Barbarians

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies

When everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you’ll bleed just to know you're alive

Goo Goo Dolls - “Iris”

Jiyazh didn’t bother looking up as the hatch to his quarters opened. There was little point. By his calculations, they must near Gzuj, which meant Admiral Fujimoto was preparing to show him its destruction, and the thought sickened him.

She was not the same person he had met all those years ago, as he recovered from his wounds. Then she was every inch the warrior, with no hint of the madness that filled her now. He had turned his back to the Path of War after they broke the fleet, no longer worthy to carry the title Dhyaksh, but there was more to it than that.

He was tired.

Tired of the constant, never-ending fighting. Tired of watching brother warriors die, to no purpose. Tired of trying to fulfill an eons-old promise, the pretext for which no longer seemed valid. Just...tired.

But no one can escape the fate their ancestors have laid out for them, no matter how hard they may try.

“...Jiyazh.”

His head snapped around in surprise, at the sound of Nassat’s voice. “So...you are here to do the Admiral’s bidding,” he said. “Somehow, I thought better of you.”

The Saurotaur stepped forward, and Jiyazh realized there was something different about him. His bearing, the cast of his eyes, his apparel…

He cocked his head as he scrutinized his visitor. “The last time I saw that uniform, a human was wearing it,” Jiyazh said. “It would seem you have made a name for yourself.”

Nassat sighed. “At every turn, someone always seems intent on adding to my burdens,” he replied, his voice tinged with regret. “This time, at least, it allows me to redress a wrong.”

“Indeed?” Jiyazh rose to his feet and folded both sets of arms. “Are you preparing to end the war?”

“No,” he said, “but perhaps you can.”

The former Dhyaksh threw back his head and laughed...a bitter, caustic laugh. “That would seem unlikely, given my current status.”

“As I have learned to my dismay...status can change.” He shrugged and gave the Khonhim warrior an apologetic look. “What they did to you at Dzach was unconscionable, Jiyazh...but you must recognize the storm your people have conjured, by attacking the humans in this way?”

“...it is possible that Dhyaksh Uydan misread their probable response,” he admitted, before fixing Nassat with a look. “It is also possible that he did not.”

“What could he hope to gain?” he asked in puzzlement. “You have attacked a predator in its den without provocation or warning, bereft of any trace of the honor I expected of the Khonhim.” His eyes pleaded for understanding. “In the name of the Creator…why?”

“...because we lost, Nassat,” he said. “For millennia we had prepared for the Great Crusade, only to see it disintegrate before our eyes. It shook my people down to their very core, leaving us without direction...or purpose.” He grimaced and looked away. “Chugaz seized on that sense of despair, grasping it with both hands, and vowed to my people that he could lead them to victory.”

“He has led them to be slaughtered,” Nassat grimaced. “I do not believe you realize the nature of what you have unleashed in the humans.”

“Perhaps that was true before Dzach, Marshal,” he said, “but I can assure you...I recognize it now.” His face showed the discomfort he was feeling. “When we first met them in battle they were ill-prepared and untested. We swept them aside with ease...but that soon changed as the war progressed. Now? They have had ten years to plan for this day, and they have not rested on their victories.” He shook his head and looked away. “I wish they had.”

“Then perhaps there is a way for you to save your people, Jiyazh,” Nassat said. “We are preparing to launch our forces against those defending Gzuj, and I must tell you, the odds are not in your favor. I have every confidence that we will defeat the Khonhim fleet, and when we do...”

“...the Admiral will once again leave our world barren,” he said quietly.

“I hope that will not be necessary,” Nassat replied, “though a great deal of that depends on you.”

The Khonhim turned to face him. “You expect me to betray my people?” he shot back. “How little you must think of me...and how much less you must understand me.”

Nassat stepped forward. “Chugaz betrayed your people,” he said. “Even with my current position, I am uncertain I can contain the human’s wrath. They want your people dead, Jiyazh. They wish to visit upon you the same fate as my ancestors once did...only this time they will ensure that no one survives.”

“Admiral Fujimoto has made that quite clear,” he said.

“Yes, she did,” Nassat agreed. “So answer me this....when the fleet defending Gzuj is defeated, and our forces call upon the planet to surrender...what will be their response?”

It was several moments before Jiyazh answered. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Nassat nodded in agreement. “Neither do I. Perhaps they will accept the reality of their situation, perhaps they will not. Perhaps...they would not believe the humans would be so quick to destroy them. Unless you explained to them what you witnessed at Dzach. You, they would believe.”

His laugh was even more harsh, this time. “You do not know my people,” Jiyazh said. “I am disgraced, a false and fallen leader...and one who comes to them aboard a ship commanded by their enemies.” He shook his head. “No, they will not listen to me.”

“We must try,” Nassat pleaded with him, “for the only other alternative will be their destruction.”

“And you would order this, Nassat?” Jiyazh said in disbelief. “You, the pacifist? Did you not tell me you would always choose life over death?”

Nassat found it difficult to meet his gaze, yet stood his ground. “...I would,” he admitted. “Chugaz has done everything in his power to enrage the humans. If there is a psychological trigger he has somehow overlooked, I am certain it was only by accident.” He sighed and shook his head. “The fates of all our races hang by a thread, Jiyazh. If we cannot make your people see reason...then the humans will do everything in their power to ensure the Khonhim can never threaten anyone ever again.”

“Not so easily done,” Jiyazh said with growing confidence. “Your own race attempted the same, long ago, and failed.”

“They are not us,” he pressed, “and I assure you, the humans will not fail. They will make it their life’s work to see your race destroyed, and they will never, ever forget. If it takes another ten millennia, they will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy, and dance on your graves. I beg you, help me, Jiyazh,” he whispered, “for without your intercession, they will condemn your race to oblivion.”

“...why?” Jiyazh snarled, filled with anger, “why do you care what happens to us? Your wife would not argue so hard for our survival. She would gladly assist the humans…so why are you risking everything to save my race?”

“Because if they do this, if the humans take that final step of madness, there will be no turning back,” Nassat said quietly, “and who do you think will be next?”

Jiyazh froze...and then began to nod. “Finally, a motive I can understand,” he said at last. “I make no promises...but I will try. For both our peoples.”

“Then come with me now,” Nassat urged, guiding him to the door, “and pray the people of Gzuj will listen.”