It took them only a few minutes to come up with a plan, and it was set in action.
"Doran," Azalel called, standing by the phone. "Come here, please."
The little boy trotted over, beaming up at her. "Yeah?"
She knelt, absently fixing his coat. "I need absolute silence when I'm on the phone, okay? You need to be silent."
He sighed and shrugged, probably having heard that a thousand times. Azalel set her eyes on his, forcing her will upon him. Silence.
"Okay. Why do I hav'ta wear my coat indoors?"
"Your parents will explain that to you. Now be quiet." Nervously, her palms sweating, she dialed the number on the card she had been given. It rang four times before someone picked up. "Hello?"
"Miss Azalel. Have you made your decision?"
She wasn't surprised he knew it was her. "You didn't give me much choice."
"No, I didn't. But you are quite a powerful telepath, and you will be a wonderful asset to the Project."
Powerful? Azalel was momentarily taken off guard. Father told her she was only telepathic because of her being around Protoss most of her life. She wasn't powerful! Maybe he was just trying to get her hopes up…?
"I'm so glad," she said, sarcastically. "Just what I always wanted."
Silence.
"Do I… it would be better if I met you somewhere. Chris and Dana are still in shock."
"Very well." She was about to suggest something when he continued, "There is a park half a mile to the southeast of the house. Meet me there in fifteen minutes."
Click.
Azalel returned the phone to the cradle, took a deep breath, and turned to the others. They were staring at her, pale and afraid. She knelt to be face-to-face with Doran, who was slowly realizing that all was not as it should be. "We're going away," she told him quietly. "You're going to visit someone, and I'm going away somewhere else."
"Will I ever see you again?" he asked.
She considered lying, but her mouth betrayed her. "No."
His eyes filled. "Why not?"
"Oh, Doran," she whispered. How was she to explain? She gathered him in a hug, holding him tight. Her little brother… "I'm going somewhere you'll never see. I have to go home."
"But you are home!"
"No, I'm not. I belong somewhere else. But, Doran, you can do something for me."
He looked at her, hopeful. "What?"
"Keep your mind free. Keep it open. Never, ever let someone tell you something you usually wouldn't believe. Do you understand?"
Doran nodded. "Okay."
"Okay, or you understand?"
"I understand."
"Good." Azalel rose with a final squeeze to the little boy, and looked at his parents.
"Azalel," Dana said softly. Azalel stared at her—it was the first time she had been addressed by name, and especially the name her father had given her. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. For everything."
"For being bad parents," Chris added. "For ignoring you. We loved you, we really did… and we still do. We're sorry for not expressing our love."
Azalel turned to face them completely. "You have been honorable parents to Doran," she said. "That's all that's important to me." She bowed from the waist, the way her father taught her. "En Taro Tassadar."
Then, ignoring their confused expressions and not letting them see how their apologies had affected her, she turned and walked outside.
Southeast, the Ghost had said. Half a mile. It was half a mile closer to the Halloway's house with the dock.
Halfway home.
On the way of the ten-minute walk, she built a wall around her mind as powerful as it had been a few months ago when she hid from everyone in the tree. She distanced herself from everything—from where she was going to what her family was doing to what might happen—only focusing on the here and now. It was getting steadily easier to do such things, and again she wondered—distantly—what the Ghost had meant when he was speaking about how "powerful" she was. What did he mean? Was he just really weak?
Her hand crept up to touch the lump the Khaydarin crystal made under her coat. Was it because of that? Azalel remembered the cool focus that had poured into her body when she had first physical contact with it. Since Xarral had never let her touch it, she had never felt anything like it before.
It might be it. As a matter of fact, it must be it.
Azalel stopped. She was in the middle of the park, between the swing set and the jungle gym. Directly in front of her, beyond the see-saw, was the forest leading towards the dock. Her senses were increased tenfold; she knew immediately when the Ghost approached her and she turned to face him.
"I'm glad you made the right decision," he said, gazing at her with those ice-cold blue chips.
She said nothing, her mind drifting like the current beyond her enhanced physical senses. He frowned, searching for her, but her mind slipped from his grasp like water. She didn't fight; didn't focus on his words at all. If he were Protoss he would have been able to reach her as they themselves were built around their telepathy.
"Follow me," he said, perturbed, then turned and began to walk away. She obeyed silently, and for the first time she noticed a nondescript little dark blue car at the side of the road. She didn't want to get in that car, so she slammed a kick into the back of the Ghost's knees, then turned and ran.
The Ghost was up faster than she would have been; then again, he was trained to accept and ignore intense pain. Even with a sprained knee he was able to run.
Azalel was pumping her legs as fast as possible as she entered the forest. Leaves crackled and snow crunched underfoot as she followed parallel to the road, heading directly southeast. She felt as if she were floating; her feet were a blur as she leaped over fallen logs and ducked under snow-laden branches, weaving amongst the trees, used to running after her friends at home through the woods.
But where was the Ghost? Suddenly Azalel was afraid. She sensed others—not Ghosts, but soldiers, perhaps?
She was three-quarters of the way home. Just one quarter of a mile left…
There was a sharp report as something fired to her right—a silenced gun. She actually felt the breeze as it missed her by mere centimeters.
Bullets? Were they shooting at her?
Another gun went off, this time from behind her. It went between her knees, hitting a fallen trunk and sticking there. Azalel barely saw it as she whipped past.
A dart. They were darts; they wanted to tranquilize her.
Sudden real fear trickled through her brain. They might actually catch her! Her fear slammed her into reality, and abruptly she was in her own mind, her senses back to normal. Panic surfaced and fed into her body, and she ran faster. There were others around her, and all they had to do was tackle her and she was theirs. Or she might hit a patch of ice and slip and they'd have her.
She couldn't let it happen. She wouldn't.
Freezing air burned in her lungs and her nose ran violently. Small needles whizzed past her, missing her each time by centimeters. She ran in zigzags, ducking and weaving, knowing that it would take her longer to get to the dock when she did so.
A dart flashed by her right eye, startling her into hesitating before making her next step. She felt gloved fingers graze her wrist and panicked, leaping forward—and suddenly she was in a clearing, with the house in front of her. It flashed past—she saw a car there, but thank the gods it wasn't the Halloway's car; they were out; at least their deaths wouldn't be on her hands as well—and she was pounding down the well-known path, her mind only fixed on one thing: the warp gate. And then there was the dock—
And the Ghost leapt lightly from the forest to stand directly in her path.
They had known exactly where she'd go. That car she'd seen—it was the Ghost's.
She hesitated in mid-step, stumbling, defeat clouding her brain. He smiled in triumph. Behind her, she knew the soldiers were gathering, waiting for the signal to shoot should she prove to be too strong to be taken down by him.
Merely five feet from the dock.
Azalel shuddered to a halt, swaying, exhausted.
"Now, Miss Azalel," the Ghost said, stepping forward. "Come along with us. I'm afraid that this little exercise has cost you your family's life."
"You won't… find them," she gasped. "They're… gone."
His brow furrowed; only a little, and it was there for only a split second, but it was there. He hadn't been expecting that. She smiled at him, the same frozen smile he had given her, and leaped.
Hitting his chest, she drew her legs up and smacked his chin with her booted feet. He toppled back and they rolled down the slight slope towards the dock. The Ghost had the immediate advantage; he reached up and snagged her throat in one hand and squeezed. She began to choke the same moment they reached the dock and rolled onto it.
She is being followed, a Protoss technician said as the two combating figures rolled into range of detection, his fingers moving about the controls.
By who? Xarral demanded, stepping forward. Time went the same here as it did on the other side of the gate, as their planet had almost exactly the same length of days. By now the crowd was gone, but when Xarral showed signs of distress they began to gather again, Tolar and his friends being the first to come.
Unknown Terrans. One has grabbed her and they are wrestling. Activating warp gate.
The same hum filled the air as the huge structure sprang to life.
Bright light filled the little clearing. Momentarily blinded, the Ghost loosened his crushing hold on Azalel's throat. She took the window of opportunity and tore away, lunging for the glowing doorway.
But just then, something went wrong. On the other side, the technicians desperately strove to correct the imbalance in vain. Where Azalel stood nothing happened save a barely distinguishable shift in the tune of the humming noise, so microscopically insignificant that no ear, Terran or Protoss, could have perceived it. So Azalel, unknowing, leaped into the glowing light and ended up slammed into the ground, the wind knocked out of her as small darts flew through the gate behind her. One pricked her calf and immediately she doubled over to brush it away.
It was too late. Drowsiness overcame her senses and her head dropped to the ground. In a last effort she pushed herself over to lie on her back—
—and saw nothing but dark velvet sky full of stars she didn't know. As her eyes closed, she realized she was not lying on metal or cobblestone; she was on cold rock and dirt.
This wasn't home. This wasn't home at all…