Shadow Hunters (27 page)

Jake reached out to try to touch their minds, but they were shuttered to him. Through the circle of pro-toss that protected him, he stared at the others, their faces composed, their minds unavailable to him, and wondered if they would even give him a chance to explain things.

One of them stepped forward. “Alzadar, it is good to see you alive and wel. And you have brought us the preserver. The Xava’tor wil be pleased.”

Before Jake could even form a coherent thought, Alzadar had stepped away from the other protoss and stood before his leader. He was tal and straight, his head high, and Jake realized that even if he hadn’t known Alzadar had been a templar, he would have pegged him as one.

“I am alive, but not wel, Felanis. For I have beheld the atrocities committed by the one we cal a benefactor.”

Jake’s mind was suddenly filed with the images they had recently seen—the mysterious tanks in the crystal chamber, the desiccated corpses of former Tal’darim.

He realized what Alzadar had done—shared that image with the rest of the Forged.

Some of them stil guarded their reactions, foremost among them the seemingly implacable Felanis. Others seemed stunned, and he realized that even the Xava’kai hadn’t known the end results of their labor on the Xava’tor’s behalf.

Alzadar suddenly stumbled back, reeling as if from a physical blow. “You—knew,”

he said. “Felanis—you knew al along what Ulrezaj was!”

Some of the Forged shifted uneasily, while others ducked back, literaly recoiling in horror. So unsettled were they that they broadcast their thoughts rather than directing them privately.

“These images that Alzadar shows us … it is true then?” one of them cried.

“An archon comprised of the souls of dark templar? Those we shunned and cast out?”

Jake wondered if the betrayed Forged would turn on their leader. Felanis appeared completely unconcerned. He drew himself up to his ful height. Jake felt dwarfed by him, and even the other protoss standing beside him, al except Alzadar, looked diminished. When he spoke, he addressed not those who had asked the questions, but Alzadar himself.

“Ulrezaj is not a monster, but a demigod. He offered me the power to save myself and those who folowed me. Who folowed him, who understood his vision and believed in it. Ulrezaj and the being he serves are stronger than you can possibly imagine.”

“Whoa, whoa—Ulrezaj has a boss?” exclaimed Rosemary, looking alarmed.

“The Sundrop has made us slaves to the very worst the dark templar represent!”

Alzadar cried. “And I wil not turn over a preserver to him—or to you!”

In his mind, Jake heard the silent command:
Go. Many of them are as stunned and
sickened as I am. I will do all I can to convince them to turn on Felanis. I will
hold them off—for as long as I may. Get Zamara to safety.

Jacob, there is another way out—let me lead! And to everyone else, she sent, Behind us—we wil retreat. Half of you stay here and assist Alzadar. He has earned our aid.

Zamara surged into Jake’s mind. As if the movements were choreographed, half of the Shel’na Kryhas whirled around and, using only their powerful bodies, attacked the startled Forged, who initialy seemed too stunned to block their passage. Jake and Rosemary folowed as they fled back the way they had come, racing through rooms that no longer appeared enticingly mysterious or beautiful but now seemed like an elaborately laid trap. Explorer though he was, he’d seen enough of this place.

He’d seen too much of it. Al he wanted to do was jump into the smal protoss ship, take off, land at the warp gate, and head to Shakuras. The horrible, otherworldly wailing sound continued, and Jake’s head throbbed to its beat. Oh, God, it hurt.

They were pursued. More protoss dropped back to fight the Forged, buying Jake and Rosemary precious time. Jake was in good shape, but the protoss were faster, and it both moved and irritated him that they slowed their pace so some could bring up the rear. Rosemary was running flat out, her rifle clutched in her hands. He took the stairs two at a time, folowing Ladranix as they raced toward the surface, to the little ship that was—

—melted.

Jake almost slammed into Ladranix as he stumbled to a halt, peering past the suddenly stil protoss to stare, disbelieving, at the pile of steaming metal and ichor that had once been a protoss ship.

Jacob!

Jake tore his eyes from the vessel to see what the protoss saw. Dozens—no, hundreds—of zerg covered the area. They were frighteningly silent; silent, so that no one could have heard them from down below and been warned to their presence.

Numbly, Jake’s eyes roved over the carpet of insectoid, monstrously quiet forms.

They stared back at him with souless black eyes, some with more than two in what passed for heads. Antennae and multiple limbs waved as the zerg waited.

They were beasts brought to heel, dogs obeying a master. Yet that wasn’t right; they hadn’t been much more than wandering creatures, now and then turning on the protoss, more for sport than anything else. But not anymore.

Which meant that they were being controled and directed. But who—

“Oh, damn it to hel,” snapped Rosemary, breaking the awful stilness. “You again.

Thought I’d kiled you, you bastard.”

“And helo to you too, Trouble,” came a smooth, rich, cultured voice. A voice Jake had thought forever silenced. He turned from the zerg to stare at their master.

Ethan Stewart.

IT WAS—AND YET IT WASN’T—ETHAN. THE FORM that stood before Jake bore Ethan’s features, but in every other respect he looked more kin to the creatures he commanded. Jake felt the blood drain from his face as he realized that Ethan must have somehow been infested, and yet not been completely subverted. His skin was gray-green, his head bald and smooth, and he had two too many arms. The extra appendages culminated in scythelike blades that twitched as if itching for something to slice in half.

Ethan threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve led us on a merry chase, both of you,” he said. Jake could hardly believe that ice-cream-smooth voice was issuing from that being. It seemed more wrong than Ethan’s extra limbs or green skin or—

yeah, those were scales down his back, Jake was pretty sure.

“ ‘Us’?” Rosemary chalenged. Her rifle was up and trained on him. “And don’t worry, this time I won’t stop firing until I’m sure you’re dead.”

“Us,” Ethan confirmed. “My queen and myself. She’s very anxious to make your acquaintance. Both of you. She sent me to come fetch you and bring her before you.”

The guy’s in love,
Jake realized with a sick jolt. There was something in Ethan’s voice, a slight catch—Jake knew a smitten man when he heard him. Stewart had never spoken in that tone of voice about or to Rosemary.

“But don’t worry, Trouble. Despite the fact that you tried to murder me, and although my heart now belongs to her, I made her promise to leave you out of this. That is, if the professor cooperates.”

The mutated but stil oddly handsome—stil oddly human—face turned to Jake.

“How about it, Professor? I’l spare Rosemary and al your little protoss friends if you come along without a fight.”

To his surprise, Jake found himself laughing. “I don’t know who this queen of yours is, but anything that controls the zerg, or frankly, you, I don’t trust as far as I can throw.”

It was what the protoss had been waiting for—Jake’s answer. He saw them ready themselves for combat, dropping into battle position, bringing weapons up, and then waiting, motionless, for the moment to explode into deadly, beautiful motion.

Jacob … you will not win this one. There are hundreds of zerg.

I know.
He was surprised at how calm he felt.
And I know what you have to do. I
only wish I knew what this secret was.

I am sorry it must end so. I know this queen he speaks of, and she will use my
knowledge to her own ends.

Jake lifted his weapon, a single pistol. It seemed so pitifuly, patheticaly tiny. But it was al he had.
Do what you have to do, Zamara. I’m ready.

At that moment, several dozen zerg exploded. A horrible stench of ichor and feces filed the air, and liquids and soft pulpy bits rained down on them. Jake instinctively ducked and covered his head.

“What the—” His first thought was that somehow Those Who Endure had rounded up more ships, but when he risked a quick glance skyward he recognized the vessels as Dominion. Even as he put two and two together, he heard a voice inside his head.

After speaking telepathicaly with protoss for so long, this contact seemed graceless and labored.

My name is Devon Starke. I work for Valerian. We’ve come to help you.

Help me? Valerian was going to kill me!

That was a dreadful misunderstanding. His Excellency knew nothing about
your captivity until the Gray Tiger was discovered adrift in space, its crew
dead.

In the Khala, Jake knew, no one could lie. But even among the protoss, one could lie with thoughts. And humans certainly could. Jake thought an angry, ancient Anglo-Saxon word and lifted his pistol. Rosemary and the other protoss were already attacking the zerg. Ethan had been completely distracted by the abrupt appearance of the Dominion vessels, and al was chaos.

I understand your doubt, but would you rather die at the hands of the zerg? You
know that is the only other possible outcome. Let us send you a ship.

Jacob.
Zamara’s thoughts overrode Starke’s.
Tell him you agree.

What?

Do it! Tell him to send a vessel large enough for all of us. Don’t waste time
negotiating anything else. Trust me!

Jake did trust Zamara, even though she had hijacked his brain and body, even though what she was doing to him was likely going to kil him. The protoss were the most honorable people he had ever known, and Zamara’s integrity shone like a beacon.

He sensed that she knew exactly what she was doing. And so he obeyed.

All right. Send down a ship that’s big enough for me and the protoss. We’re all
getting out of here alive.

Done. We will clear an area for the ship to land.

Starke kept his word on that, at least. The strafing attacks narrowed to a smal area, and within seconds a landing strip was created.

If it were not for the distraction caused by the terran ships, Jake mused, his friends would al be dead by this point and he would be in the tender-loving care of Ethan Stewart and his zerg pets. Even as it was, they were having a tough time holding off the waves that came at them. After his halfhearted attempt to get Jake to submit without a fight, Ethan was nowhere to be seen, and even as she fired, Rosemary muttered curses against her former lover.

There were several bright glints in the sky, denoting ships taking the battle off-planet.

Two of the glints grew brighter and larger and, sure enough, a battle-cruiser and a dropship came into view, surrounded by fighters, which took most of the damage.

The battle-cruiser landed first, disgorging its contents of siege tanks and marines in ful combat gear. The dropship folowed. Slowly, it settled down on the uneven, rocky soil. The door slid open and more marines spiled out, firing as they came. The air was filed with the outraged shrieks and squeals of dying zerg and the rat-a-tat sounds of automatic weapons fire.

“Let’s go!” Jake yeled. “Everyone in!”

Firing as they went, Jake, Rosemary, and the pro-toss raced for the vessel. Jake had no idea what Zamara’s plan was, but she clearly had one. Did she truly think Valerian could be trusted? Was the whole thing realy just, as the telepath who had to be a ghost had whispered in his thoughts, a misunderstanding?

Jake darted inside and swore silently. The ship was indeed large enough to accommodate al the protoss, but only just. They crowded in, pressing in close, packed so tightly they could barely breathe. Flattened against a wal, Jake waited for the plan to reveal itself. A second later, it did. The instant after the last protoss had wedged himself into the dropship, Rosemary hit a control and the doors slammed shut. The pilot glanced back, frowning, and was about to make some kind of protest when his face impacted with the butt end of Rosemary’s rifle. Jake winced as the man’s nose crunched under the metal and he toppled out of his seat. He could not get used to this violence. But even so, he was proud of Rosemary for not simply shooting the pilot. Perhaps she was melowing.

She grabbed the unconscious man by the shirt, hauled him off, and slid into the seat.

“Hang on, everyone,” she yeled. The ship took off. Jake grabbed onto the back of a seat; Rosemary’s liftoff wasn’t the smoothest he’d seen from her.

“It’l take ’em a couple of minutes to figure out we’ve hijacked the ship, and until then I’m playing along. But once they catch on … wel, you better hang on.”

It was one of the most incongruous things Jake had ever seen—eighteen protoss completely out of their element, crammed into the terran space vessel. They looked sorely out of place, like a crystal on a junk heap.

“We got company,” Rosemary said. “That was fast. Valerian doesn’t want to lose you again, Professor.” Jake peered at the console. Sure enough, already six Wraiths had floated in to virtualy enclose them—on each side, in front of and behind them, and one below and above them.

“Hang on,” Rosemary said, and two seconds later Jake and the protoss were tossed about as she forcefuly slammed into the Wraith on their left.

“Rosemary, what—” Anything else Jake might have said was silenced as she again rammed one of the smal, one-man fighters.