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Musings From Zo'or
by Seven
Disclaimer: Earth: Final Conflict and its characters are copyrighted by Tribune Entertainment Company. All rights reserved.
Note from Author: *Takes place during "Sleepers"*
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Zo'or looked over the stark lab, filled with medical tables. The humans on them were limp, inert. Dead.
Then he shook the thought away, dismissing it as some other Taelon's... Da'an's, perhaps. But they still looked dead, he thought. The sphere above them pulsated, and a small glowing pulse of life-energy streams up from each sleeper. Zo'or felt himself calm and relax as the Commonality's flow began to stabilize.
Then he looked down on the humans again. They looked small, and vulnerable. For a long moment, he wondered if they could fight the Jaridians... and then dismissed the thought as irrelevent. If they could not defeat the Jaridians, then another race would be found... they were expendable to save the Taelon race.
Then why did he feel so strange as he watched them? So sympathetic?
This was ridiculous, Zo'or scolded himself. Nothing was as important as the survival of the Taelon race. Nothing. *Nothing.*
And why was he trying to convince himself if he believed it so entirely? Zo'or took a deep breath and sighed, gripping the railing. He would do what was necessary to save his dying people. No less... and no more... than was necessary.
