A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain

....

Ah. Silence. Have you ever thought about that?

Yes. I have.... wondered.... Sometimes. I do love him. I do.

But were you willing to give your life for his out of this love, or because of your sense of guilt?

I love him.... but.... these times need him more than me. Kazomi Seven needs a warrior now, not a healer. I am not a warrior. John is.

And when the war is over, if it ever can be over.... When you win, what then? Who will be left to heal the wounds of the war?

But without the warriors, we will never win. I have thought of all this.

Perhaps. What of Neroon?

He is dead, isn't he?

Yes.

Could you save him?

I cannot create life. Only the universe can do that, but yes.... I suppose I could save him, extend his life for a brief period, repair damage and heal wounds, but he would not thank either of us if I did. His doom was set, you know.

You said nothing was written in stone.

Nothing is. Nothing is inevitable, but I have seen his soul, his pattern. He would die sooner or later. All beings do. This is the way he would have wished to die, a true warrior's death, defending his true love.

He still loved me, then?

He did.

And he died because of me. Another one.

Another death at your door? I suppose so. All beings die eventually.

Except you.

Ah. True, but then, just as all beings die, so are all beings immortal. Neroon's soul has returned to the universe, gone back to the weave to be threaded and given form once more. Mortal beings gain immortality through their children, or through their rebirth. I am immortal simply because I am not yet dead. My people.... are not reborn, as yours are.

Why not?

A sacrifice we made long ago. A necessary one. I am the last of my people, the last one left. I chose to remain here, to observe and to wait.

To wait? For me?

For someone. For a meeting. This meeting. Soon I will be able to rest. But there are some things that must be done first.

What things?

Ah.... that very much depends on you.

* * *

'Ow!'

'Oh, don't be such a baby.'

'Are you deliberately trying to cause me the maximum amount of pain possible?'

'Trust me, you'd know if I was.'

Dexter Smith was used to pain, or so he thought. In his childhood he had been shot at, stabbed, punched, pushed off things and pushed on to things. In his adult life he had been pushed to the limits of endurance in his training in Earthforce and in his time as a soldier and captain. And more recently he had been stabbed and punched in a particularly unpleasant fight with a group of thugs.

But none of that compared to the tender loving care of his companion.

'How come you never got hurt anyway?' he asked.

'Maybe they didn't want to hurt a lady?' Talia said with a smile. 'Or maybe they underestimated me. People tend to do that around me, I can't think why.'

'I never will. Ow!'

'Oh, stop it. I think that was a compliment, was it?'

'Not as such. I learned not to underestimate you a long time ago. If you remember, it was right after you hid on my ship for six months right under my nose and then blew up a huge chunk of it.'

'Oh, yes. That.'

'Yes. That.'

There was an awkward pause, as she resumed bandaging his cut arm. He wasn't sure just how deep the wound was, but the whole area was numb and he had problems flexing the muscles there. There had been a fair amount of blood as well. And, given that the two of them could not go anywhere near a hospital, this limited amount of care was the best he could hope for.

'It.... it wasn't anything personal, you know,' she said finally. 'It wasn't anything against you, or your ship. I just had to slow things down. I had to give Al enough time to get things going elsewhere. I didn't....' She paused. 'I mean, I thought you were a good captain.'

'Actually,' he said softly. 'I meant to thank you. I was angry as hell at the time, but now.... Having looked back on that.... Thank you. You kept me away from Minbar. I.... wouldn't have liked to have.... been there. Not according to what I heard, anyway.'

She sat back on her heels, looking at him closely. 'They were our enemies,' she said. 'Well, your enemies, anyway.'

'I hadn't met any before. Well, I've only met one now, but.... Does it make it right, us doing to them what they did to us? Doesn't it just make us as bad as they were?'

She shrugged. 'There are some things you have to do.'

'Yes, I get that. I mean, safeguard our worlds and our families, fine. Destroy their military capabilities, no problem. Even capture their rulers and put them on trial.... that's all okay. But ruining their homeworld.... poisoning the atmosphere, the oceans, the ground? The whole thing just seems.... an act of spite. Childish spite. You know.... you broke my toy, so I'll break yours.'

'Earth was a little more than a toy.'

'I guess. I've never actually been there. I was born here on Proxima.'

'I.... I don't think I've been to Earth. Maybe when I was a little girl. My earliest memories are of the Psi Corps training base on Mars. That was one of the main bases, not the subsidiary ones. That was my home almost all my life. All my friends were there.'

'I'm.... sorry.'

'Don't be. Al got out everyone he could. Unlike the.... mundanes, we had somewhere to go. He took us all to Sanctuary. I wasn't much more than a teenager at the time. I remember all the chaos, all the people running around desperately trying to pack things and get everything sorted out. It's funny, but I left my diary behind, and I was so filled with panic that someone would find it and read it.' Smith looked at her, and she chuckled. 'What?'

'I'm trying to imagine what could have been in your diary when you were a teenager.'

'None of your business!' she laughed. 'Didn't you keep a diary?'

'Not around here, I didn't. I don't know, I always thought a diary was a place to.... you know, write down all the things you dreamed of doing, and then looking back when you're a grown-up and realising just how little you managed. I knew I wouldn't manage anything, so what was the point of writing down things that would never come true?'

'Pessimistic,' she noted.

'Life in the Pit was like that.'

'Even when you found out you were.... one of us.'

'A telepath, you mean?' She nodded, and he sighed. 'Talia, I get hunches from time to time, and.... vague ideas of what someone's feeling. I can't read minds, I can't do scans, and I can't talk mind to mind. I'm not a telepath.'

'You have our genes. You are one of us, whatever you think.'