, Tassadar inclined his head. “As you wish. I will investigate the sister world to this one. And if it, too, is infested beyond hope, I shall destroy it.”
Aldaris hunched his shoulders in displeasure. “If it is infested at all, Executor, or is even likely to be infested, you shall obliterate it. We cannot afford to take any risks. Those are your orders.”
Before the conversation could continue, Aldaris had terminated it. Tassadar did not move for a moment.
Jake regarded the world before her, or rather, what was left of it. Incongruously beautiful smears of light pocked the planet, and Jake knew that the spikes of orange marked where the protoss purging of the infested world had gone deep into its heart, so deep that the planet’s magma had boiled to the surface. Some of these orange spikes marked where the terrans had had settlements. Some of them were far away from the terran population, but not the zerg. Eighty percent of the atmosphere was now gone.
“…I had friends there,” Jake said sickly.
“They would have become zerg. The infestation was irreversible.”
“Yeah…but still…to see this…wow.”
Tassadar gave the order to move to the sister planet of the one he had just destroyed. He kept his thoughts to himself, and Jake did not pry. Tassadar had been in the forefront arguing against the action he had just been ordered to take; it was to be expected that he would harbor regrets.
“Executor, we are detecting terran vessels.”
“I am not surprised, after what we have just done. Display.”
The crystal hummed and an image appeared before them. “Vessel is identified as Norad II, Colonel Edmund Duke in command. It is a Behemoth-class ship….”
Jake paid little attention as the statistics of the terran vessel were described. The protoss had long kept a watchful eye on the terrans; the Dae’Uhl, the “Great Stewardship,” demanded it. The protoss had watched this young race grow and expand, marveling at how they managed to thrive despite almost constantly attacking one another. It was the Dae’Uhl that Tassadar had cited when he had been ordered to utterly destroy Chau Sara. The protoss knew a great deal about terrans, their weaponry and ships, and what they were capable of. And while the Norad II was a powerful ship by terran standards, it was but a single vessel, and posed no real threat at all. It was a buzzing insect, easily swatted away.
Except Tassadar gave no order to do so.
“Executor?” queried the pilot. “Shall I destroy the terran ship?”
Jake watched both her friend and the vessel. It was moving quickly to intercept. No doubt it would begin attacking them as soon as it was within range.
“There are no other ships. It comes to its doom,” Tassadar said. Jake felt Tassadar’s respect and sorrow wash over her. “They are…courageous, these humans.”
“Sir? They are almost within range.”
Tassadar’s next words stunned everyone. “Deploy the subwarp field and give the order to retreat.”
Jake stared at her friend. “You are supposed to destroy Mar Sara, Tassadar. This ship is nothing to us.”
“No, it is not,” Tassadar said, “and you know well it is not fear that makes me choose this course of action.”
Jake nodded, slowly, as every ship in the powerful protoss fleet disappeared to human eyes, and sat back. And waited. And watched.
Jake opened his eyes and realized he was trembling. It was always profound, of course, when Zamara shared the memories she tended with him. And he knew he’d been privileged to see the actual unfolding of historic events that had shaped the protoss more than he could possibly grasp. But this—this was a moment out of his own history, not that of an alien’s. He’d been witness to the great cataclysmic event of his generation—hell, perhaps that of all humanity, ever. First contact with an alien race—two alien races, if you counted the zerg on Chau Sara, and he supposed he should count that.
Zamara’s detachment chilled him, even though he knew she had revised her opinion of terrans a great deal since she’d been hitchhiking inside one for so long. But he would have expected nothing less from the Zamara he had first met. Tassadar’s actions, however, did surprise him. He knew what it cost a templar emotionally to defy the Conclave.
Some of this I know, of course, he told Zamara. But it’s all been filtered through Dominion propaganda. It’s fascinating to see it from the other side.
Zamara chuckled, and gently commandeered his body to land the ship. There is more…so much more that you must see. I hope you can learn it from Zeratul himself. I do think we are in the right place.
Why are we setting down here? Not that Jake minded. The site Zamara had selected was a beautiful meadow high in the mountains, and Jake spied what appeared to be a makeshift shelter. The idyllic setting included a waterfall to complete a holo-card–perfect image, if one discounted that luscious pink sky. Hell, even that was starting to seem more perfect to Jake’s eyes than blue sky now.
I analyzed all the coordinates. Several sites were visited more than once. This one seems to be the most frequently inhabited by the original pilot of this vessel. It is a logical deduction that this is therefore the most likely site to encounter Zeratul, if it is indeed he who owns the ship.
And here I thought you picked it because it was scenic.
That is merely a pleasant coincidence.
Using Jake’s body, Zamara landed the ship gently. They disembarked and Jake closed his eyes and breathed the clean, soft air.
I’m beginning to see why Zeratul likes this place so much, he said. I had no idea human and protoss ideals of beauty were so similar.
I think this planet was selected not for aesthetic reasons but for practical ones. Zeratul was looking for a place to restore himself. Negative ions in the atmosphere, which produce a sensation of calm and well-being in both humans and in protoss, are increased by higher altitudes and proximity to moving water, especially waterfalls. And it has been established that rose hues are soothing and relaxing because of the vibration of the wavelength.
Jake shrugged. He just thought it was pretty.
We do admire be
auty and harmony as well, Jacob. We just desire it to be…useful as well as pleasant.
Dragging his eyes from the waterfall, he looked at the lean-to. It was rough, but functional, and appeared sturdy enough to protect its occupant from whatever weather might manifest. It seemed to be constructed of organic material—branches, vines, moss to seal out rain. Whoever built it didn’t care about privacy, but then again, this place seemed to be uninhabited.
His stomach rumbled. He was willing to bet the water was safe to drink, but he’d check to make sure. Rosemary had the Pig—more properly termed the Handheld Personal Information-Gathering and Navigation Unit, “HPIGNU,” conveniently shortened to the porcine abbreviation—so he’d have to rely on Zamara and whatever technology he could find here. Approaching the shelter, he found an oval metal box of some sort. He fiddled with it until it opened to his touch. Inside were all kinds of equipment.
Dark templar technology, Zamara said, her excitement plain.
Anything you recognize?
No, but I should again be able to intuit.
The sound of the rushing water was soothing, yes, but Jake realized he was parched. He’d found that barring something toxic in the soil or in something that swam in it, water was water, and generally just fine. Of course he’d always had the equipment to analyze it before. He took one of the alien pieces of equipment in each hand and went to stand beside the water, feeling the spray patter softly on his skin, and swallowed dryly.
Hurry up with that intuiting, Zamara, or else I’ll die of thirst before you figure it out.
But he didn’t. He lay down on the soft grass, purple-hued but comfortable, and peered up through a filter of leaves at clouds scudding past a pink sky. All the exhaustion he had staved off over the last several days seemed to descend on him at once.
Rest, Jacob. Rest and dream.
There could be no better guardian, and so, trusting her completely, Jake filled his lungs with the cleanest air he’d ever breathed, basked in the warm sunlight from an alien star, and obeyed.
“We have waited long enough,” Kerrigan stated.
“My queen, Ulrezaj has only been underground two days. He was obviously gravely injured by our attack. I am certain that once he is well enough to travel, he will lead us directly to Ramsey.”
“Who could be so far away by this point that we might never locate him again.” Kerrigan’s voice was icily angry. “Ramsey might be on Shakuras, he might be somewhere else entirely. He could be dead by now for all we know.”
Ethan had no reply; her words were the truth. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, even though she could not see the gesture.
“I obey your will, O my queen. What is it you would have me do?”
In his mind, he felt her smile, and his heart filled with longing. If only he could stand before her, see that expression of gleeful, hungry delight with his own eyes. Oh, how he adored her.
“Ulrezaj has fled to the chambers beneath the surface. I’m not sure what is down there, but it looked as though his only protection was that handful of protoss he had corrupted and enslaved. Most of them are gone—they either deserted him and fled with Ramsey or else they were killed in the battle. He’s weak now, and we could kill him easily.”
“But that is not your wish, is it?”
“No. But he does not know that. We will descend into the tunnels, a flood of zerg that he will not be able to stand against.” Her amusement grew. “We’ll light a fire under his glowing dark ass. Flush the quarry. And follow.”
“It shall be done.”
Ethan was Kerrigan’s general, and the zerg obeyed him as they would their queen, utterly and without question or pause. He had permitted them to forage, killing what they could to sustain themselves, or feasting on the carrion that was once living protoss, human, and even zerg. They came like dogs to heel, awaiting his command.
Mounted atop a mutalisk, Ethan led his monstrous troops steadily toward the entrance to the underground chambers where Ulrezaj, wounded and no doubt disheartened, had fled. He smiled slightly, his gaze lingering on them as they scuttled forward, shiny carapaces catching the sunlight, covering kilometers of earth with their undulating bodies while the air was thick with those who could fly.
The army reached the entrance and began to flow inside. Ethan was reminded of pouring water into vermin holes, to either drown the things in their burrows or flush them out. It was an amusing thought.
From her seclusion on Char, Kerrigan watched through the eyes of first one of her creatures, then another. The beauty of what she beheld in the labyrinth did not escape her, but the zergling whose brain she was temporarily hijacking cared nothing for it. This was obviously xel’naga technology, this blend of artifice and nature that yawned deep into the bowels of Aiur. It was not the first time she had seen this; she had been here before. Not in this particular section, to be sure, as the place was staggeringly vast, but beneath the surface of this world, and there was at least a little familiarity mixed in with her admiration.
The zergling hurried along with its fellows, pressed tightly together, filling the stairwell, then exploding into a cavern. Kerrigan noted jeweled control systems and panels and desiccated bodies, with slight interest. It looked as though they had been drained—sucked utterly dry of fluids and life force both. Did Ulrezaj feed on his little sycophants? That might explain how he continued to exist, rather than dissolving after a brief time as was customary with ordinary dark archons. And if he did drain the protoss, and he was as badly wounded as she had hoped, then he might have gotten rid of any resistance her zerg might encounter for her.
Five oval doorways opened onto five different corridors and the zerg stopped in their tracks, awaiting orders. Kerrigan’s first thought was to tell them to simply follow the protoss scent, but if Ulrezaj was clever, he could have dispersed his followers in anticipation of just such an assault. Kerrigan shrugged and her wings flexed, the sharp bits of bones clawing momentarily at the air.
“Split into five groups. Investigate all passageways. Kill all protoss you encounter.”
They obeyed immediately, gracefully forming five branching streams of the flooding river, moving implacably forward. Kerrigan flitted from mind to mind, seeing everything simultaneously and filtering it all as it was necessary. She sat, clawed hands grasping the arms of the towering thronelike chair, chitinous and organic and honeycombed, which she had had wrought for herself. Her glowing eyes stared into a gloomy, sullen red darkness and saw something else light-years away.
In two of the corridors, protoss rushed forward, some with the remnants of templar armor on their bodies, some clad in tattered robes. Another time, Kerrigan would have been amused at how swiftly they fell, but now their deaths held little pleasure for her, only irritation. Where was the dark archon?
In two other corridors, her creatures surged on unopposed. The technology they passed was startling. In some places there were glowing inscriptions on the walls. Her creatures rushed past too quickly for her to even attempt to read the language. So much here to plunder, to learn, to absorb that would enhance the zerg. Another time, Kerrigan promised herself, she would explore it at leisure, for she was certain that all kinds of useful tidbits of information were hidden here. But for now, there was one single goal.
She knew she was close when she came upon desiccated husks littering the floors. No neatly organized bodies on slabs here, no. Although they looked almost mummified, as if centuries of aridity had taken their toll, the carelessness with which they had been tossed aside told her that they had died recently, their essences drained to serve their master. Her clawed hands tightened in excitement and she smiled.
“This way,” she said, rerouting her mindless minions to follow the trail.
They came upon him then in a vast cavern glittering with crystals, and she told her army to halt. They did so with an abruptness that caused several of them to barrel into one another, unable to halt their forward momentum so quickly. Kerrigan hungrily drank her fil
l, waiting, watching, ready to react to the dark archon’s next move.
Here in a place where the only illumination was the eerie, otherworldly glow of the khaydarin crystals, Ulrezaj’s presence was more like an absence of light, an absence of…being…than an actual physical thing as he had been on the planet’s surface. All light seemed to be absorbed by him, save for a shimmering green glow that provided the unnatural thing’s outline. It pulsed, as if he was breathing, although Kerrigan was willing to bet that it did nothing so mundane.
For a long time, Ulrezaj did not move. Kerrigan’s servants stood still as well, although waving antennae and the occasional snap of mandibles betrayed that the zerg were closer to living things than the entity they confronted.
“Do something,” Ethan muttered, fidgeting aboard the mutalisk.
“Do something,” growled Kerrigan, light-years away, staring straight at Ulrezaj.
He did.
It was almost like a nuclear blast of darkness. Absence of light poured off the dark archon, and every zerg within its radius collapsed without a sound. It took Kerrigan by surprise as the zergling whose eyes she used died so abruptly the Queen of Blades almost didn’t realize what had happened. She recovered quickly, selecting another one, and then that one died too, and the next one.
It was happening so fast she couldn’t even monitor it. She brushed the mind of her general, whispering, “Tell them to withdraw. It is all up to you now, my consort. He is coming.”
Except he wasn’t.
To Kerrigan’s astonishment and outrage, the dark archon simply winked out of existence. He was gone, leaving only carcasses to mark that he had ever been there.
“No!” she shrieked, leaping up from her throne. She’d been a fool. Ulrezaj was powerful and intelligent, an entity that was unprecedented in the history of the universe as far as she could tell. She could not have anticipated that he would teleport…but she should have anticipated that he might have unusual abilities. Faster almost than the speed of thought, her awareness flitted from zerg to zerg, searching each of the four other branching paths. Ulrezaj was nowhere to be seen.
StarCraft: Dark Templar: Twilight Page 6
