Editing Story:Another Continuation of LCB (section)

===Epilogue, Part 2===

“''The deepest love is the child of compassion and forgiveness.''”<br/>
- Eldar proverb

Taldeer rushed to find something to wear. “''Too formal. Too colorful. Too casual… Perfect.''” She slipped on the cream colored dress, loose turtleneck gripping her head and settling snuggly around her neck. After running her arms through the long and baggy sleeves, she pulled her hair out of the neck and pushed the dress down to her knees. It was tailored to her, but it wasn’t exactly clinging to her body, either. It fit just right. Casual, civilian clothing.

She put on her shoes, pocketed her ID, and made it out the door. The vactrain would be at the station soon. There was no time to waste.

Being put on leave had its perks. On one hand, she was free to wear what she wanted. She had free time. She still lent her seer powers to the council, but now it was by request: and requests did not come often. On the other hand: there was the reason she was put on leave. A very regrettable one. A sensation she could feel in the stares of those who recognized her - and there were many. Farseer Taldeer Ulthran. Once known in military and seer circles for demonstrating remarkable competence given her level of experience, now a household name for all the wrong reasons. Feeling the weight of their gaze, she retreated into her memories, thinking back to a conversation she had with her father in his garden, not more than a week after her return.

“At first I welcomed leave,” she said, surveying his garden from the small terrace, “but this ‘respite’ is nothing of the sort. I can only think of what I’ve done and how to right it.” The volume of greenery wasn’t large, but it was beautiful, and immaculately cared for.

“And what would you prefer, my dear?” He was on his knees nearby, pruning a flowering shrub.

She paced nervously back and forth across the wooden deck. “To take action! To make sure the sacrifice of my kin wasn’t for naught!”

“What action could accomplish that goal?” After careful consideration, a flower bearing branch fell to the ground with a deft snip.

Her pacing ceased. “I don’t know, but maybe I could find out.”

The man’s eyes didn’t leave his work, but his focus remained wholly on her. “The reality is that the council has only voted to take away a few of your privileges. There remains plenty you can do. Consider helping the people around you. For every moment you spend brooding or scheming in search of redemption, a moment passes where you could have done something for someone else. Even the smallest good act can be put toward the debt you owe your comrades. But no amount of thought can help.”

Her wistful gaze was tempered with a fierce annoyance. “Do you really believe that? That there’s plenty I can do right now? How can I even start to rectify my errors?”

He was the picture of serenity. “Firstly, I don’t just believe it, dear, I know it for a fact. And secondly, the fact is, the most important part of you has made it through all this: your will. I suspect that your mon-keigh friend had a hand in that. Treat him well, for he’s done you a great service.”

Fingers drummed on elbows as she guarded herself. “I know that I owe him a great debt, and it will not be repaid for a long time. But “will?” I can think of many things more important than “will.” Ability, for one.”

“Nonsense.” He actually shook his head. “Will is the most important quality a person can possess. I’ve watched plenty of talented seers waste away for lack of motivation, while their less talented but more willing peers superseded them. When the going got tough and they started doing poorly, they lost interest. In adversity, they longed for the comfort of old and familiar paths. They wanted to be the best, but weren’t willing to work for it. You don’t have that problem.”

Her arms parted, exasperated, she implored him. “But dad, how does that help me fix the problem in front of me?”

“It doesn’t.” There was a newfound firmness in his voice. Sincere, comforting, well intentioned, but certainly forceful. “You can’t see the problem in front of you. The problem is that you have your head in the clouds. You need to stop dreaming of what you could do. Focus on what you can do. So that you can discern what you should do, and so others will see you can do it.”

“Explain.”

“You are not the bleak portrait of somebody broken by failure, resigned to a lifetime in some harmless career where you can’t hurt, or particularly help, anyone. You could remain on Ulthwe and commune with the Crystal Seers, serving as an intermediary for the less experienced, biding your time until you too can never leave the dome. Yet that isn't what you want. You want to make things right. That’s a wonderful thing. But you don’t know how yet. You’re still learning to discern what is right. And that’s okay. The only way to improve is with practice. So practice doing what is right, no matter how small. I’m sure what you need to do will come to you: you’ll know it. How about it?”

“Well… where should I start?”

“There’s an old man nearby who could use some help with his garden, if you’d oblige him.” He smiled.

Taldeer smiled to herself. Without even realizing it, she had arrived at the station. She flashed her ID to the guard and was admitted to the administrative levels. Administrative vactrains were for military, government, and medical personnel, so it could be argued she was abusing the system. But nobody was arguing that yet. Less crowded and with fewer stops, she’d soon be near Ulthwe’s aft.

There, she could meet with one of the few people left on this craftworld that still voiced faith in her.

----

Liivi sat comfortably on the soft, luxurious couch. As his feet rested on the large coffee table, the Cygnus arm of the milky way spread out before him. Truly, it was an enormous window, with a breathtaking view. The whole sight made the lovingly furnished room, with its comfortable rug, couch, and armchairs, seem so small by comparison. Despite this smallness, it didn’t feel enclosed. It felt like laying in an open field, held in the embrace of warm blanket, cushioned by soft grass. Yet this deceptive peace was belied by a subtle reminder of where he truly lay.

A blast door, its outline barely visible in the portal of the window, was to provide additional protection in the event of attack. It had been used once in the three weeks since they had arrived. To defend against the forces which erupted from that damnable place, on the other side of Ulthwe. Out of sight, thankfully, yet forever trapped in its orbit. The Eye of Terror.

This room was for meetings between trusted prisoners and their Eldar contacts, to provide some level of comfort and safety for them both. Yet it was no secret that true safety lay only in the interior of Ulthwe. Though it was a legitimately relaxing place when not under attack, to say there were no additional motives for selecting a location so near the exterior would be naive at best. Liivi did not dwell on these thoughts. He had learned to wait. It was all part of the routine. He had emerged from the door to the left. She would soon emerge from the door on the right. They would have their time to talk. To pass the time, he reflected on a conversation that took place earlier today, in this very same room.

“Have you grown restless, cooped up in here yet?” Taesan, arms resting over the back of the couch and foot resting on his knee, almost took up half the sitting space.

“Not particularly.” Liivi sat on the far end, resting on the arm, his own arms folded as he stared out into space. “I am reminded of long periods I spent, traveling in ships. Sometimes they would put me in cryosleep, but not always.”

“Well, lucky you, I’m pretty sick of it already. It’s too cramped.” He shook his head.

Liivi looked over at the ranger. “What is it that makes it intolerable for you?”

Taesan rocked his head from side to side as he mulled over the question. “It isn’t that it’s intolerable. It’s just… really  tedious. And to be completely honest,” he sighed, in thoughtful reflection, “I don’t know why I struggle with it. It’s like I said before. Maybe I could have stayed here. But some rebellious, immature part of me won the rest of me over.”

Eyebrows raised. “You have competing motivations?”

The ranger looked at the vindicare with a hint of incredulity, but swiftly remembered who he was talking to. “Of course I do. You do to.”

Liivi thought on this in silence.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that they released me after today’s interview. Not entirely, but mostly. I’m ordered to stay nearby, easily reachable through the webway. I’ll venture out now and then, but I’m planning on serving as a character witness for you: my trips won’t be long. Hopefully you’ll get range privileges soon - it’s a good way to kill the time.”

He nodded. “Ysukin and my other counselor said they would try to arrange that for me as soon as possible. So, maybe soon.”

“That’s good. I hope your meeting hours get extended too. You and Taldeer should spend more time together. You have something special.” Taesan was smiling.

“Something special?” He turned his attention to Taesan. It wasn’t a dumb expression, but he obviously didn’t get it.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. It’s one of those things that’s hard to put into words, you know?”

“Like what we were talking about earlier?”

“Exactly,” he nodded. “But nicer. Unusual on a craftworld, maybe. But I’ve seen it on some cohabited planets before. Most people here would frown on it, but I’d be a hypocrite to criticize anybody for following their heart.”

“Can you be more specific? What exactly are we talking about?”

“Love, Liivi.”

“Love… How do you describe love?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy. I’m a big sap. I’d say that you don’t. But, since you’re asking me: it’s just a cheap overused term, created as a substitute for something that can’t really be put into words. It’s a feeling that’s frightening at first, but exciting. And once you fall into the rhythm of it, no deeper satisfaction exists. I’d recommend it, personally.”

“Interesting...”

----

The door opened smoothly, and through it she stepped. The two locked eyes. It had been three weeks now, and even though he had grown used to seeing her outside of her armor, it was sill strange to see her wearing different clothing at every meeting. In every arrangement, she still managed to look hypnotizing. He only had variations of a single outfit - the clothes they made for their human prisoners - a long sleeved shirt that hugged his body, and loose trousers. But as much as he felt uncomfortable without his suit, she didn’t seem to mind. She always smiled when she saw him.

“Hello, Liivi.”

He nodded. “Hello, Taldeer.”

The Farseer strolled over to the couch and took a seat next to him. Close to him, in fact. Resting the side of her lithe frame against his, and laying her head against his firm shoulder, the two of them stared out at the stars. Certain individuals might have found such physical interaction to be scandalous or indecent - but they were not here to observe. She allowed herself to savor the moment, before at last letting out a satisfied sigh tinged with melancholy.

“The investigatory commission was rough today,” she said. “Every day, I’m grateful that they decided not to do a public investigation.”

Liivi’s tone warmed to her. Comforting. “You give their opinion of you much weight. Do you think it shameful to be saved by a human?”

“It’s humiliating.” She drew her arms inward and looked at the floor. “I left that planet only by the fortune of encountering you. My pride as a warrior and a Farseer are both very bruised.” She paused. “But…” her posture relaxed again. “If I had to choose between this humiliation, or never encountering you at all…” She rested her arm against his once more. “I’d much rather have found you than not.”

This made Liivi nervous. But he reciprocated as he spoke. “I struggle to relate, concerning that deference. But I am glad to hear this. I was trained not to respect their orders or opinions, but to follow them. In most cases, I was told, their advice would be terrible.”

“It makes sense though,” she mused, “given the nature of the Imperium. In your craft, you are among the best of the best. Everyone else is less equipped than you. I, on the other hand… I have quite a ways to go.”

“I can shoot well. But,” he stared thoughtfully into space, before turning his gaze to her. “I am beginning to realize that there is more I would like to be proficient at.”

A soft smile greeted his words. But it was the subtle twinkle that her eyes took on which stunned Liivi. “The therapy and counseling are already yielding results, I see.”

He had to look away for some reason. Something compelled him. It was uncomfortable. But not… bad. “Partly,” he replied. “The data from the brain scan was finally interpreted. It seems like the concussion I received helped jumpstart this process. And some lingering questions from a mission shortly after may have led to me sparing you.”

There was a shift in her demeanor, scarcely perceptible even to Liivi’s keen eye. “Lingering questions?” She didn’t need to ask. She could imagine the sort of things he had been through. But she was curious, even if she knew not to press it further than that.

Introspection. He looked inward, away from the world. “Not on a level I understood. I had been questioning what was right without putting words to it. Have you ever done something and only felt revulsion with your actions afterwards?”

“Of course.” “''All too well.''”

“I did that,” he shook his head and closed his eyes, “and I couldn’t do it again.” He sighed through his nose. It was heavy.

“Well,” she wrapped her arm around his bicep, “I’m glad you didn’t.” Silence. “You can tell me about it, if you would like.”

“I would rather not... It is hard for me to convey and... I do not want you to think what you would.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” She placed her hand on top of his and squeezed it, just a little. “I can only imagine what you have been ordered to do. Or have done. Just know that I won’t fault you, alright? You were brainwashed. Much of you still is.”

“Does that alleviate responsibility?” His eyes opened. He stared into hers.

“Some of it, yes,” she nodded. “Enough for me to forgive you much more easily. So don’t worry about me judging you. I won’t. Worry about how you’ll overcome. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” He looked back out into space.

“Of course.” Her gaze joined his, both examining the star studded void.

“...”

“...”

He shifted in his seat. “I saw Taesan, earlier today.”

She was quick to respond. “I heard he got released. Did he say goodbye?”

“No, he intends to stay for awhile longer, though he will make short trips now and then.” His expression had softened back to something blank, though it still carried the image of vague reminiscence.

“That’s kind of him.” Those weren’t just words. Her face read as genuinely happy. “Staying here, I mean. He’s probably quite lonely on this place, even if it is his home. Those on the Path of the Outcast are not exactly trusted by the public. Even by some in the military. It's especially true of career outcasts, like himself.”

“That was one of the first items I asked him about. How he was doing. He said that the isolation did not bother him much. Even if the average person was willing to talk to him, he finds it hard to relate to them now. They’ve not seen what he has, or been where he has been. Their world is Ulthwe, and it’s much smaller than his. I do not quite understand it, but he said it was difficult to put into words.”

It didn’t take long for her to mull it over. “I think I understand what he means, and I suppose that’s true. Most civilians go through many of your lifetimes without stepping off of this ship. In your short life, you’ve seen things that they, even with all their time, can hardly imagine.”

“Indeed. He did not seem depressed or upset. He seemed quite content, even if he would prefer to be elsewhere. He wanted to visit the range with me, but that does not seem possible given the current situation. It may be in the future. But not now.”

“That’s good. I think you may have found a friend in him, Liivi.”

“Perhaps… You haven’t mentioned Mellorena in awhile, despite your earlier concern. I hope she is well. Or better, at least.”

“Well…” Taldeer leaned back, and crossed her hands as she stared at the ceiling. “She’s still missing her legs. But the other injuries have been seen to. Growing a new limbs takes time, and even though our surgeons have nerve attachment down to a fine art, it goes without saying she’ll need physical therapy. But…” Taldeer frowned and sighed. There was a glint of sadness in her eyes. “There are other, more difficult wounds that need tending. A routine psychological examination confirmed some of my worst fears. She has been treading in very dangerous territory. Routinely exposing herself to that sort of blood and suffering without a war mask… having actively sought to become lost on her path… those are concerning behaviors in somebody so young, especially the latter. For many her age, those are the first steps towards the path of our Great Enemy. She’s coped remarkably well with it thus far, but they’re still worried. They want her for regular examinations. Should she start to show more concerning behaviour, they would assign her elsewhere. She’d hate that. She’s wanted to be the first to help people ever since she was little.”

“Is that so?”

“Did I tell you?” She looked over at him. “I guess not. She tells the story better, but… when she was still a child, she was caught in an attack on Ulthwe. Her shelter collapsed, and she was trapped under some rubble, critically wounded. A man risked his life, braving gunfire, to dig her and others out. The doctor who treated her, even though he was exhausted, never hesitated to smile when she needed it. That’s when she decided on her path.”

“I wonder what it’s like, having that sort of passion.” He looked wistfully at his hands, then out to the stars. “I was trained to take orders. To execute tasks with dedication. Sometimes I enjoyed it. But passion… well, it still seems hard for me to understand. How do I grasp it? What is it like?”

“Well, in her case, it makes her an idiot. She’s lucky her path allows her to preserve so much of herself. Were she a soldier, there would be nothing left but a war mask. No emotions to speak of. And honestly, that would be tragic. Because we’d lose a lot of what makes her, her. And while her services have value, she herself has a lot of value in her own right.

I think you have value too, Liivi. A person’s value is determined by more than just their utility. It might take awhile for you to believe that, so please just try to trust me for the time being, and open up to those emotions when you’re ready. There’s a lot for you to gain. They enhance your life, and you as a person.”

“Do you really think so? The deeper I go, the more painful it seems. Every day, I feel a little more disgusted with what I did.”

“I do think so. And…” she sighed. “I can’t say anything which will make that easier. But I can promise you that I’ll always be here to help tend that pain. And that braving that pain is worth it. I know what that disgust is like, but…” her open mouth gave way to a sad frown as she looked away, searching for words in the corner of the room. Her eyes returned to him. “It must be harder for you.”

“What makes you so sure?” Liivi tried to be comforting. He could read the signals.

“I can sense that some of your best features are locked in you, closely guarded. And that must make it harder. But they’re breaking out, bit by bit. Your heart, for one. A sense of compassion so strong it broke a lifetime of indoctrination. Remember that, especially when you compare yourself to others who wear their compassion more openly. You had to fight to free yours.”

“I suppose so.” He thought on it for a moment. “I promise I’ll keep trying. Your support, and the support of the others, definitely makes it… easier. But I do not think it will ever be easy. Thank you. I’ll be sure to thank the others. Ysukin especially. He was very helpful today. To both of us.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back into the couch, whole body going slack as she thought of the stressful day. “His defense of my character was more spirited than I expected. He puts on a fine professional air, but I suppose he does feel something beneath it all. It’s nice. I can see why he is so interested in working with you. He’s attached.”

Liivi didn’t budge much. Just another day at the office. “His long term request was approved today, today, actually. He’ll be my counselor for the foreseeable future. The committee found his credentials acceptable. But… he did confess that he was not interested in me, initially.”

“Oh?” Her eyes opened and she looked over.

“He was only interested in the data I held. However, after repeated interviews, he has said that he would rather see me aboard than not.”

Liivi may have been nonchalant, but maybe that’s because he didn’t realize it. The news woke Taldeer up a bit. “That sounds like a fantastic endorsement, coming from him. Would you call him a friend?”

“A strong word. I think he likes me more than he doesn’t. I don’t know if we’ll be ‘friends.’ Maybe one day.”

“We can hope.”

“Would you say that you are friends with Tanlon?”

“We have…” she played with her hair as she thought on it, “a professional respect. And I suspect that he has some sympathy for me. Fate is not always kind to seers. Sometimes, we get trapped in things bigger than we can grasp. His testimony was kinder than I expected. Or felt I deserved.”

“Maybe that’s what happened to you. Maybe you deserve better than you think.”

A sigh escaped her chest. But it wasn’t one of sadness. “Maybe.”

“What about the Scorpions? I couldn’t understand any of what they said.”

“Their statements were short and terse. Not really unfavorable. But hardly positive, either. Nothing more than observations. I get the sense that testifying made them nervous.”

“And what of that guardian? I haven’t seen him yet.”

“I think I know who you mean. Maubryn. His account of events was recorded, but he was deemed unfit to serve as a character witness. He was also placed in the brig for a short while. Only a week or so.”

“For your disagreement?”

“Something like that. His... outburst, didn’t escape the notice of Tanlon, Barroth, Elnys, and especially not Ysukin. They reported it. He was given a week in the brig. Treating superior officers as such is frowned upon.”

“That is all? I would have expected much harsher discipline.”

“Your sense of proportion for disciplinary action is still skewed. But you are correct, it was rather light. I don’t fault them. Nor do I fault him, to be honest. Mellorena meant a lot to him. She was his medic. I looked like a villain, leaving guardians like him to die while I fled, bringing you along…”

“But his perception of you is skewed.”

“Biased, maybe. But I still can’t resent him for believing it. He’s more fragile than you or I.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, everyone can become accustomed to violence, you know? Because there was a time when it was once necessary to live. It still is, in a sense, but not every has to fight, not everyone sees it first hand. If you grow up like that, without it, then getting used to it becomes harder. And much, much more traumatizing.” She shook her head, eyes gazing somewhere into the past.

“He didn’t want to be there. He knew he wasn’t fit to be there. But he still went there, because he had no choice. Somebody had to go. On Ulthwe, between chaos attacks, aid to other craftworlds and maiden worlds and other planetary populations, all the interventions in matters deemed necessary by the seer council, and entire campaigns launched by the seer council - we cannot always rely on volunteers. That’s the sad reality of our situation.

If he were altruistic, he would want to serve. But that’s not how most people work. They’re selfish. It’s possible to grow up in Ulthwe’s interior without ever seeing a chaos attack. I can understand why going from that, to a battlefield, would be hard on anyone.”

“Your compassion is stronger than you let on.”

She chuckled. “Do you forget that I’m a leader, Liivi? I need to understand why the people I lead make the choices they do, or what they want. Well, perhaps need is a strong word. When you do, it’s easier to make the right calls for them. I’m supposed to keep them safe, but more than that, I’d like to help them lead happy, productive lives. Understanding them helps. And just knowing you care can get them to like you.”

“I like you. Perhaps because, at times, you seem to understand me better than I understand myself.”

“I like you too, Liivi. If you’re ever questioning something I’m doing or saying, try to remember that. It may not always explain or justify it. But I’m looking out for you. Because I like you.”

“I am grateful, for your concern, Taldeer... I like it... But I still question whether I deserve it. There are many actions I ‘regret.’ Many people I killed. Many of your people.”

“Well,” the farseer stared at the ceiling, “I can say likewise.” She sighed, eyes staring somewhere far beyond the ceiling. Perhaps towards her old army.

“They make it hard to sleep," she paused, thinking on her words. "But while our regrets might mould us, they don’t have to decide our future. We can try again, you and I.”

“Will it make a difference?”

Taldeer looked over at the vindicare, gazing back at her with earnest concern in his eyes. “It will make more of a difference than if we did nothing,” she said. “And when you and I go to rest, that has to be enough. Because it’s all we can do, Liivi.”

“I suppose so.”

“You don’t sound very convinced.”

“It’s a lot to take in at once.”

“I suppose it is.”

The two sat in silence for a time.

“Well Liivi, if nothing else, consider this.” She began resting herself against him. “Suppose they decided to execute you, or perhaps you took your own life. I considered it. I’m sure you have. But think. What will we have been, then? Somebody who got a lot of people killed, then died.”

“To protect more.”

“That’s the motivation. But we don’t know that you would kill more. Suppose you became a gardener instead. Would you manage to kill a lot of innocent people? Probably not… we’ve both brought our fair share of darkness into this world. But that’s helped teach us the value of that light. What little we can add still has value. There plenty of professions which can do that. But in a grave? You can only be fertilizer.

Liivi, let’s fix all this. Together. Try again.”

There was a bit of hesitation at first. But slowly, tentatively, his hand grasped hers.

“Okay.”