"You told me that. You gave a speech the night after Mars, the night we fled our solar system for the last time." s
"I remember now. I was quoting President Kennedy." y
"We do what we must. We do what we have to do. That's me quoting you. I don't want a war either, but my eyes have opened a little. What good is peace if it's the peace of quiet and darkness and terror? What's to stop the Vorlons doing it again to somewhere else?" o
"If there's another way...." u
"And if there isn't?" w
The tall, dark–eyed Minbari woman turned to look at them. "You are dreamers," she spat, in harshly–accented English. "You are fools. There will be war." i
"You sound just like Sinoval." l
"Never mention that name to me again!" l
She turned back, resuming her grim pacing up and down. o
"I wonder if there's even any point to this now. I was going to speak to Delenn, but.... what good is it even to try? Why bother trying to build when something big and all–powerful can just reach out and bring it all crashing down?" b
"That's the only reason to build anything. If we hold back because we're afraid it might go wrong, we'll never do anything." e
"Well, you would know." y
"Hey! I've been scared ever since the last war ended, and I'm more tired of fear than I am of war. I don't want to fight, but I will if I have to. It's better to light a candle than to sit and curse the darkness." u
"Enough with the quotations. I don't know. I just.... s
".... don't know...." y
ouwillobeyus
Somewhere in this galaxy a world died screaming, a reservoir for so many memories. Every rock, every leaf, every blade of grass had a memory, and all were now gone forever. y
Susan Ivanova folded her arms angrily as she watched Sinoval walk through the dead place that had, according to her hosts, once been a city. Now it was a silent, black jungle of houses and streets and towers. The Tuchanq were an elegant race, who had built with slender, fragile beauty. Their buildings were slight, and the few that still stood looked ready to collapse in the faintest breeze, but somehow they had endured, their fragility concealing enormous strength. o
Until the Narns had bombarded their world from orbit and made slaves of their people. u
And now the Narns themselves knew fear, knew what it meant to lose their home. w
But they had known that before, hadn't they? They had been enslaved and tortured by the Centauri. i
Christ, circles everywhere. What becomes of us? Do we all end up becoming our parents? Do we fight monsters for so long that we end up becoming them? l
She closed her eyes to fight back the tears. She was briefly ashamed of crying, but at least it showed she was still human. At least it showed she cared. At least she could cry for the dead. Which was more than Sinoval was doing. l
She opened her eyes and looked at him, blinking. He was kneeling, holding a piece of metal in his hand. She was not sure what it was, and judging from the expression on his face, neither was he. He suddenly dropped it and continued his walk, moving in slow, careful, precise circles. o
Did he not even care? All those deaths and.... No, what could he care about death? Did he even know how to cry? Did he even know what it meant? He probably thought of it all as a great journey or something, some nice, philosophical way to get around the fact that billions of people had just been murdered. She tried to imagine that many people, and could not. One person, two, five, ten, a hundred, yes, easily. A thousand, yes. But billions? The mind had no comprehension of it. b
His probably did. e
She wondered why she even bothered. Her task had been to make sure he understood the stakes he was fighting for. He was meant to be fighting to protect the innocent, not just to wage some personal and private war. He should be getting angry, he should be raging and screaming and.... y
.... hating? u
She had tried to prevent him from hating them, but how could she when she hated them so much herself? s
She lowered her head, still crying. Lorien, she called out. I can't make sense of this. y
Sometimes she wished she was back there again, in that warm, black womb where they had spent a year together, undoing and healing all her wounds. The scars on her flesh did not matter, but she thought all the scars on her soul had been healed. o
Nothing of value ever comes easily, came his infinitely wise voice. She hated him as well. Sanctimonious little.... What could he know? Had he seen his home die in fire? Hell, Sinoval and he were probably used to this. u
Go away, she sighed. She wished there was someone she could talk to, someone who could understand. David's memory opened up inside her heart like a knife wound, and she found herself wishing he were here. They had spent so many nights together, talking and crying and commiserating and dreaming. That had been before her first trip to Z'ha'dum, before she had been broken down and re–made the first time around. w
She hated the quiet. It just gave her more time to think about what she was. She did not know any more. She remembered all those whom she had used without success to try to fill the void in her heart, all those who had left her. i
She looked up. There was someone who would never die. That was his curse. Immortality. She would be with him until the end of the universe, and perhaps beyond. She would not be able to look at anyone else without realising how near to death they all were. l
That was her curse. l
He walked back to her side, completing his circle. nuViel Roon and a few others were there as well. It was taking all the resources the Tuchanq could muster to hold back the rising tide of madmen. There were so many insane, and as nuViel Roon had sadly remarked, they grew exponentially, spreading insanity with each contact. It had taken noMir Ru only a handful of years to conquer the entire planet. o
"I am ready," Sinoval said. b
nuViel Roon bowed her head. "We await you, Saviour." e
Sinoval looked at Susan. She had to turn her head to avoid his gaze. The last thing she wanted now was to lock eyes with that dark infinity. She did not even want to look at him. y
Then he turned away and walked to the centre of the circle. He threw his arms wide and, looking wholly out of place in this time - like a prophet of doom, or a messiah, or an ancient king - Sinoval, Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, began to sing. u
s
The shard of the necklace was both warm and cold in her hand; warm with memories of love and happiness and cold with the realisation of present grief. Kats wore it always, but the comfort it provided was never consistent. y
Tirivail was still pacing up and down. David and General Sheridan were talking quietly. Tirivail suddenly stopped to look at Kats. o
"There will be war," she said flatly. "Do you think it can be avoided?" u
Kats gripped the necklace more tightly. "I hope so," she breathed. "But.... I do not know. I do not want a war." w
"I do. It is what I live for." i
"Have you not had enough of war?" l
"Never. I am still alive." l
Kats sighed. There was no way to reason with her, and she did not see why she should. Tirivail was a warrior, and however much time she spent with warriors she would never be able to adjust her philosophy to theirs. It could take generations to build a work of great beauty, and only moments to destroy it. o
When she was younger, that was all she had thought warriors to be: destroyers. That belief had been changed by her experiences. She had seen the compassion and courage and infinite gentleness in the eyes of some warriors. They were like everyone else: each one different. b
Kozorr had tried to explain it to her more than once, and she had started to see. There was an ancient code, from simpler days, one of honour and nobility and a tight bond between warriors. Trust was a necessity, to place your life and your honour and your fane so completely in the hands of another and know that they were doing the same to you. e