Epilogue

Saren stepped around the young soldier who was now sweating under scrutiny. Which was just as well. It was only appropriate.

"And now the sniper," Saren said, probably for the fifteenth time, but he had to be sure. The soldier holstered his side-arm and extended the barrel of his standard issue Elanus Hammer. His arms were trembling slightly. He'd been posing for the better part of the last three hours. "Aim at me."

"Sir?"

"Don't make me repeat the order."

"Yes, sir."

Saren stood in his scope. At first, the soldier kept his free eye closed, but after a while, he opened it and studied Saren in return. It was an eye of pure emerald green. But the striking white paint on the soldier's face made the matter somewhat uncertain; after all, it had been almost twenty years. Saren sighed.

"You may put your weapon down. At ease."

The soldier put away the rifle and relaxed with his hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on some point behind Saren's right shoulder.

"Do you… remember me? And don't lie, because I'll know."

The green eyes widened in surprise and darted to meet Saren's. The soldier's mandibles flicked this way and that, and then he forced them tightly next to his chin. He swallowed and said, "Yes, sir."

"How old were you?"

"Five, sir. I think."

Saren nodded. It hadn't been his first guess, but his final estimate had been correct. He had only been twelve. "But you remember anyway?"

"I remember the… um…" and the soldier tracked an imaginary horn next to his long fringe.

"I see."

But now the soldier's face became a study of disbelief as Saren pointed his pistol square between those green eyes. "How about this? Do you remember this?"

To his credit, the soldier's voice did not falter. "No, sir. That was a Striker. I can't tell the make of your um… current pistol. But I'm guessing it's not a toy?"

And unbelievably, the soldier smiled.

"Spectre gear," Saren muttered, distracted. He'd made a promise to Desolas that day, and he would see it fulfilled. But maybe he didn't have to do it right away. He lowered the weapon, and the soldier's gaze followed it, not in fear, but in envy. He'd have to watch his things around this one. "What's your name?"

"Kryik, Sir. Nihlus Kryik."

"Nihlus," Saren repeated. Yes, that had been the name. "What else do you remember, Nihlus?"

And as they talked, Saren began to remember how good it felt not to be feared.

Author's Notes

This story is not a part of the Saren/Nihlus verse all my other stories are set in. One problem is with the age difference: to make this work I had to shrink the difference to seven years, and in all other stories it's eleven. The other problem is that I don't actually believe they met as children. Still, this was incredibly fun to write. Hope you had fun reading!