Lance knocked on Ilana's Door tentatively: her light shone from under the door long after she usually went to bed. For all her fears over the test, she obviously was taking her studying seriously. Despite her dedication, her history grades had been….less than stellar, recently. Ilana, being who she was, had spent every moment, since barely passing her last test, reading and studying, having Octus quiz her, and mumbling facts to herself whenever she got the chance.
All that had changed earlier that afternoon: Ilana had come out of school looking traumatized. Lance had immediately been concerned as Ilana spent the drive home staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and full of horror. She had clutched a red book to her chest in a death grip, her nails digging into the cover.
Upon arriving home, she had mumbled something about doing homework before dashing upstairs and slamming her door shut. The sound of her lock closing had confirmed her lack of desire to be disturbed.
Lance, unsure of what to do, had swept through his homework (who cared about the French revolution anyway?) and done his daily exercises. Ilana had declined dinner when Octus had called, furthering Lances' worry.
The discovery of her late-night reading had finally pushed him over the edge.
[=]
"Ilana?" he quietly called "you still awa-"
"Go away!"
Lance jerked back in alarm. Ilana never spoke like that, certainly not to him, much less in such a tone: it seemed torn between outrage and despair.
"Ilana? What is it?" he called again, reaching for the doorknob "I'm coming in!"
"I said go away!"
Yep. Definitely despair. He heard the barely restrained sob in her voice.
"Ilana…" he said "tell me what's wrong, and I'll leave you alone, Okay?"
Silence.
Lance stood for at least three minutes, before sighing and turning away. He then froze as he heard her lock slide open.
"…come in."
Lance waited for a long moment, before turning back and reaching for the door knob once more.
Lance opened the door silently, revealing Ilana's spacious room, the usual bright colors cast into shadow. He saw Ilana, sitting in Bed in her Pajamas, a red book open in her hands. The light from the single lamp on her bedside table cast a harsh glow over the otherwise dark room.
Her face caught his attention at once from where it was riveted on the book.
Her eyes were wide, and tears lurked at their edges. She swallowed, her lower lip trembling. Her shoulders were hunched, and she looked torn between bursting into tears and throwing the book at the wall in rage.
"Ilana?"
Silently, closing her eyes as if she were looking away from something repulsive, she slipped the book closed. Lance got a look at the Title:
"Atlas History of World War II" he said, reading it off. Ilana, still not looking at him, handed the book to him, cover-up.
"what's wrong?" he asked, more concerned with her than the red history book. Ilana, still looking away, waved the book at him, silently telling him that it was the cause of her consternation.
Stepping over and taking the book from her hands, he moved to sit on the bed as he opened it.
"This is what-" he began, before cutting off.
On the first page of the book was a large photograph: it was old, as shown by its lack of color.
In the photograph, an older man, in his 50's at least, dressed in some sort of Uniform appeared to be giving a passionate speech. The man's face was twisted in emotion, and Lance's eyes were drawn to his small, squared-off moustache that sat on the man's upper lip. Behind the man was a large flag: Lance couldn't tell the color, but the center of it was dominated by a large hooked cross.
"This man" read the text below the photo "is an icon of modern Evil. He is both insane and despicable, making murder an industrialized process for the singular goal of wiping out all those he considered inferior to his vision of mankind."
"This man is one of the greatest mass-murderers of Human history"
"This man is responsible for the largest and deadliest War in Human history"
"This man is Adolf Hitler."
"Lance?"
Lance looked up from the book to see Ilana looking at him at last. A few tears had dribbled down her cheeks as she stared at him, her eyes full of emotion.
"are we in the Pits of Damnation?"
Her question was so abrupt that it took him a moment to process it.
"what?" Lance asked, setting the book aside as he turned his body to face her better "what kind of question is that?"
"A reasonable one!" Ilana shot back sharply, a hitch in her voice. She pulled her blanket to her chin, shuddering , and not from cold. She turned to look outside, looking over the rows of houses that stretched for miles.
"these…people…they're so willing, EAGER, to kill one another…I thought…" she wiped at her eyes "...I had…I had thought Steel was an aberration…..a maniac…but…he's…by the gods Lance, he's NORMAL compared to some of these people…."
Reaching over and grabbing the book, she flipped it open from the back, revealing a second photo, this one in color. Stark, actinic color.
A massive explosion, its cloud arcing up into the sky, filled the entire page. The clouds parted around it, and small particles of debris filled the sky.
"Atomic bombs….bombs that can wipe out whole cities in an instant…cities full of people…" Ilana said, starting to choke on her tears "Lance…of all the planets we could have ended up on…"
She cast the book to the floor, rolling over and burying herself under her blankets as a sob finally tore from her throat "…why a world where humaniods are greater monsters than the Mutraddi?!"
Lance sat in silence as Ilana's body began shuddering under the blankets, soft sobs filling the empty room.
As a Soldier, he had seen many things. Much of what was in the book were things he was very familiar with: carpet bombing, massed displacement, brutal urban warfare that left streets filled with corpses….
Neutron bombs that flattened cities in an instant….
He gently reached out and placed a Hand on Ilana's shoulder as she continued crying. It occurred to him that Ilana, the Cloistered princess, had never seen the ugly side of her race. He sighed inwardly.
"they're not all like that Ilana." he muttered quietly, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. she went quiet for a moment.
"I know, but..."
"It happened Ilana. we can't explain it, and we certainly can't excuse it. but we can work to make sure it doesn't happen again."
She rolled back to look at him again. her eyes were red with emotion.
"we can give them hope…" he said, smiling "so they never have to give in to fear…" He looked to where the book had fallen. It had landed open, revealing another photo, this once of a group of uniformed men marching before a massive reviewing stand, Hitler standing atop it, saluting the crowd "…like they did."
Ilana was silent. But as she rolled back over, he thought he saw the barest hint of a smile on her face.
He remained in his position long after Ilana had finally fallen asleep, her body still shaking now and then. He could only Imagine the nightmares she would have.
He tucked Ilana's blankets closer around her, making sure not to wake her.
He wouldn't destroy Ilana's Idealism, her beautiful image of Galaluna and Humanoids. Not tonight. Not ever.
If he could help it, she would never find out all the truths about her race.
She would never lose hope.