Which would leave Jake stranded on Aiur.

"No!" she shrieked. Rosemary lunged for the nearest protoss, seizing his arm. His head whipped around and he stared at her, and she got a hint of just how alien she must appear to these beings. Unlike the refugees who had just raced through the warp gate, these protoss were fit, healthy, and armed to the teeth— well, they would have been if they'd had any teeth. The templar she'd dared lay hands on freed himself easily and backhanded her, training his weapon on her as she fell hard on soft sand. The wind knocked out of her, she gasped inelegantly like a fish, staring up at a purple sky that was not quite day and not quite night, still instinctively and foolishly trying to form words when intellectually she knew that thoughts would do as well or better.

Bless them, the other protoss rallied. The one who'd caught her before—Vartanil, she thought his name was—now gently helped her to her feet, while the others shot streams of information to the guards of the warp gate.

"You must open the gates, if only briefly!" Vartanil was saying. "There is a terran male named Jacob Jefferson Ramsey still on Aiur. He houses within him one of the last preservers."

The guard who'd struck Rosemary gazed coldly at Vartanil. "The hardships you have endured over the last four years must have damaged your mind, Vartanil."

Rosemary wondered as breath finally came back to her how the guard had known Vartanil's name. Oh yeah—that instant thought stuff. And even as that realization hit, she found that she knew the guards' names as well. This bully, his skin dark gray and his face angular and dotted here and there with sharp, small hornlike protrusions, was Razturul. The other was Turavis.

"He's right," Rosemary said, "and it's a hell of a long story. Zamara will tell you, but first you need to open this damned gate!"

She was astonished at how upset she was at the thought of Jake being stranded in Aiur. Or being taken by Valerian or Ethan or reduced to a little cloud of atoms by Ulrezaj. He didn't deserve to wind up that way, not after all he'd been through. And whatever little mysteries Zamara had locked in her dead-but-yet-still-living consciousness were obviously very important to the protoss.

Razturul's eyes, glowing in the dim light of a twilight evening, narrowed as he regarded her. "It is true that you all tell the same story," he acknowledged, obviously reluctantly.

"Yes, Razturul, but none of them can enter the Khala, so we cannot verify their claims in a place where there can be no deception," said Turavis. His face was smoother than the bully's, and his nerve cords, neatly pulled back and tied, hung down to his waist.

Razturul pointed at Vartanil. "This one claims that the protoss you have brought with you, terran, have been subjected to a drug called Sundrop." His eyes widened slightly as, unbidden, Rosemary recollected the abject shame and self-loathing she'd endured while in the throes of that wretched drug. "Ah,”you, too, claim to have been addicted."

"No claim about it," Rosemary muttered. She fought back her anger and fear. "Please," she said, a word she did not often use. "My friend and the preserver he houses are in terrible danger. Just open the gate for a second."

"It is too late," Turavis said, compassion lacing his words. "But if it is any consolation, your friend has been redirected to another gate."

Rosemary looked at him, uncomprehending.

"The warp gates are xel'naga technology, and they can be found on many worlds," Turavis continued. "Any warp gate can open onto any other active gate. When we saw that there was a risk of invasion—by zerg, or the Dominion, or this dark archon—we redirected anyone who was already within the boundaries of the gate to another one. Jacob will have walked through the gate thinking to arrive on Shakuras, as you have, but instead will find himself in another place entirely."

Rosemary gaped at him. "Oh, great. Can you tell which one?"

Razturul shook his head. "No. While it is not entirely random, there are still many possibilities. The redirection is designed so that if it is an enemy, they will not be sent anywhere that they could do harm to our people, but if it is one of our own, they will be able to survive."

"Well, yeah, but in case you haven't noticed, bud, I'm not a protoss. What about toxic atmospheres? What about predators? What about food? We humans can't live on sunlight like you guys can."

"You said he is with a preserver," Razturul said, casting a slightly disapproving glance at Vartanil. "If this is true, then she will be able to program the gate to take them somewhere else, if where they are is inhospitable. Do not worry about him, Rosemary Dahl. I would think you should be more worried about yourself."

"What—hey look, Pointy-face," Rosemary snarled, drawing herself up to her full diminutive height."Right about now my buddy is figuring out that he's somewhere that's not Shakuras, where he needs to be to get the preserver out of his head and save his damn life, and that he is someplace else all by himself with no clue about how to reach anybody who can help him. I think it highly appropriate that I worry about him, and oh, by the way, are you threatening me?"

Rosemary found herself surrounded by templar, both kinds, all with those weird energy blades pointed at her.

"It was not a threat; it was a warning," Razturul said smoothly. "Come with us, Rosemary Dahl. We have no wish to hurt you, but you must be confined and interrogated."

Her eyes widened slightly at the last word. She knew what that was code for where the Dominion was concerned, and she'd rather die right now, speared on a glowing blade of mental energy made physical, than be subjected to the impersonal and deliberate brain dismemberment that—

—images of a room, spartan but not devoid of comforts, and answering questions filled her mind.

"Oh," she said, relaxing slightly. "That's a bit better."

She got a hint of something that might have been "barbaric."

"My friends," she said, gesturing to the protoss who had accompanied her. "What will happen to them?"

Turavis turned to regard the protoss who had escaped the carnage that was now the surface of Aiur. "They are brothers, to be welcomed home," he said. "We will help them recover from the grip of this... Sundrop.. .and question them as well. Once they have shared their information, we would joyfully have them rejoin protoss society."

She couldn't help it. The thought, and what's going to happen to me? was formed and was read.

"That remains to be seen," said Turavis. "It will depend on what the executor decides."

As Rosemary and the little group of refugees trudged through soft blue sand to a gleaming vessel that awaited them, Rosemary thought darkly that "executor" sounded a bit too much like "executioner" for her liking.