A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 4 : Hopes, Aspirations and Dreams

* * *

To the Narn.

We are your Masters. We are your saviours and your protectors. We are your lawgivers and your enforcers and your judges.

We are you executioners.

You have broken our law. You have had dealings with the Shadow. Their creatures roam your world, sheltered by your leaders, their skills utilised for your petty concerns of power. You have broken our law and you have betrayed those who stand beside you.

You have been judged, and you will be punished.

You have one rotation of your world. Those who are untainted by the Shadow will be permitted to leave, so long as they carry no weapons, and harbour no thoughts against us. Your leaders will not be permitted to leave, nor will those who have sheltered or were aware of the vassals of the Shadow.

One rotation of your world only.

When that is done, your world will die, in fire and ash and rock. You will be consigned to wander the galaxy, a rootless and uprooted people, so that all who look upon you will know the penalty for defying our law.

We are your masters. You will obey us.

If any try to leave who are tainted, or complicit, or seek to oppose us, all will die. We will seek out your entire race and erase you from history. If only the innocent leave, then you will be permitted to endure.

Behold our mercy.

Do not try to fight us, or all will die. Do not try to oppose us, or all will die. Accept our judgement and our justice and our mercy.

We are your masters.

You will obey us.

You have one rotation of your world.

* * *

Once he had been one of the most respected nobles in the Centauri Republic, the Lord-General of their armies and their fleets. His name was feared by his enemies and respected by those who followed him. He was fair, but icily efficient and determined. He was a man who well understood the value of inspiring fear in the hearts of those who opposed him, and he possessed a necessary ruthlessness.

Now he was a broken man, harsh with the pain of his own tears, seeing ghosts in every movement. His crew had fought this battle without him. He had been trying to restore a young girl who had taken her own life. A girl he had struck in a single moment of madness and anger.

His head in his hands, Jorah Marrago did not see Sinoval, Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, enter the room.

"My friend," he said softly.

Marrago looked up. Through eyes scarred by pain and horror, he saw the tall, dark form of his ally. Sinoval's deep eyes seemed to radiate compassion, an odd emotion for him to display. Marrago was not even sure if he was real.

"You cannot bring her back, can you?" he whispered.

"No," Sinoval said sadly. "Her soul has passed beyond. A.... residue remains here, in the place where she died. You could talk to her if you wished, but all that remains is her fear and her anger, and I do not think you would want to listen to what she had to say."

"I was not talking about Senna," he rasped, harshly. "Did we win? Tell me we won."

"That depends who 'we' are. Centauri Prime is as safe as it was yesterday, which is to say, not very safe at all. Those of the Brotherhood who survived fled here with me. A safe haven I spent some time finding. I will have to talk with the leaders, find those who wish to fight alongside me, find those who do not deserve to continue. I would appreciate your advice in this, my friend, but I will understand if you are.... incapable of that at present."

"What about the plan?"