《刀锋女王》

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《刀锋女王》
Starcraft：Queen of Blades

作者：Graham McNeill
出版：Simon & Schuster (Pocket Star Books)
出版时间：2006年5月23日
中文翻译：sc2.cc翻译众
　　具体名单：
　　序幕至第五章 翻译：麦德三世
　　第六章 翻译：Nalicial
　　第七章（上）翻译：麦德三世（下）翻译：怎么都被注册
　　第八章 翻译：Promises0688
　　第九章 翻译：Darth
　　第十章 翻译：Promises0688
　　第十一章 翻译：Darth
　　第十二章 翻译：大口径喷子
　　第十三章 翻译：Darth
　　第十四章 翻译：Promises0688
　　第十五章 翻译：admere
　　第十六章 翻译：Promises0688
　　第十七章 翻译：observations
　　第十八章 翻译：admere
　　第十九章 翻译：admere
　　第二十章 翻译：admere
　　尾声 翻译：admere
状态：已完结

　　

导读

　　刀锋女王凯瑞甘是星际争霸中最受玩家欢迎的人物之一。今天我们就为大家带来了由bbs.sc2.cc网友们合力翻译的暴雪星际争霸官方小说《刀锋女王》。

　　从一名执政官转变成叛军的吉米·雷诺，在看到阿克图拉斯·孟斯克醉心于权力后，决心与他分道扬镳。当他目睹了孟斯克背叛强大的幽能者萨拉·凯瑞甘，继而致使后者陷于异虫包围中，吉米？雷诺失去了对蒙斯克的所有的信任。

　　然而，由于蒙斯克的背叛，雷诺梦中被奇怪的景象所困扰——查尔行星成为了一个危险的，岩浆四溢的世界，可怕的外星生物时隐时现。随着噩梦越发频繁真实，雷诺开始怀疑也许梦境并非虚幻——而是凯瑞甘孤注一掷的幽能连接的一部分。源于他对深爱的女人依旧活着的坚信，于是雷诺发动了一次草率的救援行动，希望能够将凯瑞甘从查尔带回。但是在行星熏烧着的地表之下，雷诺却发现了一个奇怪的蛹……就在惊恐的注视着它的时候，一个可怕却熟悉不过的面孔从蛹中出现。

　　一个拥有着无尽恨意和复仇意念的生灵就站在他面前……

序幕

　　世界突然变得一片黑暗。

　　不，这并不是单纯的夜晚——没有任何一种夜幕能营造如此纯粹的黑暗，不，这是囚室的黑暗、被蒙住双眼一般的黑暗。什么都看不见，无光，无影，只有一层令人窒息的东西遮蔽着视觉。与前一瞬间那眩目的光线、恣意喷发的色彩产生了鲜明的对比。

　　我挣扎着想要弄清自己的处境。我在哪里？

　　没有任何回答。下一瞬间，一个更大的疑问笼罩着我，抹去了前一个。我是谁？

　　恐惧自我内心油然而生，夹杂着说不清道不明的愤怒，淹没了我。我不记得了。我不记得我是谁了！

　　冷静，我告诉自己。要冷静。我强压下心头的恐惧，以坚决的意志抵制它，绝不能让它包围我、毁灭我。然后我问自己。你想起什么了吗？

　　没有。

　　不对，有一些片段。一场战役。一场战斗。恐怖，恐怖的敌人，巨大的怪兽包围着我，我如此渺小。背叛——尽管已无法回忆起具体的细节，我仍能感受到当时的痛苦。抛弃。绝望，末日临头之下歇斯底里的挣扎。坚实的触感包围了我，令我窒息，一点一点地在杀死我。世界突然变得一片黑暗，麻木随之在我体内蔓延。

　　然后就变成现在这样了。

　　我在哪里？我极力延伸我的感官，探察我的周围，我的感觉模糊而杂乱，可是最终，都只得出了同一个结论。

　　我在被运送。

　　我能感觉到这种移动，与其所产生振动。但不剧烈——有什么东西垫着我，裹着我，全方位地缓冲着这种振动。是这东西本身在移动，而我则被它运载着。

　　我试图用手敲它，但我的四肢无法听从指挥。我感到迟滞、虚脱——麻木。感官迟钝，身体像灌了铅，可意识却古怪地清醒异常。我的身体在燃烧！我的血肉在蠕动、在爬行、在融化、在变形——我再也无法控制我自己的身体了。我在变形。

　　我能感到我周围还有其他活物。它们并不像我那样被束缚——它们可以自由行动，尽管它们的意识十分低级。是它们捕获了我，将我装进这个容器里运往目的地。

　　我能感受到它们的思想，划过我，穿过我，一部分的我畏缩不已，但另一部分——新的那部分——欢迎它们的侵扰。那部分随着它们的话语摇摆，让我的身体与它们共鸣，进一步地改变我，让我更为接近周围的那些生物。

　　尚属于我自己的部分，以前的部分，在恐惧中畏缩。不，我不能，我不想变成它们的同类！我要逃走！我要自由！我的身体虽被囚禁，但我的意识延伸了开去，寻求帮助，任何帮助。我绝望地尖叫着，只要能让人听到，不管是谁。

　　而我知道，在很远很远的地方，有人听到了我的祈求。

　　救救我！

　　碎石遍布四处，折射出一座燃烧的城市，一个已死的世界。建筑倾覆，交通瘫痪，大街上尸体横陈。一块标牌仍立于这片废墟的边缘，它那焦黑的表面上用大字写着“欢迎来到”后面的新盖茨堡这几个字现在只是一个锯齿状的黑窟窿。五花八门的尸体，从Terran苍白的躯体到Protoss光滑的外皮到Zerg强壮的骨刃。人类，还活着的人类无处藏身，尖叫着四散奔逃，嚎哭着寻求帮助。一些人疯狂凌驾了理智，他们挥舞着武器，绝望地想要保护自己和家人。也有些人缩在角落里独自垂泪，无法面对这个世界的末日。剩下的少部分人则躲的躲，逃的逃，幻想着能逃离他们注定的宿命。

　　虫群忽略了他们，因为它还有一项更重要的议程。

　　这场战役并没有照预期那样发展。Terran以比预期少得多的兵力组织了一次次的的顽强抵抗。而Protoss，该死的Protoss几乎无所不在，披着他们的闪亮的战斗套装，彰显他们的自大，不过很快他们似乎失去了焦点，将注意力分到别处去了，好像他们不只在和一个敌人作战。在某些地方，虫群还目击到了Terrans攻击Protoss，原因不明，但相当令人高兴。是的，这是一个奇怪的战场，敌我双方在不断的变化。不过这只是圣灵要考虑的事。目前，战乱已经结束，这场战役已经打赢了。残余的Terran构不成任何威胁，而Protoss则在取得了一定战果后突然消失了。出于某种考虑，他们这次并没有夷平这个星球，这一事实令虫群取得了意想不到的收获——找到了一个宝贵的战利品。

　　现在，它们互相联结的意识已经把注意力从这场战争放到眼前的事上来了，Zerg正在检阅它们的大军，并准备胜利凯旋。

　　一个氏群清理出了一条道来，移走了尸体、碎石、金属等所有的障碍。另一个氏群尾随其后，紧紧保护着那件战利品。中心部位是一群雷兽组成的一支紧密编队，它们的背刺几乎挨在一块，包围着四个刺蛇怪，那四个刺蛇怪用前肢联合托着一个椭圆形的物体。那东西粘糙的茧壳正不断地以光的形式辐射着脉冲，但在这座城市的熊熊火焰和爆炸所产生的闪耀的对比下显得尤为黯淡。

　　“当心，”这个氏群的脑体指示道，它通过漂浮在这个虫蛹上数个管理者观察着队伍的进展。因为脑体本身无法移动，空中的管理者就像是它五官的延伸。“决不能让蛹受到任何伤害！”

　　雷兽小队遵造它的旨意，将队形靠得更陇了，移动速度也稍微放慢，以让前面的氏群清出更大的空间。随着队伍的推进，他们笨重的肢体碾过碎石和金属，没有丝毫的犹豫及停滞，它们只顾用躯体来保护那个蛹。

　　“我们弄到那东西了，我的主，”脑体向自己的意识深处通报，“我们找到了您的宝贝。”

　　“很好。”这声音回荡在它的意识深处，从Zerg集体意识的深渊中升起，“你们必须照看好这个蛹，不可让其中的生物受到任何的伤害。照看好我的小宝贝儿，出发吧。”

　　脑体一如继往地遵从着圣灵的意志，又将保护组数量增加了一倍，以确保万无一失。它将不惜一切代价保护这个蛹。

　　虫群穿过了整座燃烧的城市，并在一座巨型环形山内集结。这里本是这座城市引以为傲的标志性湖。由于Protoss飞船降落时的炙烤和Zerg进攻该城时铁蹄的践踏，如今它的底面已经晶化。

　　“我们已准备完毕，我的主。”脑体通报道，它将自己的氏群全部汇集到了蛹的周围。

　　“我很高兴，年轻的脑体，”圣灵回应道，随即它温暖的祝福之光从脑体身上溅发开来，覆盖了脑体治下的虫群。“而只要我的小宝贝儿不受伤害，我还会继续高兴下去。然后，它的生命将和你融为一体。它每成长一分，你也会随之成长。因为你是虫群的一分子。即便你的躯体被摧毁，我也会给你重塑一个。这是我跟所有脑体定的契约。”

　　脑体自豪地膨胀了一下，环形山上方降下了一个由暗物质组成的黑体，缓缓地落进了它们的视线。而远在这个星球濒死的大气圈外，出现了一个巨型的漩涡。一股桔黄色和紫色相间的涡流绕着数道古怪的强光旋转着。越转越快，两种颜色在愤怒的涡流中混合，直到风暴本身向自身塌陷，强光与彩色的涡流崩溃成一个黑色的圆环，那是一种纯粹的黑色，甚至比周围的宇宙空间还要黑暗。

　　“现在你已经强壮到可以忍受空间跳跃所带来的不适感了。”圣灵说道，这句话蕴含着力量，强化了整个虫群。“现在，我们就要离开这个废弃的世界，将蛹带往查尔行星的虫巢簇群中妥善保护。”

　　开路的氏群飞升起来，浮到了城市废墟的上空，动作整齐划一。它们摆脱了星球微弱的引力，接近了大气层外那漩涡，然后一头扎进那张开的、诱人的黑暗里，消失了。通过Zerg间共享的集体意识，脑体感受到了它们的传送，并把那一瞬间的愉悦感保留在了自己的脑海中。随后，圣灵的召唤来了，为了即将到来的空间跳跃，脑体将自己的氏群集合在了一块，并和它们紧密联系。它们自环形山中飞升起来，并竭力感受着圣灵补充进它们体内的力量。很快，那片黑暗吞噬了所有思想、所有感觉，然后将带着它们穿越广阔时空，前往它们的目的地。

　　在那个蛹里，隐约可以看到，在它那粘厚的外壳里，有一个因痛苦而扭曲的躯体。虽然不甚明显，但那躯体确实在里面挣扎、搅动，尽管Zerg病毒已经侵染了每一个细胞，不断将DNA转化成它们自己的，却仍不能让那生物安静下来。不过很快，这个蛹将会孵化，Zerg的新成员将从中诞生。到那时，整个虫群都将为圣灵而齐声赞美。

　　正当它们全体撤离了已死的塔松尼斯星球，被囚禁在蛹里的那个意识声嘶力竭地尖叫道……

　　吉米！

第一章

　　吉米！

　　“啊——！”

　　“……但，当然孟斯克——哦，抱歉，应该说阿克图拉斯一世大帝——宣称这只是迫不得已的手段。据其发言人称，新Terran帝国正在尽一切必要手段消除异形的威胁，保护帝国殖民地的安危。可是我们知道，都已经快两个月了。而这份报告显示……”

　　吉姆？雷纳仰天躺着，双眼死盯着蓝灰色的天花板。一只手撸过自己湿透了的短发。尽管噩梦惊起的肾上腺素尚未消退，但他听到这声音仍不由得想要微笑。他瞥了一眼控制台上的全息影像，这个全神贯注地作他的报导的人是个瘦高个，尽管身披一条破破烂烂的大氅，头上戴顶软边帽，整个报导却有一种他的独有风格——当然这种风格可能正是那条破大氅给人的感觉。

　　迈克？利伯蒂——雷纳在这个世界上仅存的几个可称之为朋友的人之一——依旧作着孟斯克的专题报导，即使是现在——依旧试图将真相展现给完全听不进去的群众们。

　　“……戴拉怜船厂的失守事件也是疑团重重，”雷纳对接下去的内容特别感兴趣，因此竖起了耳朵仔细听着。

　　“詹姆斯？雷纳已因此次事件成为通缉犯，”他的朋友道，“仔细回想起来，我们对那里究竟发生了什么事还是不清不楚。为何一夜之间，这位安提加主星的英雄突然成了恐怖分子？拯救过如此多人生命的他怎可能去破坏戴拉怜船厂？帝国发言人表示雷纳的袭击已对舰队造成了极大损害，一旦异形再度来袭，我们都将性命不保。”他听到迈克的声音低了下去，不用看也知道——他的朋友正将身体微微前倾，一改之前新闻记者式的口吻：“也许，阿克图拉斯仅仅是恼怒于有人竟能无视于他定下的新规矩，特别是一个他曾最为器重的副手。或许这些袭击都只是一个个精心伪造的借口，为的只是抓住这个雷诺，以免让公众了解到他的权威并非像他自己宣称的那样稳固不移。”

　　“嗨！”听到最后一句他快忍不住笑出声来了。干得好，继续扇他们的嘴巴，迈克！不过“安提加主星的英雄”？他什么时候有过这种头衔了？这称呼就和孟斯克安在他头上的绝大部分罪名一样虚假。

　　“绝大部分”，也就是说还是有一部分是真的，就像这次。他确实袭击了那个船厂。他是被逼的。自打他和杜克PK了一顿外加袭击了塔松尼斯的飞船以后，他就本以为他会孤身一人离开，最多带几个死忠吧。可没想到他收到了他老部下们的诸多支持。很多人甚至表示愿和他一块儿走，于是结果他发现自己成了一整支小型部队的首领。只可惜这是一支缺少交通工具的部队，况且他也清楚孟斯克才不会就这么轻易让他溜了。因此他们需要飞船，而且要快。去袭击船厂，抢走那里的无人设备显然比直接占领载有孟斯克方乘员的飞船要安全多了。

　　当然，事情才不会那么容易。孟斯克早料到了他这步棋——尽管他对此人厌恶至极，可必须承认这位自封的皇帝确实是个战略天才——而他派杜克驾着自己的旗舰，休伯利安号，来阻截他们。这不得不说是个错误。

　　雷纳知道自己是别想继续睡了，于是干脆摸着下巴上的短胡子陷入了愉快的回忆中。杜克或许是个称职的舰队指挥官，尽管有很多缺点仍不失为一名好将军。可是他过去一直习惯于平原战，靠舰队和侦查机进行强攻，对爆发在船厂内的战斗缺乏准备。在那里他的部下投鼠忌器，怕伤到自己人或飞船设备。雷纳可就没有这种顾虑。飞船被打穿了一个洞？无所谓，我们去偷下一艘。他设下陷阱诱杜克靠近，接着利用船厂的机械逮住了休伯利安号，并将她锁在空中。之后的一切就变得简单了——他和他的伙伴们轻易夺下了它。

　　想到这里，他笑着站了起来，穿过房间，走向豪华的御用浴室。杜克秀逗的脑袋让他丢了休伯利安，而孟斯克收到了他Terran帝国开国以来的第一次公开兵败，这时候他在皇帝宝座上屁股都没坐稳呢。雷纳带着休伯利安号和一打其余的飞船扬长而去，把可怜兮兮却仍兀自暴跳如雷的杜克远远丢在了后头。

　　当然，自那以后，他们就陷入了低潮期。

　　他嘴上的笑容消失了，雷纳板着脸打开了光洁的木门，对着里面的浴室怒目而视，大理石水槽，陶瓷地砖，华丽优雅的水龙头和沐浴设备——这房间更像是位于一座豪华宾馆里，而非舰长的套间中。但它们确实曾是孟斯克的财产，这位大人物也十分怀恋于这种舒适的感觉。雷纳曾试图将它们清理干净，可这样太花时间了。他也考虑过另找一间普通房住，但拗不过手下们的坚持。他现在已经成了一名舰长，而这里正是他的卧室。因此他不得不忍受着这种奢侈，并努力将自己的注意力集中往其它地方。

　　不幸的是，实在没什么事情好让他集中的。自从抢到了这些飞船后他已成为了头号公敌。帝国每一名士兵都在追击着他，他的头像已经张贴到了殖民地的每一个角落。但他烦恼的却不是这个——他比大多数人都清楚孟斯克的本事，也知道他对忠于他的人都做了些什么，因此根本就没打算过要回头。你自己变成了法律并不能真正改变什么。结果还是一样：你站在人民的一边或是你根本没资格站。雷纳坚信这一点，而孟斯克的背叛让他毫无良心负担地选择了流亡。

　　那问题在哪里呢？在于他出逃之后打算干些什么。他当时没多考虑这一点，因为他本打算单独离开的。而现在他手下的这支部队让事情复杂化了。他们仰赖着他，期待着他，耐心等待着他的命令——而他根本没有。哦，他们确实偷过飞船，对。他们还攻击过几个边哨站，炸飞过几支星际巡逻队。但他还是不知道接下去该干嘛。他不知道自己该何去何从。整整六周过去了他仍没拿出任何主意。

　　当玛萨拉执行长官的那几年里，雷纳就一直告诉自己，他是足够独立自主的，无论什么环境下都能照顾好自己。这是事实，至少部分是。他靠自己的资源生存，靠自己的判断行事，他的统治公开而又松散，也给了他自己不少自由空间。唯一的方针就是：守护玛萨拉行星上的居民。而他加入孟斯克的起义军后又有了一条新的方针：从联邦和异形的爪子里拯救人民。那现在他又该采用何种方针？

　　他知道自己曾一度怒不可遏，几乎到了丧失理智的地步。他愤怒于孟斯克的所作所为，憎恨他背叛了那个人。

　　那个人正是凯瑞甘。

　　他仍能感受到当时的自己对孟斯克的愤恨，他竟然就这样抛弃了她，就这样把她丢给了Zerg，丢在了那个星球的废墟之中。真该死。他抚摸着指节处长出的新皮，那些伤口是他在揍杜克的头上的钢盔时留下的，当时这个银背大猩猩正打算阻止他去救人。尽管伤口已经痊愈，他却没有忘记那份怒意。

　　可单纯的怒意又能把他引往何处？当最初的狂暴开始消退，他发现自己并不知道该如何将他的人民引向他们的理想乡。他们现在的身份是反叛者，但他们反叛的对象究竟是什么？他们又该怎样做？

　　迈克其实是个比他更活跃的反叛者，他以自己的方式攻击着孟斯克，从他那隐秘的电台站中向外界播发反动报导。不知疲倦地揭露着孟斯克为巩固他的统治所做的一切，揭露着Zerg、Protoss以及Psi发射器背后的一切黑幕。

　　Zerg和Protoss.真该死，雷纳觉得自己谈起（甚至是想起）这个话题的时候多半是疯狂地咆哮着的。两个貌似世仇的外星种族在人类的地盘上开战，而我们的殖民地就得夹在交火双方中受夹板气？真是个疯狂的世界。

　　但这是现实。这种事情他已经看得太多了，想不承认都不行。

　　当然，还有一种解释是他已经精神分裂了。至少这足以解释那些梦。

　　自从他离开塔松尼斯，那些梦就一直潜伏在他的头脑里，等待着每晚他合上双眼那一瞬间。每当他头一接触床板，意识刚一游离，那些梦境便席卷而来。

　　噩梦，真正的噩梦。每次都一模一样。梦中的他被困在原地无法动弹，像是被上了无形的绳子或是镣铐，不能移动也不能挣扎。无数阴暗扭曲的身影在他头顶漂浮，触碰着他的周身，而他却只能无助地看着这一切，想要尖叫，却张不开嘴。这就是他每时每夜都在经历着的同一个噩梦。

　　直到昨晚。

　　这次的梦境有些不同。他没有受到任何束缚，也重获了对手脚的控制能力，尽管四肢仍有些沉重迟钝甚至是一种奇怪的麻木之感。他站立的地面就像风化的象牙和人骨一样苍白稀疏，稍稍一动便刮下一阵碎片，不少落进了他打滑的鞋子里，这些岩片干涩得古怪，既不阴冷也不温热，用手一碰便都成了粉末。

　　灰烬。他站在一片遍布灰烬的大地上，极目望去，灰烬覆盖了一切，包括周围连绵的黑色岩丘。头顶上的云层在空中翻卷，两颗紫色的小型月亮和一颗套着光环的红色行星在其间若隐若现。他呼吸的时候，甚至能尝到空气中烟尘的味道，能感受到它们吸附在他的肺壁。这整个行星似乎完全由灰烬构成。它可能曾遭受过毁灭，却终究未能恢复。

　　但他有比考察地表紧迫得多的事情。就当他站在原地，试图恢复自己的方向感和平衡感，伸展他被束缚多时的肢体之时，那些扭曲的阴影再度出现在地平线的另一端，并以惊人的速度向他的方向袭来，眨眼之间就来到了他的面前。它们滚烫恶臭的气息灼伤着他的皮肤。他试着将它们尽收眼底，却不敢将目光的焦点集中在任何一个身上。他有一种没来由的直觉：细看它们会让自己彻底崩溃。眼角余光的匆匆一瞥，让他认出了它们是Zerg——通过它们的皮肤以及它们扭曲的身形上延伸出来触角和骨刺，但它们比他见过的任何Zerg都要高大、黑暗、扭曲。他恐惧不已，呼吸急促，甚至能清楚地听到自己心跳声，汗水瞬间布满了他的全身。他不由自主地发出了一声呜咽，然后立刻牢牢闭紧了嘴唇，生怕自己再次发出这种声音。

　　尽管它们都已经快挨到他鼻子了，可他竟还是抓到了包围网上的一丝缝隙，成功穿了过去。转瞬间，他已经步履蹒跚地在这个被灰烬埋葬的世界里奔逃，并尽力不让自己仍不甚灵活的双脚在全速运作时绊倒。视野前方有几座岩丘，出于烟尘的干扰，无法判断出远近，但他知道自己只要能逃到那里，便有机会找到藏匿之处。刚才他注意到它们背后冒起了一股夹杂着火星的烟柱——结合地上的灰烬来判断，应该是火山——他感到有些庆幸，因为这股烟雾一定能让他不被发现。只要他能翻过那座山脊，就能融进那股烟雾里，就有机会逃出生天。他催促着双脚配合这个计划，快些，再快些。

　　可惜仍不够快。

　　怪物们和他的距离正在不断缩短，密集的骨刺有意识似的扭动，无数的触手抽击着空气，他能听见它们兴奋的嘶叫声，他能听到它们的躯体在地面蜿蜒疾行，激起一股股浓密的烟雾。他甚至能听到它们的嘴唇里渗出的口水声。它们很快就能阻截上他，再度包围他。它们细长的触角会将他重重束缚，宣布这场猫捉老鼠的游戏到此结束。到时候，真正的折磨才会开始。

　　他连滚带爬、不顾一切地向前奔逃，寻觅着一切生路，一个掩体、一把武器，什么都好。他需要帮助！

　　什么都没有。只有灰烬、怪兽和他。

　　一只怪物蛇行向前，它那坚硬、光滑的躯体支撑着形似长发的后脑勺，镶着骨镰的前肢切向了他的身体。才一接触，他立刻感到接触部位的皮肤像是燃烧了起来，当那骨镰切进他的身体，刺激的酸液开始在他血管中流动，他的身体不可抑制地抽搐了起来。他头痛欲裂，火红的长发披散了开来，一时遮蔽了眼前的蠢蠢欲动的怪物们。几只触手捆紧了他，榨干了他肺部的空气，他只听到自己最后喊了一句。

　　“吉米！”

　　然后他醒了。

　　“不可能的，”雷纳除下衣服走进了淋浴间。他一扭镶银的开关，喷头立刻射出了针形的水雾——真正的水；专门为孟斯克准备的最好的水！——冰冷水流的刺激带走了他最后一丝睡意，也一并冲走了他身上的污垢、汗渍和血迹。为节约水源，他在等待了设定中的最短的30秒后，立刻关闭了喷头，开始耐心等待接下去的烘干步骤。等他走出沐浴间时，已经变得神清气爽，充满活力。他一边穿着衣服，头脑却仍在运转，试图给这个梦找出一个合理的解释，却又不敢正视梦中获得的那些可怕线索。

　　“肯定是不可能的，”他穿上靴子的时候再次这样告诉自己，然后披上了他的皮夹克。别着手枪的腰带已经自动束上了他的腰，手雷也挂在了他的大腿一侧，他向着门口走去，半路上顺手拣起了他的帽子。

　　休伯利安是艘大飞船，一艘巨型战列巡航舰，有充足的空间囤积武器、物资甚至小型侦查飞船。但同时它也曾是孟斯克的旗舰，而这位前恐怖分子可没打算要在狭窄的过道中贴壁前进或是纵身飞跃细长的刚梯。走过铺着地毯的宽阔走廊时，雷纳如往常般摇了摇头。柔和的灯光从艺术化的墙壁上升起，古典的烛台均匀地点缀在两边。房门之间挂满了名画，给人一种身处豪华官邸的错觉，这儿究竟是在一座战舰中还是一座观光宇宙船里？雷纳怀疑孟斯克多半更心疼船里的这些浮雕、雪茄等宝贝而不是丢了这一船的武器。

　　雷纳轻快地跃上宽阔的悬梯，来到了楼上的指挥层，拉开厚重的大门，进入了控制室。他自己的控制室。这儿就像其他房间一样浮华，想象一个安置了一圈监控器和控制台的歌舞厅，或是一个摆满了操作台的宴会厅。这里可以说是整个战舰的船舵，一个用瓷砖和木板装饰的，铺满了天鹅绒和丝绸的船舵。

　　“长官！”指挥椅上的玛特？霍尼尔向他行了个军礼，并准备站起来，给雷纳腾出位置。但雷纳挥了挥手，示意他继续坐。霍尼尔品行优良，只是太年轻还有点理想主义——他加入孟斯克的克哈之子纯粹为了让世界有所改变，而到现在他也还坚信他当时做的那些事全是为了国家和正义。他总有一天会明白的，尽管雷纳并不觉得看得太穿是件好事。眼下，霍尼尔是一名不错的副指挥和一位杰出的舰长。

　　“一切正常，长官，”霍尼尔汇报道，雷纳点了点头，身体往指挥椅和导航面板之间的控制台倾了倾。

　　“等待您的命令，长官！”霍尼尔喊道，而雷诺只是耸了耸肩。

　　“自由活动，孩子。”他立刻看到了年轻人脸上那股不带掩饰的失望，一股强烈的内疚感再度包围了他。在过去的几周里，这副表情他已经看过很多次了，从霍尼尔和其他人的脸上。他们都这样迫切地希望跟随他，只因为相信他能带领他们去做正确的事。可他却将他们带到了这里。让他们在这里陷入无止境的等待，除了阻拦因迷途而闯入的飞船外无所事事，浪费时间只等孟斯克查到他们的大致位置，然后派遣舰队来消灭他们。

　　他们为什么不干点别的？雷纳知道大家都在这么想。每天早晨，霍尼尔都会向他要指令，可是他照例每天都想不出来。呆在这里，他已经失去了方向感。和孟斯克翻脸显然是件正确的事，这点雷纳再坚信不过，只是他觉得现在还不是直接进攻帝国的时机，可又找不到偃旗息鼓和发动总力战之间的一个合适中介点。

　　当霍尼尔无力地坐回指挥椅上，雷纳又自顾自陷入了对那些梦境的沉思，特别是昨晚的那个。它在他脑海里挥之不去。它和前几个梦显然不同，这不仅仅是情节和他能不能动区别。它更为强烈——轮廓更清晰、色彩更鲜明、扑面而来的空气中夹杂着某种能撕裂他的东西，令他的头发如刺猬般倒竖起来。是因为激动么？还是害怕？

　　预兆。有什么事即将发生。而且很快。

　　“我需要一颗行星，玛特，”他最后说，年轻人惊讶地抬头望着他。

　　“长官？”有那么一瞬间年轻人一脸茫然，他的双眼中写满了困惑，之后他张大了嘴。“是！长官！一个指挥行动的新基地！一个革命的发源地！一个有志之士的集结……”

　　“不，只是一颗行星而已，”雷纳打断了他的宏论，他知道让霍尼尔抱有错误的幻想并没有好处，“一颗符合我描述的行星。”

　　他走到霍尼尔身边，开始向导航系统输入数据。“偏热，”他别打字边默念，“但没到无法忍受的程度。空气相对稠密，充满灰烬。有一个明显的太阳。两个小型月亮。附近有一颗带光环的红色行星。地表铺满火山灰，略带苍白，至少积有一英寸厚。有丘陵和小山，成份是黑色的岩石多于尘土。遍布着火星和烟柱。或许到处都有火山口。没有动植物生命迹象。”他轻易地回忆起了这类描述术语，因为以前他当玛萨拉执行长官的时候常用它们来标记潜在的可用殖民地。输入完毕后，他按下了确认，在计算机搜索数据库中的匹配行星时背过身去，透过房间中宽广的舷窗盯着黑暗的太空。

　　不可能是她的。

　　她已经死了。他知道。但确实，他没有亲眼看到她的死，而如果有人能在那种极端的条件下存活，那也只能是她，但是……

　　塔松尼斯已经被彻底洗劫，Zerg曾一度淹没了整个星球。这已经是六个星期以前的事情了。

　　而如果她真的活了下来，她一定已经来跟他联络了。该死，没准她还会半夜在他的舰长室突然现身，给他来个惊喜，而且没有人会看见她是如何溜进来的。

　　然而，思量再三，或许她真的活了下来。通过某种他意想不到的方式……

　　毕竟，她是个通灵者。

　　莎拉？凯瑞甘。她有一头火红色的头发，一双翠绿色的眼睛，一双宽大的嘴唇。这个女孩拥有着知性的外表和冰冷的视线。前幽灵特工、前杀手、前孟斯克最为信任的副官。

　　凯瑞甘。他的朋友。甚至可以说是他的爱人——当然，这身份是双方面的，他们互相吸引——甚至不用说破，他们彼此都能感受到。而现在这份感觉只有越来越强烈。可惜他们相逢在了最错误的时机。他们的相遇伴随着战争——他们的感情充满了阻碍。

　　他还记得他们的第一次相遇，当时她劈头骂他是猪。她并没有错——当时他无法抑制第一次见到她时的想法：美丽而又危险，还有盘在头顶的那头火焰般的长发。但它们克服了那次尴尬，并成为了朋友。她和迈克是他在孟斯克的核心集团中唯一真正信任的两个人。他们三人之间情谊比兄弟还要紧密，比配偶还要紧密，那是只有共同经历过生死患难才能培养出来的感情。

　　凯瑞甘。孟斯克把她丢在了塔松尼斯，任由她在虫群的包围中走向死亡。而现在，她在呼唤着他。在他的梦中。那只能是她。这辈子从未有其他人喊过他吉米，自从他牙牙学语以来。

　　“长官？”霍尼尔示意他看着控制台。雷纳暂时收回了他的遐思，回过头去查看结果。

　　系统中没有找到相应条目

　　“吼。”他本以为孟斯克的数据库中会有那颗星。这至少可以证明那地方真的存在。就算梦中的事件并非真实。

　　“长官？”霍尼尔小心地看着他。

　　“嗯？”

　　“长官，我们还是能找到它的。”

　　雷纳考虑再三，摇了摇头：“算了，那地方多半不存在吧。”

　　霍尼尔皱了皱眉头：“长官，能让我试试吗？”他指着控制台，雷纳点了点头。霍尼尔在旋转椅上转过身去，手指开始在键盘上飞舞。“两个月亮的大小？”他头也不抬地问。雷纳又仔细回忆了一遍梦境中的情形。

　　“小型，”他回答道，“只有玛萨拉的一半大，紫色。”

　　年轻人点了点头，可输入文字的却有些不同：“那个带光环的行星的大小？”

　　雷纳阖上双眼，努力回忆起他对天空的一瞥：“你试试塔松尼斯的大小，”他最后说。

　　“重力？”

　　他回忆着自己双脚着地，四周飞舞着灰烬的感觉。“普通。接近地球重力。”接着他又想起了更多细节，“空气中含硫量高。含氧量也比较高。”他仿佛又找回了那种感觉，呼吸的时候感觉有些头晕，浓密的烟尘几乎让他窒息。

　　“好的，长官。”霍尼尔输入完毕，并按下了搜索键。不过一会儿，三个坐标显示在了中央大屏幕的星图上。“搜索到三个可能符合条件的星球，长官。”

　　雷纳诧异地看着他：“你怎么做到的？”

　　这次霍尼尔得意地微笑了起来，脸上稍有点兴奋：“用了点算法，长官。将这些描述输入系统，然后在星图上将他们交叉参照。”他指着屏幕上的三个光点：“这三颗星球都未经勘探，长官。这就是导航系统里没有它们资料的原因。但根据他们的太阳、行星、和月亮来判断，这三颗行星符合条件。”

　　“哈。”雷纳摇了摇头，好厉害。霍尼尔是那样的渴望服从他的指挥，那样毫不犹豫地遵行他的命令。这几乎让他忘了这孩子在加入前就执掌过一艘星际战舰了。

　　他仔细端详了下星图上的三个坐标。第一颗在距离上最为接近。可是当他盯着它的时候，他感觉……不对，不知怎么的，就是不对。一种不连贯的感觉，不好也不坏。

　　他又盯着第二个光点。同样的感觉。

　　然后他把目光转向第三个光点——一股恐惧和紧张的感觉立刻贯穿了他。单只是盯着它就让他汗流不止，它甚至似乎在他的视野里放大了开来，尽管他知道这仅是幻觉。

　　“就是它了，”他轻声说道，用手指着第三个光点，霍尼尔校准了星图，把中心点定位在那颗星球上。

　　“了解，长官，”霍尼尔道，屏幕上出现了一系列上升的字符，“起航？”

　　这时雷纳却犹豫了一下。那星球一定是他梦中所见的那颗，这点他相当确定。凯瑞甘也一定就在那儿。

　　他头一个冲动就是抓过一艘侦查船，然后独自一人全速前往。但那显然极不明智。塔松尼斯毁在了虫群手中，而凯瑞甘当时就在那儿。她不可能逃出那里的。这就意味着它们俘虏了她。这样梦境中的那些怪物——Zerg也就能解释得通了。不过，不知为何，他预感到那些Zerg绝对比他遇见过的任何Zerg都更为强大、更为可怕。

　　这里的关键不是机动。而是速度。速度和火力。

　　当然还有其它。自从他们袭击了船厂，雷纳已经好久没有像今天这样充满干劲和活力了。他又找到了一项人生目标。不管是不是最后一次，但眼下这是足够了的。而他的部下们同样需要目标。他们希望他领导他们？好罢，现在他就领他们去一个地方。

　　他从指挥椅旁边经过，拿过麦克风，将开关拨到全舰广播的位置。“各单位注意，”他宣布道，“这里是詹姆斯？雷纳。我们即将展开一项救援行动。有可靠消息表明，我们的一些朋友在塔松尼斯上被Zerg俘获了。我想他们被带到了另一个星球上，我有那里的坐标。”他又回忆起了梦中那紧迫的场景，不由得握紧了手里的麦克风，“我们不能眼睁睁看着这些恶心的爬虫吞没我们的朋友。我们将前往那里大开杀戒，把他们救回来，将一切挡路的Zerg轰至渣。”他深吸了口气，继续说，“我们将在两小时后出发。不想去的人现在就可以离开了。我不会做任何事逼你们留下。因为这次行动可能是极其愚蠢的。我们很可能一去不归。如果你们没做好心理准备，那就不要跟去。”他又瞟了一眼大屏幕，那个光点似乎正冲他眨眼。“只要那里有我们的人，我们就算把那个星球翻过来也要找到他们。不救出他们我们决不返航。”

　　他关掉了麦克风，把它扔给了霍尼尔。“玛特，起航，全速推进。”

　　“是，长官！”激动地霍尼尔立刻开始输入指令。突然，他停了下来，抬头望着雷纳：“长官，您真的那么想？真的有一批朋友被困在那里？而且还是被Zerg抓去的？”

　　“希望如此，玛特，”雷纳回答道，转过身去盯着那个光点，“我当然希望这是事实。”

　　两小时后，休伯利安的空间跃迁准备完成。他手下反抗组织的其余飞船也尾随其后。四百多人中，只有十个人在出发前留了下来。剩下的人全体表示愿接受这个任务，及其可能导致的任何后果。大部分人极其兴奋，甚至有些兴奋过度。他知道为什么：拯救落难同胞的想法只是部分原因。他们高兴的是他终于开始采取果断行动了。他们渴望服从他领导。而他只希望自己并不是在将他们引向末日。

　　雷纳坐在休伯利安的舰长椅上，看着窗外漆黑的太空。周围的空间开始折叠，巨舰慢慢脱离了实体宇宙，向着他梦中的那个星球全速驶去，那是个被灰烬覆盖着的世界。

　　我们来了，凯瑞甘，他在心底里呼唤着她。希望你还在那里，因为我们来救你了。

第二章

　　两周之后，雷纳站在舰桥之上，俯视着这颗被他命名为查尔的行星。甚至在霍尼尔将休伯利安驶进高空轨道之前，他就能看到这个纯灰色的星球上冒出的数处烟柱，总有一些橘黄或金色的闪光作为它们出现的先兆。初步扫描显示，整个行星正遭受着频繁喷发的火山的折磨，某些区域的地表似乎极不稳定，正受到其下高温岩浆的影响而缓慢地漂移。抵达这里的途中确实经过了一颗巨大的红色行星，他们小心地避开了它那宽阔的金色光环，将飞船停在了查尔的大气圈外，并仔细侦查了那两颗卫星。

　　显而易见，查尔一定就是他梦中的那个世界。那些噩梦仍在每夜纠缠着他，有时候甚至出现在白天。

　　是的，它们越来越严重了。他越来越频繁地梦见它们。跃迁旅行让人虚脱——人体本来就不被设计为能适应如此高速的移动的，在超空间接受的信息也不是人脑所能处理得了的。正因如此，这几天他和大家一样，每天都要不分场合地打好几次瞌睡，从几分钟到一小时不等。而那些梦照例每次他一闭上眼就回来了。

　　它们变得每次都不一样了。那些形似Zerg的怪兽们依然在梦中追击着他，但他可以周旋的空间却越来越少，能逃开的距离越来越短，幸存的机会也越来越渺茫。而怪物们的身形随着距离的迫近显得越来越巨大，直到掩盖了天空。

　　梦中，他自己的身体也像是被改变了形状。被拉伸、扭曲、折叠、抽移，像是有了自己的意识，并且开始极力摆脱主人的意志。一开始他没对此多加在意，以为只是自己的霉运又发扬了一两次——被地上的小石头绊倒，在崎岖的地面上崴了脚，枪柄从手里滑脱。然而梦中的事实是，他的身体在和自己作对：它站在了怪物们那一方，努力在为他的被抓事业作出着贡献。

　　他的喊叫声也越来越弱了。那声“吉米！”已经轻如耳语，轻如蚊蝇，轻如游丝，只因他的喉咙也在不断地背叛着他。甚至，那喉咙间发出的声音也不再是他自己的了。最后的那个梦里，他呆立在原地一动不动，静待着怪物们的降临，直到被它们团团围住。然后他彻底屈服了，转过身去，张开双臂迎接它们。他听见自己的嗓子里涌出了一股狂笑，胜利的、喜悦的、兴奋的狂笑，还有其他什么东西。那是当他惊醒之时，渗入了他的身体的一句话，那是一种令他寒毛倒竖，令他全身每一个细胞都在为之战栗的东西。

　　“目睹这即将诞生的伟大力量吧！”

　　每一个字都让他冷到了骨头里。因为他虽然不知道说话者是谁，却能确定它们谈论的是他。确切地说，是她。凯瑞甘。它们在对她做什么？坚持住啊，雷纳绝望地想着。那天早上，他跌跌撞撞地扎进浴室，猛地将头塞到喷头之下，意图让水流冲走那噩梦的痕迹。坚持住啊，凯瑞甘。我们就快到了

　　而现在，他终于到了，站在休伯利安的舰桥上，俯视着真实的查尔，心里明白，凯瑞甘一定就在下面某处。

　　如果他的梦够真实，那么Zerg也一定在此。虽然目前没有看到它们一丁点影子，但雷纳明白这根本不意味着什么。虫群拥有着致命的潜伏能力，甚至能躲过最强力的扫描。天哪，想想他住在玛萨拉那段时间，他可能已经在这帮家伙的上面吃喝住行了好几个月而对自己的处境一无所知。有时候他想起这事也不由得后怕，如果当初他没有在那个边哨站稍作停留，或是没有正巧在那里遇到并救了迈克，他现在会变成啥样？是成为无数死难者的一员，然后尸体像星球上的其他东西一样被Protoss彻底抹煞；还是他注定会在玛萨拉灭亡之前背井离乡家乡，为某项宿命中的任务浪迹于星海之中？

　　“长官！”霍尼尔的叫喊将雷纳一个激灵拉回了现实，他转过头去，注意到了查尔的一面出现了一个漂浮物，很快，他就认出那是一艘帝国战舰。

　　“我看到了，”雷纳向他的副官确认道。他走到了一个能看得更清楚的位置：“我们能在这个距离辨认出它么？”

　　“可以，长官。”霍尼尔的十指再次在键盘上舞蹈起来，一秒钟后结果就出现了。当听到霍尼尔咽了口口水时，雷纳已经猜到了结果。“是诺洛德Ⅲ，长官。”

　　诺洛德Ⅲ。杜克将军的战舰。“好极了，”雷纳盯着那飞船，慢慢地踱到了指挥椅边，“有其它支援飞船的迹象么？”

　　“两艘运兵船，一艘科研艇，外加一艘货运飞船，”霍尼尔确认道。现在，雷纳也看到了大船周围的那些小点。

　　“没有其它战舰了吗？”

　　霍尼尔对着屏幕皱了皱眉，又重复输入了一遍刚才的命令，似乎对结果感到难以置信。“确实没有，长官，”最终他确认了这一点，“只有诺洛德Ⅲ。”

　　“哈。”雷纳摸着下巴开始了沉思。确切地说，诺洛德Ⅲ并不孤独——当然，它边上还有四艘支援艇，可以说是一个小型舰队了。不过玛特是站在太空战的角度看问题的，在他看来重要飞船的只有战舰和附属于它们的战斗机。如果杜克来此是想打仗，那么他背后肯定会跟着半打战舰。现在的情况至少意味着：这不是一场针对他或查尔一次进攻。另一方面，杜克肯定也预计不到他会来这儿——就算休伯利安里真有孟斯克安插的间谍（这是可能的），也只有他自己和霍尼尔知道这里的坐标。而霍尼尔这么理想主义的人是绝不可能背叛他的。如果杜克不是来对付他的，那又是来做什么的呢？而且就带了这么点部队。话说回来，诺洛德Ⅲ毕竟也是艘重型战舰，世上屈指可数的巨兽级战舰之一，可以装载一千多名士兵外加两打星际战机，因此杜克也并不是全无防卫。另外，那几艘运输船也表明他拥有充足的地面部队。如今这个时代，除非你不想彻底摧毁一个区域，否则没人会出动陆军。可查尔表面还有什么是可摧毁的呢。

　　“只有一个方法知道答案，”雷纳对霍尼尔点了点头。年轻人会意地站到一边，给雷纳让出座位。“玛特，”雷纳坐上了豪华的指挥椅，对着霍尼尔发令，“用公共频段给诺洛德Ⅲ发条信息。随便说什么，不过别跟他们客气。”

　　年轻人像是见了疯子般盯着他，但依言照做。没多久，正前方一个屏幕上的查尔图像消失了，代之一张方下巴、粗眉毛、尖脑袋、银头发的熟悉面孔。

　　“雷纳！”埃德蒙德？杜克将军没等信号稳定就开骂了，“你够胆自个儿钻出来了，你这个臭狗屎！我现在就过来毙了你！”

　　“那你最好打得准些，”看见了这家伙，雷纳的火气不由自主地升了起来。该死的，杜克总让他怒火中烧！他学着孟斯克常做的一个手势，尽力伸长十指，努力不让自己因愤怒而握出拳头。“想拿下我们，你那点火力还不够看，”雷纳直揭对方要害，“诺洛德Ⅲ或许可以抵掉休伯利安，可我们其它船有十多艘，而你只有四艘，而且几乎没有战斗能力。”他欣赏着杜克脸上爆出的青筋，并且知道这老头对他说的也是心知肚明。接下去，两人一言不发地对瞪了足足一分钟。

　　杜克首先打破了沉默：“你来这儿干什么？无家可归打算在这儿占山为王？”

　　“我也想问你这个问题哪，”雷纳向前倾了倾身体，“你又大老远跑来这里干什么？帝国终于觉得你失去利用价值了？”

　　“我来这儿是要执行一项特殊任务，”将军装腔作势地说，“皇帝陛下指示我亲自完成这个任务。”

　　“真的？那一定是个很重要的任务咯，”雷纳道。一直努力着不露声色的他终于支持不住了，他露齿讥讽道：“是要你帮他捡回丢出去的瓶子？还是舔他的鞋底？”他看到老头子眯起了眼睛，明显是被气伤了。杜克就是那么容易被激怒。

　　不过他的敌手并没有就此倒下。杜克还不至于这么脆弱，尽管他人品恶劣可并不愚蠢。“你不想知道吗？”他勉强报之一笑，“不，我赌你肯定想知道。实际上，我还赌你来这里和我是一个目的。”

　　难道杜克也做了那些梦？不，那是不可能的——凯瑞甘和雷纳一样鄙视这个家伙。但他来这儿又不大可能是出于其它原因。不，没准被托梦的是孟斯克。尽管凯瑞甘的死都要归罪于孟斯克的背叛，可是她和孟斯克确实一度极为亲近，凯瑞甘也曾是这位前恐怖分子最信任的副官。或许她也和他联系过，然后他为了自己的利益派杜克来找她？可是雷纳没把这些想法写在脸上，他不动声色地回答道：“哦，是什么目的呢。”

　　“别跟我装，小朋友，”杜克打断道，“我知道这里发生了什么。比你知道得还多一点，实际上。”他看上去获得了精神胜利，不像是个身处绝境的人。

　　“你什么都不知道，”雷纳回道，虽然心里不大有底。他不大习惯和人玩暗讽，因此很希望迈克就在身边。利伯蒂显然在对话方面更有天赋，如果他在这儿，眼下只怕连杜克老妈的秘史都套出来了。

　　“哦，我什么都不知道？”这次杜克露出了得意的笑容，“你最近睡得香吗，小朋友？”

　　他真知道！雷纳不由得在椅子上向后靠了靠。否则他不可能这样问。孟斯克一定也做了同样的梦！

　　“啧啧啧，不幸言中了呢，”杜克哈哈大笑，雷纳意识到自己没能控制住那份惊讶，“我就说了，我知道这儿发生了什么。如果你还想活，就别碍我的事儿。不跟你废话了。”

　　“接着说呀，老爷爷，”雷纳反击道，\"你可以继续呆在你那铁壳飞船里耍嘴皮子的，我不会生气的，真的。

　　老头的脸变得有些惨白，双眼几乎眯成了一条缝，发出的声音已经不止是咆哮级别的了：“听清楚，乡巴佬！鬼才会听你这种自以为是革命者的暴动分子的话呢！”他脸上的青筋更加明显了。雷纳甚至觉得自己能听见对方磨牙的声音。“你现在还没被我撕烂只是因为我还有一条鱼要炸！但你若敢再吐出一句废话，我就先解决你！把你像一只真正的狗一样溺死。我会亲自在你那漂亮的飞船上钻个洞，然后把我的靴子塞进你的臭嘴——”

　　雷纳干脆切断连接信号，坐回了他的椅子上。他感觉哪里有些不对。或许是和凯瑞甘处久了的缘故吧，他也开始相信自己的直觉。

　　刚才的交流有哪里不大对。杜克恨死了他，这点是自然；因为他也同样讨厌杜克。不过那老头的威胁并不只是虚张声势，特别是最后的那几句。杜克自鸣得意的那一点——他知道得比雷纳多——也不是一个谎言。雷纳现在基本确信凯瑞甘也托梦给了孟斯克，然后杜克正是孟斯克派来的。那么，又是什么让他觉得不对？

　　他明白了，那是杜克对开战的犹豫。这点确实不同寻常。那男的基本上是疯狗一只。雷纳还记得，自己在战争时期曾多次被孟斯克派出去制约这家伙，以免这将军越权行动或是盲目冲锋以致毁了孟斯克布置的大局。换在平时，杜克即便只有诺洛德Ⅲ一艘飞船也会毫不犹豫地冲上来跟他拼命，再不济也会象征性地开一两炮。何况他现在还有两艘运兵船，即使两艘船载量都只有一半，这些兵力也足以使他发动一场有胜算的强行登舰作战。他为什么不干？

　　“玛特，”雷纳喊道，霍尼尔立刻站到了他的肘边。雷纳有些想笑，不过那样会对年轻人有所冒犯：“你确定诺洛德Ⅲ是附近唯一的战舰了？”

　　“显然，长官。”霍尼尔有力地点了下头，“我又进行了一次彻底扫描，结果再次确认：她孤身一人。”

　　“嗯。”当然，那也可能只证明孟斯克眼下调不出太多飞船。或是他觉得诺洛德Ⅲ足以完成这次任务。“她还好吧？”

　　霍尼尔立即会意。这也是雷纳喜欢他的地方——这小伙子总能领会他说出的一些口头短语。“武器舱门打开，防护罩打开。她显然处于战斗模式。”他皱了下眉，“我还发现两件奇怪的事，长官。”雷纳示意他继续。“那两艘运兵船载量读数远不足一半。而且我在查尔表面捕捉到了一条求救信号。是诺洛德Ⅲ的。”

　　“要再试试么？”雷纳看了眼屏幕上的查尔，诺洛德Ⅲ漂浮在行星的一边，像是一个小小的泥点。不过她显然在那儿。

　　哈，或许她并不全在那儿。

　　“再给我接杜克，”他命令道，霍尼尔依言上前操作。不一会杜克的老脸又出现在了他们眼前。雷纳满意地发现老头子的嘴正好闭着。

　　“你下去过了吧？”没等将军张嘴开骂，他就一句话塞了上去，“你已经登陆过星球表面。你的运兵船基本都空了。另外我们还捕获了从你一艘船上发出的信号——你的一艘穿梭机。而现在它还在下面。”他边说边欣赏着杜克脸上的表情，这老头子把嘴唇闭得紧紧的。雷纳有点怀疑他会不会呼吸困难。“你在搜索那片区域的时候损失了你大部分人和至少一艘穿梭机。”他又一次倾了倾身体，“怎么了杜克？当地人的欢迎你承受不起么？还是你已经有什么把柄落他们手上了？”

　　“管好你的舌头，乡巴佬！”杜克终于忍不住了，“你去试试呀！你行！你能！你能被那帮Zerg生吃了吧！”

　　“那么你们果然已经遭遇过了，”雷纳顿了顿，“它们的欢迎相当热烈吧，嗯？”他笑了起来，“孟斯克肯定会不高兴的。派你来做这么点事，结果你忠诚地把它搞砸了，哈。”

　　“闭嘴！”杜克嚎了起来，“我没失败！她不在这儿！就算她在，也是和整个虫群在一起！这里是Zerg的总部！没人能从这里救走她的！没有人！”当他意识到自己泄露了什么时已经晚了，接下去他只好把嘴巴紧紧闭上。

　　“我能，”雷纳坚定地说，然后再次立即切断了通信。他靠回了椅背上，兴奋和恐惧的心情同时袭向他的内心。

　　凯瑞甘真的在这里！杜克的嘴证明了这点。至少可以说孟斯克也相信她在这里，这也就意味着他雷纳的脑袋并没有出问题。即便这只是Zerg设下的一个圈套，去闯闯看也好过在呆在这里胡思乱想。

　　这是兴奋的部分。那些梦真的是凯瑞甘的呼唤，她希望他能来此。来到这颗行星。更何况她或许还活着。

　　然而接下去的想法让他一阵胆寒。因为这里就是他梦中的世界，而梦中的Zerg比他曾见过的任何Zerg更为可怕。现在他知道它们也真的在这里：它们已经击败了杜克，并把他赶出了行星表面。至少有一点他必须承认：杜克在打仗方面确实很厉害。诺洛德Ⅲ更是一艘全副武装的顶级战列巡航舰。他们还带了两艘满载陆军的运兵船，可能已经是孟斯克最近能抽调出的最多人力了。可他们连阵地都没能守住，甚至可能连正常降落都没做到。显然，这些状况意味着Zerg的兵力及其庞大。

　　可他还是得下去。他明白这一点。都已经走到这一步了；如果就此驻足，他是一定不会原谅自己的。更重要的是，凯瑞甘也不会。但他的兄弟们怎么办？一群被视为贱民的叛国贼就能在杜克大军失守的阵地上坚持下去么？

　　他的头脑中再一次充满了矛盾。为一个甚至还不知道死活的女子而让他们集体涉险，他有那个权利吗？他能让他们用自己的生命作赌注去换她的吗？如果他这样做了，他又是什么样的领导人？

　　“长官？”霍尼尔站在一边，“您的指令是？”

　　雷纳将双手蒙上了自己的眼睛，尽力说服着自己。他很想告诉玛特他不知道，他的内心充满了疑惑和矛盾。但他很快克制住了这种冲动。那不是霍尼尔想听的。谁都不会想听到这些。他从孟斯克那儿学来了一件事，那就是不动声色的重要性。即便你心里在翻江倒海也不该显露出任何迹象。至少对于一个领袖来说，这是必要的。你必须摆出一幅处变不惊的面孔，用沉着的语调清晰地说出你的目标。否则你的人民将对你失去信心。那将比任何错误更加严重，甚至比牺牲人命更加严重，因为一旦失去信心，他们将变得和你一样的软弱，和你一样的不堪一击。

　　“我们得下去了，”他宣布。他坐了下来，开始输入命令以切换到全舰队广播频段。“基本可以确定诺洛德Ⅲ不会来搅和了，”看着兴奋的霍尼尔，雷纳拿过了麦克风。“所有飞船注意，”他宣布，“这里是雷纳。我们即将登陆。我重复一遍，我们即将登陆。各飞船进行登陆编组，全副武装，切换到战斗模式。准备接战。下面的迎接将非常热烈。”

　　他挂回了麦克风，站了起来。发现控制台前的霍尼尔行动僵硬。“长官！”

　　“出什么事了？”他立刻站到了年轻人的一旁。

　　“诺洛德Ⅲ打开了船舱，长官！”

　　“什么？”雷纳把脸贴近了显示器，仔细看着屏幕上升起的信息。难道他的话已经把杜克逼到了强行攻击的地步了？

　　“一艘穿梭机三艘星际战机，”霍尼尔边破译着滚动信息边说，“目标向着星球表面，长官。”

　　雷纳向后靠了靠，点了点头。耳边听到霍尼尔如释重负的吐气声。这并不是一次进攻，至少不是针对他们的。他确实把杜克逼得开始行动了，不过并不是来和他们拼命——杜克准备回到地面上再次搜索凯瑞甘的下落，或是尝试救回地面上的幸存者。不管是哪个，都不是坏事情。没准他们还可以起到些牵制作用，让他的兄弟们更安全地来去。

　　“玛特，这船现在就交给你了，”他拍了一下年轻人的后背，“等我回来的时候，你可得确保她还在这里，嗯？”小伙子点了点头，脸上写满了自豪。雷纳知道霍尼尔愿以生命为代价守护休伯利安。他只希望事态不至于演变至此。

　　好罢，既然我们都到了。他走出舰桥，向着机舱踱去的时候这样对自己说。是该下去看一看了。

第三章

　　无论从何种角度来讲，查尔都跟他梦中的一样难看。雷纳刚跳下穿梭机，心里就这样想着。他的靴子碾进了地表里，在他脚边扬起一阵阵烟灰。他十分庆幸自己有戴呼吸面罩下来。哦，还有眼睛上的那副护目镜。他原本是打算穿战甲下来的，不过最后还是选择穿成目前这样——虽然战斗套装能增强他的力量，也能抵抗一些小的伤害，可却不适合在狭小空间里行动，电力供应也有限。何况，他是亲眼见过Zerg怎样把这种东西当豆腐切的。因此还是多寄望于自己的敏捷属性比较好，特别是他的摩托车不在手边的时候。

　　他瞥了一眼刚升起的太阳，又仔细观察了一下地面。阴荒，用这个词就可以概括了。极目所处只有岩石和灰尘，天空中漂浮着烟柱、尘埃和点点火星。别说是植物和动物，整个星球上的活物好像只有他的这支部队。现在，他们都已经下了飞机，分成小队集结在了各处。这是他下来前就指示过的。他这次不希望集团行动——太容易暴露了。分散成小队四处查探、绘制地图相对较安全。运气好的话某支分队能发现虫群，甚至神不知鬼不觉地找到凯瑞甘。

　　“很好，”他通过指挥频段喊道，“全体人员分组散开，小心行动，不要认错目标。记住，在这里对付Zerg的不止我们，老朋友杜克将军的人也在附近。”他深吸了口气，周围严酷的环境已经给了他极大的压力。“希望这次行动不是个错误……”他轻轻地说，希望没人听见最后这一句。

　　雷纳关了通话器，将来复枪抗在肩上，示意自己分队的人集合。如果有人想要创造一个充满敌意的星球，那这颗再合适不过了。梦中的这里就已给了他一种悲怆的感觉，而现在这感觉更加强烈了。不过，相对起梦中的自己，他目前却有两点优势。

　　首先，他头脑清醒携带武器行动谨慎。

　　其次，他并不孤独。

　　他打算彻底发挥这两点优势。

　　“我打算向西北边搜索。”他对莉萨？曼妮丝说道，这位军士长现在是他的副指挥，“小心低调行事。我们不清楚它们躲在哪里。”

　　“是，长官。”她刷地行了个军礼，然后开始将其余人结对组织起来，并将他们各自负责的区域标在了网格坐标上。冷静又能干的曼妮丝从未显露过明显的怒意，这点让雷纳尤为赏识。还在孟斯克帐下的时候，她就曾和他多次合作过。后来她说她无法容忍塔松尼斯上发生的事，因此加入了反抗军，这让雷纳十分高兴。休伯利安上的她十分随和、友善，甚至有点花。不过一到了下面，她的心思立刻全摆到了工作上，下来不到几分钟，她就让所有人行动了起来，在这片大地上搜索敌人——或是他们想要搭救的那名女子。

　　“长官，您最好看看这个！”说话的是一名摩托兵，恰克？埃尔斯。这个年长些的矮个子曾在杜克手下干过，然后跟着杜克投靠了孟斯克，最后又逃了出来。他是雷纳最为提防的一个，一直把他安排在身边以随时注意他。不过到目前为止，埃尔斯没表现出任何可疑之处，反倒是帮上了不少忙。他现在正和他的搭档阿里？彼得站在一起，手上的枪不敢怠慢地指着地上的一道小裂缝。雷纳走到了他们身边，曼妮丝也跟了上来。

　　“研究一下吧。”埃尔斯指着那道地缝。雷纳开始仔细地端详了起来。它很小，不到三英寸长，几乎呈一个完美的圆形，洞口周围堆着一圈土。这不像是个泄水孔或是地热口——或是一种入口。这里的灰尘相对较薄，暴露出了底下黑色的岩石。洞里十分粗糙，但洞口却像刀切过一样整齐。

　　“小型火山吧，”曼妮丝边假设边俯身细看，“这星球只怕到处是这东西。我们走路的时候得小心点了。”

　　“嗯。”雷纳也蹲了下来，盯着洞口说，“不过也可能会通到什么地下洞穴。”大家都明白他的意思。Zerg明显喜欢地下生活。如果这个洞真是一个地下通道体系的一部分，那就极有可能直指虫群的心脏地带。

　　曼妮丝看了眼洞口。“对我们来说小了点，”她最后判断，“很容易被挤住，”她皱了皱眉，“对大部分Zerg来说也这样。”

　　雷纳点头起身，漫不经心地掸了掸裤子上积的灰。她说的对——这种口子只适合Zerg迅猛兽进出。这洞或许确实通往虫群中心，但却不够让雷纳和他的战友们进去探索，甚至不够让Zerg在里面对他们进行伏击。

　　“在这里放个感应器，”他走开的时候告诉埃尔斯，“我们得盯紧这儿。嗯，干得好。”这士兵敬了个礼，然后立刻伸手去拿他的行囊。每个摩托兵至少都会带着一个感应器，它们和所有人的通信设备相连。如果有Zerg爬出这个洞，大家都会收到一条警告信息。

　　搜索工作继续进行，曼妮丝确保着没有一个在小组偷懒。雷纳端着来复枪警惕地站在她身边，不过他的更多心思还是放在接听来自各处的报告上。

　　“找到了一个洞！”有人宣布。然后又传来消息：“太小了，正在放置感应器。”其余小组也都是差不多的结果。这片区域里发现了不少火山，其中大部分有最近还在活动的迹象。地表也因为火山的活动而显得斑斑驳驳的。从分散开始，整个地图测绘和侦查工作正好花了十分钟。

　　“我找到Zerg了！”有人喊道。雷纳辨识出了他的身份，是尼米兹号上的乘员的兰斯？米歇尔。雷纳召唤曼妮丝和其余人跟上，然后向米歇尔的位置跑了过去。

　　穿梭机尼米兹和他们自己的那艘离得不远。而整个队伍还没有散得很开。因此当雷纳竭尽全力跑到那里的时候，又只花了十分钟。他还怕自己已经来迟了，不过等他急停下来的时候，那个年轻的队员还好好地站在那儿。

　　“在哪里？”雷纳端起了枪，警惕地扫视了一遍周围区域。米歇尔却往地上一指，雷纳才知道他们找到的又是一道地缝。这个和前一个的形状不大一样，是一道狭长深邃的裂缝。他可以一直看到这缝隙的深处，而那里确实有什么东西在动。

　　“你们确定这些是Zerg？”他问道，米歇尔立刻点点头，表情有些兴奋。

　　“是的，长官！”米歇尔回答，“我听到了它们的声音，长官！那确实是它们的声音，像一群巨甲虫在鸣叫着嗷嗷待哺。”一个带主观倾向的推断，但在这个星球上，却也不大可能有其他生物会造成这种混淆。

　　曼妮丝和整个班也已经陆陆续续赶到了，雷纳弯下腰观察起那个裂缝。米歇尔说的对，确实有那种声音。它们显然是Zerg。距离并不是很近，甚至无法辨认清楚，但是它们在那儿是没错的了。

　　“很好，我们找到Zerg了，”他站起身来宣布，“他们并没有从这里上来，但我们已经可以确定它们就在脚下。做好心理准备，也许他们也发现我们了。现在我希望我们两个班组联合行动。”他看向曼妮丝，曼妮丝点了点头。“切换为防御阵型。不过我们还得继续搜索，因为这里下不去。”

　　等曼妮丝重新安排好各个分组以后，雷纳用食指和拇指拧了拧鼻梁，闭上眼睛想要缓解刚涌上来的头疼感————却发现自己孤身一人站在原地，天空变得一片昏暗，刚才的太阳不见了，月亮高挂在他头顶。他的来复枪、手枪甚至他绑手枪的靴子，也都一并消失了。他站在那儿，赤裸的脚趾间全渗进了灰烬。远方的地平线似乎变得更黑暗了，但那不是夜幕降临的那种黑色，而是一种生物的黑色，一股由活物组成潮水正向他涌来，他们晦暗的皮肤吞没了奄奄一息的光明。

　　过了多久？似乎是一瞬间，他就已处在了它们的包围中。他蒙头乱转，想找到一条生路。可是毫无结果。它们无处不在，包围着他，慢慢地向他挤来，利爪和骨镰不断切划着他的全身。它们淹没了他，他的身影迷失在了它们影子里。可让他恐惧的却是，从他体内升起的一股解脱感。那不单是解脱感，甚至是喜悦、兴奋——他乐意见到它们！他为它们的追捕而喜悦，为它们的接近而喜悦，为它们的碰触而喜悦。它们的肢翼繁杂地架住了他的身体，甚至有些分不清彼此，而他对这点也甚为满意。他很满意自己是它们中的一员。

　　它们中的一员。

　　“长官？”

　　有人在碰他的手臂，雷纳立刻反射性地往回一跳，端起枪准备开火。才发现正对着他枪口的是张大了嘴的曼妮丝。组里的人员都聚在她背后静待着命令。而刚才曾蹲在裂缝边观察的米歇尔，现在也依旧站在原地，动作和他闭眼前一模一样。一秒钟，最多两秒，原来他刚才只是走神了那么一瞬间。可自己却觉得已经过了很久很久，至少久到能让他陷入梦境。我刚才睡着了？或只是因为精神波在这星球上更加强烈了？

　　“我们走，”雷纳命令道。曼妮丝点了点头，有了新任务在手，就算她刚才有什么困惑也放在一边了。他们组和尼米兹的组合并了起来，以裂缝为中心开始巡视，不放过任何一个角落。这样必然会减慢搜索进度，但是显然更为安全。何况现在Zerg就在他们脚底下，雷纳不打算抱任何侥幸心理。

　　“长官，我们有麻烦了。”是霍尼尔从他的私密线路传话而来。雷纳

　　在回话前先确认指挥线路已经关闭，以免这次谈话被广播出去。

　　“怎么了，玛特？”他问。他们都已经找了好几个钟头了，可却还没找到一个可用的入口。沿途圆洞和裂缝倒是遇到了不少，通过它们可以确定Zerg还在下面。也就是说，即使虫群侦测到了他们的存在，也还没有发动攻击。它们要么不知道，要么有更重要的事情要做，雷纳想。

　　“我们检测到了一些迅息，长官，”霍尼尔回道，“有飞船在接近这里。”

　　“杜克的援军？”

　　“不，长官，”霍尼尔回答。他不舒服的声音让雷纳感到紧张，不管来的是什么，他的副官竟然宁可来的是Terran帝国的战舰，这可不好玩了。“是Protoss，长官，”霍尼尔说出了答案。

　　雷纳有一种想要举枪乱射的冲动。

　　Protoss。现在。来了。

　　在某种程度上讲，这非常合理。但凡他看到有Zerg的地方，Protoss必然随之而至。这些高大、优雅的异形时常在Zerg感染掉一个星球后出现，然后将星球整个抹净——不止上面的Zerg，而是一切：所有的高等生命形态，所有的文明迹象。他们就是这样对待玛萨拉的，就是这样对待他的家的。Zerg和Protoss两族是宿敌。Protoss似乎执意要抹煞Zerg的一切痕迹，像星际杀虫剂一样紧跟着它们，焚毁一个个星球以阻止虫群的蔓延。如果这里有Zerg，自然也会有Protoss。至少是将会。

　　“随时向我汇报情况，”他告诉霍尼尔，不过心里却在合计一种可能性。之前为了消灭Zerg，他们曾和Protoss合作过几次——Zerg想感染和吸收人类的生命而Protoss就是想阻止Zerg，因此这种同盟也就自然而然地形成了。他能再和Protoss做笔交易吗？他上次见到他们还是在塔松尼斯，当时孟斯克不顾眼前的共同敌人，把枪头调向了Protoss。他是想靠Psi发射器吸引Zerg大军来毁灭联邦的首都，因此不想让Protoss妨碍到这计划。这也是致使雷纳出走的部分原因——但Protoss知道内情吗？甚至，他们会关心这些吗？

　　“他们是怎么找到这地方的？”他百思不得其解，也不管边上曼妮丝疑惑的眼神。以前Protoss每一次登场都因种种原因而没跟上虫群的蔓延。比如虫群曾在在玛萨拉和绰萨拉悄无声息地埋伏了好几周甚至几个月，而Protoss总是来迟一步，等他们赶到，Zerg也都行动完了。那么现在他们是来干什么的？Zerg在查尔已经潜伏了那么久以致被Protoss觉察了？若当真如此，它们显然已熟悉了这里的一切地形，并布下了遍地陷阱——而雷纳已经把他的战士们领进了一个杀戮场。

　　但如果Protoss来这儿是另有原因呢？会不会是，这次他们并不是追踪Zerg来此？Zerg都有通灵能力，雷纳知道——整个虫群的成员彼此都有精神链接，可以在在一整个星球的跨度内瞬间联系。他怀疑Protoss也有这种能力，尽管他们的个体似乎拥有更多的自主意识。虽然他不认为Protoss也拥有一个支配所有成员的唯一意识，但若他们能利用精神波的话会如何？凯瑞甘强大得无法想像，她的精神波能穿越宇宙空间，联络到他和孟斯克。那么她会不会也联络了Protoss？又或许他们只是中途截获了那些梦境，仅由于那股精神波太过明显？那些梦境明显跟Zerg有关，这应该足够吸引Protoss来此了。

　　当然，这依然不意味着他们来这儿会是什么好事。他们还是倾向毁灭被Zerg感染过的任何星球。而查尔显然在此列。

　　“听仔细，伙计们，”雷纳在指挥频段宣布，“Protoss也来了。我们还不知道他们会站哪边。不要主动开枪，但也不要放下戒备。”

　　如果他们运气好，他边想边向曼妮丝招手，Zerg会专注于Protoss而忽略了他。没准Protoss还会直接炸出个通向地底通道的大孔，而他就可以跟他们后面进去了。尽管这事不大可能。

　　“我想知道他们的登陆点，”他告诉曼妮丝，“他们或许能帮我们进去。但必须有所准备，我一旦下令就立刻撤回穿梭机。因为他们也许会使用天基激光武器轰炸这里，那样我们就得逃回休伯利安，等待硝烟散尽再来。”

　　“是，长官。”她扫了一眼四周，“目前我们还是没有任何入口，长官。如果Protoss也没法给我们指出入口的话，您打算在这里观望多久？”

　　雷纳回忆了一下那些梦境，还有凯瑞甘。“能待多久就待多久，军士长。”

　　然而他心中的某一部分却知道，其实并没有那么多时间让他待。他的梦已经变得越来越狂乱扭曲。他能感受到凯瑞甘的催促。不管将要发生的是什么，都不会太久了。

　　“我们找到了一个洞！”有人喊道。雷纳立刻挥去了心头的不祥预感，向那个士兵跑去。那是迪克？卡维兹，雷纳所在小队中最年轻的人。他是个瘦高个，体能十分好，可以凭两只脚跑赢一辆悬浮摩托。现在他正和他的搭档梅琳达？斯奎尔一起站在一个坑边，而雷纳已经可以看到这个坑比之前找到的那些大多了。它的直径至少有五英尺，单是边沿堆起的那圈土就有整整三英尺高。总体呈一个矮圆锥形。外表面十分粗糙，铺满了灰烬，但洞的内壁却有着明显的黑色岩石光泽。

　　“这个够大了，”曼妮丝望向洞里，确认了一下，“而且似乎也通往地下通道，我们应该可以——”突然，洞里伸出了一把骨刃，她的后半句话因退避而被截断。雷纳扶住了差点摔了跟头的她，将她推远，同时用来复枪挡住了骨刃。一只蛇样的生物和他的枪筒一起从洞里升了起来，闪耀着火光的双眼探向了他，镶有镰刀的两个前肢已经摆好了姿势，随时准备第二次攻击。

　　一只刺蛇怪。雷纳以前见过很多——见鬼，就是一只刺蛇和几只迅猛兽促成了他和迈克？利伯蒂的第一次见面。那次见面让他的人生轨迹一度和孟斯克与凯瑞甘相交。也是那次见面所引发的一切让他最终站到了这里。他之所以能成为今天的他，着实要归功于这些刺蛇怪，他欠它们好大一份情。

　　于是他用手中的高斯来复枪还了这份情，将一排钉刺弹射进了对方的脑袋。强烈的冲击令它倒在了地面上，它眼睛里辉光也跟着暗淡了下去。这家伙还没来得及看清雷纳就死了，而雷纳希望它甚至还没来得及将他们的方位汇报给虫群。

　　“没事？”他看了一眼已经站稳了的曼妮丝。她点了点头。“所有分队，集合。入口已经找到。我们准备进去了。但是注意——Zerg就在里面，而且它们知道这个入口。希望它们还不知道我们来了。”

　　但有人已经知道了，看着卡维兹和斯奎尔跳进洞里，他这样想道，接着埃尔斯和彼得也跳了下去。

　　凯瑞甘一定知道我们来了。

　　我来了，亲爱的。我来了。

　　现在轮到他和曼妮丝了。扛起了自己的来复枪，雷纳一头扎进了那片黑暗之中。

第四章

　　结果这火山口原来是个狭长斜道的顶部。洞壁冷却已久。不过此处曾喷发过的高温熔岩早已使岩层晶化，令岩壁变得像水面一样光滑完美。雷诺像铅块一样滑下，四肢不时被岩壁上的凸起所擦伤，他只能努力保护好头部，并抱紧了来复枪。下落过程看似无限漫长，可实际上约摸不到一分钟，他就看到下方出现了一丝亮光，紧接着他就滑进了一个大土室里。落地的冲击震得他头晕目眩，直喘粗气。

　　“没事吧，长官？”卡维兹伸手拉他。雷诺过了一分钟才回过神来接受这好意。不过年轻人看上去也没受到打击。毕竟他是第一个跳进洞的，现在已经恢复好了。雷诺只能尽力控制住自己仍在颤抖的双腿——总不能让手下看到他像一介女流那样瘫倒在地上爬不起来。

　　“没事，谢谢，”他僵硬地回答，同时站起身来背靠墙壁，等待视野的恢复。然后他听到了又一个重物坠地的声音以及伴随而来的痛苦的呻吟。那只可能是跟着他下来的曼妮丝，埃尔斯走过去帮她起身，并把她拉开了下落通道。这时候雷诺才发觉，自己并不需要害怕暴露出虚弱的一面。每个人都需要一段时间来恢复。这地方的着地条件过于恶劣了。

　　他环顾四周，发现一边地面上放着两根荧光棒，正是他刚才在下落时看到的光源。看来是先下来的几个人为了观察处境而点的。相当明智的举动，可他猜不出这四人中是谁先想到这点的。

　　荧光棒所提供的光线并不充足，但他的双眼已经适应起了黑暗，基本可以辨认出他们所处空间的大致状况。他们位于一个比较宽广的通道里，天花板距他头顶约有四英尺，宽度可供四人并排前进。其实他宁可更狭窄些，可以利用地利免受Zerg的包围，不过希望只是希望，改变不了事实。这条崎岖的通道同时向两个相反方向延伸，目力所及范围内看不到岔道。同时他还看到了他们滑下来的那条斜道。

　　“哪边走，长官？”曼妮丝的声音有些畏缩，此刻她正努力活动脖子和安上脱臼的肩膀。说话间又有四个人到了，不过他们小组还有四分之一成员和其他小组一起留在上面。

　　“现在还无法确定，”他承认。他离开墙边，思忖着沿通道向前走了两步。如果Zerg就在这个通道里，眼下应该还没注意到他们（或是和他们距离过远，所以还注意不到）。据他的推断，它们的聚居地并不在这附近——他们下来的那个斜道虽然很长，却也没长到能直抵Zerg聚居层的程度。他知道它们喜欢呆在更深的地方，不过此处有岩浆喷发的痕迹，也就意味着肯定有路会通往下面，而他要做的只是把它找出来。

　　“很好，凯瑞甘，”他默念道，“我都已经来了。可你究竟在哪儿？”

　　他一闭上眼睛，猛然又回到了有关这星球的噩梦之中。这一次，没有出现逃跑的场景——那些巨型Zerg已经重重包围了他。他将自己的手臂挡在眼前，却发现手上的皮肤变得灰暗嶙峋，他的皮肉上满是囊肿，带着一种病态的惨绿色。然而与此同时，他却发觉自己的躯体变得强大、有力。难以置信的浑厚力量充斥着他的身体，令他的长发在空中激荡漂浮——

　　雷诺奋力睁开了双眼，及时切断了这可怕梦境。它们一直潜伏在他眼帘之后，一等他陷入黑暗就席卷而来。他如今已几乎不敢眨眼，因为那会让他再次回到那个地方，越来越难以脱身。而这一次他又赌了一把，所幸成功了。梦境的引力比呆在行星表面时强烈多了，这证明他确实在接近凯瑞甘。

　　他的手下一个个都不明所以，但是他暂时无视了这一现状，转身穿过人群，向着反方向的通道走了十来步，然后再次闭上眼睛。

　　现在，其中一只Zerg开始触摸他，它镰刀般的前肢刺进了他斑驳的皮肤里。但这并非攻击性的动作，因为它并不带力度，更确切地说，不带敌意——这只是一种交流方法。从那个前肢里传来了一个声音，它低沉而又阴冷，直接在他骨腔中回响，冷彻骨髓。即便如此，这声音却显出一种陌生而又奇怪的亲切感。

　　“欢迎，”它对他说，“虫群祝福着你的降临。”

　　强烈的震撼让他的双眼再度睁开。雷诺站在原地，花了一段时间调整好呼吸，然后转过身去面对他的战友们。“这条路，”他命令道，几乎无法正确地发音和吐词。部分原因是出于焦虑，他知道，某种凯瑞甘正拼命躲避的事物正不可逆转地迫近。也有一部分原因是出于变得越来越可怕的梦境本身，梦中的那些故事暗示着一个恐怖的结局，而他只是拼命地不愿去承认那一点。而另一部分原因，则是出于越来越强烈的感应。他知道自己绝没有弄错，沿着这条路前进，他感觉凯瑞甘已越来越近。他正将他的战友们带向正确的方向。

　　这通道没走出百步就到头了，不过在那之前，卡维兹发现了一条狭小的岔路，从其洞壁的倾角和通路的不规则性来看，这是一道天然形成的岩缝。岩壁由黑灰色的板岩构成，另一头一片漆黑，也没法推测那边是否有被火山岩堵着，可眼下他们没有更好的选择，于是便硬着头皮成一字列队前进，埃尔斯打头，彼得紧随其后。

　　“这应该也是通道的一部分，”埃尔斯向后面的人喊，接着他喘了口气作了个深呼吸，好像准备开始详细阐述这一点。正在这时，彼得的来复枪响了起来，在这狭小的空间中产生了共鸣，震耳欲聋。雷诺在他背后四个人的距离，听到这响动不由得咒骂一声。肯定是Zerg！但他们现在卡在了这里，无法后退，也无法构成队形，将像剥豌豆一样挨个暴露在敌人面前。等待着他们的，将是一场屠杀。

　　他必须立刻做些什么来逆转局势，于是他做了。他从腰带上扯下一圆球，拔下保险拴，抡圆了臂膀扔了出去。这手雷依次从曼妮丝、卡维兹和斯奎尔头上飞过，消失在了彼得和埃尔斯所遭遇的那片黑暗之中。

　　“手雷！”雷诺高声警示，同时伏身隐蔽。身后的米歇尔和身前的曼妮丝同样照做。他希望彼得也听到了。

　　然后爆炸来了，强烈的冲击波传遍了整个通道，无数的岩块从震颤的墙壁上剥落，切割着皮肤、帆布和皮革，在装甲上弹射。但洞顶总算没塌下来，地板也没突然下陷去，瞬间过后就听得彼得喊道：“威胁清除！”

　　于是众人也顾不得隐秘行动什么的了，纷纷急不可耐地冲进了那片烟尘之中。一分钟以后，雷诺已经走出那道狭小的岩缝，进到了一个宽敞得多的洞穴里，他背靠墙壁，来复枪警惕地握在手里。彼得手臂上有一道很惨的割伤，像是刚被帮醉鬼群殴过一般，不过他依然还是坚持站着，紧拽着自己的来复枪。埃尔斯就没那么幸运。这老兵躺在刚才那岩缝出口的不远处，鲜血正不断从他胸前的大口子和曾是他两条手臂的地方喷出来。那刺蛇为了阻止他开枪把他两只胳膊全削了下来，再顺便挖出了他的内脏。那时候后面的人都还没来得及反应过来。幸亏这怪物没料到会有手雷扔来。由尸体的状态判断，它的头部和胸部被冲击波完全吃中，然后像蟑螂一样被压扁吹飞到了房间对面的墙壁上。雷诺希望这家伙死的时候很痛苦，但也知道它多半没那种感觉。

　　“很好，这下他们该知道我们在这里了。”雷诺说着摇摇头，“无所谓，反正。至少我们也不用再偷偷摸摸的了。”他将来复枪扳到了全自动位，同时也听到了周围队员如法炮制的声音。“召集上面的其余人员，”他告诉曼妮丝，“如果你在这个位置无法向他们发信可以回头走一段。把所有人都弄下来。我们需要他们。”曼妮丝点点头，叫过了米歇尔，两人一同估测起其余分队的大致坐标，然后将处理器定位过去。雷诺知道她肯定能做好这件事情，于是干脆坐观其成。没多久，全部的人员都赶了下来，向他们集合靠拢。总共加起来约有三百人。他希望这人数足够了。

　　他又发了几分钟呆，直等到剩下两个分队都穿过了岩缝。斯奎尔和卡维兹将埃尔斯的尸体搬到了一边。米歇尔分队里的一名女队员金娜·艾兰尼还帮彼得包扎好了臂上的伤口。所有人员就绪。然后，由于接下去的通道分成了两条路，后面还隐约能看到更多支路，于是雷诺再一次使出了他的绝招，磨了磨牙然后闭上了眼睛。

　　现在更多的巨型Zerg正在碰触着他，它们的利爪和骨刺小心地在他身上划擦，却不至刺破皮肤，而原来的那些声音依然存在，只是被更为放大，在他双眼和双耳之间的腔室中不断回荡。而那些声音，说的仍是同一句话。

　　“欢迎，虫群祝福着你的降临。”

　　战栗的雷诺硬是睁开了眼睛，不断地告诫自己这一切仅是梦境。然后他走到了另一边路口，再度接受梦境的引导。这次，他拼上了全部的意志力才得以从中挣脱，从那阴冷的、潮湿的、令人窒息的召唤声中逃离。但他已经得到了想要的答案。他伸手指向了那个方向。

　　“这边，”他告诉部下们。

　　当他带领着众人沿着这座天然石窟前行的时候，他的内心却更为忐忑。他盼望着凯瑞甘真的值得他们冒这个险。也希望他梦中的场景只是她内心恐惧的产物，而非那即将深入她头脑之中的真实。因为如果这确实是真的，他们此刻就正走向毁灭。而雷诺也将知道这一切都会是他的罪业，是他带领他们来到了这里，来到了这个世界，走进了这个洞穴，走进了这场浩劫。

　　通道依然在继续延伸，雷诺靠着他的梦境能力穿越一个接一个的岔口，选择感应最为强烈的那一方。而他每一次都得强迫自己回归现实，回归他自己我身体，从黑暗窒息的召唤声中强夺回自己的意识。他努力压制着那浮现在他心底里的声音，将来复枪握得越来越紧，直到他惊讶地注意到枪管和枪把的硬化塑料上竟没留下超人式的手印。

　　其间他们又遇到了几波Zerg，每一次都是小分队式的袭击，雷诺的部队很快就搞定了他们。只是这并非没有代价。在第一次袭击中幸存了下来，一只手受了伤的彼得，在第二次袭击中毫发无伤，可是在第三次袭击中被一条从洞顶钻出的迅猛犬咬掉了脸。金娜·艾兰尼，早先帮彼得包扎的那名娇小的女兵，则被一只刺蛇切作了两段。当时她正搭手帮另一名倒地的队友站起来。而那名队友也被同一只刺蛇开了膛，米歇尔在那怪兽背上泻了一整匣子弹也没能来得及救他。在其他牺牲的人里面，有很多雷诺不甚了解，甚至无法将其和名单上的名字对应起来的士兵。他在心里暗暗发誓，如果能活着走出这里，他会亲自了解和过问剩下的每一名战士。这实在是他们应得的待遇。

　　Zerg袭击分队规模可能是受制于狭窄蜿蜒的通道，他们一路走来确实有经过一两个像一开始滑下来那里的大土室，不过宽度都没能持续。这些洞穴都是天然生成的，没有被Zerg或是其他什么东西改造过的迹象。他们走走停停上上下下七歪八拐，在刀锋般锐利的拐角迂回，呈带状消失在视线尽头。地形变幻莫测，从马路般宽到楼道般窄不过是转瞬间事。地板上的裂缝和天花板上的洞则将他们带入一个又一个的其它“楼层”，然而这些缝隙中也存在着不少陷阱。没有人知道每一条通道后面潜伏着什么。一名队员失足落入了一道地缝下的岩浆池里，瞬间被烧成了飞灰。另一名队员在一段两英尺高的通道里经过时，把脑袋探进头顶上的一个洞里结果头骨碎裂，要是接下去他滚倒在地的时候没有弄折了脖子，没准还能活下来的。

　　雷诺的梦境——现在更像是白日的幻影，一直在威胁着他，试图替代现实，将他的自我意识吞没——却是他们在此行动的唯一指引。他听到背后有几个队员在窃窃私语，怀疑他如何知晓这迷宫的走法，不过曼妮丝和其他军士长很快喝止了他们。毕竟，没人真的希望他不知道路。那只会令事情变得更糟。

　　最终，雷诺将他们带到了一段较短的直道上，这里非常宽阔，顶部有两个他叠起来的高度，站在路中间展开双臂也够不到两侧。通道尽头是一道巨大的拱门。它后方的地表是石质的，却覆盖着一层灰黑色物质，好似有生命的脉动着，说是菌丛却更像暴露的脑浆。这是Zerg的菌胶，雷诺在不少星球上看到过这种东西，它们在地表蔓延，对应着Zerg在地下的扩张。看到这些，就意味着雷诺和他的队友终于在查尔行星上找到了一处Zerg的老巢。

　　“长官！”卡维兹指向前方，雷诺顺着他的手势望去，看到的那一幕几乎让他窒息。一个球形的东西挂在拱门的中央。那是一颗眼珠，人类的眼珠，至少，假如有人真能长到二十英尺高，那他可能会有这样巨大的一颗眼珠。它的后面拖着一束卷须状物，末端分成数个岔梢，交错绞缠在拱门的门边，像是张粘稠的巨网。那眼珠就悬挂在这网的中心，像是只诡异的蜘蛛，因为看到他们这帮送上门来的猎物，而兴奋地在蛛网上不住扭动。

　　“来个人把这怪胎弄瞎掉！”雷诺喊道，女兵斯奎尔依言瞄准开火。一枚钉刺狠狠地扎进了那个眼球，深入它巨大的瞳孔正中。那眼珠随着一声刺耳的吼叫声爆裂了，恶心的粘性胶质淋了他们一身。那束卷须还仍旧依附在网上，兀自在轻微地痉挛。

　　“估计这对它们的预警能力没什么打击，”雷诺轻轻地对身边的曼妮丝说，她报以一丝苦笑。那眼珠明显是起着监视摄像头的作用，而它已经把他们靠近的整个过程看了个一清二楚。虫群已经知道他们过来了。

　　“准备！”雷诺转过头去喊道，“我们有客人要招待了！”虽然这样喊无法让所有士兵都听见，但他知道曼妮丝会帮他把话传下去的。

　　他的话就像是句信号，透过拱门，可以看到远处涌现了无数的Zerg。杂乱又有序的身形在巨网上投下攒动的阴影。这股黑色的潮水开始向着他们喷涌而来。

　　刚才在石缝里钻来钻去的时候雷诺还希望路能宽点，可现在他却死命地希望周围能变窄些。他们所处的这整条通道宽到足够三人并行。这意味着Zerg有足够的空间进行集体冲锋，它们可以自如地涌出拱门，单靠数量就淹没他的军队。如果通道能狭窄点，它们就只能一个个地上，抵抗起来也容易得多。然而，他的目的并非是玩生存游戏，而是要越过它们。雷诺都不需要闭眼就能确定：凯瑞甘肯定就在拱门后边。

　　如何冲过拱门却是个大问题。他用右手的来复枪把一只刺蛇爆了头，又用左手摸出的手枪打死另一只要从背后偷袭曼妮丝的。他冷静地把双枪运用地上下翻飞，将面前的Zerg一枪一个地轰杀。可是对手是在太多了，通道里很快布满了迅猛犬，纷纷扑击着队员的们的脑袋，噬咬着他们的手臂，用巨颚夹住他们的脚踝或是扰乱他们的动作让他们破绽大露。刺蛇和飞螳就跟在它们后面，用它们的飞刃和骨刺切开人类的防线。雷诺目睹了斯奎尔的死，两只刺蛇同时把骨刃插进了她的胸口，她的长枪被震落，在脚底下走了火，撞到地面时爆起了一片碎石。米歇尔被一群迅猛犬扑倒在地，毫不夸张地被撕成了碎片——曼妮丝也看到了这幕惨剧，在他表现出痛苦来前，仁慈地给了这年轻人脑袋上一发子。雷诺的战士们无疑都是精英，装备良好、训练完善、意志坚定，可惜双方的兵力着实太过悬殊。而这个小过道——宽到能让他们正好被包围却不够宽到让他们后撤——也对他们极其不利。所有的Zerg拥有着共同意识，可以同时和其余所有人进行心灵交流，这使它们行动如同一人。雷诺的人就没这条件。他们不但沟通起来麻烦，还时常挡住其他人的射击路线，甚至有时候还会互相误伤。他们可说是占尽了劣势。

　　“我们得进去！”他向曼妮丝喊道。两人现在正背对背地开火，射击一切靠近的目标——他不得不一次次偏转枪口以免打了自己人。“没时间对付这些！”

　　“我们上！”她向后方喊道，“全体人员向我靠拢！提供掩护！”在一片混乱中，并非所有人都听到了她的喊话，不过已经够了，二十多个男女兵靠了过来，在他们身边围成了一圈，集体背朝圈内。他们开始作为一个整体移动，统一步伐避免磕绊，同时向着四面八方开火。每次一有人射空了弹夹就退回圈内，由两边人补上空隙进行掩护，直到他们上完子弹挤回来。这样，Zerg完全无法靠近他们，无法撕裂那道钢铁和塑料组成的火线。他们吃力地推进到了拱门下方，然后进入了门后的房间。其余的队员还都呆在通道里，他们等雷诺和曼妮丝进去以后，开始向前方倾泻密集的弹雨。虫群被迫将它们的注意力转向这一更大的威胁，继续涌入通道，这给了雷诺和他周围的那圈人一点喘息的时间以观察周围形势。

　　“这究竟是什么地方？”边上一名叫菲德斯的年轻队员低声问道。他的身体明显在发抖，雷诺没法责备他。他们刚才的遭遇，以及现在所看到的一切，没法不让任何人胆寒。

　　这房间远比刚才那通道宽大得多，大到足够塞进一整架穿梭机。墙上爬满了菌胶，散发出脉动的微光投射在他们身上，让雷诺止不住作呕。无数的Zerg在房间里来回移动。外表如巨型蛆虫一般的Zerg幼体在起伏的菌胶上翻腾蠕动，而刺蛇和其他怪物则在一边看护。

　　“这是孵化间，”雷诺想起了迈克和凯瑞甘跟他说起过的安提加主星的遭遇，“这个星球上的Zerg诞生的地方。”房间的正中心聚集着一大圈Zerg，数量至少是他们的四十倍，其中包括刺蛇和雷兽，甚至包括在上空警戒着的飞螳。在这帮怪物边上的不远处，他看到了两只巨大的、鼻涕虫一般的软体动物。它们匍匐在菌胶上，身体周围垂下数条类似的有机物质，体内似乎有什么东西在发光——雷诺记得它们叫脑体，是Zerg实际的指挥者。在菌胶堆上他看到了好几个虫卵，脉动着红色和绿色的光芒。但中央那群Zerg拱卫着的那颗却远比它们要大得多，里面隐约可见的东西正散发着电光，不断向外界辐射着光和热。他立刻明白了，那正是他的目标。

　　“所有人向我靠拢！”他喊道，同时举起来复枪上了一副新的弹夹，“我们要打碎那东西！”

　　不知是听到了他的声音，感到了他的存在，又或是遇到袭击时的条件反射使然，Zerg们开动了起来。“脑体！”一只脑体高喊道，它的声音古怪刺耳，带给人一种异样的烦躁感，震得雷诺太阳穴发胀，“蛹正即将孵化！不能让任何人接近它！”

　　另一只脑体向拱门方向仰起了前端，原先拱卫着巨茧的Zerg们立刻响应它的意识命令，向着Terran部队冲过来。前一只脑体则更加挨近了那个脉动着的椭球，像是个呵护备至的母亲在小心地照料自己宝贵的孩子。

　　雷诺和他的队员乘着这当口给自己鼓了鼓气。眼看Zerg冲近，曼妮丝从背心里扔出一枚手雷，正好落在一只刺蛇脚边，把周围的几只Zerg炸了个稀巴烂。冲击波连带震退了十来只虫子。雷诺立刻对着这群昏迷的家伙一通扫射，在它们缓神过来以前做掉了它们。此时其余的虫子已到了他们面前，他退后几步，一手手枪一手来复枪左右开弓，用火力掩护着前方。

　　“去吧，长官！”曼妮丝对他喊道，用下巴朝巨茧的方向示意了一下，“干掉那个东西，这边由我们解决！”

　　雷诺只犹豫了一秒，马上点点头。“坚持住！”他喊着，同时将两把枪都开到了全自动档，向自己前方半圆区域扫射。被击中的Zerg全被轰成了碎渣，在更多的虫子扑过来补充空档前，他抓住机会冲过了它们的防线。身后又传来一枚炸弹的爆炸声，枪响也更加激烈了，那是曼妮丝他们在掩护他冲锋。他知道，基本上，一旦这样做那些人是死定了，他们自己也很清楚这点。但这是他们的职责，是他们来到这个星球的理由。

　　脚底下碍事的菌胶裹住了他的靴子，让雷诺的直冲变成了一段跌跌撞撞的旅程。但他一直用火力保持着自己到巨茧之间道路的畅通，也没让其他的Zerg追上来。最后几步他放慢速度，以免一头撞上目标，同时乘机换了弹夹，然后瞄准了向他逼来的脑体。但对方突然停了下来，转过身去，一点一点地退了回去，最后竟然隐入了远处菌胶构成网状组织里。现在，只剩下雷诺和那个茧了。

　　等靠近了他才注意到，那东西远比两个他还大。表面上布满了突起和凹痕，像是浑浊的麦粥表面。他看到那东西颤动了一下。这东西，这个壳本身，竟然也是活的！现在它依旧在散发着电光。电能激得他毛发倒竖，但雷诺没有后退。

　　“凯瑞甘？”他伸出一只手摸向那个茧，透过手套，他还能感觉到指尖传来的猛烈电流。他只能隐约辨出的东西，正在扭曲着，用肢体刮擦着厚实的茧壳。那不可能是凯瑞甘——虽然他只能看出个大概形状，但里面的那个生物拥有的肢体太多了。

　　接下来发生的事或许是这一触摸的结果，也可能是出于对他的亲近感。又或许仅仅是时间正好。无论如何，就在他的眼前，雷诺看到其中一根肢体伸了出来，接着是又一根，顶住了茧的顶缘——然后穿壳而出。一根可怕的尖刺钻了出来。其他的尖刺也试图从壳下穿出，把整个茧顶得拉长到了极限。在第二波强力的凿击下，又一根尖刺钻出了表面。茧的上部变形更加严重了——最终像个烂瓜一样爆开，碎片飞溅。失去了顶部的张力，茧的其余部分软了下来，裂成数瓣瘫到了地面上。壳内浓重的气息散出，逼得雷诺退后几步以免窒息。里面粘滞的液体也一起崩洒开来，让他的鞋子遭受了一次洗礼，流溢到地板上，随即被那堆菌胶所吸收。吸收了这些营养液后，地表的菌胶色泽变得更深了，脉动也显得更强烈了点。不过雷诺没功夫去关心这个，他的眼神没有一刻离开过那个茧——或是Zerg口中所谓的“蛹”——中孵化出来的东西。

　　凯瑞甘是个身材修长、健美丰满的姑娘，还有一双摄人心魄的双眼。是个美到让他在第一次见到对方时，会生出那种（活该被对方骂成猪的）念头的美人。她原有一身洁白的皮肤，但后因为多方历练劳顿而被晒有些茶色。性感的双唇在她那张心型的脸蛋上显得有些宽大。她在工作的时候，喜欢把自己那头火红亮丽的长发扎到背后。这一切的一切，再加上她的智慧、她的战技、还有她的超能力，让她成了一个优雅、迷人、致命的女孩。她是雷诺这辈子见过的最容易令他思维混乱的女人。

　　而眼前这个绝不是凯瑞甘，它是从他噩梦中生出的最可怕的恶魔，它一点也不像他爱的那个人。

　　更确切地说，它是，但它又不是。雷诺呆在那里，忘了他手上的武器，忘了他身后的战斗。什么都不重要了，面前的这个女人——这个生物——占据了他的整个脑海。她有着凯瑞甘的形体，她的身材，乃至她的面容。然而肤色却不对，是一种让他头皮发麻的，斑驳的惨绿色，就像是海豚或是海豹的皮肤，很多地方硬化了，还带上了一种平滑的光泽，更适合被称作一层保护性的外壳。不过这层外壳的设计似乎全无章法，她的一边肩上延伸出了刺状结构，两只前肘上也有，沿着手背排成了一列，双腿也有类似的现象。眼睛还是原来的形状，不过颜色由绿色变成了黄色，眼珠也带上了古怪诡异的亮黄色。而头发，那束火红亮丽的头发，现在变成了一根根刺须，某种介于触须和骨刺之间的东西，细长条状，末端是尖刺，披散在他的头上，还像昆虫腿（或是人骨）一样分节。而最让他不知所措的，最让他觉得那不可能是凯瑞甘的，还是刚才他所看到的，在茧壁下扰动敲击，最终捅穿蛹壳的那双——

　　翅膀。

　　眼前这生物有一对翅膀，一对庞大而诡异的翅膀，一对猛禽和蝙蝠式的翅膀——但它们却没有盖有一丝的羽毛或表皮，因为这双翅膀纯粹是一对分节的骨架，尖端延伸成刺，像是从它背后伸出来的两只巨爪，长度垂至膝盖。就在他眼前，这对骨架缩了起来，脓液顺势从尖端滴下，如同分泌着毒液的蛛牙，他直觉到它们正在寻找猎物。

　　这生物绝非人类。然而它的面孔，它的五官——毫无疑问的是凯瑞甘。或者说，它们至少还残留着这女人曾经的样子。如果这是凯瑞甘，她定是被扭曲了，被重塑为她原身的拙劣仿品。

　　凯瑞甘，变成了，Zerg.

　　那些恐怖的梦境如今都说得通了。它们都是真的，不只是单纯的哭喊，而是一种警告，一种信息。她向他展示了在她身上发生的一切，包括所有的细节。他再次回忆起了那个迎接他的声音，还有随之而来的那种抗拒和接受兼有的古怪感觉。那一切果然都来自她的经历。

　　似乎是为了印证他的理解，他又一次听到了那个声音，这一次那声音同时出现在他的耳边和意识里。它是那么的低沉，在他脑海和双耳边间回响，又是那么的冰冷，令他牙齿发颤。他已经听这声音说过两次话。一次是在他的脑海中迎接他，另一次则是它说出“蛹中那尚未出生的力量！”的时候。现在那声音第三次说话了，每一个字都似乎在他髓腔里颤动。

　　“起来吧，我的女儿，”它喊道，语调中分明带着狂喜和自得。“起来吧……凯瑞甘，”它欢呼时，所有的Zerg都低下了它们的头颅。所有的，只除了一个。

　　“遵从你的意志，天父，”蛹中的生物高昂起头，自豪地说。她的声音更为低沉，在他的耳边和头脑中激起了更为强烈的共鸣和回响，每一个单词似乎都蕴含着多种层面的含义和感情，复杂得令他一时无法接受。那些单词环绕贯穿着他，身后不时地传来阵阵寒意。“我生来就是为了服务你。”她迈开脚步，优雅地走了出来，在房间中站直了身子。凯瑞甘是个身材高佻的女子，个子能到雷诺的肩膀处。而面前这个新生物甚至能与他平视——假如她打算看他的话，但她根本没有注意他，而他也不确定自己是该庆幸还是该为此受打击。虽然她身上发生了剧烈的变化，但他还是能感受到她的力量，以及那份曾令他为之着迷的活力和决心。从某种方面讲，他甚至更迷她了，被她全新的形体和（他所感受到的）她体内那股全新力量所诱惑。他知道自己该厌恶、该作呕，但却无法抗拒地着迷了。他甚至有想到这种感觉会否也是来自于她的意识，这种无可抵挡的吸引力会否只是精神攻击或某种生化武器所造成的反应，但他不愿这样相信，尤其是她甚至还没看过他一眼。

　　她所看到的，只有在拱门处战斗着的那些人。仍有几名队员还活着，其中包括曼妮丝在内，他们还在继续和Zerg搏斗着。雷诺看到她的眉头皱了起来，双眼中燃烧起愤怒的眩光。

　　“让这些反抗圣灵的人都尝尝虫群的愤怒，”她宣告，身后的双翼猛地张了开来。在她的命令下，Zerg纷纷狂暴化了，它们加强了进攻，用与之前判若两人的惊人速度进行着挥砍和撕咬。曼妮丝倒在一只刺蛇罪恶的镰刀下，她的头飞出身躯数米之远，这一击还同时连带切下了另几名士兵的胳膊。在她之后，其他队员也纷纷倒下，片刻之间，雷诺就成了唯一一个活人。

　　虽然Zerg也并非毫发无伤，但它们似乎完全不在意己方的损失，重新集结，向着中央转过身来，之前那个脑体依然在房间一角操纵它们。

　　“做得好，脑体！”那个诡异而冰冷的声音再一次响起，“我今日的造物已注定了我敌人的灭亡！”言毕，所有的Zerg都将目标对准了雷诺，它们眼神中的仇恨瞬间贯穿了他的躯体。“不留活口……”那声音发出了命令。

　　尽管已无可为，但雷诺却不打算毫无抵抗地死去。他试图举起手中的来复枪，但枪身纹丝不动。低头看去，才惊觉枪管已被一只手爪给牢牢按住。雷诺猛一回头，发现自己的双眼正对上了那蛹中生物的视线。那是一股冰冷的视线，双眼发散着眩光却毫无感情，眼珠兀自在转动着，留下一串灿烂的光迹。这分明是一张异形的脸，再没留下他的爱人的一丝痕迹。

　　“圣母在上，”雷诺忍不住大口喘起了粗气，“凯瑞甘，它们到底把你怎么了？”

第五章

　　其他的Zerg慢了下来，然后停在了原地，一动不动。有几只甚至只离雷诺几臂的距离。而雷诺木然地聆听着它们之间的交流，已全然不顾自己正命悬于此。

　　“消灭那个人类，”那只无名的脑体催促道，“这是圣灵的命令。”

　　“这个人属于我，”前凯瑞甘开口了，她的语调不容任何争论余地，“我要按自己的意思来处置他。现在，离我们远点。”周围的Zerg不知如何执行这两条互相矛盾的命令，呆在原地进退不得。见状，凯瑞甘毫不夸张地怒发冲冠了，曾是头发的那盘骨刺在她头上倒竖了起来，随着她的怒火而颤动，“我说了滚！”她喊道。其余的Zerg纷纷慌忙低头鞠躬。

　　“如你所愿，女王殿，”脑体屈服了。它自己虽没移动，可身上的光辉却不知如何暗淡了下来，身体的脉动也有所缓减，雷诺认为这是它已将注意力放在其余什么地方的表现。而其下的Zerg则纷纷涌出了拱门，消失在了视野中。雷诺环视了一下周围，发现就连地上的那些巨型蛆虫也都不见了。整个房间完全空了，除了他们二人和那只不再活动的脑体--当然还有他的士兵的遗体，以及他们所杀死的Zerg。

　　虫群既已不见，雷诺也不再费力去举他的长枪了。而她也放松了她的钳制，任由这武器落在了他的脚边。他后退几步，好更轻松地盯着她。她的目光安静了下来，正对上他的眼睛。原本竖直的头发也落了回来，只是尖端现在扭向了他，像是某种有生命的武器一样，让雷诺怎么也舒服不起来。她的翅膀也垂到了她肩膀两侧，却兀自在沙沙微响，让雷诺有种更不舒服的错觉：似乎若非凯瑞甘有意压制，它们随时都可能向他发动攻击。

　　“莎拉，”他终于问道，同时举起一只手伸向她的脸颊，在接触到她之前停了下来，对她的全新外表既着迷又憎恶，“那真的是你？”

　　“是更完美的我，”她回应道，方才那种命令的口吻消失了，现在的她，听来更像是他所记得的那个女孩。她低头看着自己的双手，翻来覆去地看，伸展起长长的手指，活动起可怖的爪子。这些动作也带动了她翅膀的尖端，“我已远甚于曾经的我，吉姆。”听到自己的名字他略微一惊。而她的视线也回到了他身上，将双手紧握成拳。“你不该来这里，”她警告他。在她的语气里，他觉得自己听到了某种哀伤，甚至是怜悯。这令他大为震惊，因为她一直是那样的哀伤，可凯瑞甘从不是个会怜悯的人。

　　她话中含义同样令他困惑。他不该来这里？“但那些梦，”他争辩道，“我梦见你还活着……而且还……你还召唤着我。”难道他一开始就错了吗？难道这一切都是个错误？只是他头脑中的臆想？但他又如何会知道她身上所发生的一切？而如果不是因为她，他又如何会听到那个在他头脑中的声音？毫无疑问，那些梦必定是来自她的。

　　“我确实曾那么做，”她承认，语气似乎稍有失落。她皮肤上的斑点淡了下去，双翅缩拢了起来，头发也不再僵直，变得更为柔顺，跟曾经的凯瑞甘又多了几分相似之处。她转身背对雷诺，但他仍能从她话语里的痛楚想象出此刻她脸上表情。那必然是跟那时一样的表情，在当初的塔松尼斯星上，她绝望地向他求救时的表情。“当我还在蛹中时，”她解释道，“我本能地用我的精神力联络了你和阿克图拉斯。显然，阿克图拉斯派了杜克来这里回收我……”雷诺能听出她说杜克这个词时背后的那种痛恨感，以及随之而来的冷笑。

　　“没错，他最近有那么点小忙，要建设他的帝国，”他说道，“所以就只派了他的哈巴狗来参加了。”他笑道：“你应该能从我的脑袋里看到他那张臭脸。”

　　她笑了，这个悲哀的微笑，却让雷诺十分怀念：“我想也知道是这样。”

　　“可是，我来了，”雷诺道，“而你也在。我们能把你弄出去，凯瑞甘，能把你带到安全的地方。”我们还能消除他们对你身体的改变，他还想加上这句，但他说不出来。他也不需要说--以前的凯瑞甘就有能力读取他的思维，而现在的她看来已经更为强大了。她开始摇头，身上的斑点又浮现了出来，反映着她的烦乱。

　　“但那都过去了，吉姆，”她再度转过头来，“现在我是Zerg的一份子，而我也喜欢我现在的样子。”她高举起手臂，身上甲壳似的突起像波浪一样滑过她的四肢和躯体，头发重新竖了起来，直指屋顶，背后的翅膀也完全伸展了开来。即便是在昏暗的光线下，他也能看到她的双眼闪耀着喜悦。“你没法想象这种感觉……”最后，她放下了手臂说道。她的翅膀仍旧张开着，似乎在提醒他她身上的巨大改变。他知道她所指的改变并非仅是物理上的。

　　“现在我是Zerg的一份子，”她微笑道，“这相当美妙，吉米。它令我充实、完整。我再也不会变回那个孤独的我了。”

　　“他们叫你女王，”雷诺想起了那脑体离开前所用的称呼。她的笑容更明显了。

　　“是的，我是，刀锋女王。”说着，她举起她的右手，露出指尖的利刃来印证这个称呼。她头部、背后以及翅膀上的尖刺也一并直立了起来。

　　“看来，无论何时，你都从不肯放弃自己的忠诚。”他摇了摇头。而她根本不必费心去回答这话，他已从她的笑容中看到了答案。

　　“那么然后呢？”雷诺边问边退后了一步，俯身抓住地上的枪，随时准备举起，“你现在打算杀了我吗，亲爱的？”

　　“要杀你只是举手之劳，”凯瑞甘道，雷诺清楚她所言非虚。在“变形”之前，她就已是他见过的最致命的杀手。那时的她枪法如神，但使用匕首的技术也毫不逊色。据迈克所言，她曾一人在几分钟内消灭了一屋子的士兵，整个过程中甚至没被敌人到过一根毫毛。眼下虽然她赤手空拳，但雷诺估计她仍能用身体上的刀刃部分做到同样的事，何况她的体能和速度也无疑有了更大的提升。如今的她恐怕完全能亲自料理刚才门口的那批人类。雷诺心中十分矛盾，一方面想看到凯瑞甘动手，好惊叹一下她的新能力，另一方面，他像一个正常人一样，想尖叫着夺路而逃。但他并没有付诸行动，而是静静地站在那里，等待着凯瑞甘的抉择。选择权无疑在她那边。

　　凯瑞甘又一次舒展了下指关节，随后突然将十指插向雷诺。那一瞬间，雷诺以为自己已经死了。可凯瑞甘只是在吓唬他。她脸上的笑容还是如从前一样哀伤：“但你根本构不成威胁，吉姆，”她说着退后几步，拉开了两人的距离，却没有放下双手，“放聪明点，”她警告道，声音中重新带上了之前那种骇人的回响，“离开这里，永远别再试图跟Zerg作对。”最后那句话像是道命令，雷诺感到这话语中力量和凯瑞甘自身的魄力一道向他侵袭了过来，这种威压感迫使他屈服。

　　“看来我也没什么选择余地，”他低声说，希望这足够安抚得了她。接下去一段时间里，两人静止在那里一动不动，剑拔弩张却无人出手，气氛紧张像要冒出火花来。最后，凯瑞甘突然转过身去，完全地忽视了他的存在。

　　有那么一瞬间，雷诺考虑着自己是否要举起枪来，从背后向她射击。在这个距离下他绝无射偏的可能，就算她有着超人的力量、活化的铠甲、斑驳的皮肤和可怖的头发。一梭钉刺弹照样可以要了她的命。这点他十分确信。好吧，几乎十分确信。

　　但他没有机会验证这个理论了。在凯瑞甘转身时，她的皮肤变成了苍白色，然后是透明，她的身体由边缘部分开始淡出，眨眼间整个人完全消失了。房间里就剩下了雷诺一人。

　　他知道，凯瑞甘其实还在附近。她只是隐形了，正如她做幽灵特工时那样。他此前以为这种能力需要战斗服的辅助，但现在看来他是错了。又或者，至少刀锋女王已不需要那种辅助了。

　　刀锋女王，这个名字总带给他无限的寒意。她接受了那个头衔。这意味着虫群对她的转化已经完全成功了。莎拉·凯瑞甘已死，活着的只有刀锋女王。而她再也不可能对他笑脸相迎了。

　　可她好歹还是留了他一命，这点上雷诺自然无从抱怨。

　　他把手枪插进了枪套里，却不敢放下步枪。他蹒跚着走向拱门处，强迫自己逐一检视了沿途中每具士兵的遗体。他们挣得了驻留他目光的权利。而若因为不舒服而扭过头将是对他们的侮辱。他逐一确认了每张脸，记住了每个名字，才又转身走出了拱门。远处有更多的士兵，大部分横躺在地上。仍有少部分还站着，斜靠在通道的墙壁上。看到了他的出现，这批人发出了一阵不甚整齐的欢呼。

　　“长官！”是卡维兹。虽然他绑着重重绷带、面容憔悴不堪却依然还活着。这位高个子青年跛着脚、小心地走过尸体堆迎向雷诺：“你还好吧？”

　　“还死不了。”雷诺回应道，他窘迫地发现自己仅仅是受了些皮肉伤。卡维兹的伤比他重得多，但却是这士兵在关心他的伤势而不是反过来。不过他也清楚卡维兹话中的含意其实不止是问他的伤势，还想知道另一点：雷诺是否已准备好再次担当指挥。

　　我根本不配当领袖，雷诺看着少得可怜的幸存者想道。是我的错，让你们如此受伤，是我的错让你们的朋友们丧身异乡，是我的错让你们来到了这里。是我硬拉着你们穿越星系，牺牲了一百多号人却只为了寻找一个到头来根本不需要我的女人。从某种意义上说，这听来相当搞笑，他几乎无法克制住自己的笑意——他能感受到自己心底带着歇斯底里的笑意，但他知道这一笑起来，他将无法停止。他强迫自己集中精神，卡维兹受了伤，其他人也或多或少有伤，他需要带他们去进行医治。而这意味着得回地表。

　　“好的，”他喊道，“重新两两分组整队！”他示意卡维兹跟他一组，“我们尽量按原路折返，也许还有更快的路出去，因此沿途也要瞪大眼睛。出发！”

　　他们沿着通道往回行进，边走边留心着四周的Zerg行迹。但除了石头和尸体以外什么都没看到。刚才那场战斗中活下来的Zerg全部消失了。雷诺努力不去多想它们去了哪。

　　这帮伤兵花了好几个钟头才成功抵达地表。虽然沿路没遇上任何Zerg，但也有其他东西要应付——诸如畸形的通道，脆弱的岩壁，沸腾的岩浆等等。大部分幸存者带了伤，虽然还没重到走不了的地步，但也基本上在此前的战斗中耗尽了体力，因此即使在开阔的通道里也走得很慢。雷诺挑出两人，一人负责探路，另一人负责殿后。他要求两人在安全距离下远离大部队，在尽可能安静的前提下汇报一切异状。让他松了口气的是，一路下来都两人都没有发来任何告警。凯瑞甘——他还是无法让自己称呼她为“刀锋女王”，即便只是想想——看来是作为某个巨大阴谋的一部分而被唤醒的。这是他分析那个诡异声音的台词后得到的结论。而他们之前在这颗星球上所见的Zerg，现在可能也正在为这个计划忙碌，这肯定得花上它们不少时间，至少在他们活着回到星球表面前，是不会遇到什么阻碍了。外头才是人类该呆的地方，现在他得计划下出去以后的下一步行动。“假若人类生来就该住洞里，”他自言自语，“他们的皮肤必然会变得更厚，视力会更差，全身会覆盖着厚厚的毛皮，精神萎靡不振。所以我们才发明了电灯、激光和电梯。”

　　“您说什么，长官？”边上的一个士兵侧过头来，他的头上绑着几圈绷带。

　　“没事，孩子，”雷诺回答，“没什么。”

　　他们尽量按原路返回，不过在不少地方还是得偏离原路线——他们来时经过的一处地方发生了塌方，可能是由之前战斗的震动所引发的，窄道被碎石堵塞，空气中弥漫着厚重的尘土。另一处他们滑下来时用的通道显然也无法重复利用，因为它实在太陡了，通道内壁又像玻璃一般滑，而雷诺觉得他们这帮人没人能在目前的状态下玩什么死亡攀岩游戏，包括他自己在内。好在在这两个问题面前他们都找到了绕过的方法，尽管路程与来时有些不同，但他们起码一直在接近地表。而在雷诺看来，这才是最重要的事情；一直向上，向上，回到地表、回到天上、回到飞船里。偏离原路线一两英里算不得什么，只要他们最后还是能回家。永远呆在这鬼地方的念头实在过于消极，万不能予以认真考虑，因此每次这想法一闪而过，他就强迫自己摁下它。

　　最终，担任探路队长的卡维兹从一处走道奔了回来，他那满是鲜血和灰尘的脸上挂着抑制不住的笑容：“我看见阳光了，长官！”他兴奋地喊道，其余士兵愉快地欢呼起来。有几个人甚至喜极而泣，不过没人会因此取笑他们。

　　“干得好，伙计，”雷诺拼命地挤掉了眼泪说道，“带路。”然后紧跟着这位青年士兵。不多时，他就站在了一处宽阔斜道的底部，沐浴着头顶射下的阳光。这斜道不长，但也没短到能跳出去的地步。于是他们合力垫起了一位叫诺恩的壮实队员做先锋。他用后背靠住岩壁，伸出双脚抵住对面的墙，撑起身体，然后靠着双手保持平衡，慢慢地爬上去。整个过程总共花去有半个钟头，不过最后他还是成功把头探出了洞口。

　　“周围一切正常，长官，”他回头喊道，这让所有人都松了口气。有那么一瞬间，雷诺害怕埃尔斯的悲剧也会发生在诺恩头上，好在这次情况不同。

　　“爬出洞外，士兵，”他喊道，“没时间观赏了。”诺恩笑了笑，敬了个军礼，然后后背和双腿一齐用力，同时双手上伸，在后背脱离洞壁的瞬间，他的双手也抓了洞缘，支撑着他的身体爬上了地面。不一会儿，他的脸重新出现在洞口，垂下了一根绳子。雷诺将它递给了身形轻盈的卡维兹，后者迅速沿着绳子爬了上去，诺恩俯下身来帮他完成了最后一段路。随后，两人合力把其他人都拉出了通道。

　　最后终于轮到雷诺，他想尽量少添麻烦，于是试着像诺恩那样贴着洞壁爬上去，但他实在是筋疲力尽了，身体还有些不听使唤，最后不得不放弃了这方案，任由手下将他拉了上去。最后，一名叫凌的士兵俯下身来拽住了他的手，雷诺借力跳出洞口，顺势躺倒在地，也不管周围扬起的灰尘弄得他灰头土脸的。他木然地盯着天空，一动不动地在那躺了好一会儿。这一天所发生一切在他脑海里一一掠过，让他无意识地闭上了双眼……

第六章

　　这次的梦似乎有点不同，如果这的确是在梦境中的话。他站在一个有着厚厚的粗糙的墙壁的隧道里面，虽然没有光，可他还是能够清清楚楚的看见那些石墙和地板。他可以感觉到他赤脚下的岩石，可以闻到空气中些许的硫磺味，以及陈腐的空气中的血腥和烂肉味。他的感觉仍在，身体也感觉到阵阵刺痛。他感到这一切真是不可思议。

　　他周围都是异虫，就和之前多次出现在他梦中的一样，但是现在他却不害怕它们。难道说他们畏缩了，还是说自己已经变强了？不管怎么说，这些生物们不再是高高骑在他的头上了，现在他已经可以平视他们了，或者说可以俯视他们了。他们也不再群集围观他，而只是单纯地站在他旁边。空气中那种陌生感，沉重感，距离感一下子全没了，只剩下一点表示曾存在过的痕迹。在此之前它们还都是怪物，令人生畏地生物，它们的生命形态也无法被理解，更别说它们的想法和动机了。现在他很轻松地理解了它们，这种熟悉感让他原先的恐惧荡然无存。当他能清楚地弄明白它们的名字，能够平等地甚至超然地和它们交流的时候，还怎会感觉恐惧？

　　事实上，他发觉他正在和它们交流。但是他嘴里所说出的词句都不是他自己的想说的。这些话语来自凯瑞甘。

　　她正向一种巨大的肉乎乎的生物讲话，这家伙看起来就和肉质的加农炮似的，它被称为脑虫。“脑虫，”她告诉它，“你在我孵化期间一直监护着这一进程，我对此非常感激。”脑虫轻微地蠕动了下，他惊奇地感觉到脑虫这是感觉到了愉悦和骄傲。对他而言他从未想过异虫们还会有这种感情，他开始思考是不是只是因为他从人类感情的角度去理解它们才产生这种感觉。这样想就对了，但接着他又意识到并不只有他一个人想到这点了。凯瑞甘也思考了类似的东西并且得出了相同的结论。人类在面对未知的事物的时候总是倾向用自己熟悉的思维模式去认知，这也说明了尽管凯瑞甘最近发生了这么大的转变，她思维的很大一部分仍然属于人类。“我非常希望你能够继续恪守其责，”她又开始讲了起来。“这样我就能够积蓄我的力量，更好地援护我们的虫群。”

　　不，雷诺突然想大喊出来。别跟它们搅和在一起！你不属于它们！别去帮它们，它们是敌人！他竭力用手拍着头，扯着头发，想干点什么来把脑子里这种想法给拽出来。但是与之前的梦境不同的是，他在这根本控制不了什么，即使是他自己的身体。他只是一个旁观者，没有任何力量来影响凯瑞甘或者那些异虫们的举动。

　　在他对自己进行肉体摧残的时候他错过了她最后说的一些话，接着第二个脑虫，就是那个在她孵化时出现在她的蛹旁的那个脑虫开始发言了。令雷诺震惊的是他居然可以轻易地把这些脑虫分辨开来。“虽然你是主宰的宠仆，”这个脑虫厉声说到，雷诺可以听出它言语中的怒气。“你最好牢记你只是一个仆人。你也知晓我们的首要使命，凯瑞甘。你不能把你的个人意志凌驾于主宰之力其上。”其他的异虫纷纷开始后退，它们感觉到了两个头目之间的摩擦，预感着他们之间会有一场争斗，雷诺也是这么想的，因为他比谁都熟悉凯瑞甘的脾性，所以当他看到凯瑞甘并没有攻击没有丝毫防护的脑虫时感到非常惊奇。

　　她只是冷冷地给了它一个蔑视的眼神。但她骨翼却呼地一下自发展开，比量着那个脑虫，急切地想把那个肉虫子切成碎肉。雷诺可以感觉到凯瑞甘对此的回应：一半是恐惧，这种恐惧来源于她的新躯体居然表现的如此强势和桀骜不驯，另一半则是兴奋，为她的新身体能够有着这样的保护本能而兴奋。“别跟我作对，扎兹，”她趾高气扬地警告着它。“我只会做我认为对的事情。”接着她故意转过身不去正眼看它。“还有，你或者其它任何脑虫都应该顺从我的意志。”扎兹对凯瑞甘的语调和明确的苛责反应很大。它肉筒般的躯干紧绷了起来，从里面发出的光也快速地脉动着变成了灼热的闪光。他周围的一些异虫也开始缓缓靠到他们头目的身旁，为它们的头目伸开了自己的爪牙，尖刺还有利镰。这群混蛋要发起攻击了！雷诺可以感觉出来，接着他就感觉到了如同潮水般的兴奋充满了自己身体，他立刻明白了这股兴奋并不属于他。凯瑞甘在说出刚才那些话时候就有着清晰的意图，她故意撩惹那个脑虫让它失去自制。她就是期待着扎兹命令自己的部下攻击她，这样她就能顺理成章地干掉它并接管它手下的虫群。她会把那个脑虫彻底抹除掉，雷诺很清楚这点。脑虫只是一个领导者，决策者，并不是一个战士。但凯瑞甘两种特质都具备，尤其是处在她现在这种新形态下。脑虫笨拙，脆弱，只能依靠它的族群来战斗，凯瑞甘可以干掉任何一个这样的脑虫。她完全可以在扎兹的族群中杀出一条血路冲到它面前把它干掉。但是就在扎兹的族群开始进攻的时候，一个声音贯穿了它们全体，那深沉的音色翻滚的音节让它们全部瘫成一团。这阵强大的声波让它们全体变得惊恐无言。这个声音雷诺以前也曾听到过，他曾发誓再也不想再次听到这个声音。“由她去，扎兹，”声音抑扬着。“她思维里面保留着一些卓越的东西，整个虫群都会从她极端的行为中获益。不要担忧她的企图，因为她和其他脑虫一样与我密切相连。”那个声音桀桀地笑了起来，这种声音让雷诺感觉卑鄙不堪。“正是如此，”它解释着，“没有一个异虫能偏离我的意志，因为你们的一切都依赖于我的存在。凯瑞甘可以做任何她想做的事。”接着声音消退了，雷诺虚弱地跪在地上，急促地喘着气，但他知道并不只有他一个人如此狼狈。凯瑞甘也被这个声音完全压制了，扎兹和其他异虫自然也在话下。

　　发怒的脑虫迅速地平静了下来，它的那些族群成员也陆续散开了，垂下来他们的肢爪来表明他们没有任何恶意。

　　“如您所愿，我的主宰，”它如是宣称。雷诺很清楚它原来有着截然不同的想法，但他同样也知道现在根本就没必要再担心这个脑虫了，除非以后形势发生改变。他非常明白没有一个异虫能够抗衡主宰的命令。直到声音到来之前，扎兹还磨刀霍霍地准备用武力把凯瑞甘给做掉。现在主宰给出了一些与其想法不同的指示，这个脑虫就必须竭尽全力去贯穿这种指示。“脑虫，”扎兹明显对另一头脑虫说。“你也看到了，最后她成了毫无恶意。我的族群将留在后方保护孵化间免受进一步的亵渎。”

　　“我的族群将誓死保护她的安全。”另一个脑虫如是回答。

　　“理应如此，”凯瑞甘简短地评论道。雷诺感觉到她开始转身离开，如果没有意外的话第二头脑虫的族群也会跟着她。事实上它们也跟上了。雷诺现在通过凯瑞甘的思维明白了，脑虫自身并不移动。它们实在太庞大太笨重了，根本无法移动。这样它们从精神上来控制自己的部队，尤其通过它们的那些领主。尽管所有的脑虫都留在了孵化间，扎兹的精力主要是负责本地的事宜而其他脑虫则控制着跟随凯瑞甘的活动的那些部队。

　　另外一个脑虫呆在这个集会场的一个角落里。雷诺之前一直没有注意到它，它看起来之前故意隐藏起自己的气息。现在雷诺清楚地看到了它，并且明白了这头脑虫甚至比扎兹还要老还要强力。事实上，这头叫做达苟斯的脑虫如同主宰的左右手一般。达苟斯的族群之前一直簇拥着它，但是现在一些刺蛇从虫堆里面分离了出来挪到了凯瑞甘面前。“脑虫，带上它们，我最得力的仆从，”达苟斯说到，“它们会对你的搜索极有帮助。”

　　“我会好好的利用它们的，”凯瑞甘向脑虫保证道，那些刺蛇接着汇入了她身后其他异虫之中。然后达苟斯撤回了它的精神感应，专注到自己的事务之上，扎兹也早已不再作声，现在只剩下凯瑞甘和她那些新加入的追随者。

　　“我们必须立刻攻击，”她告诉第二个脑虫。雷诺发现这个脑虫并没有名字，接着他就明白了为什么。在异虫之中，名字作为识别的手段，仅仅被赐予那些长期忠实服务于主宰的那些异虫。扎兹和达苟斯都是如此。现在这个脑虫还太年轻，还没能扬威立万。至于凯瑞甘，是一个特殊的例子，或许这也可以解释扎兹的不满？她不仅保留了自己原来的名字而且在她重生的时候又获得了另外一个名字。她仍旧在和脑虫交谈，雷诺竭力想听清她说的话。“我一旦拥有了……”

　　“长官？”

　　雷诺花了好一会才从梦境地残影中恢复过来，意识到自己并非徜徉在一个异虫的地下巢穴之中而是躺在一颗行星的表面。卡维兹正俯身看着他。

　　“长官，所有人都已就位，”小伙子如此汇报。雷诺点点头拉着年轻人伸过来的手站了起来，晃了晃脑袋来弄掉沾到头发上的浮尘，同时也试图理清他脑子里关于做的梦的事情。凯瑞甘准备说什么？他思忖着，她要攻击哪里？尽管他极度厌恶这些梦境，尤其是刚才那个，因为刚才的梦向他展示了凯瑞甘对于她的新身份相当享受，尽管如此他还是非常希望卡维兹没有这么快就把他叫醒。因为这些没能获取的信息有可能相当重要。

　　但现在再说什么都晚了。擦去了他护目镜上的顽固的污渍后，他朝周围扫视了一圈估计了下形势。一共23名士兵。跟他一起下来的300来名士兵现在就只剩这么多了。这些幸存者之中很多都受了伤，有些还伤的很重。他们有充足的武器弹药么？一些有经验的伞降兵已经开始从他们死去的战友的身体上翻找弹夹了。武器如此，更不用提没有食物；他们原本就没计划要在这呆多长时间。每个人只带了一壶水和一些应急口粮，而且大部分人在降落的时候就把它们消耗掉了，或者将其分给受伤的人来恢复体力了。

　　“撤回穿梭机那里，”他最终如此宣布，拍了拍一个坐着的士兵的肩膀，这位士兵正把头埋在膝间，双臂无精打采地垂在身子两边。“我们走吧，士兵。”他用最温柔的口气告诉她。“等我们离开这该死的石头地我们有足够的时间来休息。”他向她伸出了一只手。

　　接下来就是让他们把人聚集起来，帮助受伤的士兵行走，然后按照他们通信设备上指示出的穿梭机的位置前进。他不得不承认，这是任务结束了，而他失败了。他来这想找到凯瑞甘，他想救她，但是他没有成功。她不想被他救，而且就算他有能力把异虫对凯瑞甘所做的一切给复原过来，他也没有足够的人手把她从异虫那里抢夺过来。见鬼，他也不认为孟斯克能做到这点，即使他能在他的帝国里呼风唤雨。现在他唯一能做的就是他妈的躲开凯瑞甘，忘掉她，继续前进。并且他妈的期望她不会追上他。从这里到穿梭机有相当一段路程，一方面归功于他们在找到下来的滑道前走了相当长一段距离，另一方面现在他们不得不另找一条路来返回地面。幸运的是查尔这颗行星地理环境还算随和，只有一些低矮的山丘和浅浅的山谷，他们就可以他们现在的位置走直线回到穿梭机哪里。雷诺在前面走着，卡维兹和南紧随之后，后面的伞降兵们也很快调整了他们的步伐，最后变成了一种急行军的节奏。雷诺也配合着这种节奏，这种稳定的节拍和周围单调的景色很快就让他似睡非睡，能够正常地走路，但又不是真正的清醒状态。显然，这种状态足够再次触发刚才的梦境了。

　　他现在在一艘太空舰上，一时间他认为这只是一个正常的睡梦，或者说是关于某种事物的记忆。接着在他视野的角落他看到了一个影子，这个影子用其又长又结实的肢干在走廊墙上划着，肢干的末端是一个巨大的骨质镰刀，雷诺立刻意识到他又回到了凯瑞甘的头脑里。她身边有很多异虫，并且其后还有更多，这些异虫发出嘶嘶的声音，它们穿过钢灰色大厅的时候刮擦着地板沙沙作响。

　　异虫们实在一艘太空船里面。

　　它们怎能？这是他的第一反应。异虫不是不能操纵太空船么？他们似乎通过某种有机空间隧道进行太空旅行；孟斯克那边有个人曾试图向他解释这些东西，但是对于虫子们怎么不用任何科技手段就能打开链接两个世界的虫洞这一章节他实在起不起来了。而且，从他所看到过大部分的虫子看来，它们也没有那种灵活到足够操纵联邦飞船的肢体。一般情况下虫子们对飞船都不怎么在乎，它们只是瞄准人攻击，有时会派出飞龙和小自爆机从外侧攻击太空舰。所以他们现在怎么会待在飞船里面？毫无疑问这是一艘地球联邦的飞船。他认出了那种制式塑料墙板，非常实用的灰地毯，以及墙壁和天花板结合处的内嵌照明设施。过去这些年他可是在这种船上呆过相当长的时间。

　　对了，他突然开窍了，凯瑞甘自然能够驾驶这种飞船。这就意味着异虫们现在也都学会了。

　　但为什么呢？这是他脑子里第二个疑问。如果他们能够仅凭己力就能穿梭于空间之中，为何还需要一艘飞船呢？他们在那干什么？雷诺突然想起了之前梦里凯瑞甘最后说的那些话。“我们必须立刻攻击，”她这样说过。难道这个攻击和联邦飞船有关？那么这是谁的船？他知道自己的飞船在轨道上，但是杜克的船也在那。尽管内心有些许的罪恶感，他还是希望凯瑞甘现在入侵的是杜克的船。有这种可能，而且如果他足够走运，她现在入侵的就是诺拉德三号。让那个老混蛋和她打个照面吧。

　　随着凯瑞甘在大厅里越走越远，雷诺注意到了更多的细节，这是他内心一下沉重了起来，这些被刷的一片空白的金属墙壁，铺在地上的令人乏味的地毯，还有壁内灯，所有的东西都很实用但基本都没有什么军事用途，这不是一艘战斗舰。这绝对不是休伯利安，也不是诺拉德三号，也不是其他任何一艘战斗母舰。它有可能他的一些小型飞船或者杜克的科学船或货船。当一些人出现在他前面的一道门时他知道自己猜对了。那些人都是平民，技术人员和研究者。不管他们为谁工作，他们面对在他们从走道里冲过去的异虫们时丝毫没有任何防备。一个女人首先目击了这些异形，她尖叫了起来，然后她跌倒了，双腿因恐惧而打着颤，只是瘫在那里低头啜泣。一个刺蛇迅速地解决了她，于是她的啜泣戛然而止。另一个女人转身想冲回她刚走出去的门，但是她是如此惊慌以至于根本就无法打开舱门。一个异虫冲上来，干脆利落地用它的尖爪贯穿了她的胸腔，把她反钉在门板上，接着它晃了晃自己的肢爪，一下子把那女人的尸体给甩到一边去了，鲜血喷溅地到处都是，地上，旁边的人身上。有几滴溅到了凯瑞甘身上，她用一只手擦掉了它们，接着漫不经心地吮吸着沾着血液的手指。

　　有两个平民，一个男人一个女人，因为在刚才那群人最后还没有收到袭击。那个男人目睹了凯瑞甘的举动，他眼睛来回打量着她的形态，最后惊惧的脸色都变成了灰色。

　　“她被感染了！”他喘着粗气喊道。他用手拦在在那个女人前面，这个荒谬的举动让那些虫子们迅速的围了过来。“离她远点！”他喊叫着，究竟这是一种对他所面对异形们的请求还是对他身后女人的警告雷诺不得而知。

　　“赶快求救！”那个女人喊了出来，这句话提醒了那个男人，他猛地按下了门旁一个按钮，紧急呼救按钮，蓝色的灯光开始在走道里面来回闪烁。当然还有警报声，更多的人出现从其它门或交叉点冲进大厅，当他们看到异虫们的时候他们尖叫了起来，同时不停地咒骂着。男人的这个英雄举动葬送了他的生命，一个虫子把他的头从肩膀上扯了下来，接着遭殃的是他身后那个女人，她的胸腔被撕成两半，内脏被暴露在空气之中，这一切一瞬之间完成，甚至让她没有机会喊叫出来。

　　雷诺被强制着目睹了这一切，无法从梦中醒来，无法转过身去，随着虫子们在船上穿行，它们宰掉了遇到的每一个人。最终一小班武装士兵穿着装甲出现在它们面前，当雷诺注意到他们身上的地球联邦标记的时他心里稍稍宽慰了下。不管凯瑞甘想干什么，她现在入侵的是杜克的船。“别想活着出去了，你个婊子！”他们中一个伞骑兵喊道，同时用他手里的高斯枪火力全开射向靠近虫子。一些虫子被打中了，还有两个虫子摔倒后被钢刺给贯穿了喉咙和眼睛。

　　“看到了？”另一个伞骑兵吼叫着，大笑着同时挥舞着他的武器四处射击。“它们也不是那么硬！”他加宽了弹幕覆盖的范围更多的异虫被打死了。“这些狗杂种也会流血！”他这样喊着，同时他的同伴们冲他喝起采来。但是凯瑞甘没有被打到，但是一个伞骑兵瞄准了凯瑞甘开枪，一丛铁刺冲她飞来使雷诺感到脊背发凉。但她只是举起了一只手，然后这些铁刺们就定在了半空，如同钉到了墙上一般砰的停住了。然后凯瑞甘又做了手势，这些铁刺就旋转着飞回了开枪的那个士兵那里，砰！一下把他掼到了墙上。这些铁刺不光钉入了那个士兵的身体，甚至穿过他的身体钉到了墙里面，他的尸体就被挂在那，手里的来福枪也无力地滑了下来。

　　凯瑞甘径直地走了上去，挡下了对她的攻击，有时还还击回去。她身后的异虫不停地被打死，但是雷诺知道她根本不在乎。它们都是消耗品，她所在乎的只有她和她在这的目标。

　　另一个伞骑兵从她身边跑来跑去的虫子中瞄准了凯瑞甘。“我们有伴了！”他大喊着，接着他大口喘着气，现在他能更清楚地看到她了。他开始撤退，但是定在了原地，眼珠鼓了起来。凯瑞甘定住了他，让他瘫在了那，她一下跳到他身后用她的指刃捅透了他的后背，把他的脊椎骨切得跟碎布条似的。并且在他的身体塌下去之前她又跳到了另一个人那里，她的翅膀焦躁地卷来卷去，每一个骨刺都瞄准了下一个目标。一个眼神就炸焦了那个伞骑兵的思想，当他七窍流血地倒在地上的时候她已经开始去寻找第三个目标。这一系列的动作只花了凯瑞甘两秒钟，即使雷诺就在她脑子里看着也很难跟上每一个动作。他早就知道，早在他第一次见她的时候，她是如此迅捷和致命。他和她在一起的经历证明了这点，迈克还告诉过他在安提格-普瑞姆（Antiga Prim）行星上发生的事，她用一把小刀和一支手枪就干掉了整屋子的武装人员。她现在比那时行动更快了，而且她也不再需要任何武器了因为她有了异虫的身体和精神能力，尽管这些精神能力她之前一直不愿动用。伞骑兵挂地很快，甚至连哀嚎都没能发出，接着整个走道再次被清空，剩下地虫子们聚集起来，从那些尸体上爬过，继续前进。

　　“这边，”凯瑞甘命令道，转向一个楼梯道，那些异虫忠实地执行了她的命令。似乎更多的人被杀死了，既有平民又有士兵，就在她走下铁质楼梯的同时。因为下面的空间有限，很多异虫被留在了上面，从声音上来看他们正在上面屠杀者靠近地倒霉鬼。凯瑞甘一点也没有停下她的步伐，径直走到了楼梯的最低端，接着穿过了一个窄窄的长长的丝毫不起眼的门厅。她显然很清楚自己想去哪里。很明显她现在在一艘科学船上，而不是一艘货船，因为货船肯定没这么窄小。但她为什么要到这种船上来呢？没什么不直接攻下诺拉德三号，那家伙明显更具威胁性。

　　“这，”她最后停在尽头一个厚重的防爆门前开口道。这里的键盘锁比船上其他地方的都要复杂，雷诺也发现自己之前从未见过这扇门，更别说知道门后有什么东西了，但凯瑞甘显然知道。

　　她并没有费力去试图打开这锁。相反的，她用一只手握住了门把手，接着把另一只手的手指挤进了门和墙之间的细缝里，分开双脚，扭腰发力。这扇门在她面前先是吱吱作响，接着缝隙开始变大，最终被她扯开一边去了。门后的屋子里黑乎乎地满是陈腐的气息，里面有些小灯在不停闪着，凯瑞甘看着屋里笑了起来。

　　“很好，”她说道。“我所寻找的就在其中，很快？”

　　（哔-）

　　“见鬼！”

　　一声'哔-'声唤醒了边走边睡的雷诺，接着就是一句粗口。哔声来自他的通讯器，此外他还朦胧地感觉到这声音在他身后似乎回响了下。是南爆的粗口。

　　扫视了下他手上的通讯器，他发现屏幕上还显示这行军开始是他所选择的地形网格，显示着他们的行进轨迹以及他们的行军将会结束在？目的地没了。

　　原本该在那的标记点没了。标记了穿梭机发信位置标记点没了。

　　“长官，”卡维兹征询着，“我们似乎刚刚？”

　　“我知道，我知道！”雷诺不耐烦地打断了他的话，仍旧死死地盯着他的显示屏。发生了什么？信号源呢？就是那些用来和其他穿梭机以及休伯利安号区分开来的信号源，原来好好的显示着呢，现在哪去了？扫视了下周围，他发现所有人都在看着自己的手腕上的通讯器，摇着，拍打着，乱摁着上面的按钮。所有人的显示都是一样的，一片空白。他想起什么似的马上又刷新了一遍通讯器的屏幕，因为通讯器是周期性地接受信号。但是仍然什么都没有，那些发信源之前的确在那儿，但是现在不知怎地怎么也检测不到了。这中间一定发生了什么。那些穿梭机肯定发生了什么。伞降兵们几乎走完了他们返程。雷诺输入他面前的小山的位置，再次检查了一遍他已经确认过的显示屏。他们的穿梭机刚才就在这座小山这里。雷诺费力地爬上这座小山，同时气喘吁吁地用手挥开地上扬起的浮灰，最终他爬到了山顶，开始向下面的谷地望去，那片他们停放穿梭机的谷地。

　　谷地上面空荡荡的，什么也没有，只有几块覆满土尘地平坦地，剩下就是深色的岩石和灰暗的碎土。残肢碎骸扔得到处都是。“不！”他哀号了起来，跌跌撞撞地冲下了山丘，徒劳地握着手里的步枪。在这发生的一切早已结束，穿梭机也早就没影了。

第七章（上）

　　“死了，长官，”雷诺此前开导过的那名女兵检查完尸体后走了回来，“看来是Zerg.”“这边也一样，”另一头的士兵确认完自己负责的那具，站起身来附和道。雷诺点了点头，他跟前的这具也是一样。这尸体名叫桑切斯，曾是休伯利安号上的穿梭机的驾驶员之一。桑切斯被撕成了好几片，行凶手法跟雷诺以前见过的Zerg完全相符——该死的，什么以前，几个钟头前他在通道里就看到过类似一幕。

　　Zerg肯定来过这里，杀光了他所有驾驶员还抢走了他的穿梭机。为什么？Zerg会需要穿梭机这种事情，完全没听说过——他们的领主能自行穿越空间，要他的穿梭机何用？

　　他的联络器又响了起来，提示有信息传来。雷诺心不在焉地按了接收，打开了通话线路，眼睛却仍扫视着周围，想看出个究竟。然而接下来听到的声音立刻转移了他的注意力。

　　“紧急呼救！紧急呼救！”这个女声他并不耳熟，“有人听得见吗？”

　　他正要回答，另一个声音切了进来。“收到，”雷诺立刻听出这是杜克在咆哮，声音略带沙哑，“这里是诺德III。继续讲。”杜克这家伙竟然也会亲自应答，这让雷诺有些惊奇，于是他决定继续偷听下去。或许还能了解到一些有用信息，比如他那几艘穿梭机到底怎么了。

　　“长官！”雷诺听出她松了口气，“这里是亚美利哥号的杉德尔，我们正遭到攻击，长官！”

　　“谁在向你们开火？”杜克问道。雷诺明白此刻的杜克肯定觉得这是他做的。倒也没什么不公平的——要是换个立场，他肯定也第一个想到这记仇的傻X。

　　“不是外部攻击，长官，”杉德尔立刻回复，“是入侵，他们上了我们的船！”雷诺似乎确实听到了她身后的枪响和惨叫声。

　　“谁上了飞船，船长？”杜克问道，“你们究竟在和谁打？”

　　“Zerg，长官，”她说，“是Zerg！它们来了！”雷诺刚开始还以为最后那句只是强调句，但他很快听到了更多枪响，然后是一声凄厉的惨叫，再是短暂的呻吟，然后没声音了。

　　“杉德尔？杉德尔！”杜克咆哮道。然而没有任何回音。雷诺确认了他的联络器，发现线路依然开着，却没有应答。“该死！”他转向卡维兹，正打算说什么，联络器又一次响了起来。这次呼叫的来源不同，是艘他自己的飞船。

　　“长官，这里是钱德勒号的威林顿。我们正遭到Zerg攻击——在船舱内部！”

　　然后是第三个呼救信号。“长官，哈勃号的中尉费森向您汇报，我们遭到入侵！船长倒下了，我们伤亡惨重！”

　　第四个呼救信号，兰格雷从杜克的运兵船三叶草号上发来了类似情况。雷诺终于明白了。Zerg抢了他的穿梭机，甚至还可能抢了杜克派下来的穿梭机，但并不是说他们要拿这些东西来搞运输，运输不是关键。关键是穿梭机能让它们获得登舰权限，这意味着Zerg可以轻易侵入他们停在外空轨道上的那些飞船，然后杀死里面所有的人。和Terran的登舰作战部队不同，Zerg并不在意自身安全，也不在意船体完整性——就算飞船坠毁它们也活得了。何况死几个小兵对虫群来说谈不上任何损失。这是个能绕过一切防御系统的绝妙法子。何况是凯瑞甘还能用她的心灵能力在杀死穿梭机驾驶员前从他们脑海里搜出授权码。她侵入杜克的飞船时用的应该是他们的穿梭机，或是雷诺自己的那些穿梭机，毕竟她还可以在穿梭机即将接驳的时候从目标飞船的乘员那里盗取授权码。事态很明显，Zerg正侵入他和杜克的每一艘飞船。

　　包括休伯利安。

　　他快速按下了他的旗舰的联络码。

　　“玛特！”线路刚一接通他就大喊，“玛特，你听得见吗？”

　　“长官？”霍尼尔的声音一如往常，这让雷诺稍稍松了口气。显然他的副官如果正在舰上打仗，声音肯定不会如此平静。

　　“听着，玛特，没时间了，”他迅速说道，“Zerg正要进攻你那。让大家做好准备，叫他们都进救生船呆着——你会用的到它们的。我要你——”

　　“长官，这是什么意思？”霍尼尔打断了他的话，“我们的望远镜里没有任何Zerg的迹象，只看到几艘返航的穿梭机。我想还是等你上来了再详谈好了。”

　　“什么？我——？”雷诺闭上了眼睛，但这一次梦境并没有出现，“玛特，我的穿梭机到哪里了？”

　　“就要进坞了，长官。”霍尼尔十分困惑，“可你自己不知道吗？”

　　“我当然不知道，”雷诺只得耐心解释，“我不在那船里。听着，玛特。锁住那艘穿梭机。封住船坞，全给我封住，一只蚂蚁也别让进出。”

　　“可是，长官——好吧，”显然他完全没有理解，但霍尼尔还是像往常一样如实执行了他的命令。雷诺听见他敲击键盘的声音，然后是轻轻的一声“哈。”“这可怪了，”霍尼尔最后说。

　　“什么？出了什么问题？”

　　“说我越权，”霍尼尔边敲击着键盘边说。“我没法锁定那船，它用的是你的授权码，到底是怎么回事？”

　　雷诺咒骂了一声，希望自己能做些什么。可他都不能做。他被困在行星表面，眼看着虫群淹没他的一艘艘飞船，现在，轮到休伯利安了。

　　“你能弄到更高的权限么？”他问。

　　“不行，长官，”回答很干脆。“从设计上讲是不可能的。”想到这霍尼尔不由得失笑。这笑声更让雷诺感到痛苦。他还只是个孩子！

　　“肯定还有什么办法能阻止他们！”他不甘心地说。他在脑海中回忆起休伯利安的内部设计，一边诅咒着孟斯克的品位。是的，里头那些宽阔宏伟的楼梯间没有装任何的门，想要封锁楼层根本没可能。Zerg一进船坞就可长驱直入。“不管你做什么，总之不能让那艘船进港！”

　　“好吧，”霍尼尔说话有点犹豫。他显然想到了什么但不愿说出来。他的声音依然那么平静，比雷诺平静许多，不过从他的声调里，雷诺还是听得出来，这孩子在害怕。他当然有权这样做。

　　“怎么，玛特？没时间了！”

　　“我可以做一次紧急空间跳跃，”霍尼尔回答道。

　　雷诺立刻明白了。领航员和驾驶员们在策划空间跳跃方面总是非常谨慎的，事前都要花上几个小时。那当然是因为小小的一个差错就会令飞船偏离目标几百万光年，或者让它里外颠倒甚至更糟，何况曲相引擎通常要花上几个钟头来预热。无计划无准备的盲跳完全等同于自杀。

　　“做吧，”他很满意自己还没在咆哮，“这是命令，玛特。”

　　“遵命，长官。”他听见玛特正剧烈地敲击着键盘，知道那是在输入空间跳跃的指令。雷诺输入了他的私人授权码，以盖过休伯利安的安全机制，那是他唯一能做事，这种唐突的跳跃行为通常是被禁止的。

　　最后他听到了一串背景音，表示飞船已准备起航。“祝你好运，玛特，”他轻轻地说。

　　“你也一样，吉姆。”玛特回复道。然后，他消失了。

　　雷诺感到一阵小小的宽慰。至少休伯利安不会被虫群淹没。即便它撞上了什么星球，或是跳进了黑洞里，至少也好过让Zerg在船上把他们都杀光，

　　他只希望还能对剩下的几艘飞船做些什么。休伯利安是唯一有能力这么快撕裂空间的飞船。其余的船都不具备这样强力的引擎。而他的旗舰既已传送走了，也就没办法一并带走剩下的飞船。它们就只能被困在轨道上，自行对付Zerg，而他则被困在星球表面，完全无法接触它们。

　　然而，还剩下一种可能性。

　　雷诺快速将联络器拨向了另一频段。他几乎立刻收到了回音。

　　“是谁？”一个年轻人问道。

　　“这里是吉姆·雷诺，”他回答。“马上给我接杜克将军。”

　　杜克的声音很快传来，“你又在玩什么花样，流氓阿飞？”

　　雷诺咽回了他的怒气。现在可不是时候。“听着，杜克，”他拼命地说，“我知道我们互相厌恶，但我需要你的帮助。”他无视了杜克的笑声继续说，“我的飞船被Zerg侵入了。”他快速说明了情况，“我的穿梭机也都被偷了。我需要你派人去清理我的飞船，或者至少去救援我的人。我知道它们也进了你的飞船，可你有足够的火力清理它们，我没有。”

　　然后是一阵沉默。

　　“杜克，你听见了吗？”雷诺问道，“它们正在我的船上屠杀我每一个人！而你的士兵是唯一能帮得上忙的。请你帮助我！”

　　又是一阵短暂的沉默，然后杜克终于有了反应。他狂笑起来。

　　“你要我救你的人？”他笑完后说，“你次次跟我对着干，背叛帝国和孟斯克，偷走了我们的飞船，让我出尽了丑，现在还想要我来帮你？去帮那些因为你一句话就背叛了我的你的手下？小子，你脸皮是够厚，可就是没什么脑水。”

　　“听着，你爱怎么怪我都行，”雷诺道，“下来抓我好了，我不会抵抗的。你可以折磨我，处决我，怎样都行。但请不要把帐算在我的手下头上。不要因为我的过错而杀死他们。我在求你，杜克！”

　　“很好，”杜克慢悠悠地说，“你确实在求我。这让我以后在每个寒冷的冬天里想起这些话都会觉得温暖。”他又一次笑了出来，然后他的声音再次变得沙哑，“这坟是你自己挖的，小子，现在你自己躺进去了。现在死了那么多人，都要算在你的头上。希望这话能让你晚上睡得更香。”说完他关掉了连接。不一会儿雷诺看到一个黑影穿过天空，变得越来越小。他知道那是正驶离查尔的诺德III号，后面至少跟着一艘飞船。杜克已经夹起尾巴逃跑了。在逃避Zerg这点上雷诺确实无法指责他，毕竟他自己也至少已经有一艘飞船被这些Zerg从内部击坠。但他在心里暗暗发誓，如果他能活下来，一定会去追杀杜克，让那老头为对他的人见死不救付出代价。

　　“该怎么办，长官？”卡维兹问道。雷诺摇了摇头。

　　“我不知道，”他承认。他再次望向天空，努力试图辨认出他悬浮在大气层外的那几艘飞船。他毫无悬念地看着他们一艘艘坠落，并不停安慰自己：至少还会有生还者。

　　他还以为没有比这更绝望的事态了。

　　他错了。

　　猛然间，一束眩目的光柱刺穿了天空，让他不得不遮住眼睛。光柱击中了其中一艘他的飞船，包裹住了它，那光辉即便在日光之下依然清晰可辨。飞船燃烧了起来，显现出跃动的光晕，然后光晕向内塌陷。飞船像纸一样皱拢了起来。当光柱淡去，飞船也随之消失，没留下任何痕迹。

　　“什么？”雷诺目瞪口呆地盯着那块空空如也的天空。就在刚才，一艘他的飞船被毁了，被彻底地湮灭了。谁能做到那种事情？

　　答案立刻出来了：Protoss.他扫视着天空，果然发现了一艘造型精美、亮丽的Protoss飞船，正漂浮在他的小舰队左近。他想起了玛特当时的警告，在他刚踏上查尔表面的时候，有一艘Protoss飞船传送到了他们附近。显然说的就是这艘。

　　但Protoss为何要攻击他的船？

　　答案再次浮现：因为Zerg.Protoss疯狂地热衷于猎杀Zerg，甚至包括它们的一切存在痕迹。而现在Zerg上了他的船，Protoss当然要毁掉它们，他的人只是陪葬品。

　　光柱又一次射出，又一艘飞船被照亮，吞噬，湮灭。当第三艘飞船被抹煞后，雷诺的联络器再次发来了信号。他慌忙低头察看，惊讶地发现显示屏上出现了一个新的光点。联络器已经自动将本地坐标切换到更大范围的全球坐标了。这个新光点出现在他的一艘飞船旁边，但行驶方向却向着查尔。是救生船！或是某艘穿梭机！而这意味着有生还者！

　　他的希望只持续了一瞬。Protoss飞船再度开火，这次正对着那艘救生船。雷诺眼中只看到了又一束光柱，那个新的光点就此从联络器上消失。

　　其他的光点陆续出现，全部来自他的飞船，不约而同地驶向查尔表面。然而每一次，Protoss战舰都准确出击，将它们一一射下。然而有一艘穿梭机看来是躲过了光柱，至少没被直接命中——它在小屏幕上不断晃荡，明显受到了损伤，但还是沿着粗略螺旋形轨迹往下降。雷诺立刻指挥起他的部队。

　　“有生还者了！”他举起来复枪喊道，“快过去！”士兵们步调一致，跟着他冲向预定的坠落点。雷诺的眼睛也时刻注意着联络器，以免漏下任何重要消息，比如任何生还者的消息，或是他的哪艘飞船成功清除了Zerg，或是Protoss直接联络他说这只是权宜性质的抹煞攻击。

　　又有两艘穿梭机成功逃入了查尔的大气层，多少受到了Protoss的伤害并没有完全失灵。而在高空轨道上，Protoss在继续毁灭雷诺剩余的飞船。

　　“长官？”是哈里森号的船长琳达·布鲁斯。

　　“怎么了，琳达？”她娇小丰满，有头金色的短发，夹杂着几根黄褐色，爱抽雪茄，喜欢喝她自酿的超难喝酒水，还爱在玩扑克的时候明目张胆地作弊。他挺喜欢她的。

　　“Zerg占领了整座飞船，长官。除了舰桥这里，而他们也已经打到门外了。很抱歉，长官。”

　　“别这样，”雷诺断然说道，“你做得很好，琳达。谢谢你。”

　　“是，长官，”她回应道，“祝你好运，长官。”然后她毅然切断了线路。

　　一分钟以后，Protoss光束切开了哈里森号，这艘船太大了，光束无法一次性将它吞噬，但光线一次接一次地攻击，将飞船逐一分解。雷诺已经分不出哪部分被击中过，哪部分又正被打击。他注意到的，只有哈里森号何时离线。他茫然地看着布满硝烟和尘埃的天空，看着飞船一片一片地被切成虚无。当光线最终退去，留下只有一片空旷的天空。

　　哈里森号是最后一艘。他所有的飞船都已经全部消失，所有生还者只剩下他和他身边的这群人，还有那几艘成功逃逸的飞船里的活人。另外玛特如果能保住休伯利安，那么旗舰上还能有那么一小撮人。所有的人，所有追随他，崇拜他，信赖他的人。都死了。因为他而死的。

　　他把这想法从脑海中清扫了出去。尽管他知道，将来这感觉会一辈子陪伴着他，折磨着他。但那是以后的事情。现在，他得去搜索幸存者。

第七章（下）

　　四十分钟之后他们赶到了三个坠机地点里最近的一个。那不是逃生舱而是架穿梭机，被烧焦的机身和损坏的引擎里冒出的浓烟远远就能看到。星灵的光柱略微扫到了这架飞船，毁掉了大部分的动力系统和一侧机翼，不过驾驶员还是在降落的时候保住了整船的完整性。当雷诺带人爬上一个山坡之后他们看到那架穿梭机的门已经打开，有几个人站在穿梭机旁边。尽管那里人数不多，但是这个场面还是让雷诺惊喜万分，结果就是他毫无防备地向他们冲了过去。

　　“长官！”人群中的一人举步向前，左臂环抱着身体，金发随风飘荡，满面的灰尘使得这个女人看起来十分虚弱。“长官！艾伯娜西上尉，隶属钱德勒号。”除开她那只受伤的胳膊，她看起来并无大碍。

　　“上尉，真是高兴死我了！”雷诺说道。随后他快速的清点了人数：加上上尉一共二十三人——大约是穿梭机一半的运载量，其中四个平民，剩下的都是全副武装的士兵，也没有人受比割伤、划伤、擦伤、烧伤和断胳膊断腿更重的伤了。

　　“长官，那钱德勒号……”一名士兵问道，而雷诺只是摇了摇头。

　　“我们还得去另外两个逃生舱，”他说，“不管他们是谁，我都得去救他们。”他把卡维兹叫到身边。这个发现了返程隧道的士兵很聪明、很有经验、也很可靠。“卡维兹、艾伯娜西，你们俩留在这，处理伤员，并清点一下我们可以用的一切物资。”“你，你，你，你，还有你，跟我走。”他随机挑选了五名伞骑兵，然后就掉头带着五名士兵朝着第二个坠机点跑去，耳边同时还响起了卡维兹和艾伯娜西组织士兵和清理穿梭机的声音。要想在查尔度夜，这个地方比其他任何地方都合适。

　　第二架飞船也是架穿梭机，不过伤势可就严重得多。星灵的光柱直接从飞船中间平切过去，在飞船进入大气层前就把它划成两块。发出信号的是前半部分，而后半部分则在半个峡谷之外一座山岭上。根据驾驶员的说法，整架穿梭机几乎是满载着四十个人起飞的，但是前半部分包括驾驶员在内仅有四个士兵生还，尾部则无一人幸存，尸体散落在两个残骸之间的大片土地上。将飞船里所有的补给品和能用的东西搜刮一空之后雷诺要求四个士兵同他一起把所有能找到的尸体放回了飞船的前半残骸。生还的四人中有一人腿部受伤，于是雷诺命她同另外人一起留守原地，随后率领从穿梭机里救出的三名士兵向第三个，也是最后一个坠机点挺进。他也想带上所有人一起走，但是要知道一旦有人是伤着的，那时间就是生命。

　　最后这个是个逃生舱，仅够容纳六人。它可能成功躲开了星灵的光柱，也可能是太小了星灵没注意到它。不幸的是它是由不会驾驶它的人驾驶的，从岩石上的划痕和逃生舱腹部的凹痕来看，它整个从附近的岩壁上滚了下来。要不是它最后滚进了一个火山口，雷诺估计它可能还要滑得更远。

　　有那么一会雷诺有点犹豫。所有他的船都没有装备逃生舱，也就是说这个逃生舱是从杜克的船上逃出的，要么是货柜船要么是科学船。也就意味着舱里的人肯定是为帝国服务的，而且很可能一见面就给他一枪。雷诺本想就这么走开，但是他又于心不忍。查尔绝非善地，至少已经不是以前那个查尔，他不能让那些幸存者就这么自生自灭。该死，这可能是让杜克加入自己的一个机会。嗯，可能吧。不过为防万一，他还是松了松枪套里的手枪。

　　“有人吗？”雷诺一边接近逃生舱一边叫道。舱门半开着，不过倒不像是有意为之，而是这次撞击着陆的后果。“里面有人吗？”

　　在侧耳倾听之后，他觉得里面似乎有微弱的回应传来。

　　“我们来救你们了，”以防里面的人直接开火，雷诺先喊了一声。舱门毁坏得极其彻底以至于雷诺四人使尽浑身解数才把它弄到可以进人的程度，最后在众人的努力之下门终于屈服了，雷诺也得以挤了进去。

　　逃生舱里面一片狼藉，曾今被牢牢拴在墙上或是绑在网兜里的补给品在落地时的冲击力作用下散落得遍地都是。六个座椅呈环绕状嵌在舱壁上，三个座椅上有人坐着——两男一女。一根急救撬棍正中一名男子的头部，直接令他丧命，而那名女人的头以一个可怕的角度拧着，当雷诺绕过去时发现她的眼睛已经耷拉了下来。另外的一人则是被支撑架穿透了腹部，不过还算清醒。当雷诺的影子出现的时候他转向了雷诺病发出痛苦的呻吟。

　　“救……命……”他喘着粗气，于此同时雷诺则在逃生舱里拼命寻找急救箱。啊，在那！雷诺抄起急救箱赶到伤员身边然后在箱子里翻检起药品。

　　“我只能做我能做的，”雷诺坦率地说道，从伤员身体下的大滩大滩血迹可以看出他受的是致命伤，但雷诺不打算告诉他。他翻出止痛剂，注射进伤员的身体，以缓解疼痛的感觉。这些人雷诺一个也不认识，而且很明显他们都是平民。“你们是哪条船上的？”雷诺问道。

　　“亚美利哥号，”那人无力地说道，随着麻醉剂的发作他的眼睛也渐渐失神，声音也含糊不清，“当那些怪物出现……的时候，我们逃了出去。必须……发出警报。”

　　“怪物？你指的是什么？”雷诺扶着他靠着墙边，脉搏突突地跳着。他已经猜到了答案，但是必须要确认。他记得，亚美利哥号是杜克的科学船，他还听到了它的求救信号。

　　“不是……虫子，”那人解释道，摇了摇头，做了个否定的手势，“不是……我见过的……任何东西。像是个……女人，和虫子一伙的。”果然是凯瑞甘！雷诺竭尽全力让自己的声音听起来平稳一些，他知道不能过多地刺激这个人，这样才能套出更多的消息。

　　“这个虫女，她在亚美利哥号上？”那人微微地点了点头，止痛剂的药力让他根本做不出什么大动作。“她上船干了些什么？”雷诺发现关于凯瑞甘的梦境，或者说，幻觉全都是真的。也就是说，那个奇怪的门，那个发生战斗的底层船舱，都是确实存在的。

　　“找……那些文件，”那人回道，“旧……日志。”

　　“旧日志？”雷诺眉头紧锁，“她去那找以前的航行日志？”

　　但是那人摇了摇头，“不是，不是那些。”他冷笑了一声，“管他呢，反正……已经不是……秘密了。”他深深地吸了口气，准备吐露这个秘密。雷诺则狠下心来无视伤员嘴角渗出的血泡和血泡破碎时的声音，他知道他问的问题对于救命而言毫无意义，但是反正这个人也没救了，而且他必须知道凯瑞甘这次攻击的目的。

　　“亚美利哥……是艘科学船，”伤员说道，“每艘科学船……在底层都有个机密室。文件……幽灵计划的。”

　　雷诺感觉到他握紧的手开始发冷，“亚美利哥号也参与了幽灵计划？”

　　还是摇了摇头，那人说，“没，只是……储存……文件，每个科学船……都有的，以备幽灵……特工需要帮助或……修复。”雷诺注意到他说的是“修复”一词，他也知道这不是指急救，因为他还记得过去凯瑞甘讲述她当幽灵时的训练过程和那些被强加于身上的东西时脸上的那种凄凉。

　　“她要那些文件，”雷诺咕哝了一声，“这是她的目的。”

　　“她……要了……也没用，”那人奋力说，嘴角泛起的粉色的血泡，眼光也黯淡了下去，“都……加密了。”他边咳边睁大眼睛，倒抽一口气，吐出了最后那句话，一同吐出的还有一口鲜血。然后随着喉咙里的一声闷响，他两腿一伸，歪倒了下去。

　　雷诺愣愣地爬出逃生舱，命令士兵将这个小舱里能用的东西都收集起来，然后站在一边出神地盯着忙碌的士兵，脑子里则在回忆和消化刚才听到的事实。

　　凯瑞甘过去是效力于联邦的幽灵特工，就是那种拥有心灵感应能力的刺客。她和其他幽灵一样都曾被联邦政府通过物理手段和化学药剂严密控制，以限制他们的能力。她也曾告诉过雷诺是孟斯克把她救了出来，还解除了很多身上的药剂的限制，于是她就开始为孟斯克效力了。

　　不过在那时还有些药剂的限制没有被解除，尽管雷诺也目睹过凯瑞甘的能力，不过她的潜力显然是没有全部发挥出来。

　　而那些文件里写有解除最后那些限制的关键。因为一旦对某个幽灵的控制出现弱化，研究人员能够根据文件里的步骤重新恢复对该幽灵的控制。这也意味着借由逆向操作，所有加在幽灵身上的限制及控制都可以被解除。

　　现在凯瑞甘手持那些文件了，这也是她带队直冲亚美利哥号的原因——作为一个前幽灵，她当然知道亚美利哥号上会有些什么。并且她利用她的记忆、她的技巧打通了那条通往机密室的路。雷诺十分肯定凯瑞跟能破解那些文件，也许直接从哪个没成功逃脱的科学家脑子里直接读出密码就行了。然后她就能摆脱所有的控制手段，抛弃所有的约束，彻底释放她的能力。

　　想到这些雷诺不禁打了个冷战，到底异虫给所有人会带来什么？

第八章

　　等到RAYNOR离开救生仓和里面的三具尸体，从第二艘飞船救起其他幸存者并把他们带回第一艘飞船处时，Cavez和Abernathy已经按照命令做好了一切并且建立了一个营地。他们立起了几个巨大的帐篷以供大多数人居住，两侧的小帐篷则用来搬运物资。工作区和食堂利用了飞船的能量电池设立在其内部。

　　“我们总共有42人，长官”。Cavez报告时Raynor正坐在飞船剩下的那只翅膀上，把它当成临时的凳子。“我们的补给能维持两周，如果我们能再找到什么就能坚持更长时间”。他明智的没有提到在Char上除了Zerg什么活物都没有，Raynor也不认为他们会饿到试图去吃那些恶心的异型。“武器很充足”Cavez继续说道：“弹药也足够”。他咧嘴笑着说：“我们甚至搞到了能量装甲，总共有24套。有一些在飞船落地的时候受损了，但我们估计能把他们修好，或者把他们分解利用。”

　　Abernathy接着补充：“我们现在的位置不错”，他确认道：“虽然没有大气层外的通讯的能力。我们已经修复了飞船上的通讯系统，所以我们可以继续保持联系，但他没有足够的能量到达大气层外”。她皱起眉头：“飞船具有一个能量光塔，我已经启动了它，它保存完整并可以持续使用3年时间。”没人想被困在这里那么长时间，虽然Raynor并不担心这个。该死，在饥饿和Zerg之间他能决定的可能也就是死的痛快点或者慢慢等死。当然，可能有人能收到他们的求救信号并来救他们。即使是他们在银河的边缘，而唯一知道他们在这的人不是已经死了就是恨透了他们的。

　　尽管如此，奇迹会发生的。

　　“干得好，”Raynor告诉两名伞兵。“派一些人去站岗，让剩下的人睡觉。我们在明早讨论该怎么办”。他躺倒在机翼上在几秒内睡着了。

　　第二天早上他们的情况并没有好多少。每个人都需要睡觉-他们昨天经历了痛苦的一天，不管是在地面上的还是在空间里的-现在看起来所有人都好多了。但最近发生的事太过灾难性又太突然了，昨天就像是做了一场超现实的梦。现在，在Char可怜兮兮的阳光和一层覆盖住他们帐篷的灰尘中一觉醒来（有人在Raynor睡觉的地方支了顶帐篷，他非常感激他-在睡觉的时候被噎死可不是那么好看。），发现这是不可否认的现实。他们确实已经站在这了。

　　“我们可以修好飞船”，其中一个伞兵，Deslan建议到。所有人都聚集在Abernathy在飞船不远处建立的篝火旁，用飞船挡住火焰。尽管有持续的火山活动，Char还是很冷，虽然Raynor知道不久之后会变暖和那时太阳光和持续的火山喷发与风暴将混合起来烘烤地面。

　　“用什么？”Raynor问道，放下他的杯子并作了一个鬼脸。速溶咖啡发挥了它的功效，把足够的咖啡因灌进喉咙能让你保持清醒和警惕好几个小时就算是你一直患有嗜睡症也不例外，但是它尝起来像发霉的纸板扎成的液体并且像在油和太阳中间那么热。他又喝了一口。“我们没有足够的多余零件”，他指出：“没错，我们可以从其他飞船和救生仓上拆下一点，但我们需要的是一个完整的引擎。他们上面都没有这个。”

　　“就算我们有了部件”，Abernathy同意道：“我们也需要工具和工厂来进行修理，这就意味着一个完整的支船架，一个起重机，一些焊接机，还有其他一些我们没有的东西。”

　　“就算我们使飞船重新工作了？”Raynor问大家：“它只能进行短距离的跳跃，你们知道，最近的可居住的行星是-”他皱起眉毛，试图回忆起之前他在海图上看到的。

　　“三天的航程”。没人补充。他萎缩起来，当几个其他伞兵瞥向他的时候他有点局促不安。“我知道我们在哪”，他承认道。

　　“Protoss还在轨道上”，一个叫McMurty的人指出。“我们可以修好我们的通讯系统接触他们，向他们求援。”

　　Raynor笑了“然后你认为他们会说”没问题，需要搭便车么？“该死的当然不会。Protoss只对一件事感兴趣就是杀死Zerg。他们不是忽视我们就是杀光我们以防我们被感染。”他并不打算麻烦去解释Protoss就是摧毁他们飞船的人。从Chandler和Graceful Wing飞船上下来的士兵，从第二只飞船上幸存的人对昨天的灾难一无所知。Raynor考虑过告诉他们但这么干没有任何好处。他们不需要知道人类显然有第二个敌人需要去操心，看起来最接近盟友的绝对的外星人。或许这一切都是误会，等到不久之后真相大白时候，告诉其他人之前发生了什么只会把事情搞复杂。但是如果Protoss对他们所采取的敌对行动是故意的，这将使事情更加复杂，告诉那些士兵谁刚刚摧毁了他们的家杀死了他们的朋友只会把事情弄得更糟。

　　“我们先从附近开始，”他宣布道，他放下杯子站起来，伸展了一下身体。“网格状探索周边，网点间相距10米。按小队行动，小心行进，就像我们昨天做的一样，寻找足迹，隧道，河流任何东西。我们主要注意两件事，危险的和有用的东西。”他对Cavez和Abernathy做了个手势：“你们两个现在是我的副官了。”两个人点了点头，Cavez无意识的挺起了胸，他对自己的晋升很高兴。“你们俩每人带领这帮猪头里的一半人，”他边扒拉着其他士兵边说，赢得了一点笑声。“如果你需要的话自己指派中士，这是你的权力。当我们探索开始时，设置一只分队保卫这里。”他想了想，“也派一些人到其他飞船那里去，我们已经拿走了我们需要的但有可能有遗漏。”

　　“是，长官！”他们两个同时敬礼道，Raynor点点头走开了，在他们挑选他们的队伍时，他靠在飞船的前端上-过去的教训告诉他，不要在他的下属跟他的部下谈话时在他们后面监督他们。他需要这些伞兵就算他不在也能接受Cavez和Abernathy的命令，让他们意识到她信任这两个人能做好他们的工作。这意味着不去干涉他们的做法。

　　选择他们俩是一个正确的选择，不到一个小时大家就已经被分配，武装，并且出发了。Cavez让Non穿着能量盔甲让他和其他5个人来守卫营地-他谨慎的选择了5个最有经验的伞兵，Raynor对合理的给与他们不准他们四处移动的要求十分赞赏。他和Abernathy接着把网格分成两份，Cavez负责一边Abernathy负责另外一边。他们给每个班负责一块区域，在这些区域中由中士来进行细致的分派。他们都被严格的组织起来。Raynor滑过裂缝，无论如何-他没有在任何一组里，所以他没有被指派任何的组员。可能是他的副官以为他会呆在用飞船那，但是他跟本闲不住。他开始漫无目的的瞎走，一点都没关心他在往哪去。有时他会对路过的伞兵点点头，就像他在单独视察他们的工作，但实际上，他只是不想让自己在他们所处的困境上想太多。

　　他茫然地走着，几乎没有留意他在往哪去或者周围有什么，Raynor放开自己的思想。，没什么可惊奇的，他想到了Kerrigan。不是什么其他的梦，无论如何，他想到了他们第一次相遇的时候。

　　那发生在Antiga星球上。他和他的人遵从Mengsk的命令带领A中队去保卫殖民地的主要道路。Mike Liberty那时还跟他们在一起帮忙煽动叛乱，他们正在磋商时她出现了。

　　她看起来就像是突然冒出来的-他们之前降落在一个只有石头和强风的低矮高地上。前一秒这还只有他们两个，下一秒一个女人已经站在他们旁边了。而且这是怎么样一个女人啊！

　　在那时，Kerrigan还穿着她的幽灵盔甲，闪闪发光的，合身的制服衬托出她曲线。她红色的长发就像一团火焰在空中飞舞。Raynor感觉他自己就像是谚语中的飞蛾那样扑进了那团火焰中。

　　她的五官并不那么精致-他们太有力了。她的绿眼睛锐利而清晰，她的嘴又宽又厚，她鼻子也很长。她的颊骨和下巴显示出她的强壮，高傲与不屈。但是，非常令人吃惊的，这些五官拼合起来就形成了一张完美的面容—骄傲，强壮，充满魅力。他不由自主地想象亲吻那对嘴唇时的可能感觉，以及那间盔甲下的身体是什么样的。

　　她听到他在想什么了。那时她刚刚开始她的侦察报告，她张大眼睛快速的后退了几步“你这猪！”她冲他吼道。

　　“什么？”他抗议道，虽然他知道她发火的原因，他感觉到自己的脸变红了。他以为她只是感觉到了他的凝视。

　　“我还没对你说一个字阿！”他为自己辩解。

　　她对他露出冷笑。“你是没说，但你正在想。”她咬着牙说，这时他的困惑变成了愤怒。她是一个心灵感应者！他对Mike怒目而视，而后者看起来很内疚，这使他确信了他的判断。这家伙已经知道了但却没告诉我！虽然告诉他也不会造成什么改变-他还是会对Kerrigan起同样的反应。但是他或许就能用某种方法掩饰一下如果他知道她能读取他的思考。

　　这就是他们旅途的开始。他一直被她所吸引，明明白白的，但是她是一名心灵感应者，这冻结了他的大部分欲望。他已经看到过许多事，听到过许多传说，心灵感应者的思想显然能探知你最深的记忆，Johuuy和Liddy就是那些天才对一般人造成伤害的的活生生的例子。结果他与Kerrigan相处了的一段时间，惊奇地发现Mike总是支持她而去改变主意。他喜欢这个苗条的报告者和相信自己的直觉，Mike高度重视她的判断而这经常成为他改变想法的开端。加上他注意Kerrigan的越多她给他的印象也就越深，不管是身体上的还是精神上的。她是一个坚持不懈的人，但她也同时过度自信，不受约束，过度正直。就像他自己那样。在那位恐怖分子头子下达从Nroad2上救援Duke将军的命令得时候，他非常的愉快地听到她直率的说Mengsk他疯了。现在看看那导致了什么。即管如此，他-（这段终于翻完了…Raynor足足回忆了他女朋友两面纸…。既无聊又难翻…中间好多地方怎么也看不懂只能凑或着理解意思了…。接下来T大终于要出场啦）

　　Raynor回忆被一大片阴影打断了。这片影子正在穿过他，长到不仅盖住了他自己的影子也盖住了他周边的区域，他还听到了前所未闻的，类似音乐的轰鸣声在天空回响。没有浪费时间去看发生了什么，他跳向一边，在接触到地面的瞬间滚动起来，并把一只手伸向他的手枪。

　　最终他停下来，撞上并依靠在一个可能是蒸汽喷口的石脊上，拔出他的枪，拍掉他滚动时身上沾的灰（还有工夫弄衣服………）探出半个脸看向影子的来源。

　　他看到的东西让他不由得摒住了呼吸。

　　他曾经见过Protoss的舰船，在Mar Sara和Tarsonis上。但从没有亲眼，而且以靠的这么近几乎能碰到的距离观察它。

　　他的第一反应是它更像一座艺术品而不是战舰，一座由黄金色螺旋，线圈，尖端组成的美丽雕塑。接下来他想到有着优雅翅膀的飞蛾与蝴蝶，盘旋了一阵，短粗的身体-但是他迅速纠正了这个思考，因为它比起一只蝴蝶更像一只黄蜂，它的翅膀更有棱角，它的身体层次分明呈流线型。它浑然一体，优雅，快速。他所听到的轰鸣声肯定就是它的引擎了，在他这么想的时候飞船静静的着陆了，闪电沿着它的翅膀和身体闪耀。接着电光变弱了，引擎慢慢减弱下去。这艘船停靠下来。

　　Raynor转过身来，刚刚在石脊上撞伤的背部使他萎缩了一下，他慢慢站起来，手枪仍然在他手中。当他再看时，飞船开始连续展开，一个椭圆形的洞出现在其一侧，从中伸出了一些平滑斜面直到地面上。一个身影从洞口的虹膜中出现，其轮廓从飞船中散发着光芒。接着这个身影走下了楼梯，后面还跟着其他的。

　　Protoss登陆了。

　　最初登陆得一些人很明显是战士，他们穿着战斗装甲，Raynor猜到，但是比起他自己的装甲制式的喷涂，他们的更像是自然的勾勒。Protoss非常高，几乎有7英尺。相比起那些该死的虫子，他们被光滑的嵌段外壳所保护，这些外壳完美的互相叠合着，使其滑动起来非常容易，使得其非常灵活和既有保护性。一部分盔甲在胸口展开，高高跃过肩膀两侧，在背后落下，就像是翅膀。一丝亮光深埋在他们胸口中心，就在那些翅膀的下面，Raynor拿不准这些光有什么功能或者仅仅是装饰或者两者都有。Protoss没有戴头盔，他们的装甲背后有一个高领子保护着脖子的两侧和背面，能让喉咙自由的移动，它们长长的，消瘦的头部上有很多保护金属，有着粗糙的灰色皮肤的没有什么特色的脸上有一对发光的黄色眼球。他们没有嘴也没有鼻子，Raynor无聊的琢磨着它们怎么呼吸怎么讲话。他没有看到任何必步枪或者火炮，但是每个战士的前臂被厚厚的腕甲隐藏着，装甲的光芒从前臂中发出而不是从手中。每个腕甲的后面都有一个凸起带着发光圆顶的部件，他猜测那是一个完整的发射器。

　　这些战士在楼梯周围呈半圆形散开，最后一个人出现在出口并开始降下。如果其他人是士兵，那么他肯定是他们的指挥官。比起其他人，他的盔甲更简单精致，腕甲小而优雅，在上面也没有武器似的凸起，肩衬更宽，胸甲被一个重型护肩，一个中心带有发亮宝石的十字型厚带子，一个嵌合的宽带子所取代。这些盔甲如白金般闪耀，并发出金色的光芒。他穿着一件开敞式的长袍，腰上系着充满符号的腰带。它们都由某种带着暗蓝色微光的丝绸制成，但是就像是能感光一样，它们在蓝色，金色，绿色间不断的变幻。指挥官的眼睛是蓝色的，就像是一团烈火一样的鲜明蓝色，Raynor发现自己无法把眼睛从他身上挪开。

　　就在神组首领落到地面，踩进厚厚的灰尘中时，Raynor突然灵光一闪，他认出了他。他见过这名神族人一次，在Hyperion的银幕上。那时他们在Antiga星球上，Protoss在净化星球以前告知了他们的存在。这个人是执政官Tassadar，高阶圣堂武士，Protoss的最高指挥官之一。

　　知道了他的名字也想起了他们之前见过，尽管他们保持了一定距离，但这还是让Raynor怒不可赦。这个就在一天前刚刚摧毁了他的舰队，杀死了他的士兵的外星人，几个月线他还叫他为盟友！Raynor的怒火在他胸中燃烧，他恨不得冲上去痛打Protoss执行官一顿。但还好，他的双脚拒绝合作。

　　他之前见过这名Protoss领袖，这没错。他也侦查过Protoss人，他们的战士，他们管他叫zeatol—在Tarsonis的时候。但只是在很远的一段距离上，或者在激战中。那时他很忙，心烦意乱，没法认真地确认他们的存在。现在不存在那些问题了，他目不转睛的看着面前那些高高的，骄傲的，优雅的外星人，Raynor意识到了一些他之前没有意识到的感觉。

　　敬畏。

　　Zerg恐怖，令人毛骨悚然，能把一个最勇敢的人吓得屁滚尿流。但是他们不同。他们是超乎之上的什么东西，他并不怕Protoss，或许至少不是完全害怕。他恐惧，仅仅是因为他们比他人多。过去的苦难使Raynor学会了自信，相信自己和自己的能力能让他活下去。他知道自己是一个合格的战士，一个优秀的追踪者，一个不错的指挥官。他知道他在一场势均力敌的战斗中他能带领大家取得胜利。但是面对这些外星人，他就像一个抓着妈妈裙子的孩子。第一次他从他的骨子里感觉到了，这些外星人来自不同星球，不同的种族，有着不同的文化。比起他来他们十分古老。人类在Protoss面前就像一帮没什么希望的孩子。

　　他站在那，不知是该逃走还是该躲起来，Raynor看到执行官的头转了过来，那双蓝色的眼睛正在寻找着什么。紧接着那双眼睛盯住了他，他现在知道飞蛾被钉子钉成标本是什么感觉了。Taeeadar的目光穿透了他，把他钉在地上，剥离着他的灵魂。

　　“过来。”

　　这是执行官说的，但是这几个字无视了他们中的这段距离在他脑中回响。他们不说话，他突然意识到。从不说出来。Protoss用思考取代语言，现在他们的指挥官刚刚在对我说话。他的声音深沉，柔和，在Raynor心中翻腾。如果说Zerg的声音就像金属的摩擦声，或是虫子狂怒的嗡嗡声，那么Protoss的声音就像是大海的波浪或是雷电的轰鸣。

　　Raynor感觉到他的右腿落到了地面上，他的身体也跟上来完成了迈步。左腿也跟上了。他没法控制他的四肢，就像一个被捕获了灵魂的梦游的人一样服从了Protoss的命令。Protoss战士无声的退到两边，他继续前进直到面对执行官，凝视着他。在他们后面，飞船的出口关闭了，滑梯也收了回去，整个飞船封闭起来，但Raynor不在乎那些。他的注意力集中在他面前这个高高的，迷人的身影上。

　　那双蓝色的眼睛从开始就一直凝视着他，他能感觉到他炙热的视线，现在执行官偏偏了他的头，以便更好的观察这名陌生的客人。“James Raynor，”Protoss认出了他。“你是之前与我们交战的Arctures Mengsk的盟友。”Tassadar眨了眨眼睛。“你现在不跟他一起了？”

　　Raynor想起来了，他离开Mengsk的原因之一。在Tarsonis上，Protoss空降了一批就像现在这些这样的战士，以白刃战消灭Zerg。在他们与人类武装的协作之下，他们取得了胜利。Zerg被赶跑了。

　　但这不是Mengsk想要的。他希望联邦的首都被攻陷以便他建立一个自己的人类帝国代替它。Protoss正在妨碍他的计划，阻止了他的复仇和野心。这是他不能忍受的。

　　所以他命令他的人去攻击Protoss。

　　Raynor拒绝了，Protoss是他们对抗Zerg的盟友！Raynor没有去攻击他们，特别是Protoss从没有直接攻击过他们。他们只有在Zerg感染了Terran人之后才会去攻击他们。

　　“是的。”Raynor回答道，他费力的挤出这个字。执行官微微舒展了他了眉头，就在这时Raynor发现他可以再次活动了。他说起话来不像刚才那么费力了。“我再也不会跟他在一起了，”Raynor确认说，“我在Tarsonis战役他把目标转向你之后就离开了他。那样做是不对的。”

　　执行官点了点头，他又长又尖的下巴上浮现了一种类似微笑的表情，对Raynor来说这就是救赎，他感觉到肩膀卸下了重担。他之前没有意识到在背叛的这几个月里他的感觉有多糟，基于罪恶感让他无论如何想做点什么来了结这事。

　　“你感觉到愤怒，失落，”Protoss领袖评论道，这句话让Raynor突然间找回了刚才的愤怒。他的怒火直对着Tassadar。就在昨天，这帮Protoss摧毁的了他的舰队！他没法说出这些谴责，但显然这已经不重要了。执行官不知怎么的听到了那些话，他有点不安的把脸转了过去。

　　“轨道上的Terran舰队是属于你的？”Raynor愤怒的点了点头，Tassadar也点了点头，并没有继续看着他的眼睛。“是的，他们是我亲手击落的。”他承认到。

　　Raynor从外星人的声音里没听出一点内疚的感觉。“那些人是我的人！”他本想喊出来，但实际上他的声音就像耳语。“你杀了他们。”

　　“他们的死亡是Zerg导致的，”Tassadar反击道，他的视线从新转回到Raynor身上。“你的船已经被虫群所感染。我们被迫采取行动。”他的精神声音平静，耐心，就像在安抚一个激动的孩子。Raynor变得更加愤怒，但却反驳不了他。就这点来说，他说得没错。

　　“Zerg确实侵入了，”他承认。“但我的人正在与它们战斗！我们还可以救他们！比起你把它们全杀了，把我们丢在这来说。”

　　Tassadar凝视着他，那对蓝色眼睛里没有愤怒，只有理解，从他眼睛的光芒中Raynor感觉到了深深的同情。他知道执行官理解他的挫败感，他的悲痛，他很同情他，他的同情缓解了他的伤痛。“那并不是我们的责任，”执行官平静的对Raynor说道，“你丢掉了你的飞船。Zerg开走了他们。我们发现那些飞船上没有几个活人了。”他眯起眼睛，虽然没有在看着Raynor。“一个干脆的死亡，一个战士的死亡比成为Zerg的一员要好多了。”

　　Raynor战栗起来，他想起了Kerrigan。他们能对他剩下的人再做一次吗？是的，这就是虫族的做法—他们吸收敌人的尸体进他们的虫群。由此看来，Protoss说不定避免了他的人经受比死亡更糟的待遇。

　　Tassadar再次点了点头。“这不是我们的责任。”紧接着，他认为会谈已经结束并转向他的战士们，他们在会谈的时候一直等在旁边。“搜索刀锋女王，”他命令他们。

　　“你知道Kerrigan？”Raynor吃惊的问。

　　“她的尖叫在空间中回响，”执行官回答道，“提醒着我们一个新的恐怖生物在宇宙中诞生。”Raynor想起那些恐怖的暗示，或许对于外星人来说他们要恐怖的多。“她的精神愈渐强大，她的出现所造成的危险不能被忽略。”他再次瞥了一眼Raynor。“我必须确认她的强大程度。”他的声音不知为何开始变得冷酷，他声音中的威胁变得越来越重。“只要我还在，她就不能威胁我的人民。”

　　他边说边转过去面对他的战士们。“把她找出来，”他重复道“还有她的军队。无论如何不要和她正面冲突。只是找到她并向我报告她的位置。”Raynor很惊讶他能“听到”，并大部分理解Tassader的命令，下一秒他反应过来执行官是故意让他听见的。事实上，Protoss领袖明显还干了点什么，Raynor发现他可以听懂Protoss的语言尽管他从没学过。这时候，无论如何，他的思想也已经在什么上面了。

　　“你不是来跟她交战的？”他需要知道，他的惊奇盖过了他的犹豫，以至于他唐突的问了Tassadar这么一句。

　　“你只是说他是一个威胁，一个恐怖的东西。”他回想起他看到的她的转变和从死去的科学家那获取的信息，他必须承认。

　　“她是一个重大的威胁，”Tassadar表明。“我必须仔细的观察她，我就有可能了解她的能力。”

　　“我可以告诉你她的能力，”Raynor嘀咕道。“她是地狱的使者。”

第九章

　　Protoss 士兵散开了，每个人朝着不同的方向走远。但Tassadar 仍等在船边，如雕像般伫立。虽然Raynor 就站在外星人面前，执行长却并没有展现出看到他的迹象。

　　Raynor 的一部分希望Protoss 被Kerrigan 和她的虫群赶回老家。这就是他们要的，这群自负的混蛋。但那只是一小部分，一小块嫉妒和非理智的部分，他希望把它赶走。剩下的部分则知道如果Tassadar 找到Kerrigan，一次性并且永久地杀了她，会是他最愿意看到的情况。

　　同时，他还有一个焦点。Protoss 在Char 上搜索，他的自己人也是。他不想让他们对Protoss 产生误解，尤其当Protoss 还可能是他们的盟友。Tassadar 的解释对他有些说服力，他现在不再为执行长摧毁了他的飞船而愤怒。当然，他仍然为失去它们和自己的手下而心烦意乱，但现在他对于Zerg 做出了这样激烈的反应感到恼火。如果他是那些Protoss ，他也会毫不犹豫的毁掉那些船，尤其是执行长已经告诉了他没有多少人生还。这些人没有理由对他说谎。

　　Raynor 离开了Protoss 飞船，抗拒着往回瞟一眼以确认那位圣堂武士雕像没有跟着他的冲动。他走到了一个小山丘顶上。他没意识到自己已经走了这么远了，在这里他可以看到第二艘穿梭机，提示了他营地的位置。他很快拿起通讯器，在Cavez 和Abernathy 选定的多用途频率上开始广播。

　　“所有单位注意，”他说道，“所有单位注意，我是Raynor。Protoss 已在Char 上登陆。重复一遍，Protoss 已在Char 上登陆。他们在徒步搜索，但他们的目标是Zerg。不要向他们开火，重复一遍，不要开火！”

　　通讯器几乎立刻就蜂鸣起来，有讯号输入。“我是Ling，”Cavez 手下的一个中士报告，“我们才看到了一个，距离约半英里。看上去就和蚂蚁一样。他看到了我们，但没有停留。”

　　“好的，”Raynor 回答，“让他们走，他们就会走的。”

　　其他几个队员也报告了Protoss 的出现，但Protoss 未攻击他们。双方相遇了，但没有任何事情发生。在第二艘穿梭机上的McMurty 报告说他和一个Protoss 战士打了照面，吓得心脏快跳出来了，但他们只是互相凝视着对方。一分钟后那个战士点了点头，走开了。“尿都差点吓出来了，”他加了一句，嘲笑着自己的恐惧，“不过那家伙有够粗心的！”

　　Raynor 想了想接下来该做什么。他的人状况良好，侦察仍在继续。已经有一个小队报告发现一条小溪，另一个则发现了一个污水池，不过煮沸后可以饮用，或者也可以用穿梭机上的消毒药。还有一个小队报告说在一个陨石坑周围发现了一些大而平的蘑菇。其他的报告也大抵如此，无法保证可食用，但这是他们首先找到的植物，值得一试。Deslan 说他看到了小型的啮齿动物样的东西，当他接近它们时它们冲进了洞里。他没抓得住它们，但显然这里有些小型动物，而他们可以打猎。

　　但没人发现Zerg。这些怪兽消失了？Raynor 很怀疑这一点。它们可以不用飞船就到达外层空间，但Raynor 想这应该要耗掉它们很多能量。这样的话它们不应该很容易隐藏起来。Protoss 也有这个缺点，但Tassadar 仍然像颗卵石一样站在那里。不，Zerg 肯定在这里的什么地方。最有可能的是地下。接着Raynor 想到了一种测试的方法。瞥了没有动作的圣堂武士一眼之后，他坐了下来，闭上了眼睛。

　　除了一片黑暗，没有任何东西。

　　睁开眼睛之后，他皱了皱眉。从他着陆开始他就一直努力要把这些景象赶走。现在当他需要它们的时候它们却消失了？出了什么事？他又试了试，紧紧闭上眼集中注意力想Kerrigan。

　　然后他看见了她。

　　不是现在这个Kerrigan，那个迷人又恐怖的刀锋女王。他面前这个Sarah Kerrigan 是他在Antiga Prime 和之后的几个星球上认识的那个Sarah Kerrigan，是他在那个重要任务时登陆Tarsonis之前还与其简短交谈过的那个Sarah Kerrigan。不折不扣地属于人类的Sarah Kerrigan。

　　她没穿护甲，这对她来说很少见。她穿着磨损的棉裤，短工作裙，高皮靴，和一件沾满灰尘的皮夹克。她的头发扎成一个松散的马尾，有几缕头发扫过她的脸颊。除了一把很撩人地别在大腿上的长刀，她没有任何武装。

　　她在笑。

　　也不是她平常的笑容，诉说着痛苦和强烈的自制。不，这样的笑容他只看过几次，当他或者Mike试图逗她笑的时候。这是诚实的笑容，代表真正的快乐，在她的眼角牵动一丝皱纹，在脸颊上荡出一个小酒窝。

　　她很高兴。

　　Raynor 强迫自己睁开眼睛，试图驱散那画面。他向前倾，手与腿相交叉，深呼吸了一下，模糊地感谢呼吸器让他的肺不用充满灰尘。他试着不要吞下空气，知道这只会使他感觉更坏，但他需要慢下来他狂跳的心。那是什么？不是他想要的往Kerrigan 脑海里偷看一眼，也不是记忆——他从没看见过她穿这些衣服。只是一个简单的梦吗？这确实是他想要看到的Kerrigan，没有她固执的自我防卫。但他并没有真正睡着，而且那景象太真实了，不可能只是个白日梦。

　　抬起头，往山下望去，他瞥见Protoss 飞船——然后一跃而起，挥手驱赶随之而来的灰尘。Tassadar 走了！环绕四周，Raynor 看见了执行长在另一座小山的山顶上漫步，方向正好和他相反。没有多想，他立刻去追Tassadar。

　　Tassadar 步伐不小，但此刻他似乎并不匆忙，Raynor 快速地缩短了他们之间的距离。在20英尺外Raynor 慢了下来，然后追上了他。他意识到他们肯定看到Kerrigan 了。Tassadar 告诉过他的战士要报告她的位置。他现在一定就是去找她去了。

　　Raynor 知道他必须跟着。不是为了提供支援——他怀疑就连那些Protoss 小兵都比他更能打仗，而且他们拥有多年对抗Zerg 的经验。不，他只是去看的。他想看看这两个人，Kerrigan 和Tassadar，面对面的时候会发生什么。这也许会告诉他更多关于他们的事情，关于他们的力量和弱点。这场交锋他一定不想错过。

　　当他们走的时候，Tassadar 没有表现出任何发现Raynor 在他身后的迹象。Raynor 再一次思考了他们的处境和选择。Protoss 已经着陆，而且，就算不是友好，至少也不是敌对。这是个好信号——他在Char 上只有一个敌人，不是两个。而且执行长也并没有想要让Raynor 和他的手下陷入困境。那么Protoss 会真的考虑帮他们到达外层空间吗？在McMurty 提出这一点的时候他曾认为这很荒谬。但现在看来没那么不合理了——他知道既然他没有因为和他们说话而失去性命，那他就没什么好失去的了。

　　他想要说些什么，然后就停了。最好还是在即将来临的遭遇战之后再提出来，他这样决定。除此之外，Protoss 在见到Kerrigan 的那一刻很可能不会考虑帮他们的事情。他很好奇能否操纵他们的飞船。

　　即使Protoss 不会给他们搭个便车，情况也有所好转。他们有了水源，也许还有些食物，所以活下来并不像一开始那样令人恼火。也许Protoss 至少会给他们带个信，一个描述困境的消息。那谁来接收这个消息呢？他们来Char 之前留下来的人屈指可数。但他们应该还是乐意并且能够带一艘船来带上他们。或者最近的星球之一可以执行一个救援任务，他们只有50个人，单独一艘小小的飞船就能够装完。

　　他考虑过直接联系Mengsk 的想法。是的，皇帝把他称为罪犯，他会派几个人来逮捕他吗？Raynor 已经向Duke 提供了这个选择，而那个虐待狂只是笑了笑就走了。但Mengsk 会看到抓获和审判Raynor 的政治价值。这会使他看起来强大而有能力，并警告他的反对者。他甚至会命令Duke 回来，将军不会违抗直接命令的。这个想法逗乐了Raynor。的确，他会死，但Mengsk 也许会放过他手下的人，如果他们宣誓不再反对他。这确实有其意义。

　　他们走过了几座小山和几条峡谷。Raynor 感到腿有点痛，脚在鞋子里抽搐。他已经喝完了水壶里仅剩的一点点水，吃掉了腰包里仅有的配给口粮，现在他喉咙干燥，胃撕咬着他。但Tassadar 没有任何疲劳或不舒服的迹象，Raynor 只能继续走。

　　他们走了多远？Kerrigan 在哪里？

　　一个小时多了，Tassadar 突然停了，Raynor 在他身后绊了一跤，摔在地上，没有注意执行长是否丢下他走了。他必须休息了！

　　他们在一座小山脚上，这座山比前面的都要高和陡峭。Raynor 发现了问题所在。这个坡不仅陡峭还凹凸不平，有很多岩石，连稍小的平面都没有。在两边这座山蜿蜒开来，是比起小山包和突起而言更为规则的曲线。最后的线索是山脚的一小丛蘑菇，离Raynor 摔倒的地方不到5英尺。它们直径约1英尺，有宽大平坦的顶部和粗短的茎，褐色和灰色，还有白色的斑点，和到处都是的灰尘很相配。

　　不是小山。是个陨石坑，是到目前为止他所看到的最大的。从Tassadar 看它的上沿的样子来看，Kerrigan 就在里面。

　　开始有意思了，Raynor 在倒回去的时候这样想。Zerg 喜欢地下，火山能提供现成的由地表到地下洞穴的通道。他把头放在后面的坡上，闭上眼。一秒钟后——

　　他在火山里面，站在浅浅的碗状地板上，欣赏着它黑色的玻璃般的边缘。他剩余的虫群聚集在他周围，他的翼尖如预期的那样鼓动。

　　他又进入了Kerrigan 的头脑。和她一样，他感到突如其来的兴奋。

　　“你感觉到了吗，脑虫？”他听到Kerrigan 通过轻轻浮在她后面的领主问那个巨大的Zerg。“Protoss 在这里，在Char 上……”她暂停了，Raynor 感觉到一种奇怪的俯冲感觉，好像他狂奔过整个房间或被一阵狂风裹挟进去。他知道Kerrigan 用了她的心灵感应术，他在这种连接中已经感受过了。“他们来了有些时间了。”她宣布道，分析着精神状况，就像一条狗用鼻子分析空气以品尝气味，分辨它们所携带的讯息。“藏着。”她高兴地结束道。

　　“我们必须干掉他们，”脑虫建议道，虽然很胆怯。显然它已经从她和Zasz 的冲突中学到了一些东西。那是Kerrigan 和一个有名字的脑虫，主宰的助手的冲突，而它现在还没有名字，无足轻重。它必须小心，避免引起她的愤怒。“Protoss 是我们古老的敌人。”它指出。

　　“是的，是的，”Kerrigan 不耐烦地回答，她的双翼噼啪作响。“我们会毁掉他们的，不用怕，但首先我想要知道他们为何而来。”她笑道，“而这很容易解决，因为他们就在上面等着。”她跃进空中，跳上陨石坑的边缘，翅膀展开好像可以让她浮在空中。她在那里可以看到Proross 围绕着陨石坑，其中有一个闪着金光，表明他是个高阶圣堂武士。然后他看到她跳起来，轻巧地着陆，收起双翼，看起来就像一件带刺的斗篷。在执行长之后，斜坡更下方，她看到地上有一个人形的突起。没穿着Protoss 闪光的盔甲，只有一件磨损的皮夹克，和沙尘描绘出的疲惫。一个呼吸器罩在他脸上，但她仍然认出了他，想到有这样一个观众，她脸上浮现出一点笑意。

　　“Jim，”她轻柔地呼唤，Raynor 在他头脑的内外都听到了她的声音，“起床了。”

　　他睁开眼睛。

　　Kerrigan站在他面前，就像他在幻象中看到的那样。她的注意力集中在她面前庄重的Protoss 身上，但Raynor想他看到她快速地瞟了他一眼——还眨了眨眼。然后她又注意到Tassadar 了。

　　“Protoss指挥官，”她这样称呼他，声音环绕过整个陨石坑，回音震得Raynor 的牙齿生疼。“你们来此是愚蠢的行为，”她骄傲而笔直的站着，没注意到她的虫群仍在攀爬环形山的内墙，没上到顶部。她似乎也没有注意到其他的Protoss 战士从两边包抄过来，聚集在她和Tassadar 的后面。她只是展开双翼，像一件巨大的斗篷，然后抬起下巴。“我是Kerrigan，”她宣布道，“我——”

　　“我很清楚你是谁，Zerg 的女王。”Tassadar 回答道，打断了她，“因为我们以前曾经见过。”他优雅地深鞠一躬，直到上身几乎平行于地面，但双眼从没离开过她。“我是圣堂武士Tassadar。”他提醒她，谦虚地省略了自己的头衔。他的声音穿过他们，让Raynor 被一阵深深的，回响的暖流所包围。Kerrigan 轻笑，没有表露出任何迹象说明她接受他的介绍或者她发现了他的声音对Raynor的影响。“我仍记得你无私的战斗，为人类防御Zerg。”执行长继续说，“不幸的是，一位曾经如此荣耀，充满活力的人却屈服于主宰的阴谋。”对Raynor 而言，Tassadar似乎真的很失望，好像Kerrigan 辜负了他个人的期望，而这是一个巨大的损失。

　　Kerrigan 显然对这样的情感并不受用。“不要试图评判我，圣堂武士，”啪的一声，她的双翼向后展开又收回，尖刺都冲着他。“你会发现我的力量不是你可以对抗得了的。”她又笑了，是捕食者的没有笑意的笑。“事实上，”她轻柔地说，这些话扬起她前面的灰尘，好似有一阵风裹挟着。“我感到从我们上次见面以来，你那种自吹自擂的力量已经减弱了。”

　　Raynor 不清楚接下来发生了什么。他看见Kerrigan 向前跳，双翼和利爪展开，向Tassadar 猛击过去。但执行长闪身，堪堪躲过这次攻击。同时他的前臂现在被一团蓝色的柔光包围，把她的飞翼拨到一边，所以她根本擦都没有擦到他。

　　那就是Raynor 看到的，或者他认为自己看到的。因为他们两个都在边缘，看起来就像隔着一块厚玻璃。他们的身体在闪光，他的是蓝色，她的是黄绿色。他们移动时在身后拖下怪异的残影。

　　Raynor 眨了眨眼，又看了看。Tassadar 和Kerrigan 又像之前那样站着，他的一部分告诉他他们根本没有动过。但他也能确信他刚刚看到的那次攻击。

　　执行长微微点头，好像在赞同Kerrigan 的声明。又或者这是他对于那次攻击的回应。“也许吧，女王，”他吟唱道，他声音里有个什么，听起来像是幽默。“或者，”他继续道，“对于如此幼稚的考验我根本无需使出全力？”

　　说出这些话之后，Tassadar 做了一件Raynor 最不愿意看到的事——他跑了。执行长跳起来往旁边优雅地移动，用平滑的筋斗动作翻下山，在山脚外100英尺处站着。其他的Protoss 明显遵从了什么无声的命令，因为在这过程中他们也无声地爬下山，集合在圣堂武士周围。没说一个字，Tassadar 转过头带着他的狂徒全速绕过陨石坑，冲上了远处似乎更高的山。他们的动作如此之快，从他们消失开始，Raynor 几乎没有时间注意到他们已经分开了。

　　Kerrigan 看着他们远去，双翼愤怒地鼓动着。她的虫群终于到了山顶，围在她周围，但在愤怒的女王周围保持着礼貌的距离。就是他自己，Raynor，也情不自禁地崇拜着她。她太迷人了。

　　“愚蠢的圣堂武士，”Kerrigan 轻声说，她的话清晰地透过静止的空气传到Raynor 耳里，“准备好防御！我很快就来。”

　　“搜索那些卑贱的Protoss，”她指示虫群，“格杀勿论——但给我留下那个圣堂武士，那个所谓的执行长。现在去吧！”她的双翼闪着光，虫群则沿着Protoss 先前走的路径狂奔下山。只有一个领主留了下来，在她前面轻轻地浮着。Raynor意识到这个不是她的手下。

　　“Kerrigan，”领主说道，Raynor 想起了脑虫Zasz 的声音，“我感觉到这个圣堂武士有什么地方有些奇怪。也许你应该重新考虑你的攻击。”

　　她转向它，双翼向旁边刺去，然后向下切，把那个领主切开。“最后一次，Zasz，”那个将死的Zerg 落向她的脚，将脓水撒得到处都是的时候她轻轻地嘶叫，“你怀疑我的行动和权威，你是在拿你自己开玩笑。”

　　“你敢威胁一个脑虫？”Zasz 喘气说，虽然他的声音在他的使者死后低落下去。“你会把我们全部毁掉。”他警告道。然后领主抖了一下，不动了。从伤口流出的脓水现在慢下来成了小小的水流。

　　“我的毁灭，”Kerrigan 告诉那个完全失聪的Zerg，“不是你可以制造的，那超出你能力范围太多了。”她走过它，走下山。她走向Raynor 时瞥了他一眼，但这次她没有眨眼，他记忆中那活泼的绿色闪现在她眼中，包含着一些悲伤，让他停止了呼吸。很快她转开了眼睛，没有表现出任何看到他的迹象。

　　这绝对是个放松，他看着她走远的时候想道。他以前当然见过Kerrigan 发怒，那所展现出的如同飓风般的暴力、行事冲动和惊人的毁灭性总是让他印象深刻。现在她更恐怖了，他怀疑她的情绪也更不平静。成为Zerg 明显减低了她的自制力，却提升了她的力量，这是很危险的组合。他很高兴是Tassadar 而不是他要去承受她的愤怒。

　　他现在也理解了执行长的动作。Tassadar 很明显是个聪明的指挥官，他告诉过Raynor 他只是想自己观察她的能力以决定她是否是个威胁。执行长知道最佳方法是激怒她。但她的Zerg 比他的Protoss 多得多，这样的战斗只会让他被虫群淹没。所以他煽动她，惹怒她，然后逃掉。让她追他。聪明。这样Kerrigan 只会燃眉追击，而Tassadar 可以轻易地控制战场。他可能停下来几次，观察她的反应，在她召集虫群并淹没他之前离开。好计谋，和Mengsk 可能会做的是一个类型，虽然没有任何秘密，只是很明显地树立一个新的并且能力未知的敌人。

　　“好吧，”Raynor 喃喃低语着站起来，被灰尘淹没。“我想我不能一整天都坐在这里。”他捡起几个蘑菇，走向基地，而在那之前他曾转过头瞥了一眼Tassadar 和Kerrigan 走的方向。他想着跟着他们去看战斗的结果，不论谁会赢，那都肯定是一个精彩的镜头，他不想错过。

第十章

　　“我们的处境还不算坏，长官，”在Raynor第一次与Tassadar接触回来之后，Abernathy向他报告。她和Cavez正飞船里与Raynor讨论他们的现状。\"我们现在有好几处水源—虽然没有特别干净的，但都还可以饮用。那些蘑菇可以安全的食用，我们还确认了这有啮齿动物和其他一些生物的存在。我们正在准备陷阱抓他们，几天之内我们八成就能吃上新鲜的肉了。

　　“非常好—发现了这么多食物，自己动脚，丰衣足食，”Raynor开玩笑道。“在另一艘飞船和救生仓那有发现了什么吗？”他最终还是告诉了他的副官救生仓的事，他们派了一支队伍去调查它，掩埋尸体。

　　“不太多，”Abernathy承认。“一点食物，一幅额外的毯子还有一点解毒药。”她耸了耸肩。“我们把那翻了个底朝天，但是我们还是没有找到我们最需要的东西—引擎。”

　　“哦，当然，我们会把需要的东西捡出来。”他转向Cavez。“有用的物资就这些了—危险问题怎么样？”

　　伞兵也耸了耸肩。“这实际上没什么东西。当然，Zerg除外，虽然他们至今为止还没骚扰我们—我们认为Protoss吸引了他们的注意力。”他们就知道这么多了，Raynor已经告诉了他们一点关于Protoss的事。“既没有大型动物也没有大型昆虫，我们看到的小型昆虫看起来也不像是有毒的。我们必须注意的是脚底下。”他警告道。“有一个我的人因为太靠近那些该死的蒸汽喷口而被烫伤了还有Ling差点掉进了一个小弹坑里，千钧一发她稳住了自己，只把头盔掉了进去。”Cavez看起来很严肃。“那些弹坑还很热，一瞬间就把头盔融成了铁水。我们最好把他们标记出来，以免一不小心踩进去。但有些弹坑还是安全的。”

　　“我们能避开那些正在冒烟或者喷发的火山么？”Raynor问道。

　　Cavez摇了摇头。\"这没那么简单。大多数火山正在休眠—它们喷不出什么来。但是它们还是很热。问题在于，当熔岩在那里不动一段时间它显然就会结成一层薄薄的外壳，就像汤那样。接着灰尘覆盖在上面，把它和地表混合在一起。所以它看上去就跟普通地面没什么区别，但事实上表层下面就是熔岩。

　　Raynor考虑了下。“我们不是有些红外线眼镜吗？我们可以用那些来分辨出比较热的部分。”

　　他的助手看起来有点局促不安。“是，长官，”Cavez回答道。“我们已经派人去做了。但要把周围的所有的地段都标记出来会花很多时间，在半径十公里以内的地段里。”

　　“哦，很好。”Raynor感觉自己有点犯傻，嘲笑了自己一下。“我需要换换脑子了，”他有点可悲的承认道。“好吧，现在我们有Zerg，水蒸汽和熔岩了。还有什么东西找上我们吗？”

　　两个人同时摇了摇头：“附近山上可能有些岩石不是太稳固，”Abernathy 指出，“但我们眼下还没往那边过去，所以它还不算什么问题。”

　　“好的。”Raynor用一只手擦了擦脸，然后捋了捋头发。“在周围转转让所有人都动起来忙一天。我们明天该干些什么？”他向她的两位副官需求建议。

　　“我们可以解析飞船的系统，”Abernathy指出。“让所有有电子学技能的人去分析飞船，试着找出其损坏的部位以及如何修理它。”

　　Raynor同意道：“这很好。但我们可能每次只能让很少一部分人来处理这个工作，一次5个人？”俩名副官点了点头。“好，5个人一组，派三组人处理这件事，轮班工作。还有什么其他的建议吗？”

　　“我们在设置陷阱，”Cavez提醒他。“为了食物。”

　　“对，对。”他耸了耸肩。“有多少人知道如何设置陷阱和捕猎？”

　　“只有10个人包括我，长官，”他看起来有点沮丧。“过去我回家后经常跟我的叔叔去捕猎，”他解释道。

　　“没什么值得惭愧的，”Raynor向他保证。“我过去也干过点捕猎的工作，我说不定还能做一打陷阱呢。”他考虑了下这件事。“好吧，让那9个人来做陷阱。你是这件事负责人。没准我们可以建立一条收集蘑菇和水的流水线然后去找找还有什么可以吃的。”

　　“我们已经派了10个人去检查弹坑并标记出危险的，”Abernathy猜到了他的下一个问题。他回应了她一个微笑。

　　“好的，这是个开始，一旦找到了足够的红外线眼镜就另派10个人去标记周边。”她点了点头。“来看看现在怎么样了。49个人里出去了45个，”他俩确认了他的计算。“让剩下的4个人去守卫营地，在周围巡逻，就这么定了。这些工作至少可以让所有人不去瞎想一个礼拜。”

　　“Protoss怎么办，长官？”Abernathy问道。“我们是不是该派个人盯着他们？特别是在他们跟Zerg打架的时候？”

　　Raynor对他一笑：“这个我会搞定。”

　　他花了两天时间来寻找Protoss。他们遗弃了他们的战舰，藏身于群山中。因为火山的影响，这些山脉比豆腐渣工程的小房子还要晃悠，整个区域都充斥着从火山口中翻腾而出和蒸汽喷口中溢出的烟和灰尘。Protoss充分利用了这些非常好的掩护，他们光滑的装甲和满地都是的火山岩浑然一体，而且很显然他们的眼睛足以透过烟和灰尘看到东西。

　　Raynor带上了一周的口粮，冒险在火山中穿行，决心找出和监视Tassadar和他的部队。Cavez和Abernathy正在努力建设营地，每个人都有工作足够让他们忙活一周。他其实并不需要在这，但是必须有人去追踪Protoss，观察他们与Zerg的战斗，所以他还是来了。除此之外，他对两边的头都有些私人了解，这意味着他可能能预测他们的位置和行动，

　　不过这并没对寻找Tassadar起什么作用，至少现在没有。Protoss证明了他们是隐藏他们踪迹的老手，或者仅仅是他们穿过山顶的时候没有在松软的灰尘上留下任何痕迹。他找了两天仍然一无所获。最后他终于认识到他的路子完全错了。

　　“不要试图去寻找动物在哪。”当他刚刚开始学习射击和捕猎的时候，他的爷爷这么教导过他。“找到它需要去哪，在那里等它出现。”这就是他现在需要做的。这座山脉太大了，他不可能在这徘徊一个星期而不错过一小撮Protoss。而且这些外星人没有嘴，这意味着他们不需要吃喝。所以水源就排除在外了。他们需要侦查和探索，这意味着需要一个有利的观测点。这些山脉上有许多尖锐的山顶和狭窄的悬崖，但是一个合适的位置上又需要多少掩护？特别是在Zerg孵化室的范围内—假定执行官有办法发现Zerg的聚集点，以便于Protoss能集中攻击那些地方，这意味着他知道虫群在地下的聚集点。所以他只要找到一条正确的裂缝，一条在岩石上的裂缝能把他带到一快足够一个班的人驻扎的地方的裂缝。在池塘中装满了他的水壶后，Raynor在一个有悬挑的岩石转角处选择了一个良好的观察点，并特意把灰尘覆盖在自己身上做掩护，隐藏起来等待着。

　　当他趴在那里时他肯定是打了瞌睡，因为他再次梦见了Kerrigan。而且再一次，不是梦见了现在的Kerrigan也不是梦见了以前的她，而是他希望的的样子。她穿着跟上次一样的衣服，衬衫的最上面两枚扣子挑逗的敞开着，她的马尾解开了，头发披散在她脸上。风吹开了她的头发，从她的眼睛和脸颊来看她在笑。她的手又细又长，就像艺术家的手，她的指甲被涂成了淡淡的暗绿色，这补足了但不能媲美她如燃烧般的绿眼睛。她非常的美丽。（翻到这不得不吐两句槽…。当初玩任务关的时候就觉得这女的怎么那么丑阿，跟个老妖婆似的。后面Y都变成半虫子了竟然还有人迷恋她，，，，Raynor这家伙也太纯情了吧，做梦都梦见…东西方人的审美观真是不一样………）

　　他也梦见了自己，他在看着她：Jim Raynor就像在他最快乐的时光那样。他的头发比他现在的寸头要长，但仍然能让他的眼睛露出来，风一吹就会盖住眼睛，后面的头发搭在他的t恤上。他穿着时髦的衣服，他穿着过去他作为执法官时一样的鹿皮短裤和斜纹衬衫，但没有防弹背心，取而代之的是一件宽松的皮革背心。他的枪套仍然在他背上，但是里面是空的。他没有武器。他觉得这无关紧要。

　　他靠近Kerrigan，平静的伸出一只手。她笑了，害羞的，把一只手放在了他的手上面。接着他离开了她几步面向着她。他鞠了一躬，她回以屈膝礼，然后他们又回到一起，他们的手仍然握在一起并伸向一边，他们的手臂挽住彼此的腰部。他们开始跳舞。（打住…打住……我快吐了…）

　　接着什么东西在他身边震动，Raynor惊醒了过来。

　　他发了几秒呆，不知道自己在哪要干什么。他只想闭上他的眼睛回去跳舞。但是那声音再次传来，就像是沉重的金属挂蹭石头的声音，就在他身边，他清醒过来，感觉到了他身下的石头和周围灰尘。好吧，他在窥视并希望能发现Protoss。

　　很显然的他做到了。

　　透过岩石的悬挑，他看到了一个Protoss战士站在裂缝旁边，面朝着那恐怖的深渊。那个战士开始往里进，他把自己腿楔入裂缝以支撑他的重量。他的盔甲摩擦着岩石，那就是Raynor听到的声音。另一个Protoss战士抱着手站在他后面，面朝不同的方向，很明显是在站岗。

　　Raynor耐心的等待着在第一个Protoss战士研究着下面的情况时候，接着他们开始移动了。当他们两个都滑进了那狭窄的通路的时候，Raynor爬起来，安静的，抖掉了身上的灰尘，跟着跳进了裂缝。他听不到任何跑动的声音传回来，所以他在跟着Protoss进入前等了几秒。他窥见第二个战士的头在前面的一块石头旁消失了。

　　现在他掌握了他们的位置，Raynor可以盯着他们。他小心的保持一段距离—Tassadar显然不认为他是一个威胁，但他并不想激怒那些战士，他也不知道Tassadar的保护是否还有效。最好不要让他们发现。除此之外，他现在并不需要跟他们交流，他只需要找到他们在哪，了解他们在干什么。

　　一个小时后，他找到了他们的营地。他们的战舰肯定比他想的要多，剩下的也肯定已经降下来了，因为Tassadar至少有100名士兵驻扎在两座火山之间的深谷中。执行官自己盘腿坐在一块扁宽的石头上，Raynor从石头后面瞥了他一眼，发现他的眼睛是闭着的。他在睡觉吗？或是在冥想？还是像Raynor自己做过的那样，在梦中追踪Kerrigan？他没法去证实。但没什么关系—他已经找到他们了，现在他所要做的就是盯着他们。

　　接下来的一天Raynor做了许多准备。他找到了几个不错的位置以供他休息和监视。每个位置都有很好的保护和良好的视野。他还标记出了3个Protoss可能离开山谷的道路，并确保自己能随时盯着那里。如果他们开始移动，他肯定能发现。

　　尽管如此，这段时间内什么都没发生。Raynor不安的发现，那些战士并不像人类一样活动。他们既不绕圈转，也不会削制拐杖，不会去打磨小石头，也从来不交谈。既不吃也不喝，这跟他之前的猜测吻合，他们不需要像人类一样摄取食物。他们只是驻扎着，从没移动过。只是偶尔突然有人会站起来，伸展下身体，做一系列身体活动后就回到原来位置。真是奇异的景象。

　　突然的他们站起来并开始移动了。Raynor正把水壶放到嘴边打算喝口水，Protoss站起来并开始穿过小径去往另一边。该死！他迅速盖起水壶并站起来。他绕下山谷，并在最后一名战士消失在视野前跑向小径。接着他停了几秒以便在跟踪他们之前调整下呼吸。

　　Tassadar带领着他的战士往下走并穿过了第二条小径，来到了一块小高地上面。他带着他的部队来到空地上，并在这里整顿队伍，很明显他们在做战斗准备。但是Zerg在哪？

　　过了一会Raynor找到了答案。最开始他听到了微弱的滴答声和嘶嘶声，紧接着Zerg突然出现在视野里。他们在进军—如果他这么形容他们的爬行，滑动，潜行合适的话—从不远处下面的旧火山上出现。火山周围地面都很平整，那是穿过穿过这片区域最快的路。

　　Tassadar的战士蹲下来，并慢慢开始向高地边缘移动。接着，顷刻间，他们跳了下去，无声的落在了下面一个小的岩架上。从那里他们靠近了陨石坑，用他们装甲的边缘紧贴在岩石上。高地正对着火山的一边，Zerg正在从内往外行军—他们还没发现Protoss，Zealots们正安全的隐藏在陨石坑的根部。

　　再最后一个Protoss跳下去之后，Raynor慢慢爬到高地上面并移动到其边缘。他并没打算跳下去，因为在这他的视野足够开阔了。

　　他的视线跟随着Zerg的行动，它们穿越山脉的边缘进到陨石坑里面去。地面看起来很坚固，他想起了Cavez对他说过的话。当然了如果那只是个假的外壳那么Zerg无疑会掉进去，它们里面还有雷兽呢，但是他们在穿越过程中没出现任何问题，他认为他们有可能能发现热源，就像他的队伍用红外线眼镜作的那样。

　　在所有Zerg都进到盆地里之后Tassadar做了个手势，他的战士们转过身面朝陨石坑，一点一点地与周围的人拉开了点距离。紧接着，在收到了Raynor没看到的某种信号后，它们同时爬上陨石坑的边缘并跳了下去，干净利落。就像他之前看到的，发光的长剑出现在他们的前臂上，长过他们的拳头，他意识到这是他们的主要武器。执行官本人站在陨石坑的边缘上并没有参加战斗—他只是站在那里看着，就像Raynor做的一样。

　　Zerg遭到了奇袭。整个氏族正聚集起来穿越陨石坑，完全没想到会在这里受到突然袭击。Protoss瞬间就冲进了Zerg的队形里，用能量剑切开了Zerg厚实的外壳，在Zerg反应过来并开始抵抗之前，它们已经被扫倒了一片。Raynor看到4个Protoss战士接近一只雷兽，每个人瞄准一条腿，在它来得及使用它那巨大的嘴镰之前就把它切成了碎片。

　　一只刺蛇暴跳起来并尖叫着砍向一个Protoss，在他的盔甲上留下了一道明显的伤痕。那声音带着痛苦，Raynor感觉出了其中的绝望。Zerg们正在祈求帮助！那个Protoss用一只手刺向前方，另一只手挥出一个圆弧，砍下了刺蛇的前肢，并刺穿了它的头部，刺蛇的惨叫减弱下去，但Raynor还是可以听到那刺耳的声音回响着，警告已经被发出去了。

　　Kerrigan肯定就在附近，因为没过一会，Raynor就听到一个强壮的瑟瑟，挂蹭的声音，就像是一只鸟飞行的声音和骨头磨碎的声音混合在一起，接下来她出现了。她跳进弹坑，她身后的翅膀张开着在空中拍打，她落到一名Protoss头顶上，在她落地之前就用她的翼刃将其一分为二。她的氏族迅速在她身边集结并开始对抗Protoss，Kerrgain开始环视她的周围，很明显在寻找她的对手。

　　“你在哪，Tassadar？”她咆哮着，她的声音震撼着山崖，一些石头被震落了下来。Raynor通过他身下的高地感觉到了震动，希望它够结实。“你只会派你的部下替你打仗吗？”

　　她朝上一看发现了执政官，他仍然站在对面陨石坑的边缘上，但是她刚刚来得及发出冷笑，Tassadar就往后一斜，从她的视野中消失了。Raynor从上后方看到，高等圣堂武士优雅的下落，双臂向外展开，接着一个空翻，用双脚落在了一个深深的小峡谷里。他不知如何在同时给了他的战士信号，他们转过身，迅速离开了陨石坑，翻过了边缘就像他们的头那样跳了下去。大多数人没有Tassadar那样的优雅和精确，但他们还是在没有受什么损伤的情况下在谷底完成了他们的重组并迅速离开了，消失在了岩石后面。

　　Kerrigan并没有犹豫，她用力一跳来到了坑边上没比Protoss慢多少，她的翅膀展开着保持着她的平衡。但是等她到达那里，他的敌人早已消失在乱石与岩浆之中。

　　“尽量跑吧，躲藏吧，可怜的Protoss，”她在搜索了一会之后冷笑道。“你不可能永远躲着我。我会找到你—”她的翅膀卷曲起来就像手握成拳头—“我会把你送进地狱！”

　　她回到她的氏族那里确认受损情况。就像Raynor做过的那样。两名Protoss战死，但其他人带走了他们的尸体，只是在灰尘和岩石上留下了一点血迹。无论如何，至少3个Zerg氏族被重创或是消灭。

　　“处理掉受伤的，”她命令到，她走在狭窄的边缘上绕着陨石坑行走，稳定的就像走在宽阔的大道上似的，那些没有受伤的Zerg回应她的命令，迅速去转向它们受伤的同伴，顷刻间空气中充斥着血液与脓水直到站着的只有没受伤的Zerg。那些受伤的不能再战斗。

　　Kerrigan已经到达了火山的另一端并跳了下去，招呼她幸存的Zerg跟随她。她的虫群顺从的爬上边缘并下到了狭窄的岩架上，她带领着它们跟着Tassadar离开的方向，很明显她想去找他。

　　现在的问题是，Raynor坐起来并靠在岩壁上，我现在该怎么办。Tassadar已经消失了，他们估计会回到他之前找到的峡谷去，但Protoss不会傻到用同一个地点隐藏两次，那个执政官很明显他不傻。所以他必须从新开始找他们。现在就算想跟着他们，他们也肯定比他跑得快。他没有什么其他办法。只能在他们上到地面之前等着，就像之前那样再找他们一次。

　　当他正打算移动的时候，他听到一个奇怪的轰鸣声从背后传过来。这声音听起来很熟悉，他随即反应了过来。这是Protoss战舰的声音。

　　“哦，又有什么来了？”他自言自语道，这调起了他的胃口。他回到在高地的边缘窥视着陨石坑的坑底。

　　那艘Protoss战舰着陆了。

　　他的第一印象是这艘船被Zerg攻击然后修理过。它看起来就像是刚刚打过仗—没有闪闪发光的金色，没有庄严的长桨，取而代之的是漆黑的船体。但是在他仔细看过后，他认识到它们的构造完全不同—这艘船比一般的要小，更短，没有Tassadar那艘雅致。船体是黑色的，不是因为收损—黑色让它显得平滑但没有光泽，就是想花岗岩或是黑色的大理石。它没有地方不是黑色，就像一座昏暗的铜像，被风化了但依然坚硬，让人感觉到十分的古老和耐久。

　　这很明显是一艘完全不同的战舰。另一种Protoss舰船。第二艘船到这来干嘛？

　　在那艘船着陆的时候，他边看边盘腿坐下来，它在被杀死的Zerg的脓血中停靠下来。其中一侧展开来形成一条走道。几秒后，几个Protoss出现并沿着踏板下到了陨石坑上面。

　　至少Raynor认为他们是Protoss。

　　就像那艘船有所不同，那些人看起来也不像是Raynor之前见过的Protoss战士。他们高度相似移动起来同样优雅，但他们的装甲更重，更坚固，少了一些流线感和优雅感。就像他们的飞船一样，盔甲就像是吸收走了周围的光线，尽管Char微薄的阳光直照到他们头顶上，他们仍像是站在阴影中。他们有着厚重的眉毛，又长又尖下颚，在额头和脸颊上有着像角一样的隆起盔甲，让他们看起来就像是穿了盔甲的大蜥蜴。他们的腕甲有着奇怪卷口和跟手臂一样长的线，足够粗能产生同样的能量剑，但它们比盔甲的其余地方要黑，就像是暗影与手和手腕结合在一起。

　　接着他们的首领出现了。

　　他很高，就像Tassadar一样高，但是背要更驼。Raynor拿不准Protoss能活多久或是现在有多少岁，但有些迹象证明眼前的这名Protoss很高龄了。尽管如此，这名领导移动的依然很优雅，在他下到地面的过程中，他的脚没有发出一点声音。他的脸比他的其他战士要长，他的下巴有点向上弯曲而扁平，就像是一些庄严的胡须。在他的深陷的绿色眼睛的反衬下，他的皮肤更接近于紫色，但是在他的下巴附近渐渐变成如象牙一般的白色，他的头顶的骨头隆起，他的脸颊周围有着小小的触须，像是有着毒牙的蜥蜴。就像Tassadar一样，他穿着带状的衣服，穿过他的胸口和肩膀形成拱形，但是盔甲散发出的柔和黑暗就像是夜空的星星一样闪闪发光。在这些之下，他穿着有着肥大闪闪发光袖子的长罩衣，罩衣的颜色就像是干燥血液般的红棕色，袖口是毛皮般的暗棕色上面还印有着奇怪的图案。在他的肩膀上有着厚重的肩饰，交织的盔甲或骨片就像是有着深紫色的黎明天空的水晶穹顶交织在一起。（不爽了吐一句槽…。原文如下：overlapping plates 0f metal or perhaps bone scored with swirls and sweeps and pinned together by a gleaming crystal dome the deep purple of a twilight sky。谁能帮忙把它翻翻…。Raynor就是一五大三粗的士兵吧，哪来这么多乱七八糟的形容词…他每次形容个人的长相都烦得我想撕书，你少来点你的印象行不？也是这该死的作者你付个插图不就得了…胡写八写凑字数那？还是秀你的垃圾文采？）一片阴影在阳光下包裹着那名Protoss，Raynor颤抖着，就像是感觉到了从那名外星人和他的船员身上散发出的寒气。

　　这些家伙是谁？他很惊讶。他们来Char干嘛？

第十一章

　　雷纳看着这些新的黑暗星灵集合在一起，低头交流或者祈祷。然后他们移动到陨石坑顶上，不费力地跳起来，落地在斜坡另一边——雷纳发现那是异虫来的方向。他很好奇，离开了藏身地，走下平原，选了一条狭窄的小径，走过峭壁，走向距环形山脚不远处的地面。他小心地移动，因为这里的石头不怎么稳定，但是尽可能的快。他刚好赶上了，看到这些战士下降进入了附近的一个宽阔的大洞。

　　“又是地下，”他喃喃低语，小跑向那个入口，凝视着里面，“真不错。”里面太黑暗了以至于看不清楚太多，但这个洞确实向后伸展，没有变窄的迹象。至少他不会受到限制。叹了口气，他低下身走过低矮的拱形入口，沿着前面传来的不清晰的脚步声向下走。

　　他没必要担心迷路，因为路已经完了。洞穴在这里形成一个长而平缓的曲线，成为一个宽阔的隧道，进入了一个更大的房间。曲线形屋顶距离粗糙的岩石地面至少有100英尺。墙面惊人地平滑——被虫毯包裹着。这个房间被异虫感染了，展示了他们的存在。这不仅包括数量相对少的异虫本身，还有下面那些被聚集在一起的尸体。中间有一个蠕虫样的生物，脑虫。雷纳认出这个是扎兹，蔑视了凯瑞甘的脑虫。明显地她的回应——干掉他的领主——没有使他对她的态度好转。

　　“刀锋女王不值得我们支持，”扎兹低语着，雷纳躲在墙壁的一个突起后面以躲避注意。“她把我们全部拿去为她的焦躁和坏脾气冒险。她不是异虫！”

　　如果他在等主宰的回复，那他显然没有等到。他继续低语。“她的不成熟必须为人所知！她的领导很脆弱。不能再这样了！”

　　当扎兹慷慨地演讲时，雷纳冒险往周围扫视了一周。那些星灵呢？隧道直通向这里——没有分支、角落、休息处——这意味着他们也走了这条路。但他们怎么能走过这些异虫而不被他们发现？他再看了一眼，看到了墙的一部分在他脚下移动，差点跳起来。这部分墙看起来非常正常——直到它开始移动。然后他看到了一个高而颀长的身影。星灵！他们可以，至少是部分地，像凯瑞甘那样变得不可见。仔细观察之下，他可以看见那个战士站在那里，慢慢地他分辨出了其他几个。为什么之前他没有注意到？

　　答案在下一个时刻变得非常明晰。第一个战士转过身——消失了。一秒钟后他又能看见那个星灵了，但他的盔甲已经带上了墙的颜色和图案。极具保护力的伪装。

　　现在他知道了该去看什么，雷纳看到了更多的星灵，都靠着同一面墙，并复制了它的颜色和材质。但他们的头在哪？

　　就好像他的想法是个信号，头头出现了。靠近虫群中心，对着扎兹，距离约100英尺。当他出现时战士们也开始行动，不再像柱子一样靠着墙，下滑到石室地上，脚步声几乎听不见，身形也不比移动的影子更像生物。

　　虫群的反应迅速而一致。雷兽们向前走，在它们的首领周围把它们的镰刀状长牙扣成一个保护层。领主、飞龙、自杀蝠升向空中，刺蛇和迅猛兽环绕着雷兽，朝着外面。异虫们充满期望地扭动着，紧收起利爪和尾巴，露出牙齿。随着比手下先前一步的星灵首领走近，它们本能地靠近在一起。

　　他把一双巨大的爪型的手高举起来，手掌向外，是通用的和平信号。

　　“我是泽拉图，黑暗圣堂武士的执政官。”他向脑虫宣布。他的声音冷而干燥，就像腐烂的叶子，但声音颤抖的外表之下有种节奏，暗示着未展示的城府。“我请求和你谈话，脑虫扎兹。”

　　脑虫轻轻地蠕动。“为什么我应该和像你这样的人说话？”扎兹问道，虽然看起来并不想要个回答。“你是虫群的敌人，必须被消灭。”

　　“无须怀疑你们可以消灭我们，”泽拉图同意道，“因为我们势单力薄，而你们人多势众。但之后呢？你们仍然要和执行长及他的战士作战。你们仍然要阻止女王巩固她的力量——她将用杀死你并接管你的职位和虫群的方法做到这一点。”

　　“你对我们的女王知道多少？”扎兹急迫地问道。

　　“只知道她最大的弱点。”执政官的回答很轻柔，但每个异虫都停下了手中的事情来倾听这场对话，注意着潜在的可能性去摧毁一个可恨的敌人，对他们所作的一切复仇。“你知道吗？”他的声音没有凯瑞甘的力量，但有另一种东西，代表着岁月的深邃，也许还意味着智慧。

　　扎兹肯定也被影响了。“我要获取更多关于这个弱点的信息。”他承认。

　　“我们应当平等交谈，”泽拉图要求道，“我没带任何武装就进入了你的虫群，只为了展示我的诚意。”他的手臂在这整个过程中没有放下来过，而现在他向他们比姿势以更加使他们确信他没有武器。“来见我，我们可以谈谈。”

　　有一会没有人动。雷纳从隧道里的安全处看着，确信异虫会直接冲上去把他撕成碎片。就算他有旁边这些战士，就算雷纳从他身旁感受到了力量，这个神秘的星灵仍然不会是一整个虫群的对手。不过它们仍然没有攻击。扎兹只是抖了抖，好像在争论。虫群等待着，饥渴地颤动着，但没有上前。

　　“我们可以谈，”扎兹最后确认道。在这句话之下异虫向后撤，不过有些迟疑。空中部队散开悬浮在房间的各个角落，雷兽们后退，刺蛇和迅猛兽向旁边移动。现在围绕着脑虫出现了一个空圈子。泽拉图走上前，缓慢地走进房间中心。其他的星灵——雷纳觉得应该是其他的黑暗圣堂武士——也后退了几步，直到在隧道末端排好。几乎就像一场精心编排的舞蹈。

　　“那么，说吧，”当扎兹和泽拉图只有几英尺远时扎兹要求道。在脑虫皮肤之下雷纳可以看见奇怪的形状和各色的闪光，知道扎兹很渴望，也越来越不耐烦。“告诉我们她的弱点。”

　　“遵命，”星灵确认道，轻轻向前倾。他的头低下来，身体收缩了一点以使得他们处在同一平面上。雷纳很惊讶这些星灵怎么可以离肮脏的异虫这么近，但泽拉图没有展现出不舒服，甚至连不喜欢都没有。他看起来好像是要和一个好朋友分享自己的秘密。

　　“你们的女王，”他告诉脑虫，声音不比干枯的低语多多少温情，“正如我说的那样，有一个很大的缺点。一个很容易致命的缺点。”

　　“告诉我们！”扎兹要求道，他前部的闪光更亮了。

　　“好的。”泽拉图点头，一只手放在身后。“这个缺点，和你们其他的族类一样，和你的死亡一样！”说完这些话后，一把刀出现在他露在腰间向外伸展的手上。很像是雷纳在塔萨达的战士身上所看到的，闪耀而炽热的能量刃。但那些武器有着和缓的，蓝白色的光芒。这一把则闪耀着淡淡的黄绿色光芒，和他眼睛一样，刀锋边缘有几缕蒸汽冒出。刀刃一抽出，雷纳感到他的骨头和牙齿涌过一股颤抖，整个房间明显变冷了。

　　然后泽拉图旋转起来，高举的前臂向前猛刺，刀刃深深插入脑虫体内。

　　扎兹尖叫起来，恐怖的声音几乎要把雷纳的喉咙撕成两半。虽然他仇恨异虫，但他仍对这个生物感到遗憾。他现在只想让这恐怖的声音马上停止。黑暗圣堂武士仍站在他原来的地方，刀刃仍嵌在脑虫的肉里，而扎兹在痛苦地抽搐。他体内的光芒也在闪烁，颜色和形状突然出现，不形成任何图案。剩余的异虫共感到了痛苦而翻滚。但它们没有一只做出攻击——显然它们被吓呆了，没有直接命令是动不了的，而扎兹显然不可能给出这样的命令。

　　似乎过了几分钟，泽拉图向前倾使刀刃刺得更深，并扭动他的手臂使刀刃把洞掘得更宽。突然尖叫声就停了，扎兹巨大的身躯倒下了。

　　然后雷纳看到了一件怪事。脑虫体内深处出现了一团光芒，向前移动，越来越完整。它移动出头部的裂口，浮在那上面。那是一个球形的黄色光芒，扭动着，在每个方向上都有着小小的闪光的触手。不知怎的，雷纳知道，这个，而不是那个爬虫外壳，才是扎兹的真身。那个球升起来，悬浮在那里，似乎在等待着命令或指示。

　　然后黑暗圣堂武士开始攻击。他的刀刃斩出一个很大的弧线，那个球被切成两半。闪光的能量刃留下带着微光的痕迹和阴影。那团光被阴影压制了，它的光芒随着它下降而消失，形状崩坏成一些模糊的光点，然后什么都没有了。

　　虫群彻底陷入了混乱。

　　它们从泽拉图开始攻击扎兹时就没有动过，但当他的刀刃切开那个光球时，整个石室回荡过一个声音，介于嘶吼和叹息之间，像是一根拉紧的绳断掉。异虫肯定听到了，而这个声音使它们发狂。它们突然开始了移动，但不是先前那样。现在这是个真正的“虫群”，没有指令，没有目标。雷纳看到一头雷兽踩过一只迅猛兽，把它压平了。两只刺蛇互相转向对方，刀足插进对方的肉里。飞龙俯冲进虫群，向它们的异虫同伴喷吐酸液。自杀蝠撞向领主和雷兽这类大型的异虫，它们自杀性的爆炸杀死了大块头们，将脓水、血肉撒得到处都是。

　　泽拉图站在这场混乱中间，没有移动。他腰间的刀刃消失了，没有注意他面前乱作一锅粥的虫群。过了一会，他点点头，漫步回到隧道中。他的战士们在他过来的时候移到一边，一起走回隧道，走出房间。雷纳在他们走过的时候紧紧抱住墙，但即使他们看到了他，也忽视了他的存在。过了一小会，他们的脚步声消失了，他一个人面对着异虫。

　　它们甚至也没有注意到他。它们正忙于互相杀戮。但这不是由于愤怒，他意识到。他曾见过太多异虫的战斗，知道它们在杀人上可以是多么的有效率。这太随意，太粗心了。一头雷兽狂奔过整个房间，头部到处乱转，镰刀状牙齿刺穿了较小的异虫。但它放过的和它杀死的一样多，也并没有杀死它伤到的异虫——它只是跑起来，无视它所造成的伤害，直到另一面墙。雷纳看着这疯狂的演出，它全力撞向墙壁，牙齿散开，嘎吱作响。它后退，很明显已经晕了，但仍然重复着攻击，一次又一次，每一次都加重了自己的伤害，直到最后它的头撞上一个石尖，发出巨大的声响。它落向地面，头上开了个天窗。

　　这群笨蛋，雷纳看着他面前的混乱想道。它们没有生气——它们已经疯了！

　　他想了想。它们也许已经疯了。或至少，已经没有意识了。这曾是扎兹的部族。脑虫对其拥有绝对的控制。雷纳注意到之前单个的异虫几乎没有主观能动性——即使脑虫其实也是被主宰所控制着的。凯瑞甘是个例外。她被允许拥有自己的意志，对虫群忠诚但也可以自主行动。其余的异虫则被更紧密地控制着。所以，如果扎兹就是整个虫群的大脑，而泽拉图刚刚又干掉了他，这些异虫会怎样呢？没有了控制者。难怪它们已经狂暴了——它们是无意识的杀手，而所有的限制和引导又刚刚消失了。那么结果是，它们只是自相残杀。

　　在雷纳快速向地面行进的时候，他一直在关注着他后面的那场大屠杀，突然一阵冷颤爬过他全身。幸运的是那些异虫实在是太专注了，没有注意到他。异虫最强大的地方在于它们数量惊人，而又能整齐划一地行动，他这样想着爬出了洞穴，深呼吸了一下，为重回到阳光和新鲜空气之下感到放松。泽拉图找到了切断异虫个体之间联系的方式——他只杀了一个脑虫，就有效地搞乱了整个虫群。如果他和他的人们可以学习这种能力，这种干掉脑虫的方法，他们可以结束这场战争！他们可以轻易摧毁整个异虫！

　　“不可能那么简单，”他在走向营地的时候想道。黑暗圣堂武士已经消失了，其他的星灵也是，而他一是疲倦，二是被刚刚所看到的所深深震撼，没办法再跟着他们。除此之外，他要想的还很多。

　　如果只用干掉脑虫就能解决掉整个虫群，那为什么塔萨达不这么干？是的，执行长说他是来了解凯瑞甘的，但之前他也和异虫交战过。为什么不直接瞄准脑虫，把整个虫群弄得手足无措，再一网打尽？那样的话星灵不可能输掉这场和异虫的战争，那些异虫甚至也不会到达玛萨拉和其他人类的星球。

　　还有更多的东西。一定。塔萨达没这么做是因为他不知道这个策略。但星灵肯定已经了解了脑虫，如果这样的话，他们为什么还没有将脑虫作为目标？不可能这么简单：泽拉图知道一些他不知道的东西，甚至连塔萨达都不知道。

　　他的头脑闪回到扎兹的死亡，想到了那团奇怪的光芒。这是他第二次看见一个星灵与异虫首领作战，第二次看到了一些不怎么真实的东西。关于凯瑞甘和塔萨达的战斗，他到底看到了什么？关于泽拉图摧毁那个光球的时候呢？他不知道，但不管那是什么，那肯定是关键之处。泽拉图对脑虫的攻击并不彻底——虫群在那个时刻还在被冻结着，过了一会才陷入狂暴。

　　直到泽拉图毁掉那个光球。

　　不管怎样，那个光球是关键。雷纳很确定他不可能用高斯来福枪射击那种玩意。该死，他甚至不确定泽拉图能不能这么干。所以，也许只有黑暗圣堂武士能做到那样的事情。他很好奇他们会不会考虑和他联手荡平剩余的虫群。显然泽拉图并不像塔萨达那么热衷于测试凯瑞甘的能力——执政官甚至都没有问起她的事情，只是出去寻找并攻击了扎兹。

　　雷纳摇了摇头，“太多东西了，太快了。”他爬上一个小小的陨石坑时自言自语道。他小心着不踩进它的中心，摇了摇一块那里的石头以确认那个表面是否足够坚实。他来时的目标很朴素很清晰，拯救凯瑞甘。但他现在却在岩石中攀爬，在两群星灵当中刺探情报，看着他们轮番上阵嘲讽、进攻异虫。对他来讲有一点太奇怪了，也太复杂了。他想着要是迈克在这里就好了，而这也不是他第一次冒出这个念头。那个好斗的记者比曾经的他还要尖锐。他会理解这一切并向他解释。但迈克不在近旁，而是在远方运作他的反抗者电台，把雷纳丢在这里自己解决问题。

第十二章

　　在雷纳跌跌撞撞的地回到营地之前，他就已精疲力竭。天色已晚。他大部分的手下都睡了，只剩下些夜巡人员还在警戒。他蹒跚地爬进他的帐篷，脱掉靴子，倒头就睡。

　　当然，他又梦见她了。

　　他和凯瑞甘仍在跳舞，浸渍在音乐中，旋转扭动。他认出了这个古老的民间调子，那是在他小时候去爷爷家时听到的。这音乐承载着许多快乐的记忆。与凯瑞甘共舞让他觉得温暖而满足，而这也为那些愉快的回忆增添色彩。尔后，音乐变了，变得舒缓起来。她向着雷纳靠近几步，抬起双手，轻柔地搭在他的脖子上。而雷纳则将手探向她的腰际，紧紧地搂住了她的纤体。他们随着节奏摇摆，偶尔还向前或向后踱着轻缓的舞步。两人的目光交织在了一起。凯瑞甘的双眸里，闪烁着幸福而兴奋的光，似乎还带着些许顽皮。每当他们迈着舞步，她的臀部都触碰到了他。每当雷纳向前靠近，他们的胸脯便蹭到了一起，而她好像并不介意，没有急着后退。她似乎有意策划了这些，他们的身体频繁地触碰着，虽然这些触碰似乎总是出于无意或偶然。她的脸上一直是一种平静而愉悦的表情，然而她的眼神却暴露了一切。她在挑逗他。

　　终于，他再也忍受不住了，紧紧地抱住了她，向她靠了过去，不让她再离开一步。她的眼睛睁大了些，然而雷纳知道她一点儿也不吃惊。她轻轻张开双唇，微微翘起下巴，这样，两人的嘴便触到了一起。起初，他们的嘴唇只是轻轻触着；然而，激情渐渐熔化了矜持，两人紧紧地吻在了一起。这是他们的初吻，值得等待的初吻。它是那么费力却又那么轻柔而甜蜜，并强烈地暗示着接下来也许会发生的事情。两人分了开来。足足有一秒，雷纳觉得无法思考，无法眨眼，甚至无法呼吸。因为，他要她。

　　然后，他了醒过来。

　　“那么在这外面有两种星灵了？”艾伯纳西在由他们三人在穿梭机里举行的惯例晨会中说道。雷纳点了点头，感激地接过她递过来的一大杯咖啡。

　　“是的。”他呷了一口，并没在意这样烫伤了他的舌头。他觉得咖啡因起了作用，将他的身体震得完全清醒。“第二拨星灵称他们自己为黑暗圣堂武士。”在他的记忆中，他又看到了泽拉图和产生自他手的那道暗影，以及包裹着他的由寒冷与暗影组成的斗篷。想到这里，雷纳不禁打了个寒颤。“他们肯定是黑暗的，我敢下这个结论，”他说，“他们的技术，他们的精神能力，无论他们的什么，似乎都汲取自寒冷与黑暗。比如太空。”

　　“但是，难道我们不须要担心他们会攻击我们吗？”卡维兹问道，话语中带着些许焦虑。

　　“不用，”雷纳想打消他的疑虑，“我不认为他们会攻击我们。无论是对于他们中的哪一伙，我们都不是他们的目标。那些正常的星灵在追凯瑞甘。而据我所估计，黑暗圣堂武士只是想摧毁异虫罢了。”

　　“对于我来说，这听起来不错。”艾伯纳西说，雷纳听后轻轻地笑了笑。

　　“是啊，我也是，”他说道。他已经把他看到的告诉了他们，包括异虫氏族的反应，但没提到那个光球。他知道如果他说了会引起怎样的反响，会让他们认为是他发了疯看到了那些东西，所以他有意漏掉了那个部分。“我想我们可以和他们进行些联合攻击，”他承认，“互相帮助。我们提供些额外的火力，他们则用些神奇的东西去把异虫弄得一团糟，然后载我们一程，离开这尽是石头的鬼地方。”

　　“我们怎么找到他们呢？”卡维兹问道。

　　“我能找到他们，”雷纳告诉他。“既然我做到过一次，那么我能再做一次。”他并没有提到，先前那次能碰到黑暗圣堂武士完全是运气使然，但何不让他的手下抱有一点小小的希望呢？“我也会去跟踪另一拨星灵，”他决定道。“我想监视他们三方，两伙星灵和异虫，以免他们中的谁突然到我们地盘来逛逛，或者是他们觉得有必要把我们也除掉。”

　　“你想带些人在身边吗，以防万一？”艾伯纳西问道。

　　雷纳摇了摇头。“不用，我一个人的话能走得更快，也习惯了。而且，每个人都分配到了任务，现在变更他们的任务不明智。”但他没提到更明显的一点——即使每个人都跟他去，他们也不是前一拨星灵或者是异虫氏族的对手，也许也打不过黑暗圣堂武士。毕竟数量带来的安全，仅仅在数量优势在你这边的时候才起作用。

　　“我们把这里的一切都掩护得很好，”卡维兹保证道，雷纳拍了拍这个年轻士兵的肩膀。

　　“我知道了，”他告诉这个年轻人，“我想你们俩不需要我一天都耗在这儿吧。”他咧嘴笑笑，喝了口咖啡。“我最好还是去忙我的，不妨碍你们的事了。”

　　第二天，雷纳出发了，想去跟踪凯瑞甘，泽拉图，或是塔萨达。他正搜寻着他们的踪迹，但很快发现自己面临着一个左右为难的问题：是应该去山里，还是应该去那些低洼地？那里布满了龟裂，小火山口把开裂的地表弄得千疮百孔。他估计星灵会回到山里，因为在那儿他们能找到更多掩护，和便于发现凯瑞甘的有利地形。但她不会去那儿。她会待在较低的地方，搜索整个区域，寻找胆敢靠近她的敌人。他知道这些，无论是从以前那个凯瑞甘，还是从现在这个迷人而又令人生畏的刀锋女王。

　　此外，他的梦告诉他，她在南面而非北面，在低处而非高处。

　　前一天夜里，他又一次做梦，又一次他们在梦中起舞。他们吻在一起，如同以往那样。她从缠绵中抽身出来，傻笑着，挣脱了他的拥抱，脸上闪过一丝狡黠，跑开了。而雷纳不得不追上去。风撩起他的头发，从发间吹过，他放声地笑着，似有无尽的欢乐。她跑在他前面，火红的长发随风飘舞。他那么快乐地追逐着，他喜欢这一切。

　　她跑得很快，而雷纳却有身高上的优势，凭着更大的步伐逐步缩小距离，最终抓住了她的手腕。她失去了平衡，踉跄了几步。雷纳向她扑了过去，两人一起倒在了柔软的草地上。他们没有受伤，快乐而愉悦。凯瑞甘换着法地扭动着手，想从他那儿挣脱，但无济于事。空气中一直弥散着两人的欢笑。

　　最后，她暂时放弃了挣脱的尝试，并突然改变了策略，用肩将他挤到一边，使他再次躺倒在地，然后侧翻到他身上，挤出他肺中的空气。他躺在那儿，试着踹口气，趁此机会，凯瑞甘把手腕抽了出来。“啊哈！”她很得意地喊着，举起双手，使他再也无法抓到。

　　然后，她转过身来，趴在他身上，脸对着脸。她露齿而笑，将自己的嘴唇探向他的嘴唇。

　　他醒了过来，却还在回味她给的那个吻。

　　现在，雷纳正漫游于查尔的这片陌生而富含硫磺的不毛之地上，他又想起那些梦来。他以前梦到过凯瑞甘，当然，这从他们初次见面就开始了。他梦到过曾经的那次邂逅可以以怎样不同的方式发生，梦到过他们聊天，梦到过他们独处，甚至梦到过如果凯瑞甘从他脑子里读到了这些的话会想开枪杀了他。但自从登陆查尔，他就越来越多地梦到她，几乎是每当他闭眼的时候。这难道只是因为他曾认为她死了，而现在知道她还活着，即使她已经变了？或是因为现在他对她的好感比以往更加强烈？还是因为她在新的形态下有了无法阻挡的魅力？

　　他在平原上潜行，保持着高度警觉，小心翼翼地避开那些大大小小的裂缝和滚烫的蒸汽。曾经的那个凯瑞甘会消失掉，然后神不知鬼不觉地出现在他面前。但不知怎的，他并不觉得这个新的凯瑞甘会用那个把戏。现在她更加自信而无畏。也许这正是他喜欢她的部分原因。他曾一直认为，凯瑞甘的自以为是只不过是这个孤独而自我意识的女孩的伪装罢了。而现在，她对自己信心十足，没有必要去玩弄那些把戏。

　　他来到了一个巨大裂缝的边缘，在它的下面显然是个山谷。他遮住眼睛，避免被炙烤的尘埃与岩石反射的强光直射，勉强向山谷下望去，发现了些活动迹象。那片地表似乎比周围的暗些。起初他并不能分辨清到底是有什么东西在动，还是蒸汽造成的空气的扰动，欺骗了他的眼睛。他斜着眼看了看，想观察得更清楚些，但最终还是放弃了，从别在腰带上的套子里拿出了望远镜。有了它，雷纳便可以把这纷扰的景象看得更清楚些。

　　那一定是异虫。他能辨别出一些在空中游荡的领主，一些较小的东西在它们之间穿梭，可能是飞龙。现在很容易辨认出，在它们的下面是巨大的雷兽，而在它们周围比较小的那些则应该是刺蛇和跳虫。一个身影从它们的前面走出来。在这个距离上，即使是从望远镜中看去，它也无异于一只深色的长了脚的蝴蝶。熟悉的轮廓，熟悉的步姿。他立刻认了出来，那就是凯瑞甘。

　　“找到你了，”雷纳低语道，一边将望远镜装进了套子，开始研究起面前这大裂缝的边缘。在他一旁的一小段距离，他发现了一道拐向下的缝隙。对雷纳来说，它足够宽，如果它直通谷底，那么下去就简单了。它也足够窄，足以让他可以不很费力地沿着它返回来。他希望他并不须要在整个异虫氏族都在奋力追寻它们的猎物时这么做。

　　往谷底才走一半，这缝隙便没了，它通向一小段岩架。在这岩架下方约十英尺，雷纳又发现了一段，他跳了下去，及时站稳，险些跌落。这段岩架只有几英尺宽，但往前五英尺，就是更长的一段，并向下通到一条小径。在跳上去之后，雷纳又继续向谷底前进。他足足用了一两个小时才到达谷底，而他早已经汗流浃背、精疲力竭。同时，异虫也更近了。

　　他紧靠着墙，利用它作掩护，喝了几小口水，嚼了些干粮，缓慢地向山谷更深处移动。异虫离他还有一大段距离，他缓步前行，尽力保持隐蔽和静默。他只是想暗中监视它们，而不是被他们弄死。

　　终于，他在身后的墙上发现了一道仅仅与肩同宽的缝隙，可以供他隐蔽。他将自己塞进那个狭小的空间，静静等待。异虫已靠得足够近，他听到了动静，并尽力聆听。

　　“这些星灵胆小得令人发指！”凯瑞甘处在盛怒中。雷纳透过缝隙向外窥视，看到她如暴风雨般在谷底穿行，骨翼随着步伐在空中戳刺。“塔萨达不可能永远逃过我的愤怒，”她对自己许诺道，双手紧握成拳，挥向两侧，“我会找到他，然后——”

　　空中突然飘来一个微弱的声音，打断了她的暴怒。雷纳缩了回去，像刚才那样往上瞥视。那是一只领主。他想知道它来自哪里，因为凯瑞甘的领主们还在她身后，与整个氏族在一起。

　　“凯瑞甘，”那个领主喊道。他认出了这个声音，它来自于另一只脑虫，名叫达格斯。在雷纳的梦中，他曾在在亚美瑞格上为她的进攻提供爪牙。“扎兹死了！”他告诉了她这个消息，他的领主在她刚好够不着的地方，提心吊胆地飘动着。有一秒钟的时间，雷纳在想达格斯是否听说过在那个火山口里，凯瑞甘是怎么对待扎兹的领主的。他难道不担心她也会攻击他的使者吗？

　　然而，这并不是一个不受欢迎的消息，所以她只是笑着看着它，露出锋利的牙齿，卑鄙而恶毒。“哦？”她柔声说道，骨翼满意地蜷在身体的周围。“你说死了？”接着，她的笑容暗淡下来。“真遗憾，脑虫是不可能被真正杀死的，”她说道。这让雷纳诧异，引起了他的注意。她这么说是什么意思？“我想，”她接着说，“主宰会很快让他转世重生的……”

　　雷纳将头靠在他藏身之处那冰冷的石头上，试着理解刚才她无意间说出的那些话。脑虫会转世重生！他对此的第一反应，便是觉得那简直是一派胡言——他曾经听到过人们谈论转世重生，通常他们是些充满幻想、想法怪诞的老人或孩子。但这次，是凯瑞甘在谈这个，甚至在她变身之前，她就是那么理智而务实，这点和他一样。然而现在她变成了异虫，总之，这剥去了她残存的轻浮。假如她在谈论转世重生，尤其是关于一只脑虫的时候，她是认真的。这意味着异虫的指挥官不可能被杀死，至少不是永久性的。他的心沉了下来。异虫拥有着难以置信的数目的爪牙，并总能繁殖得更多。现在，它们的指挥官也是不死的。它们不可战胜。

　　显然异虫自己也这么认为，这解释了从达格斯的回答中所流露出的恐慌，“不，他不会了！”那个领主更加激动不安，凯瑞甘抬起头，好奇地看着它，雷纳也是。“星灵发明了新的攻击方式，”达格斯匆忙解释，“强大到足以抵消我们的转世重生，甚至波及主宰本身！”

　　听到这些，雷纳不禁想大声喊叫，他咬住穿着手套的手，以免发出声来。泽拉图！无论那个黑暗圣堂武士对扎兹做了什么，那一定是永久性的，并让整个虫群陷入巨大恐慌。

　　“我也觉得奇怪，”凯瑞甘承认，似乎是自言自语，“为什么我感到主宰……离我那么远。”

　　“我亦有此感，”达格斯回答道。从脑虫的话语中雷纳听出了惊讶与悲伤。“你还太年轻，最近才加入虫群。我似已活过数生，而一直以来，主宰的意志与我同在。现在空虚占据着我的脑海。我的呼喊未等到他的回应就已消逝。”

　　“那很难么，”凯瑞甘问他，话语里带着傲慢与奇怪的讥讽，“没有主宰的指引，引导自己的方向？”

　　“那不是我们的方式”这是达格斯唯一的回答，雷纳看到凯瑞甘的脸色突然变了，似乎很反感。她显然不高兴，虽然雷纳知道，她很乐意看到扎兹永远地死了。尽管那样，她仍因了解到这个新的消息而咆哮着，鉴于最近一系列的事情，她的骨翼不耐烦地颤搐起来。“那么，”她终于说道，几近咆哮。“塔萨达的计划只不过是调虎离山了。我不该这么低估他，”总之，她看起来甚至比以前更加愤怒，如果凯瑞甘找到了那个执行长，雷纳会可怜他的。凯瑞甘一直痛恨的一点，如果有的话，就是有人像觉得她无足轻重地那样对待她。然而塔萨达对她的嘲弄只不过是一个让她心烦意乱的计策罢了。实际上，这并不意味着她不重要——恰恰相反，这与星灵的话相称，星灵说过她很关键，是极大的威胁——但她不这样看。

　　“没有了它们的主人，”达格斯说道，“扎兹的氏族变得狂乱，现在甚至威胁到了主巢簇。”他的领主转过身，其他领主仍在凯瑞甘的氏族上空游荡。“脑虫，”它喊道，向那个无名的脑虫发号施令，它的氏族正被凯瑞甘指挥。“你必须清除掉那个横冲直撞的氏族，以免它们造成更大损失。”或许是出于恐惧，达格斯的领主抽搐着。“我会亲自料理那些星灵。”

　　“不，”凯瑞甘纠正道，那只领主原本转身飞走，因这句话而停了下来。“那个高级圣堂武士是我的。”

　　“我们都应该做好自己的本职工作，尊敬的刀锋女王，”达格斯训斥般地告诉她，字里行间透着怀疑。显然，凯瑞甘也这么认为，她的骨翼扫起来，擦过领主的身体，疼得令它抽搐。“我们必须按主宰可能会吩咐地那样去做，如果他会再次发话。”

　　“那个高级圣堂武士是我的，”她轻轻地重复道，话语中带着力量。“你去对付扎兹的氏族。我会找到星灵，并让他们为自己的行为付出代价。”她咧嘴笑了笑。“如果主宰和我们仍有连接，他会准许这个方案。”雷纳听得出来，她最后的陈述中带着刺，提醒那个脑虫他没有后台。

　　一段时间里，没有人说话，雷纳几乎能感到那种剑拔弩张的气氛。他想知道，达格斯会被证明是另一个扎兹，公然违抗凯瑞甘的命令吗？

　　但是达格斯是一个更年长的脑虫，而且明智得多，“如你所愿，”他最终声明道。“我的氏族在扎兹的氏族附近，它们会清理掉那些发狂的家伙。”

　　“很好。”凯瑞甘点点头。“完成之后，找到星灵的飞船，并摧毁它。我不会给他逃跑的机会。”她收起骨翼，转身离去。达格斯意识到这儿没他事了，他的领主也飞走了，大概是回到了他的氏族那里。这里只剩下凯瑞甘和她的那些忠诚的仆从。

　　“你去哪儿了，小圣堂武士？”她低声道，眼睛缩小了些。雷纳感觉到眼睛里面有种奇怪的压迫感，他认为他看到凯瑞甘朝他的方向瞥了一眼。然后，这种感觉消失了。“啊，”过了一会儿，她叹息道。“你在那儿啊。”她开始奔跑，骨翼在身后拍打着，使她进入滑翔。她的氏族跟着她，不一会儿便只剩雷纳一人留在原地。他等待着，直到确信它们都跟了过去，才放弃了藏身之处和所有的伪装，向它们追去。

　　异虫一连跑了几个小时，似乎不知疲倦。它们跳过小的裂缝，绕过更大的那些，最终来到一片广阔的高原。在安提加主星，雷纳和凯瑞甘就是在这样的高原上初次相见的。他尾随着异虫，汗流浃背，气喘吁吁。最后一只异虫跳了下去，落到那片高原上，雷纳及时地滑到一边，停了下来，差点一同掉下去。

　　星灵正等着它们。

　　他们是塔萨达的星灵，足有一百人，被安置在了高原的另一端边缘。塔萨达站在他们前面，靠近这块宽广而扁平的石头中央，高大而自豪。他的目光已锁定在凯瑞甘身上，而此刻她已第一个跳下到这高原，向他大步前进，骨翼因某种预感而张开。

　　“最终你还是被截住了，小圣堂武士，”她在向他靠近时发出嘶嘶声。她的手弯曲成爪，渴望插进肉里，骨翼也效仿着这个动作。

　　“这应该是我们的战斗，尊敬的女王，”塔萨达回答道。“在这里面对我，我会亲自将你打败！”在她靠近时，他没有后退，也根本没有移动。她突然停了下来，或许只有五英尺远，而他那双蓝色发光的大眼睛只是冷静地注视着她。

　　“我正面对着你，小圣堂武士，”凯瑞甘回答道，对他龇着牙，“而你正面对着自己的末日！”她跳向前，像曾做过的那样旋转身体，骨翼在身周旋过，它们的刃口向执行长呼啸而去————但这里空无一物。塔萨达已不在那里。

　　“你在哪里？”凯瑞甘转身环顾，几乎与雷纳同时发现了那个高级圣堂武士。这个星灵的领袖正站在她身后十步远处，看起来仍然毫无忧虑。雷纳不清楚他是怎么移动得这么快的，而凯瑞甘似乎对此并不在乎。她弹跳起来，转动身体，然后单脚着地，再次起跳，进入旋转，几乎是跳过了这段距离。多么优美的死亡芭蕾，她的身体变成了呼啸的利刃，一眨眼的功夫便到了跟前。然后她的翼刃找到了它们渴求的血肉。

　　一只刺蛇的血肉。它已被切成几块，残存的身躯仍在颤搐，同时塔萨达的影象从它身上褪去。

　　“错觉？”她咆哮着，转过身，对着高原的另一端。她的目光扫过全副武装的星灵战士，试着找出她的死敌，嘴唇咧出讥讽的神情“你害怕面对我吗，圣堂武士？”

　　“只要你继续表现得不出我所料，尊贵的女王，”塔萨达回答道，“我就完全不须要面对你。你的自身便是你最大的敌人。”他的声音在他们四周回荡，但却没有清晰的声源，而在此期间，他的战士也一动不动。

　　“你不可能躲过我，小星灵，”凯瑞甘警告他，眼睛缩小。雷纳感到了那种同样的奇怪压迫感，并意识到她正将精神感知向外延伸。几秒钟之后，她从蹲着的姿势中站直起来，将注意力集中在一个狂徒身上。“我知道你在这儿，”她喊着，向她选中的那个战士走去。“我找不到你不要紧，你是他们的领袖，小圣堂武士，我想你不会允许你的手下受到伤害。”她的骨翼从身后伸展开来，沐浴在阳光中。雷纳觉得，在她的翼刃之间，他看到了一种像肥皂泡般的光辉，连接着那些羽刺，在它们之间形成一层模糊的膜，如彩虹一般。

　　现在，凯瑞甘来到了那个战士面前，冲他笑着。这并不是个友善的笑。而星灵仍然一动不动，目光穿过了她，似乎望着远方某处，双手交叉于胸前。她转过身去，好像要对她的异虫发话，它们待在原地，不耐烦地等待着。她的左翼在转身时扫了过去，那道光辉接触到了战士的脖子。他还没发出任何声音，眼睛便突然黯淡下来，头颅滑落在地，从那片高原的边缘滚落。他的身体在一秒后突然瘫倒，血液从曾经支撑头部的地方喷涌而出。

　　“想让我再杀一个吗？”凯瑞甘喊道，面露笑容，转身对着这排的下一个战士，骨翼兴奋地扭动着。

　　“等等！”一个排末的战士走向前，装甲和服饰随着移动而变化着，直到最终变成塔萨达的模样，站在凯瑞甘面前，“好吧，尊贵的女王。我在这儿，在战斗中面对我吧。”

　　“乐意如此，”凯瑞甘咆哮道，向他冲去。

　　雷纳又一次看到了奇怪的分层影像。他看到凯瑞甘冲向塔萨达，骨翼向他猛击过去，然后那个执行长闪过了这一击。这个星灵的领袖没有任何武器，也没有作任何反击，但凯瑞甘似乎总在侧身躲闪着什么。

　　她又旋转起来，一个骨翼的尖端划到了执行长的胸甲，使他失去了平衡。他没有试着去站稳，在倒地前用一只手撑住自己，双脚蹬离地面，完成了一个后空翻，而后重新站在地上。

　　塔萨达试着走向前，但突然被猛地掷了回来，砸向他的战士。他们及时地支撑住了他，险些一起跌落。这时，雷纳发现执行长的眼睛睁大了些，或许是出于惊讶，或是出于疼痛，也许两者皆有。

　　塔萨达又被突然地拉向前，四肢在空中无助地扭动。他被拉到了凯瑞甘面前，两人的脸只有几英寸远。他挥舞双臂，双手成拳，击向她的头，但她的骨翼挡住了这一击，将并他定在半空，就像一只大虫子被困在了蜘蛛网里。

　　这是雷纳所看到的，但并非他看到的全部。因为发生在另一个层面上的，却是另一连串事物。它们与之前那些很相似，但更壮观，更令人兴奋，也更令人紧张。

　　凯瑞甘冲向塔萨达，挥出骨翼，呈现出彩虹般的光泽。塔萨达的身体突然被一种蓝色的光辉所笼罩。在星灵飞船周围，雷纳曾见过这种光辉。

　　执行长转身闪躲，同时举起一只手来格挡。虹光与蓝光相触，顿时火花四溅。他挥出另一只手，结实的一拳反击，划出蓝色的弧光，凯瑞甘退后一步，架起骨翼，避开了这一击。

　　她走向前，旋转身体，一只骨翼向他扫去。即使他举起双手来招架，也被掀飞很远，他的光辉暗淡了些。

　　塔萨达坠向地面，用一只手作支撑，并借助凯瑞甘这一击的能量，向她弹跳过去，右脚部的光辉增强并向外扩展，如同一把利刃，猛击向她的头部。然而她扭到了一侧，躲了过去。

　　接着，她的骨翼弯曲起来，向前猛击，如投掷的动作。七彩的辉光射向前去，如一张大网，抓住了执行长的胸甲。

　　凯瑞甘身体后倾，骨翼扫向身后，将塔萨达猛拉向前。他的光辉更加黯淡，尤其是在他们接触的时候。他试着双手出击，将光辉集中到手部，直至双拳如灯塔般明亮，但凯瑞甘的骨翼挡住了这一击。更多的火花飞溅，然后一道虹光从骨翼中闪出，紧紧地捆住了执行长的双腕。

　　凯瑞甘举起双翼，塔萨达如同拉线木偶般被一同举起。他的光辉几近褪去，只剩下头部周围的光环。

　　“现在你是我的了，小圣堂武士，”凯瑞甘柔声说道，端详着她的俘虏。“我应该对你做些什么呢？”她如演戏一般地做出沉思状，一支手指头支住下巴，另一只手插在臀部。过了一会儿，她点了点头。“死亡，我想，但不会那么快的。”接着，她看着其余的星灵，就像是刚刚才发现他们一样。而他们仍然一动不动地待在原地。“哦，对了，我把他们给忘了，”她评论道，回头瞥视她的氏族。“杀了他们，”她命令道。“不留活口。”

　　这些异虫一直都在振翅挠爪，渴望进攻，但女王有令在先，它们不愿抗命。现在，有了女王的准许，它们开始冲锋，将先前受抑制的杀戮欲完全释放出来。雷纳看到一只飞龙俯冲向一个星灵，张开嘴巴，掠过这个战士的上空，并折了回来，准备下一轮进攻。它经过时所吐出的酸液蚀穿了他的装甲，蚀穿了他的皮肉，而且显然也蚀掉了他的骨头。他的身躯如散架的拼图般瘫倒在地。一对刺蛇突袭了另一个星灵，而跳虫则遍布整个战场，它们撕咬着星灵的四肢，使这些战士无法格挡任何攻击。

　　我得帮助他们，不然凯瑞甘的异虫会将他们屠杀掉，雷纳这样决定。他仍然在靠近高原近端上面一个安全的地点观望。但是他能够做什么呢？他没有步枪，没有装甲，没有后援，只有一把小手枪而已。他责骂着自己为什么没有穿战斗装甲——它会让他无处可藏，但是可以让他之前能轻易地追赶他们，并让他现在在需要的时候能提供一些火力。

　　雷纳绝望地环顾四周，看有没有什么他可以帮得上忙的。他的视线聚集在那些空中的异虫上，它们漂浮在其他成员上空不远处。飞龙，领主，还有自杀蚊，在空中等待着女王的召唤，准备加入战斗。那些小巧而迅速的自杀蚊有足够体力飞行数小时，而不须要补给营养，三个领主大致排成一排，飘在高原的另一侧。那些自杀蚊成排地被安置在领主身后，饥渴地等待着进攻的命令，时刻准备冲向敌人，引爆自己。

　　这样的安排突然给了雷纳一种奇怪的直觉，他又往回瞥了一眼，但还是没弄明白这直觉是什么。于是他只好作罢，将注意力转而集中在异虫地面部队上，它们正快速地解决着星灵部队。星灵战士比一般人类更高，更强壮，也迅速得多，更别说和异虫比了。他们有着久经考验的装甲，足以抵挡一般异虫爪子的攻击；同时，他们的能量刀足以轻易地切开异虫坚硬的表壳。在一场公平的战斗中，星灵能轻易取胜。但现在他们严重地数量不足，每一个战士遭到三至四个异虫的围攻，异虫用数量上的优势淹没了他们。已有几乎一半的星灵倒下了，同样的命运也将降临在残存的那些战士身上。

　　雷纳希望他能做点什么。他喜欢星灵——至少是赞赏并尊敬他们。而且在这段艰难的岁月里，他需要所有他能找到的盟友。总有办法可以扳回败局。但是这需要重武器，而它们却在营地里；或者是高爆炸药，每次他们使用时都倍加珍惜，并且——

　　当雷纳想到炸药时，他猛然抬头凝视着那些异虫的空中战士，尤其是那些领主。就是它了！他意识到了什么。那个受凯瑞甘指挥的脑虫，年轻而又无名，他缺乏达格斯甚至是扎兹的那种经验。这个新生的脑虫不知道去让他的部队间保持距离，尤其是那些空中单位。

　　雷纳掏出手枪，架在身前的石头上，稳住枪身。他仔细地瞄准，缓缓地吸气，再缓缓呼出。三点已成一线————他开火了。

　　他一连开了三枪，不清楚是否足够。但事实上已经够了。

　　第一枪击中了最远的那个领主，使它痛苦地扭动着。第二枪由于这个生物的动作而未命中，而第三枪打在了第一枪的弹孔旁，扯开了伤口。这个领主被突如其来的攻击击晕了，摇晃着飘向后方，无法控制自己的飞行————然后猛地撞向了它身旁的领主。

　　压住了停在它们之间的那些自杀蚊。

　　巨大的爆炸将雷纳掀飞，手枪撞到了他的脸上。他脑袋嗡嗡作响，脸部抽痛。但他在这块高原上所造成的破坏却远远不止这些。自杀蚊是异虫的自杀式袭击者，生来便是为了在碰撞中爆炸。它们爆炸时的威力，足以摧毁一艘穿梭机，或是一架作战飞船，只需几只便可破坏一艘星际战舰的船体。这儿曾有一排自杀蚊，第一只的爆炸加剧了其他自杀蚊间的碰撞，最后这里便只剩下了血肉和骨头。而且，这块高原上的坚硬岩石反射着冲击波，给待在附近的倒霉鬼造成更大杀伤。

　　异虫受到了最为惨重的打击。与星灵相比，它们数量更多，且没有装甲的外部保护。跳虫们和两个领主一样，直接被炸得粉碎。飞龙、刺蛇和雷兽有着更厚的外壳，但最靠近爆炸中心的那些也被撕得粉碎，离得较远的那些则都也满身伤痕、肢体残缺了。

　　星灵部队也并非未受损失。爆炸突然袭来，将他们中的一些掀下高原，撞在下面的石头上，粉身碎骨。对于最靠近爆炸中心的那些星灵，无论是他们的装甲还是他们的肉身，都被撕得粉碎。整个星灵部队就像是被狂风卷起的树叶，在空中飘飞。

　　甚至连凯瑞甘也未能逃过这一劫。

　　她背对着她的氏族，全部的注意力都集中在了她的俘虏身上。爆炸使她丧失了全部武力，并使她跪倒在地上，她的骨翼向前刺去，使自己不至于撞在石头上，看上去就像蜘蛛的腿。

　　这个动作解放了塔萨达。他也被冲击波掀飞，但用一只手抓住了高原的边缘。他在那儿挂了一会儿，然后高举另一只手，像曾做过的那样伸展身体，以一种令人印象深刻的方式腾空而起，直立着轻落在地上，面朝这混乱的景象。

　　片刻间，执行长思考着眼前的景象，眼睛扫了一眼雷纳的那个方向。他已爬回了原先的位置，并观察着发生的这一切。他觉得他看到塔萨达朝他点了点头。接着，或许是收到了高级圣堂武士的命令，那些仍活着的星灵战士迅速抓起他们倒下的同伴，全速跑向高原的边缘。之后一秒，他们停在那里，远处的石头映衬着他们的轮廓。然后他们一起跳了下去，动作如同一人，消失在下面的峡谷中。

　　“不！”凯瑞甘咆哮道，骨翼弯曲，并从身后从身后伸向脚部。她瞪着那个塔萨达跳下去的地方。“你不可能这么轻易逃过我的，小圣堂武士！”然后她跑向边缘处，骨翼在身后轻拍着，跳了下去，似是滑翔又似是坠落，追逐着她的猎物。

　　她那些活下来的爪牙聚集在一起，跟随着她，时而攀爬，时而跳跃，又时而飞翔。不一会儿它们就都跟了过去，又只剩下雷纳一个人留在原地，查看着他造成的破坏。

　　“作为一天忙活的结果，这不赖，”他承认道，小心地擦了擦脸上的划伤，咧嘴笑着。他救了执行长的命，至少目前如此，同时也救了他的一些手下。如果这都不能博得他的好感，那就没什么可以了。他想躺下来休息会儿——他仍因追逐凯瑞甘而疲惫，而现在又因爆炸而受伤。不过他知道，他必须得使那个异虫氏族一直处在他的视线中。

　　“好吧，好吧，”他对自己轻语道，将手枪放回套中，站了起来。接着，他叹了口气，又开始尽可能快地向高原和下方的山谷前进。他尽全力用眼去看，用耳去听，寻找任何他正决意跟随的外星人的踪迹。

第十三章

　　对于雷纳很幸运的是，凯瑞甘并不想隐藏自己的行踪。事实上，事情完全相反——她想让塔萨达知道她是来找他的。不管怎样她找到了援军，很有可能是从其他部族招来的。她的领主、飞龙、自杀蝠在头上像寻找尸体的秃鹫般盘旋，确定她的位置非常容易。

　　不幸的是，她的移动也非常的迅速。比没穿装甲的人类快得多。雷纳再一次诅咒自己为什么没带动力装甲，发誓不再犯同一个错误。

　　现在的情况是，他在追虫群，虫群在追星灵，而在他们停下来之前他不可能赶得上。他知道可能只有等到这场追逐结束他才有机会。他不确定他们究竟会去哪里，但知道必须跟上他们。也许塔萨达可以等，但他确实不知道就算等到了他的单发手枪又能做些什么。他怀疑凯瑞甘或者她的脑虫部下会不会第二次中同样的计谋。但他知道他必须看看发生了什么。也许只是他觉得他必须靠近凯瑞甘并且留意她的情况。或者是至少要有人看看她的暴行。

　　凯瑞甘速度不慢，但星灵也如此，塔萨达明显需要时间来重整队伍，研究一下目前为止的情报。执行长和他的部队消失了，留下凯瑞甘愤怒地吼叫，双翼和利爪刮擦着岩石，留下深深的痕迹。雷纳隔着两座山谷都能听到她的叫声，减缓了他的步伐。这不是出现在它们面前的好时机，这些家伙正渴求着鲜血。没有了真正的猎物，他会是个不错的替代品。

　　他走过岩石时，尖叫和诅咒突然停止了。他还是被发现了？他觉得他和它们的距离不足以使那些空中的异虫注意到他，但鬼知道它们有什么样的视力。他平躺在石头上，一动不动，凝神谛听。

　　“我们碰到了什么？”是凯瑞甘，她正在愉快地低语。见鬼！雷纳知道她看到了猎物，而他不认为那会是塔萨达。雷纳的手滑向手枪。如果虫群真的扑上来，他会尽量干掉几个。虽然这并不会有太大不同，但至少可以不让他觉得自己是个废物。

　　“不是圣堂武士，不是他们，”凯瑞甘自言自语，骨头擦过石头的声音说明她正在移动。是声音越来越大了？还是他只是在幻想？“但也一样。”她说。他几乎能听见她的愉悦。

　　“出来吧，小子，”她低声说。“来玩玩啊。我的部族正渴求鲜血，而你们提供了不错的目标。出来，小星灵。告诉我为什么你和你的同类气息不同。”

　　星灵？雷纳出了口气。至少不是他。但等等——气息不同？只能是他见过的另一种星灵，干掉扎兹的那个奇怪的星灵。

　　泽拉图。

　　刮擦声仍在继续，但不再变大。雷纳冒险地从石头走开，打量四周。异虫仍在一个山谷以外。他爬上小山，因为手放得离一条蒸汽裂缝太近轻轻骂了一句。在快要到山顶的时候停了下来，用一块小石头做掩护。

　　凯瑞甘站在下面山谷中狭窄的平面上。她的异虫围绕着她，愤怒地为了延迟而吼叫，也为了新的猎物的出现而兴奋。从这里他可以清楚地看见它们并且可以轻易辨别出凯瑞甘的双翼，一开一合，难掩兴奋之状。她正看着山谷边缘的一个洞口，似乎在对着里面黑暗的空间说话。

　　雷纳什么都没看见，但过了一会凯瑞甘点了点头。“别浪费时间去伪装你自己了，小星灵，”她向着空气警告，“虽然我看不到你可我能感觉到。现身吧。”

　　泽拉图在他面前出现，距离不到40步，身后是他的黑暗圣堂武士。他们一定也用了追逐扎兹时的技巧，雷纳以前曾经看见过。这并没有骗过凯瑞甘，但黑暗圣堂武士并不见得很在意。事实上，泽拉图边往前走边点头，那是平等对待的标志。

　　“参见异虫女王，”星灵吟唱道，他的字句在雷纳脑海中回响。开始的时候听起来冰冷而干燥，但同时也展示出了隐藏着的力量。“我是泽拉图，黑暗圣堂武士的执政官。”他向她鞠躬，深深地，优雅地。这似乎逗乐了凯瑞甘。“你的到来已经预先被知会。”

　　“是吗？”她问道，甚至连雷纳都能看到她唇上挂着的笑意，就像听到她的声音一样清晰。“他们是怎么说我的，执政官？”

　　“你是高潮的一部分，”星灵回答道，“但并不是结束。”他的眼睛明亮地闪耀起来，凯瑞甘似乎被眼神给定住了。她的整个虫群都没了动作，被执政官的眼神和预言所束缚。“你将展现路途，展现那必经之路，古老的信仰失效，亟待重组。（译者：这种程度的正式文本确实我无能为力了……原文：You shall show the way，the path that must be taken，the realigning of old truths no longer valid）”他吟唱道，对雷纳来讲听起来好像那个星灵是在读一篇什么地方的文章，或引用神圣的祭文。“你不是主管之人，但你的存在提供了必需的指引。”（同上，Yours is not the hand，but your very existence provides necessary instruction.）

　　“高潮，”凯瑞甘重复道，举起手凝视着它们，手指完全伸展开，爪子在即将消失的黄昏中闪闪发亮。“它们确实不是手。”她抬起眼看着泽拉图，笑容变成了掠食者的，“但就算如此，执政官，至少它们将会是你生命的高潮。”她开始移动，向前跳，双爪猛击过去就好像要撕开一扇窗帘——或者一个身体。

　　任何人类都会被那样的攻击撕成碎片，雷纳知道，他有点战栗。就此而言，他怀疑大部分星灵也会一样的被撕裂，凯瑞甘的利爪撕开他们厚厚的闪光的盔甲和撕纸没啥区别。泽拉图的肉似乎没啥不同的，也没有更多的保护。

　　但爪子袭来时他不在那里。

　　他已经闪开了，在一股怪异的影子状的黑雾中跳舞一般退到了后面。他的腰里出现了那把闪光的绿色刀刃，这把刀曾终结了扎兹的生命。

　　“那就这样吧，”他声明道，字句在岩石间回响，使几只异虫趴在地上不住地颤抖，“我们应该打上一场。”

　　就像看凯瑞甘和塔萨达的战斗一样，雷纳看到了两场互相重叠的战斗。两人变换了位置与姿势，但并没有变换动作。他模糊的意识到异虫已经从凯瑞甘攻击时进入的麻痹中恢复了过来并开始攻击黑暗圣堂武士，但他的眼睛仍锁定在两个首领及他们的私人战斗上。甚至其它的异虫也表现出对女主人安静地打上一场的愿望的尊重而不参与。

　　泽拉图跳向她，快要到近身的时候奋力一跃跳到她头上去，刀刃向下刺出。她的骨翼挡住了这次攻击，不住地挥舞，翼尖缠住刀刃并将之拨开。然后它们展开，翼尖放平准备从两边刺过去。但泽拉图扭过身躯，轻轻躲过这次攻击。他在她后面着陆，转过身来面对她，手臂上举，随时准备攻击。

　　太阳就在这一刻滑下地平线，阴影从地面上生长出来，将执政官包裹在里面。黑暗在他周围愈加浓厚，把他包裹起来，只剩一双闪亮的眼睛清晰可见。雷纳非常努力地去看，但看得出来的只有执政官的刀刃，闪着一团微弱的光，或者不如说只是比周围稍微淡一点的黑暗。即使那团影子干扰到了凯瑞甘，她也没有表现出任何相关的迹象。她只是旋转着冲向她的敌人，双翼如刀刃般斩出，切开了那团黑暗。一团邪恶的黄色光芒包裹住她的翼尖，驱散了阴影，留下了闪着微光的轨迹。

　　泽拉图也没闲着。他绕过了他的对手，在阴影中侧移。但这团影子似乎确实影响到了凯瑞甘，她并没对此作出反应。当他们平行的时候他再次攻击，一只手臂扫下，另一只则上移以控制她的翼刃。

　　这一击之下凯瑞甘愤怒而痛苦地尖叫，双翼本能的反应并卷曲，泽拉图被击飞到一边。他跌跌撞撞地后移，几乎无法立足。但他还是恢复了过来。骨翼刺向他，翼尖直指他的双眼，他则提起刀恰好格挡了这一下，双方的刀刃交叉在一起。他抓住下侧的骨翼并把它扳上来，把它和其他的部分捆在一起。这时，他的手臂完全伸展开，而那些骨翼还在他头上。泽拉图猛地将手臂抬起，刀刃直逼凯瑞甘未被保护的身体。

　　但他忘了另一侧的骨翼。凯瑞甘转过来面对他，那第二块骨翼在她身前卷成一个屏障，泽拉图的刀刃只是轻轻滑过。然后它们愤怒地展开，翼尖向下瞄准以刺穿他的手臂。雷纳感到执政官在痛苦地颤抖，意识到星灵遭受了一次精神攻击。现在凯瑞甘先前被扳上去的那一只骨翼也刺了下来，目标是执政官的肩膀。他被束缚在她的双翼之间，手臂活动的范围不足以使之进行攻击。凯瑞甘把他提起来，但又维持着一个安全的距离。

　　鲜血从穿孔处滴落下来。

　　“打得不错嘛，小星灵，”她承认道，一只手指慵懒地在骨翼上游走，舔掉滴落在上面的血液或者脓水。“比你的执行长朋友干得好。但我，是刀锋女王！”她前倾，两张脸只隔几英寸，“你打不过我的！”

　　“战斗并不只靠力量进行，”星灵告诉她，不再挣扎，“你确实很强大，但并非不可战胜。”

　　“我打败了你。”她指出，而泽拉图的回答只是一声轻轻的笑，身体随着笑声有一点点抖动。这样做似乎并不会伤到他的身体，至少执政官没有表现出这一点。

　　“你的确赢了这次战斗，”他同意道，“但这可只是我们的第一次战斗。下一次也许就不会这样了。”

　　“下一次？”凯瑞甘好奇地打量着他，雷纳可以看出她的迷惑。她已经把星灵控制住了，他无计可施，如同待宰的羔羊。“什么‘下一次’？你的生命结束了，小星灵。”她说道，一只爪子扫

　　过他的脸，在厚厚的皮肤上划出一道浅浅的沟纹。“我肯定会杀了你，你的生命到此为止。”她向后望了一眼，雷纳也看了看，在战斗开始后第一次看到整个山谷。异虫的尸体摆满了整个山谷，但星灵的尸体却也到处都是。泽拉图开始的时候也许有一百来个黑暗圣堂武士随行，但现在也许只有一半的数字了。而且，他们在数量上处于极端劣势。

　　“你的部队被彻底压制了，”凯瑞甘指出，重新看着泽拉图，“我的族群会一直杀到最后一个，就像我干掉你一样。查尔星将摆脱你的黑暗圣堂武士，还有你。那么，告诉我，下一次战斗将在什么地方，以什么样的方式进行？你们星灵的天堂或者类似的东西么？”

　　泽拉图似乎并不害怕他或他的手下此刻的处境。“你过于自信了，”他告诉他的监禁者，“这样的错误在年轻而强大的人身上是很正常的。但它会带来危险的后果，比如死亡。”

　　现在凯瑞甘的笑容转换成了皱眉，紧咬着牙齿。“不要对我说教！”她叫道，唾液星子四溅——雷纳注意到有几滴溅到了她的星灵囚徒身上，烧蚀了他的皮肤。“我不是弱者，不是未经受战火洗礼的年轻人！我是刀锋女王！我就是你的死亡！”

　　她的双翼互相向对方刺过去，试图刺穿泽拉图。

　　但就在她移动的时候，被她的光芒和最后的一点阳光所控制的阴影突然降了下来，就像一床厚重的杯子。泽拉图消失在里面，完全无法分辨出来。

　　凯瑞甘的双翼就这么刺过去，互相撞出格格的声响，完全不受上一刻还被她挟持的那个人身体的阻碍。

　　“不！”凯瑞甘的叫声在山谷间回响，声音之锐利足以击碎岩石。雷纳赶紧捂住耳朵，很肯定里面已经流血了，但仍然将目光锁定在下面的战斗上。泽拉图做了什么？一秒钟前他就像只被蜘蛛捕获的苍蝇；一秒钟后，他不见了。

　　那是他吗？雷纳觉得他在凯瑞甘旁边的阴影中看到了一团微光，闪亮的小点很像执政官的眼睛。在那下面他看到了另一团光，更长一些，像是他的能量刃。不过那也可能是幻视。他能确定他看到的，是所有的黑暗圣堂武士都随着他们的首领退入了黑暗，留下异虫一方在战场上向着阴影徒劳无功地攻击。星灵消失在了夜里。甚至那些倒下的战士都走了，以灵魂的形态。就好像这场战斗从没发生过，如果不考虑满地的异虫尸体的话。

　　“你们这些星灵懦夫！”凯瑞甘叫道，双翼在身后愤怒地舞动。它们的尖端上仍沾着泽拉图的血。“我战胜了你们两个，而你们两个都像被打怕了的狗一样滚了！站在这里跟我打！像个真正的武士一样面对你的失败和死亡！”没有回应。她转而向一块石头泄愤，双翼切进去，猛地散开，使那块石头碎成一团灰尘和石片构成的云雾。这也没有消除她的怒气，当她转向她的族群时有几只异虫被女主人的杀气吓得直往后退。雷纳也慢慢地后退，很高兴他在安全的山顶上。就算她看到了他，他可以跑，也许可以赶在虫群扑上来之前在下一座山谷里消失。至少他希望如此。

　　凯瑞甘仍然在咒骂她的星灵对手，侮辱他们的荣誉和勇气，但如果她指望这可以刺激他们跳出来攻击她，她显然用错了方法。在几分钟的语言攻击并把整个山谷都刻划过一遍之后，她放弃了。她站在那，胸部因激动而挺起，双手紧握成拳，双翼在她身后展开。雷纳发现他从未见过比此刻更美丽——或者更致命——的凯瑞甘。

　　“我们现在怎么办，主人？”一只领主问道，飘得离她近了一些，但很明智地躲在了她双翼的攻击范围之外。雷纳知道这是那个脑虫在通过他的手下询问。

　　“猎杀，”她咆哮道，“查尔是我们的。这些星灵不可能永远躲着。我们会找到他们，会干掉他们所有人。然后我们把它们的尸体放在最高的山上，让所有人知道违逆我的下场！”

　　“我们先搜索谁？”领主问道，“刚刚逃掉的那个还是我们之前战斗的那个？”

　　“同时。”凯瑞甘回答道，一股笑意浮上她的嘴唇。“召唤剩下的族群，”她指示道，双翼像一件大衣缠绕在她身旁。“全都找来。我们会横扫这个星球，摧毁任何胆敢站在我们前面的人。”她向上望，目光直指雷纳，雷纳知道这是在警告他。她知道他在这里！她刚才的警告意图十分明显：他和他的手下也不过只是一个类似于星灵的目标。

　　我必须得离开这里，雷纳意识到，在石头后面腾挪，我必须回到基地警告其他所有人。我们必须做好准备。凯瑞甘和我们所有人开战了。

　　但在他能够动身之前，他听到了一个充满敌意的声音。吱吱，咔咔，嘶嘶。那是尖刺和利爪以及有爪的足在石头上擦过的声音。异虫来了！他们正在从下一座山谷上来，目标显然是他。

　　凯瑞甘和她的异虫在他前面，后面的数量也只是越来越多。他陷入了绝境！

第十四章

　　雷纳试图寻找其他能作掩护的东西。但是这座小山上没有比他现在藏的更大的石头了。熔岩侵蚀了Char的绝大部分地表，勾勒出一副独特的地貌，这座小山也被像是变硬的果汁一样的熔岩覆盖着。它的质地并不十分坚硬—上次爬上来的时候他曾经把脚陷进去过—出于绝望，他解下了他的枪，开始用枪的前端在石头旁边的熔岩上挖洞。几分钟内他就挖出了一个小裂缝，里面掏成一个口袋状，把他自己塞了进去。他把自己圈呈球状以后刚刚好能藏进去，他的脑袋大概有一英寸左右露出在小山上。石头的影子落在他头上，他希望这能有点帮助。接下来没什么可做的了，他只有静静等待，祈求没有虫子能注意到他。

　　虫子的声音越来越近，他恨不得把自己整个都缩进地里面去，只要随便一只虫子注意到了他，它就会警告剩下的。他们会把他从地里刨出来，就像从他妈的菜园里拔出胡萝卜一样容易—他不敢再往下想了。

　　虫子们来到了小山上，他可以从身边熔岩的振动中感觉到它们的重量和动作。他不敢有任何动作，但脖子后面的刺痛提醒着他，他已经被发现了。

　　“脑虫，”他听到一只虫子嘶嘶作响，声音令人不安的靠近，“那是什么东西？就在—”

　　“达格斯！”虫子的询问被一声咆哮所打断，雷纳德立刻听出了这是谁的声音。凯瑞甘。从回音判断她还在山谷里。“你好，脑虫！过来跟我谈谈，你和你的氏族。我有个奇怪的发现。”

　　“我会的，刀锋女王，”脑虫回答道，它的声音带着奇怪的回声，雷纳德意识到它正在通过一只在山坡上的领主说话。当然了，那个臃肿的生物自己没法跑到地面上来。“我和我的人这就过去。”

　　虫子的嘶嘶声在雷纳耳边越来越响，随着他们翻越小山下到峡谷里而渐渐变弱。他对自己的幸运难以置信。刚才某个虫子已经注意到他了，他很肯定，它正要向其他虫子报告他的位置。凯瑞甘救了他。他慢慢爬出裂缝，藏回石头后面，他的心里感觉到了奇怪的挣扎。她知道他在那？这仅仅是个巧合，还是她故意的？

　　他再次向山谷里瞧去。山谷被凯瑞甘和达格斯的氏族填的满满的。凯瑞甘依旧站在靠近中间的地方，而达格斯的领主在她不远处盘旋着。

　　“塔萨达并不是Char上唯一的圣堂武士，”凯瑞甘告诉达格斯，她的翅膀抽动了一下，她已经等不及再次开始狩猎了。“另一个圣堂武士，泽拉图。”她顿了顿。“他有些不同，”她皱起眉头想了想，承认道。“不同于泰瑞萨或是其他任何我听说过的神族，当然也不同于任何虫族。他的力量更强，但很黑暗，十分黑暗。”接着她笑了笑。“尽管如此，他对我来说不算什么。他的诡计救了他，但仅此一次。我们需要—”

　　“等一下，我的女王，”达格斯打断了她，就算从雷纳德这个位置也能清楚地看到凯瑞甘的眼睛眯了起来。她从以前开始就不喜欢别人打断她，很显然现在也没变。“马上要有比追击那些神族更重要的事要做。”

　　她的翅膀轻微的卷起来，除此之外凯瑞甘没表现出她的不满。“什么事，达格斯？”他的声音中没有多少敬意，但已经比对待扎兹有礼貌的多了。很明显。她尊敬这个脑虫。

　　“是关于扎兹的死亡的事，”达斯指出。“之前从没有人能做到，切断了脑虫和圣灵的联系。我们必须分析他是怎么做到的以便将来有所对应。”

　　凯瑞甘表示同意。“是的，这确实是一个大问题。我们有什么收获了？”

　　“圣灵正在亲自研究这个问题，”达斯重复道。“它最近专注于此。很快它就会解开这个谜团。”他的声音变了，变得更平静，甚至于更满足。“至于扎兹的氏族，他们已经不是问题可。”

　　“很好。”凯瑞甘依旧放不下她一直在追杀的神族。“神族的飞船怎么样了？”

　　“我们已经摧毁了他们，”达斯向她保证，凯瑞甘惊讶的看着他。

　　“它们？”她问到，但紧接着她点了点头。“哦，没错，当然了。那些新的神族不是跟塔萨达一起来的，因此他们有自己的船。”

　　“两艘船都已经被摧毁了，”达斯重复道，雷纳感到一震心慌。他本来寄希望于塔萨达能把他们带离这个满是灰的星球。但现在神族自己也被困住了，泽拉图也一样—现在唯一能离开这的只有虫族了！

　　正在雷纳寻思替代计划的时候，一种奇怪的敲打声从天空中传来。一瞬间，所有虫族都安静下来，只有领主仍旧在空中游荡。在一片寂静中雷纳德想他可能是听到的是蒸汽喷出的声音要么就是远处火山喷发的声音。

　　突然寂静被一个恐怖的，滑腻的声音所打破，那个声音通过他的大脑传入他的骨头，让他浑身打颤，他睁不开眼睛也说不出话。这是虫族的主宰，圣灵。

　　“注意了，”他大声宣布，它的声音震动着山谷，“我从休眠中醒来，再次执掌全体氏族！”它的狂喜让人无法忍受，雷纳蜷缩起身体，害怕得抱住自己头。“狡猾的神族敢于挑战不朽的圣灵，”圣灵宣布道，它的每个字都像是对神族毁灭的宣言。“杀死扎兹的神族不像之前我们面对过的任何敌人。那些黑暗圣堂武士散发出的能量与我的非常相似。正因为这样他们能伤到我。”现在雷纳理解了，通过他自己的痛苦，为什么圣灵听起来非常愤怒。它丢弃自己的种群是不合理的。但在泽拉图杀死扎兹的时候同时也伤到了圣灵，这令它极为狂怒。

　　虫群共享了圣灵的狂怒，经管他们依旧保持寂静，但雷纳能感受到山谷里的紧张气氛。一旦圣灵解放它们，它们就会变成一帮疯狂的杀手。他知道他必须躲得他们远远的，他可不像成为他们的第一个牺牲品。

　　“但是，”圣灵在继续，但它的声调从愤怒转为了快乐，“他们的傲慢导致了他们的失败！”雷纳专心的听着，他很好奇也很恐惧什么能让虫族领袖这么高兴。“在那个刺客泽拉图暗杀了扎兹的时候，”圣灵宣告道，“我碰触了他的思想，从而了解他所有的秘密。”圣灵的声音变得激昂，它强大的力量就像一根长钉钉入雷纳德头部，他的血从鼻子和耳朵中涌出。（听圣灵说话真是危险…。好孩子不易模仿，话说回来，塔萨达的改造真彻底…直接能听懂虫子说话了……）“我从他的记忆里得知了神族的母星，Aiur的秘密位置！”

　　山谷里的虫族被这个消息搞糊涂了，雷纳能感受到他们的兴奋。它们能分享到圣灵的快乐，而圣灵现在正在狂喜之中。

　　幸运的是，圣灵迅速解释了他为什么这么高兴。“这么长时间过去了，我的孩子们，”它告诉它的虫群，“我们探索已经结束。很快我们将直接攻击Aiur！”

　　雷纳终于明白了。他记起第一次在Mar Sara上遭遇神族的时候，他们十分憎恨虫族。很明显虫族也是。虫族也同样憎恨神族，至少圣灵是这样—它每时每刻都在搜索神族的家园以便攻击并摧毁它。而现在，拜泽拉图的攻击所赐，圣灵知道了它的位置。

　　雷纳不知是该高兴还是该难过。就一方面来说，虫族从人类的居住圈离开是件好事。而神族有能力击退虫族—一个全是塔萨达和泽拉图这样的人的世界，在自己的地盘上战斗得有多强？但从另一方面来说，神族不会欢迎有人打到他们家门口的，而Zerg可没打算警告他们。他敢肯定，圣灵会立刻送去他这里所有的氏族，而且他也无法想象Protoss有足够的人数来对抗整个虫群。一旦Zerg扫平了Protoss，那又由谁来阻止它们呢？谁能从它们的侵略中保护人类呢？

　　但从现在他什么都做不了，他自己的问题还没解决呢。

　　“准备好，我的虫群，”圣灵命令。“我们马上启程前往Arui。”

　　“我想留在这里，父亲。”凯瑞甘开口了，这不令人吃惊，但就算是她自己的氏族也对她的傲慢感到震惊。“我还没解决塔萨达和泽拉图的事。”

　　“我希望你作为这次进攻的先锋，我的女儿，”圣灵告诉她，虽然它的声音听起来很平静，但它的命令是不容置疑的。但凯瑞甘没有退缩。

　　“这是我的荣幸，父亲，”她回答道，“如果您认为合适，我会高兴的接受任何位置。但必须有人惩罚这些胆敢踏入我们领域的Protoss，他们还杀了我们的兄弟。”她看起来对扎兹的死感到很遗憾，但雷纳可不这么想。他对她的演技表示敬佩。她表演的很完美。“我会亲手复仇，父亲。解决完这件事后我会去Arui加入虫群。”

　　片刻之间山谷里一片寂静。雷纳也是同样。（Y敢出声么？……下面有数以万计的Zerg呢…）所有人（厄…应该是虫）都秉住呼吸等待着圣灵的回答。

　　“很好，”他最终回答道，气氛立刻松弛下来。“你将留在这里，我的女儿，解决这件事。这件事结束后，无论如何我希望你来到Arui执掌这支部队的指挥权。”

　　凯瑞甘鞠了一躬，她的翅膀扫过了地面。“紧遵你的命令，父亲，”她的声音就像是一个顺从的仆人，但她脸上的微笑显示她很高兴能如愿以偿。

　　那个声音消失了，随着头上压力的减轻雷纳送了口气，而下面的Zerg再次开始了移动。

　　“你是否需要帮助？”达格斯通过它的领主询问凯瑞甘。但从他语气里听出他已经知道答案了。

　　“感谢你的盛情，高贵的达格斯，”她回答，“但我有能力独自清理这些好管闲事的Protoss。”她对他面前的领主点了点头。“你将加入虫群并准备好前往Arui。”这是个很明显的解雇。

　　脑虫并没有反击，要么他就是很好的隐藏了自己的感情。“很好”在他的氏族集结到他身边的时候他只说了这么一句话。雷纳蹲了下来，以便随时钻回到那个洞里去，但达斯的氏族从山谷的另一边离开了，他松了一口气。

　　“希望你的狩猎硕果累累，”在他的氏族消失在之前，它留下这么一句话。“尽快加入我们对Protoss家园的攻击中。”

　　“我不会加入，”凯瑞甘嘀咕道，她目视着其他氏族离开。“我会领导。”她的声音很低，但足够雷纳德听到了。

　　“现在，”在达斯氏族的最后一只zerg消失在视野后，她召唤她的氏族。“狩猎继续。”她转过身，扫了一眼小山，一瞬间她瞥了一眼雷纳躲藏的地方。“我的猎物不会知道什么攻击了他。”雷纳意识到她并不是在指protoss。

　　这足够了，他认为。快离开这，他从背面趴下小山值到他确认他不会被山谷里的zerg看到了。接着他滑下小山，直到落到小山底部并摔了个跟头。他迅速爬起来并开始玩命的跑希望躲得离zerg越远越好。他今天看到了很多也学到了很多。现在该死的是时候离开这了，在他的好运用光并被他们找到之前。如果他死了，他所得到的信息就什么用都没有了。

　　雷纳一边跑一边考虑今天发生的事。他看到塔萨达和泽拉图对抗凯瑞甘—而他们俩都失败了。他不敢相信他所看到的，但这并不是幻觉，虽然不切实际但却是真实的。他获取了许多关于Zerg的信息，他们首领的不朽，和他们新发现的弱点。他还发现了zerg最想得到的事：找到并摧毁protoss的母星。

　　很不幸的，同时他还发现，protoss的飞船都被摧毁了。或许他们能修理。或许，他寻思，它们的零件可以用在其他的上！Zerg没有工程头脑—它们可能在攻击飞船的时候并不关心的它的关键部位。或许他们只是造成了表面的伤害，或许没有伤到重要的部位，比如引擎。这值得去试试。

　　当然，这意味着和protoss谈判。和两拨人。至少塔萨达会听他说的，他泽拉图就不一定了。黑暗圣堂武士有点吓着他了，就像小时候听鬼故事一样。但是接下来，zerg比任何恐怖的故事更可怕，而他们是真实的。他很高兴自己和其他人在一起，厄运没找上他，他的人也远离虫群。

　　但是首先，他必须找先找到他们。

第十五章

　　“因此所有的异虫都走了吗？”

　　这是卡维兹在他和艾伯娜西听雷诺说完见闻后最先问的。雷诺没等到下一个夜晚，当他拖着身体回到营地时已经是黎明了，很快他便瘫倒在了帐篷里。他为他首先进入室内感到庆幸——这大概是他最后为领先他人一步能做的，也是他为了保持呼吸所能做的。雷诺在白天睡的像死一样沉，直到他听见有人在帐篷外摆放水壶和碟子的敲打声才再次醒来。到太阳落山的时候，他感觉到又像个人了。在找到两名副官前雷诺花了足够的时间洗脸。他甚至没有做梦，他太累了。雷诺惊奇的感觉到他很失落，他和凯瑞甘在一起的幸福幻想已经不复存在了，这着实令人沮丧。但与此同时令人欣慰的是很快他便开始憎恨再次经历它们。

　　“几乎全部，”雷诺马上订正了卡维兹的话。他们再次进入了穿梭机，他现在靠在一堵墙上，一杯冒着热气的咖啡正在手中摇晃。那香气与温暖如同他需要的一般恢复着他的能量。他没有坐下，因为他不能相信自己而再次倒退。“我们仍有一个巢穴值得担心，”雷诺警告他们。“而且它们只关心一件事——杀死在这颗岩石星球上的每一个非异虫生物。”

　　“但它们在追击星灵，对吗？”艾伯娜西坐在位子上问。“你提到过它们希望星灵被消灭。”

　　“它们的确在猎杀星灵，”雷诺同意道。“但这不意味着它们会单独留下我们。我认为如果它们同时看到了我们和星灵，它们会去星灵那。但如果它们只看见我们，它们会很乐意解决掉我们。”

　　“我们有战斗装备，”卡维兹指出，“我们能持续战斗。如果只有一个巢穴，我们将不必担心援军。我们能削减它们，甚至消灭他们。”

　　“我们能这么做，”雷诺同意道。“但那将以什么为代价？我们将失去多少人？”他摇了摇头。“如果我能，我宁可在不用战斗的情况下带这你们离开这个灰烬星球。”他快速的喝了一口滚烫的咖啡，露齿而笑。“当然，如果我们不得不战斗等待我们的将会是几场光荣的胜利。”

　　“我们现在干些什么，长官。”艾伯娜西看上去很焦虑，雷诺没有责备她。她是一个优良的战士与称职的领导者，但不确定的战斗总是很棘手。雷诺在这之前见过很多。给一个士兵一把武器和一个目标，他会做的很好。但告诉他一些不确定的像“证明你的价值”或是“保护这片土地”，他就会碰上麻烦。士兵需要细节，何时何地，谁，干什么。不幸的是，雷诺不能告诉他们这些。他没做过士兵——他过去是个执行官。他不得不思考他的脚步并在这些宽松的定义中创造属于他的细节。他得再次这样做。

　　“检查所有的机械，所有的物质，所有的武器和装备，”雷诺告诉他们。“开始囤积食物和水，而不是我们带不走的东西。把我们得到的东西分类放进小包，每个伞兵带着一个。我希望能在通知完的片刻准备好离开这。”它也许会去那，他知道。如果异虫污染了他们集中的穿梭机，那么就算他们有装备甚至也无法解决掉一个巢穴。他们最好离开后马上消失在群峰中，就像星灵做的那样。

　　对于他们，寻找星灵是第二顺位，仅次于他们的安全。“我们需要找到那些星灵，”雷诺自言自语道。“找到哪一边无关紧要，虽然我更希望是塔萨达。我已经见过他了，也许他不是最友善的，但起码他并没杀我。这对某些事很重要。”雷诺笑着对卡维兹和艾伯娜西说。“不要尝试偷他们的飞船，特别在他们比我们多的时候。我会叫他们让我们搭个便车的。”

　　“可他们双方的飞船都被毁了，”卡维兹提醒他。

　　“或许是，或许不是，”雷诺答道。“我们会检查它们，看看它们的损坏程度。我们也许有能力挽救一些部分。”

　　“即使这些飞船已经残破不堪，”艾伯娜西说道，“我们也可以把他们的引擎用作应急装置放进我们的穿梭机。”

　　他们在环视周围，想到了那个小逃生舱。它被保存了下来，降落的惊人的好，外壳还完好无损。一个引擎和一个机翼已经完了，另一个引擎也严重损坏了，但如果能装上星灵的引擎，也许能飞。

　　“值得一试，”雷诺同意道，“重要的事先做。我们去找星灵商量合作。”他注意道卡维兹在颤抖。“有什么问题吗？”

　　“我只是不愿去想与外星人的合作的情景，长官。”这位年轻的副官答道。

　　“我也一样，”雷诺承认道。“但现在我们需要有人帮我们离开这，如果是一条猛犬能帮我，我也会跟它睡在一起。”

　　“你认为他们会帮我们吗？”艾伯娜西在他们站起来准备走出穿梭机时问道。

　　“我不知道，”雷诺坦白道，一饮而尽剩下的咖啡。“不过我准备拿出我最好的礼貌与邀请。”

　　雷诺用了几乎一个星期才再次锁定了星灵的位置。为了躲避凯瑞甘和她的异虫，两队星灵都来到了地面上。雷诺好几次瞥见了星灵战士沿着山脊滑下，好几次看见他们静静的通过小火山，或者是看见他们穿越灰烬组成的沙漠。但每次都仅仅是一瞥，当他再看时星灵已经不见了。异虫显然一点成绩都没有，他不止一次的听见了凯瑞甘愤怒的咆哮，不止一次的看见了因她的发泄而刻上痕迹的岩石。雷诺让他的人保持全面警戒，四个全副武装的守卫始终坚守岗位。雷诺也穿上了战斗装备，他发现这样能更轻松的跟这些难以琢磨的外星人赛跑。

　　终于，在他站在一个高一点的山峰上扫视地平线时，一小块色斑抓住了他的眼睛。他用装甲的目标系统聚焦于那个区域来独立并且放大影像。当他看时那个微小的斑点扩大的详细到他足以清晰的看见。那是一个星灵战士，他注意到的颜色是肩甲发出的蓝白微光。现在他能看见蓝色在那之下，蓝色的衣物覆盖了腹部以下。那是塔萨达。

　　“我找到你了，”雷诺低语道。他从山顶上跳下，装甲的伺服系统轻易的吸收了震动，连奔带跳的跑向了这位现在被他的目标系统锁定的执行官。装甲能使他跑着穿越山地就像在海滩上漫步一样，在这几分钟里他关闭了所有的通讯。每次他翻过一个山峰或山脊时，他便会再朝塔萨达瞥上一眼，以确定这位星灵领袖没有离开。当他越靠近时他便看见越来越多的星灵聚集在那个山谷。看来雷诺显然找到了这位圣堂武士现在的营地。

　　他在只剩下一个山脊时放慢了步子，不希望惊扰到这些星灵。他们毕竟被异虫追捕着，并且将会把任何入侵当作一种威胁。雷诺的装甲让他更具威胁，但即使如此他仍不能保证他是否是一个星灵战士的对手——这当然不适用于他们全体。此外，他也并不是来战斗的。雷诺停下了一分钟来思考他来这干嘛。他想要交谈。他很确定塔萨达曾对他的情绪有过反应，并且准备在这做相同的事。对于星灵摧毁了他的飞船他仍有一点愤怒，不过大体已经不再如此。雷诺理解他们这么做的理由，并且认同他们。他曾做过同样的事。现在他下定决心给与他的人——那些幸存者——以安全。并且需要这些外星人的帮助。

　　确信他如他想要的那般平静与友好后，雷诺拖着自己爬上了最后一个山脊，并向下俯视山谷——正好看见最后一个星灵跳过对面的山峰。他们走了。

　　“噢——，不会再有下次了”他咕哝道。他飞快的跳下并冲锋穿过了山谷。雷诺跳到了远方最高的山顶上，清楚的看见了一群狂战士在前方不远处移动。他们的能量剑没有激活，看起来装甲也一样。但是由于他们的姿态和前进方向，雷诺确信他们正在前往战场。

　　“时机糟透了，”他告诉自己，并很快跟在他们后面。他想要交谈，很显然不会是现在，不会在他们进入战斗状态时。他们可能在雷诺说出一个字前就条件反射的杀了他。尽管如此但他无法承担再次失去他们的踪影的代价——那可能需要花上一周才能再找到他们，异虫可能随时会找到他的营地。他不能冒这个险。因此他玩起了捉迷藏，保持在足够观察、跟随以及撤退的距离，希望他们不会发现。

　　雷诺认为他偷偷跟在后面也许能助他们一臂之力。那会使他们确信他是一名盟友而更倾向于帮助他。是啊。雷诺越想越喜欢这个主意。他开始渴望上阵与异虫战斗，现在他又穿上装甲了。无论如何，为了他在大洞穴失去的人向异虫还击，更不用说那些飞船了。这将是一个好机会。他可以发泄他的失望，向异虫展示人类并不像它们想象的那样绝望，同时与星灵达成共识。一个完美的计划。

　　像大多数完美的计划一样，它无法避免接触敌人。

　　在这种情况下，敌人是最大的问题。因为当雷诺爬出石缝时，他看见在他上面不远的星灵战士在他们穿过一个广阔的高原之前减速了，他也第一次看见了他们的敌人。

　　他们不是异虫。

　　“向高阶圣堂武士，星灵执行官塔萨达致敬，”泽拉图召集他的黑暗圣堂武士环绕着他——他站在高原的末端，面朝圣堂武士来的方向。这个奇怪的星灵的精神声音依旧干涩，但这次缺少了泽拉图面对凯瑞甘时的力量。起码他的声音在雷诺发觉自己处在高原山脊边缘的有利位置并仰坐着观察时没有在他的脑海中回响。

　　“黑暗圣堂武士，”塔萨达回复道，在离他的对手几个身位远的地方停下。他的声音带着奇怪的迹象——那是厌恶吗？它与塔萨达与凯瑞甘说话或提起异虫时雷诺听到的语气不同。那更多的可以辨认出憎恨。而这声音带着的愤怒更少，但更多的是……痛苦？“我能感受到你的存在，”当他的狂战士立定在他身后时塔萨达继续说道，雷诺注意道他们的位置与那些黑暗圣堂武士相对应。他不知道他们是否是刻意这么做的。

　　“我是泽拉图，黑暗圣堂武士的执政官，”泽拉图向他宣布道。雷诺记得他曾用同一句话向扎兹介绍他自己，但是它们听上去那么不同。那是是敌对的宣告，那是一个勇士醒目的公告，大胆的将他的姓名和职位抛向他不共戴天的死敌。而现在听上去更温和，几乎是在道歉。若星灵是人类，雷诺认为泽拉图可能很尴尬，但雷诺同时为他的友善感到骄傲。

　　“我知道你的族人，”塔萨达答道，他的厌恶几乎非常明显。“你们是异端，被逐出了种族。你们被当作被咒逐的人。”他身后的气氛变的紧张了，他的战士蠢蠢欲动，手腕的周围也因为能量剑的预备而发光。

　　但泽拉图伸出了双手，手心向上摊开了手指，做出了明显代表和平的举动——又重演了与扎兹冲突的一幕，但它的意义似乎完全不同。雷诺观察过执政官与扎兹的对话，那此的这个动作更像一个拖延战术——一个机会来寻找下手的时机。但现在似乎是真诚的。

　　“我不希望与你战斗，我的兄弟，”泽拉图的呼喊贯穿了高原，当它发出时塔萨达后退了几步。“虽然你蔑视我，我们并未争吵。我们在这个世界这个战场上是盟友。我们的目标是相同的。你确定你了解吗？”

　　“我只是看见了另一个敌人，”执政官回敬了一个咆哮，他的手在两侧握紧。“一个腐蚀了圣堂武士的遗产玷污了我族荣誉的敌人。”他举起了一个拳头，蓝色在他的眼中燃烧，甚至比阳光更耀眼。“保护好你自己把！”

　　圣堂武士以此为号发动了攻击。

　　这是场奇怪的战斗。雷诺已经在同样的距离见过几次星灵的战斗。他观察过塔萨达和他的狂战士与凯瑞甘和她的氏族战斗，也观察过泽拉图那样做。两次他都对星灵的技巧、力量和速度留有深刻的印象。他们是一群勇士，天生的或是经过严酷训练的。不管怎样，他敬畏他们。观察星灵与异虫的战斗就像看着一个训练有素的剑士穿过一群暴乱的民众——剑士优美流畅的前进，精确的挥舞着他的剑，他周围的民众狂暴的乱冲，只会用数量与蛮力来淹没敌人。

　　但这次剑士面对着另一个剑士。更确切的说，两群剑士相遇了。

　　这是一场不可思议的展示。雷诺肯定他错过了太多，因为星灵的动作太快他实在跟不上。一个狂战士旋转着前进，如同舞蹈一般的进攻，他的武器发出了猛烈的攻击。能量剑在稀薄的空气中发出轻微的噼啪声，当能量偶然点燃了一些灰烬或烟尘时溅出了火花。一个黑暗圣堂武士飘浮着向前迎向这次攻击，流畅的挥舞着剑旋转着。闪光的剑伸展开了，两股能量相交了，蓝色与绿色相遇了，在阴影中落下的的光照亮了四方，使人眼花缭乱。然后双方拉开了距离，结果再次环绕、靠近、攻击。没有一次雷诺看见剑刃伤到了皮肤。每次攻击都对应着一次防御，每一个剑锋阻挡着另一个。这不是一场杀戮，甚至不是流血。它是一个舞蹈，一场展览，一次技巧与天才的艺术表演。

　　它太美了，对于雷诺这样成长伴随着残酷的现实与粗鄙的手段的人，这是对另一个世界简短的窥测。倘若一个种族的战斗变得非常艺术化、非常完美那会是怎样的呢？那将是一首诗吗？一个种族可以战斗而没有伤害，胜利却没有杀戮，仅用受伤来击败敌人吗？他甚至无法想象。

　　当他们的战士战斗时，两个首领静静的注视着对方。“你的战士训练有素，”塔萨达在几分钟后评论道，他的话语很犹豫，好像他在同他的决心做斗争。雷诺能在他的话中听从一点吝惜的尊敬。

　　“你的也一样，”泽拉图返还了一个赞扬。他点点头说，“你看见了吗？我们的行动相同，战斗相同，思考也相同。我们的方向是相同的。”他靠近了一步，声音更小了。虽然雷诺仍能清楚的听见。但好像这位执政官在耳语，分享友好的秘密一般。“我们只不过是硬币的两面而已，”他透露道，“我们所选择的路不同，但我们的目标，我们的真正的根基是相同的。你不这样认为吗？”

　　“不要企图用你的谎言动摇我，”执行官反驳道，他退后了一步来保持距离。“我学习关于过你的族人，了解你们是怎样背叛了我们的种族，怎样使我们的人民分裂，怎样切断我们之间的每一个联系。你们背弃我们，背弃了你们自己，背弃了星灵的一切！我们不是相同的！”

　　“回想这个古老的传说，”泽拉图怂恿道，又向前近了一步。“它们是你的祖先制造出来解释我们离开的故事。事情的中心有真实存在，但它们被埋入了大片的谎言。”

　　“不，”塔萨达又退了一步，顿了顿，“我不会听你说这些的，你无法使我腐化！”向泽拉图发动了攻击。

　　这次攻击太快了使得雷诺不能完整的看清它——雷诺看见这位星灵领袖的手臂猛然向前模糊了一些，瞄准了黑暗圣堂武士的胸膛，但他装甲的目标系统无法很清晰的显示。这一击简单但太敏捷太快速了。雷诺想他甚至能在山脊上感觉道这一拳产生的气流涌动，它无疑会像粉碎蛋壳一样粉碎执政官的胸膛。

　　但这一拳挥落时，执政官已经不在那了。

　　如果塔萨达的行动快如闪电，泽拉图的反应便迅似疾风。这次没有产生模糊，雷诺甚至没感觉到他在运动。执政官只是向左移动了而已，这甚至发生在比一眨眼更短的时间里。雷诺的双眼被牵动的设法调整黑暗圣堂武士在他脑海中记录的位置。雷诺很确定，尽管他也说不出所以然来。但这不是幻觉，就像塔萨达曾用同样的的招数来对付凯瑞甘一样。他只知道片刻以前执政官面对着塔萨达，而现在他去了另一侧。

　　“你的攻击很有力但是没有集中，”泽拉图警告着塔萨达。他声音里的某些东西告诉雷诺，若星灵有嘴，它将在微笑。“不要像这样无用的消耗自己，等待真正有利的时机，再聚集你的力量进行攻击。”

　　“不需要你来教我！”塔萨达咆哮道，他的话语奇迹般出自凯瑞甘在战斗时对泽拉图的反驳。他摇了摇头来使他清醒。并再次发动了攻击，他的动作甚至更快了，打击更加猛烈。他的拳头运动了不止一次而是三次，因为太快看上去好像是同时挥出的一样。他们整齐的排列在执政官胸膛的左右和中央。雷诺明白了这个行为的逻辑性。执行官希望封锁住他的对手，从他的闪避路线中命中任意一边。他希望至少有一拳能命中。

　　但它们无一做到。

　　泽拉图再次在第一击命中前潇洒的向左移动了——不知怎么地竟没用到他的下肢。他的身体只是离开了原来的位置出现在了现在的位置。然后他又回到了原位，在这时执行官的另外两次攻击无害的穿过了他的两侧。

　　“你的攻击仍未集中，”泽拉图说道，并稍微摇了摇头。“你用尽了全力，但是没有用你的心。这就是为什么你的攻击没能成为你最有力的武器。你不该一开始就猛烈的攻击，”他告诫道，他的手向外蛇行在这位执行官从他失败的攻击中收手前封锁住了塔萨达的手腕。“首先用你的心锁定你的敌人，”黑暗圣堂武士教导道，阴影在他指尖的下方涌现，召唤出暗带缠绕住了塔萨达的前臂。“但你的心锁定了你的敌人，你的拳头便会随着它运动，这样就不会再失败了。”

　　黑暗上升了，包裹到了手肘，雷诺可以感觉到执行官企图拉开它。塔萨达突然扭动了起来，一半因为痛苦，一半因为恐惧。这也许是这个强大的星灵第一次感到恐惧。然后恐惧消退了变为另一种情绪——愤怒。

　　“我受够你的干扰了！”他咆哮道，他的话语中明显夹杂的噼啪声使得泽拉图远离了他。塔萨达使手腕弯曲，蓝色弧状的能量开始在手腕周围摇曳，阴影被灿烂的光撕成了碎片。

　　“你用谜语使我分心，”他告诉执政官，此时退后了一步并将双臂举过头顶，闪光的圆弧在双臂间产生。“但我不会被你干扰的！”当塔萨达放下双臂时，闪光环绕在他的双腕周围，并扫向前方形成了他的战士手中挥舞的双剑。过了一会，剑更亮了，并发出噼啪声——这让雷诺毛骨竦然。他了解到这对剑没有被护臂包含或者说没用护臂创造。它们是塔萨达自身的一部分，他力量的一种体现。“现在，我们将会看到你谎言的终结，”塔萨达警告道，接着缓慢的向对手走了一步。“这将非常彻底，”

　　其他的星灵停止了战斗，注视着他们的首领。雷诺也锁定在他们的战斗上。他知道这场对决将会以某种形式成为史诗，成为星灵历史中的一部分。假设生还者会将它传颂下去的话。

　　当他移动位置以便仔细观察时，雷诺从他的眼角捕捉到了一阵尘土飞扬。他稍微转动来看清它，然后当场愣住了。

　　“噢——，太糟了，”当他明白看见了什么时低语道。他的头盔自动跟踪并放大了影像，使它无法被忽视。

　　它们是异虫。数量很多，大概是整个巢穴的兵力。

　　而且正朝这前进。

　　雷诺回头扫视高原，塔萨达仍展开能量剑大步走向泽拉图。星灵全都过于专注两人的战斗以至于没能发现虫群的入侵。他们会被屠杀。

　　“不好，”雷诺自言自语道。他站了起来，大步流星的向前。装甲的伺服系统指示他穿越高原与山脊间的接缝。雷诺在移动中取下了背后的来复枪筒，并拿在手中随身体摇晃。他屈膝来抵消跳跃的冲击，又迈了一个单步来保持平衡。

　　他发现自己面对着几打愤怒的挥舞着剑的星灵。

　　“停下！”雷诺大喊道，同时双手将来福枪举过头顶。“我不是你们的敌人！他们才是！”雷诺指着高原的另一侧，许多星灵转身注视——正好赶上第一波飞龙、腐蚀者、吞噬者来袭。

　　“武装起来！”塔萨达呼喊道，并立即将与泽拉图的争执抛到脑后。“重组！我的狂战士，让我们教教异虫同星灵作战意味着什么！”他的右臂几乎很缓慢的扫出一击，能量剑在他的头上划出圆弧将领头的吞噬者切成两段，并变的更长了。被切断的尸体掉进了他两边的岩石上。

　　片刻后，星灵便被封锁在战场里。雷诺跟他们一起。但从一开始，他就只能看着。

　　“他们太多了！”他向塔萨达大喊道。同时击毙了三只撕碎了一个星灵战士的飞龙。“我们无法把它们全部消灭！”

　　这位高阶圣堂武士要么没听见他说的，要么根本不在意。所以雷诺转向了泽拉图。“我们得离开这！”他怂恿道，他的一阵弹幕攻击消灭了一群自杀蝠，刚好避免了在高原上爆炸。它们在远处爆炸引起的轩然大波几乎颤动了每个人的双脚。“巢穴的其余部队来时我们将会被陷住！”

　　这位黑暗圣堂武士从离开塔萨达起就没动过了，而现在他似乎陷入了思考，最终他点头了。

　　“人类是正确的，”他平静的承认道。“这不是我们战斗到底的时候。我们必须放弃这个战场并寻找更合适的时机解决矛盾。”

　　塔萨达这次听见了，至少是转身凝视着执政官，就在他的手抓住了另一只飞龙并掐住了它的脖子的同时。“你要逃离战场吗？”他问道，双眼睁的更大了。

　　“你要待在这看着你的人毫无必要的死去吗？”泽拉图一针见血的反驳道。塔萨达的双眼缩小了，像是要再次攻击这位黑暗圣堂武士。然而在他移动前，执政官朝他跳了过来。

　　雷诺非常吃惊，当泽拉图飞快的向他前进，双臂展开形成了一条翻腾着灼热与寒冷的暗带时，塔萨达——这位高阶圣堂武士显然愣住了。雷诺把他的来复枪向上停住。他不知道为什么这样做，但直觉告诉他不要干涉。

　　在雷诺眨眼之前，执政官缩短了这段距离。他的肩膀撞向了塔萨达的胸膛，将这位执行官撞倒在地。

　　——就在这时一只飞龙发动了猛烈的攻击，它蛇形的长尾巴将酸液擦过了泽拉图的肩膀和胸膛——片刻前执行官的头所在的位置。结果血洒在了执政官和执行官身上。泽拉图很明显痛苦的颤抖着，但他拒绝倒下。他站了起来，更多的血从他的整个侧面喷了出来。接着转过身面对他的敌人——正在半空中转身准备发动第二次攻击。然后黑暗圣堂武士用手中的暗带切断了飞龙的弧形尾巴，这使得这只飞龙发出了痛苦的悲鸣。然而，这个行为几乎让执政官精疲力尽，在血泊中弯下了膝盖。这时塔萨达已经再次站起来了，步履蹒跚的摆脱了泽拉图冲击，回到了他的脚边。并在帮助受伤的黑暗圣堂武士站起来前用他的剑切碎了飞龙的剩余部分。

　　有一瞬间，他们互相注视着对方。圣堂武士与黑暗圣堂武士，闪亮的蓝眼睛与睿智的绿眼睛。然后塔萨达的手颤抖着从制服上撕下长条绑在了这位星灵长者的伤口上。当他这样做时双手涌现出耀眼的光芒，他放开双手后执政官的伤口仍旧严重，但不再流血了。完成后塔萨达点了点头，这令雷诺非常惊讶。

　　“你是对的，”高阶圣堂武士说道，“我们在这对敌人有利，留下只会导致我们的死亡。改变部署不会使我们失去荣誉。”他打着手势，他的战士集结在他周围，并在来的路上留下一堆堆异虫的尸体。泽拉图的黑暗圣堂武士也在他身后聚集，这让雷诺想到了一个圆一分为二的情景。而现在他在圆心的右边。

　　当雷诺正祝愿两位星灵领袖好运时他听见了另一个声音，一个更加熟悉的但是缺乏友好的声音回荡在山水之间。

　　“我冲你而来，小星灵，”话语到来时，声音在他的脑海中回响。“你们两个都是！圣堂武士与黑暗圣堂武士，执行官和执政官。再逗留一会我会给你们个痛快，如果逃跑我会把你们的痛苦延长道数小时、数天甚至永恒！”他无法确定声音的位置甚至方向，它们回响在所有的岩石间，但他知道她很近。

　　塔萨达静静的站着，好像要冒险留下战斗，特别是凯瑞甘叫他离开的现在。“我们将很快在战场上见面的，刀锋女皇，”雷诺听出了他的严肃与愤怒。“我会光荣的斩杀你来保护我的人民。”

　　凯瑞甘显然听见了，“你的人民？”她笑道，“看看你的周围，小星灵。这就是你全部的人了！”

　　“这是哪门子玩笑？”塔萨达向空气询问道，他的中放射着光芒。“也许我因为近来的行动而无家可归，但我仍是星灵，我的种族仍是宇宙的执法者！”

　　“不会太久了，”凯瑞甘回敬了一声啼叫，声音更大了。“虫群已经去了你们的世界，”她嘲弄道，“去到了宝贵的艾尔！到时候你的星球将化为灰烬，你的种族将被毁灭！”

　　塔萨达好像受到攻击一般眩晕了，他并不是唯一一个。雷诺看见其他的星灵也受到了冲击，他们或步履蹒跚或愁眉不展或是摇晃着脑袋。泽拉图和他的黑暗圣堂武士也受到了同样的影响。

　　“这不可能！”泽拉图向着群峰喊道。“艾尔对你的种族来说是隐藏的，它的地点至今是个秘密。”

　　“但对你来说不是，小星灵，”凯瑞甘回答道。现在她的声音似乎是从对面的上山传来。“你知道他的地点，不是吗？感谢你，我们现在也知道了。”

　　这次是执政官开始蹒跚着向后，一阵质疑像烟雾般离开他上升。这时塔萨达转身向他走来，高阶圣堂武士的眼睛因愤怒而缩紧了。

　　“你！”他的精神哭声等同于怒吼，当来自双眼间的精神呼喊波及到雷诺时，他退缩了。“你都干了些什么！”在这位高大的星灵走向他的同胞时，雷诺听见了一个特别的风声并很快的辨认了出来——那是凯瑞甘翅膀的锐刺切断空气的声音，她很近，太近了！

　　“一会再吵！”雷诺冲这个星灵大声嚷道，并站到了两位领袖之间用枪做出了一个离开的姿势。“让我们现在离开这！”

　　塔萨达瞪着他，又看了看泽拉图，这才点了点头——做出这个动作对他来说明显很困难。“我们一会再解决这个问题，”他同意道，然后转身带领着他的战士向安全的地方前进。泽拉图无声的与他同行，他的黑暗圣堂武士跟在他的后面。

　　“这就是你的选择吗？吉米？”凯瑞甘喊道，这次雷诺知道这句话仅仅在他的脑海里，但它无疑是真实的。“好吧，你会和你的新朋友们遭受同样的命运！”

　　“该死，”雷诺叹息道，转身跟在已经走向高原远端的星灵之后。“看上去你得继续跟我们在一起了，”当他追上塔萨达时向这位执行官说道。然后他瞥了瞥旁边的泽拉图。“嘿！看来我们都要一起了。”两个领袖看了看他，又看了看对方。

　　“你有很多问题要回答，执政官，”塔萨达通知泽拉图道，他的语气很明显他会亲自保证这位黑暗圣堂武士还清他欠下的债。

　　泽拉图并没有就这点争吵。

　　“也许吧，”他容许道。“如果她说的是真的，我愿意承担这个责任。说实话，把虫群引向艾尔是我最不希望见到的。”

　　有一瞬间他们再次注视着对方。绿色的双眼锁定着蓝色的。并同时点了点头。

　　“你承担了你的责任，”塔萨达陈述道。“至少，这是一个开始。”他看了执政官最后一眼。“在我知道此事的真相前，你不能离开我的视线。”

　　“我有义务同行，”泽拉图同意道，他的话语交织着他以前未显现的奇异力量。“因此命运之手将我们绑在了一起，不同的线终将交汇出更坚韧的织物。”

　　塔萨达带着少许神秘。“你及时的警告了我们，”他在跑步时向雷诺说道，“我们很感激，你和你的同胞可以与我们同行。”

　　在他打开通讯频道呼叫基地并叫他们转移时想到，他出发寻找着这两队星灵，希望组成联盟，他成功了。只是他不太希望是这种方式。

第十六章

　　“吉姆。”

　　凯瑞甘正在微笑着，大笑着，在远离他的的位置游荡着。他在后面追赶她，但她一直保持在他能所够到的距离之外，她燃烧的马尾随着她的奔跑跃动着。

　　“等等，”他大喊着，他一次又一次的试图抓住她，但他只抓到了空气。“回来！”

　　“不，”她回答，她转过身来面对他并在他冲向她的时候敏捷的往后一跳。“你做出了你的选择。”她的声音非常轻，她的嘴上带着嘲弄的微笑，但她的眼睛显出了她的悲哀，她非常的悲伤。她走到他身边用一根手指滑过他的脸庞。“现在你必须面对它了，”她喃喃道，她的双唇靠近他的，她的嘴如此之近他几乎可以感觉到他们的皮肤的接触。紧接着一阵灼热的疼痛滑过他的脸颊，他蹒跚的退后，本能的捂住了痛处。她的指甲不知什么时候变成了一只又长又尖的爪子，她就是用它们割伤他的。他看着她一边后退一边舔舐着血液，他颤抖着看着她的脸，在她的眼睛里他看到了饥渴。

　　“是时候醒过来了，吉米，”她缓缓地告诉他。“是时候面对你的末日了。”

　　他惊醒过来，痛感依旧留在他的脸上。

　　他们加入星灵已经过了两周。最开始的几天是最糟糕的。

　　“带所有人离开那，”他通过通讯系统告诉Cavez和Abernathy。“立刻行动。”

　　“是，长官，”他们同时回答，他能听到Abernathy喊出命令的声音。而Cavez依然在线。“我们去哪，长官？”她问道。

　　“这真是个该死的好问题”雷纳承认。“现在我TM不知道。”他摇摇头。“让所有人向山里移动，你们一出发就通知我。那时我会有更好的主意。”

　　他们只能往山里去。自从从凯瑞甘那里逃出来，就再没有星灵说过话了。这真是一幅怪异的景象，他们在完全的沉默中在Char的环形地貌中穿行。偶尔他能听到在他后面传来零散的细语，听起来就像是风穿过树林，他估计他是不经意听到了星灵们的讨论—在狂徒们或是黑暗圣堂武士之间的讨论，他不能听全，所以他也不能确定。那两支队伍完全没有走在一起，狂徒们呆在他的左边而黑暗圣堂武士在他的右手，跟随着他们值得尊敬的领袖，他一直认为他们最终会分开行事。这就留给他一个难题—他该跟着哪边？他对塔萨达了解的多些，他们曾经直接交谈过，而且他觉得执政官更加直率，而泽拉图知道如何杀死脑虫，从这点上来看雷纳想跟他在一起。幸运的是现在还没必要决定—就现在来看那两个人要一起行动，虽然他们并不交谈甚至看都不看对方一眼。雷纳真想吹个口哨以缓解缓解紧张气氛，但他还是忍住了。

　　接下来的情况变得更糟了。

　　“长官，我们遭遇zerg！”雷纳刚刚回应呼叫，就听到Cavez通过comm对他大叫。

　　“你们现在在哪？”雷纳也大声吼道。他能听到那边的高斯步枪的反击声，嘶嘶声，噼啪声与惨叫声混合在一起。他来了个急刹车，他的装甲及时纠正了姿势，星灵们也立刻停下了。

　　“我们还在飞船那，”Cavze报告，他听起来有些窘迫。“收拾物资比我们想象的要花时间。紧接着zerg突然从周围出现了。”

　　“坚守，”雷纳一边下命令一边用他装甲上的搜索系统定位营地的位置。“不要试图逃走--它们会把你们分割包围。集中在飞船边上，有装甲的步兵站在前面，守住堡垒。我在赶往你那的路上了。”

　　他一关闭通讯就转向两位protoss指挥官，他们在他通讯的时候静静地在旁边看着。“它们正在攻击我的人，”他急切地解释道。“我们必须把他们救出来。”

　　他已经准备好来一场争论。但这并没有发生。“照顾好自己的队员是指挥官的责任，”塔萨达同意道。“你必须立刻前往。”接着，或许是从雷纳吃惊的表情要不就是他心里的疑问中读出了什么，执行官抬起了他的头，他的眉毛弯曲起来作出了一个幽默的表情。“我们已经与你结盟，”高等圣堂武士向他保证，“我们会在这次救援行动中帮助你。”

　　“太好了。”雷纳终于松了口气。他瞥了一眼没有说话的泽拉图。“那你呢？”

　　执行长耸了耸肩。“我们生死与共。”他回答道，这句话已经足够了。雷纳转过身全速冲向他的基地，而两组星灵跟随着他。

　　就算是有着他装甲的帮助和星灵天生的速度，他们也花了一个小时才到达飞船。在他翻越最后一座山之前他听见了战斗声，这至少意味着他的人至少还活着还能够战斗。紧接着他看见了飞船。第一眼看上去它就像是被奇怪的皮革和骨头装饰起来，零星的钉子和角从它的各个部分伸出来。他的盔甲很快过虑了影像。他看到虫群包围着飞船，而他的人坚守在飞船周围。

　　“我们进来了！”在他翻过小山并穿过飞船前的山谷后，他冲他的comm喊道。“射击时小心！别误伤我们！”他边跑边端起他的步枪。

　　他冲向那里，并把一打子弹打向了一个试图用前抓切开飞船的侧面的雷兽。那个巨大的虫族倒下了，压扁了几个在它身下的小狗。剩下的氏族把目标转向雷纳，给了他的伞兵一个喘息的机会，但对他来说就不那么妙了。

　　但几秒钟后那些虫子就完全把他忘在了脑后，因为两组星灵突然袭击了他们。

　　这是一场短暂的战斗。很明显，凯瑞甘只派出了她氏族的很小的一部分，只有少量的雷兽和守护者跟随着一些飞龙，刺蛇和吞噬者（这个是啥？空中重龙么？），或许还有30只小狗。他们到达时就这只有这么多，无论如何—他很欣慰他的人在他们到达时已经放倒了几乎一半的攻击者。星灵们在剩下的异虫身上只花了很少的时间，能量剑切开了他们厚厚的甲壳把他们的锐利的前肢削下来。10分钟内，剩下的攻击者就全被干掉了。雷纳爬进飞船清点损失。Cavez正在等着他。

　　“对不起，长官，”他的副官这样开场，而雷纳拒绝了他的道歉。“我们本应该在在你下达命令后立刻行动的。”

　　“那样的话它们就会在开阔地把你们逮住。”雷纳安慰他，他注意到Cavze的右上臂全是血。“在这战斗要比较好。为什么你没穿装甲？”

　　Cavze耸了耸肩。“我觉得其他人更需要它，”他承认。

　　“大错特错，”雷纳把他顶了回去。“你是他们的指挥官。这意味着你必须在他们需要的时候帮助他们。你是最需要装甲的那个人。没有它你对你的士兵来说只是个累赘。下次注意。”

　　“是，长官！”年轻的伞兵立正并敬了一个礼，雷纳回应了他一个微笑。该死，Cavze让他想起了Mut（这位仁兄刚刚还在星际2中出了场…）！他想起这名年轻的飞行员还有休伯里安（为啥都喜欢叫这个名字…。），这让他冷静了些。

　　“好吧，好吧，”他说。“你至少还活着，也不算是不能补救。下次记得穿上能量装甲就是了。”他瞧了瞧了周围。“Abernathy人呢？”

　　Cavez避开了他的视线。“死了，长官。Non受了伤而她想把他拉回船上。一个异虫刺穿了她的胸口。我看见她倒了下去。”

　　雷纳点了点头，但突然他意识到了什么。“等等，刺穿了她的胸口？”Cavez点了点头。“那只虫子有没有切开她的盔甲，把她切成碎片？”

　　“长官？”

　　他意识到Cavez还很年轻，他在Char之前并没有参加过几次战斗，特别是对抗异虫的。幸运的是，他有经验。“她的盔甲在她倒下的时候还很完整？”他又问了一遍。

　　Cavez停下来想了想。“是的，长官，”他最终回答。

　　“那只虫子继续攻击她了吗？还是就把她放在那不管？”

　　“都没有。”Cavez骄傲的回答。“我把它放倒了，长官—正中喉咙，干净的掀掉了脑袋。”

　　“好样的。”雷纳激活自己装甲的目标搜索系统，下令寻找损伤的盔甲。它显示出8个—两个在飞船里，5个在外面，还有一个比较远。“上来。”他已经准备好跳跃，在他定位坐标的时候Cavez一个助跑，爬上了他的盔甲，蹲在盔甲的后面。

　　Cavez的记忆很准确，他立刻看到了。Abernathy的胸口受了一击，损坏了盔甲的马达可能还有其他系统。没有动力驱动装甲的话它就会倒下并变成铁疙瘩一块，失去它的防御作用。幸运的是，在那个异虫能造成更多伤害之前Cavez给它了一枪。而剩下的虫子很显然对还在反抗的目标比较有兴趣。除了胸口的窟窿，雷纳没发现其他什么伤痕。虽然异虫轻易切开了盔甲防御，割开了金属，塑料以及电路，但他没有看到血。

　　“帮我一把。”他对Cavez说，蹲下来摸索着盔甲的紧急按钮。他自己的盔甲的手指开枪没问题但对于细致动作还是不太擅长。他只能按到两个按钮直到Cavez把一侧整个打开。

　　最终他找到了剩下的，并把盔甲的前端完全拆了下来，仍到了一边。

　　“那个，真是段血腥的经历，”Abernathy说道，她坐起来，破碎的金属和电路从她的盔甲里冒出来。她对他们两个一笑，而雷纳也以笑容来回应她。“有没有留两只给我？”

　　“不必担心，”雷纳向她保证，他站起来并把她装甲剩下的部分扛到他的肩上；零件还可以再利用。“下次我们会把他们都留给你。”

　　Abernathy并不是唯一幸运的人，除她之外还有3个人回到了飞船，他在之后点了名。他们在这次战斗中损失了10个人，3，4个人受了伤。考虑到异虫的数量和速度，他们真是TM太幸运了。

　　“集结你的战士，”过了几分钟塔萨达对他说道。星灵们在飞船周围布成一个圆形，狂徒们在一边而暗黑圣堂武士在另一边，警戒着第二次攻击。“我们必须转移了。”

　　“我必须埋葬牺牲人的。”雷纳告诉他，执政官看着他，眼里露出不可思议感觉，但他没有让步。“我不能就把他们放在这里任他们腐烂掉。”他坚持道。“这是他们应得的待遇。”

　　他跟星灵对峙了一会，最终塔萨达点了点头。“很好。我们会保护你直到你准备好了。”

　　泽拉图没有干涉甚至根本就没靠近—雷纳看见执行长跟他的战士站在一起，警戒着地平线上异虫的动静。看起来他仅仅是跟着塔萨达，他完事了他也就跟着走。

　　地面并不十分坚硬，几英尺深的灰尘和碎屑铺在上面，他们轮流工作很快就挖好了10个坟墓并把尸体放了进去。McMurty是个牧师，雷纳让他做了一段短祈祷，接下来他们填上了坟墓并把死去人的装备重新分配好。

　　“好了，我们走，”雷纳告诉塔萨达，他点了点头。雷纳再次听到了一阵轻微的细语，狂徒们靠近了他们的领袖并列队。在飞船另一边的泽拉图也听到了或是看到了命令，他黑暗圣堂武士也向他集中过来。雷纳向Cavez和Abernathy点了点头，他们大声地下令，很快所有人都开始移动了，人类的队伍将两组星灵分割开来。

　　“我讨厌离开它，”Cavez承认，他跟在雷纳的一侧并回头望向空空的飞船。“看来我们还得在这呆上很长时间。”

　　“那对我们来说不是什么好地方，”雷纳指出，这是事实。异虫已经把飞船的翅膀砍成了几块并在上面咬了好几个大洞。就算他们从星灵的飞船那得到了引擎，他们也必须在起飞之前把飞船上的洞填上。“那是个太明显的目标。”

　　“现在我们去哪？”Abernathy在他的另一边向他询问。她换上了另一件能量装甲，Cavez也是，他们三个带着Deslan，McMurty和其他一些人走在最前面。Ling，Non和三个装甲士兵掩护着队尾，剩下的4个人守卫着两翼，把那些没有装甲的士兵包在中间。

　　“不知道，”雷纳摇了摇头。他只是跟着塔萨达和泽拉图，而他们还没告诉过他。“嘿，我们要去哪？”他问到。

　　“找一个安全的地方宿营，”塔萨达头也不回的回答道。

　　“哦，很好，谢谢。”雷纳盯着他，但执行官即不注意也不关心。“那是哪里？”

　　“等我们到了你就知道了。”含糊的答案。泽拉图则什么都没说，雷纳有点发火的回到他的副官那。

　　“他们有点害羞，”他告诉Cavez和Abernathy“我猜我们到了那就知道了。”

　　“为什么我们又跟他们在一起了？”Cavez问到，他在看着在他们旁边无声行进着的星灵战士的时候有点发抖。“我们是不是离开他们单独行动比较好，让异虫继续找他们去。”、

　　雷纳摇了摇头。“我最开始也这么想，”他承认，“因为那时异虫并不在乎我们。但是现在我们也成了他们的目标。所以我们最好呆在一起。”他看出了Cavez脸上的反感。“你不必喜欢这件事，”他告诉年轻的伞兵。“我并不是要你们去喜欢他们。只是把他们当盟友对待就行了。”他笑道：“我觉得星灵比杜克将军强多了。”

　　他们一共走了4个小时，到达山脉中用了两个小时，而后他们就在群山中穿行。塔萨达走在最前面，他一次都没有停下来过—雷纳说不准他是否来过这里。他所选择的路全都是在两座山峰之间的狭窄通道，都是些隐藏在绝壁之下的小河谷。一股小溪从对面的山里流过来形成一个小水池。

　　“就这了。”高等圣堂武士就说了这么多，他的战士随即盘腿坐下，跟雷纳之前看到的姿势一样。泽拉图的战士也是，没有一个星灵战士吃或喝东西，或是脱下他们的装甲，几分钟内，山谷就是像被一群星灵雕像所充满。

　　“好吧，”雷纳边说边从他的装甲里走出来。“我们就在这里宿营，”他指着绝壁下面的一块地方。“安排一个警卫以防万一，不过我相信星灵也会保持警惕的。”他巡视了一遍他的人，他们正在卸下包裹并放下武器。“我不知道我们会在这呆多久，”他告诉他们。\"所以不要太放松了，吃些食物，灌满你的水壶，我想知道我们还剩下多少弹药和补给。

　　他的人投入了工作，他们支起帐篷，检查装备并很快吃了一顿快餐，雷纳和他的两名副官则开始讨论他们下一步的计划。不幸的是他们并没有多少能讨论的。

　　“要是知道他们怎么想的就好了。”Cavez小声说道，他竖起大拇指指着那些一动不动星灵。“我们现在只能跟他们这么呆在一起吗？像小弟一样。”

　　“是的，差不多久是那样。”雷纳回答，他拿起Ling更给他的水壶并喝了一大口。水又凉又难喝，带着一点尘土。“好消息是，比起以前，我们现在有差不多三倍的战斗力并一起对抗异虫。坏消息是，他们之间并不友好，并把我们扔在一边。所以别指望一起吃饭或唱歌了。”

　　“那么，我们是去猎杀异虫还在在这等它们来找我们？”Abernathy问道。雷纳没法回答，只能摇了摇头。

　　“我没主意，”他承认。“我不知道周围坐着的这帮家伙怎么想的。”他补充道，他瞧向就像一座雕像盘腿坐在水池边的塔萨达，泽拉图则像一块纪念碑一样驼着背站在山谷入口的不远处。“所以说只要我们在这耐心等几天没有自己跑出去，他们说不定就会去跟虫群干架。”他摸了摸他的下巴，凯瑞甘在梦中刮伤的地方还在发痒。“虽然不知得等多少天就是了。”他拍了拍Abernathy的背和Cavez的肩膀，并站起来。“现在我们最需要的是休息。”

　　雷纳的预言一点没错。他们在谷中坐了两天，什么都没做。星灵就向他之前窥视的到的那样整天一动不动的坐着，偶尔起来活动并作一些练习。塔萨达和泽拉图跟他们的战士一样，偶尔起来活动一下但并不靠近彼此。塔萨达看起来故意无视了泽拉图，但有一次雷纳捕捉到了他看向泽拉图的目光，其中的迷惑超过了愤怒或者厌恶。而执行长并没有掩饰他的兴趣，每次他们醒来后他都会专着的看着塔萨达几分钟，但也并不跟他说话或者靠近他。俩组星灵都忽视了他们中间的人类，必要的时候经过他们身边但并不跟他们说话。

　　而他们自己的队伍，雷纳的部队有的人缝合自己的伤口，有的人调整盔甲的传动装置，另一些人则玩起了纸牌，雕刻石头，打打拳击或是其他什么士兵在休息时间做的事。所有人都盯着他们周围的外星人，每次有星灵站起来活动的时候总有几个士兵忍不住跳起来。雷纳无意中听到一些嘀咕比如“现在把他们都杀光我们会安全点。”还有“他们过不了多久就会把目标转向我们。”更有甚者“他们跟异虫是一丘之貉。”还有其他类似的话，最终他决定说些什么。

　　“我知道他们很怪异，”他在第二天早上把他的伞兵集中起来。“我知道他们的头他们的眼睛，他们没有嘴，这一切看起来很有意思。而且当然了，他们并不十分友好。”在他讲话的时候他把他们挨个巡视了一遍确保每个人都在听。“但他们不是敌人。他们不是异虫。如果他们是，我们早就死光光了。”他喘了口气。“听着，这些家伙都是些卓越的战士。你们见过他们战斗。并且他们比我们还恨异虫，只要我们不排起队来跟他们跳舞，他们就还当我们是盟友。所以我们只需要无视或者接受他们的怪异，好吗？”只有几个人点了头。“好吗？”所有人都点了头，他还听见几声是的。“很好，你们没必要去喜欢他们，”他重复了他对之前对Cavez说过的话。“他们还在站在我们这边就值得庆幸了，不要碍他们的事就好。”

　　“如果他们一直那么坐着，这没啥问题。”有几个人大声喊道，所有人都笑了，包括雷纳。

　　“没错，他们很擅长打坐，”他表示同意，但紧接着一阵骚动让他停止讲话向伞兵们身后看去。所有的星灵都站起来，高等圣堂和黑暗圣堂一起，他们正向山谷的入口走去。

　　“出什么事了？”他向正在向他大步走来的塔萨达喊道。他们站在两只队伍之间，泽拉图也突然出现在他身后。雷纳惊讶于执行官的出现，但塔萨达却没有。

　　“我们必须寻找另一个避难所，”塔萨达解释道：“虫群靠近了。”

　　“这么说我们只能躲着它们跑？”雷纳问道：“我们不能跟他们打一仗么？”

　　“它们比我们多得多，”塔萨达回答：“我们不可能在这种条件下存活下来。”

　　“我们不能就这么让他们撵着跑。”雷纳坚持道，他踏前一步在执行官想离开前挡住了他。“我们至少应该削减他们的数量，如果我们每次跟他遭遇的时候都能干掉一些，过不了多久就能把他们消灭。”

　　“人类是正确的，”泽拉图开口了。“虽然我们现在正面交战并无胜算，但我们可以打一些小仗以减少异虫的数量。”

　　塔萨达对黑暗圣堂皱起眉头。“你想去战斗？”塔萨达问道，雷纳能听出他声音中的惊讶。

　　泽拉图点了点头。“我们可以移动到山谷的上面去，在那个高度我们可以掌握主动权迅速攻击并撤离，重创它们并造成混乱。”

　　执政官并不掩饰自己眼中的好奇。“我被教导的是暗黑圣堂武士都是些懦夫和无能者，”他过了一会说到：“而你两者都不是。”

　　“教导视老师而定，”泽拉图指出，雷纳哼了一声，执行长并没有在乎。“因此课是老师教的，并不是没有偏见的事实。”

　　塔萨达把头偏向一边。“可能吧，”他最终说到，“我会通过你和你的人重新评估我的看法。”

　　“理智的思想会自己寻找答案，”泽拉图同意道。“胜于仅仅拷贝别人的看法。”

　　“两位，我并不想打断你们，”雷纳这时插了进来，“但是现在异虫正在接近这里，我们最好动动自己的屁股。”

　　两名星灵同时转来身来看着他。

　　“确实”泽拉图就说了这么多，但雷纳可以肯定他很开心。接着两名星灵领袖转身回到自己队伍里去而雷纳也跑回自己的部队做好准备。

　　这是个伏击的好地方。他们都移动到山谷上面，星灵和人类一起隐藏在岩石和雪中。泽拉图和他的暗黑圣堂武士对此有明显的优势，他们几乎和背景融为一体。大概十分钟后，他们听到了代表异虫接近的嘶嘶声。雷纳和他的人开始检查武器。

　　就像是对飞船那场攻击一样，只有很少一部分凯瑞甘的氏族参与了这次攻击，她本人并没有出现在视野里。这或许是最好的情况。这批异虫全是陆军，小狗，刺蛇和雷兽，这使得这件事更加容易—一场没必要对付飞龙和其他飞行生物的从上而下的伏击战。就像期望的，异虫们冲进了山谷，意图屠杀他们的猎物，但随即它们发现山谷是空的并在困惑中停下了。

　　这正是雷纳，塔萨达，泽拉图所等待的机会。

　　这是一场短暂而血腥的战斗。星灵能量剑和人类的高斯步枪同时呼啸起来，异虫们发现它们的退路已经被切断而它们假想中的猎物正把它们围在中间。几分钟内，异虫尸横遍野。

　　“剩下的氏族将会很快赶来。”塔萨达警告道，他跨过一只刺蛇尸体，它在接近Non的时候被他一刀两断。“我们必须转移要么就面对他们的全部。”

　　“是时候闪人了。”雷纳同意道并集结起他的人。他们没损失一个人。星灵也是。

　　“有点意思了。”在他们离开山谷，跟着塔萨达开始寻找另一个落脚点时，Cavez开心的说道。

　　“跟星灵一起工作并不是那么坏，不是么？。”雷纳戏弄了他一句。他的副官看起来有点窘，但还是露出了笑容。

　　“确实如此。”他回答。

　　这第一次出击奏响了反击的序曲。接下来的一周里，他们每找到一个营地就会呆2天至两小时不等。异虫会找到他们，或者徘徊到附近的地方。塔萨达，泽拉图和雷纳会为他们布置一个陷阱，消灭那些小股的部队或者从大部队中切割一部分。人类和星灵在一起战斗，短暂的交火后他们会在凯瑞甘带领她氏族的其他部分来之间放弃那个地方。他们一点一点削弱她的氏族并避免跟她本人交锋，雷纳知道这会让她发疯。

　　星灵对人类并不热情。每到一个新的营地他们就会变成石像模式，偶尔活动一下并喝水（原文如此…别问我他们怎么需要喝水了）。但是在第一次战斗之后，雷纳的人证明了他们的价值，虽然那些战士对他的伞兵并没有表现出更多的尊敬，但他们也稍微学会了如何在一起战斗。星灵是令人恐惧的战士，他们就像人类在战斗装甲中一样强壮，快速，他们的能量剑非常致命，但他们只能在近身战中起作用。（狂徒加甲160血…人类小兵50血…这怎么能比…）雷纳的人装备有高斯步枪和瞄准系统，能够进行长距离的攻击，这意味着他们能先行削弱敌人的数量并提供火力支援。两组人开始领会到如何发挥各自的擅长的优势，每经历一场战斗他们就能提升一点他们的团队合作。大多数星灵战士仍然不与人类交谈，但他们可以指出一个异虫目标或是仅仅闪到一边以便伞兵瞄准它。

　　就雷纳自己的队伍来说，他们开始习惯于与外星盟友相处。星灵依然很奇怪和冷淡，但所有人都觉得他们在战斗中该死的太有用了。在星灵不止一次从异虫的攻击中救出人类后，伞兵在他们周围显得放松多了。毕竟，如果你想杀一个人何必费功夫去保护他呢？现在他们知道星灵真的把他们当作盟友来看待，不是仅仅是不想杀他们而是想帮助他们存活下去。这有着巨大的不同。现在伞兵们不用时刻确认星灵的位置而能安心睡个好觉，或者安静的经过一个不动的星灵身边或是在他们附近坐下而不担心被攻击。所有人最终接受了星灵并他们不是敌人，这让他们心里操心的除了异虫还是异虫。

　　狂徒和暗黑圣堂们就不那么好合作了。他们依旧独来独往。他们在驻地依旧分割开来并且只接受他们令人尊敬的领袖的命令。但他们并没有互相争斗。暗黑圣堂武士看起来在对待他们合作伙伴的态度上要放松些，他们敬重他们的圣堂武士同胞，带着一点兴趣或许还有点谦卑。狂徒们依然对暗黑圣堂的们的黑色皮肤带着谨慎，但他们对暗黑圣堂的技艺表示尊敬并且逐渐接受了暗黑圣堂不会攻击他们的事实。

　　而那两个星灵领导者就不像他们的战士那么沉默寡言了，雷纳花了许多时间跟他们在一起，特别是跟他们两个同时在一起。塔萨达和泽拉图现在不再花那么多时间在冥想上，他们经常坐在一起，静静的交流—用一种雷纳不熟悉，可能是心灵感应的方式—也可能他们只是静静的坐着。只要有时间雷纳就加入进去，他们两个人间的互相感应和两方对他的友好感觉迷住了他。

　　两名星灵性情迥异。塔萨达是个彻头彻尾的战士，直率并且诚实。他从不耍诡计，尽管他是个卓越的战略家并不忌讳使用骗术和伏击。其中的区别在于塔萨达看起来不会说谎。他忠于自己的战士和人民，就雷纳看来，他是个狂热的爱国者，随时愿意为自己种族的荣耀和繁荣献身。

　　但是塔萨达不仅仅关心自己的人民。当他们在一个营地坐了一整天后，他转头看着雷纳，而雷纳从他的凝视中感觉到了愧疚。泽拉图也发现了这一点。

　　“你觉得愧对人类。”执行长柔和的评论道，但随即他纠正了自己的观点。“我搞错了问题的本质。”他承认。“你因人类而惭愧，但是是愧对自己的人民。”

　　塔萨达惊讶起来并盯着年长的星灵，有那么几秒雷纳以为圣堂武士要再次开始攻击，尽管泽拉图暗示过他们是同族并且塔萨达自己的感情也不那么确定。过了几秒，无论如何，执行官耸了耸肩并移开了视线。

　　“是因为我的船么？”雷纳问道。他很早之前就接受了星灵之前在Char上空那么干的原因。虽然他还在为他的人忧伤但他已经理解了。如果他处在塔萨达的立场上他也会做同样的决定。而泽拉图代替他回答了。

　　“这件事做得无可厚非。”执行长提醒他。“既然已经不可挽回，下决断是正确的。”

　　泽拉图并没有提到他对这件事知道多少，但塔萨达最终再次转过身来看着雷纳。“我被赋予的命令，”圣堂武士沉重的解释道，“是摧毁所有被虫族感染世界。”

　　“就像你在Mar Sara做得那样。”雷纳说道，而圣堂武士点了点头。

　　“不论感染程度一律摧毁，”他解释道，雷纳感到一震寒意遍布他全身。

　　“有多少？”雷纳要求回答，他跳了起来。“有多少星球因为异虫的侵蚀被判了死刑？异虫非来这里不可吗？”他盯着星灵指挥官的眼睛等待着回答。“你们认为把我们杀光就安全了？”

　　“是的，”泽拉图回答，再次回答了年轻星灵看起来不能也不愿回答的问题。“这就是他收到的命令。”

　　“你怎么知道的？”雷纳回击道。“看起来你并没有参与其中。”他看到两个星灵互相看了一眼，接着塔萨达迅速挪开了视线，看起来有些窘迫。“怎么了？”

　　“我知道是因为执行官告诉了我，”泽拉图解释说。“过去几天里我们一直在讨论一些事。”他看起来对这个转变感到很满足。

　　“把我排除在外？恩？”雷纳盯着塔萨达问道，而泽拉图作了回应。

　　“他依然很愧疚，”执行长重复道。“但他希望告诉你。这就是为什么我来替他说。”

　　“所以说你们都希望把我们杀光？”雷纳平静地问道，他已经麻木于想起那些星灵战舰挨个盘旋在人类世界上空。

　　“如果根除你们的种族能避免虫群把你们用作与我们种族的战争的食粮的话，那么回答是肯定的。”执行长回答道。但接着他平静地看着塔萨达，他的声音变得温暖。“但是他并没有执行命令。”

　　“他没有？”雷纳看着星灵，但他并没有抬起头来。

　　“没有，”泽拉图说道。“他觉得这么做即不名誉又无建树。为此他放弃了他的职位，他的命令，凭着他自己的独断来到了这里。在这他希望直接清理掉异虫以此结束长久以来的纷争并拯救你的人民于水火。”（塔萨达是博爱主义者…。）

　　雷纳不知道该说什么。当他们第一次见面的时候他曾非常愤怒，因为星灵杀了他几百人并摧毁了他的飞船。现在他知道执行官有意违抗了命令以拯救上亿的人类，并且来到这里寻找不让其他任何人受伤以解决问题的方法。这是他听到过的最无私的事，而且雷纳也认识到塔萨达不是那种忙目的认为自己种族的利益高于一切的人。星灵执政官是那种少有的认为人民的荣誉和尊严高于计划和命令的人，他会不惜一切的维护种族的高贵，即使这意味着玷污自己的名誉。

　　“是的，”泽拉图同意道，雷纳意识道执行长读取了他的思考。“他是那种少有的，价值高于方法的人。”这并非谦虚或是挖苦，只有真实，骄傲或许还有点羡慕。

　　如果塔萨达是一本打开的书，那么泽拉图就是一幅绑死的卷轴，一切都隐藏在他的城府之中。尽管他是一个强大的战士，但他首先是一名学者一名老师。他喜欢解释问题，虽然他的方法通常是展现问题的本质并让学生自己找寻找答案。他喜欢话中有话甚至连自己都没意识到，通常他在作出决定前会考虑两至三遍。他的声音有一种令人着迷的磁性，天生就是一个适合讲故事的人。雷纳发现他有一些幽默感，而他令人费解的陈述通常都藏着诱饵，对塔萨达，对雷纳，甚至对他自己。之前有一次雷纳对执行长讲了个笑话，他不知道他是否能理解，在一片沉默中，雷纳担心他是不是误解的一塌糊涂。接下来泽拉图笑了，嘶哑的咯咯声让雷纳就像是置身于一场柔和的夏雨中。甚至塔萨达也吃吃的笑了一笑，从那以后互相挖苦和讽刺成了雷纳和暗黑圣堂武士每天的必修课。他们总是一起捉弄塔萨达，而塔萨达总是和善的应付他们的口头攻击从没有发火过。

　　他们真是奇妙的三重唱，他们的讨论题目经常弄得雷纳不甚理解。过了几天后塔萨达开始承认他被泽拉图和他的同伴迷住了。“你接触了些我所不能的，”高等圣堂谦恭的说，“但我能感觉到其中的联系，就像它回应着我灵魂中的某些东西。”

　　“你感觉到的是所有星灵与生俱来的，”泽拉图平静地回答，但他的身体向前倾，眼中闪过一丝兴奋。“我们所有人天生就拥有这些能力。我花了很长时间才掌握这个力量，但它们一直在这，就在我们身体里。”

　　“这就使你杀死扎兹的方法，”雷纳评论道，他开始解释他在黑暗山洞里看到的执行长和脑虫的战斗，黑暗圣堂武士给与了肯定。“你用那种力量杀死了他。”雷纳继续说道。

　　“是的，”执行长同意。“这种星灵与生俱来的力量对于异虫十分有效。利用这个力量我切断了扎兹和圣灵间的联系，圣灵一直在保护着它的灵魂并使它重生。”

　　“你确定这个扎兹在你攻击后并没有再出现？”塔萨达问道，雷纳代替执行长作了回答。

　　“他没有，”他宣称，“他确实死了。”他想起了他偷听到的凯瑞甘和达格斯的谈话。“我曾看到凯瑞甘谈论此事，”他解释说，“在我跑来找你们之前。不管你做了什么”-他对泽拉图点了点头—“扎兹确实死了。”接下来他想起了那次会谈剩余的部分。“该死。”

　　“什么了？”塔萨达问道。“如果你还知道什么，你必须告诉我们！”

　　“好的，那个，我—”雷纳不敢看着他们两个，特别是泽拉图。“我猜你在杀死扎兹的时候，你接触到了圣灵本身。”

　　“是的，我通过它与脑虫的联接感觉到了他。”年长的星灵承认。

　　“那个，他很显然也感觉到了你。”雷纳解释道。“当你忙与杀死扎兹的时候他接触了你的思想。这就是它如何找到Auir的位置的。”

　　“不！”泽拉图赫然站了起来但随即又瘫了下来，他无法控制自己。他就像一个喝醉的士兵一样看着天空，他的眼睛闪耀着绿色的火焰随即暗淡下来，变得无光。“这是我的错！”他内心的痛哭令人心痛。他转向塔萨达，并在吃惊的塔萨达面前跪下。“这全是我的过错。”泽拉图的痛苦传入他们脑中。“我出卖了我们的人民！惩罚我吧！取我的性命！结束这一切！”他低下头，等待着塔萨达的惩罚。

　　轮到塔萨达作决定了，一段时间里执政官并没有行动。接下来，突然，他伸出一只手并放在泽拉图的肩膀上。“这确实是你引起的，”执行官宣告道，“但你的目的是纯正的。你只为终结敌人，并不是暴露我们的人民。你的悲痛和愧疚已经是足够的惩罚了。”

　　泽拉图睁开了眼睛，抬头看着他。“但通过我，虫群会攻击Aiur！我们的人民会遭殃！”

　　“是的，”塔萨达同意，“但是圣灵已经窥探我们的世界很久了。就算不是通过你，他也会用其他方法找到Aiur的。你只是触发不可避免的事。”他转过身来，他眼中闪耀的蓝色就像是黑夜中的明灯。“无论如何，我必须警告我们的人民。他们必须知道攻击将至—而脑虫则是关键。”接着他低下他的头。“我自己的力量不足以到达他们。”

　　“我会帮你，”泽拉图说道，起身坐在塔萨达身边。年长的星灵看起来暂时抛开了他的罪责，那个感觉没有再浮现在他脸上或是在他的思考里了，虽然雷纳肯定罪责仍深深地刻在执行长内心里。“我们两个合力搭建桥梁并让你的警告可以被获取。”

　　塔萨达点了点头，两个人扣住双手，没有一丝颤动。雷纳呆在原地，他很想离开，但很怕自己突然移动会打扰他们。他看到两名星灵间的空气中发出微光，发出一种五彩的光辉，紧接着两名新的星灵出现了，他们的身影摇曳着就像是全息影像。其中一人穿这跟塔萨达同样的制服，有着一双天蓝色的眼睛。另一人穿着红色与金色的长袍，在他厚重的兜帽下灰蓝色的眼睛炯炯有神。

　　“Adun万岁，执行官，”（还是吾神Adun好点？昨天看G联赛直播比比西把这个翻成吃能量块打趣……），他的声音很虚弱，最开始雷纳以为他在跟塔萨达说话。但这个影像的眼睛并没有看着高等圣堂武士，过了一会雷纳认识到，他在跟那个天蓝色眼睛的战士说话。“你在Antioch的防御遵从了我在圣堂神殿的约定。我承认塔萨达的背叛已经动摇了…”

　　“真的吗，Aldaris？”塔萨达插了进去，他的思想直指那个带兜帽的身影。“我希望执法官能在他们的高等圣堂同胞中作更多的约定…”（这应该是句讽刺话吧…）

　　两个图像的中的星灵四处张望起来，很明显在寻找声音的源头。

　　“塔萨达？”那名叫Aldaris的星灵回复道，他的眼睛最终看向了塔萨达，“你在哪？…”

　　“安静，执法官，”塔萨达警告道。“现在不能浪费时间，我有很多事情要告诉你。”他对第二名新加入的星灵点了点头但并没有停下来对他打招呼。“就像你知道的，异虫在攻陷人类世界Tarsonis之后失去了踪迹。圣堂会议命令我返回家园，而我选择留了下来。一个强大的信号把我带到了一个偏远的，荒芜的星球Char。很显然，它也吸引了其他人。在Char上我遭遇了我们曾经的同胞，暗黑圣堂武士。”塔萨达看了一眼藏在旁边的泽拉图，它的身影慢慢出现在了影像上。

　　Aldaris眯起了眼睛。“与堕落的人在一起是异端！”他宣告着，他的声音显得粗暴而不可原谅。

　　“够了！”塔萨达的眼睛燃起了深蓝色的火焰，而执法官沉默下来。“听好了，执行官。”塔萨达继续说道，他转向天蓝色眼睛的星灵，“据我从暗黑圣堂武士长者泽拉图身上的学到的知识来说，圣灵通过他的被称为脑虫的代理控制的他的仆人。消灭脑虫，虫群就会陷入混乱。”

　　“非常感谢，尊敬的塔萨达，”最开始进入会议的执行官回答道。“我们会好好利用这个知识。”

　　“我希望我们能信任你，塔萨达，”Aldaris缓缓地说，他依然很愤怒但并没有在会谈中表现出来。“我已经感到了堕落者在你思想中留下的污点。你必须立刻回到Aiur！”

　　“我只为Aiur的安全着想，并不关心议会的命令。”塔萨达平静的回答。“我会在合适的时间回去。”当你有了艘飞船时，雷纳想到，但是他并没有说出来。他明白高等圣堂不想在他的人民遭受异虫入侵的时候还分神来带他回家，他很敬佩这名星灵战士的奉献。（其实…人家就是单纯的不想回去而已…跟孙悟空似的，为学瞬移不回家…）

　　塔萨达把手从泽拉图身上拿开并在他眼前划过，扭曲圆圈扩散开来，而剩余的图像慢慢消逝在了微弱的阳光中。

　　“感谢你，”他轻声对泽拉图说道。“或许现在我们的人民有了机会。”

　　“希望如此，”暗黑圣堂武士回答道。“尽管直接攻击脑虫并不会很有效。”

　　“为什么？”塔萨达问道。“你的攻击完全摧毁了他。”

　　在回答前泽拉图看了他几秒。

　　“你们的力量很强大，”他最终说道，“但那不是你们本质的力量。他们只是你们真正能力的表象，他被你们领导者的教导冲淡并限制在他们的恐惧中。你必须掌握你全部的力量才能真正击败异虫。”

　　塔萨达并没有回答。泽拉图的建议让他犹豫不决，无论如何，几天后他回复了。

　　“告诉我那些我们本来就拥有的力量。”他就说了这么多，但雷纳所知这对他来说是个十分大的进步。最初他看到两名星灵见面的时候暗黑圣堂武士在一般星灵社会中被认为是邪恶的。与泽拉图一起战斗让塔萨达有所改变，但他仍然认为暗黑圣堂武士的力量是异端或许是污点。询问这些事，特别是对于这些本土的星灵来说，是一个打破他们固有偏见并接受改变，拓宽视野的一个巨大进步。即使塔萨达比雷纳要大得多，但雷纳依然很尊敬他，就像是看到一个年轻的星灵指挥官踏出了他成长的第一步。

第十七章

　　接下去的两周是一段活跃与空闲，学习与懒散交错混杂的诡异生活。当塔萨达最终表示有兴趣了解暗黑圣堂武士们的Protoss天赋之后，泽拉图显得很是高兴，但在回应这个请求之前，执行长犹豫了，意味深长地瞥了雷诺一眼。

　　“这些天赋存在于我们生存的最核心，”他警告这个年轻的星灵，“并且只能展现给我们种族的其他成员，以免其他人恶意地洞察我们的灵魂并滥用这些知识危害我们的人民。”虽然说得很含蓄，但是雷诺还是听懂了其中的深意。

　　“我出去一下，”他站起来拍掉裤子上的尘土，“你们处理自家兄弟之间的事儿吧。”但是塔萨达举手阻止他离开。

　　“吉姆雷诺是我们的盟友，”执行长对这个消瘦的暗黑圣堂武士说。“而且他还是一个…”他停顿了一下，雷诺心想他正在深呼吸----如果星灵有嘴啊鼻孔啊肺啊之类的东西的话----“朋友。”塔萨达终于说了出来。而这一个字蕴含着令人惊讶的情感。不仅是星灵们感到十分震惊，连雷诺都吓得倒退了一步并瞪大了双眼。他觉得自己的失态有些可笑，但仅仅是一点点。更多的，他意识到，星灵们不仅仅是阅读情绪和思想，他们还将它们投射出来，由于这个原因塔萨达的话语中才蕴含着他如此丰富的感情和思想，也使得雷诺知道了这是多么意义重大的一种承认。塔萨达不只是说他们是伙伴——这个意思已经包含在“盟友”里头了。把雷诺称为“朋友”，就等同于塔萨达和他之间建立了一个强烈的羁绊，一个需要用忠诚和荣耀来维护的羁绊。雷诺所能想到的最接近的比喻就是拜把兄弟——那些发誓和对待血亲一样互相支持的人。这是一个惊人的荣誉，他从来没有想过能从这个高大的、沉默寡言的盟友战士那里获得。

　　“谢谢”雷诺对塔萨达说，他知道执行长会看出这个词已经说明了他感觉到了所有的感激之情。他从星灵的眼中看出他明白了。然后他瞥了一眼泽拉图，并在他的脸上同时看到了开心和困惑。

　　“但是我不想妨碍你们。”

　　“你没有妨碍我们。”塔萨达提醒了他。“你是受欢迎的客人。”他放下手臂，表示雷诺可以自由选择是否离开，然后他们一起转向了黑暗圣堂武士。现在由你决定了，雷诺无法控制自己这么想。

　　执政官可能察觉到他的想法，也可能仅仅意识到这两个人正在等待他的回应。年长的星灵可能是想酝酿点戏剧效果，停顿了一下，然后轻轻的点了点头。

　　“你看到了表层之下的东西，”他称赞塔萨达，“承认了内在的灵魂，并无视外在的形式看到了其中的血族关系。这令我印象深刻。”他的语气听起来几乎有些嫉妒了，雷诺也在刹那间察觉到了这一点。因为自己的学识、智慧和忠告，all his talk about an open mind，泽拉图对自己确定的东西有着顽固的看法。而塔萨达刚刚展示了他能够超越他以往的教育，跳脱窠臼。这是一份难得的天赋，一份连执政官自己都不曾拥有的天赋。

　　“接下来大部分我要教授的东西只能通过思维联结来学习”泽拉图继续道，“因此我们的同伴”——他对着雷诺点了点头——“将无法参与其中。不过，我会尽可能分享一切，让他更多地了解我们和我们生活的方式。”他又点了点头，但是头更低，几乎是鞠躬了。“也许你会在这发现作为星灵的真正含义，并且从外族从未有过的深度了解我们。”

　　“也许”塔萨达补充道，“你那没有受到我们传统束缚的视角，会为我们所有人提供有用的见解。”

　　雷诺犹豫了一瞬，但也仅仅是一瞬。一方面，这件事可能会很无聊，尤其是这两个星灵如泽拉图所说一般连接自己心灵的时候。另一方面，他对星灵了解的越多就越对这个种族着迷，并且现在面前摆着一个学习其他任何外族都无从知晓的知识的机会，甚至显然是大部分星灵都无从知晓的知识。塔萨达称他为“朋友”是这一切真正的决定性因素。雷诺知道这是他生命中最重要的时刻之一，比得上他初次离家的那天，遇见麦克？利博蒂的那天以及离开阿克图拉斯？孟斯克那天。圣堂武士邀请他参与到某个无比重要的大事件中来，而拒绝是对他们这种新关系的侮辱。他坐回当椅子用的石头上，点了点头。“我不知道我能不能提供些什么东西，”他接受了，“但是谢谢。”

　　这问题显然已经告一段落。当天下午更迟一些的时候——因为这位老星灵拒绝做任何不带适当戏剧性停顿的事儿——泽拉图开始了他们的教育。

　　如同暗黑圣堂所警告的一样，雷诺无法跟上这一切。经常都是两位星灵连接心灵之后执政官直接地展示一些东西。他们曾尝试过把雷诺加入到他们的心灵连接之中，但总不外乎以几个奇怪的图像，一阵瀑布般的噪音和剧烈的头疼而告终。“你的心灵不是干这个用的”执政官略带歉意的指出，“而且这个连接即使在星灵之间也只是在连接两个心灵时才能达到最佳效果。”因此，慢慢的雷诺发现自己只是坐在两个雕像之间，或者在他们忙碌地交流时漫无目的的四处游荡。

　　而其他的时候，泽拉图就向他们讲授星灵的历史和神学，雷诺则在塔萨达的身边听，虽然他只能明白一些细节。他了解到了Xel’Naga，那个数千年前创造了星灵然后被他们自己的麻烦所袭击的种族。他了解了那些使得这个种族分崩离析的纷争，和将人民们统一起来并创造了Khala之道--飞升之路的哈斯。这就是Khala之道，直到今天仍在以它严格的规矩定义当今星灵的社会。拒绝接受它的星灵们则被他们的家园所流放，成为了后来的暗黑圣堂部落。

　　“这是萨尔纳加亲自赐予我们的力量，”泽拉图解释道，“深深渗入我们种族的血脉。但是这力量经过了卡拉的净化，被限制在了我们先贤所规定的范围中。我们真实的力量绝不止于此。”

　　“然后如果没有这种限制的话我们就会失去所有的控制，”塔萨达反驳道。“就如同很久以前发生过的那样，当时ADUN未能尽到他的职责，导致的部族在艾尔上胡乱释放他们的能量，几乎毁灭了世界。”泽拉图的内心涌出一波波的震动和过去的酸楚，使雷诺退缩了一下。“是的，我知道这些事。”塔萨达承认。“传言仍然存在，当我们在圣堂教育中提升到了足够高的层次之后，我们会被灌输关于谎言和真理之间区别的指示。”

　　“指示，是的”泽拉图表示同意，“但是不完整。你看到的也不是完整的真理，只是数世纪之前秘密会议商定的说法而已。”他转过身去，并没有说更多，但雷诺知道这一天的课程已经结束了。

　　再一次讨论星灵的历史是三天以后的事情了。因为虫族在第二天发动了攻击，击败了它们之后星灵和人族的部队转移到了另一个隐蔽的山谷。曾经对他们如同磨练一般的过程现在变得如同艺术一般，星灵们帮他们收拾帐篷和设备，使得他们能在20分钟以内完成转移。每一场战斗和每一次转换营地都使两个队伍之间的默契越来越强，而且他们之间几乎是在竞赛了。雷诺知道他和泽拉图和塔萨达在一起的时间做的那些事起作用了。

　　“这也不全是坏事，”诺恩在一天早上喝咖啡时说“至少你不用在这些该死的石头上面坐上一整天了。”所有人都笑了起来。

　　“你在说什么？”过了一会儿，Cavez问道“或者说你在想什么，你脑子里有什么，或者任何其他东西。”他急急忙忙的修正了自己的说法。大多数人仍对这种心灵感应感到不适应，雷诺则希望他和凯瑞甘的那段经历能帮助他更轻松的接受这个概念以进行实践。不过这并不意味着他已经能看到彼此的想法，但他对此的理解至少能让他不会对此感到害怕。

　　“历史，”雷诺坦诚的答道。“我在学习他们的历史。”他啜了一口咖啡并思考了一会，“这是一份荣誉，”之后说道。“他们从未让一个异族了解他们如此之多，我知道他们为什么这样做。当他们告诉我越多的往事，我便越能了解他们的现在以及由来。”

　　“这样……好吗？”卡维兹问道，一阵过去排外的阴影显现在他脸上。

　　“没问题，”雷诺确定的说，“事实上比这更好，我们不必担心，他们永远不会被迫我们。”

　　他了解他说的是真的，荣誉与忠诚根植于每一个星灵的心中。甚至在卡拉将他们组成一个荣辱与共的集体前，黑暗圣堂武士——尽管他们反抗与不信任，但依旧拥有难以置信的荣誉感并仍然忠于他们的种族。塔萨达也看见了，雷诺能看出这位执行官对黑暗圣堂武士——尤其是他们的执政官的尊敬与日俱增。特别是泽拉图的课程再次开始后，“我们几乎摧毁了艾尔，”第三天，当雷诺和塔萨达在山谷后壁的突出部分坐下时泽拉图开门见山的承认道，“但那不完全是我们的过失，阿杜恩是希望指出我们错误的方向。”他的绿眼睛变得深邃，雷诺知道执政官在回忆那段古老的历史——太古老以至于他没能直接经历的历史。塔萨达解释道星灵能完整的分享他们的经历，这能使你感觉到曾经在那。

　　“他带着消灭我们的命令来到我们中间，”泽拉图轻声说道，并转向无言的呼唤着他的塔萨达，“这他们当然没告诉你，他们为什么要去承认派出圣堂武士杀害自己的同族，仅仅因为我们拒绝屈服于他们的法规？”他点点头说道，“现在你了解了你们被误导的有多深，”他补充道，他的声音中带着悲伤而非得意。

　　“但阿杜恩拒绝了，”执政官继续道，“他无法让自己杀害自己的同族，而是教了我们卡斯曾教过的东西——如何唤醒我们所携带的力量。他希望我们的精神连接在一起，希望我们在抵抗中了解道自己的愚蠢。”泽拉图停顿了片刻，好像不会继续说了。

　　“它没能起作用，”雷诺最终冒险说道，他的尝试震惊了这位星灵长者并得到一阵精神笑声。但听众的提醒使得泽拉图继续他的故事。

　　“对，”他承认道。“它没能办到。我们的确学到了我们的力量，但没有训练怎样控制它。这是卡拉唯一的好处——从出生开始训练星灵如何控制他们的冲动，如何掌控他们的思维。有了这些训练，我们的人民可以毫无后顾之忧的使用我们的天赋。”他摇了摇头，“但这些部族不具备这些知识。阿杜恩能教我们的只有那么多——这要求在必要的控制下训练数十年。即使他这么做了，我们中的许多对于进入这条道路来说太年长了，他们无法完全改变他们的方向。”他的双眼定格在塔萨达身上，雷诺甚至能说出执政官的想法。此前他是一个高阶圣堂武士——星灵的高级官员。但他仍足够年轻、足够有理想、足够正直来完全的改变他的方向。

　　“于是你们的力量成长到超越你们能控制的地步，”塔萨达毫无疑问的陈述道。

　　“对，”泽拉图承认道，“由于古老仇恨的火上浇油，暴风从我们的精神中产生，席卷了整个艾尔。最高议会驱散了暴风，但也付出了惨痛的代价。”

　　“你也将最终使我走上这条道路，”塔萨达轻声说。雷诺能感到执行官很了解他所提到的道路，但他想听到泽拉图的回答。

　　他得到了他要的答案。“不！”泽拉图的回答带着极强的情感，他们两中的任何一人都能从这位星灵长者身上看出来。“不是这样的！”他明显使自己冷静了下来。“那只是开始，表明了我们错误的方向。”他解释道。“在我们被放逐后，我们继续研究阿杜恩向我们展示的天赋，释放内在的力量。但我们也教自己控制的方法——跟卡拉一样强大，但是没有卡拉的局限性。我们学到了完整的束缚我族的力量和完全的控制它们，而且我们的精神从狭隘的法规与只保护当权者的森严等级制中解放了出来。”

　　“卡拉不是一个囚笼，”塔萨达反驳道，他的思想很平静，但在那之后的信念坚固而有力。“这是我们社会的基础，我们人民的根基。”他向后倾斜，双眼半闭。“我不能完整的描述它，”他告诫道，雷诺能感觉道这句话不仅对他，也是对泽拉图说的。“我们在卡拉内如同一人，”塔萨达在片刻的沉默后陈述道。“我们的精神是相连的，但不像我们沟通时——不像现在这样。卡拉提供了一个更深的连接，一条真正建立于星灵之间的纽带。某些方面来说你在连接中失去了自我，与所有的星灵合为一体——一独立光荣的存在。”

　　就像虫群一样？雷诺不禁想到。当然，他没有大声说出来。但泽拉图并未对阐明他的忧虑感到羞怯。

　　“这就是我们为什么拒绝，”星灵长者坚定的陈述道。“我们不希望失去自我。我们是星灵，这没错。但是独立对我们同样重要。”

　　“这当然重要，”塔萨达同意道，双眼应对着执政官的注视。“我从不要求其他。”他举起一只手，阻止了正要抗议的雷诺。“对，我们失去了自我，但没有失去我们本身。我们只是不再寂寞、不再孤立。在卡拉内我仍是塔萨达，我甚至超越了塔萨达，超越了这副身躯与这个精神。我与所有的同胞同在，成为这个伟大整体的一部分。这就是我们的种族。”他摇了摇头，发出叹息一般的精神声音。“即使是经历过的人，也无法适当的描述它。”他的目光扫过他们两个，雷诺在他的双眼中看出了遗憾。“你们将无法了解它的全部。”

　　雷诺皱了皱眉头，“我知道我不行，因为我并非星灵。但为什么他也不行？”他指着泽拉图，这时塔萨达的双眼变得更加悲伤了。

　　“黑暗圣堂武士自我放逐出了我们的连接，”这个高大的星灵缓慢的解释道，“他们永远切断了与我们之间的联系，抛弃了我们的一切，绝不回头。”

　　“我们从未离开，”泽拉图激动的反驳道，他的双眼闪烁这光芒。“我们仍然守护着艾尔！仍旧注视这你们！从我们被放逐的那一刻起就一直这样做着！”他的眼睑下垂，有意流露出愤怒。“但我们的确破坏了连接，我们认为它会让我们失去自我、剥夺我们的本身，为最高议会所吞并。也许如果有一个像你一样的人来解释它，我们也许会做出不同的选择。”

　　“你会考虑重新加入我们吗？”塔萨达似乎有些震惊。

　　“是的”执政官答道。“如果我们可以，我们会考虑的。但我们并不站在最高议会一边，我们无法信任他们。我们会和像你这样的人一起。”

　　“我对你能镇静的谈论这件事感到有些惊讶，”塔萨达承认道，同时泽拉图的精神鼻息引得雷诺露齿而笑。

　　“我们思考我们的每个行动，执行官。一举一动都是经过仔细的检查、讨论与思量的。我们一开始就不是一个轻率的民族，并且我们在宇宙中的那段时光让我们学到了更多的耐心。”

　　“那么你们就不会由于突然的念头而反悔了是吗，”塔萨达问道。尽管泽拉图还没回答，但他的话语明显毫无疑问。

　　“当然不会，”执政官嘲弄道。“那都是最高议会散布的谣言，将我们描绘成无赖和魔鬼，等同于野人——无法清晰的思考与理智的行动，甚至无法控制自我。”他转身，举起双臂，扫过身后的山谷。“我们是没有理智或是不受控制的吗？”塔萨达和雷诺都在他身后看着，黑暗圣堂武士们正与圣堂武士们一样平静的坐着，处于一片和平中。已然无需回答。

　　“可怜的吉米，命中注定如此悲伤、如此孤独。”

　　雷诺猛然起身，由于突然的运动，汗很快流了出来。他做了一个深呼吸，迫使暴走的心脏慢下来。又用前臂擦拭了眉梢的汗液。该死，他这次无法记起梦境的全部，但他知道这是另一个关于凯瑞甘的梦。从他放弃了穿梭机以来，就越来越频繁的梦见她。但她的语气已经变了很多。

　　这个他晚一些才回忆起的梦，也是关于他会凯瑞甘的。但他们并不愉快，至少结局是这样的。每一次当他们一起就餐、奔跑、示爱、相拥、交谈与欢笑时都充满了活力与爱意。但之后有什么改变了。凯瑞甘远离了他，或是在他的怀抱中变的冷酷。她的声音变得更深沉、更刺耳并伴随着送来阵阵寒意的回声。她白皙的皮肤变得黑暗充满斑点。她的神态由爱慕变成了愤怒、悲伤、甚至是憎恨。

　　“真遗憾，吉米。”她这次说道。“你已经完了。”

　　有几次他在这时醒来，另一些时候他发觉自己在奔跑，以逃离这份出了问题的爱，但他只是在被追逐与折磨而已。他认为这次的这个梦属于后者。

　　“我不能这样下去，”雷诺在他起身走出帐篷时说道，他小心的不去吵醒任何附近的伞兵。他已经获得了充分的睡眠，但他无法感受到——他通常感到紧张、意外与反感，特别是在醒来后。他的双眼灼烧一般，有时他在梦中受伤的地方会疼上数小时。但他每晚仍希望梦见凯瑞甘，每次在一切变坏之前，他都细细品味着梦境的开始。

　　“为什么她要这样对我？”在雷诺屈膝在谷壁旁，将水泼在脸上时他喃喃道。

　　“也许她的原因与你的思绪一样混乱。”声音来自雷诺的后方，这太过突然以至于他将水洒在了胸部而不是脸上。他转身，知晓了这个独特精神声音的主人。

　　“泽拉图，”执政官在离他几步远的地方，双臂隐藏在长袍的褶层中，绿色的双眼正仔细的观察着他。“我不是来吓你的，”这位星灵向他保证。

　　“没关系，”雷诺铲起了更多水，这次确实泼到了脸上，之后他站了起来。“正好摆脱了一场噩梦。”

　　这位黑暗圣堂武士点了点头，“她的影响依然使你痛苦，”他注意到雷诺肯定了解了什么，但是没有大声说出来。那些梦真的来源于凯瑞甘！

　　“她一直在折磨我，”他承认道，同时走了一小段路坐在了一块低矮的岩石上。泽拉图带着星灵特有的从容与优雅坐到了他的旁边，他不知怎么蜷缩起来，所以他现在如同一个顶着脑袋披着黑布的球。

　　“不仅仅是你，”泽拉图补充道，但他没有继续说下去。他的双眼注视着雷诺，这让雷诺想起他的母亲、他的老师、孟斯克都曾这样做过。它意味着——自己去领悟。

　　“我是唯一得到这些梦的人，对吗？”他首先担心的是她用同样的方法影响他全部的人，但他不认为她会这样做。泽拉图如他所想的摇了摇头，“的确，她还能这样伤害谁？只能是我和她。”雷诺打了个冷战，凝视着这个星灵，只是看着他。“是这样吗？他通过这些梦来伤害自己。”

　　“梦如何才能伤害它的发出者？”泽拉图问道，虽然雷诺怀疑星灵长者已经知道了答案。但他要自己充分讨论并解决它——尽管他也知道泽拉图了解他的想法如同明白他的话语一样容易。

　　“梦会伤到她，如果她正在放弃她本身想要保留的东西，”他坚定的说，“或者她正在分享一些她并不想分享的东西，或者她正在重温一些她不愿回想的事。”他回忆着那些梦的内容，尤其是它们是如何开始的。“她发出的影像有关于我们的下场，”他承认道，一想到这他就伤心。“当我们在一起时，”他的脑海中回想起了他们一起奔跑、雀跃、欢笑的情景。“她在向我展示，我们能快乐的在一起。”

　　他看着泽拉图的视线偏斜了，眨了眨眼，突然留下了泪水。“她在用我们的下场嘲笑我。”

　　“的确，”执政官同意道。他等待着，清楚的预见到雷诺会继续。

　　“但同时她也用某些她想要却无法拥有的东西来嘲笑自己，”雷诺已然了解，“她的心中有一部分仍想与我在一起，这就是梦境的源头。她扭曲梦境是因为她知道她无法拥有我，用这些梦来对付我是因为这是唯一能确保它们完全送出的方法。”

　　泽拉图点了点头。“你很快掌握了真相，”他告诉雷诺，“一度将你的心从它的约束中解放出来。”

　　雷诺笑了笑，“如果你的意思是我太执着于过去而无法看到前方，你是对的。”他冷静了下来，“因此我了解了她既想又不想向我发送梦境。它们仍是一种痛苦，仍然让我在惊醒时捏一把冷汗。”他抬头看着星灵长者，“你能停止它们吗？”

　　“我？”泽拉图仔细的看了看雷诺，“它们不是我的梦，我既不是接受者亦不是发出者。”

　　“是这样，但你能了解它们，”雷诺坚持道，“你能从我的思绪中阅读它们。你不能设法阻碍它们，使我无法收到吗？或者是使它们改变方向诸如此类？”他知道自己很贪心，但他迫切想这么做。他知道凯瑞甘的一部分仍需要他，仍期望事情会发生改变，但那只会让这些梦境变的更糟。

　　但是执政官摇了摇头，“这些梦要由你承担，”他告诫道。“它们不应由我来转向。你必须尽力独自面对。”

　　在雷诺起身走回帐篷时他停了下来。泽拉图的话语和神态中的某种东西使他怀疑并付诸行动。“你有能力停止它们，”他转身面向执政官说道。“如果你想，你就可以。”

　　泽拉图与他的视线相交了，但是没有回答。

　　“为什么你不这么做？”雷诺走近几步问道。“我并不要求你现在去做，但我想知道为什么，我想知道真相。”

　　一会后他认为执政官会拒绝回答，或是再说些关于独自战斗的话。然而星灵长者叹了口气——暗示着愉悦与懊恼。

　　“你比我们所知的更像我们，”泽拉图说道，他的声音太轻，雷诺甚至无法确定他听清了。之后，他更大声的补充道，“你是对的。尽管有些困难，但这些梦境能够被切断。因为你们之间的联系很强，非常强。”他停了一会，又继续说，“它对我来说很明显，就像一条有杂色的光带伸展在你们之间。”

　　“光带？”雷诺摘要道，“等等，你能看见来自凯瑞甘的连接？”当泽拉图点头时，他突然顿悟道，“那么你知道她在哪！”

　　“我无法知道她的准确位置，”执政官修正道。“但我的确能从连接的强度看出她是远还是近。”

　　“你利用我！”雷诺斥责道。“你让梦继续好留意她，好跟她保持距离！”“是的。”

　　雷诺想到如果他处在同样的情形下会做出怎样的决定，他的怒意顿时消退了。“这很好，”他最终说道。“这是我们可用的手段。”

　　当他走回帐篷时，他听见了泽拉图最后的评论，差不多是风中的耳语。“比我们所知的更像我们。”

第十八章

　　“你已经走上了这条道路，真正的道路，”泽拉图在几天后的另一次训练、授课加讨论中向塔萨达保证道。雷诺一如既往的坐在旁边观察和倾听着。“无需我的说明就迈出了第一步，”执政官继续着，雷诺认为他听出了点滴怒气，好像这位星灵长者在为他没有起到更大的作用而失望。

　　“我不明白，”塔萨达承认道。这是雷诺喜欢这位高大星灵勇士的原因之一——他愿意显露他的无知，承认自己的错误。

　　“在我们第一次相遇时，”泽拉图提醒道，塔萨达则因为羞愧的而耷拉着脑袋。在相处了超过一个月后，他显然为他在第一次相遇时攻击了这位黑暗圣堂武士而抱歉。但执政官将所有歉意扫到一边，继续说道。“你展示了精神武器，是这样吗？”

　　塔萨达点了点头，雷诺也这么做了——他回忆起了执行官手腕上伸出的闪着蓝白光芒的能量尖刺。

　　“然而你没有穿着护臂，”泽拉图指出，雷诺确定他看见塔萨达因为了解了执政官要说什么而眼睛变的扁平。

　　“好了，”雷诺说着，微微探身过去，“很抱歉打断，但是我无法理解。那又怎样？”

　　“护臂能增强并集中我们的心，”塔萨达缓慢的解释道。“它使我们能使用心灵刀刃。然而我——”他停止了，显然无法结束他这次对话。

　　“你制造这样的武器不需要工具，”泽拉图同意道。“你的心能独立集中你的力量并给与它形状。”他的声音听起来很骄傲，就像一个父亲看着儿子第一次开枪。“其实你的心已经跃出了卡拉和它的限制。”他将双手放在塔萨达的肩上。“你已经为下一步做好了准备。”

　　雷诺在之后无法听懂太多。它既过于具体又过于模糊，在泽拉图向塔萨达展示星灵心灵的真正潜力时说明混杂着比喻又零星点缀着诗歌。但他见证了塔萨达依次精通了每个新天赋，而他正处于这两个星灵坐下安静的连接了几个小时后，泽拉图最终起身承认道，“你已经准备好了。”

　　“准备？”他被自己的双足干扰了，一边诅咒着双腿的酥麻，一边心不在焉的揉着。“为什么而准备？”

　　“暗影行走，”泽拉图在他领着塔萨达从他们找到的隐蔽小径向下穿过他们正联合扎营的山谷时解释道。“每个黑暗圣堂武士要证明他精通我们的技巧所必须经受的考验。”

　　雷诺跟在两个星灵身后，突然理解了泽拉图所说的话。他一直认为，塔萨达只是在学习他的遗产——关于每个星灵所持有的力量。显然不只如此。泽拉图的确在训练执行官，但不仅仅以友好的姿态。他在教导塔萨达成为一个黑暗圣堂武士！

　　“他通过了会怎样？”雷诺在他们靠近山谷的远端时问道。其他的星灵移动到了旁边，塔萨达的狂战士步进到背靠着东边的山壁，泽拉图的黑暗圣堂武士面朝西边消失在了暗影中，雷诺打了个手势让他的人呆在他们所在的东南角。

　　“成为我们中的一员，”泽拉图答道。

　　“那么他作为圣堂武士如何了？”雷诺询问道，“他失去了它吗？”他无法确定为什么这对他很重要，但除此以外他变的渐渐喜欢上执行官了，并且了解他作为高阶圣堂武士的功绩对塔萨达很重要。

　　泽拉图暂停了这个问题并转身仔细观察着雷诺，这位星灵长者的浅绿色眼睛依旧深邃，但雷诺认为他看见了一点乐趣闪烁其中——也许是因为高兴。

　　“只有一人尝试过两道并行，”泽拉图承认道，但他没有继续说下去。他们到达了山谷的尽头，执政官柔和的转身双眼看着来时的路。

　　“我要干什么？”塔萨达简短的问道。他好像在茫然中跟随泽拉图来到这，可是现在他苏醒了，瞥了瞥周围，他锐利的蓝眼睛接受了四周的每个细节。

　　“你必须横过山谷的到达它的远端，”泽拉图答道。“只能穿过阴影，不要让任何东西阻挡你前进。”

　　“这是在干嘛？”雷诺无法从提问中停止。“步行穿过山谷就是他全部要做的？”

　　两位星灵都瞥了瞥他并点点头。然后雷诺的大脑被他所获悉的信息占据了，他再次俯视山谷，明白了当他们通过时会发生什么。塔萨达的狂战士全部在西边，位于正在消退的阳光中。但泽拉图的跟随者们消失在了阴影中。就是塔萨达行走时将会穿过的阴影。穿过一个充满了随时可能展开攻击的战士的山谷——的确，这是一个挑战。

　　“祝你好运，”他对塔萨达说。

　　“谢谢，吉姆·雷诺，”执行官答着，他的蓝白相间的双眼睿智而坚定。然后这位高阶圣堂武士转身向左前进了三步，当他进入那片领域时，阴影像雾一般升至他的周围。

　　“他会成功吗？”雷诺向也在向山谷远端前进但待在阴影之外的泽拉图问道。

　　“如果这是他的宿命，”执政官回答道，没有再做出更多的评论。几分钟之后雷诺发现他成了独自一人，这位星灵长者消失在了他的足迹当中。雷诺考虑过加入他自己的人，但是又决定不这么干。他们在山谷的前端，塔萨达已经通过了他们那。他想要一个更好的视野，尤其是行走结束时——他怀疑那会是最艰难的时刻。因此他回到了隐蔽的小径，并待在那背靠山壁，看着这场展示。

　　塔萨达很缓慢但确实在通过阴影。他在开始这场考验前脱掉了制服，只穿着长束带——比需要的更正式。他的双眼闪烁着蓝白相间的光芒，在黑暗中格外耀眼。阴影在他周围形成了漩涡，在行走时遮蔽了他。

　　之后，第一个黑暗圣堂武士发起了进攻。

　　雷诺很难跟上他们的动作，尤其是在远处。塔萨达将身体转到一边，挥臂挡下一次攻击——这是雷诺的第一线索。然后一个星灵出现在了他的旁边，手上缠绕这那种超越黑暗的光——泽拉图在从异虫手中救出塔萨达时也曾经显现过。他的双手挥向执行官，尽管雷诺知道那只是心理作用，但他仍感到他们散发出的阵阵寒气。塔萨达挡下了第一击并绊倒了那个战士，屈膝一旁，双手猛击对手的胸膛将他压在地上——看到这雷诺松了口气。这是一场明显的败北，那位黑暗圣堂武士直到塔萨达起身继续行走前都没有起来。

　　第二次攻击来自后方，一个星灵出现在了塔萨达刚刚通过的阴影中。他的手中也带着黑暗，拉伸在双手间如同从虚空中撕裂的绞刑具。他快速的将暗带抛向塔萨达的头部，并缠绕在他的脖子上。那个黑暗圣堂武士猛地向后拉，计划使他的猎物失去平衡。但塔萨达举起了右手，闪光的心灵刀刃突然出现，利落地切断了暗带并散落了其中的暗影物质。塔萨达用快速的三击摆脱了这个战士——一击在胸膛、一击于咽喉、一击在眉间。然后再次移动起来。

　　每个人都在看，人类也和星灵一样，并且了解这场奇怪的旅程由于某些原因而很重要。雷诺能看出他的人脸上敬畏的神情，而且知道自己也一样。塔萨达完全集中了，他的优雅与表现出了力量，看似未经努力，但已使多数传奇蒙羞。这是战斗在他们身边的人所表现出的真实力量，一个活生生的传奇。

　　尽管雷诺不知道他怎样获得了这样的印象，但塔萨达的战士好像更少钦佩更多的是担忧。他们心无旁骛的看着，几乎一动不动。可是雷诺能不时感觉到震颤，他辨认出了那是由于精神交流，但那对他来说太远又太私密而无法得知具体内容。他能理解，这些狂战士看着他们的领袖与泽拉图变的友好，而他们曾坚信他是同异虫一样糟糕的敌人。尽管他们已经学会了尊重黑暗圣堂武士，但要他们接受他们的领袖与其中一个如此亲密，他们仍有许多问题要问。而现在，他们显然在看着一场试炼与启蒙。他们或许担心塔萨达会背叛他们，会变成像执政官一样黑暗与隐匿的存在。或许甚至会变得像传说中的每一个黑暗圣堂武士那样邪恶、无情与疯狂。仅仅是由于他们的纪律和他们对塔萨达的惊人尊重才使得他们没有从旁插手。

　　塔萨达已然穿过了半个山谷。他已经面对了超过一打黑暗圣堂武士，并依次击败了他们。其中一些他仅用速度和力量战胜了他们，有一些他用心灵刀刃解除了他们的武装。仍有一些他不得不使用他们的天赋击败的，当一个星灵用裹着黑暗的拳头刺向他时，塔萨达抓住了这次攻击，并用手巧妙的夺取了那黑暗，无害的释放到了阴影中。每当他击败一个黑暗圣堂武士，他们就退到一边让他通过。但他仍有一半的路要走，仍有许多黑暗圣堂武士要击败——包括泽拉图本人。

　　雷诺继续注视着。然而，他注意到什么地方有些奇怪。塔萨达的双眼在阴影中仍然可见，但现在他看见这位星灵的胸口有一块模糊的光斑。第二块出现了，继而是第三块，在执行官的心脏上形成了一个倒三角。这块微小的斑点变得更亮了，塔萨达的双眼也一样，并缓慢的布满了他的其余部分，直到他全身被吞没在了耀眼的光芒中。光驱散了他周围的阴影，将阴影分散成了顽抗的黑暗小块——形状非常像星灵战士准备进攻的样子。雷诺眨了眨眼。就在这一瞬间，发光体闪烁了强烈的光，至少他认为他看见了它的闪动，就像烛火在风中摇曳。也有可能是因为无力的阴影迅速逃离了光的清扫。但现在它消失了，他无法确认他是否看见。

　　他看见了塔萨达被光环绕着，继续缓慢而稳健的沿着谷底前进。几个黑暗圣堂武士没有战斗，直立的让他通过了，显然在他的战术夺走他们的战略优势——隐藏时就被当做获胜了。另一些人无法靠的足够近展开攻击，因为那光芒太过耀眼，甚至在他们能碰到他之前就被迫返回。而执行官依旧前进着。

　　终于，他来到了小径之下，最后一片阴影依旧在他的前方。但塔萨达靠近时，阴影并没有退缩而是扩张了，它伸出了卷须缠绕在他的周围，遏制住了他的光芒。光变得暗淡但并未消失，作为回报，光深深的刺进了黑暗中，剥落了层层阴影，直到一个高大、微微弯曲的形状显现出来。那是泽拉图。

　　“你很出色，”执政官说着，让阴影从他身上散去，因为它已经不再有用了。“你使用光明与黑暗两者来取得优势。你的技巧与圣堂武士天赋值得赞扬，并且你使用起我们的天赋就像是与生俱来的。你真的很优秀。”雷诺不止一次的听出这位星灵长者精神声音中的笑意，愉悦之情洋溢于字里行间。“倘若你能避开我的阻挡就能到达远方的集会地点。”

　　塔萨达回答了，这是他开始挑战以来第一次说话。“来吧，长者，让我们看看是我的光芒还是你的黑暗将会获胜。”

　　片刻后，泽拉图双眼闪着光，好像在生气，他刺耳的回答道。“这无关于光与暗！我告诉过你！这只与我们被授予的东西有关！”然后，他的愤怒好像驱使他展开了攻击。阴影再次在他周围升起，暗带缠绕在他的身体上。他驱使他们如双剑般向前，刺向了面前的光芒。雷诺几乎同情的大喊，直到他看到塔萨达毫无畏惧才没这样做。他的光环被刺穿了——事实上，黑暗之刃深深刺进了他的肩膀——但他没有表现出一点痛苦或甚至是惊奇。

　　泽拉图困惑的退后了。“你的心是紧闭的，”这位星灵长者注意到。“很好，但是为什么你要在放出光芒时隐藏你的思维？”

　　看到泽拉图的动作时雷诺明白了，执政官向后跃进，并在移动中收回了双剑。然而他们两人都知道已经太晚了。在泽拉图进攻塔萨达时，阴影边缘的一角并未跟随，而是快速从他身边通过了。现在那束阴影飘到了山谷边缘的岩石上，并入了靠近谷壁的一束更小的阴影中——雷诺所在位置的后方。然后黑暗渐渐消退了，被内部宝石般的蓝光撕碎，塔萨达就站在那，正向下看着泽拉图以及他身后其余部分的山谷。

　　“一个很好的战略，”执政官说着，放下了武器，并回到了小径。“光芒只是你从阴影中通过的诱饵。”

　　塔萨达点了点头，但没有回答。

　　泽拉图注视了他片刻，然后笑了。混杂着喜悦与骄傲的波涛在简单的将所有人联合在了一起——人类、狂战士以及黑暗圣堂武士。

　　“精彩异常！”泽拉图宣布道，“你极富灵感！准确的使用了你的能力——老的和新的都是，甚至利用了我们之间的成见。没有你的圣堂武士训练这个战略将会失败，但没有你的新天赋你将不会成功。”

　　“的确，”塔萨达同意道，“我能感觉到体内前所未有的能量。我从圣堂武士训练中得到的只是皮毛，而在那之下的能量被小心翼翼的控制着。”他低下了头。“谢谢你。”

　　“该说感谢的是我，”泽拉图回应着，上前再次将双手放在了塔萨达的肩上。“我向你致敬，兄弟，向那些走上了我族真正道路的人——穿越了光与影的人们致敬。”他站直了身体，他的下一句话所产生的涟漪将回荡在山谷间，被赋予的力量与庄严甚至让每一块岩石颤抖。“愿你完成你的使命，阿杜恩之子，”泽拉图宣告道，“为我们带来荣耀。”

　　其余的黑暗圣堂武士集结在了他们下面，他们中传来了一阵精神呼声——一份问候与赞赏的洗礼。而从塔萨达自己的战士那传来了一阵流露出谨慎的祝贺——他们敬畏着他们的领袖和他的新技艺，但仍旧担心他会变成什么。

　　“干得好，”雷诺说着，向塔萨达伸出了手。执行官凝视了片刻，然后伸出了自己的手紧紧的握住了它。

　　“谢谢，吉姆·雷诺。”塔萨达的双眼扫过了泽拉图，其次是黑暗圣堂武士和他的狂战士，甚至是山谷远端雷诺的部下。“也感谢所有人，”他补充道，“没有如此众多、如此不同又如此相似的各位出席，我无法——”

　　无论他想说什么，他被一声撕裂空气尖叫打断了。一个油滑的身体随之出现，猛烈的拍打着翅膀，俯冲了下来，从嘴中喷出的酸液洒在了一个星灵身上，使他立刻痛苦的在地上翻滚。异虫出其不意的找到了他们。他们被进攻了！

第十九章

　　“该死！”雷诺跳下小径，穿过山谷向远方他的人那里跑去。他在行动中仍然咒骂着。为什么他们不留心于观察？因为他们全都出神的看着这次暗影行走。近来，他让他的人懒惰些——允许他们只维持几次随便的巡逻，因为星灵总是保持着警惕，甚至能比他们穿着制服时更好的发现入侵的异虫。

　　还有那些制服！他们的能量战斗装甲，在战斗中是那样该死的有用，但对付谷壁却一无是处。他的人没有一个穿着制服——尽管现在正有几个人匆忙的穿进制服里。他只希望他们有时间穿上并运行它。

　　“卡维兹！艾伯娜西！”他在到达山谷的正中时喊道，希望他的声音能盖过异虫俯冲袭击所产生的噪音。“拿起枪，预备好！给我们点掩护火力！”不管是他的两名副官是听见了或只是预见到长官的命令。他们转身抓起枪，向正在入侵的生物放出了一阵弹幕。其他的伞兵也很快举起武器，一阵枪林弹雨后，山谷上方的空气中充满了闪光的碎片。

　　现在，雷诺已经在营地里了。他径直走向他那仍旧放在一边的制服，并尽快穿上它。他穿着能量装甲已有数年的经验了，在它密封并开始运转期间，他为他的奔跑喘了口气。接着他探过肩膀，解下背上的来复枪筒，开始去肢解掉那些异虫。

　　天空最终被遮蔽了，空中的异虫失去了它们的优势。它们在第一波攻击中杀死了几个星灵，但之后狂战士与黑暗圣堂武士很快移动到了它们无法轻易攻击到的谷壁。当然有翼异虫并不是唯一的进攻者，这一次，它们的规模更胜往常——至少有上百只，半数是地面部队——显然是等到空中部队分散了敌人的注意才一拥而入。雷诺的营地是离山谷前端最近的，所以很快他发现他们被成群的刺蛇、跳虫和雷兽淹没了。好在星灵来到并帮助支撑住了他的队伍。

　　雷诺听见了一个奇怪的声音盖过了枪声，一阵哀恸的悲鸣，他冒险瞥了瞥山谷的另一端。他看见塔萨达的狂战士正用心灵刀刃来肢解任何靠近的敌人，而泽拉图的黑暗圣堂武士在另一边做着同样的事。接着他看见了泽拉图本人，他仍在小径的高处，正在向任何接近的空中敌人投掷一种奇特的暗带网——同时一个吞噬者被漆黑的绳索裹着竖直的落下。

　　然后他看到了塔萨达。

　　执行官已从小径跳下，正从暗影行走相反的方向一边战斗一边穿过谷底。黑暗从他的身后升起，就像一件斗篷——一道弯曲着的、异虫显然无法刺穿的寒冷阴影。他闪光的心灵刀刃从他的手腕展开，超过了人类一臂的长度，已经有能力轻轻一挥就接触并烧焦任何一个滑翔的飞龙。雷诺看见这位高阶圣堂武士转身将右手挥向一个入侵的吞噬者。那只手腕上的心灵刀刃被加长了，从一个三角刀刃变成了长须状，就像一条发光的鞭子，攻击时还发出噼啪的响声。闪光的顶端正好攻击到了这个正在下降的异虫张开的嘴部，并完全刺穿了它，同时引起了这个生物的嘴内出现了一阵火花。然后火花爆炸了，这个生物在塔萨达故技重施在一个头扎进射程的刺蛇身上时掉在了地上。

　　这是雷诺曾见过的最不可思议的展示。他此前见过塔萨达战斗，这位星灵的优雅、迅速与准确总是给他深刻的印象。但现在有些新的东西，不仅仅是泽拉图教给他的新天赋，而是他变得更加沉着、更加冷静与更加自信。也不是一种心理态度——要说有什么的话，这位星灵勇士现在更少的展现他的权威，而是不知如何加深了他所映射出的力量与气势。异虫感觉到了雷诺所了解到的，开始后退了，塔萨达利用优势，迫使它们扎进了狂战士与黑暗圣堂武士两者的包围中，扫清了一条道路。

　　在几分钟内，异虫从胜利的入侵者变成了绝望的防御者，幸存的氏族成员聚集在一起，努力在他们找寻出路时不让敌人靠近。

　　这时一个小标志出现在了雷诺的屏幕上，他转身找寻这位被他的制服锁定的新来访者。

　　在那，山谷上方的一个山脊上盘旋着一个巨大、熟悉的形状，一个异虫领主。但它从哪来？它刚才没有到过这，否则他的系统会标记它。领主缓慢、笨拙而且脆弱，也是维系氏族必须的，它们维持着它们的控制脑体——这只是凯瑞甘——与其余异虫的通信连接。凯瑞甘不会只派出一只而没有足够的保护就进入山中。

　　“不要绝望，我的同胞们，”这只领主向仍陷在山谷中的异虫喊道。“更多我们氏族的成员就在附近，他们将很快就到。现在撤退，这样你们的力量就能使我们的新一轮攻击更凶残。”

　　听见这句话后，下面的异虫立即四散开来。它们放弃了全部对人类与星灵的抵抗，争先恐后的开始登上谷壁。攀援着、飞翔着、爬行着，到达并越过了山脊。在少于一分钟的时间内消失了，只留下身后的尸体。

　　“没错！”诺恩叫喊着，双手高举他的来复枪。“跑吧，恶心的东西！”

　　“闭上你的嘴！”雷诺斥责道。“收工！我们离开这！”

　　“什么？”麦克默蒂停止与另一个伞兵击掌并转过身来，混乱写在他宽大的脸上。“但是长官，我们赢了！它们夹着尾巴逃了！”

　　“它们在重组，”雷诺纠正道。“它们会在几分钟内回来，比这次更多。我们必须离开。”他打着手势。“麦克默蒂，你和玲带着枪。我希望你到山脊上去。看见异虫，立刻开枪。明白？”他瞥了瞥其他人。“诺恩，你和德斯兰去山谷的入口。同样的行动——站岗，保持冷静，射击任何在动的东西。其他人将这些机器打包！”

　　他的人凝视了他一秒。这次胜利太迅速、太决定性了，他们显然无法相信自己仍处于危险之中。但他们的训练起作用了，卡维兹和艾伯娜西咆哮着命令其他的伞兵组织起来——就在雷诺挑选出的四名士兵攀上高处站岗之时。

　　收拾和上路只花了他们十分钟，但正当他们收起最后一个帐篷时，诺恩开火了。德斯兰片刻后也加入了，他向后喊道，“异虫！正朝我们前进！”这是唯一一条离开山谷宽阔平坦的道路，但不是唯一一条可行的道路——塔萨达是精明的战略家，不可能选择没有退路的场所扎营。其他所有人都移动到了山谷的远端，呈纵队进入了前不久雷诺还和他的两位星灵盟友一起坐着的隐秘小径。塔萨达已经跃上了山谷上的一个狭长岩架，正带领这他们攀登上去，离开山谷并向后登上附近的山峰。穿着装甲的伞兵帮助没有穿着的到达岩架后，也加入了他们，最后雷诺抽调回了他的四个守卫，并掩护他们穿越山谷直到离开。异虫们仍翻过那些被杀者的尸体，争先恐后的涌入山谷。这时，雷诺已经在山脊的另一边落下，加入到他其余部队的急行军中，离开了这片新战场。

　　几小时后，他们无疑甩掉了追击，塔萨达选定了另一个山谷并引领他们来到它突出谷壁的庇护之下。他们再次扎营以缓和长时间的行动，但这次雷诺穿着装甲警戒着每一个角落。他不想再受到惊吓了。

　　“完美的指挥，首领，”麦克默蒂在他们蹲着一边吃干肉一边吞泥浆状的咖啡时承认道。“你是怎么知道它们会卷土重来的？”

　　“我听见了它们的交谈，”雷诺坦白着，谨慎的啜了一口他的饮品。“领主命令他们撤退并重组。”

　　在他察觉到山谷变得非常安静时，他依旧费力的吞咽着咖啡。从他的杯中，他看到他的人正凝视着他——连坐在远处的星灵也一样。甚至正在他旁边的塔萨达和泽拉图也把头歪在一边、双眼微闭，好像不确定他们是否听清了。

　　“它们交谈？”卡维兹轻声问道。“但是，指挥官，它们不交谈，它们没有一个这样做。”

　　“什么？”雷诺放下杯子，瞪着他年轻的副官。“它们当然这么做了。你认为这是我虚构出来的吗？我听见了！”

　　“虫群并不说话，”塔萨达说着，走了过来蹲在雷诺旁边。泽拉图走向了另一边，他们两就像他手臂旁的一对雕像。“它们并不像你一样这么做。”

　　“它们的说话方式与我们不同，”泽拉图确定的说着，他绿色的双眼专注的看着雷诺。“你所谓的交谈不是它们所拥有的能力。”

　　雷诺摇了摇他的头。“这真是一团糟！”他说着，握紧拳头打了大腿一拳。“我听见过！”他凝视着泽拉图，激怒他以否定他的后一句话。“你也这么做了！你和扎兹交谈时是怎么做到的？”

　　执政官的双眼变的扁平。“你听见了？怎么做到的？”

　　“我在那儿，”雷诺提醒着他。“我观察到了整件事。”

　　泽拉图再次歪着他的头、双眼微闭，与其说是沉思不如说仅仅是陷入混乱。“那次交流是其他人无法听到的，”他一会后解释道，“通过简短的触碰它的心灵，我可以估计那个生物的想法，并研究我的攻击对它和它的氏族的影响。”

　　“你是说你们在脑中交谈？”从卡维兹的声音中，雷诺听出了一点害怕，实际上接近于恐怖。他了解到这个年轻人正在想象那应该是什么样子。

　　“我猜是这样，”雷诺缓慢的承认并回想着。“我现在想起来了，我实际上并没有看见他们动嘴。但我肯定我听见了。”他再次看了看泽拉图。“不然我是如何知道扎兹的名字？又如何知道他们今天会重组？”

　　“你说是真的，”塔萨达从另一边保证道。“这些信息太精确无法靠想象得到。你不知怎样接进了虫群的思想。你听见它们彼此的思维，正如我们星灵互相听见精神语言一样。”

　　“很好，”雷诺双手压了压太阳穴，希望能挤出点思绪。“我快疯了。是这样，对吧？他们说疯子才能听到别人听不到的声音，现在我也听到了。只是我比较幸运，听到的是异虫发出的声音。”

　　“你的心灵是完整的，”泽拉图回答道，“你的理性也并未减退。”片刻后雷诺感觉到一阵柔和的羽毛触感抚摸着他脑海内部，干枯但是温和。然后它消失了，执政官缓慢的点了点头。“凯瑞甘，”他宣布道。

　　“凯瑞甘？她做了些什么？”但雷诺已经明白了这位黑暗圣堂武士想要说的。

　　“你们的心是相连的，”泽拉图确信的说。“她通过连接接触你，既递送给你梦境，同时关注你的身体状况。但她并不细心。”他嗤嗤的笑了，那粗糙但缓和的精神感受总让雷诺想起秋天的落叶。“她没有我们那样集中与控制的经验。尽管她力量强大，但她仍无法精确的控制它。”

　　“他在说些什么，长官？”艾伯娜西问道，她正面色苍白的凝视着雷诺。雷诺叹了口气，了解道他不得不解释许多他一直希望避免解释的事情。

　　“凯瑞甘的连接进入了我的脑海中，”他向他所有的人说道。并忽视声明引起的喘气继续道，“她已经干扰我数周了，事实上从我们来这时就开始了。”实际上甚至那以前，但他不想深究。“但它是双向的。”他对艾伯娜西露齿而笑，并看见她的笑容回归而感到安心。“她很草率，泽拉图发现了她放置在我身上的标记。他利用这来密切注意她的位置，至少是她的大概下落。这也是我们一直得以攻击它们的一部分原因——我们在解决她的部队时能清楚的了解她是远还是近。”他摇了摇头，仍然专注于刚得到的新信息。“我猜我不知怎么能听懂异虫的交谈，是她的另一种影响。”

　　“你听见的她能听见的东西，是由她呈现出的，”塔萨达解释道。“她连接着每个氏族成员，因此它们的交流都到达了她那。虽然大多数她忽略掉了，但她仍然接收到了。当你靠近异虫，并且它们在交流时，她的心将这些想法翻译成了你能听懂的话语。”

　　“因此她持续翻译着是因为她也听见了那些交流，而且在它们进入我的听力范围时被会无意识的翻译成人类语？”

　　塔萨达和泽拉图都以点头代替回答。

　　“呼嗯~。”雷诺向后仰思考着，他心不在焉的再次拿起了杯子，倒掉了其中的浆状液体。“因此我们能察觉她在哪，”他说完，将空杯子放回了旁边，“并且能窃听她的军情。”他确认性的看了看两位星灵领袖，当他们再次点头时雷诺感到一个微小而严峻的笑容浮现在他脸上。“这是极大的优势，”他指出道，并看了看周围聚集在一起的星灵和人类，确实毫无缺失的全都肩并肩的聆听着，不是作为三个独立的队伍而是一支更强大的部队。“我认为，”他最终说道，“是时候停止逃跑了。让我们带给她一场战斗吧。”

第二十章

　　他们花费了整整两天才锤炼出一个计划。令人惊奇的是，泽拉图是这次的难点。塔萨达同意雷诺的看法——游击战术已经成为过去。但执政官没那么容易被说服。

　　“我们不能因为躲在暗处就掉以轻心，”他们三个坐在一起讨论何去何从时，他向雷诺和塔萨达警告道。“我们的确要同异虫战斗，但必须集中力量而且不将自己暴露在不必要的危险中。”他凝视着塔萨达，好像预料到这位执行官在作为黑暗圣堂武士的现在会变得鲁莽。

　　“没有人说我们将会丢掉的性命，”雷诺向这位星灵长者保证道。“但我们不能永远躲着，并且我已经厌烦了。我们已经有了打倒她的手段——我是说利用这些手段彻底处理掉她的氏族。”

　　坐在他对面的塔萨达点了点头。“我也感觉到这场争斗持续的超过了适当的时间。我们必须尽快解决。”

　　随后泽拉图放弃了，虽然他在计划期间仍旧提供着谨慎的声音。但他们手头的计划甚至令他喜欢，而现在他们正将它付诸实践。

　　第一步由雷诺来完成。他躺下然后闭上双眼、缓慢的深呼吸，直到他进入梦乡。正如他所预料的，他已处于梦境之中了。他正站在一个长满青草的小山上，俯视着谷类覆盖的群峰间绿色的山谷。太阳高悬在空中，正沿着地平线投下粉红和橙色的极光。

　　“美极了，”一个沙哑的声音在他耳旁说道。于此同时他感觉到有力的双臂紧紧的从后面抱住了他，温暖而富有曲线的身体贴近了他。

　　“的确，”他回答着，尝试着保持声音和呼吸的平稳，即使他被触碰的地方传来阵阵刺痛。他扭头看来看身后，他看见了凯瑞甘，那个他喜爱的梦境中完整而又快乐的凯瑞甘。

　　“我希望我们能永远这样在一起，”她渴望道，将她的拥抱勒的更紧。她把头靠在了他的肩膀上，红色的长发散落在他的肩膀和胸膛。

　　“我也是，”雷诺同意着，用双手扣紧她的双手。“一定会是这样的。”有一瞬间他心中闪过那个他们用作隐匿处的箱型峡谷。

　　他感到后面的凯瑞甘抱得更紧了，而后又放松了下来，她的身体更紧的靠着他。“噢，吉米，”她叹息着，放开了一只手抚摸着他的脸颊。他转向她的怀抱中，惊奇的看见她的双眼闪烁着泪光。“我们会很快再见的。”她小声说道，声音非常沉重，接着轻吻了他的嘴唇。然后她笑了，在既悲伤又得意的笑容中消失了。

　　雷诺坐了起来，梦境离开了他的脑海。他躺在户外而不是帐篷里，泽拉图正俯身看着他，一只粗糙的手搁在他的肩上。这位星灵长者正近距离观察着他，浅绿色的双眼微闭着。

　　“进展顺利吗？”执政官询问道。

　　“很完美，”雷诺回答着起身，将一只手伸过头顶，颤抖着驱散脑海中最后一点睡意。“她上钩了。”他对泽拉图露齿而笑。“我准确的说出了我们讨论的谈话内容，想象也在预定的时间展现了。”嗤嗤的笑容荡漾在这位黑暗圣堂武士脸上，泽拉图的双眼稍微变宽了——很明确的愉悦迹象。“刀锋女王的确强大，”他解释道，“然而我已经有几个世纪心灵交流的经验了。我知道许多能令她深信不疑的戏法，任何一个都能让她失去全部的敏锐。”

　　“没错，”雷诺同意着，揉了揉脖子后面。“她总是这样。”

　　在塔萨达打搅到他们，并继续靠近时，侧面的一个动作引起了雷诺的注意。他们一致认为他与两位星灵保持连接有可能引起凯瑞甘的怀疑。

　　“准备就绪，”雷诺向正在点头的执行官保证道。

　　“你确定？”塔萨达轻声问道，雷诺了解他的意思。两位星灵都明白他对凯瑞甘仍有深厚的感情。

　　“这次攻击不需要你参与，”泽拉图约定道。“你的部分已经完成了。你可以站在一边，把剩下的事留给我们，从战斗中解放了。”

　　“谢谢，”雷诺一边回答，一边思考着。他们知道，狂战士和黑暗圣堂武士多半有能力独自完成，但更希望有雷诺和他的人在旁边。尽管卡维兹和艾伯娜西会按他说的做，甚至在没有他的情况下指挥战斗，但他们都知道他不能只是坐在一旁看着他的伞兵进入战场。没有什么能使他让他的朋友们独自冒险。

　　“我能处理的，”他缓慢的说着，在脑海与心灵中搜索着。“打倒她，的确很痛苦。但我能行。我不得不这样做。我们都是如此。”他再次想到了凯瑞甘，想到了她被改变的时候、她嘲弄着敌人的时候、她舔食利爪上的鲜血时、嘲笑着他们的不幸与战栗时。是的，他所爱的女人依旧在那，但她已不仅如此了。她不再是莎拉·凯瑞甘，而是刀锋女王——她是敌人，并且由于他们，她必须死。

　　“这很好。”塔萨达将一只手搁在了雷诺的肩上，他能感觉到这位高大的星灵流露出的同情与支持。“我们共同战斗，我们的命运仍将被束缚在一起。”执行官也向泽拉图点了点头，然后开始行动，他很快大步流星的越过了山脊，走向了位于他们不远处的山洞。他们故意选择了离虫巢入口很近的地点扎营。

　　“能不能向我解释一下为什么是他去而不是你？”雷诺在他们俩看着他们的朋友消失时问道。“你以前干过这事。”

　　“的确，”泽拉图答道，他的思维在他们谈论到重大事件时有时会携带着沉重的回声。“但他需要经验。”这也是他在建议圣堂武士来处理计划的这一部分时对塔萨达说的。“我已经演示过技巧了，”执政官解释道，“但要完全掌握它，必须亲身实践。”

　　“好吧，”雷诺最终说道，他从最后见到塔萨达的地方转过脸。“我们开始干吧。”

　　感觉像是过了几个小时，但雷诺从他的制服了解到，在第一只异虫出现前才过了十分钟。他在看见什么前听到了声音。

　　“你确定这明智吗，女主人”这个颤抖的声音，雷诺知道它一定来自一个领主。“派出我们的全部力量在我们还无法确定——”

　　“安静点！”凯瑞甘发出嘘声，这个领主明智的服从了。“我厌倦了这个游戏！我们会找到这些小圣堂武士和他们的玩伴，然后一起碾碎！”

　　雷诺转身向他的人发出了信号，他们正沿着山脊站在他旁边。他不敢冒险离异虫太近口头交流，不过没关系，他们已经事先解决了这个问题。

　　“去，侦查那个区域，”凯瑞甘片刻后命令道，雷诺肯定他感觉到了领主飞行时引起的气流。

　　在他的制服标记这只靠近的异虫前，它好像只是一阵心跳，他强迫自己静止不动，并打着手势让其他人也这么做。他们蹲着，隐藏在岩石突出部分之后，盔甲上涂了一层灰烬后让他们与周围更协调。

　　最后，他看见影子落在他左边的石头上，了解到领主已经来了。片刻后他听见了它的叫声。

　　“我找到他们了，女主人！”它的精神呐喊带着欣喜与自豪。“他们在峡谷中，就像你说的那样！”

　　雷诺已经等候多时了。“现在！”他喊道，诺恩和玲开火了。他们的来复枪对准领主，将这个庞大的异虫撕成碎片，从离雷诺不远的山脊间落下。

　　它的尸体一开始下落，他和他的人就开始行动了。下面的星灵也一样。他们利用塔萨达为此事先找出的小径，爬出山谷。雷诺放低重心奔跑着，直到他的人都安全的到达了山脊突出部分的掩护之下，并花去了一小会来寻找需要的空间。

　　“他们消灭了你的领主，女主人！”他听见附近的一只异虫报告道，但这个生物超出了他制服的搜索范围。他只能依靠凯瑞甘的精神力量才能完整的听见它们的交流。

　　“这不是问题，”她回答道。“我们已经知道他们在哪了。填满整个峡谷，我的氏族！用你们的血肉充满谷壁！用你们的尸体让这些人类和星灵窒息！不留活口！”

　　“它们来了，”雷诺低语着，双手勒紧来复枪筒并反射性的检查制服的数据。绿色显示在控制板上。他准备好了，至少是身体上。心灵上，他无法确定。他能否杀死凯瑞甘如果他面临着这样的选择？这即将揭晓。

　　异虫如凯瑞甘指挥的那样正沸腾的翻越山脊，通过谷口。它们比雷诺大洞穴之行以来的任何时候都要多，至少几百只。尽管他们精心的计划，但他还是有点动摇。他们要杀死所有的异虫，她的氏族仍超过他们至少三倍！如果事情不能按照计划发展，这将轻易变成一场屠杀——他和他的人以及他的盟友将成为牺牲品。

　　他相信塔萨达会完结最后的部分，他也不认为这位圣堂武士像考虑过失败的样子。

　　等待总是艰难的。雷诺的每一块肌肉、每一份冲动都尖啸着让他站起来开火。这有太多的异虫，子弹无疑会精确的命中。但这不在计划中。他一遍又一遍的提醒自己，必须坚持计划。这是他们唯一生还的机会，更不用说要赢得胜利了。

　　当氏族停止攀爬，开始向下进入峡谷时，他听见它们的精神叫声由欢乐变成了混乱，由憎恨变成了愤怒。有许多蹒跚而行的异虫仅仅是被它们疯狂冲锋的同胞拽到谷底的。很快，所有的异虫到了那，漫无目标的疯狂寻找可以攻击的东西。

　　唯一的问题是，这什么都没有。

　　“什么？”凯瑞甘是最后一个下来的，翼尖展开好像是为了缓冲，当她滑落道谷底时长长的爪子扎进了石头。这还是与星灵结盟以来雷诺首次见到她本人。他屏住了呼吸，无视那些梦境，不管她变成了什么，忘却了她曾经的美丽与她的在场带来的震撼。如果他现在面对着她，将没有能力开枪或是做任何事。幸运的是，她的注意力集中在了其他地方。具体的说，是在峡谷的地面上——那儿明显缺乏目标。

　　“他们在哪？”她尖啸着，双翼愤怒的张开，双爪猛然合上，好像要将她狩猎中的每一份空气撕碎。“他们在这！”

　　她的氏族也在寻找，但没有回音。它们也不知道，只好站在那，不知道下一步怎么办。

　　这是最佳时机。“现在！”雷诺小声说，尽管他知道没人能听见。但没关系，这次他不是唯一一个发出信号的人。

　　从他的有利位置，他正好看见靠近峡谷远端阴翳的岩架。然后他用制服的目标系统放大了，看见一端发出了昏暗的绿光。甚至不用直接看见他都知道那是泽拉图，并且知晓刚才执政官正通过他与塔萨达的连接进行心灵感应。

　　而执行官，得到了他等待多时的精神信号，悄悄接近他的目标，展开了攻击。

　　“啊~”凯瑞甘眩晕着后退，双手紧扣在头上，她踉跄时翼尖刮擦着谷壁。她周围的氏族全都陷入了混乱与狂暴。

　　“不！停下！”她吼叫着，一只手仍压着太阳穴，但这毫无作用。整个氏族已经失控了。

　　这是雷诺和他的人起身射击的信号。异虫们无法控制自己，在它们还不足以了解到它们的敌人站在山脊上而不是山谷中时，就已经倒在了弹幕中。

　　“就像瓮中捉鳖！”诺恩将一只刺蛇炸成两半时喊道。“该死！”

　　它完全消失了。

　　他们知道他们无法在一场公平在战斗中击败凯瑞甘和她的氏族。因此他们确保这场战斗不是公平的。首先，雷诺让她看见他们的位置。然后，让她的领主来确认。但他们只留下一小部分星灵在峡谷中，仅仅足够让这只异虫相信它看见了全部的部队。一旦它死了，他们就把所有人拉上谷壁。峡谷高耸陡峭的岩壁和空旷谷底，形成了一个完美的杀戮场所。异虫们认为它们能出其不意的涌进峡谷，并在它们的敌人得以反应或逃跑之前击垮他们。但它们没有料到，雷诺、塔萨达和泽拉图导演了这一切。

　　它们无一知晓，就在凯瑞甘领着她的整个氏族离开山洞时，塔萨达隐蔽在阴影中，悄悄溜过了它们。然后等在那只体积太大而独自留在洞穴中，没有名字的脑体身边。当泽拉图一声令下，塔萨达就如泽拉图先前对扎兹所做的那样——杀掉这个脑体并切断它与氏族的联系。

　　使它们陷入疯狂。

　　当然，凯瑞甘也强大到足以控制他的氏族。但她没有被训练过，或者说没有受过这方面的教育。她不是为了这种目的被创造的。因此脑体死亡时，她没有能力接管并重建这些连接。无力去阻止她的氏族在暴乱中崩坏——它们正反射性的互相屠杀。

　　而高处的火力让它们更快的被击垮。

　　“出来，小圣堂武士！”凯瑞甘咆哮着，用一只手上的爪子刮削着谷壁强调道。雷诺的几个伞兵用来复枪瞄准了她，但高速的金属钉刺对命中她迟疑了，在溅起一阵火花后弹开，发亮的落进四周的空气中。她忽略了他们，不管是武器还是射手都一样。“我知道你在这！”她吼叫着，双眼在她寻找着每一个角落时变得狭窄。“我能感觉到你！出来见我！”

　　片刻后，没有回音。凯瑞甘伸出双手，抓住了空中的一只吞噬者，她的翅膀将它钉在了旁边的谷壁上。“服从！”她命令道，雷诺确定他看见了一条黄绿色的光线，从她的双眼跃入了那只被俘的异虫眼中。它立刻停止了挣扎，并且当她放开时，盘旋在她的上空待命。她数次故技重施，直到有五个吞噬者再次和她连接。然后她笑着，直直的看着雷诺。

　　“杀了这些人类，”她指示道，这些空中异虫很快服从了。

　　接着她驯服了三只刺蛇，命令它们清扫峡谷的边缘——避开它们仍旧疯狂的同胞，并寻找那群难以捉摸的星灵。雷诺只是瞥了一眼她的行动，因为他和他的人都忙着对付那些吞噬者——它们飞的太快了以至于无法在这样近的距离击落。到最后一只落下时，雷诺已经失去了几个伞兵，而且需要一些时间才能再次找到凯瑞甘。

　　现在，她氏族的一大部分已经阵亡，它们的尸体散落在峡谷的地面上。星灵显然已经厌倦了等待，也许是他们认为她需要一份特殊关照，来阻止她继续恢复对剩余仆从的控制。无论如何，在雷诺离开最后一只吞噬者的尸体时，正好瞥见两个狂战士跳向凯瑞甘，心灵刀刃划出的弧线闪闪发光。

　　凯瑞甘的翼尖阻挡了第一个星灵战士的攻击，在途中穿过了他的手臂，她的爪子从第二个的肩膀撕下了他的一臂，在一阵血雨中扔到一旁。然后她的翼尖洞穿了第一个的胸膛、脖子和头部，同时反手切下了第二个的头颅。她让两具尸体在身后倒下，并已经注意到了他们的来的地方，然后转身走向岩架。

　　紧接着攻击她的是两个黑暗圣堂武士，他们从两边的阴影中显现，将心灵刀刃快速的刺向她。但她显然感觉到了他们的存在，并用双翼在在接触到以前逼退了他们。一个撞到了一只雷兽，被它咆哮着用巨大的獠牙切开了身体。另一个站稳了并再次攻击，但凯瑞甘的双爪已经穿透了他的胸膛，这个可怜的星灵在身体着地前就已经死去。

　　凯瑞甘站立着，擦拭着双爪上的鲜血。“我再说一次，”她呼喊道，“我已经厌倦了屠杀你们的随从。强大的圣堂武士失去了一贯的勇敢吗？”

　　“说的好，异虫的姘头，”泽拉图仍旧隐藏在阴影中回答着，他的话语回荡在山谷间，其中携带的力量甚至让几个跳虫因无助的痉挛而瘫倒。“尽管我们从阴影中发动攻击，”执政官继续着，“但不要以为我们缺乏站在阳光下的勇气。你最好放弃这次进攻。”

　　“你好像对你的能力过于自信，暗影之徒，”凯瑞甘吼叫着，双眼试图烧掉藏在岩架上的阴影。“我不是只会躲着黑暗中进攻的无用脑体。我是刀锋女王，我的视线就能将你化为灰烬。”她大步流星的走向山谷的尽头，那里的异虫非常聪明的让开了路。“你和你的同胞们将无法再供我消遣了，”她在靠近岩架时大喊道。然后她拍打着双翼跃起，到达了岩架。“准备好被永远遗忘吧，”她宣布着，阴暗的黄光从她身体里散发出来，逼退了阴影。泽拉图和他的黑暗圣堂武士出现在她的面前，当她看见他时，她笑了，一个阴险又饱含饥饿的笑。

　　“现在，星灵，”她几乎叫了起来，并收紧了双翼和爪子，“你将了解我的狂怒。现在，你将了解刀锋女王的狂怒！”

　　她发动了猛烈的攻击，翼尖刺穿了最近的一个黑暗圣堂武士，并将他抛入了岩架下仍处于暴乱的虫群里。泽拉图打着手势，他其余的黑暗圣堂武士纵身跳下岩架，绕开疯狂的虫群，朝着雷诺和他的人所在的山脊向上爬着，并在途中截杀那些脱离混乱的异虫。执政官本人平静的等着凯瑞甘，他的双眼异常炫目，当的心灵刀刃显现时，一束光应答一般浮现在他的手腕上。

　　“来吧，女王，”他挑衅道，“看看谁比上次相遇时进步更多。”黑暗再次在他四周上升，但没有使他隐藏起来。而是聚集在他周围就像一个罩子——为了防护，塔萨达最近以许多不同的方法使用过。

　　塔萨达！是泽拉图想到执行官曾经用过这种方式还是这纯粹是个巧合？雷诺突然瞥见了峡谷后壁顶端的一个动作，就位于那片岩架的上方。那只是一次纯粹的闪光而已，只是色彩衬着布满灰烬的岩石的微弱迹象，但不知怎么的他了解了它的意义。塔萨达回来了！由于这个线索，雷诺又领悟到了另一些东西——泽拉图在静静的等待时机，直到执行官能和他一起发动攻势。

　　“噢，该死，”雷诺喃喃道。“卡维兹，艾伯娜西，让所有人提高警惕，我有些事要做。”然后他开始环绕着峡谷侧面前进，双眼仍集中在那边的岩架上，手中的来复枪随意的射击着异虫。

　　在计划期间，他和两位星灵指挥官一致认为他们中没有人能独自打倒凯瑞甘。其中两人也许有机会，但三人会进行的更顺利。这就是他们的决定——三人一起并同时进攻她。而现在，泽拉图和塔萨达正在没有他的情况下进入战斗状态。该死！一方面，他为他们将他排除在攻势之外而愤慨。另一方面，他又为他不用在战场上面对凯瑞甘、不用做出如此艰难的抉择而宽慰。又一方面，他了解到他的朋友们之所以在没有他的情况下行动，正是为了使他免于这个抉择。

　　“我说过我能做到，”他在沿着山脊跑到半路时自言自语道，“我就会做到的。”

　　泽拉图嘲弄着凯瑞甘，仍旧待在她的攻击范围外。塔萨达几乎已经到达了岩架，正小心翼翼的移动着，峡谷中的噪音提供了有效的掩护。只要雷诺奋力一跳。下一秒，他们就将发动攻势。

　　但他们没能做到。

　　“够了！”凯瑞甘大喊道，她的情绪最终失去了控制。她冲向泽拉图，两肩上的双翼向前刺出，打定主意刺穿并撕碎他。他的黑暗阻碍着这次攻击，但没能完全挡下。在她用爪子刺向他时，她身上光芒将暗影刺穿。当他躲开了她右臂的一击时，左边的攻击打在了他的肩膀上，流下了深深的伤痕。他因痛苦而紧锁眉头，但并未倒下或是摇摇欲坠。

　　“现在不敢说大话了？小星灵，”凯瑞甘愚弄道，在他面前挥舞着爪子。“不敢挑衅或是躲起来了？没什么可说的了？”泽拉图没有回答。“那就死吧！”

　　她将爪子和双翼同时刺向了他的胸膛。雷诺看见了她的突进，放弃了精准的跳跃，用力将自己抛向了她。并在半空中转身踢向她的背部，想将她撞倒在地。

　　但他不够快。

　　幸运的是，塔萨达足够。

　　这位高阶圣堂武士位于岩架的正上方，在她开始攻击时双手抓紧泽拉图上方的岩石荡了下来，伸直双腿猛然扫击凯瑞甘的一侧，使得她的爪子和翼尖在离泽拉图数英寸远处无害的擦过了谷壁。然后松开了手，落在了他的导师身旁。

　　“现在，刀锋女王，”他宣布道，“你将面对我们两人。”

　　凯瑞甘站直了准备回应，但在她开始说话前，雷诺的双腿全力击中了她，将她击倒在地。他也使自己绊倒了，但他一只手撑住了地面，保持着正常的姿势。

　　现在，他们都在这了，他、塔萨达和泽拉图，粗略成一个三角形。凯瑞甘在他们之间站了起来。

　　第一个做出反应的是塔萨达。他的心灵刀刃在他屈膝时闪现，挥向她的头颈。她的翼尖向上划出弧线，接住了他的手腕，回转了攻击。

　　泽拉图在塔萨达的右边，他的心灵刀刃没有瞄准凯瑞甘的头部，而是翅膀。这一击击中了，凯瑞甘在绿色的光芒切进她的附肢时尖叫着，脓液从伤口渗了出来。

　　雷诺也俯身准备好来复枪筒，他将枪管放在她的头部——压制着内心深处的哭泣——扣下了扳机。

　　正在他这样做时，凯瑞甘迅速蹲下，一条腿扫向雷诺，无视制服的伺服系统将他掀翻，枪打出的钉刺呈弧线打进了谷壁。她在他倒地前像巨大的蜘蛛一样抱住了他，脸离他的头盔只有几英寸。

　　“我们待会再玩，吉米，”凯瑞甘双眼闪烁着光芒，轻轻向他保证道。并在她的手指快速的划过他的一侧时，吻了吻他面罩。然后她转身离开了，雷诺尝试着站起，但他发现自己无法动弹，他的制服被冻结了。

　　“该死！”雷诺迸发出全部的咒骂，并尽其所能的在制服的范围内用力颠簸着。她启动了紧急情况封锁！这用于帮助那些受伤的士兵保持站立，或是在爆炸前关闭那些短路的制服。凯瑞甘至少跟他一样了解这些制服，也许更好，她激活了他的封锁，他被困在了里面，直到有人解开它。他唯一能做的就是躺在岩架上，看着就在他眼前发生的战斗。现在，他没机会参与了，他想做点什么，这比一切都重要。

　　他望着泽拉图和塔萨达对抗着凯瑞甘，他们的心灵刀刃与她的双翼和双爪战斗着。两个星灵行动非常完美，每一个动作都互相补充，攻击极为协调，如同光与影、力量与智慧、知识与能量的融合。雷诺知道很少有生物能在这种压倒性的攻击下生还。

　　凯瑞甘就是其中之一。

　　她的双翼好像在按自己的意愿行动，似乎，格挡还是进攻都不是她有意识的在控制，因此她总是与背后的盟友共同战斗着。翼尖阻挡进攻并回报以刺击，几次划伤了两位星灵，她的双爪同样迅速的在他们的皮肤上留下伤痕。笼罩着她的黄光增强了，削弱了阴影并阻碍了光芒。她的行动带着豹的优雅与危险，敏捷、优美而且致命。

　　塔萨达驱剑刺向凯瑞甘的心脏，她的双翼将他的手腕夹在中间，剑尖在胸前几英寸的地方停下。她旋转着，抬起双手抓住他的手腕，双翼张开将泽拉图用力掷回谷壁，他跪倒了。塔萨达在周围升起了阴影，但凯瑞甘用发光的翼尖撕碎了它，然后她慢了下来，故意在他周围穿梭，直到痛苦让他退却，阴影也消散了。

　　“再次陷入绝境了吗？小星灵，”她对塔萨达轻声说着，用力将他拉回，直到嘴唇扫过他坚韧的脸颊。“这一切好像似曾相识，对吗？”她微笑着，收拢单翼撑着他，痛苦太剧烈了，如果没有她的支持他甚至会倒下。“我们的小剧本演完了。我发誓要慢慢杀了你，但我不想这么做，留着你太危险了。所以，永别了！小星灵，你带给我了一场愉快的追猎。”她吻了吻他的额头，另一翼在她身后抬起，翼尖弯曲着准备立刻刺向他的三个心脏。

　　“不！”泽拉图的哭喊超越了他们的心灵，动摇着四周的岩石，几颗松动的岩石落入谷中压倒了许多残存的异虫。而凯瑞甘只是笑了笑。

　　“别担心，黑暗圣堂武士，”她保证道。“待会就轮到你。”然后缓慢的她转身，双眼挑逗着雷诺。“你，我会留到最后的，亲爱的吉米。”她的翼尖再次张开，然后刺向————这时不远处的岩架被一束强烈而无色的光芒磨灭，她被淹没在了灰烬之雨中。

　　光线来自一艘突然降临的优雅飞船。

　　一艘星灵飞船。

　　第二束光线射出，切开了更多岩架。一打异虫也因为被靠近洞穴底部的光线捕捉到而消失。凯瑞甘蹒跚的后退，一臂在强光中护住双眼。当她离开时，塔萨达卧倒在地。

　　“这还没完，”她向那三个倒在地上的家伙保证道。“这笔帐总有一天会清算的。”然后她跳了起来，爪子深深扎进头顶的岩石中，将自己荡上了山脊，飞快的越过顶部，从视野中消失了。

　　“的确会的。”泽拉图的声音非常轻，雷诺想知道这是一种回答还是仅仅是执政官的沉思。“但是为了谁而清算呢？”执政官上前帮助塔萨达了站起来。

　　“你能站起来吗？詹姆斯·雷诺。”塔萨达片刻后问道，他不顾自己的伤口，步履蹒跚的到达了雷诺所躺的位置。（这里他说的是James，不是Jim）

　　“只是没有解锁而已，”雷诺回答道。“帮下忙好吗？”他想着移除封锁的过程，然后这位高大的星灵点了点头复制了这个过程。在制服的警告灯熄灭，他又重新获得了控制权时，雷诺宽慰的叹了口气，接着抓住他朋友的手站了起来。

　　“不错，”他在重新走起来后说道。他瞥了瞥星灵飞船，仍在降落中，落向了下面的战场。凯瑞甘的氏族绝大多数已经阵亡，尽管其中也躺着一些星灵和人类的尸体，但目前为止伤亡最大的是异虫。雷诺向他的两位盟友笑了笑。

　　“事情比我预期的要好。”

尾声

　　他们站在那，看着飞船降落。雷诺注意到泽拉图退回阴影里，在雷诺转身想要交谈时，消失在了周围的风景中。

　　“嘿！”雷诺说，“怎么回事？”

　　塔萨达也转过身，尽管执政官好像很不愿意，但他又从黑暗中出现了。“我们回归于我们同胞的时刻还未来到，”他严肃的告诉他们。“飞船降落时，我们最好不在。”

　　雷诺想要抗议，但塔萨达只是点了点头并向前迈进。“我会尊重你的决定，”执行官陈述道，他的思绪总是那样缓和而有力。他将他的双臂搁在了这位星灵长者的两肩上。“但我们将失去你的引导……我的兄弟。”

　　泽拉图也将双手放在了塔萨达的肩上。“谢谢你，我的兄弟。要知道，你会一直存在于我的思想中，一直如此贴近我的灵魂。如果你需要我，我就会找到你的。”然后他转向雷诺，深深的点点头，下巴碰到了胸口。“一路顺风，詹姆斯·雷诺，”黑暗圣堂武士吟唱着，他的话语如同银铃般清脆的掠过雷诺的脑海。“你有一颗星灵的灵魂，我承认你是我的异族兄弟。如果你需要帮助，我也会出现在你面前的。”

　　“谢谢，”雷诺紧紧扣住了泽拉图的一只手。“但你要去哪？”他将剩下的一只手指向正在下降的飞船。“这是回家唯一的方法。”

　　泽拉图双眼微闭，作出了雷诺认为是微笑的表情。“并不完全是，”他承认道。

　　“什么？那个脑体达苟斯说，它摧毁了你们双方的飞船！”

　　“它是这么想的，”执政官说道。“但数个世纪里我磨练着每一个行动，并在很久以前精通了这种异虫无法识破的幻象。”雷诺能听到这位星灵长者的精神笑声。“尽管它认为它完成了使命，但虚空的探索者号已经在等待着我的回归了。”

　　“等等。”雷诺摇了摇头，确定他没听错。“你是说你的飞船没有受损？”泽拉图点了点头。“既然你能随时离开？那到底是为什么我们要在这呆上数周，不，是数月！到底为什么你要在这徘徊？为什么不离开这颗大石头？”

　　执政官浅绿色的双眼诚实的看着他。“那并非我的使命，”他答道，转身看了看塔萨达。“我应该在这，和你们一起。这样我们种族的未来才会不再渺茫。”然后，他无声的弯下腰后退，消失在了阴影中。

　　“唉。”雷诺凝视了他片刻，然后转向塔萨达。“我猜只有我们留下，是吗？”高大的星灵点了点头——他没有注视着泽拉图离开，正再次观察着那艘降临的飞船。

　　他们一起看着那艘飞船最终着陆。它几乎跟塔萨达的飞船一模一样，雷诺思考着这跟他看着执行官的飞船降落时的不同。那时星灵还是一个陌生的外星种族，可能是盟友也有可能是敌人，危险而未知。现在，他正和他们的一位指挥官肩并肩的站着，并且了解他和他的人一生都将信任着这些星灵。降落仅仅是一段短暂的时间，但感觉起来却恍如隔世。

　　跳板从飞船的一侧展开时，多彩的舱门打开了。几个星灵勇士走了出来，在跳板的底部排列开来，并在两个高大的身影跟着下来时，笔直的站立着。雷诺立刻辨认出，塔萨达在泽拉图的帮助下警告他的人民关于虫群的入侵时，他曾经见过两人。走在前面的是艾尔达瑞斯，穿着红金相间的厚重长袍，宽大的兜帽仍遮住他的脸，只有蓝灰色的双眼在阴影中清晰可辨。另一个身影是艾尔达瑞斯称他为执行官而塔萨达叫他阿尔坦尼斯的星灵。尽管他的装束与塔萨达完全相同，但他的衣物和盔甲在阳光中是那样耀眼，显然这位星灵还未受过伤。他天蓝色的眼睛立刻锁定了塔萨达，并在靠近期间一直注视着他。眼神中混合着友好、尊敬与窘迫。

　　塔萨达了看见两人，并急切的向前，他的双眼像着火一般，雷诺跟在了他身后。

　　“艾尔达瑞斯？”塔萨达在他靠近时呼唤着。“阿尔坦尼斯？你们怎么来这了？我几乎就要放弃所有救援的希望了！”

　　他现在正与两位新来者面对面，雷诺站在塔萨达的右边。高阶圣堂武士身体微弓，做出尊敬对方的样子，而阿尔坦尼斯做出与他对应的行动。艾尔达瑞斯则没有，然而他的双眼变窄了。

　　“我是来逮捕你的，”执法官陈述道，他的精神声音如同他的双眼一般冷酷与遥远，“并将你带回艾尔受审。”

　　塔萨达站直了身体，稍微退回了一点，双眼显露出明显的惊讶。“逮捕我？艾尔正在异虫的战火中燃烧，而你远道而来就是为了逮捕我？”

　　“别让他带走你，伙计，”雷诺说着，同时了解到他的朋友将经历什么。“这在我身上曾发生过一次……”他回想着自己被捕的经历，回忆着在玛尔·萨拉上那件相同事情，以及迈克·利伯蒂如何救出他并将他介绍给阿克图拉斯·孟斯克。那是他漫长旅程的第一步。

　　艾尔达瑞斯转身凝视着他，双眼充满寒意。“这个人类是谁？塔萨达，”雷诺听出了这个提问中的轻蔑。

　　“我的名字是吉姆·雷诺，朋友”他回答着，上前怒视着这位星灵指挥官。“我不想被任何指责，即使是一个星灵。”

　　“有趣……”艾尔达瑞斯说着，尽管他的眼睛和语气并不幽默。“塔萨达，你对同伴的品味成长的更加令人费解。”他转向阿尔坦尼斯。“执行官，准备将塔萨达关进监狱。”

　　塔萨达转身仔细观察着第二个星灵，他的双眼有一瞬间变窄了，然后他点点头。“我之前没有完全注意到头衔的变化，”他承认道。“你已经升迁到了我以前的职位，阿尔坦尼斯。我猜，我不再拥有那个头衔了，是吗？”

　　阿尔坦尼斯显得有些不安，雷诺认为他一定很年轻。这位天蓝色眼睛的星灵在某些方面让他想起卡维兹。“最高议会认为这样最好，”新执行官答道。“对不起，塔萨达。”雷诺能感觉道这个勇士的诚意，他相信塔萨达也一定可以。

　　“你做出了明智的选择，”塔萨达向这位年轻的星灵保证道。“我了解你会很好的保护我们的人民。”阿尔坦尼斯埋下了头，雷诺确信他正在脸红——如果星灵能做到这个动作的话。

　　“够了，”艾尔达瑞斯命令道，同时打着手势召集附近的守卫。“你将被收监，塔萨达——你和你的同伴——直到我们回到艾尔对你宣判并处以刑罚。”话语中的轻蔑无疑来自于执法官所期待的审判。

　　“执行官，等等，”塔萨达要求着，举起双手。“我不知道他们告诉了你什么，但我所做的一切都是为了艾尔。帮助我找到泽拉图和他的黑暗圣堂武士。”尽管他注意到艾尔达瑞斯和许多守卫在那姓名前退却了，但他忽略了他们。“他们是唯一能摧毁主宰的脑体之人。一旦我们胜利了，我会很乐意将自己送去最高议会受审的。”

　　艾尔达瑞斯的双眼中燃烧着愤怒。“简直不敢想象！”他宣布着，话语如同钢铁的脆响。“你认为我们会像你一样，同那些黑暗之徒站在一边吗？你太疯狂了，塔萨达。”

　　塔萨达双眼张大，甚至艾尔达瑞斯都明显因敬畏执行官的力量而退后。“你提起他们时应该学会尊重，艾尔达瑞斯。”然后他让自己冷静了下来，转向阿尔坦尼斯。“执行官，我有太多要向你解释了，希望你会帮我找到泽拉图。”

　　“我想他说他不准备重新加入你们的社会，”雷诺平静的指出。

　　“他只是说还不是时候，”塔萨达修正道。“然而我已经考虑过了，我相信如果我们要保护我们的家园，就必须再次站在一起。”

　　“你不认为他已经上了飞船了吗？”雷诺问道。塔萨达摇了摇头。

　　“我们的心依旧是相连的，”这位高阶圣堂武士解释道。“我能知道他是否已经离开这个世界。”他再次转向那些新来的星灵，但不是他面前恼怒的艾尔达瑞斯，而是阿尔坦尼斯和他身后的战士。“听我说，我的同胞们，”他大喊着，话语中的镇定掠过了每个人的心灵。“你们了解我。我，塔萨达，高阶圣堂武士以及曾经的执行官。然而，我现在不是作为一个领袖而是作为你们的兄弟对你们说，我们的家园，我们的人民正处于危险之中。唯有恢复我们古老的天赋才能拯救他们。只有那些我们误解了数个世纪的黑暗圣堂武士才能帮助我们。”那些战士一动不动，无人接受亦无人反对，塔萨达点点头继续道。“如果你们仍无法接受他们，好吧。但我请求你们相信我，这的确是我们唯一生还的方法。”

　　“你已经被腐化了！”艾尔达瑞斯断言道，但阿尔坦尼斯上前，手心向外的伸出了一只手。塔萨达作出了回应，这两个星灵的手紧紧的握在了一起，微弱的光在他们四周形成。他们就这样站了片刻，直到年轻的执行官放下手臂并退回时。

　　“你思维的方向与众不同，”阿尔坦尼斯承认道，“但你无染于邪恶，你献身于我们的家园时，我们的人民一如既往的强大。”他身体微弓。“我相信你的智慧，高贵的塔萨达。如你所愿。”

　　“你要公然抗命吗？”艾尔达瑞斯的质问如同尖刀般锐利，雷诺能感觉到其中的愤怒，并了解到他是一个危险的敌人。尽管阿尔坦尼斯很年轻，但他镇定的面对着执法官。

　　“你希望塔萨达回到艾尔，”他陈述道。“他会回去的。然而，我们将不会将他视为一个囚犯，他那令人永生难忘的功绩为他赢得了尊重。让他在最高议会摘下他的头之前离开，好让他们听听他的意见，自己判断他所做的是不是对的。我们会如塔萨达所说的那样，找回那些黑暗圣堂武士，在最高议会之前带回他们。以确保我们的人民知道事情的真相，以及不会有人在卡拉内装聋作哑。”雷诺感到有片刻这位年轻的执行官双眼中闪耀着鲜艳的钴蓝色，极富力量的一瞥勇敢的挑战着执法官的权威，同时等待着他的选择。艾尔达瑞斯后退了，并且没有再做出反对，这显然就是他的回答。侧面的四个战士走了过来，但雷诺看的出他们微弓着身体，已经再次像长官一样对待塔萨达了，或者至少是贵宾而不是囚犯。

　　“真诚的感谢你，执行官，”塔萨达对阿尔坦尼斯说道，并点了点头作为回报。“现在，让我们找到泽拉图，并快点返回我们的家园。”

　　他转向雷诺，“你怎么办，詹姆斯·雷诺？”

　　雷诺正要回答，但一盏灯在他的头盔里闪烁了起来。他花去片刻来思考它的含义。这是一次呼叫。

　　他凝视了片刻。呼叫？他和他的人通过穿梭机进行通讯——在异虫摧毁它后他们失去了所有视线以外的通话能力。而这个信号对于穿梭机来说太强了。他慎重的打开了连线。“雷诺，”他说道。

　　“首领？”这是一个他完全熟悉的年轻男性的声音。他期望听到这个声音已经数周了，在他回答时仍感到双眼充满了泪水。

　　“玛特？玛特！该死，真高兴听见你的声音，孩子！”他扫视着头上的天空，确信他看见了远处一个熟悉的轮廓。休伯利安号！

　　“谢谢你，长官，”玛特·霍尼尔答道。“我也一样。对分开了这么久感到抱歉。”——他的听上去有些窘迫，雷诺几乎看见了这位年轻的副官坐在船长椅上，神情不安的样子，这让雷诺想起正在毯子上撒尿的小狗——“但紧急跳跃带我们脱离困境时崩溃了一部分系统。在回来以前我们得做不少修理。”

　　“别担心，”雷诺说。“我只是看到你回来太高兴了。你能派个人下来接我们吗？”

　　“已经这样做了，长官”霍尔尼答道。“贝洛克锁定了你的信号，穿梭机已经在半路上了。”雷诺模糊的回忆起贝洛克——那个又矮又胖，常常在最糟糕的时刻大笑的家伙。但他现在想在见到他时立刻吻吻他。

　　“很好，我们会在这等着的。”他说完，关闭了连线。

　　“我很高兴你的飞船返航了，”他转身，发现塔萨达正注视着他，这个星灵的蓝眼睛中能看到一种共鸣。“这样你也能离开这个世界了。”

　　“是的。”雷诺回想起，他是为了救回凯瑞甘才来这的，可他失败了，许多士兵死去了。但他遇见了塔萨达和泽拉图，与他们建立起一份友谊，一份维系在两个不同的种族之间的友谊。也许这全是值得的，雷诺这样想着。

　　“你现在准备干些什么？”塔萨达再次发问，忽视了焦躁不安的艾尔达瑞斯和一旁有些迷惑的阿尔坦尼斯。

　　雷诺思考着。尽管人手不足，但他的飞船回来了。卡维兹和艾伯娜西都活了下来，还有麦克默蒂，但他失去了诺恩、玲、德斯兰和其他几个人。包括他自己，全体船员只有40人。要跟孟斯克打上一仗恐怕不够，但也许能在艾尔上大展拳脚。另外，他想看着那个黏黏的主宰得到它应得的下场。凯瑞甘也许也在向星灵的家园前进。而且，他、泽拉图和塔萨达是一个很好的组合。拆散它将会是一个遗憾。

　　“只要你不介意，我会跟着你，”他最后说道。艾尔达瑞斯回避了，显然是在生气。但雷诺忽略了他，专注于与塔萨达的交谈。“我想看到这一切的结束。”

　　阿尔坦尼斯转向塔萨达，不知该作何回应。

　　“詹姆斯·雷诺是一个宝贵的朋友和同盟，”高阶圣堂武士向他保证道。“个人来说我非常欢迎他，对他能跟我们一起感到很荣幸。”

　　得到了塔萨达的提示，阿尔坦尼斯转身向雷诺鞠了一躬。“没关系，詹姆斯·雷诺，”他宣布道，声音正式而缓和，虽然仍有些质疑，但无疑是真诚的。“你和你的人民都是被欢迎的。”

　　雷诺露齿而笑。“既然如此，我们还等什么？”

　　（全文完）

castelu

queen
OF blades



a a r o n r o s e n b e r g




POCKET STAR BOOKS
New York London TorontoSydney


queen

OF blades







queen
OF blades



a a r o n r o s e n b e r g




POCKET STAR BOOKS
New York London TorontoSydney

An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

A Pocket Star Book published by
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and inci-
dents are products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

STARCRAFT2006 Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. All Rights
Reserved. StarCraft and Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. are trademarks
or registered trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. in the U.S.
and/or other countries. All trademarks are the property of their
respective owners.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce
this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue
of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 1-4165-6005-X

POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of
Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Visit us on the World Wide Web:
http://www.SimonSays.com

To Jenifer, my Queen,

and to Adara and Arthur,

our own wonderful brood.


Acknowledgments

Thanks to Luke for the introductions, Chris for his input
and enthusiasm, and Marco for running the show. I’d
also like to thank the people at Blizzard, who built this
great setting and these cool characters, and the StarCraft
fans, who help bring it all to life.

historical note

The events of this book take place roughly six weeks
after the events described in the StarCraft novel Liberty’s
Crusade.

queen

OF blades


PROLOGUE




THE WORLD WENT DARK.
Not just a darkened sky—no mere nightfall could
produce such utter darkness. No, this was the dark of
captivity, confinement, blindness. Nothing visible, no
light, no shadow, only a smothering visual shroud. A
stark contrast to the blinding lights and sudden bursts
of color from just before.
I struggle to make sense of my surroundings. Where
am I?
Nothing but blankness answers, and an instant later
a far larger question looms up, erasing the first. Who
am I?
A wave of panic rises deep within, bile carried along
its edge, threatening to drown me as I realize I cannot
remember. I do not know who I am!
Calm, I tell myself. Calm. I force the panic down,
pushing it back by sheer will, refusing to let it envelop
me. What do you remember, then?
Nothing. No, brief flashes. A battle. A war. Horrid,

2A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


horrible foes, great monstrous beings surrounding me,
dwarfing me. Betrayal—though I cannot recall the act
itself I can still taste the bitter realization of it. Abandon-
ment. Desperation, a last frenzied struggle. The feel of
sinewy flesh pinning me, choking me, killing me. The
light fading around me as the numbness creeps in.
And now this.
Where am I? I stretch my senses to their limit, prob-
ing my surroundings. The results, though hazy and
disjointed, form a single conclusion.
I am being carried.
I can feel the movement, the gentle rocking motion.
Not directly—something cushions me, envelops me,
holds me all around. But that cushioning is moving,
and me with it.
I try lashing out, but my limbs will not cooperate. I
feel sluggish, drained—drugged. Senses dulled, body
leaden, but nerves oddly on fire. I am burning from
within! My flesh crawls, creeps, melts, morphs—I have
no control over my own form anymore. I am changing.
Around me I can feel others shifting. They are not
confined as I am—they are free to move, though their
minds are oddly blunted. They are my captors, con-
veying me in my confinement.
I can hear their thoughts, slithering across me,
through me. A part of me recoils but another part—a
newer part—welcomes their intrusion. Vibrates in
tune with their gibbering, allowing the patterns to res-
onate through me. Changing me further, bringing me
closer to those waiting just beyond.

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 3

The part that is still me, the old me, recoils in horror.
I cannot, I will not become one of these! I must escape!
I must be free! My body is captive but my mind soars,
reaching out for help, any help. I scream, desperate for
anyone to hear.
And, far away, I know that my pleas have been
heard.
Help me!


Rubble lay everywhere, evidence of a city in flames,
a world in demise. Buildings had fallen, vehicles were
crashed and crushed, bodies littered the ground. A sign
still stood near the edge of the destruction, its scorched
surface reading “Welcome to”—the name New Gettys-
burg only a jagged hole with blackened edges. All
manner of bodies, from the pale flesh of the Terrans to
the smooth hides of the protoss to the sinewy blades of
the zerg. People, those not yet dead and unable to
evacuate, ran screaming, wailing for help. Some bran-
dished weapons, crazed beyond rational thought, des-
perate to defend themselves and their families. Others
cowered, weeping, unable to face the end of their
world. A few hid or ran, hoping to escape their fate.
The Swarm ignored them. It had a higher agenda.
The battle had not gone as expected. The Terrans had
put up a strong fight but with fewer soldiers than antic-
ipated. The protoss, the hated protoss, had appeared as
always, gleaming in their battle suits and glowing in
their arrogance, but had rapidly lost focus, dividing
their attentions as if facing not one but two opponents.

4A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


In some places the Swarm had sighted Terrans battling
protoss, a strange but welcome sight. Yes, it had been a
strange battlefield, the sides constantly shifting. But
that was for the Overmind to consider and digest. For
now, the conflict was over, the battle won. The remain-
ing Terrans posed little threat and the protoss had van-
ished once the outcome was clear. For some reason
they had not razed the planet, a fact which had allowed
the Swarm to discover and claim a previously unex-
pected prize.
Now, their linked minds already turned from this
conflict to those stretching out before them, the zerg
marshaled their forces and prepared for their victori-
ous departure.
One brood cleared a path, removing any obstruc-
tions, whether flesh or stone or metal. A second brood
followed close behind, its ranks protectively closed
around its prize. Near the center several ultralisks
moved in close formation, their back-spikes almost
touching. Between them were four hydralisks, thick
arms linked to support the large oblong they held.
Through its rough, sticky shell the cocoon pulsed with
light, though its faint glow was lost amid the fires and
flares and explosions that had once been this city.
“Carefully,” warned the brood’s cerebrate, observ-
ing their progress through the overlord floating just
above the sphere. Because the celebrant itself could
not move, the airborne overlords served as its eyes,
ears, and mouth. “The Chrysalis must not be harmed!”
Obedient to its will, the ultralisks shifted slightly

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 5

closer and slowed their pace, allowing more time for the
brood before them to open the way. Their heavy feet
crushed bone and metal and wood without thought or
pause as they lumbered on, shielding the Chrysalis from
attack.
“We have it, Master,” the cerebrate announced in
the depths of its own mind. “We have your prize.”
“Good.” The reply echoed from within, rising from
the deep well of the zerg hive-mind. “You must watch
over the Chrysalis, and ensure that no harm comes to
the creature within it. Go now and keep safe my
prize.”
Accepting the Overmind’s orders as always, the cer-
ebrate redoubled its efforts, making sure its brood’s
defenses were secure. The Chrysalis would be pro-
tected at all costs.
On the zerg marched, the city burning around
them. At last the Swarm had gathered itself within a
vast crater where once the city’s vaunted lake had
stretched. Now the surface was glass-smooth, seared
by the force of the protoss’s landing ships and
unmarred by the heavy feet that had trekked across
toward the city under siege.
“We are ready, Master,” the cerebrate declared,
arraying its brood around the Chrysalis.
“I am well pleased, young Cerebrate,” the Overmind
answered, the warm glow of its benediction washing
over the cerebrate and through it all the members of its
Swarm. “And so long as my prize remains intact, I shall
remain pleased. Thus, its life and yours shall be made as

6 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


one. As it prospers, so shall you. For you are part of the
Swarm. If ever your flesh should fail, that flesh shall be
made anew. That is my covenant with all cerebrates.”
As the cerebrate swelled with pride, a great dark-
ness descended upon the crater, a shadow of the mass
that drifted into view high above them. Beyond the
upper reaches of the planet’s dying atmosphere hung a
massive storm, a swirl of orange and violet gases that
spun around strange flickering lights. They moved
faster and faster, the colors merging in their fury, until
the center of the storm collapsed in upon itself, light
and color giving way to a shadowy circle far darker
than even the space hovering beyond.
“Now you have grown strong enough to bear the
rigors of warp travel with the Swarm,” the Overmind
stated, its words sending a thrum of power through the
Swarm. “Thus we shall make our exit from this blasted
world and secure the Chrysalis within the Hive Cluster
upon the planet Char.”
As one the first brood rose, soaring high above the
ruined city. They broke free of the planet’s weak, fad-
ing grasp and approached the storm above, pulled into
that yawning, beckoning darkness at its center, and
vanished. The cerebrate felt their transit through the
hive-mind link all zerg shared and allowed a spark of
contentment to linger within its own mind. Then the
Overmind summoned it as well, and the cerebrate
called its brood together, linking them tightly for travel
through the warp. They rose from the crater, letting
the power of the Swarm fill them as they ascended,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S7

and soon the darkness had drowned out all thought,
all sense, as it carried them across the vastness of space
to their destination.
And within the Chrysalis, faintly visible through its
thick skin and viscous contents, a body writhed in
pain. Though not conscious the figure within shifted,
stirred, unable to lie still as the zerg virus penetrated
every cell, changing DNA to match their own. Soon
the Chrysalis would open and the new zerg would
emerge. All the Swarm exulted with the Overmind.
And, as they departed and Tarsonis died behind
them, the mind trapped within the Chrysalis screamed.


CHAPTER 1




Jimmy!
“Aaahh!”
“. . . but of course Mengsk—pardon me, Emperor
Arcturus the First—claims this was all necessary.
According to his spokesperson, the new Terran
Dominion is doing everything necessary to remove the
alien threat and make the colonies safe once more. It
has been almost two months, however. In this
reporter’s opinion . . .”
Jim Raynor lay back down, eyes staring up at the
steel-gray ceiling. He ran one hand over the sweat-
drenched stubble atop his head and felt himself smile
despite the adrenaline still coursing through him. A
quick glance showed a hologram playing on his con-
sole, the tall, slender man captured within conveying
his report with style despite or perhaps because of the
battered leather trench coat and slouch hat he wore.
Mike Liberty. One of the few people left Jim
called friend. Still reporting on Mengsk, even now.

10 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Still trying to get the truth to people who didn’t
want to hear it.
“. . . still reeling from the loss of the Dylarian ship-
yards,” Mike was saying now, and Raynor cocked his
head to listen.
“Arrest warrants have been issued for James Raynor,”
his friend was reporting, “though it is still unclear what
happened. Why would the hero of Antiga Prime sud-
denly turn rogue? And why, after so many months sav-
ing lives, would he unleash such destruction on the
Dylarian shipyards? According to the Dominion Raynor’s
attack could have crippled the fleet, putting everyone at
risk in the case of another alien attack.” He could hear
Mike’s voice dropping and knew what he would see if he
glanced up—his friend was leaning forward slightly, a
faint smile on his face, suddenly a friend confiding
instead of a journalist reporting. “Perhaps Emperor Arc-
turus is simply enraged at the thought that anyone could
walk away from his new rule, particularly one of his
most prized associates. And perhaps these charges have
been manufactured as an excuse to pursue Raynor,
rather than letting the public realize that perhaps the
Emperor’s mandate is not as universal as he might
claim.”
“Heh!” He couldn’t help laughing at that one. Go get
’em, Mike! But the hero of Antiga Prime? Where did
he come up with this stuff? The accolade was as phony
as most of Mengsk’s charges against him.
Of course, the charges were true this time. He had
struck the shipyards. He’d had to. When he’d belted

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S11

Duke, Mengsk’s favorite lackey, and stormed off the
ship after Tarsonis, Raynor had expected to be on his
own again or perhaps down to a handful of his troop-
ers. He’d been unprepared for the wave of support
he’d received from his men. All but a handful had
walked with him, and he’d found himself the head of
a small army. But they were an army without trans-
port, and he knew that Mengsk would never let them
leave so easily. So they’d needed ships, and quickly. It
had seemed safer to go after the shipyards and the ves-
sels housed there than to try stealing active ships from
those still loyal to Mengsk.
It hadn’t been that simple, of course. Mengsk had
guessed his move—whatever else he could say about
the man, the self-styled emperor was an excellent
strategist—and had dispatched Duke in his own flag-
ship, the Hyperion, to head them off. That had been a
mistake.
Knowing he wouldn’t get any more sleep now,
Raynor sat up and rubbed at his jaw under his short
beard, grinning at the memory. Duke was a capable
ship commander, perhaps, and a good general for all
his faults. But he was used to fighting on level ground,
going up against fleets and scoutships. He hadn’t been
prepared to wage a battle through the shipyards,
where his own men couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting
each other or a ship. Raynor had had no such com-
punctions. If a ship was holed they moved on to steal-
ing the next one. He’d lured Duke in close, then used
the shipyard’s own machines to grapple the Hyperion

12 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


and lock her in place. Then he and his boys had over-
run it.
Still laughing, Raynor stood up and crossed the
room, heading for the handsomely appointed bath-
room. Duke’s short fuse had cost him the Hyperion, and
Mengsk had received the first public defeat of his new
Terran Dominion before he’d even declared its forma-
tion. Raynor had left with the Hyperion and a dozen
other ships, his own private fleet, leaving Duke bound
and gagged behind him.
Of course, it had gone downhill from there.
His smile dropping away, Raynor wrenched open
the polished wooden door and glared at the room
beyond. Marble sinktops, porcelain tiles, handsome
faucets and fixtures—this place looked more like a
fancy hotel than a ship captain’s quarters. But they had
been Mengsk’s, and the big man did like his comforts.
Raynor had been tempted to rip them all out, but it
would have taken too long. He’d considered taking a
simpler room for himself, but his crew had insisted. He
was the captain now and these were his quarters. So
he put up with the luxury and did his best to concen-
trate on other things.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much else to concen-
trate on. Since taking the ships Raynor had become
Public Enemy Number One. Every soldier in the
Dominion was hunting for him, and his face was plas-
tered on every colony. Not that it bothered him—he
knew better than most what Mengsk was capable of
and what he did to those loyal to him, and had no

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 13

desire to go back. Being the law didn’t change any-
thing. You stood by your people or you weren’t worth
standing by. Raynor honestly believed that, and
Mengsk’s betrayal had made his own desertion easy.
The question, however, was what to do after he
deserted. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time,
since he’d planned to go off alone. But having others
with him changed that. They looked up to him,
depended upon him, sat patiently waiting for his
orders. And he didn’t have any. Oh, they’d stolen the
ships, of course. And they’d hit a few outposts, singed
a few patrols. But he didn’t know what to do next. He
didn’t know where he was going. It had been six
weeks and he still had no idea.
All those years as a marshal, Raynor had told him-
self he was independent, self-sufficient. It had been
true, at least in part. He’d survived on his own
resources, acted on his own judgment. His mandate
had been loose enough and broad enough to give him
a lot of freedom. But there had been a mandate: to
protect the people of Mar Sara. After he’d joined
Mengsk he’d gotten a new mandate: to protect the
people from the Confederacy and from the aliens.
What was his mandate now?
He’d quit out of rage, he knew. Rage at Mengsk for
what he’d done. For whom he’d betrayed.
Rage over Kerrigan.
He could still taste the fury he’d unleashed at Mengsk
for deserting her like that, leaving her to the zerg and
whatever else was crawling across the planet’s remains.

14 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Hell, he could still feel the tender new skin across his
knuckles where he’d punched Duke after the iron-
haired general had ordered him to stand down. He was
still angry.
But being angry wasn’t getting him anywhere. And
after that initial fury had faded he found he didn’t
know how to lead the way his people expected. They’d
become rebels, but what were they really rebelling
against? And how?
Mike was a more effective rebel, in his own way,
sending out these rogue broadcasts from hidden sta-
tions. Reporting on what Mengsk was really doing to
consolidate his power and telling people what had
really happened with the zerg and the protoss and the
Psi-Emitters.
The zerg and the protoss. Hell, half the time Raynor
thought he sounded raving mad talking about this stuff,
or even thinking it. Alien races battling over humanity,
acting out some ancient feud, with the colonies caught
in the middle? It was insane.
But it was too real. He’d seen too much of it to ever
think otherwise.
Still, perhaps he was cracking up. That would at
least explain the dreams.
They’d been ambushing him since Tarsonis, lying
in wait for the instant he closed his eyes each night.
As soon as he laid his head down and drifted off, the
dreams began.
Nightmares, really. Each was the same. He was
trapped, confined, bound somehow without rope or

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 15

shackles, unable to move or resist. Shadowy figures
hovered over him, pressing in on every side as he lay
helpless, wanting to scream but unable to open his
mouth. That was the dream.
Until last night.
This time it had been different. He had not been
bound at all, and had retained control of his limbs,
though they felt heavy and slow and oddly numb. He
was standing on a pale ground, soft grayish-white like
old teeth or bleached bone, and every movement
kicked up small puffs of it, which drifted across his feet
and brushed against his ankles. The material was oddly
dry, neither cool nor warm, and disintegrated upon
contact.
Ash. He was standing on a field of ash. It stretched
as far as the eye could see, coating every surface, even
the rocky black hills that rose off to the sides. Clouds of
it swirled through the air, obscuring his view of two
small purplish moons and a ringed red planet that hung
overhead. He could taste the ash when he breathed, feel
it coating his lungs. The entire planet was ash, as if it
had been razed once and never recovered.
But he had more pressing matters than studying the
landscape. As he stood, getting his bearings and trying
to shake his limbs back to some semblance of activity,
dark figures appeared in the distance, closing the gap
between them and him with frightening speed. Soon
they towered over him, their sulfurous breath hot on
his skin. He tried to keep them all in sight and not look
at them at the same time, knowing somehow that star-

16 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


ing at them would drive him beyond the brink. The
quick glimpses he caught in his peripheral vision
reminded him of zerg—tough skin and stretched
frames exuding tentacles and spikes and spines. But
these were larger than any zerg he had faced, darker,
distorted. They terrified him, and he could feel his
heart racing in his chest, his breath coming short, his
skin breaking out in a clammy sweat. A small whimper
escaped him and he clenched his jaw, trying to prevent
similar sounds from emerging.
Though they were all but brushing against him he
found he could somehow slip past these shadowy fig-
ures, and in a moment he was shambling across the
ash-buried ground, trying not to stumble as he forced
his legs to their maximum speed. The hills stood
beyond, the distance to them uncertain because the
ash hid telltale shadows, but he knew if he could only
reach them he could find cover. Plumes of fire and
smoke rose behind them—volcanoes, judging from the
ash—and he knew the soot and smoke would help
hide him from view. If he could make it over the ridge
he could vanish into the haze. He could escape. He
urged his limbs to cooperate, to move, and ran as fast
as he could.
It was not enough.
The figures were closing in, spines wriggling in antic-
ipation, tentacles lashing the air, and he could hear
them hissing their excitement. He could hear their flesh
dragging across the ground, sending clouds of ash
everywhere. He could even hear the drool dripping

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 17

from their lips. Soon they would have him surrounded,
cut off. Their long limbs would wrap around him, bind-
ing him, and the chase would be over. Then the real
torment would begin.
Desperate, he wheeled about, searching for a way
out, a weapon, anything. He needed help!
But nothing was there. Only the ash and the mon-
sters and him.
One of the creatures oozed forward, its hard, slick
flesh protruding long spines like a crop of hair, and
reached for him with spike-studded limbs. His flesh
burned where it touched him, acid shooting through
his veins as the spikes broke his skin, and he thrashed
uncontrollably. His head jerked about, red hair tan-
gling and temporarily obscuring the sight of what was
waiting. Then the tentacles tightened and, as his lungs
were squeezed dry, a single cry escaped him.
“Jimmy!”
That was when he woke up.
“It can’t be,” Raynor mused as shucked his pants
and stepped into the shower. A twist of the silver-
inlaid handle activated the needle-sharp spray—real
water; nothing but the best for Mengsk!—and the
shock of ice-cold water removed any last vestige of
sleep along with the dirt and sweat and dried blood. He
stubbornly shut the shower off after the regulation
thirty seconds and waited patiently for the hot air that
followed, leaving him dry and awake and slightly
flushed as he exited and grabbed a cleaner shirt and
pants from his closet. All the time his mind was still

18A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


spinning, trying to make sense of the dream, trying to
ignore the clues it had received.
“It just can’t be,” he told himself again, tugging on
his boots and then sliding into his jacket. The gun belt
went around his waist automatically, his blaster settled
comfortably at his thigh, and he was heading for the
door, snatching up his hat on the way out.
The Hyperion was a big ship, a full-sized battle
cruiser, and it had ample space for weapons, supplies,
and small scoutships. But it had also been Mengsk’s
flagship, and the former terrorist wasn’t about to creep
down narrow gangways or shuffle up cramped steel-
railed ladders. Raynor shook his head yet again as he
walked along a broad, carpeted hallway, soft lighting
rising from the tasteful wall sconces spaced evenly
down both sides. Between the doors, paintings hung.
It all resembled a stately mansion rather than a space-
ship, let alone a warship. He wondered if Mengsk was
more upset about losing the ship’s weapons or about
losing the scotch, cigars, and other treats he’d kept
onboard.
Skipping up the wide curving staircase, Raynor
finally reached the command level and, tugging open
the heavy door, entered the control room. His control
room. It was as ostentatious as ever, a grand ballroom
festooned with monitors and consoles, a dining room
filled with operating stations, a helm fashioned from
wood and tile and blanketed in velvet and silk.
“Sir!” Matt Horner saluted from the command chair
and made to vacate it, but Raynor waved him back

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 19

down. Horner was a good man, if a bit young and ide-
alistic—he had actually joined the Sons of Korhal to
make a difference and still believed in such things as
patriotism and justice. He’d learn someday, though
Raynor regretted the fact. For now he was a good
second-in-command and an excellent ship captain.
“All’s quiet, sir,” Horner told him, and Raynor nod-
ded, leaning against a console midway between the
command chair and the navigation controls.
“What are your orders, sir?” Horner asked, and
Raynor shrugged.
“As you were, son.” He saw the disappointment
etched across the younger man’s face and felt the guilt
wash over him again. He’d seen that same look many
times, on Horner and others, in the past few weeks.
They had all been so eager to follow him, so convinced
he would lead them to do the right thing. And instead
he’d led them here. Here where they sat waiting, doing
nothing but fending off the occasional stray ship, bid-
ing their time until Mengsk learned their whereabouts
and sent the fleet after them.
Why weren’t they doing more? Raynor knew they
wondered that. Every morning Horner asked for
orders, and every morning he had none to give. He
had lost his sense of direction. Breaking from Mengsk
had been the right thing, Raynor was sure of that, but
he wasn’t ready to attack the Dominion outright and
he just couldn’t seem to find a good middle ground
between inactivity and all-out war.
As Horner sank back into the command chair,

20A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Raynor let his mind drift again, and once again it
returned to the dreams. Particularly to this most recent
one. It refused to leave him. It had been different from
all the others, and not just because of the details and
his freedom of movement. It had been more intense—
the edges sharper, the colors brighter, the air charged
with something that had crackled about him, raising
his hair on end. Excitement? Fear?
Anticipation. Something was going to happen. And
soon.
“I need a planet, Matt,” he said finally, causing the
younger man to look up.
“Sir?” For an instant Matt’s face was blank, his eyes
puzzled, and then he lit up. “Yessir! A new base of
operations! A launching point for the revolution! A
rallying ground for the—”
“No, just a planet,” Raynor interrupted, knowing he
had to shut his subordinate down quickly. “One that
matches a particular description.”
Stepping up beside Horner, he began inputting
details into the navigational system. “Warm,” he mut-
tered to himself as he typed, “though not unbearably
so. Air a bit sticky and filled with ash. One visible sun.
Two small moons. Red ringed planet nearby. Covered
in ash, pale gray, at least an inch thick. Some hills and
small mountains, black rock rather than dirt. Fire and
smoke all around. Probably volcanoes everywhere. No
vegetation or animal life.” The terms came back to him
easily, a holdover from his days as a marshal on Chau
Sara describing plots for potential colony use. He fin-

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S21

ished typing in the description and stepped back as he
let the computer search its files for a match, staring off
into space through the wide portholes that lined the
front of the room.
It couldn’t be her.
She was dead. He knew it. He hadn’t seen her die,
admittedly, and if anyone could survive such odds it
would be her, but still . . .
Tarsonis has been overrun. The zerg had taken the
entire planet. It had been six weeks.
And if she had survived she would have contacted
him. Hell, she would have shown up in his room at
night, without anyone seeing her slip onboard.
Then again, maybe she had. Just not in the way he
would have expected.
She was a telepath, after all.
Sarah Kerrigan. She of the flaming red hair, the
emerald-green eyes, and the wide smile. The girl with
the knowing look and the deadly grace. Former Ghost,
former assassin, formerly Mengsk’s most trusted lieu-
tenant.
Kerrigan. His friend. Almost his lover. Certainly the
attraction had been there on both sides—they had
both felt it. And had almost acted on it more than
once. But the timing had never been right. That was
the way with wars—they got in the way of other
things.
She had called him a pig the first time they’d met.
She’d been right—he couldn’t help the thoughts that
rose when he first saw her, glorious and dangerous and

22A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


crowned with that mane of firelit hair. But they’d got-
ten past that. They’d become friends. She and Mike
were the only two he’d really trusted out of Mengsk’s
inner circle, and the three of them had been tighter
than brothers, tighter than spouses, experiencing the
close bond that only forms when death is the price of
failure.
Kerrigan. Mengsk had left her to die on Tarsonis,
amid the zerg Swarm. And she was calling to him now.
In his dreams. It had to be her. No one else called him
Jimmy, not since he’d learned to talk.
“Sir?” Horner was gesturing toward the console,
and Raynor set aside his reverie to study the readout.
NO MATCHES FOUND IN SYSTEM
“Damn.” He’d hoped Mengsk’s maps would have it.
At least then he’d know that the place itself was real, if
not the dreams about it.
“Sir?” Horner was watching him.
“Yeah?”
“Sir, we could still find it.”
Raynor thought about it for a second, then shook
his head. “Nah. Probably doesn’t exist.”
This time Horner frowned. “Sir, may I?” He gestured
at the console, and Raynor nodded. Swiveling it over
to the command chair, Horner began typing, his fin-
gers flying across the keys. “Size of moons?” he asked
without looking up, and Raynor searched his memory
of the dream.
“Small,” he replied. “Half those of Mar Sara. Pur-
plish in color.”

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 23

The younger man nodded and typed in something
else. “Size of ringed planet?”
Raynor shut his eyes, trying to recall the brief
glimpse he’d had of it. “Say the size of Tarsonis,” he
said finally.
“Gravity?”
He recalled the feel of his feet on the ground, of the
ash swirling about him. “Normal. Full Terran gravity.”
Then he remembered something else. “High sulfur
content in the air. High oxygen count, too.” He had felt
almost light-headed when breathing, despite the ash’s
almost choking him.
“Yes, sir.” Horner finished typing and entered the
search. A moment later three locations sprang up on
the map that dominated the central screen. “Three
potential matches, sir.”
Raynor just stared at him. “How’d you do that?”
This time Horner grinned, flushing slightly. “Used
an algorithm, sir. Input the details for the system and
cross-referenced them with star maps.” He indicated
the three glowing dots on the screen. “None of them
explored, sir. That’s why they weren’t in the nav sys-
tem. But based on their suns and planets and moons,
these three could fit.”
“Hunh.” Raynor shook his head, impressed. Horner
was so eager to please, so quick to obey any order, he
sometimes forgot the kid had been helming a starship
before joining up.
He studied the three locations on the map. The first
one was the closest by far. But as he stared at it he

24A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


felt . . . wrong, somehow. Not bad, not good, just cold,
disconnected.
He glanced at the second dot. Same feeling.
Then he looked at the third dot—and almost fell
over from the wave of fear and tension that hit him.
He broke out in a sweat just staring at it, and some-
how it seemed to flare brighter, though he knew it
hadn’t.
“That’s it,” he whispered, gesturing toward the third
dot, and Horner realigned the screen, centering on the
dot and focusing in upon it.
“Got it, sir,” he said as a string of numbers appeared
beside it. “Set course?”
For a moment Raynor hesitated. That was the world
he’d seen in his dreams. He was sure of it. That was
where Kerrigan was.
His first impulse was to grab a scoutship and head
out alone, at maximum burn. But that wouldn’t have
been smart. Tarsonis had fallen to the Swarm, and Ker-
rigan with it. She couldn’t have escaped them. That
meant they had her. It would explain the nightmarish
figures in his dreams—zerg, but more so, somehow
more powerful and more terrifying than the creatures
he had already faced.
Subtlety wasn’t the issue here. Speed was. Speed
and firepower.
Something else, as well. For the first time since
they’d hit the shipyards, Raynor felt energized, alive.
He had a purpose again. It might not last, but for now
it was enough. And his people needed that same pur-

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S25

pose. They wanted him to lead them? All right, now he
had someplace to lead toward.
Stepping over to the command chair, he claimed the
mike and switched it to open broadcast through his
ships. “Attention, all units,” he announced. “This is
James Raynor. We are about to mount a rescue mission.
I believe some of our people from Tarsonis were taken
captive by the zerg. I have coordinates for a planet
where I think they were taken.” His hands tightened on
the mike as he remembered the feel of those creatures
closing in. “We’re not gonna stand by and let those
filthy critters run off with our friends. We’re going out
there, guns blazing, and we’re gonna take them back.
And we’ll blast every zerg that gets in our way.” He took
a deep breath, then continued. “We depart in two
hours. Anyone who doesn’t want to go can leave now.
I won’t hold you to anything. This could be a fool’s
errand we’re off on. It could be our deaths. So don’t go
if you’re not ready for that.” He glanced at the screen
again, and at the dot that seemed to wink at him. “If any
of our people are there, I’ll tear the place apart to find
them. And we won’t leave without them.”
He switched the mike back off and tossed it to
Horner. “Matt, set a course, maximum burn.”
“Yes, sir!” Horner began typing in commands enthu-
siastically, but paused to look back up at him. “Sir, do
you really think so? That some of our people are there?
Being held by the zerg?”
“I hope so, Matt,” Raynor answered, turning away
to study the dot again. “I certainly hope so.”

26 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G



Two hours later the Hyperion prepared to jump, the
rest of Raynor’s rebellious little fleet trailing behind it.
Ten people had left before the ships could depart, out
of over four hundred. The rest had signed on for the
mission and whatever came out of it. Most had been
excited, jittery, and he knew only part of that was the
thought of rescuing fallen comrades. They were all
just pleased he had taken decisive action. He was
leading, and they were ready to follow. He just hoped
they weren’t following to their dooms.
Sitting in the captain’s chair on the Hyperion, Raynor
watched as space folded around them, letting the mas-
sive ship glide from normal reality and accelerate rap-
idly toward the ash-covered world of his dreams.
We’re coming, Kerrigan, he called in his head. I hope
you’re still there, because we’re coming to get you.

CHAPTER 2




TWO WEEKS LATER RAYNOR STOOD ON THE BRIDGE
and looked down upon the world he had dubbed
Char. Even before Horner jockeyed the Hyperion into
orbit he could see the smoke rising from several spots
around the dull gray world, and the flares of orange and
gold that often preceded them. Judging from their pre-
liminary scans the entire planet was caught in the throes
of constant volcanic activity and in places it looked as if
the ground itself might be unstable, still fluid from the
repeated superheating beneath it. They had maneuvered
past a larger red planet on their way in, dodging its wide
golden rings, and spied two small moons as they braked
just beyond Char’s atmosphere.
This was definitely it. The world in his dreams. The
dreams that still haunted him every night, and some-
times during the day.
Yes, they had gotten worse. He was having them
more frequently now. Warp travel was exhausting—
something about the body not being designed for mov-

28A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


ing at that speed and the mind not being able to
process the information around it. Because of that he,
like the rest of his people, had found himself dozing off
several times a day, anywhere for a few minutes to an
hour. And each time the dreams had returned when
he closed his eyes.
Nor had they remained the same. The dream of
those horrific zerglike monstrosities looming over him
had continued, but with each dream he had less space
to run, less room to move, less chance of escape. Less
and less hope, as the monsters loomed larger and
larger until they blotted out the sky.
His body had been altered as well within the
dreams. It had stretched and contorted, shifting out of
control, twisting and turning as if given a mind of its
own and an urgent need to escape his consciousness.
At first he had thought it was merely bad luck of the
kind that filled bad dreams—tripping over a loose rock,
twisting an ankle on uneven ground, fingers slipping
from the haft of a gun. But slowly Raynor had realized
that these were not accidents. In the dreams his own
body was turning against him. It was siding with the
monsters, working toward his capture and destruction.
His cries had become weaker as well. The calls of
“Jimmy!” had faded to whispers, then to gurgles, then
to mere gasps, as his throat tightened against him. Even
his voice was no longer his. During the last dream
Raynor had stood stock-still as the monsters descended,
waiting until they had surrounded him. Then he had
dropped to his knees and flung his arms wide, head

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S29

back, waiting to receive them. He had woken from that
dream with a laugh bubbling up his throat, a laugh of
joy and victory and exaltation. And something else. A
phrase that had wafted through him just as the dream
ended, something that reverberated through every cell
of his body and set his hairs on end.
“Behold the power of that which is yet unborn!”
It chilled him to the bone, those words. Because even
though he could not identify the speaker, he knew they
were talking about him. About her. About Kerrigan.
What were they doing to her? Hold on, Raynor had
thought desperately that morning as he’d staggered into
his bathroom and ducked his head under the faucet to
chase the last vestiges away. Hold on, Kerrigan. We’re
almost there.
And now he was. Here he stood on the Hyperion’s
bridge, looking down upon Char itself. Knowing that
Kerrigan was down there somewhere.
If the dreams were right, the zerg were there too.
Raynor didn’t see any sign of them but he knew that
meant nothing. The deadly Swarm was capable of hid-
ing all traces from even the strongest scans. Hell, he’d
walked, slept, and rode right above them on Mar Sara,
maybe for months, without ever realizing it. Some-
times he still wondered what would have happened if
he hadn’t put down near that first outpost, or run into
Mike and that bodyguard of his. Would he have been
another one of the casualties, his corpse obliterated by
the protoss like everything else on the planet? Or had
he been destined to get off that world before it died, to

30 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


leave his home behind and take to the stars on some
larger mission?
“Sir!” Horner’s shout brought Raynor back to the
present, and he jerked around. But something caught
his eye as he turned, and he stopped, focusing on the
speck floating off to one side of Char. The speck that
quickly resolved itself into the shape of a Terran
Dominion warship.
“I see it,” Raynor assured his second, shifting to get
a better look. “Can we identify it from here?”
“Yes, sir.” Horner’s fingers danced on the keyboard
again, and after a second he had an answer. The audible
gulp beforehand gave it away. “It’s the Norad III, sir.”
The Norad III. General Duke’s ship. “Great.” Keeping
his eyes on the ship, Raynor backed across the room
until he was next to the control chair. “Any signs of
support?”
“Two carrier ships and a science vessel, plus one
cargo hauler,” Horner confirmed. Now Raynor could
see the smaller smudges beside the first one.
“No other battleships?”
Horner frowned at his screen and tapped it again, as
if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “No sir,” he
finally replied. “The Norad III’s by herself.”
“Hunh.” Raynor rubbed his chin, thinking. The
Norad III wasn’t really by itself, of course—it had four
other ships with it, making up a small fleet. But Matt
was thinking in terms of a space battle, where the only
important ships were the battleships and their fighter
complements. If this were war Duke would be here

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 31

with a half-dozen warships behind him. That meant
this wasn’t an all-out attack, on either Char or his little
rebellion. Not that Duke could have predicted his
arrival here—even if Mengsk had a spy onboard, as
Raynor knew was possible, he hadn’t given anyone
but Horner the coordinates for this place. And he knew
Horner was too idealistic to betray him. So if Duke
wasn’t here for him, why was he here? And without
backup? Though then again, the Norad III was a heavy
warship, one of the Behemoth class, and could carry
more than a thousand soldiers and two dozen star
fighters, so he wasn’t exactly defenseless. Plus he had
those carriers, which meant he had ample ground
forces on hand. But you only used ground forces when
you didn’t want to damage the area. What was there
on Char to damage?
“Only one way to find out,” Raynor decided, and
nodded to Horner. Taking the hint, the younger man
stood and stepped aside, letting Raynor take the chair.
“Matt,” he said as he sank into the plush seat, “give the
Norad III a holler. No reason not to be neighborly.”
The younger man stared at him as if he’d gone mad,
but did as instructed. A moment later the front screen’s
expanded view of Char vanished, replaced by a famil-
iar face with a square jaw, a heavy brow, and a head of
neatly chopped steel-gray hair.
“Raynor!” General Edmund Duke spat at him
before the connection had even stabilized. “You’ve got
a lot of nerve showing your face, you mangy dog! I
oughta put you down right now!”

32A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“Give it your best shot,” Raynor replied, feeling his
temper rise despite himself. Damn, but Duke always
managed to rile him! He steepled his fingers, a gesture
he’d seen Mengsk use more than once, to keep from
clenching his hands into fists. “You don’t have the
firepower to take us,” he pointed out brusquely. “The
Norad III might take out the Hyperion but we’ve got
ten more ships and you’ve got only four, and none of
them any good in a firefight.” He saw the muscle
twitch in Duke’s jaw and knew he was only saying
what the older man already knew. They stared at each
other for a minute without speaking.
Duke broke the silence. “What do you want here,
anyway? Looking to set up your own little kingdom
now that you’ve cut loose?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Raynor replied,
leaning forward. “Why so far from home? Doesn’t the
Dominion need you anymore?”
“I’m here on a special mission,” the general replied
pompously. “The Emperor asked me to handle it per-
sonally.”
“Really? Must be important,” Raynor said. He tried
to keep his face blank, failed, and wound up grinning.
“You bringing him a drink? Maybe shining his shoes?”
He saw the older man’s eyes narrow and knew he’d
scored a hit. Duke was such an easy target.
His adversary didn’t break down, though. Duke
was made of stronger stuff than that, and despite his
other faults he wasn’t stupid. “Wouldn’t you like
to know?” he replied with a laugh. “Oh, I bet you

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 33

would. In fact, I bet you’re here for the same reason.”
Had Duke had the dreams too? No, that was impos-
sible—Kerrigan had despised him as much as Raynor
did. But why else would he be here? Maybe Mengsk
had dreamed, though. Despite the betrayal that had
led to Kerrigan’s death the two had been close, and
Kerrigan had been one of the former terrorist’s most
trusted lieutenants. Had she reached out to him,
prompting him to send Duke on his behalf? Raynor
didn’t let any of that show on his face or in his voice
when he replied, “Oh? What reason?”
“Don’t play coy with me, boy,” Duke snapped. “I
know what’s going on here. A lot more than you do, in
fact.” He looked smug, far too smug for a man who was
only bluffing.
“You don’t know anything,” Raynor countered,
though he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t used to bantering
like this, and wished Mike were here. Liberty had a
definite gift for talk and probably would have had
Duke spouting secrets about his mother by now.
“Oh, don’t I?” This time it was Duke who grinned.
“How’re you sleeping, boy?”
He knows! Raynor sat back in shock. Why else
would he have asked that? Mengsk must have had the
same dreams!
“Yeah, gotcha,” Duke chortled, and Raynor realized
he’d let his surprise show. “Like I said, I know what’s
going on here. Just stay out of my way, boy. If you
want to live, that is.”
“Keep talking, old man,” Raynor snapped back.

34A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“Keep talking and stay in that shiny ship of yours and
don’t cross me. I’m not in the mood.”
The older man’s face had paled and his eyes were
almost hidden under his brow now. His voice was little
more than a rasp as he growled, “Listen, punk! I sure
as hell don’t take orders from no jumped-up beat cop
who thinks he’s a rebel!” The muscle in his jaw was
practically dancing now, and Raynor thought he could
hear the scrape of teeth grinding together. “Only rea-
son I’m not taking you apart right now is I’ve got other
fish to fry! But you give me any more of your lip and
I’ll storm over there and drown you like the dog you
are! I’ll personally tear a hole in that fancy ship of
yours and plant my boot so far up your—”
Raynor cut the signal mid-rant and sat back in his
chair. Something wasn’t right here; he could feel it.
Perhaps because of the time he’d spent with Kerrigan,
he had learned to trust his instincts.
Something about that whole exchange had been
off. Oh, Duke hated him, he knew that; the feeling was
certainly mutual. And the older man’s antagonism
hadn’t been faked, especially that last outburst. Nor
had the taunts been a lie—Duke did think he knew
something Raynor didn’t. He was almost certain
Mengsk had also had dreams from Kerrigan and had
sent Duke to check them out. So what was wrong?
It was Duke’s hesitance to fight, he finally decided.
The man was practically a rabid dog, and Mengsk had
been forced to leash him several times during the war
to keep the general from overstepping his bounds and

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S35

destroying Mengsk’s plans with a mindless charge.
Even if the Norad III was alone, Duke still would have
come after them, at least enough to fire a warning shot
or two. Plus he could always send his soldiers and
attempt to board—if those carriers were even half-full
he’d have enough men to swamp them easily. Why
hadn’t he?
“Matt,” Raynor called, and Horner was standing at
his elbow an instant later. He almost laughed but knew
it would offend the younger man. “You sure the Norad
III’s the only warship nearby?”
“Absolutely, sir.” Horner’s head bobbed up and
down. “I did a full sweep, then another two to be sure.
She’s got nobody.”
“Hm.” That could just mean Mengsk couldn’t spare
any other ships. And the Norad III was a capable vessel.
“How’s she look?”
Horner understood him. It was one of the reasons
he liked his second—the young man was able to make
sense of his verbal shorthand. “Weapons ports open,
sir, and shields up. She’s definitely in combat mode.”
He frowned. “I did get two strange things, sir.” Raynor
waited for him to continue. “Those carriers are reading
as more than half-empty. And I got a signal off Char’s
surface. From the Norad III.”
“A second reading?” Raynor glanced at the screen,
which had reverted to its view of Char. Norad III hov-
ered off to one side, still little more than a smudgy out-
line. But she was clearly there.
Ah, but perhaps not all of her.

36 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“Get me Duke again,” he ordered, and Horner
hopped to obey. A moment later Duke’s face was once
again on the screen. Raynor was amused to see that
the older man’s jaw was still just as clenched.
“You went down there, didn’t you?” he asked imme-
diately, not giving the general a chance to start shouting
at him again. “You’ve already been to the surface. Your
carriers are mostly empty. Plus we’re getting a reading
from your ship down there—one of your shuttles. And
it’s still there.” He watched Duke’s face as he spoke, and
was pleased to see the other man’s eyes narrow farther
and his jaw become so rigid it was a wonder he could
breathe. “You lost most of your men and at least one
shuttle checking the place out.” He leaned forward
again. “What happened, Duke? Natives too much for
you? Already get your butt handed to you?”
“Shut your mouth, punk!” Duke finally shouted,
losing his temper completely. “You try it, you’re so
tough! Those zerg’ll eat you alive!”
“So you did encounter them,” Raynor mused aloud.
“Too hot for you, eh?” He laughed. “Mengsk won’t be
happy. Sends you to do a simple task and you botch it
royally.”
“Shut up!” Duke roared. “I didn’t fail! She’s not
here! Or if she is she’s got the entire Swarm here with
her! Nobody could get her out of that! Nobody!” Then
his mouth clamped shut as he realized what he’d said.
“I can get her,” Raynor assured him, and cut the
connection again. He sank back into his seat, excited
and chilled at the same time.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 37

Kerrigan was here! Duke’s ranting had confirmed it.
Or at least Mengsk had been convinced she was, which
meant Raynor wasn’t crazy. Even if this was all some
zerg trick, it was better than him just imagining things.
That was the excitement. Kerrigan had sent the
dreams, and she had meant for him to come here. This
was the place. And, despite everything, she might still
be alive.
Then came the chills. Because this was the world
from his dreams, the world of zerg more monstrous
than any he’d seen before. And the zerg were defi-
nitely here. They’d already defeated Duke and driven
him back off the surface. And one thing he had to
admit was that Duke was a good man in a fight. The
Norad III was a top-of-the-line battle cruiser, fully
loaded. And he’d brought two carriers, each filled with
ground troops, most likely the best Mengsk had to
offer. But they hadn’t been able to hold the surface, or
even their drop point. Which meant the zerg were
here in force.
He had to go down there. He knew that. He’d come
this far; he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t go. Nei-
ther would Kerrigan, for that matter. But what about
his people? Could a bunch of ragtag rebels stand where
Duke’s army had fled?
Once again he was assailed with doubts. Did he
have the right to risk all of them for one woman who
might not even still be alive? Could he ask them to risk
their own lives for hers? And what kind of leader
would ask them to make that choice?

38A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“Sir?” Horner stood nearby. “What are your orders?”
Raynor rubbed his palms into his eyes, hoping to
drive some sense into his brain. He started to tell his
second that he didn’t know, that he was having ques-
tions, but quashed that impulse quickly. That wasn’t
what Horner wanted to hear. It wasn’t what anyone
wanted to hear. One thing he had learned from
Mengsk was the importance of appearances. Even if
you were tearing yourself up inside, you couldn’t let it
show. Not the leader, anyway. You had to present a
calm face, a reassuring voice, and a clear purpose. Oth-
erwise your people lost faith in you. And that was
worse than making a mistake, even worse then costing
some lives, because once they lost faith they’d be just
as lost as you were.
“We’re going down,” he announced, sitting and tap-
ping in the commands for open broadcast. “Make sure
the Norad III doesn’t pick this up,” he instructed, and
as Horner hopped back to his station Raynor grabbed
the mike. “Attention, all ships,” he announced. “This is
Raynor. We are going down. I repeat, we are going
down. All ships prepare landing parties, heavy gear,
full combat mode. Expect opposition. It’s gonna get
hot down there.”
He had already clicked off the mike and stood up
when Horner stiffened at his console. “Sir!”
“What’s wrong, Matt?” He was standing at the
younger man’s side in an instant.
“The Norad III’s opened her bay, sir!”
“What?” Raynor leaned in closer, studying the read-

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 39

out on Horner’s screen. Had he finally pushed Duke far
enough to force an attack?
“One shuttle and three star fighters,” Horner
announced a second later, deciphering the scrolling
information. “Heading toward the surface, sir.”
Raynor leaned back, nodding. He could hear the
relief in Horner’s voice. It wasn’t an attack after all. At
least, not one on them. He had pushed Duke into
action, but not into coming after them—Duke was
going planetside again to search for Kerrigan once
more. Or to rescue survivors form his earlier attempt.
Well, that was fine. Maybe they’d distract the zerg long
enough for his people to get in and out safely.
“Matt, you’ve got the ship,” he told the younger
man, clapping him on the back. “Make sure she’s still
here when I get back, eh?” The younger man nodded,
his face lit with pride, and Raynor knew Horner would
give his life to keep the Hyperion safe. Hopefully it
wouldn’t come to that.
Well, we’re here, he told himself as he exited the
bridge and headed for the shuttle bay. Time to get down
there and take a look.

CHAPTER 3




CHAR WAS EVERY BIT AS UGLY IN REALITY AS IT
had been in his dreams, Raynor decided as he hopped
down from the shuttle. His boots crunched into the
surface, sending small puffs of ash swirling up around
his ankles, and he was glad for the rebreather cover-
ing his nose and mouth and the attached goggles cov-
ering his eyes. He’d considered wearing his combat
armor but had decided against it—though the suit
would have given him strength and protected him
against minor damage, it wasn’t good in tight spaces and
had only a limited power supply. Besides, he’d seen zerg
cut right through armor. He was better off relying on
agility, especially since he didn’t have his bike handy.
Squinting against the setting sun, he studied the
landscape. Bleak; that was the word for it. Ash and rock
as far as the eye could see, topped by smoke and more
ash and some flame. No plants, no animals, nothing
moving but him and his people, who were all off the
shuttles now and clustering around them, forming dis-

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 41

crete units within the whole. That was exactly what
he’d instructed before they touched down. He didn’t
want an army down here—too easy to attract attention.
Better to split into small groups and scout around, figure
out what was where. Hopefully one of them would spot
the Swarm and find Kerrigan without getting noticed.
“All right,” he called over the command channel.
“All crews, stay frosty, and keep your eyes peeled for
our target. Remember, not only are we up against the
zerg here, but our old pal General Duke may be creepin’
around too.” He bit back a sigh, the harsh landscape
already depressing him. “Let’s hope this trip wasn’t a big
mistake,” he muttered, then hoped they hadn’t heard
that part.
Shaking it off, Raynor shouldered his rifle and
motioned his crew closer. If someone had tailored a
planet to be inhospitable they couldn’t have done a
better job. He’d felt the futility of this place through
Kerrigan’s dreams, and it was worse now. But he had
two things going for him that he hadn’t had in those
nightmares.
First off, he was awake and alert and armed.
Second, he wasn’t alone.
He planned to use both advantages to their fullest.
“I want a sweep of the area to our northwest,” he
told Lisa Mannix, the sergeant he’d picked as his second
here. “Quiet and careful. We don’t know where they’re
hiding.”
“Yessir.” She snapped off a quick salute and began
organizing the others into pairs, then assigning them

42 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


sections on the grid. Calm and efficient, Mannix never
seemed to get riled, which Raynor appreciated. He’d
worked with her a few times under Mengsk and had
been pleased when she’d joined his revolt, saying she
couldn’t stomach what had happened on Tarsonis. On
the Hyperion she was easygoing, friendly, almost play-
ful, but down here she was all business, and only min-
utes after they’d landed she had everyone moving out,
canvassing the ground for any trace of their foes—or
the woman they’d come to rescue.
“Sir, you need to see this!” It was one of his troopers,
Chuck Ayers, a short older man who’d been a career sol-
dier under Duke and had followed him to Mengsk and
then walked away. He was one of Raynor’s top choices
for a mole, and he kept the man close to keep an eye on
him, but so far Ayers had proven to be nothing but an
asset. Now he was standing with his partner, Ari Patel,
on either side of a small crevice, guns out and at the
ready. Raynor stepped up beside them, Mannix right
behind him.
“Check it out.” Ayers gestured toward the crevice,
and Raynor studied it. It was small, barely three feet
across, and perfectly circular, with a raised lip around a
deep hole. It wasn’t so much a crevice as a sinkhole or
a crater—or an entrance. The ash was thinner here,
exposing the black rock beneath, and the inside was
rough and lumpy. But the edge was razor-sharp.
“Small volcano,” Mannix suggested, crouching to
get a better look. “Planet’s probably riddled with them.
We’ll have to watch our step.”

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 43

“Hm.” Raynor squatted as well, still staring at the
hole. “Could lead to caverns, though,” he suggested.
They all knew what that meant. The zerg had shown a
clear affinity for the underground. If this hole did lead
to tunnels beneath the surface, it probably also led
straight to the Swarm.
Mannix eyed the hole. “Too small for us,” she decided
finally. “Too easy to get stuck.” She frowned. “Too small
for most zerg, too.”
Raynor nodded and stood up, absently brushing ash
from his pants. She was right—only zerglings could fit
through that. The hole might lead to the Swarm but it
wasn’t going to provide Raynor and his crew with access,
or be a way for the zerg to sneak up behind them.
“Drop a sensor,” he told Ayers, moving away from the
crater. “We’ll keep an ear on it. Good catch, though.” The
soldier saluted, already reaching for the pack at his side.
Each of the troopers had at least one sensor, and they
were all keyed into everyone’s else’s comm unit. If the
zerg crept past this crater they’d all hear it.
They kept moving, Mannix making sure the pairs
were spread out across the grid. Raynor stayed beside
her, rifle at the ready, but most of his attention was
taken up listening to the other squad reports.
“Got a hole!” one announced. “Too small,” they
called back a moment later. “Dropping a sensor.” Others
had the same results. This area had seen strong volcanic
activity not too long ago and the ground was still
pocked with the resulting craters. That pattern of dis-
covery and dismissal lasted for a full ten minutes.

44 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“I’ve got zerg!” someone shouted. Raynor immedi-
ately pinpointed the individual. It was Lance Messner,
from the Nemesis. Raynor was running toward Mess-
ner’s location even as he shouted for Mannix and the
others to follow.
The Nemesis shuttle had been next to theirs, and
their teams were not far apart. It took Raynor only ten
more minutes, running full out, to reach Messner. He
was afraid he’d be too late, but the young trooper was
still standing when he skidded to a halt.
“Where?” Raynor demanded, searching all around,
his rifle barrel following his eyes. Messner pointed
down, and Raynor realized there was a crevice
between them. This was not a crater like the others but
a narrow split in the ground, and he could see deep
into the earth below it. And, somewhere down there,
something was moving.
“You’re sure it’s zerg?” he demanded, and Messner
nodded fervently.
“Sir, yes sir!” the trooper replied. “I heard them, sir!
That chittering sound they make, like giant beetles in a
feeding frenzy!” It was an apt description, and not one
likely to be confused with anything else on this world.
Mannix was beside him by now, with the rest of
their squad falling in behind her. Raynor dropped to
his haunches to peer into the crevice. Yes, he could
hear what Messner had described. It was definitely
zerg. Not close, and perhaps not even aware of them,
but definitely there.
“All right, we’ve got zerg,” he announced, standing

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 45

up again. “They’re not coming up through here but
we know they’re below us. We’ve got to assume they
know we’re here, too. I want the squads to double
up,” he told Mannix, who nodded. “Defensive forma-
tion. Continue the scouting, though. We need to find
a way in.”
While Mannix organized the men, Raynor squeezed
the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger,
trying to will away the headache he felt forming. He
shut his eyes—
—and found himself alone, the sky turned darker,
the sun vanished but the moons high. His rifle was
gone, as was his pistol and even his boots. He stood
there, the ash drifting between his toes, and watched
the horizon darken further, but not from the onset of
night. This was a more organic darkness, a wave of crea-
tures moving toward him, their dusky hides drowning
the light as they came.
In what seemed an instant they were around him,
and he spun, searching for a way out. He had none.
They were everywhere, surrounding him and then
pressing in upon him, his flesh taking numerous cuts
from the spikes and blades and claws on every side.
They towered over him, trapping him in their shad-
ows, and he shuddered even as a wave of relief rippled
through him. Not just relief, but pleasure, excite-
ment—he was happy to see them! He was glad they
had found him, glad they were so close, glad they were
touching him. Their limbs tangled about him, making
it difficult to tell where one ended and another began,

46A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


and he was glad of that as well. Glad he was one with
them. One of them.
“Sir?”
The touch on his arm startled him, and Raynor
fought back the reflex to fire, shoving his rifle point
away from a surprised Mannix. The men were arrayed
behind her, waiting. Messner, who had been crouch-
ing beside him at the crevice edge, was still straighten-
ing up, as he had been when Raynor had shut his eyes.
A second, maybe two, he realized; that’s how long I
was out. It seemed so much longer. Long enough for
the dream to reach me. Was I asleep? Or is it just that
much stronger planetside?
“Let’s go,” he told Mannix, and she nodded, what-
ever concerns she’d had vanishing before the task at
hand. They set out again, their squad and the Nemesis
team combined, men circling the center, never leaving
a quadrant unwatched or uncovered. It was slower
this way but much safer, especially now that they
knew the zerg were below them. Raynor wasn’t taking
any chances.


“Sir, we’ve got a problem.” It was Horner, calling
on his private link, and Raynor responded, making
sure the command circuit was off so the conversation
wouldn’t be broadcast.
“What’s wrong, Matt?” he asked. It had been sev-
eral hours now. They hadn’t found a single entrance
they could use, though they’d seen plenty of craters
and several more crevices. The zerg were still down

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S47

there, visible through some of the cracks, but if the
Swarm had detected their presence they weren’t
attacking yet. Either they didn’t know or they had
something more important to do, Raynor thought.
“We’ve got readings, sir,” Horner continued. “Incom-
ing ships.”
“Duke’s reinforcements?”
“No sir,” Horner replied, and the fact that he didn’t
sound pleased made Raynor uneasy. Whatever was
coming, his second would have preferred Terran
Dominion warships. This couldn’t be good. “It’s protoss,
sir,” Horner explained, and Raynor resisted the urge to
shoot something, anything.
Protoss. Here. Now.
It made sense, in a way. Everywhere he’d seen zerg,
the protoss had arrived as well. Often the tall, graceful
aliens had appeared after the zerg had infested a world
and had then wiped the planet clean—not just of zerg
but of everything: all higher life-forms, all traces of civ-
ilization. That’s what they’d done to Mar Sara, his
homeworld. He already knew that zerg and protoss
were bitter enemies and fought at every turn. The pro-
toss seemed determined to eliminate all traces of zerg
and followed them around like cosmic exterminators,
cauterizing whole worlds to prevent the Swarm from
spreading. If the zerg were here on Char, of course the
protoss were as well. Or would be soon.
“Keep me posted,” he told Horner, but he was
already thinking through the possibilities. They’d
teamed with the protoss several times before to elimi-

48 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


nate zerg—the zerg wanted to corrupt and absorb Ter-
ran life while the protoss just wanted to stop the zerg,
so it was an easy choice of allies. Could he strike a deal
with the protoss again? The last time he’d seen them
had been on Tarsonis, when Mengsk had ordered his
men to engage the alien race despite their common
enemy. Mengsk had wanted the Psi-Emitter’s to do
their job and summon the zerg in force so they would
destroy the Confederacy’s Capital World. He hadn’t
wanted the protoss to interfere and stop the process. It
had been part of the reason Raynor had walked out—
but would the protoss know that? Or care?
“How did they find this place?” he wondered aloud,
ignoring Mannix’s questioning glance. Every other
time the protoss had followed the zerg to a Terran
world, but in many cases they hadn’t arrived fast
enough to have been tailing the Swarm. On Chau Sara
and Mar Sara, for example, the zerg had been there for
weeks or even months before showing any signs, and
the protoss had only arrived after the damage was
done. So what were they doing here now? Had the
zerg been here on Char that long? If so, they’d have
the entire planet mined and mapped—and Raynor had
brought his men into a killing ground.
But what if the protoss had come here for another
reason? What if, this time, it wasn’t the zerg they had
tracked? The zerg were telepathic, Raynor knew—the
entire Swarm was linked together and members could
communicate instantly across entire planets. He sus-
pected that the protoss were also telepathic, though

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S49

their warriors seemed to have more autonomy than did
the zerg. He didn’t think the protoss were a hive-mind,
but what if they were psionic? Kerrigan had to be
incredibly powerful to reach across space to both him
and Mengsk. What if she’d reached out to the protoss as
well? Or what if they’d simply received the dreams
unbidden, the signal so strong it had struck them on its
way to him? The dreams definitely involved zerg, and
that might have been enough to attract the protoss.
Of course, that didn’t mean their presence was a
good thing. Not given their tendency to annihilate any
planet the zerg had tainted. And Char was definitely
tainted.
“Listen up, people,” Raynor announced on the com-
mand channel. “We’ve got protoss incoming as well. We
don’t know whose side they’re on. Don’t shoot first, but
don’t let down your guard.”
If they were lucky, he thought as he beckoned to
Mannix, the protoss would keep the zerg busy for him.
Maybe they’d even blast open a way down to the zerg
tunnels, and he could simply follow them in. It wasn’t
likely, though.
“I want to know where they land,” he told Mannix.
“They might lead us in. But be ready to fall back to the
shuttles if I give the word. If they start lighting this
place up we’ll hightail it back to the Hyperion and wait
for the smoke to clear.”
“Yessir.” She glanced around. “We haven’t found a
way down yet, sir. If the protoss don’t show us one,
how much longer you want to look?”

50A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Raynor thought about his dreams, and the woman
sending them. “As long as it takes, Sergeant. As long as
it takes.”
Part of him, however, knew it wouldn’t be that
long. The dreams were getting more frantic and more
distorted. He could feel Kerrigan’s urgency. Whatever
was going to happen, it was going to be soon.
“We got a hole!” someone shouted, and Raynor
shook off the foreboding to scramble toward the
trooper. It was Deke Cavez, the youngest member of
his team, tall and slight and fast enough to run down a
hoverbike on foot. Cavez was standing by a crater with
his partner, Melinda Squire, and Raynor could already
see that this one was larger than the holes they’d
found before. It was at least five feet across and its lip
rose a full three feet from the ground, creating a short
cone. The sides were rough and ash-covered, but the
interior glittered a glossy black.
“It’s big enough,” Mannix confirmed, peering into
the crater. “Looks like it runs all the way down, too.
We should be able to—” The rest of her sentence was
cut off as she stumbled back, barely avoiding a scythe
blade that lashed out and up from inside the crater.
Raynor caught her as she fell, shoving her farther back
as he brought his rifle to bear, its barrel rising along
with the snakelike creature that sprang up from the
hole, flared head darting about to study them, scythe-
arms already twitching for a second attack.
A hydralisk. Raynor had seen them before—hell, it
had been a hydralisk and some zerglings that had

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S51

caused his encounter with Mike Liberty, the same
encounter that had led to his meeting Mengsk and
Kerrigan. The same encounter that had ultimately led
him here. He owed the hydralisk for making him who
he was today.
He repaid the favor by opening up with his gauss
rifle, firing a row of metal spikes deep into the snake-
like zerg’s head. It toppled to one side, the impact driv-
ing it to the ground, the glow already fading from its
eyes. It hadn’t seen Raynor yet and he hoped it had
died before revealing their location to the rest of the
Swarm.
“Right.” He glanced over at Mannix, already back on
her feet. She nodded. “All teams, converge. We got us a
hole. We’re going in, but be warned—the zerg’re already
down there, and they know about this entrance. Let’s
just hope they don’t know we’re coming.”
But somebody does, he thought as he watched
Cavez and Squire leap into the crater, followed by
Ayers and Patel. Kerrigan must know we’re here. I’m
coming, darlin’. I’m coming. Then it was his and Man-
nix’s turn, and, shouldering his rifle, Raynor jumped
feetfirst into the darkness.

CHAPTER 4




THE CRATER TURNED OUT TO BE THE TOP OF A
long, straight chute. The sides had cooled long ago,
but the lava that had erupted through it had been hot
enough to melt the rock to glass, and the walls were
water-slick and perfectly smooth. Raynor plummeted
like a stone, bruising arms and legs whenever he
bumped against the sides, careful to keep his head
tucked in and his limbs wrapped around his rifle. The
fall felt endless but it was probably less than a minute
before he spied a glow below him, and then he was
curling into a ball and striking the floor hard enough
to leave him dizzy and gasping.
“All right, sir?” Cavez offered him a hand, and after
a minute he took it. The youngster looked unfazed, but
then he’d jumped in first and so he’d had a minute to
recover. Raynor did his best not to show just how wob-
bly he was—wouldn’t do to let his men see him col-
lapse like a little girl.
“Fine, thanks,” he rasped, clambering to his feet and

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 53

leaning back against the wall while he waited for his
vision to clear. Behind him he heard a thud and a
groan that could only be Mannix, following him
down. Ayers was there to help her up and move her
out of the way and suddenly Raynor knew he didn’t
need to worry about looking weak. They’d all need a
minute to recover. It was one hell of a drop.
He glanced around, squinting to see better. Two
glowsticks lay on the ground nearby, producing the
light he’d seen, and he realized they’d been lit to pro-
vide a clue to the sudden stop at the end. It was a smart
move, and he wondered which of the four troopers
had thought of it.
The glow wasn’t much, but as his eyes adjusted he
could make out more of the space where they’d
landed. It was broad and high, at least four feet above
his head and wide enough for four men abreast. He’d
have preferred something narrower, since that would
have kept the zerg from mobbing them, but it couldn’t
be helped. The rough corridor extended in both direc-
tions without branches, and he noticed it had a slight
incline. The lower end pointed back the way they had
come.
“Which way, sir?” Mannix asked, wincing slightly
as she popped her neck and worked her right shoulder
back into joint. Two more pairs had arrived, one-
fourth their crew, with the others and the full Nemesis
squad still topside.
“Not sure yet,” he admitted, pushing off from the
wall and walking a little ways down the corridor. If the

54A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


zerg were in this tunnel they hadn’t noticed them yet
or were too far away to be detected. He had a feeling
they weren’t here—the chute had been long enough
to get them down here but that didn’t mean it ran all
the way to whatever level the Swarm was using. He
knew they liked it deep. But the lava had flowed up
from here, which meant there had to be a way down
from this point. He just had to find it.
“All right, Kerrigan,” he muttered. “I’m here. Now
where the hell are you?”
Closing his eyes, he was instantly thrust back into
the nightmare version of this world. This time the
monster-zerg already had him surrounded, and as he
lifted his hands to shield himself he saw that his skin
had darkened, but unevenly, his flesh now blotchy and
gray, almost green, clearly unhealthy. Yet his body felt
strong, capable, powerful. Energy thrummed through
him, invigorating him, setting his hair on end—
Raynor forced his eyes open again, cutting the
dream off abruptly. It had been waiting there for him
behind his eyelids, ready to spring the instant he fell
into darkness. He was almost afraid to blink, in case it
came back into that space and pulled him away. But
his gamble had worked. The dream was stronger here
than it had been on the surface. Kerrigan was closer.
Walking past his curious troopers, he stalked a dozen
paces in the opposite direction and closed his eyes again.
One of the zerg was touching him, its scythelike
limbs poking into his mottled flesh, but it was not
attacking. There was no force behind the thrust, no

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 55

aggression—it was merely a way of making contact.
And through that contact came a voice, deep and cold,
a voice that resounded through his bones and sent
chills up his spine. Yet for all that, it felt strangely com-
forting.
“Welcome,” it said to him. “The Swarm embraces
you.”
The shock of that message popped his eyes back
open and Raynor stood there a moment, gasping,
before turning back to his crew. “This way,” he told
them, barely able to spit the words out. The dream had
been stronger this time than before. Part of that was
the urgency, he knew, some impending event that
Kerrigan was desperate to avoid. Part of it was simply
that the dreams were getting worse, their story playing
out to an unpleasant end he desperately tried not to
acknowledge. But part of it was proximity. He was sure
he was right. Kerrigan felt closer this way. He was lead-
ing his men in the right direction.


The corridor dead-ended a hundred paces farther
down, but just before that point Cavez spotted a
branching. A narrow passage split off to one side, its
sharply angled walls and irregular path evidence that it
was a natural fissure. The rock here was slate gray
rather than black and they could see a darker patch at
the far end, either volcanic rock or an opening. Either
way it was their best option, and they headed toward
it, creeping along single file. Ayers took the lead, with
Patel right behind him.

56 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“It’sanotherpassage,” Ayerscalledback,and
sounded like he was about to elaborate when he let out
a wheeze and then a short gasp. Patel’s rifle sounded,
the report deafening in that narrow space, and Raynor
cursed from his spot four men back. It had to be zerg!
And here they were, unable to retreat, unable to form
ranks, emerging one by one like peas popped loose from
a pod. This was likely to be a slaughter.
He had to do something fast to even the odds, and
he did it. Grasping a heavy sphere from his belt, he
primed it and lobbed it overhand. The grenade flew
past him, over Mannix and Cavez and Squire, and dis-
appeared into that darkness where Patel had ventured
after Ayers.
“Grenade!” Raynor shouted, dropping to a crouch,
and Messner behind him and Mannix before him did
the same. He hoped Patel had heard.
Then the grenade went off, sending a shock wave
back through the passage. The walls shook and slivers
of rock fell, slicing flesh and canvas and leather,
bouncing off metal. But the ceiling held, the floor
didn’t crack open, and an instant later Patel called out,
“All clear!”
They hustled then, stealth forgotten, wading into
the smoke and dust, and a minute later Raynor was
out of that narrow fissure and into a much wider cor-
ridor, his back against the wall, rifle at the ready. Patel
had a nasty cut along one arm and looked like he’d
been worked over by a dozen large drunks, but he was
still standing and still had a grip on his rifle. Ayers

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 57

hadn’t been so lucky. The veteran trooper lay on the
ground just beyond the fissure’s exit, blood pooling
beneath him from the gaping hole in his chest and
from the places where his arms had been. The
hydralisk had stopped him from shooting by shearing
both arms off at the elbow, then it had gutted him.
They hadn’t even heard the first blow. Fortunately the
hydralisk hadn’t been expecting a grenade. Judging
from the body it had taken the impact full force in the
chest and head, and had been squashed like a bug
against the far wall. Raynor hoped it had been painful
but knew it probably hadn’t.
“Well, they know we’re here,” he said, shaking his
head. “Nothin’ for it, then. Leastways we don’t have to
be quiet anymore.” He clicked his rifle over to full
auto, and heard many of the troopers doing the same.
“Get hold of the other crews,” he told Mannix. “Relay
it back if you can’t get a signal to them from down
here. Get everyone down here. We’re gonna need
‘em.” Mannix nodded and called Messner to her, pre-
sumably to coordinate the process of reaching the
other teams. Raynor knew he could trust her to take
care of it. Soon they’d have everyone down here with
them, roughly three hundred troopers. He hoped it
would be enough.
He watched for another minute as the rest of the
two teams made their way through the fissure. Squire
and Cavez moved Ayers’ remains off to one side. Gina
Elani, one of Messner’s team, bandaged Patel’s arm.
Everyone was ready. Then, because this tunnel ran in

58 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


two directions and he could see several branches
already, Raynor gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.
More of the monster-zerg were touching him now,
their claws and spines jabbing but not penetrating his
skin, and the voices had amplified, creating a ringing
echo behind his eyes and between his ears. The words
were the same, though.
“Welcome. The Swarm embraces you.”
Shuddering, Raynor opened his eyes, reassuring
himself that it was just a dream. Then he walked to the
other side of the fissure and let the dream take him
again. It took all his willpower to come out of it, to step
away from that cold, clammy, smothering greeting,
but he had his answer. He gestured in that direction.
“This way,” he told his people.
As they followed him down the natural hallway, he
hoped Kerrigan was worth it. And he hoped the scene
in his dream was only an interpretation of her fear, not
a peek at what was really going on inside her head.
Because if it was accurate, they might all be doomed.
And Raynor knew it would be his fault for bringing
them here, to this world, to these caverns, to this mess.


The tunnels continued, one leading to another.
Raynor used the dreams to find his way through each
intersection, following the stronger path each time.
And each time he had to force himself back to the pres-
ent, back to his own flesh and blood, wrenching his
mind from that stifling welcome that awaited him in
the darkness. The urge to scream welled up within him

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 59

and he fought it back, tightening his grip on his rifle
until he was surprised the barrel and stock didn’t have
his fingerprints squeezed into the hardened plastic.
They encountered several more zerg. Each time it
was only a small group of the aliens and each time
Raynor’s troopers made short work of them, though
not without cost. Patel had survived that first attack
with a wound to one arm and made it through a sec-
ond unscathed, only to have his face bitten off by a zer-
gling that leaped from a small hole in the ceiling and
tore into him on the way down. Gina Elani, the petite
trooper who had bandaged Patel’s first wound, was
sliced in half by a hydralisk when she stopped to give
one of her fallen teammates a hand up. That teammate
died as well, his chest ripped open even as Messner
fired a full clip into the zerg’s back. Others also fell,
many Raynor knew only a little and some he didn’t
even recognize except as names on a list. He vowed to
look up every last one of them if he made it out of this
alive. They deserved that much.
The small zerg groupings were probably due to the
narrow passages and crooked tunnels. Once or twice
they found themselves in wide corridors like the first
one below the chute, but those never lasted. These
caverns were natural, never altered by zerg or any
other, and they started and stopped, twisted and
turned, dove and rose at random, going from avenue-
wide to stairwell-narrow in a heartbeat and doubling
around razor-edged corners or ribboning off out of
sight. Cracks in the floor led to other levels, as did

60 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


holes in the ceiling, but some of those gaps led to tiny
pockets instead, and it was impossible to guess what
lay beyond each opening. One trooper died because he
dropped down through a crack and fell into a magma
pool, burning to ash in an instant. Another thrust his
head up through a hole above and cracked his skull
against the rocky ceiling of the two-foot-high space.
He might have survived if he hadn’t broken his neck
when he fell back to the tunnel below.
Raynor’s dreams—they were more like waking
visions now, always threatening to overlap reality and
overwhelm his sense of self—were all that kept them
going. He heard several troopers muttering behind
him, wondering how he could possibly know where to
go in this maze, but Mannix and the other sergeants
shushed them quickly. No one really wanted to believe
he didn’t know the way, anyway. That would only
make this worse.
Finally Raynor led them down a short, almost
straight tunnel, high enough for him to carry another
trooper upright on his shoulders and wide enough for
him to fling his arms out without scraping the sides. At
the other end was a wide arch, its surface stone but
covered by a pulsing gray-black matter that looked less
like the fungus it was than exposed brains. It was the
zerg ooze, the creep that had showed their presence on
several planets as it crept across the surface, matching
their spread beneath. It meant that Raynor and his
people had finally reached a place here on Char where
the zerg had made themselves at home.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S61

“Sir!” Cavez pointed, and Raynor followed his ges-
ture, catching his breath as he saw the shape sus-
pended near the center of the arch. It was an eye, a
human eye, or at least it would have been if humans
grew twenty feet tall. A cluster of thick tendrils trailed
behind it and were wrapped around what looked like
massive web strands crisscrossing the arch. The eye
hung from them like a horribly altered spider, wrig-
gling as they approached its web.
“Somebody blind that ugly sucker!” Raynor shouted,
and Squire took aim and fired. A single spike plunged
deep into the eye, dead-center on its massive pupil, and
with a grating squawk the eye burst, showering them
with bits of jellied goo. The tendrils still clung to the
web, twitching slightly.
“Guess there’s no sense knocking,” Raynor mut-
tered to Mannix beside him, and she mustered a weak
smile in return. The eye had obviously been a sentry,
and it had seen them approaching this whole time. The
Swarm knew they were here.
“Get ready!” Raynor shouted over his shoulder,
knowing Mannix would relay his message to the squads
too far back to hear him. “We’re about to have com-
pany!”
As if his words had been the trigger, a flutter of
shapes appeared on the far side of the arch, casting
shadows upon the web there. Then the strands burst
and the Swarm was upon them.
Earlier, in that fissure, Raynor had wished for more
room. Now he would have killed for less. The tunnel

62 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


here was broad enough for three men to stand together,
and the archway filled that width. That meant the zerg
had enough space to charge in a cluster, spilling through
the arch and threatening to engulf his troopers by num-
bers alone. A narrower space would have forced the
zerg to trickle through instead of flood and they could
have held them off more easily. Still, the goal wasn’t to
hold them but to get past them. Raynor didn’t need to
close his eyes to know that Kerrigan must be on the
other side of that arch.
Getting through was going to be a problem, though.
He shot a hydralisk through the head with his rifle and
then drew his pistol and shot another that had been
about to gut Mannix from behind. Steadying his pistol
barrel atop and across his rifle, he fired one and
then the other, blasting anything in his way. Zerglings
were everywhere, leaping at men’s heads or chewing
through their arms or clamping those massive jaws
around their ankles, tangling limbs and guns and leav-
ing them vulnerable. The hydralisks were right behind
them, as were the mutalisks, both using their spikes
and blades to carve through the human forces. Raynor
saw Squire go down, scythes from two different
hydralisks meeting in her chest, her rifle shoved down
by the blows and discharging at her feet, kicking up
rock shards as the spikes struck the ground. Messner
fell beneath a pack of zerglings and was literally ripped
apart—Mannix saw it as well and was kind enough
to put a bullet through the young trooper’s head
before he could register the pain. Raynor’s troops

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 63

were good, well-armed and well-trained and well-
motivated, but they were drastically outnumbered.
The tight quarters—wide enough for them to be sur-
rounded but not wide enough for them to back
away—didn’t help. The zerg were all linked together,
speaking to each other’s minds, and that let them
move as a single body. Raynor’s people weren’t so
lucky. They stumbled against one another, blocked one
another’s shots, and sometimes even shot each other.
That didn’t help.
“We need to get inside!” he shouted to Mannix.
They were back-to-back, firing at anything that came
too close—more than once he’d had to jerk his gun
away to avoid shooting a trooper. “We don’t have time
for this!”
“Let’s go!” she shouted back. “Everyone, form up on
me! Cover fire!” Not everyone heard her through the
tumult, but enough did and some twenty men and
women grouped around them, all facing outward.
They began walking as a clump, locking step to avoid
stumbling, firing in all directions at once. Every time
someone emptied a clip the neighbor took over, cover-
ing that angle until they had reloaded. The zerg
couldn’t get to them, couldn’t breach that wall of steel
and plastic and powder. They made it under the arch,
and then they were inside. The rest of the troopers
were still in the tunnel, and they waited until Raynor
and Mannix were past the arch before unleashing a
rain of bullets. The zerg were forced to turn their
attention to the larger threat again and swarmed down

64 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


the tunnel, leaving the handful around Raynor with a
moment to breathe and look around.
“What is this place?” one of them, a young man
named Fedders, whispered. He was shaking slightly,
and Raynor couldn’t blame him. What they’d just
been through, and what they were seeing now, was
enough to shake anyone.
This chamber was far larger than the tunnel beyond
it, wide enough for a shuttle to fit within and tall
enough for one to stand upright without grazing the
domed ceiling. The walls were covered in creep, which
shed a faint light that pulsed all around them, leaving
Raynor slightly nauseous. Zerg moved here and there
in the room, smaller zerglings like giant maggots
writhing through mounds of creep piled at intervals
upon the floor while hydralisks and others stood
guard.
“It’s a breeding ground,” Raynor told the others,
remembering what Mike and Kerrigan had told him
once about an encounter on Antiga Prime. “It’s where
the zerg are born.” At the center of the room was a clus-
ter of zerg, at least forty of them, including hydralisks,
ultralisks, and even the airborne mutalisks. Off to the
side he spotted two massive, sluglike creatures, their
sides pulsating as if lit from within, perched on mounds
of creep and festooned with streamers of similar organic
material—Raynor remembered they were called cere-
brates and were essentially zerg commanders. He could
see several zerg eggs, pulsing green and red upon their
mounds of creep. But between the zerg at the center he

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 65

saw something far larger, something that glowed and
gave off sparks like small lightning. He knew immedi-
ately that was his target.
“Everyone, on me!” he shouted, raising his rifle and
slamming home a fresh clip. “We need to breach that
thing!”
The zerg heard him coming, or sensed him, or sim-
ply anticipated his attack. “Cerebrate!” one of the cer-
ebrates shouted, its voice an odd rasp that cut at
Raynor’s ears and produced a dull throb behind his
eyes. “The Chrysalis is opening! Do not allow any Ter-
rans near it!”
The second cerebrate lifted its front end toward the
archway and, responding to its mental commands, the
lesser zerg pulled away from the cocoon and charged
toward the Terrans. The other cerebrate hunched
closer to the strange pulsing oblong, like a protective
mother warily circling her prize egg.
Raynor and his team braced themselves for the
moment of contact. Just before the zerg reached them,
however, Mannix pulled a grenade from her vest,
primed it, and lobbed it at the approaching creatures. It
struck just before a hydralisk and blew the creature
apart as it detonated, the blast taking several others
with it and battering a dozen more aside. Raynor
quickly fired into those dazed zerg, killing them before
they could recover. Then the rest were upon them and
he was back to firing pistol over rifle and rifle under
pistol, swiveling the barrels left and right to keep his
front covered.

66A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“Get going, sir!” Mannix shouted at him, nodding
her chin toward the cocoon. “Take care of that thing!
We’ve got this!”
Raynor hesitated only a second, then nodded. “Stay
frosty!” he hollered, then fired both guns on full auto
in a semicircle before him. The zerg there were blasted
to bits, and before any others could fill the gap he had
charged through and was past them. Behind him he
heard another grenade go off, and the sound of gunfire
increased. Mannix and the others were covering his
charge. He knew, deep down, that it would probably
mean their deaths. They knew it too. But this was the
job. This was why they’d come.
The creep underfoot clung to his boots and Raynor’s
outright run turned into a stumbling jog, but he still
covered the distance to the cocoon before any other
zerg could come after him. He ejected the spent clips
from each gun and reloaded as he slowed to avoid
crashing into the thing. He targeted the approaching
cerebrate, but it paused and swiveled away, inching
back until it had vanished into the haze of creep
strands that hung in tatters from the ceiling. Now it
was just Raynor and the cocoon.
The thing was easily twice his size, he realized as he
examined it more closely. Its surface was pocked and
pitted, lumpy like thick porridge, and it writhed as he
watched. The thing, that shell itself, was alive! It was
still giving off sparks, and his hair stood on end as he
approached it. But Raynor didn’t back away.
“Kerrigan?” Reaching out, he set one hand upon

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 67

the thing, feeling the jolt as his fingers touched it
through his gloves. He could just make out a shape
within, twisting, limbs flailing against the cocoon’s
pulpy shell. But this couldn’t be Kerrigan—even
though he could see only a hazy outline, the figure
within had too many limbs.
Perhaps it was the touch of his hand against it, or
the sense of his proximity. Perhaps it was simply a mat-
ter of timing. But whatever the reason, as he watched
Raynor saw first one limb lash out, then another, strik-
ing the cocoon near the top—and slicing through, a
wicked spike drilling its way out. The cocoon stretched
as the rest of the spike tried to tear free, its sticky sur-
face pushed to the limit. Another hard thrust came
from within, a second spike appearing, the cocoon’s
upper edge distended farther—and then it burst like a
rotten melon, the skin peeling away and the interior
spurting forth. Without the surface tension the rest of
the skin fell away limp, pooling on the ground, and
Raynor stepped back to avoid suffocating within its
slick folds. Thick, oily liquid followed it down, washing
across his boots and spreading a thin sheet across the
chamber floor. The creep absorbed it and thickened,
growing darker, and its pulse became stronger. But
Raynor didn’t notice that. He was too busy gaping at
the figure that stood revealed as the cocoon—what he
now remembered the zerg calling a Chrysalis—fell
away.
Kerrigan was a tall, powerfully built woman with a
fine, full figure that had sparked the thoughts that had

68 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


led to her calling him a pig when they first met. She
had pale skin turned almost tan by her travels, piercing
green eyes, a lush mouth a little too wide for her heart-
shaped face, and a glorious mane of fiery red hair she
kept tied back when she worked. With her intelli-
gence, her combat skills, and her telepathy, she was a
fascinating, graceful, deadly woman. She was the most
stunning and infuriating woman Raynor had ever met.
This was not Kerrigan. This was some winged hor-
ror from his worst nightmares. It was nothing like the
woman he had loved.
Or, rather, it was. But it wasn’t. Raynor still stared,
his weapons forgotten, the battle behind him forgot-
ten. Nothing mattered, nothing even entered his
head but the woman—the creature—before him. It
had Kerrigan’s stature, her build, even her face. The
skin was wrong, though, a mottled green that looked
slick somehow, like the flesh of a dolphin or a seal. In
many places it was hard and glossy, a protective shell,
though he could see no pattern to the protection’s
placement. The armor extended to spikes over one
shoulder, at the elbows, along the back of her hands,
and along her legs. The eyes were still the same shape
but yellow instead of green, a bright yellow with
strangely shifting pupils. The hair, that wonderful red
hair, was now stalks, somewhere between tentacles
and spikes, sharp and cylindrical but limp around her
face and segmented like an insect’s legs—or a
human’s bones. The part that threw him the most,
however, the part that had made him think it could

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S69

not be her, was what had torn through the Chrysalis,
what he had seen flailing within the cocoon just
before that.
The wings.
This figure had wings, great majestic wings, the
wings of a giant bird or a bat—if that creature were
armored like an insect and had no fur or feathers or
skin for covering. For the wings were nothing more
than pairs of elongated, segmented spikes, great
hooked claws protruding from her back and reaching
down to her knees. Even as he watched they flexed,
their tips dripping ichor like a spider’s fangs, and he
somehow knew they were seeking prey.
This figure was not human. Yet its face, its fea-
tures—they were Kerrigan. Or at least they still bore
traces of the woman she had been. It was Kerrigan if
she had been twisted, remade as a parody of herself.
Kerrigan, transformed. Into zerg.
Now the dreams made sense. It had all been real,
not just a cry but a warning and a message. She had
shown him what was happening to her, bit by bit. He
remembered the welcome again, and that sense of
both loathing and acceptance that followed it. All of
that had come from her.
As if to cement his understanding he heard a voice
now, both in and out of his head. It was so deep it
echoed and so cold it made his teeth ache. And it was
a voice he had heard twice before. Once when it wel-
comed him in his dreams and once when it announced
the “power of that which is yet unborn!” Now that

70A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


voice spoke a third time, its words slithering up and
down along his spine.
“Arise, my daughter,” it cried, and there was no mis-
taking its exultation. “Arise . . . Kerrigan,” it crowed,
and all the zerg in the chamber bowed their heads. All
except one.
“By your will, father,” the figure in the Chrysalis
remains said proudly, head raised high. Her voice was
deeper, more resonant, and it echoed in his ears and in
his head as if each word carried layers of meaning and
emotion, too much for him to catch all at once. The
words rolled across and through him, sending shivers
down his spine. “I live to serve.” She stepped down,
gracefully exiting the bits of shell and fluid, standing
tall in the chamber. Kerrigan had been an imposing
woman, her head up to Raynor’s shoulder. This new
figure could have looked him in the eye, if she had
deigned to notice him. She did not, and he couldn’t
decide if he was relieved or disappointed by that.
Despite her radical transformation, he could still see
Kerrigan’s strength, the vibrancy and purpose that had
attracted him in the first place. In some ways he was
even more drawn to her now, mesmerized by her new
form and the new power he sensed within her. He
knew he should be repulsed, sickened, but he was fas-
cinated instead. A part of him wondered if that was
also part of her change, if this overwhelming attraction
was a chemical or mental assault, but he couldn’t
believe that, especially since she had not even seen
him yet.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S71

What the figure did see, however, was the fight near
the archway. Mannix and a few of the other troopers
were still alive and still battling the zerg, and Raynor
watched as the woman’s brow furrowed and her eyes
blazed with anger.
“Let all who oppose the Overmind feel the wrath of
the Swarm,” she announced, her wings flaring out
behind her, and at her words the zerg increased their
attack, biting and stabbing and slicing with renewed
frenzy. Mannix fell to a vicious blow from a hydralisk,
her head toppling several meters from her body, and
the blow severed another trooper’s arm as well. Others
fell right behind her, and in a moment Raynor was the
only one left alive.
The zerg had not survived unscathed, but they
didn’t seem to notice their losses as the remaining
creatures regrouped and turned back toward the cen-
ter of the chamber, their cerebrate still directing them
from its corner of the chamber.
“Well done, Cerebrate!” that same strange cold
voice boomed again. “What I have wrought this day
shall be the undoing of my enemies!” Then every zerg
turned toward Raynor, and he felt the wave of their
hatred wash over him. “Let not a Terran survive. . . .”
the voice commanded.
Raynor struggled to raise his rifle. Though he knew
the odds were hopeless, he planned to go down fight-
ing. But his rifle wouldn’t move. Glancing down, he
saw a hand on the barrel, a speckled green hand with
bladelike nails effortlessly stopping him from bringing

72 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


the weapon to bear. Looking back up, Raynor found
himself meeting the gaze of the creature from the
Chrysalis. It was a cold stare, the eyes bright but emo-
tionless, and the pupils danced independently, leaving
glittering trails in their wake. It was the look of an
alien, with no trace of the woman he had known.
“Mother of God,” Raynor gasped, unable to stop
himself. “Kerrigan, what have they done to you?”

CHAPTER 5




THE OTHER ZERG SLOWED TO A STOP, SEVERAL
only an arm’s reach away. They froze then, unmov-
ing, and Raynor listened dully to the conversation
taking place around him, numb despite the fact that
his fate hinged upon the outcome.
“Destroy the Terran,” the cerebrate demanded. “The
Overmind commands it.”
“This Terran is mine,” the former Kerrigan stated,
her tone leaving no room for argument. “I will dispose
of him in my own fashion. Leave us.” The other zerg
remained there, not approaching but not retreating,
and she bristled, quite literally, as the spikes that had
been her hair rose above her head and her wings arced
upward, vibrating with her rage. “Leave us!” she
repeated, and the other zerg bowed.
“As you command, o Queen,” the cerebrate acknowl-
edged. It did not move but somehow it seemed to dim,
the pulsing along its sides fading slightly, and Raynor
knew it had focused its attention elsewhere. The lesser

74 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


zerg passed through the arch and vanished from view.
Even the giant maggots had disappeared, Raynor real-
ized as he glanced around. The chamber was completely
empty save for the two of them and the inactive cere-
brate—and the remains of his soldiers here and beyond,
mingled with those zerg they had slain.
With the Swarm out of sight, Raynor stopped trying
to raise his rifle, and she released her grip as well, let-
ting the weapon fall back to his side. He stepped away
to stare at her more easily and she met his gaze calmly,
her hair settling back down around her face, though
the tips angled toward him, looking uncomfortably
like animate weapons. Her wings also dropped back
down to drape around her, but rustled slightly, giving
Raynor the uncomfortable sense that they could act
without her conscious control.
“Sarah,” he asked finally, reaching one hand toward
her face but stopping it just short of touching her, fas-
cinated and repulsed by her altered appearance. “Is
that really you?”
“To an extent,” she replied, the commanding echo
fading from her voice and leaving her sounding more
like the woman he remembered. She looked down at
her hands, turning them this way and that, flexing the
long fingers, extending the vicious claws. The tips of
her wings echoed the movement. “I’m far more than I
once was, Jim.” At the sound of his name he started,
and she glanced back up at him, her hands clenching
into fists. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she warned
him. He thought he heard sorrow, perhaps even pity,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 75

in her voice, and that shook him. Sorrow she’d known
in plenty, but Kerrigan hadn’t been one for pity.
Her words also confused him. He shouldn’t have
come? “But the dreams,” he argued. “I dreamed you
were still alive . . . that somehow . . . you were calling
to me.” Had he been wrong? Had this all been a mis-
take? A trick of his own mind? But how could he have
known what was happening to her then? How could
he have heard that voice inside his head if not through
her? She must have been sending those dreams!
“I was,” she admitted. She seemed to dwindle
slightly, the patches on her skin fading, the wings fold-
ing in upon themselves, and her hair turning softer
and more pliant, until she resembled the Kerrigan of
old once more. She turned her face from him, but he
could hear the pain in her voice and imagine the look
upon her face. It was the same face he’d imagined
when she had called to him for help back on Tarsonis,
when Mengsk had left her to die. “While I was in the
Chrysalis,” she explained, “I instinctively reached out
to you and Arcturus telepathically. Apparently, Arc-
turus sent Duke here to reclaim me. . . .” Raynor could
hear the bitterness behind that last remark, and in the
soft bark of laughter that followed.
“Yeah, he’s a little busy building an empire,” he said,
“so he sent his lapdog to stand in.” He laughed. “You
shoulda seen his face when I showed up.”
She smiled, a sad smile but a familiar one. “I can
imagine.”
“I’m here now, though,” Raynor pointed out. “And

76A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


so are you. We can get you outta here, Kerrigan. We can
get you someplace safe.” We can undo what they did to
you, he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Not that he needed
to—Kerrigan had been able to answer his thoughts
even before, and now she seemed far more powerful.
She was already shaking her head, and the mottling was
resurfacing, as if reflecting the turmoil within.
“But that was then, Jim,” she told him, turning to face
him again. “I’m one of the zerg now. And I like what I
am.” She raised her arms high, the shell-like spots shift-
ing across her limbs and torso as she moved, creating a
moving layer of protection. Her hair rose and reached
for the roof as well, yearning upward, and her wings
rose to their full extension, flaring out behind her. Even
in the dim light of the creep, he could see her eyes flash-
ing. “You can’t imagine how this feels . . . ,” she told him
finally, lowering her arms again, and somehow he
knew she was talking about more than just the physical
changes. The wings remained up, as if determined to
remind him how much she had changed.
“I am one with the zerg now,” she said, smiling. “It
is wonderful, Jimmy. It envelops me. It makes me
whole. I can never be alone again.”
“They called you a queen,” Raynor said, remember-
ing the cerebrate’s comment as he left, and her smile
grew wider.
“Yes, I am. The Queen of Blades.” She raised her
right hand, fingers spread wide, and the blades sprout-
ing from her fingertips rippled in response. So did the
spikes on her head and the wings at her back.

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 77

“Guess you’re not gonna give up bein’ royalty,” he
said, shaking his head. She didn’t bother to reply; she
didn’t need to. He could read her reply in her smile.
“So what?” Raynor asked, backing a step away and
shifting the grip on his rifle in case he needed to raise
it suddenly. “Are you goin’ to kill me now, darlin’?”
“It is certainly within my power,” she told him, and he
knew she was right. Even before her transformation
Kerrigan had been the deadliest fighter he’d ever seen.
Her skill with a gun was amazing, but her prowess with
knives was nothing short of phenomenal. He could only
guess what she could do now with the blades part of her
own body and her stature and speed enhanced by the
change. Mike had told him once about Kerrigan’s killing
an entire roomful of soldiers single-handedly, in a mat-
ter of minutes, without ever being touched. She proba-
bly could have handled all the troopers by the archway
on her own now. A part of him wanted to see her in
action, to admire her new talents. The rest of him
wanted to run screaming. Instead he stood very still and
waited to see what she decided. The ball was definitely
in her court.
Kerrigan flexed her finger-blades again, waving
them menacingly in his direction, and for an instant
Raynor thought he was dead. She was still smiling that
sad smile from her past, however, and she did not
move to close the distance between them. “But you’re
not a threat to me, Jim,” she told him finally, stepping
away and widening the gap. “Be smart,” she warned
him, that echo creeping back into her voice. “Leave

78A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


here now, and never seek to confront the zerg again.”
That last statement was issued like a command, and he
felt the force of her words and of her personality bear-
ing down on him, compelling him to submit.
“Doesn’t look like I have much choice,” he mut-
tered, hoping that would be enough to placate her. For
a moment they stood there, both armed but neither
attacking, the tension almost visible between them,
like a flicker of light. Then the moment passed and
Kerrigan turned, dismissing him utterly.
For a second he considered raising the rifle after all,
shooting her from behind. At this range he couldn’t
miss, and for all her powers and organic armor and
mottled skin and scary hair, a clipful of iron spikes
would still finish her. He was sure of it. Well, almost
sure.
But he never got the chance to test that theory. As
Kerrigan turned away her skin paled, then became
transparent. In an eyeblink she had vanished com-
pletely, fading from the edges in until finally nothing
remained. Raynor was alone.
Kerrigan was still nearby, he knew. She had gone
invisible, just as she had done when she’d been a
Ghost. He’d thought the process required a specialized
suit of combat armor. Apparently he’d been wrong.
Or perhaps the Queen of Blades simply no longer
required such props.
The Queen of Blades. The name sent a chill racing
through him. By adopting that title, she had made it
clear that the transformation had been a full success.

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 79

Sarah Kerrigan was gone. Only the Queen of Blades
remained. And she was not inclined to be friendly.
Still, she had let him live, and Raynor certainly
wasn’t complaining about that.
Holstering his pistol but keeping the rifle ready, he
staggered back to the archway and through it, forcing
himself to examine the remains of his team as he
passed them. They’d earned the right to hold his gaze,
and it would be insulting for him to look away just
because it made him uncomfortable. He made sure he
knew each face, each name, before turning away and
passing through the arch again. There were more
troopers on the far side, most of them stretched out on
the floor. But a few still stood, leaning against the tun-
nel walls, and these gave a ragged cheer when he
appeared.
“Sir!” It was Cavez, bandaged and battered but still
alive. The tall young man limped over to Raynor as he
carefully stepped through the pile of bodies littering
the ground. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” Raynor admitted, embarrassed to realize
that he had not been wounded beyond a few scrapes
and cuts. Cavez was far worse off, but here was the
trooper asking about his health instead of the other
way around. Still, he knew it was more than just his
wound status that Cavez was checking on. The trooper
wanted to know whether Raynor was prepared to take
charge again.
I’m not fit to lead, Raynor thought as he studied the
handful of survivors. It’s my fault you’re hurt, my fault

80 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


your friends are dead, my fault we’re here. I dragged
us across the galaxy and sacrificed a hundred or more
men just to chase down a woman who doesn’t even
want me around. Put that way it sounded ridiculous,
and he had to stop himself from laughing—he could
feel the laughter bubbling up inside, fueled by near-
hysteria, and he knew that if he started laughing he
might not stop. Instead he forced himself to concen-
trate. Cavez was hurt, as were most of the others. He
needed to get them to a medic, and that meant getting
topside again.
“Right,” he called out, “find a partner and form up!
We’ve got to retrace our steps as best we can. There
might be faster ways out, so keep your eyes peeled for
those, too. Let’s go.”
He motioned Cavez to fall in with him and together
they marched back down the corridor, checking the
sides and up above for any sign of the zerg. But they
saw only rock and bits of creep. Whatever zerg had
survived the recent battle were gone. Raynor tried not
to think about where they might be now.


It took hours for the battered band to reach the sur-
face. They saw no zerg along the way but still had
to contend with confounding directions, irregular pas-
sages, unstable tunnels, boiling magma pits, and other
dangers. Most of the surviving troopers were wounded,
no one not well enough to walk back but several not fit
enough to be of much use after so much hiking, and
they moved slowly even in the wide, straight tunnels.

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S81

Raynor had one of the men out front as a scout and
another in back as a rear guard, the two soldiers
instructed to stay as far away from the rest as was safe,
as quiet as possible, and as observant as anything. Nei-
ther of them called in any problems, not that he’d
expected any. Kerrigan—he still couldn’t manage to call
her “the Queen of Blades,” even to himself—had been
awakened now as part of some larger plan, judging
from what that voice had said. The zerg they’d seen so
far on Char were probably all scurrying to be part of
whatever she intended. That would definitely keep
them all busy while Raynor and his people escaped onto
the surface once more. He’d figure out their next move
once they were all back aboveground where they
belonged. “If man was meant to live in caves,” he mut-
tered, “he’d have much thicker skin, much weaker
eyes, a thick fur coat, and a serious slouch. That’s why
we invented lifts, lights, and lasers.”
“What was that, sir?” the nearest trooper asked, tilt-
ing a bandaged head in his direction.
“Nothin’, son,” Raynor replied. “Nothin’ at all.”
They followed the same path back that they’d taken
down, at least as far as they could. In several places they
had to deviate—at one point a cave-in had apparently
occurred after they’d left, perhaps triggered by the fight-
ing down below, and a narrow path was sealed tight
with rubble, the air around it thick with dust. A tunnel
they’d used before was still there, but whereas it had
been a steep slope down, now it was a steep climb up,
with nothing but glass-slick walls on either side, and

82 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Raynor didn’t think any of them could make that trip in
their current state, including him. Both times they
scouted the area and eventually found an alternate
route that took them away from their original entrance
point but kept them heading upward. That was the
most important thing, Raynor felt; to keep moving up,
toward the surface and the sky and the ships. Popping
up a mile away from their starting point wouldn’t mat-
ter as long as they did eventually pop back up. The idea
of staying down here forever was far too depressing to
consider for very long, and he shoved the thought away
every time it surfaced.
Finally Cavez, who had taken the role of lead scout,
came running back down a corridor, a big grin plas-
tered across his dirty, blood-smeared face. “I can see
daylight, sir!” he announced happily, and the others
cheered and laughed and shouted. A few even cried,
and no one razzed them for it.
“Good man,” Raynor said, blinking back tears him-
self. “Lead the way.” He followed close behind the
young trooper, and sure enough he soon stood at the
base of a short, wide chute that showed sunlight at the
top. The distance was too far to jump but they gave
one of the troopers, a thick-bodied man named Non, a
boost up into the chute. He pressed his back against
one wall and thrust his legs straight out in front of him,
his feet solidly against the wall opposite. Then, his
arms spread wide for balance, he began walking his
way slowly up the chute. It took half an hour, but
eventually he was able to peek over the rim.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S83

“All clear, sir,” he called back down, and everyone
breathed a sigh of relief. Raynor had been afraid of
another Ayers tragedy and was glad this time was dif-
ferent.
“Over the edge, soldier,” he called up. “This is no time
for sightseeing.” Non chuckled, saluted, and shoved hard
with his back and legs, swinging his arms up and forward
at the same time. His back left the wall just as his hands
caught the opposing lip, and he levered himself over the
edge and out of the chute altogether. A moment later his
face reappeared, and he dropped a rope to the others
waiting below. Raynor handed it to Cavez, who was fast
and light, and the trooper walked up it quickly until Non
was able to reach down and help him the rest of the way.
Then the two of them began hauling everyone else up
out of the tunnels.
When it was finally his turn Raynor tried his best to
help them, bracing himself against the chute wall with
his back and his feet, but he was exhausted and still a bit
numb and finally he gave up and let them pull him up,
doing little to aid their efforts. At last one of the troop-
ers, Ling, reached down and clasped his hand, and
Raynor used the added leverage to pull himself over the
chute’s lip and back onto solid ground. He collapsed,
ignoring the ash that rose about him and turned him
chalk-white from its debris, and simply lay there for a
moment, staring up at the sky. Then the day’s events
caught up with him and, without intending it, he closed
his eyes.

CHAPTER 6




THIS TIME THE DREAM WAS DIFFERENT, IF DREAM
it was. He was standing in a thick, rough-walled tun-
nel, able to see the stone walls and floor clearly despite
the lack of light. He could feel the rock beneath his
bare feet, taste the hint of sulfur in the air, scent a tan-
talizing trace of blood and flesh in the still, stale air. His
senses were alive, his body tingling with energy. He
felt amazing.
The zerg were all around him, as they had been in so
many of his dreams, but they weren’t frightening any-
more. They had shrunk, for one thing, or he had
grown—either way, the creatures no longer towered
above him but were at eye level or lower. They were not
crowding him, either, merely standing nearby. And the
air of unfamiliarity, of strangeness, of distance, had
faded, only a hint remaining around the edges. Before
these had been monsters, horrifying creatures whose
very forms he could not comprehend, let alone their
minds and motives. Now he understood them all too

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S85

easily, and that lack of mystery stripped away his fear.
How could he be afraid of these creatures when he
knew their names and could speak to them as an equal
or even a superior?
In fact, he was speaking to them now, he realized.
But the words pouring from his mouth were not in fact
his. They were Kerrigan’s.
She was addressing the enormous sluglike creature,
the one that resembled a flesh-cannon, the cerebrate.
“Cerebrate,” she told him, “you watched over me dur-
ing my ‘incubation,’ and I am grateful to you.” It flut-
tered slightly, and he was surprised to realize it was
pleased and proud. It had never occurred to him that
zerg might possess such emotions, and a part of his
mind wondered if he was simply assigning human traits
in an effort to understand them better. That felt right,
and he suddenly realized he was not the only one hav-
ing this thought. Kerrigan had thought much the same
thing and reached the same conclusion. The mind
sought to apply familiar patterns when facing unfamil-
iar events or beings, and despite her recent transforma-
tion a large portion of Kerrigan’s mind was still human.
“It is my wish that you continue your vigil,” she was
saying now, “so that I might strengthen my powers to
better aid the Swarm.”
No! Raynor wanted to shout. Don’t play along with
them! You’re not one of them! Don’t help them,
they’re the enemy! He struggled to beat his hands
against his head, to tug at his hair, to do something,
anything, to derail those thoughts of duty and involve-

86 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


ment. But unlike in the other dreams, he was not in
control here, not even of his own body. He was merely
an observer, with no power to affect Kerrigan’s actions
or the events that flowed from them.
He had missed the last thing she said while he was
mentally flailing, and now the second cerebrate, the
one that had stayed near her Chrysalis during her
emergence, was speaking. It horrified Raynor that he
could tell the creatures apart so easily.
“Though you be the favored servant of the Over-
mind,” this cerebrate snapped, and Raynor could hear
the anger in its voice, “you would do well to remember
that you are just a servant. You know of our grand mis-
sion, Kerrigan. Would you put your personal whims
before the will of the Overmind?”
The other zerg backed away, feeling the tension
stretched between their two commanders and antici-
pating a fight. Raynor expected it as well, knowing Ker-
rigan’s temper better than most, and so he was surprised
when she did not attack the cerebrate, which appeared
to have no physical defenses. Instead she simply
straightened and gave him a single hard, haughty
glance. Her bone-wings stirred, however, and flexed
toward the cerebrate, eager to carve the slug to shreds.
Raynor could sense Kerrigan’s response to that as well:
part horror that a part of her new body could be so dis-
obedient and willful, and part delight that her new form
possessed such protective instincts of its own.
“Do not cross me, Zasz,” she warned him, chin high,
eyes narrowed. “I will do as I see fit.” Then deliber-

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 87

ately, insultingly, she turned her back on him. “And
not you or any other cerebrate shall stand in my way.”
Zasz bristled at her tone and her clear snub. The
organic cannon body tensed and its inner light began
pulsing more rapidly until the entire body was aglow
with quick flashes of light. Several of the surrounding
zerg edged closer, chittering their leader’s rage, claws
and spines and scythes raised to strike on the cere-
brate’s behalf. The fool was going to attack! Raynor
could feel it, and a surge of excitement shot through
him, a surge he knew immediately was not his own.
Kerrigan had known what she was doing when she
spoke. She had deliberately pushed the cerebrate
beyond his breaking point. She wanted Zasz to order
an attack so she could destroy him and claim his brood
as her own. And she would destroy him, Raynor knew.
The cerebrate was a leader, a strategist, not a fighter.
Kerrigan was both, especially in this new incarnation.
The cerebrate was immobile, vulnerable, and relied
upon its brood to fight for it, while Kerrigan could out-
fight any of them. She would carve her way through
the other zerg and then destroy Zasz himself.
But before the cerebrate’s brood could attack a voice
cut across them all, paralyzing them with its deep tim-
bre and rolling pronunciation, a wave of sound that
washed over them and left them stunned and speech-
less. It was a voice Raynor had heard before, though he
had fervently hoped not to hear it again.
“Let her go, Zasz,” the voice intoned. “The greatness
of her spirit has been left to her that the Swarm might

88A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


benefit from her fierce example. Fear not her designs,
for she is bound to me as intimately as any cerebrate.”
The voice chuckled, the sound leaving Raynor feeling
dirty somehow, as if it demonstrated a humor beyond
his ability to understand and one that found amuse-
ment with concepts and actions he would find repug-
nant. “Truly,” it explained, “no zerg can stray from my
will, for all that you are lies wholly within me. Kerri-
gan is free to do as she desires.” The voice faded, leav-
ing Raynor weak in the knees and short of breath, and
he knew he was not the only one reacting so strongly.
Kerrigan had been overwhelmed by the voice as well,
and so had Zasz and the others.
The cerebrate quickly untensed. Its brood members
backed away as well, lowering their limbs to show
they meant no more harm.
“By your will, Overmind,” he acknowledged. Raynor
knew the creature had hoped for a different decision,
but he also knew that they would not have to worry
about this cerebrate, unless and until the situation
changed. No zerg would dare stand against the Over-
mind’s orders, he realized. Until that voice spoke, Zasz
had been determined to convince Kerrigan to do things
his way, by force if necessary. Now the Overmind had
instructed otherwise, and the cerebrate would carry out
those directives to the best of its ability.
“Cerebrate,” Zasz said, apparently to the second cer-
ebrate. “You must see that she comes to no harm. My
brood will remain behind to protect the incubation
chamber from further desecration.”

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 89

“My brood will die to protect her,” the other cere-
brate replied.
“As it should,” Kerrigan stated simply.
Raynor felt her turn and walk away, taking it for
granted that the second cerebrate’s brood would fol-
low. And they did. Raynor knew now, through Kerri-
gan’s thoughts, that the cerebrates themselves did not
travel—they were too large and bulky to move.
Instead they led their troops mentally, particularly
through their overlords. Thus both of these cerebrates
could remain in the incubation chamber, but Zasz
would be focused upon events here while the other
cerebrate’s mind would be following the activities of its
brood, which would accompany Kerrigan.
Another cerebrate sat in one corner of the chamber.
Raynor had not noticed it there before; it had somehow
masked its presence before this. Now he saw it plainly,
however, and somehow knew that this cerebrate was
older and more powerful even than Zasz. Indeed, this
third cerebrate, Daggoth, was the Overmind’s right
hand. Daggoth’s brood was clustered about it, and now
several hydralisks detached themselves from this cluster
and approached Kerrigan. “Cerebrate, take these, the
deadliest of my minions,” said Daggoth. “They shall aid
you in your search.”
“They shall be put to good use,” Kerrigan assured
him, and the zerg fell in with the others behind her.
Daggoth retreated mentally, intent upon his own
tasks, and Zasz had gone silent, leaving only Kerrigan
and her new followers.

90A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“We must attack at once,” she told the second cere-
brate. It occurred to Raynor that this one had no name,
and as soon as he thought it he knew why. Among the
zerg, names were a matter of recognition, only given
to those who had served the Overmind long and faith-
fully. Both Zasz and Daggoth had won that honor. This
cerebrate was young and had not yet distinguished
itself. Kerrigan, of course, was a special case, which
might explain Zasz’s resentment—she had retained
her original name and had been given another upon
her rebirth. But she was still speaking to the cerebrate,
and Raynor struggled to focus on her words. “Once I
have—”
“Sir?”
It took Raynor a moment to separate himself from
the last vestiges of the dream, to realize that he was not
stalking through an underground chamber with a zerg
brood anymore but lying upon the planet’s surface.
Cavez was leaning over him.
“Sir, everyone is clear,” the trooper reported.
Raynor nodded and accepted the younger man’s hand
up, shaking his head both to disperse the ash that
clung to his hair and rebreather and to clear the
dream-traces from his mind. What had Kerrigan been
about to say? he wondered. Where was she attacking?
Much as he hated the dreams, hated this last one par-
ticularly because it showed him how comfortable Ker-
rigan was in her new role, he wished Cavez had waited
an instant longer to wake him. That lost information
might prove immensely important.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 91

Too late to do anything about it now, however.
Brushing the more stubborn bits of ash from his gog-
gle lenses, he glanced around and took stock of their
situation. Twenty-three soldiers. That was all he had
left of the three hundred or so who had followed him
down. And many of the survivors were wounded,
some badly. They had weapons and plenty of ammo—
several of the more experienced troopers had been
alert enough to scavenge clips from the bodies of their
fallen friends. No food to speak of, of course; they
hadn’t planned to be down here that long. Everyone
carried a canteen of water and a few emergency
rations, but most of that had been consumed on the
trek down, or given to the injured to give them
strength for the return march.
“Back to the shuttles,” he announced finally, patting
one soldier’s shoulder where she sat, head between
her raised knees, arms limp at her sides. “Let’s go,
trooper,” he told her as gently as he could. “Plenty of
time to rest when we’re back off this rock.” He gave
her a hand up.
That was it then, he admitted to himself as they
gathered their gear, helped the injured to their feet,
and began walking toward the shuttle beacons indi-
cated on their comm units. The mission was over. He
had failed. He’d come here to find Kerrigan, which he
had, and to save her, which he couldn’t. She didn’t
want to be saved, and even if he’d had the means to
undo whatever the zerg had done to her, he didn’t
have the manpower to take her from them. Hell, he

92 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


wasn’t sure Mengsk did, even with the Dominion at
his beck and call. The only thing he could do now was
get the hell out of Dodge, mourn Kerrigan, and move
on. And hope to hell she didn’t come after him.


They were a long way from the shuttles, both
because they’d walked a good distance before finding
the chute down and because they’d wound up taking a
different route back to the surface. Fortunately this part
of Char was easy going, only a few low hills and shallow
valleys, and they plotted a direct line back to the shut-
tles from their current location. Raynor led the way,
with Cavez and Non right behind him, and the troopers
settled into their pace quickly, falling into the lockstep
rhythm of a forced march. Raynor matched it as well,
and the steady beat and monotonous scenery soon
lulled him into a half-sleep, leaving him still awake
enough to walk but not really conscious.
Apparently, that was enough to trigger the dreams
again.
He was on a ship now, and for a second he thought
this was just a normal dream, or even a memory of
something. Then a shadow moved in the corner of his
vision and he saw a limb, long and sinewy, brush the
corridor wall. The limb ended in a massive scythe of
jagged bone, and he knew at once that he was back in
Kerrigan’s head. There were zerg beside her, and now
he realized he could hear more of them behind,
rustling and scraping and hissing as they moved down
the steel-gray hall.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S93

The zerg were inside a ship somewhere.
How? was his first thought. Zerg couldn’t operate
vessels—they traveled through some sort of organic
space tunnel; one of Mengsk’s men had tried to explain
it to him once, but all he’d gotten was that they could
open warps between worlds without using any tech.
And, judging from most of the zerg he’d seen, they
wouldn’t have the manual dexterity to operate a Terran
ship anyway. Normally the zerg left ships alone, target-
ing the people, or they sent their massive mutalisks and
tiny, explosive scourge up to attack the vessels from the
outside. How could they be in one now? And it was def-
initely a Terran ship. He recognized the standard plastic
wall panels, the utilitarian gray carpet, the recessed
lighting along the juncture between walls and ceiling.
He’d spent far too much time on ships like this in the
past year.
And, it occurred to him, of course Kerrigan would
be able to operate a ship. Which meant the zerg could
now as well.
Why? was the second question that popped into his
head. If they could travel in space unaided, why would
the Swarm want a ship at all? What were they doing
there? But then he remembered the last words he’d
heard Kerrigan speak in his previous dream. “We must
attack at once,” she’d said. Did the attack have some-
thing to do with a Terran ship? And whose ship was it?
His were in orbit, he knew, but so were Duke’s. Despite
a slight pang of guilt, he hoped it was one of Duke’s
ships she had invaded. Maybe, if he was really lucky, it

94A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


was the Norad III herself. Let the old bastard deal with
her face-to-face!
As Kerrigan moved farther along the hall, however,
Raynor noticed more details, and his heart sank. The
blank, brushed metal walls, the dull carpet covering
the floor, the recessed lighting, everything functional
but not quite bare-bones military—this wasn’t a war-
ship. It definitely wasn’t the Hyperion, but it wasn’t the
Norad III either, or one of the carriers. It could be one
of his smaller ships, or Duke’s science ship or cargo
ship. Then a handful of people emerged from a door up
ahead and Raynor knew he’d been right. These were
civilians, techies and researchers. Regardless of whom
they worked for, they were defenseless against the zerg
now racing down the corridor toward them.
One woman screamed as she looked up and spotted
the aliens for the first time. She fell, her legs giving
way from shock, and just lay there sobbing as they
approached. A hydralisk made quick work of her, and
the sobbing stopped abruptly. Another woman had
backed away, clawing at the door she had just exited,
so panicked she forgot how to use the door panel. A
zerg speared her from behind, his claw passing
through her chest and denting the door. Then it shook
its arm and her body was tossed aside, blood spraying
the halls and everyone present. Several drops struck
Kerrigan and she brushed them away with one hand,
then absently licked her fingers.
Two of the civilians, a man and a woman, had been
near the back of the group and had not yet been

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 95

attacked. The man saw Kerrigan’s motion and gasped,
his eyes traveling up and down her form and his skin
paling as the sight registered fully.
“She’s infested!” he gasped. He threw an arm up in
front of the woman, a ludicrous gesture given the zerg
rapidly surrounding them. “Stay away from her!” he
shouted, though whether it was a plea to the approach-
ing aliens or a warning to the woman Raynor couldn’t
tell.
“Call for help!” the woman cried, and hearing her
shook the man from his daze. He punched a button on
the door panel, the Emergency Call button, and blue
lights began flashing all along the corridor. A siren
sounded as well, and now more people appeared in
the hall from other doors and intersections, screaming
and cursing as they saw the zerg. The man’s heroism
cost him his life, a zerg tearing his head from his shoul-
ders, and the woman followed, her chest split in half
and her organs torn free before the scream had died on
her lips.
Raynor was forced to watch, unable to wake up or
turn away, as the zerg continued their march through
the ship, slaughtering everyone in their path. A squad
of armed soldiers appeared finally, still buckling on
their armor, and Raynor was only a little cheered to
notice the Terran Dominion insignia. Whatever Kerri-
gan was up to, she had invaded one of Duke’s ships.
“You’ll never make it out of here alive, bitch!” one
of the troopers shouted, firing his gauss rifle on full
auto into the approaching brood. Several zerg were

96 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


hit, and two fell with steel spikes through their throat
and eyes.
“See?” another trooper bellowed, laughing as he
swung his weapon around to fire upon them. “They
ain’t so tough!” He let loose a barrage and more zerg
died. “These critters bleed just like anybody else!” he
shouted, and several of his comrades cheered.
Kerrigan had not been hit, however. A chill raced
up his spine as he saw why. One of the troopers aimed
at her and fired, a cluster of iron spikes racing toward
her. She raised one hand and the spikes simply
stopped in midair, slamming to a quivering halt as if
they’d run into a wall. A second gesture and the
spikes spun about and leaped toward the trooper,
punching him into a wall from the impact. The spikes
pierced not only the man but the wall behind him,
and his body was left hanging there as the rifle slipped
from his dead hands.
Kerrigan stalked forward, blocking and sometimes
reversing the attacks aimed at her. Behind her zerg
fell, but Raynor knew she didn’t care. They were
expendable. Only she mattered—her and her mission
here.
One of the troopers spotted her through the zerg
swarming around and past her. “We got company!”
he shouted, then gasped as he saw her more clearly.
He started to back away, and his eyes bulged as he
stopped, frozen in place. Kerrigan held him there,
paralyzed, as she stepped up behind him and rammed
her finger-blades through his back, slicing his spine to

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S97

ribbons. Before his body had toppled she was gone
again, moving to the next man, her wings writhing
with impatience, every barb angling toward her next
target. A single glance fried that trooper’s mind, and
she was already looking for a third as he swayed and
fell, blood leaking from his eyes and ears.
It took mere seconds for Kerrigan to move through
the opposition, and even from behind her eyes
Raynor had trouble following her movements. He had
always known, from the moment he first saw her,
that she was fast and deadly. His experiences with her
in the field had verified that, and Mike had told him
about the incident on Antiga Prime, when she had
dispatched an entire room of armed men with noth-
ing but a knife and a pistol. She was even faster now,
however, and she no longer needed any weapons but
the body the zerg had given her and the mind-powers
she had always possessed but had been unwilling or
unable to use. Men died quickly, too fast to scream,
and then the corridor was clear of her foes again and
the remaining brood members were climbing over the
bodies.
“This way,” Kerrigan commanded, turning toward
a stairwell, and the zerg followed her obediently.
Several more people died, both civilians and soldiers,
as she descended the narrow metal stairs—many of
the zerg had been forced to wait above, unable to
navigate the tight space, and judging by the sounds
they were killing anyone who ventured too close.
Kerrigan did not pause or deviate but headed to the

98A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


very bottom and then down a long, narrow, unre-
markable gray hall. She obviously knew where she
was going. It was definitely a science vessel she was
on, not a cargo ship—it was too small for cargo. But
why would she go after a ship like this? Why not take
out the Norad III instead? That was definitely the big-
ger threat.
“Here,” she said finally, stopping at the heavy blast-
door at the far end. The keypad lock was much more
complicated than any of the others on the ship, and
Raynor realized that he had never seen this door
before. Nor did he know what lay beyond it. But Ker-
rigan clearly did.
She didn’t bother trying the lock. Instead she grasped
the handle with one hand, plunged the fingers of her
other into the thin seam between the door and the wall,
braced herself with her feet wide apart, and twisted
from the waist. The door groaned, shuddered, and tore
loose, and she tossed it aside. The room beyond was
dark and smelled of stale air, but small lights blinked
somewhere within, and Kerrigan smiled.
“Good,” she said. “What I seek is within. Soon—”
Beep.
“What the f—?”
The beep woke Raynor from his walking slumber, as
did the curse that followed. The sound had come from
his comm unit, though he realized hazily that he had
heard it echoed behind him as well. The curse had
been from Non.
Glancing at his wrist, he saw the screen still dis-

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 99

playing the terrain grid he’d selected at the start of
their march, their path traced along it and ending at—
nothing.
The dot that should have been there was gone.
The dot that marked the location of the shuttle’s
beacon.
“Sir,” Cavez started, “we just—”
“I know, I know!” Raynor snapped, still staring at
his screen. What had happened? Where was the bea-
con? For that matter, where were the beacons for the
other shuttles, which had been displayed as well, but
dimmed, to distinguish them from the Hyperion’s?
Glancing behind him, he saw everyone looking at
their wrists, shaking them, pushing buttons. Everyone’s
displays were the same, all equally blank. A quick check
confirmed that the comm unit had just refreshed its
information, as it did periodically. The beacons had
shown clearly before, but when it scanned for them this
time they were gone. Something had happened in
between. Something to the shuttles.
The troopers had covered most of the distance back
already, and Raynor charged up the hill before him,
glancing at his screen to confirm what he had already
seen. The shuttles were just over this rise. Panting
from the exertion, using his hands to wave away the
ash that rose about him, he reached the top of the hill
and stared down into the valley below. The valley
where they had left the shuttles.
The valley that was empty save several wide swathes
where the ash had been scattered or burned away, dark

100A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


rock and dull soil showing through. That, and the bod-
ies he saw crumpled here and there near those swathes.
“No!” he shouted, barreling down the hill, rifle
ready though he could already tell he wouldn’t need it.
Whatever had happened here was long over. The shut-
tles were gone.

CHAPTER 7




“DEAD, SIR,” SAID ONE TROOPER, THE YOUNG
woman he had helped up before, moving away from
the body she had been examining. “Zerg, looks like.”
“Same here,” a second soldier confirmed, straight-
ening up from another body. Raynor nodded. It was
the same with the body he’d examined, a man named
Sanchez who’d piloted the Hyperion’s shuttle. Sanchez
had been torn to shreds, and the damage certainly
matched what Raynor had seen from the zerg—hell, it
matched what he’d witnessed just hours ago in the
tunnels.
The zerg had clearly been here. And they had killed
all his shuttle pilots and taken his shuttles. But why?
The zerg had never needed shuttles before—their
overlords could move through space unaided. Why
would they want his shuttles?
His comm unit beeped again, registering an incom-
ing signal, and Raynor accepted it and opened the
channel, still glancing around, his mind still struggling

102 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


with what had happened here. The voice that reached
him quickly demanded his full attention, however.
“Mayday, Mayday!” It was a woman’s voice and
didn’t sound familiar. “Can anyone hear this?”
He was about to reply when another voice cut in.
“Roger that,” it answered, and Raynor recognized
Duke’s gravelly snarl. “This is the Norad III. Go ahead.”
He was surprised to hear Duke answering a call per-
sonally, and decided to eavesdrop as long as he could.
Perhaps he’d learn something useful. Like maybe what
had happened to his shuttles.
“Sir!” Raynor could hear the relief in her voice.
“Sandler, sir, from the Amerigo. We’re under attack, sir!”
“Who’s firing on you?” Duke demanded, and
Raynor knew the general had assumed he was behind
this. Which was fair—if their situations had been
reversed he would have accused the vindictive little
ass in a heartbeat.
“It’s not an outside attack, sir,” Sandler replied
quickly. “It’s an invasion. They’re on the ship!” Raynor
thought he could hear gunfire behind her, and screams.
“Who’s on the ship, Captain?” Duke demanded.
“Who are you fighting?”
“Zerg, sir,” she said. “It’s the zerg! They’re here!” At
first Raynor thought the last statement was meant just
to reiterate the Amerigo’s plight, but then he heard
more gunfire, followed by a loud scream, a short hiss,
and then silence.
“Sandler? Sandler!” Duke shouted. There was no
reply. Raynor checked his comm and saw that the line

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S103

was still open, the channel active. But no one responded.
“Damn!” He turned to Cavez, about to say something,
when his comm beeped again. It was a different call, and
this time it was one of his own ships.
“Sir, this is Warriton on the Chandler. We’re being
attacked by zerg, sir—-from inside the ship!”
Another call followed right behind it. “Sir, Lieu-
tenant Physon reporting from the Harper. We’ve been
breached! The captain is down, and we’re taking
heavy casualties!”
As a fourth caller, Ragay from Duke’s carrier ship
Trillium, called to report the same conditions, Raynor
finally realized what had happened. The zerg had
taken his shuttles, and probably any Duke had sent
down as well, but not because they needed them for
travel. Travel wasn’t the point. The shuttles gave them
access to ships, which meant the zerg could get inside
easily and then kill everyone onboard. Unlike Terran
boarding parties, the zerg weren’t worried about their
own safety, or about keeping the ship intact—they
would survive even if the ships crashed. Not that the
Swarm cared about losing a few soldiers. It was the
perfect way to bypass all defenses, especially since Ker-
rigan could steal the access codes from the shuttle
pilots’ minds before killing them. She’d invaded
Duke’s ships the same way, using his shuttles or more
of Raynor’s, and had probably reached out mentally to
get the codes from someone on each ship as the shut-
tles were about to dock. Which meant the zerg were
infiltrating each of his and Duke’s ships right now.

104 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Including the Hyperion.
Quickly he punched in the codes for his command
ship.
“Matt!” he shouted as soon as the channel opened.
“Matt, can you read me?”
“Sir?” Horner sounded the same as ever, and Raynor
breathed a sigh of relief. His second wouldn’t sound so
calm if there were fighting taking place onboard.
“Listen, Matt, there’s not much time,” he said
quickly. “The zerg are about to attack. Get everyone
ready. And get people to the lifeboats—you may need
them. I want you to—”
“What do you mean, sir?” Horner interrupted. “We
haven’t seen anything on the scopes except the shut-
tles returning. No sign of zerg at all. But we can talk
about this in person when you get up here.”
“When I—?” Raynor closed his eyes. For once the
dreams did not come. “Matt, where is my shuttle
now?”
“About to dock, sir.” He could hear Horner’s confu-
sion. “But you know that already.”
“No, I don’t,” Raynor explained slowly. “I’m not on
that shuttle. Listen to me, Matt. Lock down the shut-
tle. Seal the shuttle bay, lock it all down, don’t let any-
one in or out.”
“But sir, I—all right.” Though he obviously didn’t
understand, Horner obeyed as always. Raynor heard
the sound of typing, then a small “Hunh.” “That’s
odd,” Horner said finally.
“What? What’s wrong?”

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 105

“There’s an override,” Horner told him, still typing.
“I can’t lock it down. It’s your code, sir. What’s going
on?”
Raynor cursed, wishing there were something he
could do. But there wasn’t. He was trapped here on
Char while the zerg swarmed through his ships, and
now they were about to take the Hyperion as well.
“Can you override the override?” he asked.
“No sir,” came the reply. “That would defeat the
purpose.” Despite the situation Horner chuckled at the
thought, and the sound tore at Raynor. He was just a
kid!
“There’s got to be some way to stop them!” he
demanded. He pictured the Hyperion’s layout and
cursed Mengsk’s ego. Those wide, impressive stairways
didn’t have any doors on them, no way to seal off the
levels. The zerg would have free rein once they exited
the shuttle bay. “Whatever you do, don’t let that shut-
tle dock!”
“Well,” Horner started, then hesitated. Obviously
he’d thought of something but didn’t want to say
what. He still sounded calm, a lot calmer than Raynor,
though from the way his voice rose Raynor could tell
the kid was scared. He had every right to be.
“What, Matt? There’s no time!”
“I could perform an emergency warp-jump,”
Horner explained.
Raynor understood at once. Pilots and navigators
planned warp-jumps very carefully, often for hours
beforehand. That was because a single mistake could

106 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


send a ship millions of light-years off course, turn it
inside out, or worse. Plus the warp engines usually
needed a few hours to warm up. Jumping without
preparation or planning was sheer madness.
“Do it,” he said, pleased to realize he wasn’t even
shouting. “That’s an order, Matt.”
“Yes sir.” He could hear Matt typing furiously and
knew he was entering the commands for the warp-
jump. Raynor keyed in his own personal code to over-
ride the safety measures that would normally stop the
Hyperion from jumping so abruptly. That was all he
could do.
At last he heard a chime in the background, indicat-
ing the ship was ready to move. “Good luck, Matt,” he
whispered.
“Same to you,” Horner replied. “Jim.” And then he
was gone.
Raynor felt a mild surge of relief. At least the Hyper-
ion wouldn’t be overrun. Even if they impacted a star,
or warped through a black hole, it would be better
than being killed by zerg aboard their own ship.
He just wished there were something he could do
for his other ships. The Hyperion was the only one that
had powerful enough engines to tear open a warp that
quickly. None of the others could move that fast, and
with an emergency jump his command ship hadn’t
been able to take any of the others with her. They were
stuck up there, dealing with the zerg, and he was stuck
down here with no way to reach them.
But there was one possibility.

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S107

Raynor quickly keyed his comm unit to a different
frequency. Almost immediately he got another voice.
“Who is this?” someone, a young man, demanded.
“This is Jim Raynor,” he replied. “Get me General
Duke right now.”
Duke’s voice came through a second later. “What
the hell are you playin’ at now, punk?”
Raynor swallowed his irritation. There wasn’t time.
“Listen, Duke,” he said desperately. “I know we don’t
like each other much but I need help.” He ignored the
general’s laugh and plowed on. “My ships are overrun
by zerg,” he explained quickly. “And my shuttles were
all stolen. I need you to send men to clean my ships
out, or at least rescue my people. I know they’re on
your ships too, but you’ve got the firepower to deal
with them. I don’t.”
There was a pause.
“Duke, do you hear me?” Raynor demanded.
“They’re killing everyone on my ships! Your soldiers
are the only ones who can help them now. Please!”
Another brief pause, and then Duke finally replied.
He laughed.
“You want me to save your people?” he said after
his laughter subsided. “You thumb your nose at me,
turn your back on Mengsk and the Dominion, steal
our ships, make me look like a damn fool, and then
you want me to help you? To rescue the same people
who walked out on me at your say-so? Boy, you got
some big brass ones, that’s for sure, but not a lot for
brains.”

108 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“Look, blame me if you want, that’s fine,” Raynor
offered. “Come down here and arrest me, I’ll go qui-
etly. You can try me, execute me, whatever. But don’t
blame my people for this. Don’t kill them for my mis-
takes. Please, Duke, I’m begging you.”
“Well,” Duke said slowly, “that you are. And that’s a
thought that’ll keep me warm on many a cold winter
night.” He chuckled again before his voice turned to
gravel. “But you dug this ditch, boy, and now you’re
lying in it. And all those deaths, they’re on your head.
Hope that helps you sleep at night.” And with that he
broke the connection. A moment later Raynor saw a
dark shadow cross the sky, dwindling as it went, and
he knew the Norad III had left Char and headed back to
the Dominion, at least one of its ships trailing behind
it. Duke had turned tail and fled. Raynor couldn’t
blame him for wanting to steer well clear of the zerg,
especially after those same zerg had taken down at
least one of his own ships from the inside, but he
swore if he survived all this he’d hunt Duke down and
make him pay for leaving his people to die up there.
“What do we do now, sir?” Cavez asked him.
Raynor shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. He glanced skyward
again, squinting to make out the shapes that were his
ships hovering just beyond the atmosphere. He kept
expecting to see them come crashing down, and told
himself that at least there might be some survivors.
He had thought it couldn’t get any worse.
Suddenly a blinding light lanced across the sky, forc-

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S109

ing him to shield his eyes. The light struck one of his
ships and enveloped it, creating a glow that was visible
even amid the sun’s rays. The ship was clearly lit, a
nimbus playing about it, and then that aura collapsed
inward and the ship crumpled like a paper ball. When
the light faded the ship was gone, not even a trace left
behind.
“What?” Raynor gaped at the empty space. One of
his ships had just been destroyed, completely obliter-
ated. What could do something like that?
But he knew the answer immediately: the protoss.
Scanning the sky, he saw one of their lovely, delicate-
looking ships hovering not far from his little fleet. Now
he remembered Matt’s telling him, just before he came
planetside, that a protoss ship was about to exit warp
in their immediate vicinity. Obviously this was that
ship.
But why had it destroyed one of his vessels?
Again the answer came right away: because of the
zerg. The protoss were fanatical about destroying all
zerg and even all traces of their existence. And now
the zerg were on his ships. So the protoss were going to
destroy them there, and his people along with them.
The beam burst forth a second time, illuminating,
enveloping, and then obliterating another of his ships.
Then it struck once more. Raynor’s comm unit pinged
again just as the third ship ceased to exist, and he
glanced down hurriedly. Then he stared. A new dot
had appeared on his screen, which had shifted from
the local grid to a wider planetary one. The new dot

110 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


was right beside one of his ships but was heading
toward Char. A lifepod! Or perhaps one of the other
shuttles! That meant survivors!
His hopes were dashed, however, as the protoss
fired again, this time on the escape vessel. All Raynor
saw with his eyes was the beam itself—as the new dot
vanished from his comm unit.
Other dots appeared, each originating from one of
his ships and heading toward Char’s surface. And each
time the protoss shot it down. One of the shuttles must
have evaded the beam, however, or at least avoided
the full brunt of the weapon—it wobbled on his tiny
screen, clearly damaged but still descending in a long,
loose spiral. Raynor quickly marshaled his troops.
“We got survivors!” he shouted, waving his rifle
over his head. “Let’s go, let’s go!” The soldiers fell in
behind him and began running toward the projected
crash site. Meanwhile Raynor monitored communica-
tions in case anyone made it out alive, or one of his
remaining ships managed to cleanse itself of zerg, or
the protoss contacted him directly about a temporary
cease-fire.
Two other shuttles made it down to Char’s atmos-
phere, taking damage from the protoss but not enough
to disable them. But up above the protoss were
destroying the rest of Raynor’s ships.
“Sir?” It was Leanda Bluth, captain of the Harrison.
“Yes, Leanda?” She was short and rounded and
had bobbed blond hair streaked with brown. She
smoked cigars and drank some horrible homebrew of

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 111

her own invention and cheated outrageously at
poker. He liked her.
“The zerg have overrun the ship, sir. Everything
except the bridge, and they’re at the doors now. I’m
sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be,” Raynor told her gruffly. “You did a good
job, Leanda. Thanks.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Good luck, sir.” Then she
deliberately closed the channel.
A minute later, the protoss beam sliced into the
Harrison. The ship was too large to be enveloped com-
pletely but the beam struck section after section, dis-
integrating whatever it touched. Raynor couldn’t tell
which areas had already been hit and which were
being hit now. He did notice, however, when the
Harrison went off-line. And he watched through the
clouds of ash and smoke as, bit by bit, the ship was
carved into nothingness. Finally the beam vanished,
leaving nothing but a gap in the sky where his ship
had been.
The Harrison had been the last one. All of his ships
were gone now, and all his people save those with him,
the handful on the Hyperion if Matt had kept the ship
intact, and whoever had survived in those downed
escape pods. All those people who had followed him,
believed in him, trusted him. All dead. Dead because of
him.
He shoved the thought from his mind, though he
knew it would haunt him forever after. Time for that
later. Right now he had survivors to find.

112 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G



They reached the closest of the three signals forty
minutes later. It was a shuttle rather than a lifepod,
and they saw the smoke from its damaged engines and
singed fuselage before they spotted the ship itself. The
protoss beam had caught it a glancing blow, incinerat-
ing one wing and ruining most of the engines, but the
pilot had managed to coast the damaged craft down in
one piece. As Raynor and his men topped the rise they
saw that the shuttle had its doors open and that several
people were standing beside it. Despite their small
numbers, the sight lifted his heart, and abandoning all
caution, he ran toward them.
“Sir!” One of the figures stepped forward, left arm
cradled protectively against her body, head bare to let
her long hair drift in the mild breeze, ash giving her a
faint streak across the blond. “Lieutenant Abernathy,
sir, from the Chandler.” Other than the wounded arm,
she looked unharmed.
“Lieutenant, it’s damn good to see you,” Raynor
told her. He did a quick head count. She had twenty-
three people with her, roughly half the shuttle’s capac-
ity. Four of them were civilians but the rest were
soldiers, and fully armed. No one seemed to have suf-
fered anything worse than cuts, scrapes, bruises, or
broken limbs.
“Sir, the Chandler—,” one of the soldiers started to
ask. Raynor just shook his head.
“We’ve got two other escape pods,” he told them. “I
need to round up whoever’s in them.” He beckoned

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 113

Cavez over—he’d discovered during the return trek
through the tunnels that the young trooper was smart,
resourceful, and very reliable. “Cavez, Abernathy,” he
made the quick introductions. “Stay here, patch peo-
ple up as necessary, and inventory anything we can
use.” He selected five troopers at random. “You, you,
you, you, and you. Come with me.” Then he was off
and running again, heading for the second location.
The five troopers kept up easily. Behind him he could
hear Abernathy and Cavez organizing the shuttle and
the remaining soldiers. It would be as good a place as
any to set up camp for the night.
The second craft was also a shuttle, though more
badly damaged—the protoss beam had sheared through
its middle and the ship had broken in two upon enter-
ing the atmosphere. The beacon was in the front half
and from a nearby hill they spotted the back half a
valley away. Four soldiers, including the pilot, had
survived in the front half. No one was alive in the rear
section, though the pilot said he’d had almost the full
forty packed inside it. Bodies were strewn between
the two halves, and Raynor insisted that the soldiers
with him gather the corpses and place all of them in
the shuttle’s front section, which they stripped of its
supplies and other useful bits. One of the four sur-
vivors had a leg injury, and Raynor ordered her to
stay with the others by the wreckage. Then he and
the three healthier soldiers from that shuttle moved
on to the third and final location. He would have liked
to keep everyone together but knew that if anyone

114A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


was alive but injured, time might be of the essence.
This one was a mere escape pod, barely large
enough to house six people. It had apparently evaded
the protoss beam entirely, or perhaps been too small to
be noticed. Unfortunately whoever had piloted the
pod was unskilled and had skimmed it off a nearby
cliff, judging by the scrape across the rocks there and
the matching furrow in the pod’s underbelly. It lay on
its side in a small crater, and Raynor suspected the
crater’s lip was all that had kept the pod from rolling
farther.
For a second Raynor hesitated. None of his ships
had carried escape pods. This had come from one of
Duke’s ships, either the cargo ship or the science ves-
sel. Which meant that anyone within it worked for
the Terran Dominion, and might shoot him on sight.
He considered walking away, but couldn’t bring him-
self to do it. Char wasn’t that friendly a place, at least
not what he’d seen of it so far. He couldn’t leave any
survivors to fend for themselves. Hell, he’d probably
even have offered Duke a chance to join forces. Prob-
ably. Still, he loosened his pistol in its holster, just in
case.
“Hello?” Raynor called as he approached the pod.
Its hatch was partially open, though it looked less like
a deliberate action than a result of the damage it had
sustained. “Anyone in there?”
Listening closely, he thought he heard a faint reply.
“We’re coming in,” he warned in case they were
armed. The hatch was badly crumpled and it took all

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 115

four of them to pry it open enough for entrance.
Finally it yielded to their efforts and peeled back
enough for Raynor to slip through.
The pod’s interior was a mess. Basic supplies were
normally bolted to the walls or held in mesh pouches,
but these had all come loose upon impact and were
scattered everywhere. The pod had six harnesses, all
spaced evenly around the walls, and two of them were
empty. The other three held people, two men and a
woman. One of the men was clearly dead, an emer-
gency prybar embedded in his skull. The woman’s
head hung at a bad angle and as Raynor edged around
he saw that her eyes were open and glazed. The other
man had what looked like a shard from a structural
support piercing his abdomen, but he groaned and
shifted as Raynor’s shadow fell across him.
“Help . . . me,” the man gasped, and Raynor
looked around desperately for the pod’s med-kit.
There! He scooped it up and moved to the injured
man’s side, then opened the kit and began rummag-
ing through it.
“I’ll do what I can,” he said bluntly. He could
already tell from the amount of blood pooled at the
man’s feet that the wound was fatal. But he wasn’t
about to say that. Finding the painkillers, he injected
the man with enough to numb him. “Which ship are
you from?” he asked. He didn’t recognize any of the
people, who were clearly civilians rather than sol-
diers.
“The Amerigo,” the man said softly, his eyes already

116 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


losing focus and his words slurring slightly as the
painkillers did their work. “We got out when that . . .
monster appeared. Had to . . . warn someone.”
“Monster? What do you mean?” Raynor leaned
against the wall beside the man, his pulse quickening.
He suspected the answer but needed to be certain. The
Amerigo had been Duke’s science vessel, he remem-
bered. He’d heard its Mayday.
“Not . . . zerg,” the man explained, shaking his head
and wincing from the motion. “Not one . . . I’d seen
before . . . anyway. Like a woman . . . but one of them.”
Kerrigan! Raynor tried to keep his voice even, know-
ing he shouldn’t excite the man too much but deter-
mined to find out as much as he could.
“She was on the Amerigo, this zerg woman?” The
man nodded, the painkillers now apparently in full
force, because the movement didn’t seem to bother
him. “What was she doing there?” His dream, or
vision, of her had been real! And she’d been on the
Amerigo. Which meant that strange door on the bottom
level had been there as well.
“Searching . . . the files,” the man replied. “Old . . .
logs.”
“Old logs?” Raynor frowned. “She was there for old
travel data?”
Again the man shook his head. “No, not travel.”
He smiled grimly. “Doesn’t . . . matter . . . now. No . . .
secrets . . . left.” He took a deep breath before contin-
uing. Raynor tried to ignore the bubbling sound that
made, or the froth that appeared at the man’s lips. He

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 117

knew this questioning wasn’t helping the man any, but
the guy was already dead. And he needed to know
why Kerrigan had attacked.
“Amerigo . . . was a Terran science vessel,” the man
explained. “Every science vessel . . . had the same
secure room on the bottom level. Files. Ghost Pro-
gram.”
Raynor felt the chill grip him. “Amerigo was part of
the Ghost Program?”
The other man shook his head. “No. We just . . . car-
ried . . . the files. Every science vessel did . . . in case
Ghost . . . operatives needed help or . . . repair.” By the
way he said “repair,” Raynor could tell he didn’t mean
first aid, and he remembered Kerrigan talking bitterly
about the training she’d received as a Ghost, and the
conditioning they’d forced upon her.
“She wanted the files,” he muttered. “That’s why
she attacked.”
“Won’t . . . do her . . . any good,” the man man-
aged, the words creating pink bubbles around his
mouth and his eyes dimming. “All . . . encrypted.” He
coughed up the last word, along with blood, and
gasped, his eyes opening wide. Then a rattle emerged
from his throat and the man went limp.
Raynor climbed back out of the pod, barely aware of
his actions. He told the soldiers to gather anything they
could use and then stood off to one side, waiting as
they searched the tiny vessel. He was too busy think-
ing about what he’d just learned, and what it meant.
Kerrigan had been a Ghost, a telepathic assassin for

118A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


the Confederacy. She and the others had been heavily
conditioned, with strong psychological and chemical
blocks to keep them from misusing their abilities.
She’d told him once that Mengsk had rescued her from
all that and helped remove many of those blocks.
That’s why she’d been so loyal to him.
But some of those blocks had remained. Despite
what he’d seen her do, Kerrigan had not had access to
her full potential.
And those files contained the key to unlocking
them. If a Ghost’s conditioning weakened, the files
would instruct the scientists on how to reinstate them.
But that meant they could also be used to remove the
blocks by working backward.
Now Kerrigan had those files. No wonder she’d tar-
geted the Amerigo personally—as a former Ghost she
knew what it would contain. And she’d used those
memories, and her skills, to gain access to that room.
He had no doubt she’d managed to decrypt the files,
probably pulling the necessary codes from one of the
scientists who hadn’t made it out in time. Now she
would be able to unlock her own mind, destroy any
lingering conditioning, and rid herself of those
restraints. Her full power would be unleashed.
Raynor shuddered. What had the zerg just un-
leashed upon them all?

CHAPTER 8




BY THE TIME RAYNOR LEFT THE LIFEPOD AND ITS
dead trio behind, collected the other survivors from
the second shuttle, and brought everyone he’d found
alive back to the first, Cavez and Abernathy had put
everything there in order and set up a base camp.
They’d erected several large tents to house most of the
men, flanked by smaller tents to handle the runoff.
Operations and mess were set up within the shuttle
itself, making use of its power cells.
“We total fifty-two, sir,” Cavez reported as Raynor
dropped onto the shuttle’s surviving wing, using it as a
makeshift seat. “We have enough rations to last us two
weeks, more if we can find something to supplement
them.” He tactfully didn’t mention that they’d seen
nothing living on Char but zerg, and Raynor didn’t
think they’d get hungry enough to try eating the dis-
gusting aliens. “Plenty of weapons,” Cavez continued,
“and a decent supply of ammo.” He grinned. “We’ve
even got powered armor, twenty-four suits in all—a

120A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


few took damage from the shuttle crashes but we can
probably cobble them back together, or use them for
parts.”
Abernathy took over. “We’re okay where we are,”
she confirmed. “No extra-atmospheric communication,
though. We’ve got the comm units patched through the
shuttle, so we can maintain links among ourselves, but
it doesn’t have enough power to breach atmosphere.”
She shrugged. “The shuttle does have an emergency
beacon, and I’ve activated it—it’s self-contained and can
run continuously for up to three years.” None of them
commented on the notion that they could be trapped
here that long, though Raynor wasn’t really worried
about it. Hell, between starvation and the zerg he could
probably arrange to die sooner and save himself the
awkward waiting. Of course, someone might pick up
the distress call and come rescue them. Even though
they were on the far side of the galaxy, and the only
people who knew they had come out this way were
now dead as well, or hated their guts.
Still, stranger things had happened.
“Good work,” Raynor told the two troopers. “Set
some guys to stand watch and tell the rest to get some
sleep. We’ll sort out what to do in the morning.” He lay
back on the wing and was asleep within seconds.


Their situation didn’t look any better the next
morning. Everyone had needed the sleep—they had
all gone through a rough time the previous day,
whether they’d been underground or up in space—

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S121

and so in that regard they were better. But all those
recent events, so catastrophic and so sudden, seemed
surreal, and yesterday everyone had moved in a daze.
Now, waking up to Char’s cold little sun and the layer
of ash that coated their tents (someone had erected a
small tent over the wing while Raynor slept, for
which he was grateful—it wouldn’t have looked good
if he’d suffocated in his sleep), it was difficult to deny
the reality. They were really stranded here.
“We can repair the shuttle,” one of the troopers,
Deslan, suggested. They were all gathered around a
fire Abernathy had built on the far side of the shuttle,
using its bulk to shield the flames. Despite the constant
volcanic activity it was cold, though Raynor knew it
would warm up and become almost stifling later when
the sun’s rays and the constant flames and steam had
mingled to cook the surface.
“With what?” Raynor asked, sipping from his cup
and grimacing. Instant self-heating, self-rehydrating
coffee did its job, forcing enough caffeine down your
throat that you were awake and alert for hours even if
you normally suffered from narcolepsy, but it tasted
like moldy cardboard reduced to liquid and heated to
somewhere between a boil and the center of the sun.
He took another sip. “We don’t have any spare parts,”
he pointed out. “Sure, we can scavenge a bit from the
other shuttle and the lifepod, but what we need is an
intact engine. Neither of them has one.”
“Even if we did have the parts,” Abernathy added,
“we’d need the tools and facilities to effect repairs.

122A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


That means a full ship’s cradle, a crane, a few arc-
welders, and several other things we don’t have.”
“And what if we did get the shuttle working again?”
Raynor asked them. “It’s only good for short hops, you
know that. The nearest inhabitable planet is—” He
frowned, trying to remember what he’d seen on the
charts coming in.
“—three days’ travel,” Non supplied. He shrugged,
looking slightly embarrassed when several other troop-
ers glanced at him. “I like to know where we are,” he
admitted.
“The protoss are still in orbit,” a man named
McMurty pointed out. “We could repair our communi-
cations system and contact them, ask them for help.”
Raynor laughed. “And you think they’d say, ‘Sure,
want a lift home?’ Not bloody likely. Protoss only care
about one thing, and that’s killing zerg. Either they’d
ignore us or they’d kill us in case we’d been infected.”
He didn’t bother to explain that the protoss had been
the ones destroying their ships. The soldiers from the
Chandler and the Graceful Wing, former home of that
second shuttle, didn’t know anything about that part
of yesterday’s disaster. Raynor had considered telling
them but had decided it wouldn’t do any good. They
didn’t need to know that humanity apparently had a
second enemy to worry about, the very aliens who had
seemed to be allies so recently. Perhaps it was all a mis-
understanding, and if so that might come out later, in
which case telling the others what had happened
would only make it harder to overlook. But if it had

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S123

been a deliberate act against them, it was one more
complication, and telling these soldiers who had really
destroyed their homes and their friends would only
make matters worse.
“So what are we going to do?” Abernathy asked.
Everyone else quieted to hear Raynor’s answer.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I reckon we’re stuck on this
rock for a while. Weeks, most likely. Could be longer
than that, months or even years. We need to make
preparations in case that’s true.” He glanced around.
“We need to explore this planet thoroughly, make sure
there aren’t any dangers besides the ones we already
know. Keep your eyes open for traces of animals,
plants—anything at all. If we’re lucky we’ll find a new
source of food so we can save the rations for emergen-
cies. Clean water would be nice too.” He drained his
cup. “Watch out for zerg. We know a lot of them were
here and belowground. They might still be there, and
we could walk right past a tunnel entrance before real-
izing it was there.” He didn’t say anything about Kerri-
gan—again, his team didn’t need to know about it yet.
Bad enough the planet was infested with zerg; if they
ever found out these zerg were led by a woman, a
Ghost turned zerg assassin, it would almost certainly
create a panic. Raynor needed everyone to stay sharp
and keep hoping, and he wasn’t going to tell them
anything that might distract them from that.
“We’ll start local,” he announced, setting his cup on
the ground, standing up, and stretching. “Grid out our
surroundings, say a distance of ten miles. Cover it care-

124A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


fully, in teams, like we did yesterday. Look for tracks,
tunnels, streams, anything at all. We’re watching for
two things, mainly—dangers and useful items.” He
gestured to Cavez and Abernathy. “You two are my
lieutenants now.” Both nodded, and Cavez puffed
up his chest unconsciously, pleased at the field-
promotion. “Each of you takes half this sorry lot,” he
said, hitching a thumb at the other soldiers, earning a
few chuckles. “Assign sergeants if you want, that’s up
to you. Set a detail to keep this place while the rest of
us search.” He thought about it. “Might want to send a
few back to the other shuttle, too—we cleaned out
what we could but there might be some stuff we
missed.”
“Yessir!” Both of them saluted, and he nodded and
moved away, leaning against the nose of the shuttle
while they selected their teams—he knew from bitter
experience that the worst thing you could do to subor-
dinates was stand over their shoulders while they
talked to their own subordinates. He needed these
troopers to accept Cavez’s and Abernathy’s orders even
when he wasn’t around, and to realize that he trusted
them to make their own decisions. That meant staying
out of their way.
The two had been good choices, and in less than an
hour people were assigned, equipped, and on the
move. Cavez had put Non in powered armor and set
him and five others to watch the camp—he’d deliber-
ately chosen the five most wounded troopers, and
Raynor admired the logic of giving them an important

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S125

task that didn’t require them to move around at all. He
and Abernathy had then split the grid in half, Cavez
taking one side and Abernathy the other. They’d given
each squad a region to cover, and within those squads
the sergeants set men to handle specific quadrants. It
was all very organized. Raynor had slipped through
the cracks, however—he wasn’t in either unit so he
hadn’t been assigned a coordinate or a partner. Per-
haps his lieutenants had assumed he would stay by the
shuttle, but he was too restless to sit still. Instead he
began walking aimlessly, not paying attention to his
direction. Whenever he passed within sight of troopers
he nodded, making it look like he was simply inspect-
ing their progress, but in reality he was just moving to
keep himself from thinking too much about their
predicament.
As he walked, barely registering where he was
going or his surroundings, Raynor let his mind wander
as well. Not surprisingly, it went straight to Kerrigan.
Instead of another dream, however, he flashed back to
the first time they’d met.
It had been on Antiga Prime. He and his men had
just landed there, with orders from Mengsk to take out
the Alpha squadron guarding the colony’s main road.
Mike Liberty had gone with them to help rouse the
people to rebellion, and they were conferring when
she appeared.
She had seemed to appear out of nowhere—they had
been dropped off on a low plateau and there was no
cover anywhere, just flat rock and a strong wind. Yet

126A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


one second they had been alone and the next a woman
was standing beside them. And what a woman!
Kerrigan had been wearing her Ghost armor at the
time, the gleaming, form-fitting suit accentuating her
curves. Her long red hair had floated about her like an
open flame. And Raynor had felt himself drawn to that
flame like the proverbial moth.
Her features were not beautiful—they were too
strong for that. Her eyes were too sharp and too vividly
green, her mouth too wide and full, her nose too long.
Her cheekbones and jaw were strong, proud, and
unrelenting. Yet she was striking, all those features
combining to create a face that fit her perfectly—proud
and strong and utterly captivating. He had wondered
what it would be like to kiss those lips, and what her
body was like beneath that armor.
And she had heard him. She had just begun report-
ing on scouting when her eyes widened and she took a
quick step back. “You pig!” she’d shouted at him.
“What?” he’d protested, though he knew the rea-
son for her outburst and could feel his face turning red.
He’d assumed she’d simply caught him staring. “I
haven’t even said anything to you yet!” he’d defended
himself lamely.
She’d sneered at him then. “Yeah, but you were
thinking it,” she’d snapped, and his embarrassment had
turned to anger. She was a telepath! He’d glared at
Mike, who’d looked guiltily away, confirming his sus-
picions. The reporter had known! And hadn’t told
him! Not that telling him would have changed any-

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S127

thing—he still would have reacted to Kerrigan the
same way. But maybe he could have masked it some-
how if he’d known she might read his mind.
That had been the start of their relationship, such as
it was. He’d been attracted to her, definitely, but her
being a telepath had cooled his lust considerably. He’d
seen too many things, heard too many stories, and
thinking about telepaths brought his own personal
ghosts back to him all too clearly, Johnny and Liddy
looming before him in mute testimony of the damage
being gifted could do to ordinary people. He’d been
short with Kerrigan for a while as a result, and had
been surprised when Mike had stood up for her and
told him to back off. He’d come to like the lanky
reporter, and to trust his instincts, and Mike’s obvious
high opinion of her had probably been the start of his
conversion. Plus, the more he saw of Kerrigan the
more she impressed him, not just physically but men-
tally. She was a tough cookie, that was for sure, but she
was also assertive and independent and brutally hon-
est. Kind of like him. He’d been particularly amused
when she’d flat-out told Mengsk he was crazy, after
the terrorist leader had ordered them to rescue Gen-
eral Duke from the downed Norad II. And look what
had come of that. Still, he—
Raynor’s reverie was interrupted by a shadow. It fell
across him, lengthening until it covered not just his
own shadow but his immediate surroundings, and he
heard a strange, almost musical hum in the air. Not
wasting the time to look up, he dove to the side, rolling

128 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


as he hit the ground, one hand going to his pistol.
Finally he came to a stop, slamming up against a small
spur that was probably a steam vent, and drew his gun,
brushing away the ash he’d acquired in his roll and
squinting toward the source of the shadow.
What he saw took his breath away.
He had seen protoss ships before, over Mar Sara and
Tarsonis. But never in person. And never close enough
to reach out and touch.
His first thought was that it was less a ship than a
sculpture, and a beautiful one at that, all golden swirls
and loops and stylized barbs. Next he thought of a
moth or a butterfly, with long graceful wings hovering
above a short, stubby body—but he quickly corrected
that thought, because this was more like a hornet than
a moth, its wings more angled, its body segmented and
streamlined. Everything about it spoke of style and
grace and speed. The hum he’d heard must have been
its engines, he thought as the ship settled lightly to the
ground mere feet from him, lightning playing about it
and concentrated at the rear and along the base and
the wings. Then the lightning dwindled, becoming
infrequent flashes of light rather than a continuous
arcing display, and the hum faded. The ship was pow-
ering down.
Raynor righted himself, wincing at the bruise his
backside had taken from that spur, and clambered to
his feet, pistol still in his hand. As he watched, a sweep
of the ship unfurled, swinging out and down, reveal-
ing an oblong portal along one side and creating a gen-

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S129

tle slope from that point to the ground. The portal
irised open and a figure appeared, silhouetted against
the glow from within the ship. Then the figure stalked
slowly down the walkway, followed by another, and
another.
The protoss had landed.
The first dozen to disembark were clearly warriors,
wearing something that Raynor guessed was combat
armor but which resembled his own armor the same
way a classic painting resembled a crude sketch. The
protoss were towering figures, easily seven feet tall,
and in their armor they resembled great deadly insects,
their bodies protected by shiny segmented shells
whose pieces overlapped perfectly but slid about easily,
allowing both flexibility and protection. Portions of the
armor swept up from the chest, high over the flared
shoulder-pieces and down to the back, resembling
stylized wings. A gleaming light was embedded at the
center of their chest, just below those arcs, and Raynor
couldn’t tell if the light was functional, decorative, or
both. The protoss wore no helmets, their armor ending
in a high collar that protected the neck alongside and
in back but left the throat bare for full movement, and
their long, peaked heads peered out from the welter of
protective metal, glowing yellow orbs staring out from
an almost featureless expanse of tough gray hide. They
had no mouths and no noses, and Raynor wondered
idly how they breathed—or talked. He didn’t see any
rifles or blasters, but each warrior’s forearms were cov-
ered in unusually thick bracers, the armor flaring out

130A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


over the wrist instead of sloping back from the hand.
On the back of each bracer was a raised unit topped
with a glowing dome, and he suspected they had inte-
gral blasters there.
The warriors spread out in a semicircle around the
gangplank, and then a final figure appeared at the por-
tal and began his descent. If the others were soldiers
this was definitely their commander. His armor was at
once more spare and more elaborate than theirs, the
bracers smaller and more elegant and lacking the bulge
Raynor took for weaponry, the shoulder-pieces wider,
the breastplate replaced with a heavy collar, a pair of
thick crisscrossed straps with a gleaming gem set
where they intersected, and a wide segmented belt.
The pieces gleamed platinum rather than bronze and
were suffused with a faint golden glow. Over his shoul-
ders and around his waist he wore long strips of fabric
that created the sense of a loose open robe and a sym-
bolic loincloth. They were made from some shimmer-
ing fabric, dark blue but with highlights that shifted
from blue to gold to green as it caught the light. The
commander’s eyes glowed blue, a vivid blue like a
strong flame, and Raynor found his own eyes turning
again and again to that electric gaze.
As the leader reached the ground and his armored
boots settled into the ash, barely raising a puff of
white, Raynor recognized him. He had seen this pro-
toss once before, on the screens of the Hyperion. They
had been on Antiga Prime and the protoss had
acknowledged their presence before descending to

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 131

cleanse the planet. This was the Executor Tassadar, the
High Templar, one of the protoss high commanders.
Knowing his name and knowing they had met
before, even at a distance, made everything worse.
This same alien, the very one who had destroyed his
ships and killed his people mere days ago, had called
those people allies only a few months before! Raynor’s
rage bubbled up within him and he had a sudden urge
to charge forward and confront the protoss Executor.
His legs refused to cooperate, however.
He had seen the protoss leader before, it was true.
And he had spotted protoss—what they called Zealots,
warriors—on Tarsonis as well. But only from a dis-
tance, and only in the heat of battle. He’d been busy
then, distracted, unable to fully register their presence.
He had no such blinders now, and staring at the tall,
proud, graceful aliens arrayed before him, Raynor felt
something he wasn’t sure he’d really experienced
before.
Awe.
The zerg were horrifying, terrible, enough to make
even the bravest man quake with fear. But this was
different. It was more than that, and less at the same
time. He wasn’t afraid of the protoss, or at least that
wasn’t all of it. He was afraid, but only because they
were so much more than him. Raynor had learned
confidence the hard way, by being forced to rely on
himself and his own abilities to stay alive. He knew he
was a capable fighter, a good tracker, a decent com-
mander. He knew he could take most men in a fair

132A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


fight. But facing these aliens he felt like a little boy
again, clinging to his mother’s skirts. For the first time
he understood, really understood deep in his bones,
that these were aliens, beings from another planet,
another race, another culture. And that they were
ancient compared to him. Humanity was a mere child
beside the protoss, and not a particularly promising
one at that.
As he stood there, fighting the desire to run away or
duck and hide, Raynor saw the Executor’s head swivel
about, those glowing blue eyes searching for some-
thing. Then their gaze settled upon him, and he knew
how a moth felt when it was pinned to a display by
razor-sharp pins. Tassadar’s gaze pierced him, rooting
him to the ground, and baring his very soul.
“Come.”
That was all the Executor said, but the word
resounded through Raynor’s head despite the distance
between them. They don’t talk, he realized abruptly.
Not out loud. The protoss spoke mind-to-mind instead,
and just now their commander had spoken to him. His
voice was deep and soft and rolled over Raynor. If the
zerg sounded like metal grating upon itself, or insects
buzzing in rage, the protoss sounded like ocean waves
or the rumble of thunder in the distance.
Raynor felt his right foot lift off the ground and his
body shift forward to complete the step. The left fol-
lowed. He had no control over his limbs, but obeyed
the protoss’s command like a sleepwalker, trapped
within his own flesh. The protoss warriors stepped

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 133

aside without a sound and he continued forward until
he was inches from the Executor, staring up at him.
Behind them the portal slid shut and the walkway
coiled back upward, sealing the ship, but Raynor didn’t
care. His attention was locked on the towering, capti-
vating figure standing before him.
Those blue eyes had never left him, maintaining
their intense gaze, and now the Executor tipped his
head to one side to better consider this strange guest.
“James Raynor,” the protoss acknowledged. “You were
allied with Arcturus Mengsk during our prior encoun-
ters.” Tassadar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You are no
longer an associate of his?”
Raynor remembered, then, one of the other reasons
he had walked out on Mengsk. On Tarsonis the protoss
had landed ground forces, warriors much like these,
and had fought the zerg hand-to-hand. And between
them and the Terran forces they had been winning.
The zerg were being driven back.
But that wasn’t what Mengsk wanted. He wanted
the Confederacy’s Capital World to fall so that he could
sweep in and create a new order, his Terran Dominion.
The protoss were jeopardizing that plan, risking his
revenge and his ambition. He couldn’t allow that.
So he’d ordered his men to attack the protoss.
Raynor had refused. The protoss were their allies
against the zerg! Raynor wasn’t going to fight them,
especially when the protoss had never attacked them
directly. They had targeted Terran colonies only after
the zerg had already corrupted them.

134 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“No,” he managed, dragging the word from deep
within. The Executor’s brow lifted slightly, and sud-
denly Raynor found he could move again. His words
came more freely. “I don’t work for him anymore,”
Raynor admitted. “I left after Tarsonis, after he turned
on you. That wasn’t right.”
The Executor nodded, a mere dip of his long,
tapered chin, but to Raynor it felt like a benediction,
and a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t
even realized how bad he had felt about that betrayal
all these months, on the guilty thought that somehow
he should have stopped it.
“You feel anger, and loss,” the protoss leader
commented then, and the sudden remark drove
Raynor’s mind back to the rage he had felt so
recently. Rage directed at Tassadar himself. This time
the protoss had turned on him, destroying his ships!
He couldn’t bring himself to voice the accusations,
but apparently that wasn’t necessary. The Executor
heard them anyway, and looked away as if embar-
rassed.
“The Terran ships orbiting this world were yours?”
Raynor nodded angrily, and Tassadar nodded in
return, still not meeting his eyes. “Yes, they were
destroyed by our hand,” he confirmed.
Raynor couldn’t hear a single trace of guilt in the
alien’s voice. “Those were my people up there!” he
meant to shout, but the words come out in a whisper
instead. “You killed them.”
“Their deaths were caused by the zerg,” Tassadar

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S135

countered, his gaze swiveling toward Raynor again.
“Your ships had become infested by the Swarm. We
were forced to take action.” His mental voice was calm,
patient, that of a parent soothing an upset child.
Raynor resented being patronized, but couldn’t shake
the sense that, for once, perhaps it was deserved.
“The zerg invaded, yeah,” he agreed. “But my peo-
ple were fighting them! We could have rescued them!
Instead you killed them all, and stranded us here!”
Tassadar stared down at him, those glowing blue
orbs not angry but understanding, their light bathing
Raynor in a sense of profound compassion. He knew
that the Executor understood his frustration, his grief,
and that he sympathized with him, and somehow that
sympathy eased his pain. “Such was not our intent,”
the Executor told Raynor gently. “Yet your ships were
lost to you. The zerg had overrun them. We detected
little human life left on those vessels.” His eyes nar-
rowed, though not at Raynor. “Better it is to die a
clean death, a warrior’s death, than to become one
with the zerg, as your people would have had they
been allowed to continue.”
Raynor shuddered, thinking of Kerrigan. Could
they have done that to his remaining crew? Yes, that
was the zerg way—they absorbed their fallen foes into
the Swarm. So perhaps the protoss had saved his peo-
ple from a fate worse than death.
“But you didn’t have to destroy the ships,” he man-
aged, though much of his anger had faded in the face
of the Executor’s logic. “Now we’re stuck on this rock.”

136 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Tassadar nodded. “Such was not our intent,” he said
again. Then, apparently judging the conversation over,
he turned to his warriors, who had waited unmoving
during the discussion. “Seek out the Queen of Blades,”
he instructed them.
“You know about Kerrigan?” Raynor was amazed.
“Her screams echoed across the void,” the Execu-
tor replied, “the clarion of a new terror birthed upon
the cosmos.” Raynor thought he heard a hint of awe
and perhaps even fear in the alien’s voice. “Her mind
is powerful, even now, and the danger she presents
cannot be overestimated.” He glanced at Raynor
again. “I must ascertain her strength.” His voice hard-
ened somehow, the thunder behind it increasing.
“She shall not threaten my people while I stand.”
With that he turned back to his warriors. “Seek her
out,” he repeated, “and her forces. Do not oppose
them directly, however. Merely find her and instruct
me as to her location.” Raynor was surprised that he
could “hear,” much less understand, Tassader’s order,
and realized a second later that the Executor had
deliberately included him. In fact, the protoss leader
had apparently done more than that, and Raynor
found he could understand the protoss mental lan-
guage as if he had been born to it. Right now, how-
ever, his mind was on something else.
“You’re not gonna fight her?” he demanded, his
surprise overwhelming his hesitance to speak so
abruptly to the towering alien. “You just said she’s a
threat—a terror!” And, thinking back on what he’d

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 137

seen her do since her transformation, and what he’d
learned from that dying scientist, he had to agree.
“She poses a significant danger,” Tassadar confirmed.
“I must watch her carefully, that I might understand her
capabilities.”
“I can tell you her capabilities,” Raynor muttered.
“She’s Hell unleashed.”

CHAPTER 9




THE PROTOSS SCATTERED, EACH MOVING OFF IN
a different direction. Tassadar, however, waited by his
ship, standing as still as a statue. Though Raynor was
right in front of the alien, he could tell the Executor
no longer registered his presence.
One part of Raynor hoped the protoss got their butts
kicked by Kerrigan and her brood. It would serve them
right, the arrogant bastards. But that was only a small
portion of his mind, the jealous, illogical part he tried
to keep locked away. The rest of him knew it was in his
own best interests for Tassadar to find and destroy Ker-
rigan once and for all.
Meanwhile, he had another concern. The protoss
were wandering around Char, and so were his own
people. He didn’t want them mixing it up, especially
when the protoss might still be their allies. Tassadar’s
explanation had made sense to him and he was no
longer angry at the Executor for destroying his ships.
Upset about the loss of them and his people, sure, and

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S139

still mad, but now he was just mad at the zerg for forc-
ing such a drastic response. In the protoss’s place he
would have done the same thing, and he knew it,
especially since the Executor had told him there were
few signs of human life left on the ships, and the alien
had no reason to lie to him.
Walking away from the protoss ship and resisting
the urge to glance back repeatedly to make sure the
towering Templar wasn’t sneaking up behind him,
Raynor topped a small rise. He hadn’t realized he’d
walked quite so far, but from here he could see the sec-
ond shuttle, and that gave him an idea of their camp’s
location. Quickly he raised his comm unit and set it to
broadcast on the all-purpose frequency Cavez and
Abernathy had selected.
“All units,” he said into the comm, “all units, this is
Raynor. The protoss have landed on Char. I repeat,
we’ve got protoss here on Char. They’re wandering on
foot but they’re after zerg, not us. Don’t shoot at them.
Repeat, don’t shoot at them!”
Almost immediately his comm chimed with an
incoming signal. “This is Ling,” one of Cavez’s sergeants
reported. “We just spotted one of them, maybe half a
mile away. Look like walking ants! He saw us but kept
moving.”
“Good,” Raynor replied. “Leave ’em alone and they’ll
leave us alone.”
Several other troopers called in to report protoss
sightings, but the protoss did not attack them and the
two forces slid past each other without incident.

140 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


McMurty, who had been over at the second shuttle,
actually came out of the back half to find himself face-
to-face with one of the protoss warriors, but said that
after they stared at each other for a minute the warrior
simply nodded and moved around him. “Nearly wet
myself,” the trooper added, laughing at his own fear,
“but he couldn’t’ve cared less!”
Raynor debated what to do next. His men were han-
dling themselves fine and the scouting was continuing.
Already one team reported a small stream and another
had found a stagnant pond, which would be fine once
they’d boiled the water or used detox pills from the
shuttle’s supply. Another team had discovered a cluster
of large flat mushrooms around one crater and others
were looking in similar places for more—there was no
guarantee they were edible but it was the first plant life
they’d found and it was certainly worth experimenting.
Deslan claimed he’d seen something small and rodent-
like darting into a vent as he approached—he hadn’t
been able to catch it, but if he hadn’t been seeing things
it meant there were at least small mammals here, and
they could hunt them for meat.
No one had found any sign of the zerg, however. Had
the monsters vanished somehow? Raynor doubted
that—he knew they were capable of going off-planet
without ships but assumed it would require massive
energy. Something like that wouldn’t be subtle and
they’d have seen signs. So would the protoss, and Tas-
sadar was still doing his impression of a boulder. No, the
zerg were here somewhere. Most likely back under-

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 141

ground. Then Raynor remembered he had a way to
check. Taking one last quick look at the motionless Tem-
plar, he sat down and closed his eyes.
And nothing happened except that the world went
dark.
Opening his eyes again, he frowned. Ever since
they’d landed he’d had trouble keeping the visions
away. But now that he wanted them they were gone?
What gives? He tried again, squeezing his eyes tight
and concentrating on Kerrigan.
And then he saw her.
But not Kerrigan as she was now, not the mesmer-
izing, terrifying Queen of Blades. No, the Sarah Kerri-
gan that appeared before him was the one he had
known on Antiga Prime and several other planets
since then, the same Kerrigan he’d talked to shortly
before they’d all landed on Tarsonis during that last
fateful mission. It was Kerrigan fully human.
She wasn’t wearing armor, a rarity for her. Instead
she was decked out in worn cotton pants, a soft work
shirt, high leather boots, and a dusty leather jacket.
Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, strands of
it escaping to frame her face, and other than the long
knife strapped provocatively to one thigh she was
unarmed.
And she was smiling.
Not her usual smile, either, which spoke of pain and
towering self-control. No, this was a look he’d seen on
her face only a few times, when he or Mike had man-
aged to startle her into laughter. It was an unfeigned

142A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


smile of genuine pleasure, causing crinkles around her
eyes and a faint dimple in one cheek.
She was happy.
Raynor forced his eyes open again, dispelling the
image. He leaned forward, arms across his legs, and
took a deep breath, vaguely thankful for the
rebreather that kept his lungs from filling with ash.
He tried not to gulp air, knowing that would only
make him feel worse, but he needed to slow his racing
heart. What had that been? It wasn’t a vision, a peek
into Kerrigan’s head as he’d been expecting. And it
wasn’t a memory—he’d never seen her wearing those
clothes before. Was it simply a dream? It was certainly
Kerrigan the way he’d always hoped to see her, with-
out her constant defensiveness. But he hadn’t really
been asleep and it had been far too vivid to have been
just a daydream.
Lifting his head, he glanced down the hill toward
the protoss ship—and leaped to his feet, waving his
hands to block the inevitable flurry of ash. Tassadar
was gone! Looking around, Raynor spotted the Execu-
tor stalking to the top of another hill nearby, heading
away from him. Without stopping to think about it, he
ran after the alien.
Tassadar had long, quick strides, but he didn’t seem
to be in much of a hurry and Raynor closed the dis-
tance between them rapidly. He slowed when he was
still about twenty feet away, then fell in behind the
Executor. They must have spotted Kerrigan, he real-
ized. Tassadar had told his warriors to inform him of

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 143

her location. He must be going to confront her now.
Raynor knew he had to go along. Not to lend sup-
port—he suspected even the lesser protoss warriors
were far more capable than he was at combat, and
their race had years of experience against the zerg. No,
he was going to watch. He wanted to see what hap-
pened when these two, Kerrigan and Tassadar, met
face-to-face. It might tell him more about both of
them, about their strengths and weaknesses. And it
promised to be a matchup he didn’t want to miss.
As they walked, Tassadar giving no indication that
he had even noticed Raynor behind him, Raynor
thought about the situation once more, and about his
options. The protoss had landed and had been if not
friendly, at least not hostile. That was a good sign and
took one weight off his mind—he had only one enemy
here on Char, not two. And the Executor had not
intended to strand Raynor and his men on this world.
Would the protoss actually consider helping them get
off-planet, then? He’d thought the idea ridiculous
when McMurty had suggested it, but now it didn’t
sound quite so preposterous. It would be worth asking,
at least—he knew now that the protoss wouldn’t kill
him for daring to speak to them, so he really didn’t
have anything to lose.
He started to say something about it, then stopped.
Better to wait until after the upcoming encounter, he
decided. Besides, the protoss might not be in any posi-
tion to aid them once they’d met Kerrigan. He won-
dered if he could figure out how to operate their ship.

144 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Even if the protoss wouldn’t give them a lift, their
situation was looking up. They’d found some water
and possibly some food, so survival here wouldn’t be
as awful as it might have been. And perhaps the pro-
toss would at least carry a message for them, a distress
call. Who would he send it to, though? They had left a
handful of people behind before coming to Char—per-
haps they would be willing and able to bring a ship and
pick them up. Or perhaps one of the worlds nearby
could mount a rescue mission. There were only fifty of
them—a single small spaceship would be large enough
to hold them all.
He considered the notion of contacting Mengsk
directly. Yes, the emperor had named him a criminal.
Would he send someone here to arrest him? Raynor
had offered that solution to Duke and the sadist had
laughed and left him here. But Mengsk would see the
political value of capturing and trying Raynor. It would
make him look strong and capable, and show what
happened to those who opposed him. He might even
order Duke back here, and the general couldn’t refuse
a direct order. The notion tickled Raynor. Sure, it
would mean his death, but Mengsk might be willing to
pardon the rest of his team if they swore not to oppose
him again. That was worth something.
They had crossed several hills now, and walked
through several small valleys. Raynor could feel an
ache in his legs, and his feet were throbbing in his
boots. He’d already drained what little water he’d had
left in his canteen, and eaten the one ration he’d still

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S145

had in his belt pouch, and his throat was dry, and his
stomach was gnawing at him. But Tassadar showed no
sign of weariness or discomfort and Raynor was forced
to keep going as well.
Just how far were they going? Where was Kerrigan?
More than an hour, later Tassadar stopped abruptly.
Raynor stumbled to a halt behind him and collapsed
on the ground, not caring if the Executor moved on
without him. He had to rest!
They were at the base of another hill, this one taller
and steeper than most, and as Raynor studied it he
realized the difference. The slope was not only steep
but oddly textured, clearly rock but lumpy rather than
smooth or faceted. The hill also curved around on both
sides, and it was a more regular sweep than that of
most mounds or protrusions. The final clue was a
clump of mushrooms at the hill’s base, not five feet
from where Raynor had dropped. Each mushroom
was easily a foot in diameter, with a wide flat head and
a short stubby stalk, and they were brown and gray
and speckled with white that matched the ever-
present ash.
This was no hill. It was a crater. One of the largest
he’d seen so far. And judging from the way Tassadar was
looking toward the upper lip, Kerrigan was inside it.
It made sense, Raynor admitted as he leaned back.
The zerg favored the underground, and a volcano would
provide ready access from the surface world to the
caverns beneath. He rested his head against the slope
behind him and closed his eyes, just for a second—

146A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


—and he was inside the volcano, standing on the
shallow bowl-shaped floor, admiring the dark glassy
sides that rose around them. The rest of his brood clus-
tered around him, and his wing-tips fluttered in antic-
ipation.
He was inside Kerrigan’s head again. And like her
he was suddenly awash with excitement.
“Do you feel that, Cerebrate?” he heard Kerrigan
asking the massive zerg through its overlord, which
hovered slightly behind her. “The protoss are here, on
Char. . . .” She paused, and Raynor had an odd swoop-
ing sensation, as if he had been flung across the room
or been caught up by a strong wind. He knew Kerrigan
had used her telepathy; he had felt it through their
connection. “They have been here for some time,” she
announced, sampling the mental landscape as a dog
would sample the air with its nose, tasting for scents
and reading the information they carried. “Hiding,”
she finished gleefully.
“We must destroy them,” the cerebrate suggested,
though it did so diffidently. Clearly it had learned from
watching her confrontation with Zasz. That had been
Kerrigan against a named cerebrate, one of the Over-
mind’s elect, whereas it was still nameless and unim-
portant. It had to be careful to avoid inciting her wrath.
“The protoss are our ancient foe,” it pointed out.
“Yes, yes,” Kerrigan agreed impatiently, her wings
clacking together. “We will destroy them, never fear.
But first I want to know why they are here.” She
smiled. “And that is easy to discover, as they are wait-

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 147

ing just over the rise.” She took to the air, leaping up to
the crater’s lip, her wings spreading out behind her as
if they could hold her aloft. From there she could see
protoss ringing the crater, one of them possessing the
golden glow that marked a full Templar. It was toward
that figure that she jumped, landing lightly perhaps
twenty feet from him and furling her wings around
her like a barbed cloak. Behind the Executor and far-
ther down the slope she saw a figure hunched on the
ground, this one not wearing the protoss’s glittering
armor but ash-smeared fatigues and a worn leather
jacket. A rebreather covered his face, but she recog-
nized him nonetheless, and her smile grew at the
thought of such an audience.
“Jim,” she called softly, and Raynor heard her voice
both in and out of his head. “Wake up.”
And his eyes leaped open.


Kerrigan was standing before him, just as he’d seen
in his vision. Her attention was fixed on the majestic
protoss before her, but Raynor thought he saw her
direct a quick glance his way—and wink. Then she
was focused upon Tassadar again.
“Protoss commander,” she called to him, her voice
ringing across the landscape and causing Raynor’s
teeth to ache from the echo. “It was folly of you to
come here.” She stood proud and tall, not caring that
her zerg were still climbing the crater’s inner walls and
had not yet topped the rise. Nor did she seem to care
that the other protoss warriors were moving in from

148 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


either side of the hill, massing behind Tassadar and
behind her. Instead her wings unfurled, sweeping out
behind her like a cloak, and she lifted her chin. “For I
am Kerrigan,” she announced, “and—”
“I know of you well, o Queen of the Zerg,” Tassadar
replied, cutting her off, “for we have met before.” He
executed a stately bow, bending at the waist until his
torso was almost parallel to the ground, though his eyes
never left hers. “I am Tassadar of the Templar,” he
informed her, humbly omitting his full title, his words
rolling across them and enveloping Raynor in a tide of
deep echoing warmth. Kerrigan smiled slightly, though
whether she was acknowledging his introduction or
showing that she had felt his vocal effects Raynor had
no idea. “I remember your selfless exploits, defending
humanity from the zerg,” the Executor continued.
“Unfortunate it is, to see that one who was once so hon-
orable and full of life would succumb to the twisted
wiles of the Overmind.” To Raynor the alien sounded
genuinely disappointed, as if Kerrigan had failed him
personally and that failure was a great loss.
Kerrigan did not appreciate the sentiment. “Do not
presume to judge me, Templar,” she snapped, her
wings rearing up and back, their tips jabbing toward
him. “You’ll find my powers to be more than a match
for yours.” She smiled again, though this was the
humorless smile of a predator. “In fact,” she said
softly, her words driving ash before her as if they were
carried on a strong wind, “I sense that your vaunted
power has diminished since last we met. . . .”

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 149

Raynor wasn’t sure what happened next. He saw
Kerrigan leap forward, wings outstretched, claws ex-
tended, to swipe at Tassadar. But the Executor shifted to
one side, sidestepping her attack. At the same time his
forearms, now encased in a soft blue glow, rose and
knocked her wings aside so that she slid past him with-
out even grazing him.
That was what Raynor saw. Or thought he saw.
Because both Templar and zerg were fuzzy around the
edges, as if viewed through thick glass. Their bodies
glowed faintly, his blue and hers a yellowish green,
and they left strange afterimages as they moved.
Raynor blinked and looked again. Tassadar and Ker-
rigan were still standing as before, and a part of him
knew they had not moved at all. But he was sure the
attack he’d witnessed had just happened.
Now the Executor nodded slightly, as if acknowl-
edging Kerrigan’s statement. Or perhaps this was its
response to her attack. “Mayhap, o Queen,” he
intoned. There was a trace of something in his voice,
something that sounded suspiciously like humor. “Or,”
he continued, “is it only that I need not flaunt my
power in such an infantile test of will?”
As the words left his lips Tassadar did the last thing
Raynor would have expected—he ran. The Executor
turned on his heel and did a graceful sideways leap,
spinning down the hill in a smooth cartwheel motion
and landing erect a good hundred feet from the base of
the hill. The other protoss had apparently responded to
some silent command because during the exchange

150A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


they had crept silently down the hill as well, and now
they were all grouped around their High Templar
leader. Without another word Tassadar turned and led
his Zealots at a full run around the hill and into the
higher mountains that loomed beyond. The protoss
moved so quickly that Raynor barely had time to reg-
ister their departure before they had vanished from
view.
Kerrigan watched them go, her wings twitching
with rage. Her zerg had finally crested the lip and now
surrounded her, though they kept a respectful distance
from their enraged queen. Despite himself, Raynor
couldn’t help admiring her. She was magnificent.
“Foolish Templar,” Kerrigan whispered, her words
carrying easily to Raynor on the still air. “Prepare your
defenses! I will come for you soon.”
“Seek out the cowardly protoss,” she instructed her
brood. “Slaughter them all, but leave the High Tem-
plar, the so-called Executor, to me. Now go!” Her
wings flared and the zerg fled, racing down the hillside
and following the same path the protoss had taken.
Only one overlord remained, fluttering slightly before
her, and Raynor realized it was not one of hers.
“Kerrigan,” the overlord said, and Raynor recog-
nized the voice as that of Zasz the cerebrate, “I sense
something strange about this Templar. Perhaps you
should reconsider your attack.”
She turned on the overlord, her wings snapping up
to pierce its side and then slicing down and back to
carve it open. “For the last time, Zasz,” she hissed as

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S151

the dying zerg fell to the ground at her feet, spraying
ichor everywhere, “you question my motives and
authority at your own peril.”
“You dare threaten a cerebrate?” Zasz gasped,
though his voice was fading as his emissary died. “You
will be the doom of us all,” he warned. Then the over-
lord shuddered and went still, the ichor that flowed
from its wounds slowing to a trickle.
“My doom,” Kerrigan told the unhearing zerg, “is a
thing not of your making, and far beyond your
power.” Then she stalked past it, down the hill. As she
came to Raynor she glanced at him, but this time she
did not wink and her eyes, looking much like the vivid
green he remembered, contained such sadness it took
his breath away. The look vanished quickly, and she
gave no other sign that she had seen him.
This time that was definitely a relief, he thought as
he watched her go. He had seen Kerrigan angry before,
of course, and it had always impressed him as the
human equivalent of a tornado, violent and unpre-
dictable and incredibly destructive. Now she was even
worse, and he suspected her emotions were more
unbalanced as well. Becoming zerg had reduced her
self-control but increased her power, a dangerous
combination. He was glad it was Tassadar and not him
on the receiving end of her fury.
He understood the Executor’s actions now as well.
Tassadar was clearly a wise commander and had told
Raynor he wanted to see Kerrigan’s abilities for him-
self to determine whether she was a real threat. The

152 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Executor knew that the best way to do that was to pro-
voke her. But she had a lot more zerg than he had pro-
toss, and in a fair fight they’d simply swarm him under.
So he’d egged her on, ticked her off, and then run
away. Making her chase him. Smart. This way Kerri-
gan was in hot pursuit and Tassadar could pick the bat-
tlefields. He’d probably stop a few times, let her get
close, and see how she reacted, then take off again
before her full brood could assemble and overwhelm
him. It was a good tactic, the type of thing Mengsk
might have done, though there wasn’t anything
underhanded about it, just a sensible approach to a
new enemy of unknown capabilities.
“Well,” Raynor muttered to himself as he stood up
and dusted himself off, “I suppose I can’t sit around
here all day.” Picking a few of the mushrooms to bring
back, he headed off toward his base, though he
glanced over his shoulder once in the direction both
Tassadar and Kerrigan had taken. He wished he could
follow them to see the outcome of this battle. No mat-
ter who won it was sure to be an impressive sight, and
he hated to miss it.

CHAPTER 10




“WE’RE NOT IN BAD SHAPE, SIR,” ABERNATHY
reported the day after Raynor’s first encounter with
Tassadar. She and Cavez were meeting with Raynor
inside the shuttle to discuss their situation. “We have
several sources of water now—none of it particularly
pure but all drinkable. The mushrooms are safe to eat
and we’ve confirmed the presence of rodents and
other small critters. We’re rigging traps for them now.
Hopefully we’ll have fresh meat within a few days.”
“That’s good—too many of these rations and your
stomach starts hankering for your boots,” Raynor
joked. “Did we manage to get anything else from the
other shuttle or the lifepod?” He’d finally told his lieu-
tenants about the lifepod, and they’d sent a team to
examine it and to bury the bodies.
“Not much,” Abernathy admitted. “A few more
rations, an extra blanket, and one more pack of detox
pills.” She shrugged. “We pulled every part that looked

154A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


intact, too, but the biggest thing we need to fix is the
engines, and those weren’t any better than these.”
“Yeah. Well, we’ll figure something out.” He turned
to Cavez. “That’s the useful items—how about the
dangers?”
The trooper shrugged. “Not much here, actually.
Zerg, of course, though they haven’t bothered us
yet—we think the protoss are keeping them busy.”
That they were, and Raynor had already told his lieu-
tenants a little about that. “No other large animals or
even insects, and the small ones we’ve seen don’t
look poisonous. We do have to watch the terrain,” he
warned. “One of my men got scalded from stepping
too close to one of those damn steam vents and Ling
almost fell into a small crater—he caught himself just
in time but his helmet came off.” Cavez looked grim.
“That crater was still hot. Cooked the helmet to slag in
an instant. We’ve marked it so we don’t step there by
mistake, but any crater could still be live.”
“Can’t we just avoid the ones that’re smoking and
coughing up lava?” Raynor asked.
Cavez shook his head. “It’s not that simple. Most
of these things are dormant—they’re not spitting
anything up anymore. But they’re still hot. The prob-
lem is, when the lava sits for a while it apparently
develops a thin skin over it, just like soup does. And
the ash settles on that skin, blending it with the rest
of the landscape. So it looks just like the ground
everywhere else, but it’s actually lava right under the
surface.”

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 155

Raynor thought about it. “Don’t we have infrared
goggles? We can use those to check for hot spots.”
His lieutenants looked a little embarrassed. “Yes,
sir,” Cavez replied. “We’ve already got men doing that.
But it’ll take a while to mark all the spots nearby, let
alone all the ones within that ten-mile radius.”
“Oh, right.” Raynor felt stupid, and laughed at him-
self. “Guess that’s what I get for thinking I’d turned
clever,” he admitted ruefully. “Okay, so we got zerg
and we got steam and we got lava. Anything else try-
ing to get us?”
Both lieutenants shook their heads. “There might
be unstable rock formations in the mountains,” Aber-
nathy pointed out, “but we aren’t going there at the
moment so it’s not an issue.”
“Okay.” Raynor scrubbed a hand over his face and
then through his hair. “Well, looking around kept
everyone busy for a day. What’re we gonna do tomor-
row?” He looked to his two lieutenants for suggestions.
“We can take apart the shuttle systems,” Abernathy
pointed out. “Put every man with electronics know-
how on shuttle detail, try to figure out what’s been
broken and what we can do to replace it.”
Raynor nodded. “That’s good. But we can probably
only get a few people working on this crate at a time.
Say five at once?” The other two nodded. “Okay, put
together three teams of five and get them on this.
Rotate them around. What else?”
“We’re setting traps,” Cavez reminded him. “For
food.”

156A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“Right, right.” He shrugged. “How many know how
to trap and hunt?”
“Only ten of us, sir.” Cavez looked a little embar-
rassed. “I used to hunt with my uncle back home,” he
explained.
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Raynor assured him.
“Did a little of that myself, and I can probably still set a
decent snare.” He thought about it. “Okay, get those
nine on trapping detail. You’re in charge of that.
Maybe we can set up a rotating detail to collect mush-
rooms and water and look for anything else edible.”
“We’ve got ten men checking the craters and mark-
ing the dangerous ones,” Abernathy volunteered,
guessing his next question. He gave her a smile in
return.
“Okay, that’s a start, but let’s put another ten on that
if we’ve got enough IR goggles to go around.” She nod-
ded. “So that’s what? Forty-five out of forty-nine?”
They confirmed his math. “Set the last four to guard
the camp, a roving patrol, and we’re good. That’ll keep
everyone from panicking for another week at least.”
“What about the protoss, sir?” Abernathy asked.
“Shouldn’t we keep an eye on them, especially if
they’re fighting the zerg?”
Raynor grinned at her. “Just leave that to me.”


It took him two days to track the protoss warriors.
They had abandoned their ship where it had landed
and had retreated into the mountains, hiding among
the glittering spires and hollow cones. The mountains

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S157

were more active than the flatlands in terms of volca-
noes, and smoke and ash billowed from several peaks
and leaked from smaller vents throughout the region.
It made for excellent cover and the protoss were put-
ting it to good use, especially since their glossy armor
blended well with the obsidian that littered the area
and their eyes apparently saw through smoke and
soot without a problem.
Raynor had packed a week’s worth of rations and
ventured up among the peaks, determined to locate
and spy on Tassadar and his troops. Cavez and
Abernathy had the camp well in hand and everyone
there had something to keep them busy for the rest of
the week, if not longer. He wasn’t really needed there.
But someone had to keep track of the protoss, and of
their battles with the zerg. It might as well be him.
Besides, he knew both groups’ leaders personally,
which meant he might be able to predict their loca-
tions and activities.
Not that it had worked with Tassadar, at least at first.
The protoss had proven adept at hiding their tracks, or
perhaps simply left no impression in the loose ash of
the mountaintops. He searched for two days, to no
avail. Finally, however, he realized that he was going
about things all wrong.
“Don’t try to find where an animal’s been,” his
grandpa had taught him when he was a youngster just
learning to hunt and shoot. “Find where it needs to go
and wait for it to show.” That was what he should be
doing here. The mountains were large enough that he

158 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


could wander for weeks and never come across a sin-
gle protoss. And the aliens had no mouths, which
meant he had to assume they didn’t eat or drink. So
watering holes were out. But they were up here scout-
ing and spying, and that meant finding good vantage
points. The mountains had a lot of sharp spires of nar-
row cliffs, but how many provided cover as well as a
good view of the landscape below? Especially in the
direction of the zerg incubation chamber—he was
assuming the Executor had some way of detecting zerg
gathering spots, since protoss attacks had always con-
centrated on those locations, which meant they would
know about the Swarm’s hideout underground. So he
searched until he found a gap facing the right way, a
narrow cleft in the rock that led back to a space large
enough for a small squad to hunker down. After refill-
ing his canteen from a nearby pool, Raynor selected a
good vantage point on a rock spur overhanging the
nook, deliberately piled ash around and over himself
for concealment, and settled down to wait.
He must have dozed off while lying there, because
he dreamed of Kerrigan again. And once again it
wasn’t Kerrigan as she was or as she had been but Ker-
rigan as he’d wished her to be. She was wearing the
same outfit as before, the shirt’s top two buttons open
to reveal a tantalizing hint of cleavage, and more of her
hair had worked free of the ponytail, creating a loose
cap around her face. The wind was blowing the hair
about and she was laughing, brushing strands from her
eyes and cheeks. Her hands were long and slender,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S159

strong, artistic hands, and the nails were painted a
faint shade of green that complemented but couldn’t
compete with the green fire of her eyes. She was
lovely.
Now he saw himself in the dream, a him to match
her: Jim Raynor as he might have been in happier
times. His hair was longer than the stubble he had
now, still short enough to keep out of his eyes but just
long enough to be tugged this way and that by the
breeze, and long enough in back to brush his shirt col-
lar. He was wearing familiar clothing, the same buck-
skin pants and denim shirt he’d worn as a marshal, but
the combat vest was gone, replaced by a loose leather
one. His gun belt still hung across his hips, but the hol-
ster was empty. He had no weapon. And he found he
didn’t care.
Approaching Kerrigan, he held out one hand, palm
up. She smiled, blushing, and placed her hand atop
his. Then he led her a few steps away and she turned
to face him. He bowed, she curtsied, and they came
together, their hands still clasped and extended to the
side and their other arm around each other’s waist.
And they began to dance.
Then something stirred nearby, and Raynor woke up.
For a second he couldn’t remember where he was
or why he should care. All he wanted was to close his
eyes again and return to the dance. But the sound
came again, something hard and possibly metallic
brushing against stone very close by, and he shifted,
feeling rock beneath him and ash all around. Ah,

160 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


right—he was waiting by a spyhole and hoping the
protoss found it.
Apparently they had.
Peering over the edge of the overhang, he spotted a
protoss warrior by the gap, looking out upon the valley
below. The warrior had levered himself up and had his
legs wedged into the gap to support his weight. His
armor rubbing against the rock had been the noise
Raynor had heard. A second protoss stood behind the
first, arms raised across its chest but facing away,
clearly standing guard.
Raynor waited patiently as the first protoss studied
the scene below, then traded places with his compan-
ion. When both of them had looked their fill and then
slipped away through the narrow passage leading back
to the peaks, he rose, quietly, disturbing the ash
around him as little as possible, and dropped into the
gap. He didn’t hear anyone running back so he waited
a few seconds before following the same path the pro-
toss had taken. He spotted the second warrior’s head
just as it disappeared around a boulder up ahead.
Now that he knew where they were Raynor was
able to keep them in sight. He was careful not to get
too close—Tassadar had apparently decided he wasn’t
a threat, at least when they’d met down below, but he
didn’t want to provoke the warriors and find out if that
protection still held. Better to stay out of sight. Besides,
right now he didn’t need to speak to them, he just
wanted to figure out where they were and what they
were doing.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S161

An hour later he located their camp. Their ship must
have held more than he’d thought and the rest must
have emerged later, because Tassadar had at least a hun-
dred warriors crouching in a deep cleft between two
peaks. The Executor himself sat cross-legged upon a
short, wide boulder, and from where Raynor peeked
around a rock the alien’s eyes seemed to be closed. Was
he sleeping? Or meditating? Or perhaps tracking Kerri-
gan through dreams, the way Raynor had a few times?
There was no way to tell. But it didn’t matter, really—
he’d found them, and now he could watch them.
For the next day Raynor did exactly that. He located
several good vantage points and alternated between
them to keep from falling asleep or stiffening up. Each
one gave him good cover and a decent view of the val-
ley below. He’d also marked the three places where the
protoss could exit the valley, and made sure to keep
those in sight at all times. If they started moving he’d
know about it.
Nothing happened for a while, however. The war-
riors below didn’t mill about the way humans would,
which Raynor found disconcerting. No walking in cir-
cles, no whittling stray sticks or carving small rocks, no
chatting. No eating or drinking, either, which meant
his first guess had been correct—they didn’t need food
the same way he did. They simply crouched and
remained that way, not moving at all for hours on end.
Then suddenly one would stand and stretch, perform-
ing a series of gymnastics before returning to his
crouch in the exact same spot. It was eerie.

162 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


All of a sudden they were up and moving. Raynor
had just raised his canteen to his lips to take a quick
swallow when the protoss stood and began filing
through the pass on the opposite side. Damn, he
thought, quickly capping the canteen and getting to
his feet. He sprinted around the valley and got to the
pass before the last warrior had disappeared from view.
Then he paused a second to catch his breath before
creeping along behind them.
Tassadar led his warriors down and then through a
second pass, emerging just above a small plateau. He
ushered his troops out onto the clearing, and they
marshaled there, clearly preparing for battle. But
where were the zerg?
Raynor got his answer a moment later. First he
heard faint clicks and hisses, and then suddenly the
zerg came into view. They were marching—if he could
describe their crawling and gliding and stalking that
way—up the side of an old volcano not far below. The
ground all around the cone had fallen away and this
was the quickest way through the area.
Tassadar’s warriors crouched and began creeping to
the edge of the plateau. Then, in twos, they dropped
over the edge, landing soundlessly on a small ledge
below. From there they leaped across to the crater
itself, using the flaring edges of their armor to cling to
the rock. The plateau faced the side of the volcano, and
the zerg were marching from front to back—they had
not seen the protoss yet, and the Zealots were all safely
hidden by the crater’s lip.

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 163

After the last of the protoss had made the jump
Raynor lowered himself onto the plateau and moved
closer to the edge. He wasn’t about to attempt that
jump, though. Besides, he had a great view from right
here.
He watched as the zerg continued their progress,
climbing over the cone’s lip and down into the crater
itself. The surface looked solid, though Raynor
remembered what Cavez had said. Certainly if it was
just a skin the zerg would have crashed through, par-
ticularly the lumbering ultralisks, but they didn’t have
any trouble crossing. They probably had ways to detect
the hot spots, he realized, much like IR goggles
enabled his team to do.
After the zerg were all in the basin Tassadar ges-
tured, and his warriors hauled themselves around the
crater’s edge, hand over hand, until they were evenly
spaced about the lip. Then, at some signal Raynor
couldn’t see, they all heaved themselves up onto the
lip in a single motion and dove down into the crater.
As he watched, glowing spikes appeared from their
forearms, extending over their fists, and he realized
these energy blades were their primary weapons. The
Executor himself perched on the crater’s edge but did
not participate in the conflict—instead he sat and
watched, just as Raynor was doing.
The zerg were taken completely by surprise. The
brood had been concentrating on getting across the
crater and was unprepared for the sudden attack from
above. Protoss were among them in an instant, carving

164 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


through the zerg’s tough skin with their energy blades,
and a dozen or more zerg had fallen before the rest had
time to react. Raynor saw four warriors close in on an
ultralisk, each targeting a leg, and slice the massive
zerg to pieces before it could bring its large scythe-
tusks to bear.
One of the hydralisks reared up and hissed loudly
as it turned and slashed at a protoss warrior, leaving a
visible gash across his armored chest. The sound car-
ried across the plains, and to Raynor it had a clear
note of desperation. The zerg was calling for help! The
protoss stabbed forward with one hand and swept the
other in a wide outward arc, severing the hydralisk’s
limb and then impaling it through the head, and the
hydralisk’s cry faded, but Raynor could still hear the
grating voice echoing and knew its warning had gone
out.
Kerrigan must have been nearby because a moment
later Raynor heard a strange rustling, scraping sound,
like a bird’s flight mixed with the sound of bones
grinding together, and then she was there. She leaped
down into the crater, her wings flared behind her and
beating at the air, and landed atop a protoss warrior,
her wing-tips cutting him in two even before her feet
had touched the ground. Her zerg quickly rallied
around her and began pushing the protoss back while
Kerrigan herself glared about her, evidently seeking
her adversary.
“Where are you, Tassadar?” she shouted, her voice
making the nearby cliffs shake and causing rocks to

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S165

tumble free. Raynor felt the vibrations through the
plateau beneath him, and hoped it would hold. “Do
your underlings always do your fighting for you?”
She glanced up and spotted the Executor, still sitting
on the opposite lip, but before she could do more than
sneer at him he leaned backward and fell from sight.
Raynor, watching from above and behind, saw the
High Templar fall in a graceful dive, arms spreading
outward, then flip over and land on his feet in a small
ravine far below. Somehow he had signaled to his war-
riors at the same time, and they turned and bolted
from the crater, leaping over the edge and tumbling
down after their leader. Most of them lacked his grace
and precision, but they still managed to regroup in the
ravine without major injury and marched quickly
away, disappearing into the rocks.
Kerrigan had not hesitated either, and a powerful
jump carried her to the lip a moment behind the pro-
toss, her wings widespread to maintain her balance.
But by the time she had reached that perch her ene-
mies were gone, vanished into the warren of rock and
lava that lay all about them.
“Run and hide, little protoss,” she sneered after
searching for a moment. “You cannot evade me for-
ever. And when I find you”—her wings curled in like
hands forming fists—“I will rend you into bits!”
Turning back to her brood, she assessed the dam-
ages. So did Raynor. Two protoss had been killed but
their fellows had carried the bodies with them, leaving
behind only a few drops of blood upon the ash and

166A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


rock. Fully a third of the zerg brood had been killed or
maimed, however.
“Eliminate the wounded,” Kerrigan ordered, stand-
ing and walking around the crater, moving easily
across the narrow lip as if it were a wide road. The
unharmed zerg, obeying her command, quickly
turned on their injured fellows, and the air was filled
with blood and ichor until only the undamaged zerg
remained standing. The wounded did not put up a
fight.
Kerrigan had reached the far side of the volcano
now, and leaped down, gesturing for her surviving
zerg to follow her. They swarmed obediently up and
over the lip and then down onto the narrow ledge
below, and she led them in the same general direction
Tassadar had taken, clearly intent upon finding him.
Raynor doubted she’d succeed—despite her skills and
whatever mental powers she now possessed, he had a
feeling the Executor was ready for her. She wouldn’t
find the protoss until he wanted to be found.
The question, Raynor realized as he shifted his legs
to sit on the plateau with his back against the cliff, was
what to do now. Tassadar had disappeared. They might
return to the same valley, and he would check it out,
but the protoss would be foolish to use the same hid-
ing place twice, and the Executor was clearly no fool.
So he’d have to find them all over again. And right
now, with them on the move and the fact that they
had a head start and could run faster than he could,
there was no way he could catch up. He’d have to wait

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S167

until they went to ground and then find them all over
again.
As he was levering himself back to his feet he heard
a strange humming sound behind him. It was familiar,
and after a second he recognized it. It was the sound of
the protoss ship.
“Oh, now what?” Raynor asked as he twisted
around and dropped onto his stomach. He peered over
the edge of the plateau and stared down at the crater
below.
The protoss ship was landing.
His first thought was that the zerg had attacked the
ship and that was why it had relocated. It looked as if
it had been in a fight—gone was the glittering gold and
many of the majestic sweeps, and the hull was black-
ened instead. But then he looked again and realized
that the configuration was different—this ship was
smaller in general, stubbier, and lacked the elegance of
Tassadar’s. The hull was black, but not from damage—
instead it had a black finish that was smooth without
being glossy, reminding him of granite or black marble.
Where it was not black the ship gleamed a dull bronze,
weathered but still strong, and gave off a sense of
immense age and endurance.
This was a different ship entirely. A second protoss
vessel. What were two protoss ships doing here?
He watched, hunkered down, as the ship settled in,
its base resting amid the ichor and blood of the slain
zerg. The side irised open and the bottom lip elon-
gated, creating a walkway. After a few seconds several

168A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


protoss emerged and made their way down the gang-
plank and onto the crater floor.
At least Raynor thought they were protoss.
Just as the ship was slightly different, so these fig-
ures did not match the warriors he had seen before.
They were of a similar height and moved with equal
grace, but their armor was heavier, blockier, less
streamlined and less elegant. It had the same matte
finish as their ship, and seemed almost to absorb the
light around it, so that the figures below were standing
in shadow even though Char’s small sun stood almost
directly overhead. They had heavier brows, longer,
sharper chins, and ridged plates at the temple and
cheek that suggested horns, making them resemble
armored lizards rather than insects. Their bracers,
which had strange coils and wires running along their
length, were thick enough to house the same energy
blades, but they were darker than the rest of the
armor, as if the shadows were coalescing around the
figures’ hands and wrists.
Then their leader emerged.
He was tall, as tall as Tassadar, but more hunched.
Raynor had no idea how long protoss lived or how old
any of the ones he’d seen were, but something about
this new figure suggested great age. Despite that this
leader moved gracefully, his feet making no sound as
he stepped from the walkway to the ground. His face
was longer than that of his warriors, his chin curling
back up at its tip and flattening out, as if he had a
majestic beard. His skin seemed almost purple, partic-

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 169

ularly just below the deep-set pale green eyes, but
faded to white that shaded to ivory along his chin, and
he had bone ridges atop his head and small barbs along
his cheeks, like a great fanged lizard. Like Tassadar he
wore long strips of cloth across his chest and shoulders
and over his groin, but these were a soft black that glit-
tered slightly like stars in the nighttime sky. Beneath
those he had long robes with full, flaring sleeves, the
fabric a rich red-brown like dried blood, cuffed in a
softer brown like fur with strange sigils stretched all
around. Massive epaulets covered his shoulders, over-
lapping plates of metal or perhaps bone scored with
swirls and sweeps and pinned together by a gleaming
crystal dome the deep purple of a twilight sky. A
shadow traveled with this new protoss, shrouding him
despite the sunlight, and Raynor shivered, feeling a
chill emanating from the alien and his troops.
Who were these guys? he wondered. And what
were they doing here on Char?

CHAPTER 11




RAYNOR WATCHED AS THESE NEW DARK PRO-
toss gathered together and bowed their heads in
either communion or prayer. Then they moved to the
lip of the crater and effortlessly vaulted it to land
lightly on the far side of the slope—the way the zerg
had come, Raynor noticed. Intrigued, he abandoned
his hiding place and cut down from the plateau, tak-
ing a narrow path that led him along the cliff and to
the ground not far from the crater’s base. He moved
carefully, knowing the rocks there were not stable,
but as quickly as he dared, and he still arrived in time
to see the warriors descending into a wide cavern
nearby.
“Underground again,” he muttered to himself as he
jogged to the entrance and peered inside. “Great.” It
was too dark to see much, but the cavern did extend
backward and showed no sign of narrowing. At least
he wouldn’t be cramped. With a sigh he ducked
beneath the low arch of the entrance and headed

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 171

down, following the faint footsteps he heard some-
where ahead of him.
He didn’t have to worry about getting lost, as it
turned out. The cavern swept down, becoming a wide
tunnel, and then opened into an even larger chamber.
The curving roof here was easily a hundred feet above
the rough stone floor and the walls were surprisingly
smooth—where they weren’t covered in creep.
Because this chamber was infested by zerg and showed
the signs of their presence. Not the least of which being
the zerg themselves, who were massed down below. In
their center was one of the massive sluglike creatures,
the cerebrates. Raynor recognized this one as Zasz, the
cerebrate who had defied Kerrigan. Apparently her
response—killing his overlord—had not improved his
attitude toward her.
“The Queen of Blades is not worthy of our support,”
Zasz was whispering as Raynor flattened himself
behind a protrusion in the wall, hoping to escape
notice. “She risks us all with her impatience and her
temper. She is not zerg!”
If he was waiting for a reply from the Overmind he
did not get one, and the cerebrate’s muttering contin-
ued. “Her incompetence must be demonstrated! Her
leadership is suspect. It must not continue!”
While Zasz ranted, Raynor risked a quick glance
around. Where were those protoss? The tunnel had
led straight here—no branches or nooks or ante-
rooms—which meant they had come this way. But
how could they have gotten past this many zerg with-

172A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


out a fight? He looked around again, and almost
jumped when he saw a section of the wall move a
short ways below him. The patch of wall had looked
normal until it shifted, and then he saw a tall, slender
outline. Protoss! They could go invisible like Kerrigan,
or at least partially—now that he looked carefully he
could see the warrior standing there, and slowly he
distinguished several others beside the first. Why
hadn’t he noticed them before?
The answer became obvious as he saw the first war-
rior turn sideways—and vanish. In a second Raynor
was able to spot the protoss again, but the alien’s
armor had taken on the color and patterning of the
wall behind him. Protective camouflage.
Now that he knew what to look for Raynor spotted
several more protoss, all up against the same wall and
taking on the wall’s coloring and texture. But where
was their leader?
As if his thought had been a cue, the leader
appeared—near the center of the zerg brood, opposite
Zasz and perhaps a hundred feet from the cerebrate.
When he became visible his warriors went into motion
as well, abandoning their posts along the wall and glid-
ing down to the chamber floor, their footsteps almost
inaudible and their forms still little more than shifting
shadows.
The Swarm’s response was instantaneous. The
ultralisks stepped forward, locking their scythe-tusks
together to form a protective barrier around their
leader. The overlords and mutalisks took to the air, as

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 173

did the tiny scourge, while hydralisks and zerglings
ringed the ultralisks, facing outward. Every zerg
writhed with anticipation, flexing claws and tails and
baring teeth. They instinctively moved closer together
as the protoss leader stepped forward, a pace ahead of
his warriors—
—and held both massive, clawed hands up, palm
outward, in the universal sign for peace.
“I am Zeratul, Praetor of the Dark Templar,” he
announced, speaking to the cerebrate. His voice was
cold and dry, like old leaves, but a thrum behind the
shaky surface suggested depths best left untapped. “I
would speak with you, o Zasz of the cerebrate.”
The cerebrate wriggled slightly. “Why would I speak
with one such as you?” Zasz asked, though it seemed
he did not expect a reply. “You are an enemy of the
Swarm, and must be destroyed.”
“Without a doubt you can destroy us,” Zeratul
agreed. “For we are few and you are many. But what
then? Still you must contend with the Executor and
his warriors. Still you must block the Queen from con-
solidating her power—by destroying you and claiming
your duties and your brood for her own.”
“What know you of our queen?” Zasz demanded.
“Only her greatest weakness.” Though the Praetor’s
reply was spoken softly, every zerg stopped whatever it
had been doing to listen to this conversation, sensing
its potential to destroy a hated enemy and perhaps
exact revenge for the drops that had been spilled.
“Would you know it?” His words lacked Kerrigan’s

174 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


power but had another quality to them, a depth that
spoke of great age and perhaps even wisdom.
Zasz was evidently swayed as well. “I would hear
more of this weakness,” he admitted.
“We shall speak together as equals,” Zeratul offered.
“I enter your brood unarmed to show my faith in the
process.” His arms had remained up this entire time,
but now he gestured with them to make it even more
obvious that he was unarmed. “Come meet with me
and we shall discuss such matters.”
For a moment no one moved. Raynor, watching
from his safe perch along the tunnel, was sure the zerg
would simply fall upon this Zeratul and tear him to
shreds. Even with his warriors nearby, and with the
power Raynor sensed around him, the strange protoss
would be no match for a full zerg brood. Yet they didn’t
attack. Zasz simply swayed, as if debating, and his
brood waited, twitching eagerly but not advancing.
“We will speak,” Zasz finally confirmed. At its words
the zerg around it pulled back, though reluctantly. The
overlords, mutalisks, and scourge parted, to hover off in
the chamber’s corners, while the ultralisks backpedaled
and the hydralisks and zerglings moved aside. Now
there was an empty ring around the cerebrate. Zeratul
stepped forward and walked slowly to the center of the
room. The other protoss—the other Dark Templar,
Raynor assumed—stepped back a few paces as well,
until they were arrayed before the end of the tunnel. It
looked almost like an elaborate dance.
“Speak, then,” Zasz urged when he and Zeratul

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S175

were mere feet apart. Raynor could see strange shapes
and flashes of color shifting beneath the cerebrate’s
skin and knew Zasz was eager, and growing impatient.
“Tell us of this weakness.”
“And so I shall,” the protoss confirmed, leaning in
slightly. His head tilted down, his body crouching a lit-
tle to put him closer to the cerebrate’s level. Raynor
wondered how the protoss could stand being so close
to the foul zerg, but Zeratul showed no hint of discom-
fort or even dislike. He looked as if he were relaying
secrets to a close friend.
“Your queen,” he informed the cerebrate, his voice
little more than a dry whisper, “has one great weak-
ness, as I said. A flaw that could easily prove fatal.”
“Tell us!” Zasz demanded, the spots on his front
flashing more brightly.
“Very well.” Zeratul nodded, and with one arm ges-
tured behind him. “The flaw is this: the same as the
rest of your kind. The same that shall be your death!”
With these last words a blade appeared above the out-
stretched hand, jutting from his wrist. It was much like
the weapons Raynor had seen on Tassadar’s warriors,
an energy spike that glittered and glowed, but those
had been a smooth, gleaming blue-white. This was a
sparking hissing yellowish green, the same shade as his
eyes, wisps of vapor rising from its edges. Beneath the
hiss Raynor could feel a deep thrum through his bones
and his teeth, and the room grew noticeably colder.
Then Zeratul pivoted, his cocked arm jabbing for-
ward, and the blade struck deep into the cerebrate.

176A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Zasz screamed, a horrible rending sound that tore
Raynor’s throat in sympathy. Despite his hatred for the
zerg he felt pity for the creature. More than anything
he wanted that horrible sound to stop. The Dark Tem-
plar remained where he was, his blade embedded in
the cerebrate’s flesh as Zasz convulsed in agony. The
lights within him were spasming as well, colors and
shapes appearing suddenly and without pattern, and
the rest of the zerg writhed in shared pain. None of
them attacked, however—evidently they were too
shocked to move without a direct order, and Zasz was
in no shape to give one.
After what seemed like minutes Zeratul leaned in,
forcing his blade even deeper, and twisted his arm,
causing the blade to widen the hole it had made. The
screaming stopped abruptly and Zasz collapsed, his
massive body limp.
Then Raynor saw a strange thing. A glow gathered
from deep within the cerebrate’s body, coalescing as it
moved forward, until it passed through the gaping
hole in its head and floated just above, a ball of yel-
lowish light that wriggled and extruded small glowing
tentacles in every direction. Somehow Raynor knew
that this, and not that awkward shell, was the true
Zasz. The ball rose, hovering there as if waiting for
instructions or direction.
Then the Dark Templar struck. His blade lashed out,
a great sweeping gesture, and the ball was sliced in
two. The brilliant energy spike left trails of light and
shadow behind it as it moved, and the ball’s glow was

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 177

smothered by the shadows, its own light absorbed
even as it fell, its form collapsing until it was just a scat-
tering of faint light and then nothing at all.
And the brood went wild.
They had not moved while Zeratul attacked Zasz,
but when his blade carved open that glowing sphere a
thrum went through the chamber, somewhere bet-
ween a snap and a sigh, like a taut wire breaking. The
zerg evidently heard it as well, and the sound drove
them mad. Suddenly they were moving, but not as
they had before. This was a true “swarm,” with no
coordination or purpose, and as Raynor watched an
ultralisk stomped on a zergling, squashing it flat. Two
hydralisks turned on each other, each of their scythes
lashing out to slice deep into the other’s flesh.
Mutalisks dove into the crowd, spewing their acid on
their fellow zerg, and scourge exploded against over-
lords and ultralisks alike, their suicidal detonations
destroying the larger zerg and spreading ichor and
blood and flesh everywhere.
In the midst of all this, Zeratul stood unmoving. The
blade at his wrist had vanished, and now he merely
watched as the brood turned upon itself. After a
moment he nodded, then stalked back toward the tun-
nel. His warriors moved to flank him as he passed, and
together they walked back up the tunnel and out of
the cavern. Raynor hugged the wall as they passed, but
if they saw him they did not acknowledge his pres-
ence. A moment later their footsteps had faded and he
was alone with the zerg.

178 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Not that they noticed him either. They were too
busy killing each other. It wasn’t murderous rage,
though, he realized. He’d seen the zerg fight often
enough to know how efficient they could be at killing.
This was too careless, too sloppy. An ultralisk stormed
across the chamber, its head swiveling this way and
that as it moved, its scythe-tusks impaling smaller zerg.
But it missed as many as it hit and it didn’t finish off
the zerg it wounded—instead it ran on, ignoring the
damage it caused, until it reached the far wall. Then, as
Raynor watched amazed, the ultralisk charged full
force into the cavern, its tusks shattering with a sick-
ening crunch. It reared back, clearly dazed, and
repeated the attack, again and again, each time injur-
ing itself more, until finally its head collided with a
rocky spur, producing a loud crack, and the ultralisk
fell to the ground, its skull caved in.
This was insane, Raynor thought as he watched the
chaos below him. They weren’t angry—they had gone
mad!
He thought about that. Maybe they had gone mad.
Or mindless, at least. This was Zasz’s brood. The cere-
brate had controlled them utterly. Raynor had noticed
before that individual zerg had little autonomy—even
the cerebrates were bound to the Overmind’s will. Ker-
rigan was apparently an exception. She’d been allowed
to retain her free will, and was loyal to the Swarm but
could act independently. The other zerg were more
tightly controlled. So, if Zasz had done all the thinking
for his brood, and Zeratul had just killed him, where did

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 179

that leave these zerg? Without a controlling thought.
No wonder they were going berserk—they were mind-
less killers and all their restraints had just fallen away,
but without a direction they simply lashed out around
themselves.
A chill crept through Raynor as he retreated hastily
toward the surface, keeping an eye on the carnage
behind him. Fortunately the zerg were too distracted
to notice him. The zerg’s greatest strengths were their
sheer numbers and their ability to act as one, he
thought as he exited the cavern and took a deep
breath, relieved to be back in the sunlight and open air
again. Zeratul had found a way to sever the connection
between individual zerg—he had killed one zerg, the
cerebrate, and had effectively dispatched an entire
brood. If he and his people could learn to do that, to
target the cerebrates, they could end this war! They
could destroy the zerg for good!
“It can’t be that easy,” he admitted as he walked
away, heading back toward his camp. The Dark Tem-
plar had vanished, as had the other protoss, and he
was too weary and too shaken by what he’d seen to go
after them again. Besides, he had a lot to think about.
If all it took to destroy a brood was killing the cere-
brate, why hadn’t Tassadar done the same? Sure, the
Executor had said he was here to study Kerrigan, but
he’d fought the zerg before. Why not just target their
cerebrates, render the broods helpless, and then mop
them up? In that way the protoss would never lose a war
against the Swarm, and the Swarm probably wouldn’t

180A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


have ever made it to Mar Sara and the other human
worlds.
There was more to it than that. There had to be. Tas-
sadar hadn’t used that tactic because he didn’t know it.
But the protoss must have known about the cerebrates.
And if they had, why hadn’t they targeted them? It
couldn’t be that simple. Zeratul knew something he
didn’t, something even Tassadar didn’t.
His mind flashed back to Zasz’s death, and to the
strange light show that had followed. It was the second
time he’d seen a protoss battle a zerg commander, and
the second time he’d seen something that didn’t look
quite real. What was he really seeing when Kerrigan
and Tassadar fought, and when Zeratul destroyed that
glowing sphere that came from Zasz? He didn’t know,
but whatever it was, that was the key to all this. Zer-
atul’s killing the cerebrate hadn’t been enough—the
brood had been frozen during the attack, but they
hadn’t gone berserk until later.
Not until Zeratul had destroyed that ball of light.
Somehow that light was the key. And Raynor was
pretty sure he couldn’t hit something like that with a
gauss rifle. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he’d have seen it
if not for Zeratul. So maybe it was only the Dark
Templar who could do something like that. He won-
dered if they’d consider allying with him to wipe out
the rest of the Swarm. Certainly Zeratul seemed less
interested in testing Kerrigan than Tassadar had—the
Praetor hadn’t even asked about her, but had instead
sought out and attacked Zasz.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 181

Raynor shook his head. “Too much too fast,” he
muttered as he clambered over a small crater, careful
not to step in its center until he’d tossed a rock there to
see if the surface was solid enough to hold. He’d come
here to rescue Kerrigan, plain and simple. Instead he
was climbing around on the rocks, spying on not one
but two groups of protoss, watching them alternately
fight and taunt the zerg. It was all a little too strange for
him, and way too complicated. Not for the first time,
he wished Mike were here. The newshound was
sharper than he was. He’d understand all this, and
then he could explain it. But Mike was nowhere near,
was off running his rebel broadcasts, which left Raynor
to figure this out on his own.

CHAPTER 12




BY THE TIME HE STUMBLED BACK INTO CAMP,
Raynor was exhausted. It was already late enough
that most of his people were asleep, leaving only the
night watch and a handful of others to notice as he
staggered to his tent, crawled into it, shucked off his
boots, and collapsed.
And, of course, he dreamed.
He and Kerrigan were still dancing, twirling and
dipping to music he recognized as the old folk tunes
he’d heard while growing up. It was music he’d heard
when visiting his grandfather, and carried happy
memories—dancing to it with Kerrigan only added to
them, leaving him warm and content. Then the music
shifted, slowing, and she stepped in close, her arms
rising to wrap loosely around his neck. His own
shifted to settle at her waist, his hands clasped at the
small of her back. They were doing little more than
swaying to the rhythm, occasionally shuffling a step
forward or back. Their eyes were locked together, and

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S183

hers twinkled with happiness, arousal, and something
else—mischief. Her hip brushed against him as they
took a step. Her chest rubbed against his as he stepped
forward, and this time she didn’t step back as quickly.
Somehow she contrived for their bodies to connect
repeatedly, though always in innocent, seemingly
accidental ways. And all the time her face bore a look
of calm enjoyment, but her eyes told the real story.
She was toying with him.
Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He tightened
his arms around her, preventing her from moving
away, and leaned in close. Her eyes widened slightly,
though he knew she wasn’t at all surprised. Her lips
parted and her chin tilted slightly, so that her mouth
met his. Their lips brushed, gently at first, then pressed
together more firmly as they both gave in to the pas-
sion they felt. It was their first kiss. It was worth wait-
ing for. It was gentle and sweet and demanding and a
powerful hint of what might follow, and for a second
after they pulled apart Raynor could not think, could
not blink, could barely breathe for wanting her.
Then he woke up.


“So we’ve got two kinds of protoss out there?”
Abernathy asked as the three of them gathered inside
the shuttle for their customary morning meeting.
Raynor nodded and gratefully accepted the mug of
coffee she handed him.
“That’s right.” He took a sip, ignoring the way it
scalded his tongue, and sighed in relief as he felt the

184 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


caffeine kick in, jolting his system fully awake. “This
second group calls itself the Dark Templar.” In his
memory he saw Zeratul again, with that sliver of dark-
ness protruding from his hand and that cloak of cold
and shadow wrapped around him, and shivered.
“They’re definitely dark, I’ll give them that,” he admit-
ted. “Their tech, their mind-powers, whatever, seem
drawn from cold and the dark. Like space.”
“But we don’t need to worry about them attacking
us?” Cavez asked a little nervously.
“No,” Raynor reassured him, “I don’t think they’ll
attack us. We’re not their targets here—either group’s.
The regular protoss are after Kerrigan. Near as I can
figure, the Dark Templar just want to destroy the zerg.”
“Sounds good to me,” Abernathy said, and Raynor
chuckled.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. He’d already told them
what he’d seen, including how the zerg brood had
reacted. He didn’t mention the sphere of light, how-
ever. He knew how it’d sound if he did, like he was los-
ing his mind, seeing things. So he left that part out.
“I’m hoping we can strike a deal with them,” he admit-
ted, “scratch each other’s backs. We offer some extra
firepower, they use their whatever-it-was to mess up
the zerg, then give us a ride off this rock.”
“How do we find them?” Cavez asked.
“I can find them,” Raynor told him. “I did it once, I
can do it again.” He didn’t mention that encountering
the Dark Templar had been luck the first time. But why
not let them hope a little? “I’ll track down the other

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 185

protoss too,” he decided. “I want to keep an eye on
both of them, and on the zerg, just in case anyone
starts wandering through this area or decides they
need to knock us off too.”
“Do you want to take some of the men with you,
just in case?” Abernathy asked.
Raynor shook his head. “No, I can move faster
alone, and I’m used to it. Besides, everybody’s got their
assignments. No sense switching ’em now.” He didn’t
point out the obvious—that even if every trooper went
with him they’d be no match for the first protoss group
or a zerg brood, and possibly not for the Dark Templar
either. Safety in numbers only worked when you had
the numbers on your side.
“We’ve got everything covered here,” Cavez assured
him, and Raynor clapped the young trooper on the
shoulder.
“I know you do,” he told the younger man. “You
two don’t need me hanging around all day.” He
grinned and took another slug of his coffee. “Better if I
keep myself busy and out of your way.”


The next day Raynor headed back out, looking for
signs of any of the three leaders he sought. Immedi-
ately, however, he was faced with a dilemma: should
he return to the mountains or head down into the
lowlands, where cracked earth was broken up by small
steam vents and pocked with fissures? He figured the
protoss would head back up into the mountains,
where they could find more cover and also have a bet-

186A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


ter vantage from which to spot Kerrigan. But she
wouldn’t go up there. She’d stay down low, scouring
the landscape for any sign of her foes, daring them to
come to her. He knew that both from the Kerrigan of
old and from what he’d seen of the new, awe-inspiring
Kerrigan.
Plus something about his dreams told him she was
south rather than north, low rather than high.
He had dreamed again last night, and again they
had been dancing. They kissed, just as they had before,
and then she pulled back, smirking, and twisted free of
his arms. A quick, sly look at him and she was off and
running, forcing him to chase her. He did so happily,
laughing at the sheer joy of it all, loving the feel of the
wind in his hair and the sight of her before him, her
long red hair streaming about her.
She was quick, but he was taller and his longer
strides ate up the distance, closing the gap until finally
he could reach out and snag her wrist. The sudden
shift in her balance caused her to stumble, and he
bumped into her, the two of them toppling to the
ground together. They landed on soft grass, amused
and unhurt, and Kerrigan struggled to free herself,
twisting her hand this way and that but to no avail.
She was laughing the whole time, and so was he.
At last she gave up trying to escape and, suddenly
changing tacks, shouldered him aside, causing him to
topple onto his back again. Then she rolled over onto
him, forcing the air from his lungs. He lay there, trying
to catch his breath, and she pulled her wrist loose.

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S187

“Aha!” she shouted triumphantly, raising both arms to
keep them free of his grasp.
Then she turned so she was lying atop him, face-to-
face. And, grinning, she lowered her lips to his.
He woke still tasting her kiss.
Now, as he wandered through Char’s strange, sul-
furous desert, Raynor thought about his dreams again.
He had dreamed of Kerrigan before, of course, starting
back when he’d first met her—dreams of how that
encounter could have gone differently, dreams of the
two of them talking, dreams of them getting along,
even dreams Kerrigan would have wanted to shoot
him for if she had seen them in his head. But since
landing on Char he’d been dreaming about her more
and more, almost every time he closed his eyes. Was
that just because he’d thought she was dead and now
knew she was alive, if altered? Was it because he felt
drawn to her, even more now than before? Because
something about her, in her new form, was utterly
captivating?
As he stalked across the plains, stepping carefully to
avoid cracks and crevices and steam, he kept his eyes
peeled. The Kerrigan of old would have disappeared,
going Ghost on him, but somehow he didn’t think this
new Kerrigan would use that trick. She was bolder
now, more confident. Maybe that was part of what he
liked about her. He’d always felt Kerrigan’s brashness
was a mask for a lonely, self-conscious young woman.
Now she was completely sure of herself and had no
need for such tricks.

188 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


He came to the edge of a massive crevice that could
easily have been defined as a valley. Looking out over
it, shading his eyes against the glare of the hard-baked
dirt and rock, he spotted movement. The ground
seemed darker in one area, and at first he couldn’t tell
if it was actually moving or if the steam was causing
ripples in the air, playing tricks on his eyes. He
squinted, trying to get a better view, then finally gave
up and pulled the binoculars from their case on his
belt. With them raised he could see the disturbance
clearly.
It was zerg, definitely. He could make out several
overlords hovering above the ground, smaller shapes
that were probably mutalisks darting between them.
Below those were the massive ultralisks, easily distin-
guished now, and around them smaller shapes that
had to be hydralisks and zerglings. One shape walked
out in front, from this distance little more than a dark
butterfly with legs, even through the binoculars. But
he recognized the outline and the walk instantly. It
was Kerrigan.
“Gotcha,” Raynor muttered as he returned the
binoculars to their case and studied the edge of the
crevice before him. Off to one side a little ways he spot-
ted a crack that angled down. It was wide enough for
him to fit through, and if it ran all the way to the bot-
tom he’d have an easy path. The crack was also narrow
enough that levering himself back up it wouldn’t be
too hard, either, though he hoped he didn’t have to do
that with a full zerg brood in hot pursuit.

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S189

The crack petered out halfway to the valley floor but
ended in a short ledge. Raynor found a second ledge
about ten feet below the first one and jumped down,
catching himself before he stumbled forward and fell.
That ledge was only a few feet wide but another five feet
over was a longer one that angled down into a trail, and
after jumping onto it Raynor was able to continue his
descent. By the time he had reached the valley floor, an
hour or two later, he was sweaty and exhausted. And
the zerg were closer.
Taking a few quick swallows of water and munch-
ing on some rations, he eased his way into the valley
proper, hugging the wall behind him for cover. The
zerg were still a good distance away, and he inched his
way forward, being careful to stay as concealed and
quiet as possible. He wanted to spy on them, not get
killed by them.
Finally he found a small crack in the wall behind
him, creating a nook barely as wide as his shoulders,
and he tucked himself into the cramped space and
waited. The zerg were close enough for him to hear
them, and he strained to listen.
“Insufferable protoss coward!” Kerrigan was raging.
Peeking around the edge of the nook, he saw her storm-
ing across the valley floor, her wings jabbing at the air
with each step. “Tassadar cannot evade my wrath for-
ever,” she promised herself, her hands clenching into
fists and beating against her sides. “I shall find him
and—”
Her raving was interrupted by a faint rushing sound

190A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


overhead, and Raynor ducked back, glancing up as he
did. It was an overlord, and he wondered where it had
come from, since Kerrigan’s own were still behind her
with the rest of her brood.
“Kerrigan,” the overlord called out, and he recog-
nized the voice. It was the other cerebrate, Daggoth,
the one that in his dreams had given Kerrigan the use
of his warriors for her assault on the Amerigo. “Zasz is
dead!” he informed her, his overlord floating nerv-
ously just beyond her reach. For a second Raynor
wondered if Daggoth had heard how Kerrigan had
treated Zasz’s overlord back in the crater. Was he afraid
she would attack his messenger as well?
This was not unwelcome news, however, and so she
merely smiled up at it, a sharp-toothed, nasty smile.
“Oh?” she purred, her wings curling about her con-
tentedly. “Dead, you say?” Then her smile dimmed. “It
is a pity that cerebrates cannot truly be killed,” she
said, which made Raynor sit up and take notice. What
did she mean by that? “I expect,” she continued, “that
the Overmind will reincarnate him soon. . . .”
Raynor rested his head against the cool rock of his
hiding place, trying to process what she had just let slip
so casually. Cerebrates reincarnated! His first thought
was to discount that as hocus-pocus—he’d heard peo-
ple talk about reincarnation before, usually either old
folks or young kids with starry eyes and crazy ideas.
But then, this was Kerrigan talking. Even before her
transformation she’d been as hardheaded and practical
as . . . well, as him. And her becoming zerg had, if any-

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S191

thing, stripped away any lingering frivolities. If she
was talking about reincarnation, especially to a cere-
brate, she was serious. Which meant the zerg com-
manders couldn’t be killed, at least not permanently.
His heart sank. The zerg had a ridiculous number of
warriors and could always breed more. And now their
commanders couldn’t die. They were impossible to
defeat.
Apparently the zerg had thought so as well, which
explained the panic he heard in Daggoth’s voice as the
cerebrate replied, “No, he will not!” The overlord’s agi-
tation increased and Kerrigan looked up at it curiously.
So did Raynor. “The protoss have devised some new
attack,” Daggoth explained hurriedly, “an attack pow-
erful enough to nullify our reincarnation and give
pause to the Overmind itself!”
Raynor wanted to shout when he heard that, and
he had to bite down on his gloved hand to keep him-
self quiet. Zeratul! Whatever the Dark Templar had
done to Zasz, it had been permanent. And it was
throwing the zerg into complete panic!
“I had wondered,” Kerrigan admitted, almost to her-
self, “why the Overmind felt so . . . distant from me.”
“As had I,” Daggoth replied, and Raynor could hear
both surprise and sorrow in the cerebrate’s tone. “You
are a mere youngling, recently brought to the Swarm.
I have served countless lifetimes, and ever have my
mind and the Overmind’s been one. Now there is an
emptiness within me, and my cries to him fall without
reply.”

192A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“Is it so hard,” Kerrigan asked him then, her words
condescending but strangely bitter, “to manage with-
out the Overmind’s guidance? To pilot your own
course?”
“Such is not our way” was Daggoth’s only answer,
and Raynor saw Kerrigan’s face twist in what might
have been disgust. She was clearly not pleased, though
Raynor knew she was perfectly happy to see Zasz gone
for good. Still, she snarled as she digested the new
information and considered it in light of other recent
events, her wings twitching impatiently. “So,” she said
finally, the word little more than a growl. “Tassadar’s
plan was merely a diversion. I should not have under-
estimated him so.” If anything she looked even angrier
than before, and Raynor pitied the Executor when
Kerrigan found him. If there was one thing she had
always hated it was to be treated as if she didn’t matter,
and Tassadar’s taunting her had merely been a ploy to
keep her distracted. In truth, it didn’t mean she wasn’t
important—if anything it matched the protoss’s state-
ment that she was of critical importance and of the
utmost danger—but she saw it differently.
“Without its master,” Daggoth was saying, “Zasz’s
brood has run amok, and even now threatens the Hive
Cluster.” His overlord turned, spotting one of the other
overlords that still hovered over the rest of Kerrigan’s
brood. “Cerebrate,” it called, addressing the nameless
cerebrates whose brood Kerrigan now commanded,
“you must eradicate the rampaging brood and stem
any further damage it might cause.” Daggoth’s over-

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S193

lord twitched in what might have been fear. “I shall
deal with the protoss myself.”
“No,” Kerrigan corrected, and the overlord froze in
the act of turning away. “The High Templar is mine.”
“We each must play our role, o Queen of Blades,”
Daggoth told her, and his words sounded suspiciously
like a reprimand. Apparently Kerrigan thought so as
well, and her wings swept up, grazing the overlord’s
sides and drawing a twitch of pain from it. “We must
do as the Overmind might bid, were it to speak
again.”
“The High Templar is mine,” she repeated softly, her
words rolling with power. “You will handle Zasz’s
brood. I will find the protoss and teach them the error of
their ways.” Then she grinned. “The Overmind would
approve this plan, were it still linked to us.” To Raynor
the last statement had the shape of a barb, reminding
the cerebrate that he had no one to back him.
For a moment no one spoke, and Raynor could
almost taste the tension. Would Daggoth prove to be
another Zasz, he wondered, and defy Kerrigan’s com-
mands?
But Daggoth was an older cerebrate, and much
wiser. “It shall be as you say,” he declared finally. “My
brood is in proximity to Zasz’s own and will dispatch
his raving subjects.”
“Good.” Kerrigan nodded. “When that is done, locate
the protoss’s craft and destroy it. I will not give him the
option of escape.” She turned away, wings furling, and
Daggoth recognized the dismissal. His overlord flew off,

194A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


presumably returning to the rest of its brood, leaving
Kerrigan alone with her loyal zerg.
“Where have you gone, little Templar?” she whis-
pered, her eyes narrowing. Raynor felt a strange pres-
sure behind his eyes, and he thought he saw Kerrigan
glance in his direction. Then the feeling moved on.
“Ah,” she sighed after a moment. “There you are.” And
she was off at a run, her wings flapping behind her and
causing her feet to glide across the ground. Her brood
moved with her, and in a moment Raynor was alone.
He waited until he was sure they had all swept past
before abandoning his hiding place and all pretenses of
stealth and running after them.


The zerg ran for hours, seemingly tireless, leaping
across small chasms and circling around larger crevices,
before finally reaching a wide plateau that resembled
the one on Antiga Prime where Raynor had first met
Kerrigan. Tailing behind the zerg, drenched in sweat
and gasping for breath, he skidded to a stop just in time
to keep from falling onto the plateau as the last of the
zerg jumped down.
The protoss were waiting for them.
This was the first group of protoss, one hundred
strong, and they were arranged around the far edge of
the plateau. Tassadar stood tall and proud before them,
close to the center of the wide flat rock. His eyes were
already locked upon Kerrigan, who had leaped down
to the plateau first and was already stalking toward
him, her wings spreading in anticipation.

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 195

“Trapped at last, little Templar,” she hissed to him as
she closed the distance. Her hands flexed, eager to
carve into flesh, and her wings mimicked the gesture.
“This shall be our battleground, o Queen,” Tassadar
replied. “Face me here, and I will defeat you myself!”
He did not step back or move at all as she closed the
distance, and his large electric-blue eyes regarded her
calmly as she paused perhaps five feet away.
“I face you now, little Templar,” Kerrigan replied,
baring her teeth at him, “and you face your doom!”
She leaped forward, spinning as she did, and her wings
spun around her, their blades whistling toward the
Executor—
—and finding nothing but empty air. Tassadar was
no longer there.
“Where?” Kerrigan wheeled about and spotted the
High Templar the same time Raynor did. The protoss
leader was now standing behind her, ten paces back,
still looking unfazed. Raynor wasn’t sure how he had
moved so quickly, and Kerrigan didn’t seem to care.
She practically skipped across the distance, bounding
up and spinning, then landing on one foot and leaping
to spin again. It was beautiful, a ballet of death, her
body transformed into a single whirling blade, and in
the time it took to blink she had closed the gap and her
blades had found flesh.
The flesh of a hydralisk, which collapsed in pieces,
its body still twitching as the image of Tassadar faded
from it.
“An illusion?” Kerrigan howled, turning back toward

196 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


the far end of the plateau, her eyes flicking across the
assembled protoss warriors as she tried to locate her foe.
Her lips pulled back in a sneer. “Are you afraid to face
me, Templar?”
“So long as you continue to be so predictable, o
Queen,” Tassadar replied, “I need not face you at all.
You are your own worst enemy.” His voice echoed all
around them but had no clear source, nor had his war-
riors moved when he spoke.
“You cannot hide from me, little protoss,” Kerrigan
warned him, her eyes narrowing. Raynor felt that
same strange pressure and realized she was reaching
out with her mind. After a few seconds she straight-
ened from her crouch, focusing on one of the Zealots.
“I know you are here,” she called out, walking toward
the warrior she had selected. “It does not matter that I
cannot find you. You are a leader, little Templar, and
you will not allow your men to come to harm.” As she
moved her wings stretched out behind her, and the
sun’s light caught upon them. Raynor thought he saw
an iridescence stretch between her wing-blades, a
sheen like a soap bubble linking the barbs and creating
a faint skin across them. When he blinked it vanished,
but after a second he saw it again.
Kerrigan had reached the warrior now, and she
smiled at him. It was not a friendly smile. The protoss
remained motionless, looking through her, arms
crossed over his chest. She turned away as if to speak
to her zerg, who waited impatiently where she had left
them, and her left wing swept around as she turned,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S197

that sheen touching the warrior’s neck. He did not
make a sound as his eyes suddenly dimmed and his
head toppled to the ground, rolling off the edge of the
plateau. The body crumpled a second later, fountain-
ing blood from its severed neck.
“Shall I kill another?” Kerrigan called out, smiling
as she turned toward the next warrior in line. Her
wings wriggled excitedly.
“Hold!” One of the warriors near the end of the line
stepped forward, his armor and clothing changed as he
moved, until Tassadar faced her. “Very well, o Queen. I
am here. Now face me in battle.”
“With pleasure,” Kerrigan snarled, and launched
herself at him.
Once again Raynor saw a strange layered image. He
saw Kerrigan leap toward Tassadar, her wings lashing
out at him, and saw the Executor dodge the blow. The
protoss leader had no weapons and made no counter-
attack but Kerrigan pivoted away as if he had.
She spun again, the tip of one wing scraping across
the Executor’s chest and causing him to stumble. He
allowed himself to fall, catching himself with one
hand, and then kicked off the ground, pivoting up
until he was upside down and supported on that hand
before flipping back over and landing on his feet again.
Tassadar stepped forward, or tried to—suddenly he
was hurled back into his warriors, who staggered but
caught him and themselves before they fell off the
plateau. This time Raynor thought he saw the Execu-
tor’s eyes widen in surprise or perhaps pain. Or both.

198 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Tassadar was suddenly tugged forward again, limbs
flailing against air, until his face was inches from Kerri-
gan’s. He swept his arms around, fists aimed for her
head, but her wings blocked the blow and pinned him in
midair like an enormous bug trapped in a spider’s web.
That was what Raynor saw. But not all he saw.
Because superimposed on that was another sequence
of events, similar but grander, more electrifying, and
more unnerving.
Kerrigan leaped toward Tassadar, her wings out,
that rainbow sheen between them. Tassadar’s body
was suddenly enveloped by a blue glow similar to the
one Raynor had seen around the protoss ship.
The Executor spun, raising one arm to block, and
sparks flew as iridescence and blue lightning collided.
His other arm lashed out and across in a solid back-
hand, blue flickers arcing behind it, and Kerrigan
stepped back, her wings floating up to avoid that glow.
She moved in again, pivoting so one wing raked
across him, and though he threw up both arms to
block the blow the impact still hurled him backward,
his glow dimming slightly.
Tassadar fell and flipped over, using Kerrigan’s blow
as momentum and one hand for support. As he
moved, his right foot lashed out toward her head, the
glow around that limb intensifying and extending out-
ward like a blade. She jerked to one side, however, and
the blow missed her.
Then her wings flexed and snapped forward, as if
tossing something, and the iridescence shot forward

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 199

like strands of a web, catching the Executor in the chest.
Kerrigan leaned back, her wings sweeping behind
her, and the strands remained, yanking Tassadar for-
ward. His glow grew weaker, particularly at the point
of contact. He tried to lash out with both hands, focus-
ing the glow there until his fists shone like twin bea-
cons, but Kerrigan’s wings blocked the attack. More
sparks flew, and iridescence from the wings wrapped
around the Executor’s wrists, binding him tightly.
Then Kerrigan raised her wings and Tassadar rose
with them like a puppet on taut strings. His glow had
faded further and was almost gone except for a faint
halo around the head.
“Now I have you, little Templar,” Kerrigan purred,
gazing up at her captive. “What shall I do with you?”
she pondered theatrically, one finger resting on her
chin, her other hand on her hip. After a moment she
nodded. “Death, I think, but not too quickly.” Then, as
if for the first time, Kerrigan noticed the other protoss,
who were still standing motionless around the
plateau’s edge. “Oh yes, I’d forgotten them,” she com-
mented. She glanced over her shoulder to her brood.
“Kill them,” she commanded. “Kill them all.”
The zerg had been pacing and shifting and fluttering,
clearly under orders and impatient to attack but unwill-
ing to disobey. Now, with their queen’s permission, they
charged, their bloodlust no longer held in check.
Raynor saw a mutalisk dive toward a protoss, its mouth
open as it flew, and then it was past the warrior and cir-
cling back around. The acid it had spit at him as it went

200A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


past ate through the warrior’s armor, though his flesh,
and apparently even through his bones, causing the
body to collapse in pieces like a loose jigsaw puzzle. A
pair of hydralisks had descended upon another and zer-
glings were everywhere, snapping and biting at limbs
and preventing the warriors from blocking any attacks.
I’ve got to help them, Raynor decided, still watching
from his safe location just above the plateau’s near
end. Otherwise Kerrigan’s brood will slaughter them
all. But what could he do? He had his pistol but no
rifle, no armor, and no backup. He cursed himself for
not taking the combat armor—it would have elimi-
nated any chance at stealth but he could have kept up
more easily and he’d have some firepower now, when
he needed it.
Raynor glanced around desperately, looking for
anything that could help, and his eyes passed along
several of Kerrigan’s brood floating a short distance
above the others. Mutalisks, overlords, and scourge
waited in the air for their queen to call them to battle.
The small, fast-moving scourge had barely enough
energy to go a few hours without sustenance, so they
were perched in rows along the backs of the three
overlords that floated in a rough line on the other side
of the square, eagerly awaiting the command to
launch themselves at the enemy.
Something about that arrangement struck Raynor
oddly, and he glanced back again, but couldn’t figure
out what was bugging him. Instead he shifted his gaze
to stare at the zerg ground forces, who were making

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S201

short work of the protoss. The protoss warriors were
taller, stronger, and much faster than the average Ter-
ran, let alone the zerg, and their armor was proof
against at least glancing blows from zerg claws while
their energy blades could cut through the tough zerg
hide with ease. In a fair fight, the protoss would win
easily. But right now they were severely outnum-
bered, the zerg using that advantage to swamp the pro-
toss, three or four zerg attacking each warrior. Almost
half the protoss were down already, and it would not
be long before the rest followed.
Raynor wished there were something he could do.
He liked the protoss—well, at least he admired and
respected them. And he needed all the allies he could
get these days. There had to be some way to even the
odds. But that would require heavy equipment, which
was back at the camp, or high explosives, which they
used sparingly, and—
At the thought of explosives Raynor whipped his
head back around to stare at the zerg fighters, particu-
larly those overlords. That was it, he realized. The cer-
ebrate who answered to Kerrigan, the new, namless
one, lacked Daggoth’s or even Zasz’s experience. This
new cerebrate hadn’t known to keep his forces well
apart, particularly the airborne ones.
Raynor drew his pistol and steadied it on a rock
before him. He took careful aim, letting his breath in
slowly and letting it out again just as slowly, lined up
the sights—
—and fired.

202 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


He let loose with three rapid bursts, not sure that
would be enough. But it was.
The first shot struck the farthest overlord, causing it
to writhe in pain. His second burst missed because of
the creature’s motion but the third hit right near the
first, widening its already gaping wound. Stunned by
the sudden attack from nowhere, the overlord reeled
back, unable to control its flight—
—and slammed into the overlord beside it.
Crushing the resting scourge between them.
The explosion threw Raynor back, his pistol slam-
ming into his cheek and leaving him with a ringing
head and a throbbing face. But the devastation on the
plateau was far worse. The scourge were the zerg’s sui-
cide bombers, bred to explode upon impact. They det-
onated with enough force to destroy a shuttle or a
fighter craft, and a handful of them could breach a
starship hull. This had been a row of them, the explo-
sion from the first adding to the impact on the others,
and there was nothing here but flesh and bone. And
the hard rock of the plateau reflected the blast back up,
causing even more damage to those stuck upon it.
The zerg caught the worst of it. There were more of
them, and they had less outward protection than the
armored protoss. Zerglings were shredded by the explo-
sion, as were the other two overlords. The mutalisks
and hydralisks and ultralisks had thicker hides, but still
those closest to the blast were torn apart, while those
farther away were battered and bruised and broken.
Not that the protoss escaped unscathed. The explo-

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 203

sion caught them by surprise as well, and several of
them were hurled from the plateau, smashing into the
rocks below. Those closest to the blast center were
shredded, armor and flesh both, and all of them were
tossed about like leaves on a strong wind.
Not even Kerrigan escaped.
Her back had been to her brood, all her attention
focused on her captive, and the blast had caught her
full force, knocking her to her knees, her wings lancing
forward like a spider’s legs to keep her from being
smashed into the rock.
The movement had released Tassadar, who had also
been tossed back but had caught himself with one
hand on the plateau’s lip. He hung there a moment,
then swung the other arm up and, with an impressive
heave, flipped forward, uncoiling as he did so he
landed standing and facing the chaos.
For an instant the Executor studied the scene, his
eyes flicking up once to where Raynor had crawled
back to the ledge to watch what happened. He thought
he saw Tassadar nod at him. Then the High Templar
must have signaled his troops, because those warriors
still alive and mobile grabbed up their fallen comrades
and sprinted to the edge. For another second they
paused there, silhouetted against the rocks beyond.
Then as one the protoss dove forward, disappearing
into the gorge below.
“No!” Kerrigan howled, wings flexing and thrusting
her back to her feet. She was staring at the spot where
Tassadar had stood before he jumped. “You cannot

204A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


escape me so easily, little Templar!” And she ran to the
edge, wings flapping behind her, and leaped off, half-
gliding and half-falling as she pursued her quarry.
Her brood, those who had survived, gathered them-
selves and followed her, climbing or jumping or flying
down as necessary. In a moment they were gone, and
Raynor was left alone again, looking out on the devas-
tation he had caused.
“Not bad for a day’s work,” he admitted, grinning as
he rubbed gingerly at the bruise along his cheek. He’d
saved the Executor’s life, at least for the moment, and
several of his warriors as well. If that didn’t buy him
some points with them nothing would. He wanted to
collapse for a while—he was still exhausted from run-
ning after Kerrigan, and now he was battered from the
explosion as well. But he knew he had to keep the
brood in his sights.
“Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself, holstering his
pistol and climbing to his feet. Then, with a sigh, he
began picking his way as fast as he could down to the
plateau and to the gorge below, straining eyes and ears
for any hint of the aliens he was determined to follow.

CHAPTER 13




FORTUNATELY FOR RAYNOR, KERRIGAN WAS NOT
interested in concealing her whereabouts. Quite the
opposite, in fact—she wanted Tassadar to know she
was coming for him. Somehow she had summoned
reinforcements, most likely claiming zerg from other
broods, and her overlords and mutalisks and scourge
flew overhead like vultures circling a kill, making it
very easy to locate her.
Unfortunately, she was also moving very quickly.
Far more quickly than an unarmored Terran could
manage. Raynor again cursed himself for not wearing
powered armor, and assured himself that he wouldn’t
make that mistake twice.
As it was, he found himself chasing the brood that
was chasing the protoss, knowing he wouldn’t be able
to catch up until they stopped. Which meant he would
probably reach them after the fight was over. He
wasn’t sure what point there was to arriving so late on
the scene, but felt compelled to follow anyway. Maybe

206A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Tassadar could hold his own long enough for Raynor
to arrive, though he wasn’t sure what a single pistol
could do if a unit of protoss warriors were in trouble.
He doubted Kerrigan or her cerebrate subordinate
would fall for the same trick twice. But he knew he
had to watch what happened. Maybe it was just that,
despite everything, he still felt a need to be close to
Kerrigan and to keep an eye on her. Or maybe he felt
someone should at least witness her atrocities.
Kerrigan was fast but so were the protoss, and Tas-
sadar had apparently decided that he needed time to
regroup and to study what he’d learned so far. The
Executor and his troops had vanished, leaving Kerri-
gan to howl with rage and scrape her claws and wings
against the surrounding rocks, leaving deep gouges in
their surface. Raynor could hear her shrieks two val-
leys away, and slowed his pace. This wouldn’t be a
good time to burst in on her and her brood, not when
they were so clearly out for blood. In the absence of
their real quarry they would probably take him as an
acceptable substitute.
As he picked his way over the rocks, however, the
howls and curses suddenly stopped. Had he been spot-
ted somehow? He thought he was too far away for the
overlords and other airborne zerg to notice, but he
wasn’t exactly sure how good their vision was. He flat-
tened himself against a rock anyway, and then froze,
listening hard.
“What have we here?” It was Kerrigan, and she was
all but purring now. Damn! That had to mean she’d

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S207

spotted prey, and he didn’t think it was Tassadar.
Raynor’s hand edged toward his pistol. If the brood did
come after him he’d take down as many as he could.
Not that it would make much difference, but at least
he wouldn’t die feeling useless.
“Not the Templar, no,” Kerrigan was saying to her-
self, and the scrape of bone on rock indicated that she
was moving. Were the sounds getting louder, or was
that just his imagination? “But equally as good,” she
decided. Raynor could hear her delight.
“Come out, little one,” she purred now. “Come out
and play. My brood is hungry for blood, and yours calls
to us. Come out, little protoss. Show me why you
smell different from your kin.”
Protoss? Raynor let out a sigh. It wasn’t him after
all. But wait—smelled different? That had to be the
other protoss he’d seen, the strange one that had killed
Zasz.
Zeratul.
The scraping continued but was no longer getting
louder, and Raynor risked stepping away from the
boulder and glancing around. The zerg were still one
valley over. He crawled up the hill, cursing softly as he
put his hand too close to a steam vent, and paused near
the top, using a small boulder for cover.
Kerrigan was standing down below, in the narrow
rock basin of the valley. Her zerg were all around her,
chittering angrily about the delay and excitedly about
the prospect of new prey. He could see them clearly
from here and could easily make out Kerrigan’s wings,

208 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


which were curling and uncurling with barely con-
tained glee. She was facing a cavern at the valley’s
edge, and it seemed her words were directed toward
that dark space.
Raynor saw nothing, but after a moment Kerrigan
nodded. “Do not bother to cloak yourself, little pro-
toss,” she warned the empty air. “For I can sense you
though I cannot see you. Show yourself to me.”
Zeratul appeared before her, not forty paces away,
his Dark Templar behind him. They must have used
the same trick Raynor had seen them do before, when
they went after Zasz, blending into their surround-
ings. It hadn’t fooled Kerrigan, but the Dark Templar
didn’t look too concerned. In fact, Zeratul nodded at
her as he stepped forward, a gesture that spoke of
respect for an equal.
“Greetings, o Queen of the Zerg,” the protoss
intoned, his words echoing in Raynor’s head. Just as
before there was something dry and brittle about
them, but at the same time they hummed with
restrained power. “I am Zeratul, Praetor of the Dark
Templar.” He actually bowed to her, a deep, graceful
bow from the waist, which seemed to amuse Kerrigan.
“Your coming has been foretold.”
“Has it?” she asked, and even from here Raynor
could see the smile on her lips just as easily as he heard
it in her voice. “And what do they say of me, Praetor?”
“You are a part of the culmination,” the protoss
replied. “But not the end of it.” His eyes glowed
brightly, and Kerrigan seemed almost transfixed by

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S209

them. Her entire brood was motionless, held in thrall
by the Praetor’s gaze and words. “You shall show the
way, the path that must be taken, the realigning of old
truths no longer valid,” he intoned, and to Raynor it
sounded as if the protoss was reading from a text
somewhere, or reciting holy scripture. “Yours is not
the hand, but your very existence provides necessary
instruction.”
“The culmination,” Kerrigan repeated. She raised
her hands and stared at them, fingers fully extended,
claws glistening in the fading sunset light. “And these
are not the hands.” Then she glanced up at Zeratul and
her smile returned, widening into a predatory grin.
“But even if these are not the hands, Praetor, at least
they will be the culmination of your life.” Then she
was moving, bounding forward and swiping outward
with both hands as if tearing apart a curtain—or a
body.
Any human would have been ripped to shreds by
the oncoming attack, Raynor knew, and he shuddered.
For that matter, he suspected most protoss would have
been carved open just as easily, Kerrigan’s claws pierc-
ing their thick hide and glittering armor like tissue
paper. Zeratul’s flesh seemed no different, and no
more protected.
But he was not there when her blows arrived.
Instead he had twisted away, dancing back in a
strange shadowy blur, and from his wrists projected
those glittering green blades he had used to end Zasz.
“So be it,” he announced, his words ringing across

210 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


the rocks and making several zerg crumple to the
ground, writhing. “We shall battle.”
And then the battle began.
As with Kerrigan and Tassadar, Raynor saw two sep-
arate fights overlaid, the combatants matched in loca-
tion and position but not in their actions. He was dimly
aware that the zerg had been freed from their paralysis
when Kerrigan attacked and that they were battling
the other Dark Templar, but his eyes stayed locked on
the two leaders and their private duel. Even the other
zerg stayed clear of that conflict, respecting their mis-
tress’s wish for an undisturbed fight.
Zeratul sprang toward her, flipping over her as he
approached, his blades stabbing downward. Her wings
blocked the strike, however, fanning over her head so
their spikes caught his blades and shoved them away.
Then her wings snapped up, the tips poised to pierce
him on both sides. But Zeratul twisted, and they could
not find purchase as he sailed past. He landed behind
her, pivoting to face her, arms raised and ready.
The sun slipped just below the horizon now, and the
shadows lengthened, one of them enveloping the
Praetor. The darkness thickened around him, wrap-
ping over him protectively until only his glowing eyes
could be seen clearly. Raynor strained to pierce that
shroud and could just make out the Praetor’s blades as
patches of dim light, a marginally weaker shadow
against the whole.
If the shadows bothered Kerrigan, she gave no sign
of it. Instead she spun toward her foe, her wings lash-

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S211

ing out again, carving open the darkness as they
struck. An unwholesome yellowish glow had sprung
up around her, enveloping every spur and spike and
talon, and that glow chased away the darkness, leaving
streaks of normal twilight amid the shadow.
Zeratul was not idle, however. He skirted his oppo-
nent, edging through the darkness, but the shadows
did seem to confuse Kerrigan, who did not react to his
changed position. When he was parallel to her he
struck again, one arm sweeping down and the other
up to trap her uppermost wing-blade between them.
Kerrigan screamed with rage and pain as the blow
connected. Her wings reacted of their own accord,
flexing, and Zeratul was knocked aside. He stumbled
back, almost losing his footing, but recovered. The
wings stabbed toward him, their tips aiming for his
glowing eyes, and he barely blocked them, both blades
rising and crossing each other. He caught the lowest
wing-blade in that intersection and forced it up,
sweeping the others along with it. Then, when his
arms were fully extended and the wing high above his
head, Zeratul whipped both arms up and around, driv-
ing his blades toward Kerrigan’s unprotected torso.
He had not reckoned with her other wing, however.
Kerrigan turned to face him, her second wing curling
protectively around her, and Zeratul’s blades glanced
harmlessly off them. Then they flared outward, the
tips angling down to pierce his extended arms. Raynor
felt the Praetor shudder with pain and knew the pro-
toss had bitten back a telepathic scream.

212 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


Now Kerrigan’s other wing descended as well,
piercing the Praetor’s shoulder, and he was pinned
between her wings, unable to free his arms enough to
raise his blades. Blood dripped from the puncture
points as Kerrigan lifted him up, held securely
between her wings and stretched sideways before her.
“You fight well, little protoss,” she admitted, idly
running one finger along the wing he had struck
before and licking off the blood or ichor that coated it.
“Better than your Executor counterpart. But I am the
Queen of Blades!” She leaned in so their faces were
inches apart. “You cannot best me!”
“Battles are not fought by strength alone,” the pro-
toss told her, no longer struggling against her wings.
“You are powerful, yes, but not invincible.”
“I have beaten you,” she pointed out, and Zeratul
chuckled in reply, his body shaking slightly from the
laughter. If moving like that with her wing-tips embed-
ded in his flesh hurt, the Praetor gave no indication.
“You have won this battle, yes,” he agreed. “But this
was merely our first encounter. The next may go dif-
ferently.”
“Next?” Kerrigan regarded him curiously, and
Raynor could read her puzzlement. She had the protoss
pinned and helpless, primed for the kill. “What ‘next’?
Your life is over, little protoss,” she said, dragging one
claw across his cheek and carving a thin furrow in the
thick skin there. “I have but to move and you will be no
more.” She glanced behind her, and Raynor looked
around as well, seeing the rest of the valley for the first

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S213

time since the battle had started. The floor was littered
with zerg bodies, but here and there a protoss lay
among them as well. Zeratul had started with perhaps a
hundred Dark Templar. Now he had maybe half that
number, and they were badly outnumbered.
“Your forces are overmatched,” Kerrigan pointed
out, turning to glance at Zeratul again. “My brood will
destroy the last of them, just as I will slay you. Char
will be rid of your Dark Templar, and you with them.
Tell me, then, where and how will this next encounter
take place? The protoss equivalent of Heaven?”
Zeratul seemed unfazed by his situation, or that of
his troops. “You are overconfident,” he warned his
captor. “Such a fault is common in the young and
powerful. It leads to dangerous assumptions, however,
and in those assumptions you expose yourself.”
Now Kerrigan’s smile turned to a frown, and she
bared her teeth. “Do not lecture me!” she shouted,
spittle flying from her mouth—Raynor noticed that
several drops struck her protoss captive and burned
into his skin. “I am no weakling, no youth untrained in
the arts of war! I am the Queen of Blades! And I am
your death!”
Her wings plunged toward one another, intent
upon skewering Zeratul between them.
But just as she moved, the darkness, held at bay by
her glow and by the last glimmer of the setting sun,
descended upon them like a heavy blanket. Zeratul van-
ished within its embrace, utterly consumed by the night.
And Kerrigan’s wing-blades clattered against one

214A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


another as they collided, unimpeded by the body they
had held not an instant before.
“No!” Kerrigan’s scream was loud enough to echo
across the landscape and shrill enough to shatter stone.
Raynor clutched at his ears, sure blood was dripping
from them, but unable to look away from the scene
below. How had Zeratul done that? One second he had
been pinned like a fly by a spider; the next he was
gone.
Or was he? Raynor thought he saw a faint flicker
within the shadows next to Kerrigan, tiny specks that
might have been the Praetor’s eyes. Just below those
he thought he saw a second, longer flicker, like Zer-
atul’s energy blades, though perhaps that was just his
eyes playing tricks on him. What he did see, however,
was the rest of the Dark Templar fading back into the
shadows after their leader, leaving the zerg alone on
the battlefield, stabbing at shadows and coming up
empty. The protoss had vanished into the night. Even
their fallen warriors were gone, spirited away by the
others. It was as if the fight had never occurred, save
for the evidence of the zerg bodies piled here and there
upon the ground.
“You protoss are cowards!” Kerrigan shouted, wings
flaring up behind her. Their tips still glistened with Zer-
atul’s blood. “I have bested both of you, and both of
you have fled like frightened dogs! Stand and fight me!
Face your defeat and your death like true warriors!”
But her words received no reply. Enraged, she turned
and attacked a nearby rock, her wings slicing into it

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 215

and then wrenching free, shattering the boulder in a
cloud of dust and rock chips. Even that did not slake
her rage, however, and as she turned toward her brood
several of them shrank back, cowed by their mistress’s
bloodlust. Raynor ducked back as well, glad he was
safe up on the hilltop. Even if she spotted him he could
run and probably disappear into the next valley before
her brood could reach him. At least he hoped so.
Kerrigan continued to curse her protoss opponents,
insulting their honor and courage, but if she hoped to
incite them to attack it did not work. After railing for
several minutes and scoring the valley walls with her
claws, she gave up. As she stood there, chest heaving
from her exertions, hands clenched into fists, wings
raised behind her, Raynor thought she had never been
more beautiful. Or more deadly.
“What shall we do now, mistress?” one of the over-
lords asked, drifting closer but wisely staying beyond
the range of her wings, and Raynor knew it was the
cerebrate asking through his minion.
“We hunt,” she snarled back. “Char is ours. These
protoss cannot hide forever. We will find them and we
will kill them all. Then we will display their bodies
from the highest peak, that all might know what hap-
pens to anyone who crosses me!”
“Which shall we target first?” the overlord asked. “The
ones who just escaped or the ones we fought earlier?”
“We hunt them both,” Kerrigan replied, a small smile
touching her lips. “Summon the rest of the brood,” she
instructed, her wings curling around her again like

216 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


a cloak. “Summon them all. We will sweep across
this world and annihilate any who stand against us.”
She glanced upward, directly at Raynor, and he knew
she was talking to him. She knew he was there! And she
was telling him that he and his people were just as much
a target as the protoss.
I’ve got to get out of here, Raynor realized, shifting
back behind the boulder. I’ve got to get back to base
and warn the others. We need to get ready. Kerrigan’s
just declared war on us all.
But before he could move, he heard an unwelcome
sound. Chittering and clacking and hissing, the sound
of spikes and claws rubbing against rock and taloned
feet scrabbling on stone. The zerg were coming. And
they were coming from the next valley over, directly
toward him.
Kerrigan and her zerg were in front of him, and
reinforcements were coming at him from behind. He
was trapped!

CHAPTER 14




RAYNOR LOOKED AROUND FOR ANY SORT OF
cover. But the hill had little to offer beyond the rock he
was already using. As on most of Char, the ground
here had been subjected to countless lava flows from
the volcanoes that dotted the landscape, and the hill
was still covered by thick layers that resembled hard-
ened syrup. The material was not particularly strong—
more than once he’d put his boot through it while
trying to climb—and out of desperation he drew his
pistol and began using the butt to break a hole through
the lava right by the boulder. In a few minutes he had
carved out a small gap, exposing a slightly larger
pocket below it, and wedged himself inside. Curled
into a ball, he just fit, his head an inch below the rest
of the hill. The boulder cast its shadow down upon
him, which he hoped would help. Then there was
nothing he could do but wait, and pray to anyone he
thought might listen.

218A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


The sounds of the zerg grew louder as they
approached, and he tried to push himself farther into
the ground, sure that at any moment one of the brood
would spot him and alert the rest. Then they’d dig him
out of the ground like a carrot in his mother’s garden
and—he cut the thought off before it could explore the
gruesome possibilities.
Now the zerg were on the hill itself, and he was sure
he felt the lava around him trembling from their
weight and motion. He didn’t dare move his head and
tried to ignore the prickling at the back of his neck that
warned him he’d already been spotted.
“Cerebrate,” he heard one of the zerg hiss, and the
voice was uncomfortably close, “what is that, over
there? By the—”
“Daggoth!” The shout cut off the zerg’s question,
and Raynor recognized the voice instantly. Kerrigan.
She was still in the valley, from the way the sound
echoed. “Greetings, Cerebrate! Come and speak with
me, you and all your brood. I have strange tidings.”
“As do I, Queen of Blades,” the cerebrate replied.
There was a strange reverberation to his voice, and
Raynor realized that Daggoth was talking through an
overlord somewhere on the hill. Of course the massive
creature could not travel across Char’s surface itself. “I
and mine shall attend you.”
The chittering and hissing and clattering increased,
ringing in Raynor’s ears, and then dulled as the brood
climbed over the hill and down into the valley below.
He couldn’t believe his luck. That zerg had spotted

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S219

him, he was sure of it, and it had been about to reveal
his location to the others. Kerrigan had saved him. He
felt a strange tug at his heart as he slowly unfolded
from his hole and crept back onto the lava’s surface,
still sheltered by the boulder. Had she known he was
there? Was her timing simply a happy accident, or had
it been intentional?
He peered into the valley again. It was filled to burst-
ing with zerg now as Kerrigan’s and Daggoth’s broods
mingled. Kerrigan herself still stood near the center, and
Daggoth’s overlord hovered not far from her.
“Tassadar is not the only Templar on Char,” Kerrigan
informed Daggoth, her wings twitching as if impatient
to resume the hunt. “There is another, Zeratul.” She
paused. “He is different,” she admitted after a moment,
her brows furrowing in thought. “Different from Tas-
sadar and from any protoss I have heard of, indeed from
any the zerg have encountered before. More powerful,
but darker, much darker.” Then she grinned. “Still, he
was no match for me. Only guile saved him, and it will
not again. We need—”
“Hold, o Queen,” Daggoth interrupted, and even
from here Raynor saw Kerrigan’s eyes narrow. She’d
never liked having people cut her off and obviously
that hadn’t changed. “There are more important mat-
ters at hand than your pursuit of these protoss.”
Her wings curled slightly but Kerrigan showed no
other sign of her anger. “What matters, Daggoth?” Her
tone was barely polite, but there was more civility in it
than she had bothered to offer Zasz. It was clear she

220 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


respected this cerebrate far more than the other zerg
she had dealt with thus far.
“There is the matter of Zasz’s death,” Daggoth
pointed out. “None before have accomplished such a
feat, severing a cerebrate’s ties to the Overmind. We
must assay how this was done that we may guard
against it in future.”
Kerrigan nodded. “Yes, this matter is one of great
concern. What have we learned of the event?”
“The Overmind itself it studying the matter,” Dag-
goth replied. “Hence its recent silence. Soon it will speak
to us once again and unravel this mystery for us.” His
voice shifted, becoming more serene, even satisfied. “As
for Zasz’s brood, they are no longer a threat.”
“Good.” But Kerrigan was still focused on the pro-
toss she had been pursuing. “And what of the protoss
ship?”
“We have eliminated them,” Daggoth assured her,
earning a sharp look. Was that surprise on Kerrigan’s
face?
“‘Them’?” she asked, but then she nodded. “Ah yes,
of course. These new protoss did not arrive with Tas-
sadar, thus they had their own ship.”
“Both craft have been destroyed,” Daggoth repeated,
and Raynor fought back a stab of panic. He’d been
counting on convincing Tassadar to give them a lift off
this ashball. Now the protoss were stuck here too! And
even Zeratul was stranded—the only people who could
leave now were the zerg!
As he was pondering his drastically reduced options,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S221

Raynor heard a strange thrum fill the air. Every zerg in
the valley went utterly silent in an instant, all but the
overlords going still as well. In the calm Raynor thought
he could hear steam venting from somewhere nearby,
and the distant roar of a volcanic eruption.
Then the silence was shattered by a voice, that hor-
rible, oily voice that slid through his head and sent
shivers through his bones, the one that caused his eyes
to roll back and his throat to seize up. It was the zerg
ruler, the Overmind.
“Behold,” it called out, its words making the rocks
tremble, “my long silence is now broken, and I am
made whole once more!” Its exultation was almost
unbearable, and Raynor sank to his knees, head
clasped in his hands. “The cunning protoss have dared
strike down that which was immortal,” the Overmind
stated, each word a clear pronouncement of doom for
such audacity. “For the protoss who murdered Zasz are
unlike anything we have faced before. These Dark
Templar radiate energies that are much like my own.
And it is by these energies that they have caused me
harm.” Now Raynor understood, through his own
pain, why the Overmind sounded so outraged. The
loss of a zerg, any zerg, was inconsequential. But the
attack on Zasz had hurt the Overmind as well, and for
that it was furious.
The zerg below shared its fury, and despite their
continued stillness Raynor could feel the tension
welling up from the valley. When the Overmind
released them they would burst into a killing frenzy.

222 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


He knew he’d have to be far away by that point or risk
being their first victim.
“Yet,” the Overmind continued, and suddenly its
tone changed from rage back to joy, “yet shall their
overweening pride be their downfall!” Even Raynor
listened intently, curious but dreading to learn what
could have made the zerg leader so excited. “For when
the assassin, Zeratul, murdered Zasz,” the Overmind
announced, “his mind touched with mine, and all his
secrets were made known to me.” Now the Over-
mind’s voice soared, its sheer power driving a spike
through Raynor’s head and causing blood to run out
his ears and nose. “I have taken from his mind the
secret location of Aiur—the protoss homeworld!”
Even the zerg below seemed confused by this,
though Raynor could feel their excitement as well.
Whatever made the Overmind happy made them
happy, and right now the Overmind was ecstatic.
Fortunately the Overmind was quick to explain the
cause of its glee. “At long last, my children,” it told the
assembled zerg, “our searching is done. Soon we shall
assault Aiur directly!”
And now Raynor understood. He had known from
the first encounter on Mar Sara that the protoss hated
the zerg with a consuming passion. It had never
occurred to him that the feeling might be mutual, but
apparently it was. The zerg hated the protoss right
back, or at least the Overmind did—and all this time
he’d been hunting for the protoss homeworld so he
could attack it and destroy them once and for all. And

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 223

now, thanks to Zeratul’s attack, the Overmind knew its
location.
Raynor wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. On
the one hand, anything that turned the zerg away
from humanity was a good thing. And the protoss had
shown themselves capable of fighting off the zerg—
what could an entire world of Tassadars and Zeratuls
accomplish, especially when fighting on their home
ground? On the other hand, the protoss would not be
expecting an attack at home, and the zerg would
appear without warning. He was sure the Overmind
would send all his broods there at once, and he
couldn’t imagine that the protoss had the numbers to
match the full Swarm. If the zerg wiped out the pro-
toss, who would stand against them then? Who would
protect humanity from their continued invasion?
Not that there was anything he could do about it.
And not like he didn’t have his own problems.
“Prepare yourself, my Swarm,” the Overmind
instructed. “We shall depart for Aiur at once.”
“I wish to remain behind, father.” It was Kerrigan
who spoke, not surprisingly, though even her own zerg
seemed startled at her insolence. “I have unfinished
business with the High Templar Tassadar, and with this
Zeratul.”
“I would have you at the forefront of this invasion,
my daughter,” the Overmind told her, and though its
words were gentle, the command behind them was
unmistakable. Still Kerrigan was not cowed.
“I am honored, father,” she replied, “and would

224A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


gladly participate in any capacity you deem appropri-
ate. But surely someone must punish these protoss for
daring to set foot upon our world, and for striking
down our brother.” She looked almost sorry about
Zasz’s death, and Raynor couldn’t help but admire her
skill. She was playing the role perfectly. “I would be
that avenging hand, father. Give me leave to finish this
matter and then join the Swarm on Aiur.”
For an instant the silence stretched across the valley,
and everyone, Raynor included, waited with bated
breath to hear the Overmind’s reply.
“Very well,” it said finally, and the tension faded at
once. “You may remain here, my daughter, to handle
this matter. Upon its conclusion, however, I will expect
you on Aiur to take over the leadership of our cam-
paign there.”
Kerrigan bowed, her wings sweeping down to brush
the ground. “It shall be as you command, father,” she
replied, her voice that of the obedient servant, though
the smile on her face showed that she had gotten
exactly what she wanted.
The thrum vanished, leaving Raynor gasping with
relief as the pressure in his head faded, and the zerg
below began moving once more.
“Will you require assistance in your quest?” Daggoth
asked Kerrigan through his overlord. Something in the
tone suggested that he already knew her answer.
“My thanks, noble Daggoth,” she replied, “but I am
more than capable of destroying these meddlesome
protoss myself.” She nodded toward his overlord. “You

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S225

may rejoin the rest of the Swarm and prepare for the
departure to Aiur.” It was an obvious dismissal.
The cerebrate did not take offense, or if he did he
concealed his emotions well. “Very well” was all he
said as his brood gathered itself behind his overlord.
Raynor crouched, ready to duck back into his hole if
necessary, but Daggoth’s zerg turned toward the oppo-
site side of the valley instead and he relaxed. “May
your hunt prove fruitful,” the cerebrate called back as
his brood disappeared into the valleys beyond. “And
may you join us quickly in our attack on the hated
protoss homeworld.”
“I do not join,” Kerrigan muttered, watching the
other brood’s departure. “I lead.” Her words were soft,
but loud enough for Raynor to hear.
“Now,” Kerrigan called out after the last of Dag-
goth’s zerg were gone from sight, “the hunt contin-
ues.” She turned, scanning the hill, and for an instant
her eyes pierced Raynor where he watched. “My prey
will never know what hit them.” Raynor had the sink-
ing feeling she wasn’t referring to the protoss.
Enough of this, he thought. Moving quickly, he
crawled backward down the hill until he was sure
he couldn’t be seen by the zerg in the valley. Then he
turned and half-ran, half-skidded the rest of the way,
hitting the ground at the hill’s base hard enough to go
tumbling. He righted himself quickly and broke out into
a dead run, heading straightaway from the zerg as fast
as he could manage. He’d seen plenty, and had learned
even more today. It was time to get the hell out of here,

226 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


before his luck ran out and they came for him as well.
All this information wouldn’t do him and his crew
much good if he got killed before he could tell them
about it.
As he ran Raynor considered everything that had
happened today. He’d seen both Tassadar and Zeratul go
up against Kerrigan—and seen both protoss lose. He’d
seen things he wasn’t sure were real but didn’t think
were hallucinations, either, things that made no sense
but felt right. He’d learned more about the zerg, their
leaders’ immortality, and their newfound weakness.
And he’d found out what the zerg wanted most: the
location and destruction of the protoss homeworld.
He’d also found out, unfortunately, that both pro-
toss ships had been destroyed. Maybe they could be
repaired. Maybe, he mused, the parts from one could
be used on the other! The zerg weren’t tech-minded—
they probably hadn’t paid much attention to parts as
they attacked the ships. They might have done only
superficial damage, or missed the vital components,
like the engines. It was worth checking out.
Of course, that meant talking to the protoss. Both
groups. And while Raynor thought Tassadar would at
least hear him out, he wasn’t sure about Zeratul. Some-
thing about the Dark Templar scared him a bit, like the
ghost stories he’d heard as a child. But then, the zerg
were worse than any horror tale, and they were plenty
real. He’d gladly work with another, lesser nightmare to
get himself and his people safely away from the Swarm.
But first, he had to find them.

CHAPTER 15




“SO ALL THE ZERG ARE GONE?”
That was the first thing Cavez asked after Raynor told
him and Abernathy what he’d seen. Which he had not
been able to do until the following evening, because by
the time he’d dragged himself back to base it was morn-
ing, and he’d collapsed in his tent. He was just glad he’d
made it inside first—the last mile or so it was all he
could do to keep placing one foot in front of the other.
Hell, it was all he could do to keep breathing. He’d slept
like the dead for the rest of the day, waking up only
once when someone set a canteen of water and a tray of
food just outside the tent flap. By the time the sun had
gone down he’d felt almost human again, and he’d
taken only enough time to splash water on his face
before finding his two lieutenants. He hadn’t even
dreamed, he’d been so tired, and he was surprised to
realize that he was disappointed. The images of him and
Kerrigan, so happy together in a life that could never
exist, were deeply frustrating, yes, but at the same time

228 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


so comforting that he hated missing an opportunity to
experience them again, however fleetingly.
“Almost all,” he corrected Cavez now. They were
inside the shuttle again and he was leaning against one
wall, a cup of steaming coffee cradled in his hands. The
smell and the warmth were as welcome as the quick
energy boost. He didn’t sit down, because he couldn’t
trust himself to get back up again. “We’ve still got one
brood to worry about,” he reminded them. “And
they’re only interested in one thing—killing every
non-zerg on this rock.”
“But they’re after the protoss, right?” Abernathy
asked from where she was perched on a seat. “That’s
what you said—they want the protoss dead.”
“They’re gunning for the protoss, sure,” Raynor
agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they’ll leave us alone.
Figure if they see both us and the protoss they’ll go for
the protoss, but if we’re all they see they’ll happily set-
tle for us.”
“We’ve got the combat armor,” Cavez pointed out.
“We can hold our own in a fight. And if it’s only one
brood we won’t have to worry about reinforcements.
We can whittle them down, wipe them out.”
“That we could,” Raynor agreed. “But what would
it cost? How many would we lose?” He shook his head.
“I’d rather get us off this ashball without a fight, if I
can.” He took a quick sip of his scalding coffee, then
grinned. “Of course, if we have to fight we’re gonna
kick some butt.”
“What do we do now, sir?” Abernathy looked wor-

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S229

ried, and Raynor didn’t blame her. She was a good sol-
dier and a competent leader, but going up against
uncertainties was always tough. Raynor had seen
plenty of this before. Give a soldier a weapon and a tar-
get and he was good to go. But tell him something
vague like “Prove your worth” or “Protect this land”
and he ran into trouble. Soldiers needed specifics, who
and what and where and when. And unfortunately
Raynor didn’t have that to offer. But he hadn’t been a
soldier—he’d been a marshal. He’d had to think on his
feet and work with loose definitions and create his
own specifics. He could do that again.
“Go over all our gear, all our supplies, all our
weapons and armor,” he told them now. “Start stockpil-
ing food and water, but nothing we can’t carry. Break
down what we’ve got into small parcels and assign each
one to a trooper. I want us ready and able to ditch this
camp at a moment’s notice.” It might come to that, he
knew. If the zerg spotted the shuttle they’d converge on
it, and even with the armor he and his men couldn’t
handle an entire brood. They’d be better off leaving this
place behind and disappearing into the mountains or
the hills or the valleys, just as the protoss had.
The protoss. That was the second priority, right after
keeping his crew safe. “We need to find those protoss,”
he said, thinking out loud. “Doesn’t matter which of
them we find, though I’d rather it was Tassadar. I’ve
met him already, and maybe he’s not the friendliest
guy in the world but he didn’t shoot me, either. That
counts for something.” He grinned at Cavez and Aber-

230A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


mathy. “Can’t just steal their ships, especially not
when they outnumber us. We’ll ask for a ride instead.”
“Both of their ships were destroyed,” Cavez reminded
him.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Raynor replied. “We’ll need to
check each one out, see just how badly it’s been beat.
We might be able to salvage some parts.”
“Even if those ships are crippled,” Abernathy said,
“we might be able to jury-rig their engines to work on
our shuttle.”
They all glanced around them, considering the small
craft. It had survived the descent surprisingly well, the
hull still intact. One engine and one wing were gone,
the other engine was badly damaged, but if they could
rig a protoss engine to her she could fly. Maybe.
“It’s worth a try,” Raynor agreed. “First things first.
We look for the protoss and offer to team up.” He
noticed Cavez’s shudder. “Something wrong, son?”
“I just don’t like the thought of teaming with aliens,
sir,” the young lieutenant replied.
“Me either,” Raynor admitted. “But right now we
need help to get off this planet, and I’d sleep with a
rabid dog if I thought it would help.”
“Do you think they’ll help us?” Abernathy asked
him as they stood up and made their way back out of
the shuttle.
“Don’t know,” he admitted to her, downing the rest
of his coffee in a single long gulp. “But I plan to put on
my best manners and ask.”


Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 231

It took Raynor almost a week to locate the protoss
again. They had gone to ground, both groups, evading
Kerrigan and her zerg. Several times Raynor caught a
glimpse of a protoss warrior gliding past along a moun-
tain ledge, or stalking silently past a small volcano, or
racing across the ash deserts. But each time it was only
a glimpse, and when he looked again the protoss was
gone. The zerg were apparently having as little success,
and more than once he heard Kerrigan howling with
rage, or saw score marks where she’d vented her dis-
pleasure on the rocks. He kept his men on full alert,
four men in combat armor on guard at all times.
Raynor had commandeered a suit for himself as well,
and found it much easier now to race around the
planet hunting the elusive aliens.
Finally, as he was perched atop one of the taller
mountains scanning the horizon, a small splash of
color caught Raynor’s eye. Focusing on that area, he
used the armor’s targeting system to isolate and
enhance the image. As he watched, the tiny splash
magnified, details appearing until he could see it
clearly. It was a protoss warrior, and the color he had
noticed was the blue-white gleam of the armored
shoulders. Now, though, he could see the blue color
below that, and the blue cloth covering the groin. It
was Tassadar.
“Gotcha,” Raynor whispered. He leaped down from
his peak, the armor’s servos absorbing the shock easily,
and bounded toward the Executor, who was now
locked into his targeting system. The armor allowed

232 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Raynor to race through the mountains as if he were
merely jogging easily along a beach, and within min-
utes he had closed most of the distance. Every time he
crossed a peak or ridge he glanced toward Tassadar
again, making sure the protoss leader had not moved,
and as he drew closer Raynor saw more and more of
the protoss gathered in the small valley there. He had
apparently found the current Templar camp.
He slowed his pace when he was only one ridge
away, not wanting to startle the protoss. They were
being hunted by the zerg, after all, and would probably
react to any intrusion as a threat. His armor made him
considerably more dangerous, but he wasn’t sure he
was a match for a protoss warrior, even so—certainly
not for all of them at once. Besides, he wasn’t here to
fight. He paused to give himself a minute to think
about what he was doing here. He wanted to talk. Tas-
sadar had reacted to his emotions before, he was sure
of that now, and would probably do the same here. He
still felt a little anger at the protoss for destroying his
ships but most of that had faded. He understood their
reasons, and agreed with them. He’d have done the
same thing. Now he was just determined to get his
people—those who remained—to safety. And he
needed the aliens’ help to do that.
Convinced that he was now calm and as friendly as
he was going to get, Raynor hauled himself up the last
ridge and looked down into the small valley—just in
time to see the last protoss vaulting the peak on the
opposite side. They were gone.

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S233

“Aw, not again!” he muttered. leaping quickly down
into the valley and charging across it. He jumped to the
top of the far peak and saw the Zealots a short ways
ahead of him, clearly on the move. Their energy blades
were not extended and their armor looked the same as
always, but something about their posture, the way
they were moving, convinced Raynor—they were
heading for battle.
“My timing sucks,” he told himself, hurrying along
behind them. He’d wanted to talk, and obviously that
wasn’t going to happen now, not when they were in a
combat mind-set. They’d probably kill him out of
reflex before he could manage a word. He couldn’t
afford to lose sight of them, though—it might take
another week to find them again, and the zerg could
stumble upon his camp at any time. He couldn’t risk
that. So he played the shadowing game, staying just
close enough to watch and tail the protoss but keeping
far enough back that he hoped they wouldn’t notice
him.
Maybe, Raynor thought as he stalked behind them,
he could lend them a hand against the zerg. That might
convince them he was an ally and make them more
inclined to help him. Yeah. The more he thought about
that, the more he liked the idea. He’d been itching to
go up against the zerg now that he had armor again,
anyway, to pay them back for all the men he’d lost
down in the caverns, not to mention the ships. This
would be a good opportunity for that. He could vent
some of his frustrations, show the zerg humans

234A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


weren’t as helpless as they thought, and get in good
with the protoss at the same time. It was a good plan.
And, like most good plans, it didn’t survive contact
with the enemy.
In this case, it was the enemy that was the problem.
Because as Raynor clambered out of one crevice and
saw the protoss warriors slowing as they crossed a
wide plateau before and slightly above him, he also
saw their opponents for the first time.
And it wasn’t the zerg.


“Hail, Tassadar, High Templar and Executor of the
Protoss,” Zeratul called out as his Dark Templar
arrayed themselves around him—he was standing
near the back end of the plateau, facing the way the
Templar had come. The strange protoss’s mental voice
was as dry as ever, but this time it lacked much of the
power it had held when Zeratul had confronted
Kerrigan. At least it didn’t make Raynor’s head ring as
he found himself a good vantage point along the ridge
bordering the plateau and settled back to watch.
“Dark Templar,” Tassadar replied, coming to a halt
several body lengths from his counterpart. His voice
carried a strange hint of—was that disgust? It was dif-
ferent from the tone Raynor heard when Tassadar
spoke to Kerrigan or mentioned the zerg. That had
been more recognizable as hatred. This sounded less
angry but more . . . bitter? “I felt your presence,” Tas-
sadar continued as his own Zealots settled in behind
him, and Raynor noticed that their positions matched

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S235

those of the Dark Templar. He wondered if it was delib-
erate.
“I am Zeratul, Praetor of the Dark Templar,” Zeratul
announced. They were the same words he had used to
introduce himself to Zasz, Raynor remembered, but
how different they sounded now! Then it had been a
declaration of opposition, the bold proclamation of a
warrior facing sworn enemies and daring to toss his
name and rank in their faces. Now it sounded gentler,
almost apologetic. If the protoss were human Raynor
might have thought Zeratul was embarrassed but at
the same time proud of his affiliation.
“I know of your kind,” Tassadar replied, and his dis-
gust was almost palpable. “You are heretics, cast out
from our race. You are considered anathema.” His
warriors tensed behind him, preparing to spring, and
glows sprang up around several of their wrists as they
prepped their energy blades.
But Zeratul held out his hands, palms up and fingers
spread, in a clear gesture of peace. Again it mirrored his
encounter with Zasz, but its meaning seemed entirely
different. Raynor, watching the Praetor speak to Zasz,
had seen the move as a delaying tactic, a chance to find
the right moment to strike. Now it seemed genuine.
“I have no desire to fight you, my brother,” Zeratul
called across the plateau, and Tassadar flinched as if he
had been struck. “Though you despise me, we have no
quarrel. We are allied here, on this world, in this bat-
tle. Our goals are one and the same. Surely you must
see that?”

236 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“I see only another foe,” the Executor growled back,
his hands clenching at his sides. “Another who would
tarnish the legacy of the Templar and sully our honor.”
He raised one fist and his eyes blazed blue, dazzling
even in the sunlight. “Defend yourself!”
And with that the Templar attacked.
It was a strange battle. Raynor had seen the protoss
fight several times now, and from a similar distance.
He had watched Tassadar and his Zealots fight Kerrigan
and her brood and had seen Zeratul do the same. Both
times he had been impressed by the protoss’s speed,
strength, and skill. They were either warriors born or
heavily trained. Either way, he had been awed by
them. Watching the protoss battle the zerg had been
like watching a trained swordsman moving through a
raging mob—the swordsman moved smoothly, grace-
fully, and wielded his blade with precision, while all
around him the mob rampaged mindlessly, using
nothing more than brute force and vast numbers to
overwhelm.
But this time the swordsman faced another swords-
man. Or rather, two bands of swordsmen faced each
other.
It was an amazing display. Raynor was sure he
missed much of it, because the protoss simply moved
too quickly for him to follow. A Zealot would pivot for-
ward, dancing as much as attacking, and his arm
would lash out, blade crackling in the thin air, sparks
appearing as the energy ignited stray bits of ash and
soot. A Dark Templar would float forward to meet the

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S237

attack,spinningaround, one arm swingingup
smoothly, glittering blade extended, and the two ener-
gies would cross, blue and green colliding, shedding
flickers of shadow and brightness in all directions, daz-
zling the eye. Then the two combatants would pull
apart and step away, only to circle and close and strike
again. Not once, that Raynor saw, did a blade connect
with flesh. Each blow was matched by a countermove,
each blade blocked by another blade. This wasn’t
slaughter, or even bloodshed. It was a dance, a display,
a show of skill and talent and art.
It was beautiful. And for someone like Raynor, who
had grown up with harsher realities and rougher tools,
it was a brief glimpse into another world. What would it
be like to be from a race whose combat had become so
stylized, so perfect, that it was poetry to watch? A race
that could fight without wounding, win without killing,
defeat with hurting? He couldn’t even imagine it.
As their warriors battled, the two leaders had
watched, unmoving. “Your warriors are well-trained,”
Tassadar commented after several minutes, his words
halting, as if they had been dragged from him against
his will. Raynor could hear the grudging respect in
them.
“As are yours,” Zeratul replied, returning the com-
pliment more easily. He nodded at his counterpart.
“Surely you see that they move the same, fight the
same, think the same? Our ways are one.” He took a
step closer and his voice dropped, though Raynor
could still hear him clearly. It was as if the Praetor was

238A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


whispering, sharing a friendly secret. “We are but sides
of the coin,” he confided to Tassadar, “our paths differ-
ent but our goals, our very foundation one and the
same. Do you not recognize this truth?”
“Do not attempt to sway me with your lies,” the
Executor countered, taking a step back to maintain the
distance between them. “I have been taught of your
kind, of how you betrayed our race, how your broke
with our people and severed every connection from
us. You turned your back on us, on yourself, on every-
thing that is protoss! You are not one of us!”
“Think past the old tales,” Zeratul urged, taking
another step toward him. “They are but stories created
by your forefathers to explain our departure. Kernels
of truth exist within them, yes, but buried within a
field of deceptions.”
“No!” Tassadar stepped back again, then straight-
ened. “I will not listen to this! You shall not corrupt
me!” And he struck at Zeratul.
The blow was so fast Raynor couldn’t see it fully—
he saw the protoss leader’s arm slam forward in a blur,
fist leveled at the Dark Templar’s chest, but even his
armor’s targeting system couldn’t clarify the image
properly. It was simply too quick, too sudden. He
thought he felt a rush of air from the punch, even here
on his ridge, and knew that the impact would crush
the Praetor’s chest like an eggshell.
But by the time the punch landed, the Praetor was
no longer there.
If Tassadar’s move had been lightning-fast, Zeratul’s

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S239

response was as quick as thought. There was no blur,
no sense of motion—the Praetor was simply two feet
to the left of his former position. It had happened in
less than a blink, and Raynor’s eyes twitched trying to
adjust even as his brain registered the Dark Templar’s
change in position. It hadn’t been an illusion, either,
like the one Tassadar himself had used against Kerri-
gan. Raynor was sure of that, though he couldn’t say
why. He just knew that the Praetor had been facing
Tassadar an instant ago, and now he was off to one
side.
“You strike with force but no focus,” Zeratul warned
Tassadar, and something in his voice told Raynor that
if the protoss had lips and a mouth they would be
curved into a smile right now. “Do not waste yourself
on such useless expenditures. Do not throw away your
energy on uncertainties. Wait until the moment is
truly right, then marshal your strength for the attack.”
“Do not lecture me!” Tassadar roared, his words an
uncanny echo of Kerrigan’s retort to Zeratul during
their battle, shaking his head to clear it. He attacked
again, his moves even faster this time, his strikes more
furious. Not once but three times his fists moved, so
fast they seemed to punch all at once, in a neat row to
the left, to the right, and dead center on the Praetor’s
chest. Raynor understood the logic behind it. The
Executor was hoping to box his opponent in, hitting to
either side to keep him from ducking out of the way
again. He was counting on at least one punch landing.
But none of them did.

240A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Zeratul moved again, sliding to the left before Tas-
sadar’s first blow landed—a move that somehow did
not involve his legs or feet, simply his body’s suddenly
appearing two feet from its previous location. Then he
was back in his former position, as the Executor’s other
two strikes passed harmlessly alongside him.
“Still you attack without concentration,” Zeratul
said, shaking his head slightly. “You use your body
with full force, but not your mind. Why, when it is
your mightiest weapon? Do not lash out with fists
first,” he cautioned, his own hand snaking out and
latching onto Tassadar’s wrist before the Executor
could draw his hand back from his failed attack. “Tar-
get your foe with your mind first,” the Dark Templar
instructed, shadows welling up beneath his fingertips
and wrapping dark bands around Tassadar’s forearm.
“When your mind is locked upon your opponent your
fists may follow, and then they cannot fail to strike.”
The darkness was rising now, sheathing Tassadar’s
arm up to the elbow, and Raynor could almost feel
the Executor’s attempt to jerk away. A spurt of
swirling emotion burst forth from Tassadar, half pain
and half fear, perhaps the first fear the mighty protoss
had ever felt. And then that fear gave way to another
emotion—rage.
“Enough of your confusions!” he roared, the thun-
der crackling beneath his words propelling Zeratul
away from him with an almost palpable force. Tassadar
flexed, blue arcs of energy flaring from his wrists, and
the shadows fell away, shredded by the brilliant light.

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 241

“You speak in riddles to distract me,” he accused the
Praetor, taking a step back and raising both arms, high
over his head, the lightning arcing between them. “But
I will not be swayed!” As Tassadar lowered his arms,
the lightning settled around his wrists, sweeping for-
ward to form blades like those his warriors wielded,
but longer, brighter, and filled with a crackling hum
that made Raynor’s hairs stand on end. These blades
were not contained—or created—by bracers, he knew.
They were a part of Tassadar himself, an expression of
his own power. “Now we will see an end to your lies,”
Tassadar warned, taking one slow step toward his
counterpart. “Once and for all.”
The other protoss had left off their own duels,
watching their leaders battle, and Raynor’s eyes were
locked on the conflict as well. He knew somehow that
this was a match of epic proportions, one that would
become part of protoss history. Assuming any of the
witnesses survived to tell of it.
As he shifted to get a better view, Raynor caught a
speck of movement from the corner of his eye. He
twisted slightly to get a better look, and froze.
“Aw, hell,” he whispered as he registered what he
was seeing. His helmet automatically tracked and mag-
nified the image, making it impossible to ignore.
It was the zerg. Lots of them, probably the entire
brood.
And they were heading this way.
Raynor glanced back at the plateau, where Tassadar
was still stalking toward Zeratul, energy blades

242 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


extended. The protoss were all fixated upon them, too
much so to notice the approaching Swarm. They’d be
slaughtered.
“Well, this ain’t gonna be good,” Raynor muttered
to himself. He levered himself up from his crouch and
leaped forward, the suit’s servos causing him to sail
across the gap between the ridge and the plateau. He
unslung the canister rifle on his back as he moved,
swinging it around and into his hands as he landed,
bending his knees to absorb the impact and taking a
single step forward to keep his balance.
He found himself facing several dozen energy
blades, wielded by several dozen angry protoss.
“Hold on!” Raynor shouted, raising the rifle over his
head with both hands. “I ain’t your enemy! They are!”
He pointed, and many of the protoss turned to gaze
past the plateau—
—just as the first of the mutalisks, guardians, and
devourers swept down upon them.
“To arms!” Tassadar shouted, his feud with Zeratul
instantly shunted to the background. “Regroup, my
Zealots, and we will teach these zerg what it means to
confront the protoss!” His right arm swept up almost
lazily, the energy blade extending even farther as it
arced above his head and sliced the leading devourer in
two, its halves falling to the rock on either side of him.
In an instant the protoss were locked in battle, and
Raynor with them. But right from the start, he could
see how this was going to end.
“There’re too many of them!” he hollered at Tas-

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 243

sadar, shooting down a trio of mutalisks that had been
poised to shred one of the protoss warriors. “We can’t
hold ’em!”
The High Templar either didn’t hear him or didn’t
care, so Raynor turned to Zeratul instead. “We’ve got
to get out of here!” he urged, firing a barrage to take
down a cluster of approaching scourge that exploded
just shy of the plateau, the shock waves almost tossing
all of them off their feet. “When the rest of the brood
gets here we’re gonna be swamped!”
The Dark Templar had not moved since stepping
away from Tassadar, and now he seemed to retreat
into himself as he considered. Finally he nodded.
“The human is correct,” he declared calmly. “This is
not the time for our battle to conclude. We must aban-
don this battlefield and seek a more opportune time to
end this conflict.”
Tassadar heard that one, at least, and turned to stare
at the Praetor, even as his hand caught another
mutalisk and throttled it. “You would flee battle?” he
asked, his eyes wide.
“You would stay and see your people needlessly
slain?” Zeratul countered, and that struck home. Tas-
sadar’s eyes narrowed and he seemed about to attack
the Dark Templar again. Before he could move, how-
ever, the Praetor leaped at him instead.
Raynor was shocked, and so, apparently, was Tas-
sadar—the High Templar froze as Zeratul flew toward
him, both arms extended, a band of writhing, searing
cold darkness forming between them. Raynor started

244A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


to bring his rifle up, but paused. He wasn’t sure why,
but some instinct told him not to interfere.
Before he could blink the Praetor had closed the dis-
tance, his shoulder colliding with Tassadar’s chest and
driving the Executor to the ground—
—as a mutalisk lashed out, its long snakelike tail
scraping acid across Zeratul’s shoulder and chest where
the Executor’s head had been an instant before. Blood
from the resulting wound spattered Praetor and
Executor both, and Zeratul twitched in obvious agony
but refused to topple. He reared up instead, sending
more blood fountaining from the whole in his side,
and pivoted to face his attacker, which had wheeled
about in midair for a second attack. Then the darkness
between the Dark Templar’s hands connected with the
mutalisk’s arcing tail and sliced clean through it as the
mutalisk jerked back, wailing in pain. The effort must
have exhausted the Praetor, however, and he dropped
to his knees in a pool of his own blood. Tassadar was
already up again, having rolled free of Zeratul and
vaulted back to his feet, and he sliced the mutalisk
apart with his blades before helping the wounded Dark
Templar to stand.
For a second the two simply eyed one another, Tem-
plar and Dark Templar, blazing blue eyes and wise
green ones. Then Tassadar’s hand jerked, tearing a long
strip from his uniform, and with it he bound the older
protoss’s wound. A surge of light welled up from his
hands as he worked, and when he removed them the
Praetor’s wound was still severe but no longer spurting

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 245

blood everywhere. Once that was done Tassadar nod-
ded, surprising Raynor.
“You are correct,” the High Templar said. “They
have the advantage of us here, and remaining will
merely lead to our own demise. We lose no honor in
regrouping.” He gestured, and his protoss gathered
around him, leaving a cluster of zerg bodies in their
wake. Zeratul’s Dark Templar grouped behind him as
well, making Raynor think of a circle divided in two
halves. And he was right at the center of it.
He had been about to wish the protoss leaders good
luck when he heard another voice, more familiar than
theirs but less welcome, drifting across the landscape.
“I am coming for you, little protoss,” came the
words, echoing toward them and simultaneously ring-
ing in his head. “Both of you, High Templar and Dark
Templar, Executor and Praetor. Linger a moment
longer and I will deliver you quickly unto death. Flee
and I will prolong your torment for hours, days, an
eternity.” He couldn’t pinpoint the location or even the
direction, with the sound bouncing against all the rock
nearby, but he knew she was close.
Tassadar still seemed tempted to remain and fight,
particularly now that Kerrigan had called him out again.
“We shall meet in battle soon, o Queen of Blades,”
Raynor heard his tight, angry thought, “and I shall slay
you for the honor and safety of my people.”
Kerrigan apparently heard him as well. “Your peo-
ple?” She laughed. “Look around you, little protoss.
These are all the people you have left!”

246 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“What riddle is this?” Tassadar demanded of the
empty air, his eyes blazing. “Though I may be outcast
for recent actions still I am protoss, and still my race
rules the stars!”
“Not for long,” Kerrigan crowed back, her voice
growing slightly louder. “The Swarm has gone to your
world,” she taunted, “to precious Aiur! By the time
another day has passed your planet will be in cinders,
and your race destroyed!”
Tassadar reeled as if he had been struck, and he
wasn’t the only one. Raynor saw the other protoss
reacting with shock as well, staggering and scowling
and shaking their heads. Zeratul and his Dark Templar
seemed equally affected.
“Impossible!” Zeratul shot back toward the hills.
“Aiur is concealed from your ilk, and its location
remains secret!”
“Not from you, little protoss,” Kerrigan answered,
and now her voice seemed to be coming from right
over the hill. “You know its location, don’t you? And
now, thanks to you, we do as well.”
This time it was the Praetor who staggered back-
ward, a wave of disbelief rising off him like steam,
even as Tassadar turned toward him, the High Tem-
plar’s eyes narrowing in rage.
“You!” His mental cry was the equivalent of a bel-
low, and Raynor winced as the telepathic shout struck
him between the eyes. “What have you done?” But
even as the tall protoss moved toward his Dark Tem-
plar counterpart, Raynor heard a distinctive whistling

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S247

noise he recognized all too well. It was the sound of
Kerrigan’s wing-spikes slicing the air. She was close.
Too close.
“Argue later!” he shouted at the protoss, stepping
between the two leaders and making a shooing gesture
with his rifle. “Let’s get out of here! Now!”
Tassadar glared down at him, then at Zeratul, then
slowly nodded, the motion clearly hard for him. “Yes,
we will settle this later,” he agreed finally, and turned
away, leading his warriors toward safety. Zeratul
matched him without a sound, and his Dark Templar
fell in behind him.
“Is this your choice then, Jimmy?” Kerrigan called,
and this time he knew the words were only inside his
head, but no less real for that. “So be it. You and yours
will suffer the same fate as your new friends.”
“Damn.” Raynor sighed, and then turned and
bounded after the protoss, who were already running
toward the far end of the plateau. “Looks like you’re
stuck with me,” he told Tassadar as he caught up to the
Executor. Then he glanced over at Zeratul, who was
keeping pace beside them. “Hell, looks like we’re all
stuck together.” The two protoss leaders looked at him,
then at each other.
“You have much to answer for, Praetor,” Tassadar
informed Zeratul, and the tone of his statement made
it clear he would personally make sure the Dark Tem-
plar paid whatever debt he owed.
Zeratul did not argue the point.
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “If such as she said is true,

248A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


the blame is mine to shoulder, and bear it I will. For
truly, guiding the Swarm to Aiur is the last thing I
would wish.”
They stared at each other for another instant, green
eyes locked with blue. Then, at the same time, they
nodded.
“You accept your responsibility,” Tassadar stated.
“This is a beginning, at least.” He gave the Praetor one
last glare. “Until I know the truth of this matter, you
shall not leave my sight.”
“Bound together,” Zeratul agreed, his words thrum-
ming with that strange power he had revealed before.
“Thus the hands of fate entwine us, different strands
woven together to create a stronger fabric for the
whole.”
Tassadar was less cryptic. “Your warning was timely,”
he told Raynor as they ran, “and we are grateful. You
and yours may accompany us as allies.”
As he opened a comm channel to call base and tell
them to evacuate, Raynor thought about that. He’d set
out looking for the protoss, either group, in the hope of
forming an alliance. And he’d gotten one. He just
hadn’t expected to get it in quite this manner.

CHAPTER 16




“JIM.”
Kerrigan was smiling, laughing, as she twisted just
out of reach. He chased after her, but she managed to
stay just beyond his grasp, her blazing mane streaming
behind her as she ran.
“Wait,” he called out, hands clutching air as he tried
again and again to catch her. “Come back!”
“No,” she said, turning to face him and skipping
nimbly backward as he dove for her again. “You made
your choice.” Her words were light and her lips still
wore that mocking smile, but her eyes were sad, so
sad. She stepped up beside him and traced a finger
along his face. “Now you’re stuck with it,” she mur-
mured, her lips drifting up toward his, her mouth part-
ing so close to his her could almost feel her skin against
him. Then a searing pain sliced across his cheek and he
reeled backward, hand lifting reflexively to cup the
wound. Her fingernail had somehow transformed into
a long, barbed claw, and she had cut him with it. He

250A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


stared as she backed away, licking the blood from her
fingertip, and shuddered at the look on her face and
the hunger he saw in her eyes.
“Time to wake up, Jimmy,” she told him breathily.
“Time to face the consequences.”
And he sat up, his cheek tender where he touched it.


It had been two weeks since they had joined the
protoss. The first few days had been the worst.
“Get everybody out of there,” he told Cavez and
Abernathy over the comm. “No waiting, just do it.”
“Yes, sir,” they both replied, and he could hear Aber-
nathy shouting orders a second later. Cavez remained on
the link, however. “Where are we going, sir?” he asked.
“That’s a damn good question,” Raynor admitted.
“Hell if I know right now.” He shook his head. “Get
everybody moving toward the mountains and let me
know when you’re en route. I’ll have a better idea
then.”
He assumed that the mountains were where they
were all going. Since fleeing Kerrigan none of the pro-
toss had said a word. It was a bit eerie running across
Char’s twisted landscape in complete silence. A few
times he’d heard odd murmurs behind him, what
sounded almost like wind through trees, and he sus-
pected it was protoss conversation he was overhear-
ing—conversations among the Zealots or the Dark
Templar, things he wasn’t included in and so couldn’t
really make out. The two groups hadn’t mixed at all,
the Zealots staying on his left and the Dark Templar on

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S251

his right, each following their respective leader, and he
kept expecting them to split off from each other at
some point. Which would leave him with a dilemma—
which group would he follow? He knew more about
Tassadar, had spoken to him directly, and felt the
Executor was the more direct of the two, but Zeratul
knew how to kill zerg, even cerebrates, and that was a
power Raynor wanted on his side. Fortunately it
hadn’t come to a decision yet—the two leaders seemed
content to move together for now, though they didn’t
speak to or even look at one another. Raynor resisted
the urge to whistle to cut the tension.
Then things took a turn for the worse, as they usu-
ally did.
“Sir, we’ve got zerg!” It was Cavez, shouting into the
comm as soon as Raynor responded to the ping.
“Where are you?” Raynor shouted back. He could
hear the retort of gauss rifles and hisses and clacks
mixed with screams in the background. He came to a
dead stop, his suit compensating for the sudden halt,
and the protoss instantly paused as well.
“We’re still at the shuttle,” Cavez admitted, sound-
ing a little embarrassed. “Took longer to gather every-
thing than we’d thought. Then the zerg showed up out
of nowhere!”
“Dig in,” Raynor ordered, using his suit’s tracking
systems to locate the camp from here. “Don’t try to
run—they’ll cut you down. Center on the shuttle, put
the armored troopers in front, and hold the fort. I’m on
my way.”

252 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


As soon as he closed the link he turned to the two
protoss commanders, who were watching him silently.
“They’re hitting my men,” he explained hurriedly.
“We need to get them out of there.”
He’d been half-expecting an argument. He didn’t
get one. “A commander’s first duty is to his troops,”
Tassadar agreed. “You must go at once.” Then, perhaps
reading the surprise on Raynor’s face, or the question
that popped into his head, the Executor tilted his head
and his brow quirked in what Raynor felt sure was
humor. “We have allied with you,” the High Templar
assured him, “and we will accompany you in this res-
cue mission.”
“Great.” Raynor let out the breath he’d been hold-
ing. He glanced over at Zeratul, who hadn’t spoken.
“What about you?”
The Praetor shrugged. “Our fates are intertwined,”
he said, as if that explained everything. And maybe it
did, because when Raynor turned and began running
full speed back toward his base, both protoss groups
ran beside him.
Even with his suit’s servos and the protoss’s natural
speed, it took almost an hour to reach the shuttle. He
could hear the fighting before he topped the last rise,
and took some comfort in the fact that at least some of
his crew were still alive and fit enough to fight. Then
he saw the shuttle. At first glance it looked as if it had
been decorated with strange bits of leather and bone,
odd spikes and horns and barbs jutting out from every
angle. Then his suit clarified the image. He was seeing

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S253

the zerg swarming over his ship, and the men sta-
tioned around it.
“We’re comin’ in!” he bellowed into his comm unit
as he barreled down the hill and across the small valley
toward the shuttle. “Careful what you’re shooting!”
He unlimbered his canister rifle as he ran.
Then he was down there, and put a volley of spikes
through an ultralisk that had raised its scythes to carve
through the shuttle’s side. The massive zerg fell, crushing
several zerglings beneath it, and the rest of the brood
turned toward Raynor, giving his troopers a momentary
respite. Of course, that didn’t help him much.
But a second later they forgot about him entirely,
because that was when both groups of protoss
descended upon them.
It was a short fight. This was only a small portion of
Kerrigan’s brood, actually, a handful of ultralisks and
guardians with a few dozen mutalisks, hydralisks, and
devourers and perhaps thirty zerglings. Those were the
ones still standing when he’d arrived, anyway—his
men had dispatched close to half the attackers already,
he was pleased to see. The protoss made short work of
the rest, energy blades carving through tough zerg
hide and slicing off those nasty scythes. Within ten
minutes the last of the attackers were dead or dying
and Raynor was climbing into the shuttle to take stock.
Cavez was waiting for him.
“Sorry, sir,” his lieutenant started, and Raynor
brushed away the apology. “We should have been
ready to move when you gave the order.”

254 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“They would have caught you out in the open,
then,” Raynor consoled him, noticing the bloody
bandage around Cavez’s upper right arm. “Better off
fighting from here. Why aren’t you in armor?”
Cavez shrugged. “I figured the others needed it
more,” he admitted.
“Wrong,” Raynor told him bluntly. “You’re in charge
of them. That means you need to be able to help them
when they need it. You need the armor most. Without
it you’re a liability to them, not an asset. Don’t do it
again.”
“Yes, sir!” The young trooper straightened and
saluted, and Raynor fought back a smile. Damn, Cavez
reminded him of Matt! The thought of the young pilot,
and the Hyperion, sobered him a little.
“All right, all right,” he said. “You’re still alive so it
wasn’t too bad a screwup. Just make sure you’ve got
armor next time.” He glanced around. “Where’s Aber-
nathy?”
Cavez couldn’t meet his eyes. “Dead, sir. She went
to help Non get two of the wounded to the shuttle and
a zerg stabbed her through the chest. I saw her drop.”
Raynor nodded, then stopped. “Wait, stabbed her
through the chest?” Cavez nodded. “Did it tear open
her suit? Rip her apart?”
“Sir?”
He reminded himself that Cavez was young, and
hadn’t seen much combat before Char, particularly
against zerg. Fortunately, he had. “Was her suit still in
one piece when she fell?” he asked again.

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 255

Cavez stopped and thought about it. “Yes, sir,” he
said finally.
“Did the zerg keep on her after she dropped, or did
it move on?”
“Neither.” Cavez grinned proudly. “I took it down,
sir—got it in the throat, ripped its head clean off.”
“Good man.” Raynor activated his suit’s targeting
systems and told it to search for damaged suits. It reg-
istered eight—two in the shuttle and five just outside.
And one more a little ways beyond. “Come on.” He
was already hopping out and Cavez was right behind
him, the lanky trooper doing his best to keep up as
Raynor homed in on the signal. He was crouching
beside the suit when Cavez ran up, gasping.
Cavez’s memory had been right, he saw at once.
Abernathy had taken a hit to the chest, damaging the
suit’s motors and probably shorting out some of its
other systems. Without the servos working the entire
suit had become dead weight and had toppled over,
leaving her defenseless. Fortunately Cavez’s shot had
taken out the zerg before it could do more damage.
And the rest of the brood had apparently been more
interested in going after the still-active defenders.
Raynor couldn’t see any other damage to the suit
beyond that one gaping hole. And though it had
carved through the suit’s armor easily, slicing open
metal and plastics and wiring, he didn’t see any blood.
“Give me a hand,” he told Cavez, kneeling and fum-
bling for the suit’s emergency catches. His own suit’s
fingers could handle a rifle but had trouble with clasps,

256 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


and he’d only managed two by the time Cavez had an
entire side open. Finally he got the rest and lifted the
front of the suit off completely, tossing it to one side.
“Well, it’s about bloody time,” Abernathy said, sit-
ting up and brushing bits of metal and wiring from her
uniform. She grinned at them both, and Raynor could
feel an answering grin on his face. “Did you leave any
for me?”
“Don’t worry,” Raynor assured her, standing up and
grabbing the rest of her armor to sling it over his shoul-
der; parts might still be usable. “Next time we’ll leave
’em all to you.”
Abernathy hadn’t been the only lucky one, Raynor
realized after the three of them had returned to the
shuttle and done a quick head count. They’d lost ten
soldiers in the attack, including three of the four who
had already been wounded. Considering how many
zerg had hit them, and how quickly the attack had
occurred, they’d all been damn lucky.
“Gather your warriors,” Tassadar told him a few
minutes later. The protoss had placed themselves
around the shuttle in a wide ring, Zealots on one side
and Dark Templar on the other, facing outward to
watch for additional attacks. “We must depart.”
“I need to bury my dead,” Raynor told him, and
stood his ground when the Executor glanced down at
him, eyes wide in apparent disbelief. “I’m not just
leavin’ them to rot,” he insisted. “They deserve better
than that.”
He stared back at the protoss leader for a moment

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 257

and finally Tassadar nodded. “Very well. We will guard
you until you are ready.”
Zeratul hadn’t interfered and didn’t approach—
Raynor saw the Praetor standing with his warriors,
watching the horizon for any sign of zerg. Most likely
the Dark Templar simply figured he’d leave when Tas-
sadar did, which worked out fine.
The ground here wasn’t that hard, the first few
inches loose ash and dry, crumbling dirt below that,
and the men took turns digging. They had the ten
graves cut quickly, and then placed the bodies inside.
McMurty was a chaplain and Raynor let him say a
short prayer, then they filled the graves back in and
grabbed their gear, redistributing the ten packs.
“All right, let’s go,” Raynor told Tassadar, who nod-
ded. He heard a faint whisper again and the Zealots
closed in, forming ranks around their leader. On the far
side of the shuttle Zeratul must have heard or seen the
command, because his Dark Templar grouped around
him as well. Raynor nodded to Cavez and Abernathy,
who shouted orders, and soon everyone was moving
out, the humans forming a buffer between the two
groups of protoss.
“I hate to leave it,” Cavez admitted, pacing along-
side Raynor and glancing back once toward the empty
shuttle. “Seems like as long as we had that we had a
chance of getting off this rock.”
“Not much good to us now,” Raynor pointed out,
which was true. The zerg had done a number on the
shuttle during the attack, carving several pieces from

258A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


its wing and hull and using acid to eat large holes all
across it. Even if they’d gotten engines from the pro-
toss ships they’d have to rebuild the shuttle’s hull
before it could fly again. “And it’s too easy a target.”
“Where are we going?” Abernathy asked him from
his other side. She’d claimed one of the other suits of
powered armor, as had Cavez, and the three of them
walked in front with Deslan. McMurty, and a few oth-
ers. Ling and Non had charge of the rear, three other
suited soldiers with them, and the remaining four cov-
ered the middle, two on either side, guarding the unar-
mored troopers.
“No idea,” Raynor admitted, shaking his head. He
jogged forward to where Tassadar and Zeratul led the
way, still not speaking to each other. “Hey, where are
we going?” he asked.
“To find a secure camp,” Tassadar replied without
turning.
“Yeah, great, thanks.” Raynor glared at him but the
Executor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “And where’s
that?”
“You shall see it when we arrive” was the cryptic
answer. Zeratul didn’t add anything and Raynor
dropped back to his lieutenants again, fuming.
“They’re being coy,” he told Cavez and Abernathy.
“I guess we’ll know when we get there.”
“Why’re we teaming up with them again?” Cavez
asked, shuddering slightly as he glanced over at the pro-
toss warriors stalking silently beside them. “Wouldn’t

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 259

we be better off going our own way and letting the zerg
go after them?”
Raynor shook his head. “I thought so at first,” he
admitted, “because the zerg were leaving us alone.
Now we’re targets too, though. We’re better off all
together.” He caught the look of revulsion on Cavez’s
face. “You don’t have to like it,” he told the young
trooper. “I’m not askin’ you to marry ‘em. Just to treat
’em as allies.” He grinned. “Hell, I’ll take protoss over
Duke any day.”
They marched for four hours, reaching the moun-
tains after two and climbing up among the sharp
peaks. Tassadar stayed in front and never paused to
look around or debate a path—Raynor couldn’t tell if
the Executor was going to a place he already knew or
just sensing the route as he went. Either way he led
them to a narrow gap between two peaks, which
widened into a small valley almost totally concealed
beneath a hanging cliff. A small stream ran down from
the opposing peak and pooled at one end.
“Here” was all the High Templar said, his warriors
already dropping into those cross-legged poses Raynor
had seen them assume before. Zeratul’s warriors did
the same, none of the protoss making a move to eat or
drink or even rid themselves of armor, and within
minutes the valley was filled with what looked like
protoss statues.
“Right,” Raynor said, shutting down his armor and
stepping out of it. “Let’s set up camp over there,” he

260A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


said, gesturing to the wall under the cliff. “We’ll set up
a watch, just in case, though I’m sure the protoss will
be keeping an eye out, too.” He glanced over at his
men, who were unshouldering packs and setting
down weapons. “I don’t know how long we’ll be using
this place,” he told them, “so don’t get too comfortable.
But break out some food, let’s refill our canteens, and I
want to know what we’ve got left in terms of ammo
and supplies.”
His men got to work, setting up tents and checking
equipment and making a quick meal, leaving Raynor
and his two lieutenants to discuss their plans. Unfortu-
nately there wasn’t a lot to discuss.
“Nice to know what they’re planning,” Cavez mut-
tered, jerking one thumb toward the motionless pro-
toss. “Are we just tagging along like little brothers for
now?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Raynor replied, taking
a swig from a full canteen Ling had just handed him.
The water was cold and sharp, with just a hint of ash.
“The good news is, we’ve got three times as many
fighters now, and they’re hell on wheels against the
zerg. Bad news is, they’re not exactly chummy with
each other, let alone us. So don’t go expecting cook-
outs or singalongs.”
“Well, are we hunting zerg or waiting for them to
find us?” Abernathy asked. All Raynor could do was
shake his head.
“No idea,” he admitted. “I don’t think either of these
guys likes sitting around waiting,” he added, nodding

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 261

toward the statue that was Tassadar, perched cross-
legged near the stream, and at the monument that was
Zeratul, standing slightly hunched not far from the
valley entrance. “So they’ll probably take the fight to
the Swarm if we go more’n a few days without getting
jumped ourselves.” He scratched his cheek, which still
itched where the dream-Kerrigan had scratched him.
“Could be a few days before it reaches that point,
though.” He slapped Cavez on the arm and Abernathy
on the back, then stood up. “Best thing to do for now
is get some rest.”


Raynor’s words proved prophetic. For two days they
sat in that valley, doing nothing. The protoss behaved
the same way they had when he had spied on the
Zealots before, sitting immobile all day except for brief
periods of stretching and exercise. Tassadar and Zeratul
seemed to be on the same cycle and went from frozen
to mobile at the same time but did not approach one
another. Tassadar seemed to be deliberately ignoring
Zeratul, though once Raynor caught the Executor star-
ing at the Praetor, his eyes wide in confusion rather
than narrowed in anger or hatred. The Praetor did
nothing to disguise his own interest, watching Tas-
sadar intently for several minutes each time they
awoke, but did not speak to him or close the gap
between them. Both groups of protoss ignored the
humans in their midst, moving around them when
necessary and not speaking to them at all.
For their part, Raynor’s crew patched their wounds,

262A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


mended their gear, played cards, carved rocks, sparred,
and otherwise did what soldiers did during downtime.
Everyone kept glancing toward the aliens around
them, and several soldiers jumped each time a protoss
blurred from rest to activity. Raynor overheard several
mutters of “Kill ’em all now, safer that way” and “Just
a matter of time before they turn on us too” and “Just
as creepy as the zerg” and other similar things. Finally
he had to say something.
“I know they’re weird,” he told his assembled troop-
ers on the second morning. “I know they’re funny-
looking with those heads and those eyes and no mouths
and all that. And yeah, they ain’t exactly friendly.” He
glanced from soldier to soldier as he spoke, making sure
he had everyone’s attention. “But they ain’t the enemy.
They ain’t zerg. If they were, we’d all be dead already.”
He took a breath. “Listen, these guys are seriously
bad-ass warriors. You’ve seen them fight. And they hate
the zerg even more’n we do. And while they aren’t
lining up to dance with us, they do see us as allies. So
let’s just ignore their oddities and accept that, okay?”
Several people nodded. “Okay?” Everyone nodded and
he heard several yeses. “Good. You don’t have to like
them,” he said, repeating what he’d told Cavez before.
“You just have to be glad they’re on our side, and stay
out of their way.”
“Easy enough when they’re just sitting still,” some-
body called out, and everybody laughed, Raynor
included.
“Yeah, they’re really good at sitting,” he agreed, but

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 263

just then a flurry of motion caught his eye and he
stopped to glance over the troopers’ heads. The protoss
were all rising from their frozen positions, Zealots and
Dark Templar alike, and moving toward the valley
entrance.
“What’s going on?” Raynor called out to Tassadar,
who was striding toward him. They met midway
between their two groups, Zeratul suddenly appearing
next to them. Raynor started at the Praetor’s presence,
but Tassadar gave no sign of being surprised.
“We must find another haven,” Tassadar explained.
“The Swarm approaches.”
“So we’re just gonna run away?” Raynor asked.
“We’re not gonna fight?”
“They have far superior numbers” was Tassadar’s
reply. “We would not survive such a confrontation.”
“We can’t just let ’em scare us off,” Raynor protested,
stepping forward to block Tassadar’s path as the Execu-
tor started to turn away. “We’ve got to take a few of
them out, at least. If we do that each time we run into
them, before long we’ll whittle ’em down to nothing.”
“The human is correct,” Zeratul stated. “While we
cannot win a direct battle this time, we can wage a
small skirmish and inflict losses upon the zerg.”
Tassadar frowned at the Dark Templar. “You would
stay and fight?” he asked. Raynor could hear the sur-
prise in his voice.
Zeratul nodded. “We can remove ourselves from the
valley and position ourselves above it instead,” he
pointed out. “By gaining such elevation we will take

264 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


the initiative and can strike quickly and then depart,
leaving them wounded and confused.”
The Executor studied his counterpart openly, blue
eyes wide with curiosity. “I was taught that Dark Tem-
plar were cowards and weaklings,” he admitted after a
moment. “You are neither.”
“Teachings come from the teacher,” Zeratul pointed
out, earning a small snort from Raynor, which he
ignored. “Thus the lesson is influenced by the lecturer,
rather than remaining unbiased truth.”
Tassadar tilted his head to one side. “Perhaps,” he said
finally, “I will reevaluate my stance toward you and
yours.”
“The wise mind seeks its own answers,” Zeratul
agreed, “rather than relying upon the information of
others.”
“Yeah, I hate to interrupt,” Raynor cut in, “but if
the zerg are on their way we’d better get our asses in
gear.”
Both protoss swiveled to look at him.
“Indeed” was all Zeratul said, but Raynor could tell
the Dark Templar was amused. Then both protoss lead-
ers were turning back to their warriors and Raynor
rushed to get his crew ready as well.
The ambush worked beautifully. They all moved up
along the valley walls, protoss and human alike, and
hid as best they could against the rocks and snow. Zer-
atul and his Dark Templar had the definite advantage
there, fading completely from view. After perhaps ten
minutes of waiting they heard the telltale clicks and

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S265

hisses and scrapes of the zerg. Raynor and his people
checked their weapons.
As with the shuttle assult, only a portion of Kerrigan’s
brood attacked, and again she was nowhere in sight her-
self. That was probably for the best. This batch of zerg
was entirely land-bound, zerglings and hydralisks and
ultralisks, and that made it easier as well—an ambush
from above might not have worked against mutalisks
and the other fliers. As it was, the zerg filed into the val-
ley, intent upon slaughtering their prey, and halted in
confusion when they found the place empty.
That was when the combined forces of Raynor, Tas-
sadar, and Zeratul fell upon them.
It was a short, ugly fight. Protoss energy blades and
human gauss rifles made short work of the zerg, who
found their escape route cut off and their supposed
prey armed and on every side. Within minutes, the
zerg were dead on the valley floor.
“The rest of the brood will arrive soon,” Tassadar
warned, standing astride a hydralisk he had snapped in
half as it reached for Non. “We must depart or face
them all.”
“Time to go,” Raynor agreed, and gathered his men.
They hadn’t lost a single soldier in the fight. Neither had
the protoss.
“That’s more like it,” Cavez said happily as they
marched out of the valley and followed Tassadar to
some new refuge.
“Not so bad working with protoss, eh?” Raynor
teased him as they walked. His lieutenant managed to

266A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


look a little embarrassed but keep grinning anyway.
“Not so bad,” he agreed.


That first encounter set the tone for the next week.
They would find a place to camp and settle in for any-
where from two hours to two days. The zerg would
find them, or would wander close by looking for them.
Tassadar, Zeratul, and Raynor would set up a trap for
the zerg, attacking all of a small force or cutting off a
portion of a larger force. They’d make short work of
the zerg, protoss and human fighting together, and
then abandon the area before Kerrigan could bring the
rest of her brood after them. They were trimming her
brood with each attack but avoiding her personally,
and Raynor knew it had to be driving her nuts.
The protoss didn’t exactly warm up to the humans.
At least, the warriors still went into statue mode at
each new campsite, and only moved to stretch or
drink. But after that first battle, in which Raynor’s men
had held their own, the warriors did show more
respect for his troopers. They also learned to work
together a bit. The protoss were fearsome warriors, as
strong and fast as a human in combat armor and
deadly with those energy blades, but they were only
effective right up close. Raynor’s men, with their gauss
rifles and targeting systems, could handle longer-range
attacks, which meant they could thin the herd first and
then provide support. The two races began figuring out
how to take advantage of their repective strengths, and
with each battle they improved their teamwork. Most

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S267

of the protoss warriors still didn’t talk to the humans,
but they would point out a zerg target, or simply move
aside to let a trooper take the shot.
For their part, Raynor’s crew began to get a little
more used to their alien allies. The protoss were still
strange and still aloof but everyone agreed they were
damn useful in a fight. And after several instances in
which the protoss stepped in to save the humans from
zerg attacks, the troopers began relaxing more around
them. After all, why bother protecting someone if you
wanted to kill him? Now they knew that the protoss
really did see them as allies, and not only wouldn’t kill
them but would actively help them survive. It made a
big difference. Troopers were able to sleep soundly
without checking on the protoss’s location every few
minutes, and could walk calmly past a frozen protoss
or even sit near one without worrying about being
attacked. Everyone finally accepted that the protoss
really weren’t their enemies, which freed people up to
worry about the zerg and only the zerg.
The Zealots and Dark Templar also formed an
uneasy alliance. The two groups still didn’t mingle,
keeping to separate sides of whatever shelter they
found and only following orders from their respective
leaders. But they did fight alongside one another now.
The Dark Templar seemed more relaxed about their
strange partnership and regarded their Templar
brethren with something like amusement and perhaps
a little condescension. The Zealots still seemed wary of
their dark kin but showed a grudging respect for their

268A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


skills and gradually came to accept the fact that the
Dark Templar were not going to attack them instead of
the zerg.
The protoss leaders were less reticent than their
warriors, and Raynor found himself spending more
time with them both, and especially with the two of
them together. Tassadar and Zeratul spent less time
meditating now than their warriors did, and often sat
near one another, communicating quietly—a concept
Raynor had never realized could apply to telepathy
before—or just sitting quietly. Raynor joined them
whenever he could, fascinated by the interaction
between the two and a bit surprised at the friendly
feelings he found himself developing for each of them.
The two protoss were very different. Tassadar was a
warrior through and through, direct and honest. He
had no guile, though he was an excellent strategist and
had no compunctions about employing feints and
ambushes. But as an individual Tassadar seemed inca-
pable of lying or deceit. He was fiercely loyal to his
warriors and to his people in general, and Raynor saw
in him the burning love of a true patriot, willing to die
for his race’s honor just as readily as for its survival.
But Tassadar cared about more than just his own
people. As they sat one day at one end of their current
camp, he turned to look at Raynor, and Raynor felt
something like shame in that gaze. Zeratul also picked
up on it.
“You feel guilt toward the humans,” the Praetor
commented softly, but after a moment’s silence he cor-

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 269

rected himself. “I mistake the source with the subject,”
he admitted. “You feel guilt because of the humans,
but the guilt is toward our own people.”
Tassadar started and stared at the older protoss, and
for a second Raynor thought the Templar was going to
attack again, though whether it was over Zeratul’s
reminder that they were the same race or his assess-
ment of Tassadar’s emotional state he wasn’t sure.
After a few seconds, however, the Executor simply
shrugged and looked away.
“Is this about my ships?” Raynor asked. He had long
since accepted what the protoss had done above Char
and why. He still mourned the loss of his men, but he
understood. In Tassadar’s shoes—if the alien had worn
any—he might have done the same thing. But Zeratul
answered instead.
“The cause is much greater,” the Praetor assured
him, “and stems less from responding to events than
from following directives.”
If Zeratul knew any more about it he didn’t say, but
Tassadar finally turned back and looked at Raynor
again. “My orders,” the Templar explained heavily,
“were to destroy those worlds already tainted by the
zerg.”
“Like you did to Mar Sara,” Raynor said, and the
Templar nodded.
“But far less taint is required to call down such a
fate,” he explained, and Raynor felt a chill wash over
him.
“How much?” he demanded, leaping to his feet.

270A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“How much contact with the zerg earns a world the
death sentence? Do the zerg even have to land there?”
He saw the reply in the protoss commander’s eyes.
“What, so you’re just supposed to kill us all off now,
just to be safe?”
“Yes,” Zeratul replied, again speaking where the
younger protoss seemed unable or unwilling. “Those
were his orders.”
“How do you know?” Raynor snapped. “It’s not like
you were involved!” He saw the two protoss glance at
each other, then Tassadar looked quickly away, seem-
ing embarassed. “What?”
“I know because the Executor has told me,” Zeratul
explained. “In these past few days we have discussed
many things.” He seemed pleased by this turn of events.
“Didn’t feel like including me, eh?” Raynor asked
Tassadar pointedly, glaring at him, then at Zeratul for
good measure.
“He is still overcome with guilt,” the Praetor replied.
“But he wished to tell you. That is why I spoke for him.”
“So you were supposed to kill us all?” Raynor asked
quietly, numbed at the thought of those protoss war-
ships hovering over each Terran world in turn.
“To eradicate your race’s worlds, and prevent the
Swarm from using them for fodder in the war between
our species, yes,” the Praetor answered. Then he eyed
Tassadar carefully, and his tone turned warm. “But he
did not obey.”
“He didn’t?” Raynor stared at the protoss, who
refused to look up.

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S271

“No,” Zeratul said. “He felt such actions were both
dishonorable and unproductive. Instead he abandoned
his post, his orders, and followed his instincts, to this
world. Here he hoped to eliminate the zerg directly,
thus ending the long conflict and sparing your people
further harm.”
Raynor didn’t know what to say. He’d been so damn
pissed at Tassadar when they’d first met, because the
protoss had destroyed a few hundred men and their
ships. Now he learned that the Executor had deliber-
ately disobeyed orders to spare millions of other
humans, and had come here looking for a way to end
the problem before anyone else got hurt. It was one of
the most selfless things he had ever heard of, and
Raynor realized that Tassadar wasn’t one of those
fanatics who put their own race’s desires above all else.
The protoss commander was one of those far rarer
beings who put their people’s honor and dignity above
even their own plans or orders, and who would do
whatever was necessary to keep theie people’s nobility
intact, even if it meant sullying their own reputation.
“Yes,” Zeratul agreed, and Raynor realized that the
Praetor had read his thoughts. “He is rare indeed, and
valuable beyond measure.” There was no hint of con-
descension or sarcasm in the statement, only truth,
pride, and perhaps a little envy.


If Tassadar was an open book, Zeratul was a tightly
bound scroll, only hinting at his depths and content.
Though a powerful fighter, the Praetor was first and

272A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


foremost a scholar and teacher. He loved to explain
things, though his preferred method was to present
questions and make the student figure out the
answers. He spoke in riddles without even realizing it
and liked to consider everything two or three times
before making a decision. Zeratul was a natural story-
teller with a spellbinding mental “voice.” He also had
a wicked sense of humor, Raynor discovered, and his
convoluted statements often contained barbs directed
at Raynor, Tassadar, and even Zeratul himself. The
first time Raynor made a joke at the Praetor’s expense
he wasn’t sure how the Dark Templar would react
and, in the silence that followed, was afraid he had
gone too far. Then Zeratul started laughing, a dry
cackle that washed over him and left him feeling as
refreshed as from a mild summer rain. Even Tassadar
had chuckled a bit, and after that Raynor and the
Dark Templar traded quips and jabs daily. They both
picked on Tassadar, who put up with their verbal
assaults good-naturedly but did not volley back.
It was a strange trio they made, and their conversa-
tions often turned to subjects Raynor didn’t really
understand. After a few days Tassadar openly admitted
that he was fascinated by Zeratul and his abilities. “You
touch something I cannot,” the High Templar said
humbly, “but I feel the contact deep within, as if it
echoed in my soul somehow.”
“What you feel is the birthright of all protoss,” Zer-
atul replied calmly, though the way he leaned forward
and the way his eyes gleamed betrayed his excitement.

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 273

“I possess only those gifts native to us all. I have honed
my connection with these forces, over these long
years, but the power was there all along, as it resides
within you.”
“That’s how you killed Zasz,” Raynor commented,
and was forced to explain that he had watched the
combat between Praetor and cerebrate in that dark
cavern, earning a nod of respect from the Dark Tem-
plar. “You used those powers to kill him for good,” he
continued.
“Yes,” Zeratul agreed. “The forces we protoss pos-
sess are inimical to the zerg. By utilizing these gifts I
severed the bond between Zasz and the Overmind,
preventing his soul from being reborn.”
“You are certain this Zasz was not restored after
your attack?” Tassadar asked, and Raynor answered
for the Praetor.
“He wasn’t,” he confirmed. “He’s definitely dead.”
He thought back to the conversation he had witnessed
between Kerrigan and Daggoth. “I saw Kerrigan talk-
ing about it,” he explained, “before I ran into the two
of you. Whatever you did”—he nodded at Zeratul—“it
was the real deal.” Then he remembered the other part
of the conversation. “Damn.”
“What is it?” Tassadar demanded. “If you know
more of this, you must tell us!”
“Yeah, well, I—” Raynor couldn’t bring himself to
look at either of them, particularly Zeratul. “I guess
when you did that, killed Zasz, you touched the Over-
mind itself.”

274A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“Yes, I felt it through its link to the cerebrate,” the
old protoss confirmed.
“Well, it apparently felt you too,” Raynor explained.
“And it tapped your mind while you were busy. That’s
how it found out about Aiur.”
“No!” Zeratul shot to his feet but instantly tipped
backward, flailing to catch himself. He looked for all
the world like a drunken soldier, and his eyes alter-
nated between blazing green fire and dull, colorless
pools. “It is my fault!” His psychic cry was heart-
wrenching. The Praetor turned to Tassadar and fell to
his knees before the stunned Executor. “Truly I am to
blame!” Zeratul wailed in their minds. “I have
betrayed our people! Punish me! Take my life! End my
suffering!” He bowed his head, clearly waiting for
whatever punishment Tassadar chose to inflict.
For his part, the Executor sat unmoving for a
moment. Then, surprisingly, he reached out and rested
a hand upon Zeratul’s shoulder. “You are the cause,
yes,” the Executor confirmed, “but your intent was
pure. You sought to eliminate a foe, not expose our peo-
ple. Your own grief and guilt are punishment enough.”
Zeratul looked up at him, his eyes wide. “But
through me the Swarm will strike at Aiur! Our people
will suffer!”
“Yes,” Tassadar agreed, “but the Overmind has
sought our world obsessively. If not through your
actions he would have found Aiur some other way.
You have only hastened the inevitable.” He turned,
and his eyes blazed blue even in the daylight. “I must

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 275

warn our people, however. They must be told of the
attack—and that the cerebrates are the key.” Then he
bowed his head. “I have not the power to reach them
alone.”
“I will aid you,” Zeratul offered, rising to sit next to
Tassadar. The older protoss had apparently locked his
grief away, for it no longer showed on his face or in his
thoughts, though Raynor was sure the Praetor still felt
it keenly. “Between us we may bridge the distance and
let your warning be heard.”
Tassadar nodded, and the two clasped hands,
though not without a tiny shudder on the Executor’s
part. Raynor stayed where he was, too fascinated to
leave and not wanting to disturb them with any sud-
den movements. He saw the air shimmer between the
two protoss, taking on a rainbow sheen, and then two
other protoss appeared, their images wavering as from
a weak holograph. One was clad in the same uniform
as Tassadar, and had sky-blue eyes. The other wore
ornate robes of crimson and gold, and blue-gray eyes
peered out from beneath his heavy hood.
“En Taro Adun, Executor,” the hooded protoss was
projecting, his thought-speech faint, and at first
Raynor thought he was talking to Tassadar. But the
image’s eyes did not focus upon the High Templar, and
after a second Raynor realized he was talking to the
sky-eyed warrior instead. “Your defense of Antioch
has restored my faith in the Templar caste. I admit that
Tassadar’s desertion had shaken—”
“Indeed, Aldaris?” Tassadar cut in, his thoughts

276 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


directed sharply at the hooded figure. “I would hope
that the Judicator would put more faith in their Tem-
plar brethren. . . .”
Both of the protoss in the image whirled about,
obviously looking for the thought’s source.
“Tassadar?” the one named Aldaris queried, his eyes
finally focusing upon the High Templar. “Where. . .”
“Be silent, Judicator,” Tassadar warned. “There is no
time to waste, and I have much to tell you.” He nodded
toward the second newly arrived protoss but did not
pause to greet him otherwise. “As you know, the zerg
vanished after the fall of the Terran world of Tarsonis.
And though the Conclave bid me return home, I was
compelled to remain. A powerful psionic call drew my
attention to a remote, barren world named Char.
Apparently, the call was answered by others as well.
For upon Char, I encountered those who were once
our brethren—the Dark Templar.” Tassadar’s eyes
darted briefly toward Zeratul, hidden on the far side of
the distortion, before returning to the image.
Aldaris’s eyes had narrowed in rage. “Consorting
with the Fallen Ones is heresy!” he proclaimed, his
thoughts harsh and unforgiving.
“Enough!” Tassadar’s own eyes flared into cobalt
fire, and the Judicator fell silent. “Hear me, Executor,”
Tassadar continued, turning toward the sky-eyed pro-
toss instead, “for I have learned much from the Dark
Templar Prelate Zeratul. The Overmind controls its
minions through agents called cerebrates. Strike down
the cerebrates, and the Swarms will surely fall.”

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S277

“My thanks, noble Tassadar,” the other Executor
replied, entering the conversation for the first time.
“We will use this knowledge well.”
“I pray we can trust you, Tassadar,” Aldaris stated
softly, still projecting anger but now mingling it with
fatherly concern. “Already I can sense the taint of the
Fallen Ones’ influence on your mind. You must return
to Aiur at once!”
“My concern is for the safety of Aiur, not the judg-
ments of the Conclave,” Tassadar replied calmly. “I will
return when the time is right.” And when you have
access to a ship, Raynor thought, but he didn’t say it.
He understood that the High Templar didn’t want to
distract his people from the zerg invasion by asking for
a ride home, and he admired the protoss warrior’s ded-
ication.
Tassadar lifted his hands from Zeratul’s and swept
them before his face, shattering the strange distorted
circle and scattering the image’s remains into the weak
sunlight.
“My thanks,” he told Zeratul quietly. “Perhaps now
our people may have a chance.”
“We may hope,” the Dark Templar replied. “Though
even targeting the cerebrates may not be enough.”
“Why?” Tassadar asked. “Your attack was sufficient
to destroy one.”
Zeratul regarded him a second before answering.
“The powers you possess are formidable,” he said
finally, “but they are not your true gifts. They are
merely versions of them approved by your leaders,

278 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


diluted by their teachings and narrowed by their fears.
You must grasp the full power within you to truly
strike down the zerg.”
Tassadar did not reply. Zeratul’s suggestion hung
above them, however, and several days later Tassadar
responded.
“Tell me more about these gifts we possess” was all
he asked, but it was a major step for him and Raynor
knew it. From the first confrontation between the two
protoss he’d seen how the Dark Templar were spoken
of in normal protoss society, and how Tassadar had
been raised to consider them evil. Fighting alongside
Zeratul had convinced Tassadar otherwise, but he’d
still considered the Dark Templar’s abilities to be some-
thing foreign and perhaps tainted. To ask about them,
and especially to speak of them as something native to
all protoss, was a major step in breaking down his old
prejudices and accepting a different, wider view. Even
though Tassadar was far older than he was, Raynor felt
proud of him, as if the protoss commander were a
young man he’d just seen take his first step toward
growing up.

CHAPTER 17




THE NEXT TWO WEEKS WERE A STRANGE MIX OF
activity and leisure, study and idleness.
Zeratul had clearly been pleased when Tassadar
finally expressed interest in learning about their pro-
toss gifts, but the Praetor had hesitated before replying,
glancing significantly at Raynor.
“These gifts lie at the very core of our being,” he
warned the younger protoss, “and may only be revealed
to other members of our race, lest others gain un-
healthy insight into our souls and abuse such knowl-
edge to the detriment of our people.” The language was
convoluted, but Raynor got the gist.
“I’m outta here,” he said, standing up and dusting off
the seat of his pants. “You guys can do your little bond-
ing thing.” But Tassadar raised an arm and blocked him
from leaving.
“James Raynor is our ally,” the Executor told the
wizened Dark Templar. “He is also a”—he paused for an
instant; Raynor would have sworn he was taking a deep

280A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


breath if the protoss had possessed mouths and nostrils
and lungs—”friend,” Tassadar said finally, and that one
word carried a surprising amount of emotion. Not just
for the protoss, either—Raynor rocked back on his heels
at the statement and felt his eyes tear up. A part of him
laughed at himself for being such a sap, but it was only
a small part. The rest of him understood. The protoss
didn’t just read emotions and thoughts, they projected
them, and so Tassadar’s statement carried with it the full
weight of his thoughts and feelings upon the matter.
That was how Raynor knew it was such a significant
acknowledgment. Tassadar wasn’t just saying they were
buddies—that had been encompassed in the word
“ally.” By referring to Raynor as a “friend,” Tassadar was
admitting to a strong bond between them, a bond that
carried its own honor and required its own loyalty. The
closest Raynor could come to a comparison was by
thinking of blood brothers, men sworn to support one
another as they would their own kin. It was a stagger-
ing honor, and one he never would have expected from
the tall, taciturn alien warrior.
“Thanks,” he told Tassadar, knowing the Executor
would read into that one word all the gratitude he
really felt. He could see from the protoss’s eyes that he
had. Then Raynor glanced over at Zeratul, who looked
both amused and puzzled. “But I don’t want to get in
the way.”
“You are not in the way,” Tassadar informed him.
“You are welcome.” He dropped his arm, demonstrat-
ing that Raynor was still free to leave if he chose, and

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S281

both of them turned to face the Dark Templar. Ball’s in
your court, Raynor couldn’t help thinking.
Perhaps the Praetor heard him. Or perhaps he sim-
ply recognized that the two others were waiting for his
response. The older protoss paused for a moment, per-
haps for dramatic effect, before nodding slightly.
“You see beyond skin,” he complimented Tassadar,
“acknowledging the soul beneath and finding kinship
regardless of form. Impressive.” Something about his
tone sounded almost jealous, and Raynor had a flash
of insight. For all his learning and wisdom and coun-
sel, all his talk about an open mind, Zeratul had very
set notions about certain things. And Tassadar had just
demonstrated that he could move beyond what he’d
been taught, and think outside the box. It was a rare
gift, and one the Praetor himself did not possess.
“Much of what I will teach you can only be learned
by a joining of thoughts,” Zeratul continued, “and thus
our companion”—he nodded at Raynor—”will be
unable to participate. However, I will share what I may,
that he may learn more of us and our ways.” He nodded
again, but this was deeper, almost a bow. “Perhaps in
this you will discover the true meaning of being protoss,
and will understand us as no outsider has before.”
“And perhaps,” Tassadar added, “your perspective,
unbounded by our heritage, will provide useful insight
for us all.”
Raynor thought about it for a second, but only a sec-
ond. On the one hand, this might be pretty boring, espe-
cially when the two protoss were “joining thoughts,” as

282A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Zeratul had put it. On the other hand, the more he knew
about the protoss the more fascinating they became, and
this was a chance to learn things no other non-protoss
knew. Things even most protoss didn’t know, apparently.
But the real deciding factor was Tassadar’s calling him
“friend.” Raynor knew it was one of the most important
moments of his life, right up there with the day he first
left home and the day he met Mike Liberty and the day
he walked out on Arcturus Mengsk. The Templar had
invited him to participate in something incredibly impor-
tant, and to refuse would be to insult their new bond. So
he sank back down onto the rock he’d been using as a
seat, and nodded. “Don’t know I’ll have much to offer,”
he admitted, “but thanks.”
That apparently settled the matter. It was later that
afternoon—because the old protoss refused to do any-
thing without appropriate dramatic pauses—that Zer-
atul began their education.
As the Dark Templar had warned, Raynor wasn’t able
to follow all of it. Often the two protoss linked minds so
the Praetor could demonstrate something directly. They
had tried to include Raynor in the link but he’d wound
up with no more than several strange images, a cascade
of sounds, and a splitting headache. “Your mind is not
meant for such uses,” the Praetor pointed out afterward,
sounding slightly apologetic, “and the link works best
with only two minds, even among protoss.” So for long
stretches Raynor found himself just sitting between two
statues, or getting up and wandering away while they
were busy communing.

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S283

At other times, however, Zeratul lectured them on
protoss history and theology, and Raynor listened
along with Tassadar, though he could follow only some
of the details. He learned about the Xel’Naga, the tribe
that created the protoss millennia ago and been
attacked for their troubles. He learned about the bat-
tles that tore the race apart, and about the Mystic
known as Khas who reunited the people and created
the Khala, the Path of Ascension. It was the Khala,
with its rigid rules, that still defined protoss society
today. And it was the protoss tribes who had refused to
submit to its structure who were exiled from their
homeworld and later became the Dark Templar.
“The powers you draw upon are those granted us by
the Xel’Naga themselves,” Zeratul explained, “and are
entwined with the very fiber of our being. But they
have been filtered through the Khala, restricted to a
narrow channel defined by elder generations past. Our
true powers are not limited in this fashion.”
“Yet without these limits we would lose all control,”
Tassadar countered. “As happened long ago, when
Adun failed in his duty and allowed the Tribes to
unleash their power across Aiur, nearly destroying the
world.” Waves of shock and old pain rose from Zeratul,
making Raynor flinch. “Yes, I know of these things,”
Tassadar admitted. “Rumors still exist, and when we
rise high enough in our training Templar are instructed
in the difference between lies and truth.”
“Instructed, yes,” Zeratul agreed, “but not fully. Nor
are you given full truth, only the version the Conclave

284A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


agreed upon centuries ago.” He turned away, unable to
speak further, and Raynor knew the lessons were over
for the day.


It was actually three days before they discussed pro-
toss history again. The zerg attacked on the second day,
and after beating them back the protoss and human
forces relocated to yet another hidden valley. They had
honed the process to an art by now, the protoss actually
helping to pack up the humans’ tents and gear, and
could be on the move in twenty minutes or less. With
each battle and each new camp the rapport between the
two races grew stronger, and between the two sides of
the one race. Raynor knew the time he spent with Tas-
sadar and Zeratul had something to do with that.
“They can’t be all bad,” Non said one morning over
coffee, “or you wouldn’t be sitting with them all day
on these damn rocks.” Everyone laughed.
“What’re you talking about?” Cavez asked a little while
later. “Or thinking about, or mind-talking, or whatever it
is,” he amended hastily. Most of the men still weren’t
comfortable with the notion of telepathy, and Raynor
wondered if his history with Kerrigan had helped him
accept the concept, and the practice, so easily. Not that it
didn’t still weird him out to have another’s thoughts pop
into his head, but he understood it and wasn’t so much
afraid anymore as just continually startled.
“History,” Raynor answered honestly. “I’m learning
their history.” He took a sip of his coffee and thought
about it a bit more. “It’s an honor,” he said then.

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S285

“They’ve never let another race know this much about
them. And I can see why. The more they tell me about
their past, the more I understand who they are now,
and why.”
“Is it . . . okay?” Cavez asked, a shadow of his former
xenophobia showing on his face.
“It’s fine,” Raynor assured him. “Better than that,
actually. We don’t have to worry. The one thing they’d
never do is betray us.”
He knew it was true as he said it. The notion of
honor and loyalty was at the very core of the protoss
race, even before the Khala had made it such a large
part of an individual’s reputation. The Dark Templar,
for all their rebellion and distrust, were still incredibly
honorable. And still utterly loyal to their race. Tassadar
saw that as well, and Raynor could see the Executor’s
respect for the Dark Templar, and particularly for their
Praetor, increasing every day.
Especially after Zeratul’s lessons began again. “We
did nearly destroy Aiur,” he admitted without pream-
ble when he, Tassadar, and Raynor were seated on a
small ledge by the valley’s back wall that third day.
“But it was not entirely our fault. Adun hoped to show
us the error of our ways.” His green eyes grew distant,
and Raynor knew the Praetor was remembering
ancient history—too ancient for him to have experi-
enced it firsthand, but Tassadar had explained that pro-
toss could share experience with one another so fully
you felt you had been there.
“He came to us, with orders to destroy us,” Zeratul

286A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


said softly, and turned at Tassadar’s wordless cry. “This
they did not tell you, of course. Why would they?
Admit that they sent their Templar to slaughter their
own kin, whose only crime was refusing to submit to
their codes?” He nodded. “Now you see the depth to
which you have been misled,” he added, though he
sounded sad rather than triumphant.
“But Adun refused,” the Praetor continued. “He
could not bring himself to kill his own kin. Instead he
taught us that which Khas had taught, how to tap the
power we all carried within us. He hoped our minds
would link and we would then see our folly in resist-
ing.” Zeratul stopped, and for a moment it seemed as if
he wouldn’t continue.
“It didn’t work,” Raynor ventured finally, startling
the older protoss and earning the mental equivalent of
a bitter laugh for his efforts. But the reminder of an
audience spurred Zeratul to resume his story.
“No,” he admitted. “It did not. We learned our
power, yes, but not the discipline to control it. That at
least the Khala is good for: providing discipline from
birth, teaching protoss to master their urges and
thoughts. With such training our people can use our
gifts without fear.” He shook his head. “But the Tribes
did not have this knowledge. Adun could teach us only
so much—it would have required decades to train us
in the necessary control, even if he could have. And
many of us were too old, too set in our ways, to alter
our patterns so fully.” His eyes rested on Tassadar, and
Raynor could tell what the Praetor was thinking. Here

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 287

before him was a High Templar, a high-ranking mem-
ber of the protoss society, but Tassadar was still young
enough and idealistic enough—and honest enough—
to change his patterns radically.
“Your power grew beyond your ability to contain
it,” Tassadar stated, and it was not a question.
“Yes,” Zeratul agreed. “Storms rose from our minds,
fueled by old enmities, and swept across Aiur. The
Conclave scattered the storms, but not without grave
cost.”
“Yet you would have me follow this path,” Tassadar
said softly. The way he said it, Raynor felt the Executor
knew better but still wanted to hear it.
He got his wish. “No!” Zeratul’s reply contained the
most emotion either of them had seen from the old pro-
toss. “Not in that manner!” He calmed himself with a vis-
ible effort. “That was the beginning, and showed us the
error of our ways,” he explained. “After our exile, we
continued to study the gifts Adun had shown us, and to
unlock the powers within. But we also taught ourselves
control, as strong as that granted by the Khala, but with-
out its limitations. We learned to harness the powers of
our race fully and control them completely, yet our
minds remain unfettered by narrow codes and hierar-
chies designed only to protect those in power.”
“The Khala is not a prison,” Tassadar refuted, his
thoughts quiet but the faith behind them hard and
strong. “It is the foundation of our society, the bedrock
of our people.” He leaned back, his eyes half-closed. “It
is impossible to describe fully,” he warned, and Raynor

288 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


could tell the thought was directed not only to him but
to Zeratul as well. “We are as one within the Khala,”
Tassadar stated after a moment’s silence. “Our minds
are linked. But not as when we communicate—not as
they are now. The Khala offers a deeper communion, a
true bond between protoss. In some ways you lose
yourself within that link, becoming one with all other
protoss, a single glorious being.”
Like the Swarm? Raynor couldn’t help wondering.
He didn’t say it aloud, of course. But Zeratul was not so
shy about airing his misgivings.
“This is why we refused it,” the old protoss stated
firmly. “We had no wish to lose ourselves. We are pro-
toss, yes, but we are also individuals. That is important
as well.”
“Of course it is,” Tassadar agreed, opening his eyes
to meet the Praetor’s gaze. “Never did I claim other-
wise.” He held up one hand to stop Raynor, who had
just opened his mouth to protest. “We lose ourselves,
yes, but not our identity, not who we are—just our
loneliness, our isolation. I am still Tassadar within the
Khala, but I am more than Tassadar, more than this
body and this mind. I am one with all my brethren,
part of the greater whole that is our race.” He shook his
head, releasing the mental equivalent of a sigh. “It can-
not be explained properly, not without experiencing
it.” Now his look flashed over both of them, and
Raynor saw something like pity in his eyes. “And nei-
ther of you will ever know it fully.”
Raynor frowned. “I know I can’t, because I’m not

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 289

protoss. But why can’t he?” He jerked a thumb toward
Zeratul, and saw Tassadar’s eyes grow even sadder.
“The Dark Templar have removed themselves from
our racial link,” the tall protoss explained slowly. “They
have forever severed their connection to our people,
thrown away all that we are, turned their back on us.”
“We never turned our back,” Zeratul countered
hotly, his eyes blazing. “We still keep watch over Aiur,
over all of you! We have since our exile!” Then he let
his eyelids drop, a deliberate setting aside of his anger.
“But yes, we broke that link. We thought we would be
lost within it, swallowed up by the Conclave, stripped
of our identities. Perhaps if one such as you had
explained it, we might have acted differently.”
“You would consider rejoining us?” Tassadar seemed
startled.
“Yes” was the Praetor’s reply. “If we could, we might
consider it. Not with the Conclave, for we do not trust
their motives, but with those such as yourself, certainly.”
“I am surprised to hear you discuss such a matter so
calmly,” Tassadar admitted, and Zeratul’s mental snort
made Raynor grin in reply.
“We consider all our actions, Executor. Every move
is carefully inspected, debated, deliberated. We were
not a hasty people to begin with, and we have learned
patience from our time among the stars.”
“Then you do not advocate giving in to every whim
and emotion,” Tassadar asked, and again it was clearly
not a question, though Zeratul answered anyway.
“Of course not,” the Praetor scoffed. “Those are tales

290 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


spread by the Conclave, painting us as rogues and
fiends, little more than savages, unable to think clearly
or act rationally, unable to control ourselves.” He
turned, raising his arms and sweeping them to include
the valley behind them. “Are we irrational and uncon-
trolled?” Tassadar and Raynor both looked past him,
where Dark Templar sat just as still as Templar and just
as visibly at peace. No other answer was required.


“Poor, poor Jimmy. So sad, so lonely. So doomed.”
Raynor jerked upright, sweat scattering from his
sudden motion. He took a deep breath, forcing his rac-
ing heart to slow, and wiped his forearm across his
brow, sweeping away the sweat that coated his skin.
Damn. He couldn’t remember all of the dream this
time, but he knew it had been another one about Ker-
rigan. He had been having them more and more often
ever since they’d abandoned the shuttle. But the tone
of them had changed dramatically.
The ones that he did remember lately still involved
him and Kerrigan. But they weren’t happy. Or at least
they weren’t by the end. Each time the two of them
were together, eating or running or making love or just
sitting together, talking and laughing, full of life and
love. But then something changed. Kerrigan pulled
away from him, or simply turned cold in his arms. Her
voice shifted, growing deeper, more raspy, chased by a
strange echo that sent chills through him. Her complex-
ion altered, fair skin mottling and darkening. And her
look changed from love to anger, sorrow, even hatred.

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 291

“Too bad, Jimmy,” she said each time. “You could
have had it all.”
Sometimes he woke up then. Other times he found
himself running, fleeing this love gone wrong, only to
be chased down. And tortured. He suspected this last
dream had been one of the latter variety.
“I gotta stop doing this,” he told himself as he stood
up and made his way out of his tent, careful not to wake
any of the troopers asleep in tents nearby. He was get-
ting enough sleep, but it didn’t feel that way. Often he
was edgy, abrupt, antagonistic, particularly right after
he’d woken up. His eyes burned, and sometimes the
places where he’d taken wounds in the dream ached for
hours afterward. Yet each night he hoped to dream
about Kerrigan again, and each time he did he savored
the start of the dream, before it all turned ugly.
“Why is she doing this to me?” he muttered as he
knelt near the valley wall and splashed water on his
face from the puddle that collected there.
“Perhaps her reasons are as muddled as your own
thoughts.” The reply came from behind Raynor, star-
tling him enough that his handful of water splashed
against his chest instead of his face. He turned around,
already knowing whom he would find—the mental
voice was distinctive.
“Zeratul.”
The Praetor stood a few paces away, hands hidden
within the folds of his robe, green eyes watching him
carefully. “I did not mean to startle you,” the protoss
assured him.

292A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“That’s okay.” Raynor scooped up more water, actu-
ally getting it to his face this time, then clambered back
to his feet. “Just shaking off a bad dream.”
The Dark Templar nodded. “Her touch still hangs
heavy about you,” he observed, confirming something
Raynor had known but never stated out loud. The
dreams really were from Kerrigan!
“She’s torturing me,” he admitted, walking a short
ways to perch on a low rock. Zeratul sank down beside
him with the easy grace of the protoss, curling in upon
himself somehow so he resembled a ball of dark cloth
with a head perched atop it.
“Not just you,” the Praetor commented, but he didn’t
say more. His eyes bore a look Raynor remembered well
from people like his mother, his teachers, and Mengsk.
A look that said, Figure it out for yourself.
“I’m the only one getting these dreams, though,
right?” That was his first worry, that she had infected
all his men the same way. But he didn’t really think
she had, and indeed Zeratul shook his head no. “So
who else could she be hurting with them? It’s just
me—and her.” Raynor felt a chill run through him. He
stared at the protoss, barely seeing him. “That’s it, isn’t
it? She’s hurting herself by sending me these dreams!”
“How could a dream hurt the sender?” Zeratul asked,
though Raynor suspected the old protoss already knew
the answer. He worked it out himself, talking it
through, though he knew Zeratul could hear his
thoughts as easily as his words.
“It’d hurt if she’s giving up something she wants to

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S293

keep for herself,” he decided. “Or if she’s sharing some-
thing she doesn’t really want to share. Or if she’s reliv-
ing something she’d rather tuck away where she
doesn’t have to see it.” He thought about the dreams,
about their content, particularly how they started.
“She’s sending me images of how we could have been,”
he admitted, aching at the thought of it. “If we’d been
together properly.” In his mind’s eye he saw them run-
ning together, dancing, laughing. “She’s showing me
that we could have been happy together.”
He glared at Zeratul, squinting to blink away the
sudden tears. “She’s taunting me with what we could
have had.”
“Yes,” the Praetor agreed. He waited, clearly expect-
ing Raynor to continue.
“But she’s also torturing herself with something she
wants but can never have,” Raynor realized. “Part of
her still wants to be with me. That’s where the dreams
come from. She’s twisting them because she knows
she can’t have that—can’t have me. And using them
against me because it’s the only way to justify sending
them at all.”
Zeratul nodded. “You grasp truths quickly,” he told
Raynor, “once you free your mind from its constraints.”
Raynor laughed. “If you mean I’m too pigheaded to
see past my own nose half the time, you’re right.” He
sobered again. “So I know she both does and doesn’t
want to send me these dreams. They’re still torture.
They still wake me in a cold sweat.” He looked up at the
old protoss. “Can’t you stop them?”

294 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


“I?” Zeratul regarded him carefully. “They are not
my dreams, either of my making or of my receipt.”
“Yeah, but you can see them,” Raynor insisted. “You
can read them in my thoughts. Can’t you block them
somehow, so I don’t have to get them? Turn them
aside or something?” He knew he was grasping, but he
was desperate. Knowing that part of Kerrigan still
wanted him, still wished things had been different,
only made the dreams that much worse.
But the Praetor shook his head. “These dreams are
yours to bear,” he cautioned. “It is not for me to turn
them aside. You must confront them yourself, as best
you can.”
Raynor got up and was about to walk back to his tent
when he stopped. Something in Zeratul’s words, some-
thing in his look—he had a suspicion, and acted on it.
“You could stop them, though,” he said, turning back
toward the Praetor. “If you wanted to. You could.”
Zeratul met his gaze but did not reply.
“Why won’t you?” Raynor asked. He stepped a little
closer. “I’m not even asking you to, not now. But I
want to know why. The truth.”
For a moment he thought the Praetor would refuse
to answer, or say something again about fighting one’s
own battles. Then a thin sigh escaped the old protoss, a
hint of both amusement and chagrin.
“You are more like us than we know,” Zeratul said,
so quietly Raynor wasn’t sure he’d heard him. Then,
louder, he added, “You are correct. The dreams might
be blocked, though only with difficulty. The bond

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 295

between you is strong. Very strong.” He paused, then
went on. “It is clear to me, as a mottled band of light
stretched between you.”
“A band of light?” Raynor digested that. “Wait, you
can see the link from Kerrigan?” At Zeratul’s nod, he
continued, filled with sudden understanding, “Then
you know where she is!”
“I cannot see her precise location,” the Praetor cor-
rected. “But I can see from the intensity of the link
whether she is near or far, yes.”
“You’ve been using me!” Raynor snapped at him.
“You let the dreams go on so you could keep track of
her, keep us away from her!”
“Yes.”
Raynor thought about that, thought about what he
would have done in the same situation, and felt his
anger wash away. “Good,” he said finally. “It’s a tool we
can use.”
As he walked back to his tent, he heard one last
comment from Zeratul, little more than a whisper
echoed on the wind. “More like us than we know.”

CHAPTER 18




“YOU HAVE ALREADY BEGUN ALONG THE PATH,
the truth path,” Zeratul assured Tassadar a few days
later during another of their strange trainings-
lectures-discussions. Raynor sat off to the side, watch-
ing and listening as usual. “Nor did you require my
instruction to take that first step,” the Praetor contin-
ued, and Raynor thought he heard a hint of petu-
lance, as if the old protoss was disappointed he hadn’t
been more necessary.
“I do not understand,” Tassadar admitted. It was one
of the things Raynor liked about the tall protoss war-
rior—he was willing to show his ignorance, and to
own up to his mistakes.
“When we first met,” Zeratul reminded him, and
Tassadar hung his head in shame. After more than a
month together, he clearly regretted attacking the
Dark Templar during their first encounter. But the
Praetor brushed any apologies aside with one hand

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S297

and continued speaking. “You manifested mental
weapons, did you not?”
Tassadar nodded, and so did Raynor, remembering
the glittering blue-white energy spikes protruding
above the Executor’s wrists.
“Yet you wore no bracers,” Zeratul pointed out.
Raynor was sure he saw Tassadar’s eyes widen as he
realized what the Praetor was saying.
“Okay,” Raynor said, leaning forward slightly,
“sorry to interrupt but I don’t get it. So what?”
“The bracers amplify and focus our minds,” Tassadar
explained slowly. “They allow us to generate psi-
blades. Yet I—” He paused, apparently unable to finish
the thought openly.
“You created such weapons with no tools,” Zeratul
agreed. “Your mind alone focused your power and
gave it form.” He sounded proud, like a father watch-
ing a son fire a rifle for the first time. “Truly your mind
has already made the leap away from the Khala and its
restrictions.” He rested his hands upon Tassadar’s
shoulders. “You are ready for the next step.”
Raynor didn’t follow much of what came after that. It
was both too specific and too vague, instructions mixed
with metaphors and sprinkled with poetry, as Zeratul
showed Tassadar the true potential of the protoss mind.
But he did witness the results as Tassadar mastered each
new gift in turn, and he was present when, after the two
protoss had sat silently communing for several hours,
Zeratul finally rose and declared, “You are ready.”

298A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


“Ready?” Raynor scrambled to his feet, cursing the
pins and needles in his legs and massaging them
absently back to life. “Ready for what?”
“The Shadow Walk,” Zeratul explained as he led
Tassadar down from the small nook they had found
and across the valley they were currently using as their
combined camp. “The test each Dark Templar must
undergo to demonstrate his mastery of our skills.”
Raynor, walking along behind the two protoss, sud-
denly understood what Zeratul was saying. All this
time he had thought Tassadar was simply learning
more about his heritage, and about the powers every
protoss possessed. Apparently it had been more than
that. Zeratul had been training the Executor, yes, but
not just as a friendly gesture. He had been teaching
Tassadar to become a Dark Templar!
“What happens if he passes?” Raynor asked as they
neared the far end of the valley. The rest of the protoss
moved aside, Tassadar’s Zealots stepping back against
the east wall and Zeratul’s Dark Templar vanishing into
the shadows along the west face, and Raynor gestured
for his own people to stay where they were at the
southeast corner.
“He becomes one of us,” Zeratul replied.
“What about being a Templar, then?” Raynor
demanded. “Does he lose that?” He wasn’t sure why it
was so important to him except that he had grown to
like the Executor, and knew that his achievements as a
High Templar were important to Tassadar.
Zeratul paused at the question and turned back to

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 299

study Raynor carefully. The old protoss’s pale green
eyes were as unreadable as ever, but Raynor thought
he saw a flicker of amusement there—and perhaps of
delight as well.
“Only one other has attempted to walk both paths,”
Zeratul admitted, but he did not explain beyond that.
They had reached the end of the valley now, and the
Praetor gently turned his pupil back the way they had
come.
“What must I do?” Tassadar asked simply. He had
followed Zeratul here as if in a daze, and only now
seemed to waken from it, glancing around, his sharp
blue eyes taking in every detail.
“You must traverse the valley to the far end,” Zer-
atul replied. “Pass through the shadows only. Let none
prevent your progress.”
“That’s it?” Raynor couldn’t stop himself from ask-
ing. “That’s all he has to do, walk across the valley?”
Both protoss glanced at him and nodded. Then
Raynor’s brain caught up with his hearing and he
glanced down at the valley again, realizing what he’d
seen as they’d passed. Tassadar’s Zealots were all on the
east side, in the fading sunlight. But Zeratul’s followers
had vanished into the shadows. The same shadows Tas-
sadar was expected to stay within as he walked. Cross-
ing a valley filled with invisible warriors who could
attack at any time—yeah, that was a challenge.
“Good luck,” he told Tassadar.
“Thank you, James Raynor,” the Executor replied,
his blue-white eyes wise and unblinking. Then the

300A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


High Templar turned and took three paces forward and
to the left, the shadows rising about him like mist as he
entered their domain.
“Will he make it?” Raynor asked Zeratul, who had
also turned back toward the valley’s far end but was
staying outside the shadows.
“If such is his destiny,” the Praetor replied. He did
not offer any further comment, and after a few min-
utes Raynor found himself alone, the old protoss hav-
ing vanished somewhere between one footstep and
another. Raynor considered joining his own men but
decided against it. They were at the front end of the
valley, and Tassadar had already passed them. He
wanted a better view, particularly for the end of the
walk, which he suspected would be the hardest part.
So he returned to the nook and settled himself there,
back against the wall, to watch the show.
Tassadar was moving slowly but surely through the
shadows. Somewhere before beginning the ordeal he
had shed his uniform and now wore only the long
loincloth, more ceremonial than necessary. His eyes
glowed blue-white, pinpricks in the darkness. Shad-
ows swirled about him, enveloping him as he walked.
Then the first Dark Templar struck.
It was difficult to follow, particularly from a dis-
tance. Raynor’s first clue came when Tassadar twisted
to one side, arm rising to block a blow. Then a protoss
was standing beside him, angling for position, his
hands wreathed in that strange beyond-dark glow Zer-
atul had manifested when saving Tassadar from the

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S301

zerg. Those hands swung toward the Executor and
Raynor thought he could feel the cold rising off them,
though he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on
him. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when Tassadar
blocked the first blow and tripped the warrior, sinking
to his knees alongside, his own hand lashing out to
land against his opponent’s chest and pin him to the
ground. That was a clear defeat, and the Dark Templar
did not rise as Tassadar straightened and resumed his
walk.
The second attack came from behind, a protoss
appearing from shadows Tassadar had just passed. This
one’s hands also bore the darkness, stretched between
them like a garrote torn from deep space, and with a
quick flick the protoss tossed the band over Tassadar’s
head and around his neck. The Dark Templar tugged
back sharply, planning to catch his quarry about the
throat and yank him off balance. But Tassadar raised
his right hand and his glittering psi-blade burst from it,
the blade slicing cleanly through the dark band and
scattering its shadowy substance. The warrior Tassadar
dispatched with three quick moves, one to the chest
and one to the throat and one to the space between the
glowing eyes, and then he was moving again.
Everyone was watching now, human and protoss
alike, knowing that this strange journey was somehow
important. Raynor could see the look of awe on the
faces of his men and knew he bore a similar expres-
sion. Tassadar’s complete focus, his grace, and the
powers he was demonstrating, seemingly without

302A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


effort, put most legends and fairy tales to shame. Here
was true power, true strength, manifested in a being
who lived among them and fought beside them. Here
was a true legend.
Tassadar’s warriors seemed less impressed and more
disquieted, though Raynor wasn’t sure how he was
getting that impression. They were all watching the
shadows intently, barely moving, and though he could
feel the occasional flutter he’d learned to recognize as
mental communication it was too far away and too
private for him to notice anything beyond its mere
presence. He understood, though. The Zealots had
watched their leader become friendly with Zeratul,
someone they had been raised to believe was an
enemy every bit as bad as the zerg. Even though they’d
learned to respect the Dark Templar, it was still asking
a lot for them to accept seeing their leader so chummy
with one. And now they were watching what was
clearly a test and an initiation. They probably worried
that Tassadar would betray them, would become as
dark and cryptic as the Praetor, and perhaps even as
evil and ruthless and deranged as their legends of
every Dark Templar. It was only their discipline and
their tremendous respect for Tassadar himself that was
keeping them from interfering.
Tassadar was halfway across the valley now. He had
faced more than a dozen of the Dark Templar, defeat-
ing each one in turn. Some he had conquered with
only his speed and strength. Others he had used his
psi-blades to disarm. Still others he had bested with

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S303

their own gifts, as when one had punched at him with
a dark-shrouded fist and Tassadar had caught the blow,
his own hand stealing the darkness and then releasing
it harmlessly back into the shadows. Each Dark Tem-
plar, as he was defeated, moved aside to let him pass.
But he still had half the valley to go, and many Dark
Templar yet to defeat—including Zeratul himself.
As Raynor watched, however, he noticed some-
thing strange. Tassadar’s eyes were still visible among
the shadows, but now he saw a faint speck of light
upon the protoss warrior’s chest as well. A second
appeared, then a third, forming an inverted triangle
above the Executor’s triple hearts. The tiny spots grew
brighter, as did Tassadar’s eyes, and slowly the glow
crept across the rest of his body, until his entire frame
was engulfed in a near-blinding light. It dispersed the
shadows around him, scattering them into small pock-
ets of stubborn darkness—pockets shaped much like
protoss warriors preparing to strike.
Raynor blinked. For just an instant, as the glow had
flared to full intensity, he thought he’d seen a flicker
from it, like a candle bending in a strong wind. Or a
faint shadow scurrying clear of the revealing light. But
now it was gone and he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.
He saw Tassadar, wreathed in light, continue his
slow, steady march along the valley floor. Several of
the Dark Templar straightened and let him pass with-
out a fight, apparently accepting his tactic as a win
since it had robbed them of their concealment and
their tactical advantage. Others attacked but could not

304A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


get close enough to strike, the light dazzling them and
forcing them back before they could reach him. And
still the Executor walked.
Finally he was just below the nook, and one last
patch of shadow remained before him. As Tassadar
approached the shadow spread out rather than shrink-
ing back, extending tendrils to wrap around him and
smother his light. The glow dimmed but did not die,
and in return it lanced deep into the darkness, strip-
ping away layers until the form of a tall, bent protoss
was revealed. Zeratul.
“Excellent,” the Praetor acknowledged, letting the
shadows fall away from him now that they were no
longer useful. “You have used both light and darkness
to good advantage. Your skill with your Templar gifts is
commendable, and you use our native gifts as one
born to them. Truly you are worthy.” Not for the first
time Raynor could hear the grin in the old protoss’s
mental voice, the hints of laughter wrapped around
every word. “Provided you can escape my grasp and
reach the gathering place beyond.”
Tassadar replied, the first time he had broadcast his
thoughts since the challenge began. “Come then, old
one, and let us see if my light or your darkness will
prevail.”
For an instant Zeratul’s eyes flared as if in anger, and
his response was sharp. “It is not about light or dark! I
have told you this! It is about using what we are
given!” Then, as if his anger spurred him on, the Prae-
tor attacked. The shadows rose about him again,

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 305

sheathing his limbs in their dark bands, and he drove
them forward like twin blades, skewering the glowing
form before him. Raynor almost called out in sympa-
thy, until he saw that Tassadar was unfazed. His glitter-
ing aura had been pierced—in fact, the dark blades had
driven deep into his shoulders as well—but he showed
no signs of pain or even surprise.
Instead it was Zeratul who stepped back, confused.
“Your mind is shuttered,” the old protoss noted.
“Good. But why conceal your thoughts when your
body glows so brightly?”
Raynor got it just as Zeratul did, and watched the
Praetor leap backward, pulling his blades free as he
moved and twisted around. Both of them knew it was
too late, however. One corner of the Dark Templar’s
shadow, an edge that had not wrapped back around
him as he’d moved to battle, had swept past while Zer-
atul struck at Tassadar. Now that same wisp of shadow
flowed up the rocks at the valley’s edge, to settle
squarely in the lesser shadows against the valley wall
behind where Raynor sat. And then the darkness
faded away, torn apart from within by a pair of small,
diamond-bright blue lights, and Tassadar stood there,
looking down upon Zeratul and the rest of the valley
behind him.
“A ploy, then,” the Praetor commented as he aban-
doned his own shadowy weaponry and climbed back
up to the nook himself. “The light a mere decoy as you
slipped past in shadow.”
Tassadar nodded but did not otherwise reply.

306A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


For an instant Zeratul glared at him. Then he
laughed, the mingled humor and pride washing over
them all in a wave and briefly uniting human, Zealot,
and Dark Templar alike.
“Wonderful!” Zeratul announced. “Inspired! Truly
you took advantage of your abilities, old and new
both, and our own prejudices as well. Without your
Templar training that tactic might have failed, but
without your newly awakened talents you could not
have succeeded.”
“Truly,” Tassadar agreed, “I can feel the energies
within me in ways as never before. The training I had
as a Templar was a mere fragment of the whole, a care-
fully controlled sample of what lay beneath.” He
bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“It is I who should thank you,” Zeratul replied. He
stepped forward and again placed both hands on Tas-
sadar’s shoulders. “And I greet you, brother, to the
ranks of those who walk the true path of our race,
through shadow and through light.” He straightened to
his full height and his next thought rippled across the
valley, filled with power and grandeur that made the
very rocks shake. “May you fulfill your destiny, child of
Adun,” Zeratul proclaimed, “and bring honor to us all.”
From the rest of the Dark Templar, now assembled
below them, came a mental shout, a wash of greetings
and admiration. And from Tassadar’s own warriors
came an answering flow of cautious congratulation—
respect for their leader and awe at his new skills, but
concern over what he would now become.

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 307

“Nice going,” Raynor said, offering his hand to Tas-
sadar. The Executor stared down at it for an instant,
then reached out and grasped it firmly in his own.
“Thank you, James Raynor.” Tassadar’s gaze swept
across Zeratul and then the Dark Templar and his own
Zealots, and even the rest of Raynor’s people at the far
end of the valley. “And thank you to all,” he added,
“for without the presence of so many, so different and
yet so alike, I could not—”
But whatever he meant to say next was cut short, as
a loud shriek split the air. An oily form followed it,
wings beating hard as its awkward body dove down
and acid flew from its mouth and splattered one of the
protoss, who fell to the ground writhing in pain. The
zerg had found them unawares. They were under
attack!

CHAPTER 19




“DAMN IT!” RAYNOR LEAPED DOWN FROM THE
nook and raced across the valley toward his men on the
far side. He continued cursing as he moved. Why hadn’t
they thought to keep lookouts? Because they’d all been
so entranced by the whole Shadow Walk thing. And
he’d let his men get sloppy lately, allowing them to
maintain only casual patrols, if that, because the protoss
were always on alert and could detect incoming zerg
better than they could, even in their suits.
And the suits! Their powered combat armor, so
damn useful in a fight, sitting there useless against the
valley wall. None of his men were suited up, though
several were hurriedly climbing into the armor now.
He just hoped they’d have time to get the suits up and
running.
“Cavez! Abernathy!” he shouted as he hit the mid-
point of the valley, hoping his voice would carry over
the noise of the dive-bombing zerg. “Get rifles up and
ready! Give us some cover fire!” Whether his two lieu-

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S309

tenants heard him or simply anticipated his command,
they turned and grabbed rifles, releasing a barrage of
ammo toward the incoming creatures. Other troopers
hoisted weapons as well, and soon the air above the
valley was filled with glittering shards as the rifles fired
wave after wave at the invaders.
By then Raynor was in the camp. He made a beeline
for his suit, still sitting off to one side, and climbed into
it as quickly as possible. He’d had years of experience
with powered armor and had it sealed and in motion
by the time he’d caught his breath from his run. Then
he reached over his shoulder, unslung the canister rifle
on his back, and began taking down zerg.
With the sky finally covered, the airborne zerg lost
their advantage. They’d killed several protoss in the first
wave but after that the Zealots and Dark Templar had
moved to the safety of the walls and the fliers couldn’t
hit them as easily. Of course, the winged zerg weren’t
the only ones attacking—this time it was a larger group
than usual, at least a hundred of them, and half were
ground-based. They’d apparently found the valley and
waited by the entrance until the fliers could distract
everyone, then charged in. Raynor’s camp was closest
to the valley’s front and so he and his men quickly
found themselves swamped by hydralisks, zerglings,
and ultralisks. The protoss moved to their aid and bol-
stered their ranks.
Raynor heard a strange noise over the sound of
gunfire, a keening moan, and risked a glance toward
the valley’s other end. He saw Tassadar’s Zealots using

310A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


their psi-blades to take down any zerg that got close,
and Zeratul’s Dark Templar doing the same thing on
the other side. He saw Zeratul himself, still perched in
that small nook, casting strange bands of darkness like
nets upon any flier that chanced nearby—even as he
watched a devourer plummeted to the ground, its
body wrapped in the inky strands.
And then he saw Tassadar.
The Executor had leaped down from the nook and
was fighting his way across the valley floor, taking his
Shadow Walk in reverse. Darkness rose behind him like
a cloak, a curve of cold shadow that the zerg apparently
could not pierce, but his glittering psi-blades flared from
his wrists, now longer than a man’s forearm and capa-
ble of reaching and searing through a soaring mutalisk
with a mere flick upward. Raynor saw the High Templar
turn and jerk his right arm in the direction of an
approaching devourer. The psi-blade on that wrist
lengthened somehow, going from a triangular blade to a
long tendril like a glowing whip, and crackled as it
lashed out. The gleaming tip struck the descending zerg
just above its gaping snout and lanced clean through,
causing a small spark of light to appear within the crea-
ture’s mouth. Then the spark exploded and the creature
fell, headless, to the ground as Tassadar retracted his
weapon and used it, bladelike once again, on a
hydralisk that had foolishly charged within range.
It was the most amazing display Raynor had ever
seen. He had watched Tassadar fight before, and the
protoss had always impressed him with his grace,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S311

speed, and accuracy. But now there was something
new. Not only did the Executor possess these strange
new gifts Zeratul had taught him, but he carried him-
self with more poise, more calm, more confidence. It
wasn’t posturing, either—if anything, the tall protoss
warrior made less show of his authority now, but that
somehow served only to deepen the aura of strength
and power he projected. The zerg began backing away
from him, sensing the same might Raynor saw, and
Tassadar used that advantage, forcing them into his
Zealots and the Dark Templar alike, clearing a path.
Within minutes the zerg had gone from conquering
invaders to desperate defenders, the surviving brood
members clustering together and striving to hold off
their foes while they searched for a way out.
Then a small blip appeared on Raynor’s screen and
he turned, tracking the new arrival the suit had
detected.
There, up along one of the ridges above the valley,
hovered a large, familiar shape. One of the zerg over-
lords. But where had it come from? It hadn’t been
there before or his systems would have marked it. And
the overlords were slow, clumsy, and vulnerable. They
were also vital to maintaining the brood, providing a
communications link between its controlling cere-
brate—and Kerrigan above it—and the rest of the zerg.
Kerrigan wouldn’t send one into the mountains with-
out adequate protection.
“Do not despair, my brethren,” the overlord called
down to the zerg still trapped in the valley. “More of

312A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


our brood are close by, and will reach us soon. Pull
back now, that your strength can add to the ferocity of
our renewed attack.”
Upon hearing this, the zerg below scattered. They
gave up all attempts to hold off the protoss and human
forces and scrambled for the walls, climbing and flying
and crawling up to the ridge and then over it. In less
than a minute they had vanished, leaving only their
dead behind.
“Yeah!” Non shouted, raising his rifle high in both
hands. “Run, you stinkers!”
“Shut it!” Raynor snapped at him. “Pack up! We’re
out of here!”
“What?” McMurty stopped slapping hands with one
of the other troopers and turned, confusion written
across his broad face. “But sir, we won! They’ve got
their tails between their legs!”
“They’re regrouping,” Raynor corrected him.
“They’ll be back in minutes, and a lot more of them this
time. We need to move on.” He gestured. “McMurty,
you and Ling take your rifles. I want you up on that
ridge. The minute you see zerg, you start shooting. Got
it?” He glanced at the rest of his crew. “Non, you and
Deslan are on the valley entrance. Same deal—stand
guard, keep frosty, and shoot anything that moves. The
rest of you, get this gear packed!”
For a second his men stared at him. The victory had
been so quick, so decisive, they clearly couldn’t believe
they were still in danger. But then their training kicked
in and Cavez and Abernathy began bellowing orders,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 313

organizing the rest of the troopers while the four
Raynor had singled out clambered up the slopes and
stood guard high above.
It took them only ten minutes to pack and get
moving, but Non began firing just as they had stowed
the last tent. Deslan joined him an instant later,
shouting, “Zerg! Heading toward us!” over his shoul-
der. It was the only good way out of the valley, but
not the only way possible—Tassadar was too sharp a
tactician to pick a site with no escape routes.
Everyone else moved to the far end of the valley, fil-
ing up into the small nook where Raynor had so
recently sat with his two protoss allies. Tassadar had
already leaped onto a long, narrow ledge above the
nook, which led them up and out of the valley and
back onto a nearby peak. The troopers in armor
helped those without to reach the ledge, then joined
them. The Zealots and Dark Templar followed, Zeratul
with them, and finally Raynor pulled his four guards
back, covering them as they raced across the valley
and then up and out. The zerg were still struggling to
enter the valley, climbing over those already slain,
when Raynor dropped down on the other side of the
ridge and joined the rest of his forces in the quick
march away from the recent battleground.


Several hours later, certain they had shaken their
pursuit, Tassadar selected another valley and led them
all beneath the shelter of its overhanging walls. They
set up camp again with the ease of long practice, but

314 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


this time Raynor set guards in armor to watch at
every corner. He wasn’t going to be surprised again.
“Nice call, chief,” McMurty admitted as they
crouched and ate some dried meat, washed down with
superheated sludge-coffee. “How’d you know they
were coming back?”
“I heard ’em talking,” Raynor admitted, taking a
cautious sip of his brew. “The overlord called them
back to regroup.”
He was still choking down the sludge when he real-
ized the valley had gone very quiet. Looking up from
his cup, he saw his men staring at him—and the pro-
toss, sitting beyond them, as well. Even Tassadar and
Zeratul were studying him closely, heads tilted to one
side, eyes narrowed as if unsure they had heard cor-
rectly.
“They talk?” Cavez asked softly. “But, Commander,
they don’t talk. None of them do.”
“What?” Raynor set his cup down and glared at his
young lieutenant. “‘Course they do. What, you think
I’d make this up? I heard ’em!”
“The Swarm do not speak,” Tassadar said, moving
forward and crouching beside Raynor. Zeratul moved
to his other side, he and Tassadar like a pair of statues
at his arms. “Not as you do.”
“They speak no more than we do,” Zeratul con-
firmed, his green eyes watching Raynor intently.
“What you call speech is not within their capabilities.”
Raynor shook his head. “That’s a crock!” he said,
slamming one fist against his leg. “I’ve heard ‘em!” He

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 315

stared at Zeratul, daring him to deny his next statement.
“So’ve you! What about when you talked to Zasz?”
The Praetor’s eyes widened. “You heard this? How?”
“I was there,” Raynor reminded him. “I watched the
whole thing.”
Zeratul tilted his head again, eyes narrowed now
in contemplation rather than mere confusion. “The
exchange was private,” he explained after a moment,
“a brief touch of minds that I might gauge the crea-
ture’s attitude and study the effect my attack had upon
it and its brood.” His eyes turned back toward Raynor.
“There were no words exchanged, not of the kind you
would use.”
“You’re saying they talk in your head?” Raynor
heard a hint of fear, actually more like terror, in
Cavez’s voice, and knew the younger man was imag-
ining what that must be like.
“I guess,” Raynor admitted slowly, thinking back. “I
haven’t actually seen their mouths move, now I think
about it. But I’ve definitely heard them.” He looked
over at Zeratul again. “How else would I have known
Zasz’s name? Or that they were regrouping today?”
“You speak truth,” Tassadar assured him from his
other side. “This information was too accurate to be
imagined. Somehow you have tapped into the Swarm’s
mind. You hear their thoughts to one another, just as
we protoss hear each other in our own mental speech.”
“Great.” Raynor pressed his hands to his temples,
hoping to squeeze the thoughts away. “I’m going
bonkers. That’s it, right? They say crazy people ‘hear

316 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


voices.’ Now I’m hearing ‘em too. Just my luck, the
voices I get are zerg.”
“Your mind is intact,” Zeratul replied, “and your
rationality undiminished.” For an instant Raynor felt a
soft, feathery touch inside his head, dry but gentle.
Then it was gone and the Praetor nodded slowly. “Ker-
rigan,” he announced.
“Kerrigan? What’s she got to do with this?” But
Raynor already had an idea what the Dark Templar
meant.
“Your minds are linked,” Zeratul confirmed. “She
reaches out to you through this link, both to deliver
you dreams and to monitor your welfare. But she is
not careful.” He chuckled, that raspy but soothing
mental effect that always reminded Raynor of dry
leaves in autumn. “She has not our experience at focus
or control. Though her power is formidable, she can-
not yet control it precisely.”
“What’s he talking about, sir?” Abernathy asked,
staring at Raynor, her face gone pale. Raynor sighed,
realizing he’d have to explain a few things he’d been
hoping to avoid.
“Kerrigan’s tapped into my head,” he told his crew,
ignoring the gasps that arose from his statement. “She’s
been messing with me for weeks, ever since we got
here, in fact.” Even before, actually, but he didn’t want
to go into that. “But it’s a two-way street.” He grinned at
Abernathy, and was reassured to see her smile back.
“She’s sloppy, and Zeratul can detect the tag she put on
me. He’s been using it to keep tabs on her location, at

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 317

least her general whereabouts. That’s part of how we’ve
been hitting them so well—we can tell if she’s nearby
and stay clear while taking out her troops.” He shook
his head, still absorbing the new information he’d just
been given. “I guess there’s another side effect. I can
hear them talk, somehow. The zerg.”
“You hear what she would hear, were she present,”
Tassadar explained. “She is linked to all her brood and
thus all their communication reaches her. Most she
ignores as beneath her notice, but she still receives it.
When you are near zerg and those zerg communicate,
her mind translates the thoughts into words you
would understand.”
“So she’s keeping up a running translation because
she hears it too, and automatically translates it into
Terran if they’re within my range?”
Tassadar and Zeratul both nodded in reply.
“Hunh.” Raynor leaned back and thought about this,
absently lifting his cup again and draining the thick liq-
uid within. “So we can tell where she is,” he said finally,
putting the empty cup back down beside him, “and we
can listen in on her troop reports.” He looked at the two
protoss leaders for confirmation, and when they nod-
ded again he felt a small, hard smile crease his face.
“That’s one helluva advantage,” he pointed out. He
glanced around, at the assembled protoss and humans,
not missing the fact that they were all there together, all
listening side by side, not as three separate teams but as
one larger unit. “I think,” he said finally, “it’s time we
stopped running. Let’s take the fight to her.”

CHAPTER 20




IT TOOK THEM TWO FULL DAYS TO HAMMER OUT
a plan. Surprisingly, Zeratul was the sticking point.
Tassadar had agreed with Raynor that the time for hit-
and-run tactics was past. But the Praetor was not as
easily convinced.
“We must not leap carelessly into the dark places,”
he warned Raynor and Tassadar as the three of them
sat together discussing their options. “Fight the zerg,
yes, but maintain our focus and do not expose our-
selves to unnecessary danger.” He stared at Tassadar as
if he expected the Executor to become reckless now
that he was a Dark Templar.
“No one’s saying we’re gonna throw our lives
away,” Raynor reassured the old protoss. “But we can’t
hide forever, and I’m sure sick of it. We’ve got the tools
to take her down—I say we use them and deal with
her brood once and for all.”
Tassadar, seated across from him, nodded. “I too feel

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S319

this conflict has continued past its proper time. We
must resolve the issue, and soon.”
Zeratul gave in then, though he continued to pro-
vide the voice of caution during their planning. But
finally they had a course of action even he liked. And
now they were putting it into effect.
The first step was Raynor’s. He lay down, closing his
eyes and taking slow, deep breaths until he felt himself
slipping into slumber. And, as he’d expected, he found
himself dreaming. He was standing on a small grassy
hill, looking out over a green valley nestled between
low, grain-covered mountains. The sun hung low in
the sky, casting streamers of pink and orange along the
horizon.
“Breathtaking,” a husky voice said in his ear. At the
same time he felt strong arms wrap around him from
behind, and a warm, curvaceous body press up against
him.
“Definitely,” he replied, trying to keep his voice and
his breathing steady even though his skin tingled
where she touched him. He twisted to look behind
him, and saw Kerrigan, the wholesome, happy Kerri-
gan of his fondest dreams.
“I wish we could stay like this forever,” she said
wistfully, tightening her hold on him and laying her
head on his shoulder so her long red hair cascaded
down over his shoulders and chest.
“Me too,” Raynor agreed, reaching up to clasp both
her hands in his own. “Sure beats the alternative.” For

320 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


an instant his mind flashed to the box canyon they
were currently using as a hideout.
Behind him he felt Kerrigan stiffen, then relax,
molding her body more tightly against him. “Oh,
Jimmy,” she said with a sigh, freeing one hand to
stroke his cheek. He turned in her embrace until he
was facing her, and was surprised to see tears glisten-
ing in her eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, her
voice thick, and she laid a soft kiss on his lips. Then she
smiled, a smile that was both sad and triumphant—
and vanished.
Raynor bolted upright, the dream driven from his
head. He was lying out in the open rather than in his
tent, and Zeratul was leaning over him, one gnarled
hand resting on his shoulder. The old protoss was
watching him closely, those pale green eyes narrowed.
“It went well?” the Praetor inquired.
“Perfect,” Raynor replied, standing up and running
a hand over his hair, shaking the last bits of sleep from
his head. “She took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.”
He grinned at Zeratul. “Nice job. I said exactly what
we’d discussed, and the image showed up right on
schedule.”
The Dark Templar’s chuckle rippled over him again,
and Zeratul’s eyes widened slightly, a sign that he was
definitely amused. “Potent indeed is your Queen of
Blades,” he explained, “yet for centuries I have experi-
enced the communion of minds; I know many tricks
she has not yet begun to suspect. And for one of such
might she lacks all subtlety.”

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S321

“Yeah,” Raynor agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“She always did.”
A motion to his side caught Raynor’s attention as
Tassadar stirred and stepped closer to them. They had
agreed that his linking to both protoss might have
aroused even Kerrigan’s suspicions.
“All set,” Raynor assured the Executor, who nodded.
“You are certain?” Tassadar asked softly, and Raynor
knew what he meant. Both protoss understood the
deep feelings Raynor still had for Kerrigan.
“This attack does not require your participation,”
Zeratul agreed. “Your part is done. You may step aside
and leave us to finish the matter, thus freeing you from
confrontation.”
“Thanks,” Raynor said, and meant it. They all knew
that, while the Zealots and Dark Templar might be able
to do this alone, they’d stand a better chance with
Raynor and his men alongside them. Though Cavez
and Abernathy would do whatever he said, even lead
the fight without him, they all knew he couldn’t just
sit by and watch his troopers go into battle without
him. Nor could he let his friends take the risk alone.
“I can handle it,” he said slowly, searching his head
and heart as he spoke. “It’d hurt, taking her down, but
I can do it. I have to do it. We all do.” He thought again
about Kerrigan as she’d become, as he’d seen her—
taunting enemies, licking their blood from her claws,
laughing at their misfortune—and shuddered. Yes, the
woman he loved was still in there, but she was more
than that now. She wasn’t just Sarah Kerrigan any-

322 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


more—she was the Queen of Blades. The enemy. And
for all their sakes, she had to die.
“Very well.” Tassadar rested one hand on Raynor’s
shoulder, and he could feel the sympathy and support
pouring from the tall protoss. “We fight together, then,
our fates still bound as one.” The Executor nodded to
Zeratul as well, and then he was moving, his long
strides carrying him swiftly from the canyon and over
the ridge beyond, toward the caves that lay just past
them. They had deliberately chosen a location close to
the hive entrance.
“Explain to me again why he’s going and not you,”
Raynor asked as he and Zeratul watched their friend
disappear. “You’ve done this before.”
“Indeed,” Zeratul replied, and his thoughts bore
that heavy echo they sometimes carried when he
spoke of important matters. “He requires the experi-
ence, however.” That was what he’d told Tassadar as
well, when suggesting the Templar handle this portion
of the plan. “I have demonstrated the technique,” the
Praetor had explained, “yet to fully grasp it you must
perform it yourself.”
“All right,” Raynor said finally, turning away from
the place where he’d last seen Tassadar. “Let’s get to
work.”


It felt like hours, but Raynor knew from his suit
that it was only ten minutes before the first zerg
appeared. He heard them before he saw them.
“Are you sure this is wise, mistress?” came a flutter-

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 323

ing voice Raynor knew must be one of the overlords.
“Taking our full strength when we do not know for
certain—”
“Silence!” Kerrigan hissed, and the overlord wisely
obeyed. “I tire of these games! We will find the little
templars and their playmates and crush them all!”
Turning, Raynor signaled to his men, who were sta-
tioned beside him along the ridgetop. He didn’t dare
risk verbal communications with the zerg so close, but
that was fine. They’d worked it all out beforehand.
“Go, and scout the area,” Kerrigan ordered a
moment later, and Raynor was sure he could feel the
rush of air as the bulky overlord took flight.
It seemed like a mere heartbeart before his suit reg-
istered the approaching zerg, and he forced himself to
stay still, gesturing for the others to do the same. They
crouched there, hidden by the rocky overhang, their
suits coated in ash to make them blend more closely,
and waited.
At last he saw the shadow fall across the rocks to his
left, and knew the overlord had arrived. An instant
later he heard its update.
“I have found them, mistress!” Its mental call carried
a note of triumph and pride. “They are in the canyon,
just as you said!”
This was what Raynor had been waiting to hear.
“Now!” he shouted, and Non and Ling opened fire.
Their rifles had already been trained on the overlord
and cut the bulky zerg to shreds, its lifeless body falling
across the ridgetop not far from where Raynor waited.

324A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


As soon as the corpse dropped, he and his men were
moving. So were the protoss below. They scrambled up
and out of the canyon, using a narrow path Tassadar
had found for that purpose. Raynor scuttled along the
ridgetop, keeping low, until he and his troopers were
safely beneath an overhang. It had taken a while to
find a place that had everything they needed.
“They have destroyed your overlord, mistress!” he
heard another zerg declare from somewhere nearby,
but the creature was beyond his suit’s range. Only Ker-
rigan’s mental powers were letting him hear their com-
munications at all. Which is what he had counted on.
“It matters not,” she replied. “We know where they
are. Swarm the canyon, my brood! Fill its walls with
your flesh, smother the protoss and the humans with
your bodies! Let none survive!”
“Here they come,” Raynor muttered to himself. His
hands tightened on the canister rifle and he reflexively
checked the readouts on his suit. Green across the
board. He was ready, at least physically. Mentally, he
wasn’t so sure. Could he kill Kerrigan if it came down
to that? He was about to find out.
The zerg came boiling over the ridge and through
the mouth of the valley, just as Kerrigan had com-
manded. There were more of them than Raynor had
seen at any time since that first excursion into the cav-
erns, several hundred at least, and he was a little
shaken despite their careful planning. All those raids,
all those zerg they had killed, and still her brood out-
numbered them at least three to one! If things didn’t

Q U E E N O F B L A D E S 325

go exactly as planned this could easily become a
slaughter—with him and his men and their allies as
the victims.
He had to trust that Tassadar would handle his end.
Fortunately, he couldn’t see the Templar as someone
who considered failure an option.
Staying still was difficult. Every muscle in Raynor’s
body, every impulse, screamed at him to stand up and
start firing. There were so many zerg it would be
impossible to miss. But that wasn’t the plan. He had to
stick to the plan, he reminded himself again and again.
It was their only chance to survive this thing, much
less win it.
As the brood topped the rise and started down into
the canyon, he heard their mental cries change from
glee to confusion, from hatred to rage. Several faltered,
only to be dragged along by their kin in the mad rush
to the bottom. Soon all the zerg were there, milling
about, searching desperately for something to attack.
The only problem was, there wasn’t anything there.
“What?” Kerrigan was the last one down, her wing-
spikes flared as if to slow her descent, long claws digging
into the rock as she skidded toward the bottom. It was
the first time Raynor had seen her in the flesh since
teaming with the protoss, and his breath caught in his
throat. Despite the dreams, despite what she had
become, he had forgotten how beautiful she was, and
her presence sent him reeling. If she had confronted
him now he wouldn’t have been able to pull the trigger,
or do much of anything. Fortunately she was focused

326A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


on something else entirely. Specifically, on the canyon
floor—and its complete and utter lack of targets.
“Where are they?” she screamed, her wings flexing
in rage, hands closing spasmodically as if they would
tear the very air apart in search of her prey. “They were
here!”
Her brood looked around as well, but no one
answered. They didn’t know either. Instead they all
stood there, uncertain what to do next.
And that was the perfect moment. “Now!” Raynor
whispered, though he knew no one would hear him.
That was fine. He wasn’t the one sending the signal
this time.
From his vantage point, he could just see the shad-
owy ledge near the far end of the canyon. And, magni-
fied by his suit’s targeting system, he thought he saw a
faint green gleam at one end. But even without a
visual he knew that Zeratul stood there, and that right
now the Praetor was reaching out telepathically,
through the link he had forged with Tassadar.
And the Executor, hearing the mental signal he had
waited for, turned toward the creature he had snuck
up on so stealthily. And struck.
“Arghhh!” Kerrigan reeled backward, hands clasped
to her head, wings scraping the wall as she staggered
into it. And all around her, her brood erupted into
chaos and violence and frenzy.
“No! Stop!” she shouted, one hand still pressed to
her temple, but it was to no avail. The brood had lost
control.

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 327

And that was the signal for Raynor and his men to
stand up and start shooting. The zerg weren’t able to
control themselves, and they died beneath the barrage,
unable to focus long enough to realize their enemies
stood upon the ridge rather than down with them in
the canyon.
“Like fish in a barrel!” Non shouted as he cut a
hydralisk in half with one burst. “Damn!”
It had gone perfectly.
They had known they couldn’t take Kerrigan and
her brood in a fair fight. So they’d made sure it wasn’t
fair. First Raynor had let her see their location. Then
they’d let the overlord confirm it. But they’d left only
a handful of protoss in the canyon, just enough to con-
vince the zerg it had seen the entire force. Once it was
dead they’d pulled everyone out along the walls. The
canyon had high, steep walls and a nice wide space at
the bottom—a perfect killing ground. The zerg thought
they’d sweep in and take their opponents by surprise,
overwhelming them before they could respond or flee.
But they hadn’t realized Raynor, Tassadar, and Zeratul
had orchestrated all this.
Nor had they known that, while Kerrigan was lead-
ing her entire brood out of the caves, Tassadar was slip-
ping past them, cloaked in shadows. Or that he would
wait patiently beside the nameless cerebrate, who
alone among the brood was too large to leave the cav-
erns. And, when Zeratul gave the word, Tassadar
struck just as Zeratul had with Zasz, killing the cere-
brate and severing its link to its brood.

328 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Driving them insane.
Kerrigan was strong enough to control her own
brood, of course. But she wasn’t trained for it, or bred
for it. She had been created for a different purpose. So
when her cerebrate died she was unable to take com-
mand and reestablish the links. She was powerless to
stop her brood from collapsing into a mad frenzy,
slaughtering each other by sheer reflex.
And the rifle fire from on high cut them down that
much more quickly.
“Come out, little templar!” Kerrigan howled, scraping
the claws of one hand along the valley wall for empha-
sis. Several of Raynor’s troops targeted her with their
rifles but the high-velocity metal spikes stopped just shy
of hitting her, rebounding from a glittering, almost oily
disturbance in the air around her. She ignored them,
weapons and shooters alike. “I know you are here!” she
shouted instead, eyes narrowed as she searched every
nook and cranny. “I can feel you! Face me!”
A moment passed, and no reply. Kerrigan reached
out then and snagged a devourer from the air, her
wings pinning it against the wall beside her. “Obey!”
she commanded, and Raynor was sure he saw a burst
of yellowish-green light leap from her eyes and into
those of the captive zerg. Its struggling ceased immedi-
ately, and when she released it it hovered above her,
awaiting orders. She did this with several more, taking
them one at a time, until she had five devourers once
more linked to her. Then she grinned and looked
straight at Raynor.

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 329

“Kill the humans,” she instructed, and the airborne
zerg hastened to obey.
Next she reclaimed a trio of hydralisks and set them
to scouring the edges of the canyon, avoiding their
still-crazed brethren and searching for the elusive pro-
toss. Raynor caught only glimpses of her actions then,
because he and his men were busy fending off the
devourers, which swooped in quickly and moved too
fast for them to shoot down at such close range. By the
time they’d taken down the last one Raynor had lost
several of his troopers and needed a minute to locate
Kerrigan again.
A large portion of her brood was dead now, the bod-
ies strewn about the canyon floor. And the protoss had
apparently decided they were tired of waiting to be
found. Or perhaps they felt she needed an additional
distraction to keep her from restoring order to the rest
of her zerg minions. Whatever the reason, Raynor
stepped away from the last devourer and glanced
down just in time to see a pair of Zealots leap at Kerri-
gan, psi-blades glittering in an arc.
Kerrigan’s wings blocked the first warrior’s attack,
shearing partway through his arm in the process, and
her claws tore the second one’s arm from his shoulder,
tossing it aside in a shower of blood. Then her wing-
tips pierced the first one’s chest, neck, and head, even
as a vicious backhand ripped the second’s head off. She
let the bodies fall behind her, but she had noticed their
origin point and turned her attention toward the
ledge.

330A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


Next to attack her were two Dark Templar, materi-
alizing from the shadows on either side and stabbing
quickly toward her with their psi-blades. But she had
apparently sensed their presence, and her wings drove
them back before they could reach her. One fell against
an ultralisk, which bellowed and used its massive tusks
to carve him open. The other righted himself and
attacked again but Kerrigan’s hands drove forward,
into and then through his chest, and the poor protoss
was dead before his body hit the ground.
Kerrigan straightened and made a show of wiping
the blood from her hands. “Once again,” she called, “I
grow tired of slaughtering your servants. Have the
mighty Templars lost their infallible courage?”
“Well spoken, concubine of the zerg,” came the
reply. It was Zeratul, still ensconced in shadows, and
his statement reverberated through the valley, the
power in it causing several zerglings to collapse in
helpless spasms. “But though we strike at you from the
shadows,” the Praetor continued, “do not think that
we lack the courage to stand in the light. You would do
well to abandon this attack.”
“You seem overconfident of your abilities, dark one,”
Kerrigan answered, snarling, her eyes attempting to
burn holes in the shadows of the ledge. “I am no help-
less cerebrate to be assailed under cover of darkness. I
am the Queen of Blades, and my stare alone would
reduce you to ashes.” She stalked toward the end of
the valley, those zerg still alive smart enough to move
out of her way. “You and your ilk cease to amuse me,”

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S331

she called out as she neared the ledge. With a single
leap, wing-spikes beating behind her, she reached the
ledge. “Prepare yourself for oblivion’s embrace,” she
announced, and a sickly yellow light rose from her
flesh, driving back the shadows. Zeratul and his Dark
Templar stood revealed before her, and Kerrigan
smiled, a nasty, hungry smile, when she saw him.
“Now, protoss,” she all but purred, flexing her wing-
spikes and her clawed fingers, “you shall know my
wrath. Now you will know the fury of the Queen of
Blades!”
She lashed out, her wings piercing the nearest Dark
Templar and then sweeping outward to fling his body
from the ledge and into the zerg still rioting below. Zer-
atul gestured and the rest of his warriors leaped down,
skirting the crazed zerg and climbing up toward the
ridge where Raynor and his men stood and picked off
those zerg who showed signs of leaving the general
chaos. The Praetor himself waited calmly for Kerrigan
to reach him, his eyes blazing and an answering gleam
emerging above his wrists as his psi-blades ignited.
“Come then, Queen,” he challenged her, “and let us
see if either of us fares better than the last time we
crossed paths.” The darkness rose up around him again,
though it did not conceal him. Instead it hung about
him like a mantle, in much the way Tassadar had used
it recently, for protection.
Tassadar! Whether it was Zeratul’s thinking of the
Executor that triggered it or a mere coincidence,
Raynor suddenly caught a glimpse of motion at the top

332 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


of the canyon’s back wall, above that same ledge. It
was a mere flicker, nothing more, a brief hint of color
against the ash-coated rocks, but somehow he knew
what it meant. Tassadar had returned! And with that
knowledge Raynor realized something else—Zeratul
was stalling, biding his time until he and the Executor
could attack Kerrigan together.
“Aw, hell,” Raynor muttered. “Cavez, Abernathy,
keep everybody sharp. I’ve got something I need to
do.” And he started making his way around the side of
the canyon, eyes still focused upon that ledge, rifle idly
picking off random zerg as he went.
During the planning stage he and the two protoss
commanders had agreed that none of them could take
Kerrigan alone. Two together stood a slim chance, but
all three would fare better. And that’s what they’d
decided to do—attack her together, all at once. And
now here were Zeratul and Tassadar getting into posi-
tion without him. Damn it! On the one hand he was
furious that they would try to cut him out of the
attack. On the other, he was relieved at the thought
that he wouldn’t have to face Kerrigan in battle, that
he wouldn’t have to make that hard decision. And on
yet another hand he realized that was why his friends
were about to act without him, to spare him that prob-
lem. Which was entirely too many hands.
“I said I’d do it,” he whispered to himself as he half-
ran along the ridgeline, “and I will.”
Zeratul was still taunting Kerrigan, still staying out-
side her reach. Tassadar was almost to the ledge now,

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S 333

moving carefully and quietly, the noise from below
providing plenty of cover. And Raynor was a hard
jump away. Another second and they’d have her.
They didn’t get it.
“Enough!” Kerrigan shouted, her temper finally flar-
ing out of control. She lunged at Zeratul, both wings
lancing forward over her shoulders, determined to
spear him and tear him open. His darkness blunted the
blow but could not stop it entirely, the glow around her
body piercing it as her claws hoped to pierce his flesh,
and he was shoved back against the wall. As he parried
a blow from her right hand, the left clipped him on the
shoulder, leaving deep scratches there, and his brow
furrowed in pain. But he did not fall or falter.
“No pretty words now, little protoss?” Kerrigan asked
mockingly, waving her claws before him. “No challenges
or cryptic replies? Nothing left to say?” Zeratul did not
reply. “Then die!”
She speared again, claws and wings both, all aimed
for his chest. Raynor, seeing her dart forward, gave up
on subtlety and hurled himself at her, pivoting midair
to plant his heavy boots on her back and smash her to
the ground.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Fortunately, Tassadar was.
The High Templar had been right above the ledge
and swung himself down as she moved, flipping for-
ward with both hands gripping the rock just above
Zeratul’s head. As Tassadar uncurled, his legs swept
down, knocking Kerrigan to one side and causing her

334 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


hands and wing-spikes to grate harmlessly against the
valley wall, inches from where Zeratul stood. Then
Tassadar released his grip and dropped the rest of the
way, to stand beside his friend and mentor.
“Now, o Queen of Blades,” he announced, “you shall
face us both.”
Kerrigan straightened and began to reply. But
before she could speak Raynor’s feet struck her full
force, sending her sprawling. He stumbled himself, but
caught himself with one arm and stayed upright.
Now they were all there, he and Tassadar and Zer-
atul, in a rough triangle. And Kerrigan stretched out
between them.
It was Tassadar who reacted first. His psi-blades
flared into existence even as he dropped to one knee,
fists plunging toward her head and neck. Her wing-
spikes arced up, however, catching his wrists and turn-
ing his attack.
Zeratul was right beside Tassadar, his own psi-blades
aimed not at Kerrigan’s head but at her wings. These
blows connected, and Kerrigan screamed as the glitter-
ing green beams cut into her appendages, ichor seep-
ing from the wounds.
Raynor leaned in as well, canister rifle at the ready.
He rested the barrel against her head and—overruling
the cries from deep within his heart—pulled the trigger.
And just as he did, Kerrigan raised herself to a
crouch and pivoted, one leg sliding out to trip him.
Despite the suit’s servos he toppled, the gun firing
spikes in an arc along the valley wall. She was on him

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S335

before his back hit the ledge, clinging to his chest like
an oversized spider, her face inches from his helmet.
“We’ll play later, Jimmy,” Kerrigan assured him
softly, her eyes glittering. She planted a kiss on his
faceplate even as her fingers twitched along his side,
then she was spinning away from him. He tried to rise
but discovered he couldn’t move. His suit was frozen.
“Damn it!” Raynor let loose a whole volley of
curses, thrashing as best he could within the suit’s con-
fines. She’d triggered the emergency lockdown! It was
meant to help immobilize wounded troopers, or to
shut down a shorted-out suit before it could misfire.
Kerrigan knew these suits at least as well as he did,
maybe better, and she’d activated his lockdown, trap-
ping him inside until someone could set him free. All
he could do was lie there, stretched out on the ledge,
and watch the battle that would occur just above him.
Now that he had no chance to participate in it, he
wanted to do that more than anything.
He watched as Zeratul and Tassadar faced off against
Kerrigan, their psi-blades versus her wings and claws.
The two protoss moved together perfectly, each
motion complementing the other, their attacks in per-
fect harmony, a mix of shadows and light, strength and
wisdom, knowledge and power. It was a devastating
charge, and Raynor knew that few creatures could sur-
vive it.
Kerrigan was one of them.
Her wings acted of their own accord, it seemed, par-
rying and attacking without her conscious control, so

336A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


that she always fought with an ally at her back. Their
spikes blocked strikes and stabbed back in return, scor-
ing both protoss several times, and her claws were just
as fast, leaving furrows in their skin. The yellow glow
around her intensified, weakening their shadows and
blocking their light, and she moved with the grace and
danger of a panther, lithe and lovely and deadly.
Tassadar drove his blade toward Kerrigan’s heart
and she caught his wrist between her wings, stopping
the attack inches from her chest and trapping his hand.
She spun then, hands rising to ensnare his wrist, wings
flaring to hurl Zeratul back against the wall with such
force he dropped to his knees. Tassadar raised a
shadow around himself but Kerrigan tore it away with
one glowing wing, and then she slowly, deliberately
pierced his side with the other, until the pain made
him wince and the shadows fled.
“Trapped again, little protoss?” she whispered to
Tassadar, tugging him to her until her lips brushed his
leathery cheek. “How familiar this all seems, yes?” She
smiled and twisted the wing within him, the pain so
intense he would have fallen if she had not held him
up. “The end to our little drama. I swore to kill you
slowly, but I think not. You are too dangerous to risk.
So, this is farewell, little protoss. You led me on a
merry chase.” She kissed him on the brow, right
between the eyes, and her other wing reared up
behind her, spikes angled to strike all three of his
hearts at once.
“No!” Zeratul’s cry roared through their minds,

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 337

shaking the rocks all around, sending loose stone
down into the valley and overwhelming many of the
surviving zerg in an instant. Kerrigan merely grinned
at him.
“Do not worry, Dark Templar,” she assured him. “You
will be next.” Then she turned and slowly, provoca-
tively, winked at Raynor. “You I’m saving for last, dear
Jimmy.” Her wing-spikes flared outward again, then
leaped forward—
—as the ledge just beyond her disappeared in a
shower of fine dust, obliterated by a beam of light so
intense it was colorless.
A beam that had come from the graceful ship
descending upon them now.
A protoss ship.
A second beam lanced out, carving away more of
the ledge. A dozen zerg disappeared as well, caught in
the beam near the cavern floor. And Kerrigan reeled
backward, one arm raised to shield her eyes from the
light. Tassadar dropped to the ground as she stepped
away.
“This is not over,” she assured the three sprawled
before her. “There will be a reckoning.” Then she
leaped forward, her claws stabbing deep into the rock
overhead and pulling her up above the ledge and onto
the ridgeline. She quickly vaulted that crest and disap-
peared from view.
“Indeed there shall.” Zeratul’s thought was so soft
Raynor wondered if it had been meant as a reply or if
it was merely the Praetor’s own musings. “But a reck-

338 A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


oning for whom?” Then the Praetor reached forward
and helped Tassadar stand.
“Can you stand, James Raynor?” Tassadar asked
after a second, ignoring his own wounds to stagger
over to where Raynor lay.
“Not without unlocking this thing,” Raynor replied.
“Give me a hand, willya?” He thought about the
sequence to remove the lockdown, and the tall protoss
nodded and duplicated the process. Raynor sighed
with relief as the suit’s warning lights blinked out and
he felt control return. Then he took his friend’s hand
and stood up.
“Well,” he said after he was on his feet again. He
glanced up at the protoss ship, still on the descent, and
then down at the carnage below. Most of Kerrigan’s
brood was dead, and though here and there a protoss
or human body lay among them, by far the largest
body count belonged to the zerg. Raynor grinned at his
two allies.
“That went better than I expected.”

EPILOGUE




THEY STOOD THERE, WATCHING THE SHIP DESCEND.
But Raynor noticed that Zeratul had stepped back into
the shadows, and was fading from view even as he
turned to comment.
“Hey!” Raynor said. “What gives?”
Tassadar turned as well, and the Praetor reappeared
from the darkness, though it seemed he did so grudg-
ingly. “The time has not yet come for us to return to
our brethren,” he told them gravely. “It would be best
if we were not present when the ship alighted.”
Raynor started to protest, but Tassadar merely nod-
ded and stepped forward. “I will honor your decision,”
the Executor stated, his thoughts strong and soothing as
always. He rested his hands on the older protoss’s shoul-
ders. “But know that your counsel shall be missed . . .
my brother.”
Zeratul placed his hands on Tassadar’s shoulders as
well. “Thank you, my brother. Know that you will
always be in my thoughts, and thus close to my spirit.

340A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


If you have need of me I shall find you.” Then he
turned to Raynor and nodded so deeply his chin
scraped his chest. “Fare well, James Raynor,” the Dark
Templar intoned, his words ringing through Raynor’s
head. “Truly you are protoss in spirit if not in flesh, and
I acknowledge you as a brother in kind if not in race. If
ever you require aid I will be there as well.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Raynor reached out to clasp Zer-
atul’s hand. “But hey, where’re you gonna go?” He
jerked his free hand back toward the descending ship.
“That’s the only ride in town.”
Zeratul’s eyes crinkled in what Raynor recognized
as the protoss equivalent of a smile. “Not quite,” he
admitted.
“What? That cerebrate Daggoth said he destroyed
both your ships!”
“So he thought,” the Praetor said. “But for centuries
I have honed my arts, and long ago I mastered illusions
such as no zerg could penetrate.” Raynor could hear
the old protoss’s mental laughter. “Though he thought
his mission successful, yet the Void Seeker waits for my
return.”
“Wait a second.” Raynor shook his head to make
sure he’d heard right. “You’re saying your ship is
intact?” Zeratul nodded. “But what the hell? We were
stranded here for weeks—months! And you could
have left at any time? Why the hell did you stick
around? Why didn’t you get off this rock?”
The Praetor looked at him, pale green eyes guileless
for once. “Such was not my destiny,” he replied. He

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S341

turned to look at Tassadar. “I was meant to be here, as
were we all. Thus has our race’s future been assured.”
Then, without a sound, he bowed and backed away,
disappearing into the shadows.
“Hunh.” Raynor stared after him for a moment,
then turned back to Tassadar. “Well, guess that leaves
just us, eh?” The tall protoss nodded—he had not
watched Zeratul go, and was now looking at the arriv-
ing protoss ship again.
Together they watched the protoss ship finally
touch down. It looked almost exactly like the ship Tas-
sadar himself had arrived in, and Raynor thought
about the changes that had occurred since he had
watched that first ship land and the Executor emerge.
Back then the protoss had been a strange, alien race,
possibly allies but possibly enemies and certainly dan-
gerous and unreadable. Now he stood here with one of
their high commanders, side by side, and knew he
could trust the protoss with his life and those of his
men. It seemed like so little time had passed, but at the
same time it felt like an eternity.
The ramp unfurled from the ship’s side and the door
irised open. Several protoss warriors stepped out and
arrayed themselves at the ramp’s base, standing at
attention as two tall figures followed them down.
Raynor recognized them immediately as the two he
had seen when Tassadar, with Zeratul’s help, had con-
tacted his people to warn them of the Swarm invasion.
The first one, Aldaris, wore the same long heavy robes
of crimson and gold, the long hood still covering his

342 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


face completely so that only his blue-gray eyes were
visible beneath the shadowy cowl. The second figure
was the one Aldaris had called Executor and Tassadar
had named Artanis, and his garb was the same as Tas-
sadar’s, though the newcomer’s clothing and armor
were undamaged and glittered in the weak sunlight.
His sky-blue eyes locked on Tassadar immediately and
he looked only at the High Templar as he approached,
projecting a mixture of friendship, respect, and embar-
rassment.
Tassadar saw them both and strode forward eagerly,
his eyes ablaze. Raynor followed behind him.
“Aldaris?” Tassadar called as he approached. “Arta-
nis? How is it that you’ve come here? I was about to
abandon all hope of rescue!”
He and the newcomers were now face-to-face, with
Raynor right beside Tassadar. The High Templar bowed
slightly, a mark of respect among equals, and Artanis
matched his movements. Aldaris did not, however,
and his eyes narrowed instead.
“I have come to arrest you,” the Judicator stated, his
mental words as cool and distant as his eyes, “and
bring you home to Aiur to stand trial.”
Tassadar straightened and stepped back slightly,
eyes widening in obvious surprise. “Arrest me? Aiur
burns at the touch of the zerg, and you travel all this
way to arrest me?”
“Don’t let it get to you, man,” Raynor said, knowing
what his friend was going through. “This happened to
me once. . . .” He flashed back to his own arrest and

Q U E E NO F B L A D E S343

incarceration, back on Mar Sara, and how Mike Lib-
erty had rescued him and then introduced him to Arc-
turus Mengsk. It had been the first step on the long
road that had led him here.
Aldaris turned and stared at him, his eyes cold.
“Who is this human, Tassadar?” Raynor could feel the
disdain in his question, and bristled at it.
“The name’s Jim Raynor, pal,” he replied, stepping
forward to glare at the protoss commander. “And I
won’t be talked down to by anybody. Not even a pro-
toss.”
“Amusing . . . ,” Aldaris said, though his eyes and
his tone showed no humor. “Tassadar, your taste in
companions grows ever more inexplicable.” He turned
back toward Artanis. “Executor, prepare to take Tas-
sadar into custody.”
Tassadar turned to study the second protoss, and his
eyes narrowed for an instant. Then he nodded. “I did
not fully appreciate the change in title before,” he
admitted. “You have been promoted to my former
position, Artanis. I take it, then, that I no longer hold
that title?”
Artanis fidgeted slightly, which made Raynor think
he must be young. In some ways this sky-eyed protoss
warrior reminded him of Cavez. “The Conclave felt it
best,” the new Executor replied. “I am sorry, Tassadar.”
Raynor could feel the warrior’s sincerity, and he was
sure Tassadar could as well.
“You are a wise choice,” Tassadar assured the
younger protoss. “I know you will protect our people

344A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


well.” Artanis dipped his head, and Raynor was sure
he would have been blushing if the protoss had been
capable of such a feat.
“Enough of this,” Aldaris commanded, and with a
gesture he summoned the guards waiting nearby. “You
will be held, Tassadar—you and your companion—until
such time as we may return to Aiur for your sentencing
and punishment.” The scorn radiating from the Judica-
tor left no doubt about the verdict he expected.
“Executor, wait,” Tassadar asked, raising both hands.
“I do not know what they have told you about me, but
what I’ve done, I’ve done for Aiur. Help me find Zeratul
and his Dark Templar.” If he noticed how Aldaris and
many of the warriors recoiled at the name, he ignored
it. “They alone can defeat the Overmind’s cerebrates.
Once we’ve won I’ll gladly submit myself to the judg-
ment of the Conclave.”
Aldaris’s eyes blazed with anger. “Unthinkable!” he
announced, the word ringing like steel. “You presume
that we would side with the Dark Ones as you have?
You have gone quite mad, Tassadar.”
This time it was Tassadar’s eyes that flared, and even
Aldaris backed away, clearly awed by the power the
Executor wielded. “You shall speak of them with
respect, Aldaris.” Then he calmed himself and turned
back toward Artanis. “Executor, there is much that I
can explain to you, if only you’ll help me find Zeratul.”
“I thought he said he wasn’t ready to rejoin your
society,” Raynor pointed out quietly.
“He said the time had not yet come,” Tassadar cor-

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 345

rected him. “I have reconsidered, however. I believe
we must stand together once again if we are to protect
our homeworld.”
“You think he’s reached his ship yet?” Raynor
asked. Tassadar shook his head.
“Our minds are still linked,” the High Templar
explained. “I would know if he had departed this
world.” He turned back toward the newly arrived pro-
toss and addressed not Aldaris, who stood seething in
front of him, but Artanis and the warriors behind him.
“Hear me, my brethren,” he called, his words a sooth-
ing blanket that drifted across their minds. “You know
me, for I am Tassadar, High Templar and once Executor
of our forces. However, I speak to you now not as your
leader but as your brother. Our world, our people are
in danger. Only by reclaiming our ancient birthright
may we save them. And only the Dark Templar, whom
we have wronged these long centuries, can aid us in
this process.” The warriors stood unmoving, neither
accepting nor rejecting, and Tassadar nodded. “If you
cannot accept them yet, so be it. But I ask that you
trust me in this matter, for truly it is the only path for
our survival.”
“You have become corrupted!” Aldaris claimed, but
Artanis stepped forward and held up one hand, palm
out. Tassadar mirrored him, and the two protoss
touched palms, a faint glow forming between and
around them. They stood thus for a moment before the
young Executor lowered his hand and stepped away.
“The tenor of your thought is different,” Artanis

346A A R O NR O S E N B E R G


admitted, “but I sense no evil about you. And your
devotion to our world and our people is as strong as
ever.” He bowed. “I will trust in your wisdom, noble
Tassadar. It shall be as you wish.”
“You defy my orders?” Aldaris’s mental query was
as sharp as a well-honed knife, and Raynor could feel
the anger that accompanied it. This one was a danger-
ous foe. But Artanis, for all his youth, faced the Judi-
cator with composure.
“You wish Tassadar returned to Aiur,” he stated.
“And so he shall be. His impressive achievements for
our race have earned him respect, however, and we
shall not treat him as a criminal. Let him go before the
Conclave with his head held high, that all might hear
him and judge for themselves whether he has done
right. We shall retrieve these Dark Templar, too, as Tas-
sadar suggests, and bring them before the Conclave as
well. For surely our people would know the truth of
this matter, and within the Khala none may dissem-
ble.” For an instant the young Executor’s eyes blazed a
vivid cobalt blue, a glimpse of strength waiting to be
tapped and daring to be challenged, and Raynor got
the message. As did Aldaris, apparently, for the Judica-
tor backed away and did not again object. The protoss
warriors moved forward then, flanking the four of
them. But Raynor could see from their posture, and
the way they bowed to Tassadar, that they were treat-
ing him as their commander again, or at least as an
honored guest, rather than a prisoner.
“You have my thanks, Executor,” Tassadar told

Q U E E NO FB L A D E S 347

Artanis, nodding in return. “Now let’s find Zeratul and
speed our way home.”
He turned back toward Raynor. “And what of you,
James Raynor?”
Raynor started to reply, but just then a small light
began blinking in his helmet. It took him a minute to
realize what it meant. It was an incoming call.
He stared at it for a second. A call? He and his men
had routed their communications through the shut-
tle—when the zerg destroyed it they’d lost the ability
to do more than line-of-sight communication. And
this was way too strong a signal for that. Cautiously, he
opened the link. “Raynor,” he said.
“Captain?” The voice was young, male, and utterly
familiar. He’d hoped to hear it for weeks now, but
Raynor still felt tears in his eyes as he responded.
“Matt? Matt! Damn, am I glad to hear you, son!” He
scanned the skies overhead, and sure enough now that
he looked he saw a familiar outline off in the distance.
The Hyperion!
“Thank you, sir,” Matt Horner replied. “Same here.
Sorry it took us so long”—he sounded embarrassed,
and Raynor could practically see the young lieutenant
sitting in the captain’s chair, his face wearing that
abashed look that always made Raynor think of a
puppy that had just peed on the rug—“but the emer-
gency jump took us a ways out and crashed some of
our systems. We had to make several repairs before we
could get back.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Raynor said. “I’m just glad

348 A A R O N R O S E N B E R G


you made it back. Any chance you can send someone
down to get us?”
“Already done, sir,” Horner answered. “Belloc is on
his way down in a shuttle, locked in on your signal.”
Raynor vaguely remembered Belloc as a short, round
man who laughed a lot, often at the worst possible
moment. But right now he was ready to kiss him upon
sight.
“Great, we’ll be here,” he said, and closed the link.
“I am glad your ship has returned.” He turned to
find Tassadar watching him, the protoss’s blue eyes
sympathetic. “Now you too can depart this world.”
“Yeah.” Raynor thought about that. He’d come here
to save Kerrigan, and he’d failed. A lot of people had
died as a result. But he’d met Tassadar, and Zeratul,
and forged a friendship with them, a friendship
between two different races. Perhaps that was worth
all the lives. He thought maybe it was.
“What will you do now?” Tassadar asked again,
ignoring the obviously impatient Aldaris and even the
puzzled Artanis beside him.
Raynor thought about it. He had his ship back, if
understaffed. Cavez and Abernathy had both survived
somehow, as had McMurty, but he’d lost Non, Ling,
Deslan, and several others. The crew totaled forty now,
himself included. Not enough to take the war to
Mengsk, really. But perhaps enough to tip the scales
on Aiur. Besides, he wanted to be there when that
slimy Overmind got what he deserved. And Kerrigan
was probably heading toward the protoss homeworld

Q U E E N O FB L A D E S 349

as well. Besides, he, Zeratul, and Tassadar made a good
team. It would be a shame to break that up.
“I think I’ll tag along, if you don’t mind,” he said
finally. Aldaris flinched, clearly offended, but Raynor
ignored him and concentrated on Tassadar. “I’d like to
see this to the end.”
Artanis turned toward Tassadar, clearly not sure
how to respond.
“James Raynor is a valued friend and ally,” the High
Templar assured his counterpart. “I for one hold him
most welcome, and I am honored that he would
accompany us.”
Taking his cue from Tassadar, Artanis turned then
and bowed to Raynor. “You are welcome among us,
James Raynor,” his thoughts proclaimed, quiet and
uncertain and slightly formal, but honest nonetheless.
“You and your people both.”
“Let us locate the Praetor and his Dark Templar,
then,” Tassadar said, and Raynor could feel the warmth
of his friend’s affection and thanks. “And then, indeed,
we shall end this together.”
Raynor grinned. “Well, all right, then. What are we
waiting for?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

AARON ROSENBERG is originally from New Jersey
and New York. He returned to New York City seven
years ago, after stints in New Orleans and Kansas.
He has taught college-level English and worked in cor-
porate graphics and book publishing. Aaron has writ-
ten novels for Pocket’s Star Trek: Starfleet Corps of
Engineers, White Wolf’s Exalted, and Games Workshop’s
Warhammer lines. He also writes educational books and
roleplaying games and has his own game company,
Clockworks (www.clockworksgames.com). Aaron lives
in New York with his wife, their two-year-old daugh-
ter, their infant son, and their cat, unless they’ve
moved out while he was chained to his desk again.