"Twilight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Голдэн Кристи)

CHAPTER 2

JAKE RAN TOWARD THE MISTY SWIRL THAT was the center of the warp gate and, overriding his instincts, didn't slow as he raced through. It was suddenly very dark, and then suddenly very bright, and very cold, and the ground beneath him was very slick, and his feet shot out from under him.

He tried to roll and would have succeeded, had the surface upon which he attempted said roll not been ice. As it was he hit the ice hard, slid wildly along its length, and found himself in a pile of snow.

I thought Shakuras was a sort of desert, he thought irritatedly to Zamara as he stumbled to his feet, floundering in the snow that reached his thighs rather than attempting to rise on the ice.

It is, came the maddeningly unruffled reply. We are not on Shakuras.

Jake shivered as the wind knifed him. When he ran through the gate, he'd been sweating heavily from the clammy heat of the Aiur climate, exertion and, yes, nerves, and now he was feeling his soaked clothing actually begin to freeze to his skin. He folded his arms tightly around himself. Where the hell are we then, what went wrong, and what do we do now?

Jake squinted against the brightness of sunlight reflecting off of snow, turning to look in every direction. The only thing he could see in the arctic landscape was snow, more snow, and for a little variety what looked like icebergs over there. The gate was the only evidence that an advanced intelligence had ever been to this place.

Ido not know where we are, and it does not matter. As for what happened, I have, as you humans would call it, a "hunch."

She asked him to surrender his body to her will for a moment, and he obliged, marveling quietly as she moved his legs securely across the slippery surface and lifted his arms to touch the softly glowing surface of the gate. The cold receded, just a bit, as Jake again marveled at the technology of the xel'naga. The combination of nature and science, of mental power and things he, a simple human, could not understand... it was wondrous.

He felt her disappointment and worry seized him. What is it? What's wrong?

It is as I suspected, Zamara replied. The way to Shakuras is blocked. We have been—I think the term you would understand is "locked out."

Locked out? Why the hell would they lock us out?

It is a wise precaution, though inconvenient for us. The last time protoss fled to Shakuras from Aiur, zerg followed them. Shakuras suffered terribly. It was only through a great deal of effort that it and the protoss as a race survived at all, and the planet bears the scars of that battle to this day. I believe that once the protoss guarding the gate realized that Rosemary and her companions had come from Aiur, they ordered the Shakuras gate closed and redirected us here. A hint of humor. Wherever "here" may be. The warp gates are xel'naga technology, not protoss. I have no memory of this place at all. I believe I am the first protoss to have seen it.

Jake was a scholar, and fascinated by mysteries and discoveries. At any other time, he'd have been as intrigued as Zamara was to explore a new place. But he was freezing, he was scared, and a sudden shooting of pain in his temple reminded him that he was dying.

But.. .you just said you think Rosemary and the other protoss got through. Do you think they will convince the guards to open the gate?

She, too, was concerned, he knew, but at his words mirth flowed through him, warm and light.

If you were a protoss, how would you react to Rosemary?

Oh my God, he thought. You 're right. She '11 probably punch the first one who gets in her way.

I do not think so. She may wish to, but she has learned much. She has been tempered.

Unbidden, the term the misled and misused followers of Ulrezaj had chosen to describe themselves came to Jake's mind: Forged.

In a way, yes. That is apt. However, I believe the protoss will eventually agree to admit us to Shakuras.

Eventually? I can't stay here for that long. Not even for another few minutes, not without shelter or food.

I know. Let me think.

He did, taking his body back from her and moving as quickly as he dared on the slippery surface to stay warm. Cut-off pants, a sleeveless vest, and a light shirt, perfectly appropriate garments in Aiur's stifling humidity and unforgiving sun, served him not at all here.

I have reached a decision. Your hands again, please.

He watched as again she lifted his hands to the gate and began to do—whatever it was that programming the gate entailed. So what are we going to do?

We go back through the gate.

He laughed, a short harsh bark of a sound. He was starting to lose feeling in his limbs and face. We can't reach Shakuras; where do we go? How do we find these dark templar you need to reach?

If we are prevented from reaching Shakuras, the home of the dark templar, for the moment, then we will seek aid from a certain dark templar who is probably not on Shakuras.

Who is that?

Prelate Zeratul.

Jake's mind was suddenly awash in images and memories, none of which he could grasp in their entire complexity at this point but all of which served to give him a good idea of the nature of this dark templar. Age and wisdom were the predominant characteristics that graced this being. Although Jake knew that the Aiur protoss and the dark templar were the same species, there were subtle physical differences. The protoss he had befriended had skin that came in a variety of blue and gray. Zeratul s skin seemed almost purple, very dark where it encircled deep-set eyes, but lightening to pale lavender along the various ridges that also made him stand out from other protoss. Alzadar and Ladranix had almost smooth skin, with no bumps or ridges to mar the curves of their features. Zeratul's chin was long, thin, and ivory-colored.

There were other differences, too, differences of perception and sensation that Zamara imparted to him. The Aiur protoss had been fond of gold hues, as of the sun, but the dark templar in his mind's eye seemed almost swathed in shadow. One of Zeratul's arms was encased in a bracer that looked familiar to Jake; he'd seen similar bracers in action when Ladranix had sliced off the crystal Jake now carried in one of the many pockets of his vest. This piece of armor channeled psionic power and enabled the templar to wield the beautiful, graceful, and deadly psi blades. Zeratul's bracer was darker, and Jake wasn't sure if it was his imagination that made him see shadows swirling around the armor. The rest of his garb was also dark—soft, heavy robes of a rust color trimmed with brown fur. Jake knew that in keeping with dark templar tradition, his nerve cords had been ritually severed. All that was left of them was a short cluster, tied back in a ponytail. Dark templar could never enter the Khala because of this self-mutilation, even if they wished to. It was a defiant and permanent action.

Jake thought back to young Raszagal, of her pride and astonishing intellect. He thought of the other dark templar, herded like animals onto a ship of alien construction, a vessel no one was certain would even work properly. Exiled because the Conclave was afraid of them.

Ididn't realize you had the memories of someone who had known a dark templar! I mean, known one after they were banished. I'm looking forward to learning about them firsthand—well, as firsthand as preserver memories can be. They seem very wronged.

They were. The true tragedy is that the Conclave honestly believed that killing them—a stance Adun forced them to later mitigate to banishing—was the best thing to do for the protoss as a race. But the dark templar were not idle. They learned many, many things as they explored the Void in their centuries of exile. If we are fortunate, you will get to meet Zeratul as well.

You know where to find him? Exciting as the idea of meeting this powerful dark templar was, Jake was more immediately interested in getting out of the frigid environment. As if in answer to his thought, the gate began to glow and hum, active once again. Within its boundaries, a mist formed, and began to whirl in a clockwise direction.

Zamara hesitated.... Not exactly.

Great. They were going to start warp gate-hopping around the galaxy in search of a dark templar who might or might not be able to help save Jake's life, while over on Shakuras, Rosemary Dahl was an accidental terran ambassador to the protoss.

Zeratul spoke once about how he found the peace to locate the center from which all true strength comes. All protoss meditate. We also utilize the khaydarin crystals to focus our thoughts. But there are times when we need not just the calm of the mental senses, but those of the physical ones. Sensory pleasures, too, have a place in soothing the spirit.

Jake thought of the smell and taste of the sammuro fruit, and Zamara agreed.

The mental conversation took only a fraction of a second. As soon as the gate was fully active, Jake hurried through. Again darkness descended, and then again the world was bright. But this was no arctic wasteland, no sweltering rain forest. He looked around, blinking, stunned at what he beheld.

The color of the sky was pink. Not a rusty red indicative of high iron content in a dusty atmosphere, but positively pink, like a rose. The grass beneath him, for it was recognizable as such, was thick and soft and a soothing purple-blue color. The air was entirely breathable, and as Jake inhaled deeply a profusion of scents, everything from fruity to piney to a rich deep earth smell, filled his nostrils. The sun, a rose-yellow, was warm and the breeze that carried the scents, gentle. For a moment, Jake wondered how he could exist on a planet that had a clear, noontime, rose-colored sky. The little he knew about oxygen-nitrogen atmospheres and something called Rayleigh scattering told his brain that he should be having difficulty surviving here.

It is an unusual phenomenon. Shall I explain it in detail?

Jake closed his eyes, welcoming the warmth on his skin. He shrugged off his wet jacket and shirt.

No. I'll just accept it.

It was then that his eye fell upon a vessel. It resembled the small scout ships Jake had seen on Aiur, but it was slightly different. It was more—"squat" was the only word he could think of, solid, rather than elongated and graceful. Its creator had eschewed the gold that seemed to be the preferred hue of protoss vessels in favor of a black that seemed almost completely nonreflective, as if it absorbed the rosy sunlight that struck it. Here and there were dull bronze highlights.

Jake felt hope surge from Zamara, and at the same moment couldn't stifle a yelp of pain. His body stiffened and then began to tremble, and for a brief second he lost consciousness. He came to on his hands and knees, panting, and cautiously sat upright.

Zamara... what...

For a wild moment he thought—he hoped—that whatever had just happened to him had somehow been caused by the alien vessel. Or there was something in the atmosphere that was harmful after all. But he knew better.

The tumors are growing worse. You are beginning to feel the effects of the pressure they are putting on your brain, Zamara informed him, the blunt statement strangely more comforting than any misguided false sympathy would have been. Jake knew he could trust Zamara to tell him the unvarnished truth.

Well, at least I get to keel over in a beautiful place, he said. He'd always appreciated gallows humor.

I will do everything in my power—use all of my knowledge—to keep you alive and safe, Jacob.

...I know. The seizure had passed and while the headache remained, it had subsided to the point where Jake no longer had the urge to rip off his own head. Shakily he got to his feet.

The vessel is of dark templar design, Zamara said. I do not know if it belongs to Zeratul, but seeing it here is a promising sign. Let us see what we can learn.

Jake took deep, steadying gulps of the deliciously scented air and approached the vessel. He felt Zamara's excitement as he extended a hand and ran it along the ship's curving sides. It looked like it had been sitting here for a while. Pollen, dust, and leaves all dulled its surface and now coated Jake's hand.

I know more about the dark templar than most protoss—both their origins and their current status. But lam accustomed to knowing almost everything, and this—ah, this is new. Hook forward to learning.

Jake smiled, softly. There was a dreadful direness about their situation, and the fact that the brain tumors—plural, mind you, no longer just "a brain tumor"—were worsening pointed up the fact that time was running out. Running out for him, for Zamara, who also would cease to exist if his body died, running out for whatever information she held that was so damn valuable. Maybe running out for the universe, if the secret was that important.

But still, with the smooth, cool curve of the dark templar vessel beneath his fingers, a sense of leashed power emanating from it, and the almost childlike awe of a protoss who knew more than Jake could even begin to comprehend weaving in with his own wonder, Jake Ramsey felt himself a lucky man indeed.

The vessel responded to Zamara's touch—apparently dark templar and Aiur protoss were not that different when it came to an innate understanding of how their technology worked—and a ramp slowly extended. His heart racing, Jake climbed aboard. Looking around he found that everything was both somehow familiar and completely strange. He sensed that Zamara shared the feeling.

He heard a soft hum and whirled just in time to see the door sliding shut. It was dark inside, darker than it should be considering there was at least one viewscreen in the forward part of the ship, and Jake suddenly felt nervous.

Uh. ..Zamara, do you know how to operate this thing at all? Or maybe at least open the door?

I am sure I will be able to comprehend it. Zeratul shared much with Tassadar about the source of dark templar energies. I may not be able to control it as he does, but perhaps I can... intuit...

Jake relinquished control of his body and let her ease it into a chair. The controls of the ship were barely visible, buttons and indentations on an otherwise flat surface. Zamara passed Jake's hand, fingers spread, over the controls, and they hummed to glowing green life.

Ah! Excellent. Let us see how long it has been since the vessel was operated.

Symbols appeared, flashing faster than Jake could register them. But apparently Zamara had no such trouble.

It has been several months since anyone has operated the ship.

That doesn't sound promising.

It is neither promising nor dispiriting; it is simply a fact. There is no way to determine the identity of the ship's owner. Now to find coordinates.

Zamara waved Jake's hand again, in an undulating pattern, over part of the controls, and a screen lit up. Alien symbols raced over it. The dark templar have certainly suffered, and many are still resentful. However, they still revere Aiur, and have never sought to deny their protoss heritage. They did not create a new written language... which is fortunate for us. There are several flight paths entered into the knowledge banks of this vessel. Let us see where they take us.

What—you 're stealing this ship? Jake had a sudden rather comical mental image of a protoss off catching some cosmic rays and seeing his ship lift off without him.

I have programmed the vessel to scan for any protoss life-forms. There are none within several hundred kilometers, and as I told you, the vessel has not been operated for many months. I suspect that this ship, located in such close proximity to the warp gate, is waiting for its pilot to return from his or her travels beyond the gate.

Well, that makes sense, but what if he comes back and his ship's not here?

Why then, it will be necessary for him to make contact with us, and that is precisely what we wish to happen, is it not?

And before Jake quite knew what was happening, the dark templar ship had powered up, lifted off, and was moving swiftly and silently among pink clouds.