Brian sent me this amazing space-related link the other day. It blew my mind on so many levels. First: nebulas are gorgeous. Second: holy giant stars! Third: this is in what constellation? Scorpio? How lovely! (Spoiler, I named Shaula from one of the stars in Scorpio.)
The article makes a lot of Green Lantern references (which I love, DC comics rock my socks), but I’d like to offer an alternate fictional explanation (and sneak peek of something not yet published…)
“Shaula,” he said helplessly, his voice a mix of shock and horror. “Shaula.”
Just that, and I knew all that he meant. No “what have you done”; he knew what I’d done. No “how could you”; he knew exactly why I’d done it. Knew that if I hadn’t, the poison would have only spread, spread across the Galaxy; so subtle, so deadly, changing and corrupting and unmaking and…
It was still a monstrous thing. I will not look away from that; I will not dissemble. It was a monstrous, inhuman thing. But then, I am not human.
We looked out together over the roiling cloud of brightly glowing gases and dust painting the black; a nebula that had, just standard days before, been a star. And four planets, a handful of moons, small asteroid belt, oh, and seven hundred thousand human lives.
Milo looked out at the infant nebula, and I watched all the thoughts race across his face. What had been going on here… what I had stopped… had been unquestionably evil, and a danger to the entire Galaxy as we knew it. But what I had done… I watched a part of him balk, try to turn away from it. Watched him face it squarely. Wrestle with the thought.
“I need to think about this,” he finally said. Didn’t look at me.
I nodded, and left him there.