Beka had laughed with Harper about their duration at the underground
compound , but staring out at the starfield around her, she couldn't find
anything funny about it. She definitely hadn't lived the charmed life, but
that was the first time she'd been physically hurt so badly. So much
hatred and anger focued upon her, and she didn't know why. No, she knew
why she had been abducted and thought she understood why Charlemagne had
ordered her torture... but not why those Nietzscheans had loved hurting
her. Harper liked saying that the universe hated them, and Beka had always
agreed. But what she really believed in was the supreme indifference of
the universe and of most people she met. She ignored them, and they
ignored her. That suited her fine. This hatred, though... this fury at
her from people she'd never injured in any fashion... no matter how she
reminded herself that the universe was full of people angry and bitter
through no fault of her own, that only someone utterly naive would be
shocked by this behavior, she simply could not comprehend what she had
borne.
Quiet footfalls landed behind her, and Beka jumped. She was horrified to discover that her eyes were swimming in tears. Blinking rapidly, she turned to face whoever had interrupted her reverie. "Gaheris?"
"I can understand if you desire privacy, and I know that you may find it... difficult to confide in me after what you have endured." He looked older than Beka remembered. "I do not mean to hurt you anymore, Beka, but if you do want to talk..." His dark eyes rested softly on her.
She didn't think that he could truly understand what she had been through, but part of her did want to talk. "I- I don't blame you. I want you to know that right now. Charlemagne just proved everything you ever said about him, and I'm glad that you refused to let him into the Commonwealth." A small cry escaped her. "I just wish he hadn't chosen me to make his point." Rhade came a half-step closer but dropped his hands after he began to reach for her, unsure how she would react to his touch. "It wasn't the blows or the pain or the long stretch of monotony for over a month. Hell, at first I was just glad for a change of scenery." She heaved a shuddering sob. "I just couldn't understand why they hated me so much."
She raised her watery azure eyes to his. "They... you weren't always like this, were you? When the Systems Commonwealth was vibrant and strong, Nietzscheans weren't... bullies and slavers and sadists, were they?" Her voice held a note of desperation.
This time, Rhade couldn't stop himself from enfolding her in his arms. "Some of them were, yes. Some of us always will be, just as are some humans and Than. The greatest Nietzschean weaknesses have always been forgetting the 'human' in superhuman and accepting what they've learned, without question. We may rise and rebel against all we've ever known... but we find it infinitely more difficult to question our own insular society and the values we hear so often ascribed to us. In the old Commonwealth, we were forced to work with other species, to listen to other people. From what I've read and experienced of my people now, they've isolated themselves. They've forgotten Drago Museveni's vision for the Nietzschean people--warrior poets, acting in enlightened self-interest. Now most of them are mediocre as true warriors--"
"And absolutely hopeless poets," Beka finished. Rhade's quiet voice was soothing, and she felt calmer already. Better.
He smiled down at her. "Indeed. If my people knew, they would accuse me of betraying them at Witchhead." He shook his head slowly. "I didn't betray them, Beka. They betrayed themselves. A Nietzschean empire could never survive, as long as each and every member viewed himself as the smartest and bravest and most capable--as perfect."
They turned and gazed at the glittering stars, neither moving nor speaking.
Quiet footfalls landed behind her, and Beka jumped. She was horrified to discover that her eyes were swimming in tears. Blinking rapidly, she turned to face whoever had interrupted her reverie. "Gaheris?"
"I can understand if you desire privacy, and I know that you may find it... difficult to confide in me after what you have endured." He looked older than Beka remembered. "I do not mean to hurt you anymore, Beka, but if you do want to talk..." His dark eyes rested softly on her.
She didn't think that he could truly understand what she had been through, but part of her did want to talk. "I- I don't blame you. I want you to know that right now. Charlemagne just proved everything you ever said about him, and I'm glad that you refused to let him into the Commonwealth." A small cry escaped her. "I just wish he hadn't chosen me to make his point." Rhade came a half-step closer but dropped his hands after he began to reach for her, unsure how she would react to his touch. "It wasn't the blows or the pain or the long stretch of monotony for over a month. Hell, at first I was just glad for a change of scenery." She heaved a shuddering sob. "I just couldn't understand why they hated me so much."
She raised her watery azure eyes to his. "They... you weren't always like this, were you? When the Systems Commonwealth was vibrant and strong, Nietzscheans weren't... bullies and slavers and sadists, were they?" Her voice held a note of desperation.
This time, Rhade couldn't stop himself from enfolding her in his arms. "Some of them were, yes. Some of us always will be, just as are some humans and Than. The greatest Nietzschean weaknesses have always been forgetting the 'human' in superhuman and accepting what they've learned, without question. We may rise and rebel against all we've ever known... but we find it infinitely more difficult to question our own insular society and the values we hear so often ascribed to us. In the old Commonwealth, we were forced to work with other species, to listen to other people. From what I've read and experienced of my people now, they've isolated themselves. They've forgotten Drago Museveni's vision for the Nietzschean people--warrior poets, acting in enlightened self-interest. Now most of them are mediocre as true warriors--"
"And absolutely hopeless poets," Beka finished. Rhade's quiet voice was soothing, and she felt calmer already. Better.
He smiled down at her. "Indeed. If my people knew, they would accuse me of betraying them at Witchhead." He shook his head slowly. "I didn't betray them, Beka. They betrayed themselves. A Nietzschean empire could never survive, as long as each and every member viewed himself as the smartest and bravest and most capable--as perfect."
They turned and gazed at the glittering stars, neither moving nor speaking.