As related by His Most Sublime and Eminent Radiance, Balin, Archon of Shambhala
Cillian’s death, disappearance, whatever you want to call it has everyone rattled. Morale is low, much lower than you’d expect with Tara around. She’s holding the whole thing together, the strength of her will forcing us to respond with appropriate n’aashet n’aaverti.
Ailann’s a mess. Right back into the gutter. I understand that he’s grieving, but is he going to do this every time things go to hell? We can’t rely on that. What kind of an Archon is he?
All right, all right, I’ve got to stop rushing to judge. The last time I did that, I ran my mouth off about Chase and Whirljack and caused all kinds of trouble. And, as it turned out, I didn’t understand a damn thing about them.
Chase isn’t at all like I expected. I miss him. I hope that he’ll be back soon.
I’ll think about something productive instead. Like how we’ll defeat these attackers. According to Marius, there are 31 left, but only ten of them are coming at us now. One is heading for Ari, five towards the shoreline, and the rest are still scattered. It would be very helpful to trick them into a mass attack. Picking them off one-by-one will be onerous. And we have no idea what’s happening in the Domha’vei while we mess around.
Let’s check on the quest aspirants.
« Aren’t you done with that yet? » I ask Mickey.
« It isn’t that easy, » he replies. « We’re used to being able to scan a text and then access it through branch memory, but I can’t do that now. I actually have to read this fucker, word by word, and it’s taking forever. »
« Have you learned anything about the Vikings? »
« I’ve learned tons about the Vikings, but none of it particularly important, » he says. « At least not now. »
So far, Aran has pasted a Squirrelworld ticket and the prayer flag onto his poster board. « I have no idea how I’m supposed to get the materials to do this, » he says. « On the surface, it seems like an easy achievement, but perhaps I have to travel everywhere to collect souvenirs. »
Jamey is crocheting furiously, so I leave him alone.
The last three times I checked, Lorcan was staring at a blank canvas. This time, he is busily at work. I’m interested to see what he’s painted.
The canvas is now entirely black.
« It’s the background, » he hisses. « The background is important. »
I hold my tongue and walk away. This is all a waste of time, a fucking waste of time.
Callum, however, is not wasting his time. He’s borrowed a whetstone from the Teriyaki chik-henn vendor and is sharpening his knives.
He’s going to attack the invaders with knives?
I feel ill. The level of violence has become appalling. Three of us are supposed to have the capacity to kill: Patrick, Cillian and Suibhne. Before this incident, only Patrick had ever killed a human.
Now Ailann has killed, and it looks like things are going to get messy. Chances are, I will have to kill.
Could I do that?
If it had to be, it had to be. I would endure it, for the sake of the others. Come to think of it, it would probably be best if someone took that on, to keep the violent impulses as contained as possible.
Besides, we don’t know if we’re really even hurting the invaders. Maybe it’s just like a game, and the only result is that they get kicked out of the pleroma.
But I don’t know that for sure. It’s possible that they really die. If so…
My head hurts.
I go to see an expert. Two experts, actually, Ross and Seth.
« Historically, in a firing squad, one of the bullets was always a blank, » says Seth. « That was so the executioners could tell themselves that perhaps their bullet didn’t kill the condemned. Personally, I’ve always thought that was a weasel rationale. Intent to kill is morally the same as killing. »
« Legally, I disagree, » says Ross. « Attempted murder is punished, but not with the same severity as murder. And there’s also punishment for killing someone accidentally, no matter how innocuous your intentions. »
My head hurts.
« Killing during war has always been considered as ethically distinct from other sorts of killing, » says Seth. « Under certain circumstances, it could be considered self-defense, which is always ethically justifiable, although certain very pure philosophers of peace have advocated that it’s better to let yourself be killed than to bloody your hands. The part of me that is a tree finds a certain elegance in that philosophy. The part of me which is human thinks it’s appallingly stupid. The part of me which is human also thinks that trees have developed a philosophy of passive resistance because of their inability to develop weapons. In any case, murder is certainly distinct from warfare. Within our ranks, a careful line has been drawn between Patrick, who is a murderer and not a warrior, and Cillian, who is – was – is a warrior and not a murderer. »
« What about Suibhne? »
« Suibhne is mad, » says Ross. « Ethically and legally, he’s not culpable. »
« Then Suibhne should really be handling this. But Suibhne is missing, one of the group that went towards Ophion. »
« In any case, it will be better for you to kill than Callum, » says Seth. « Your motives are pure – to protect your fellows and to free the pleroma. If Callum is allowed to kill in the bitterness of hatred, he’ll become corrupted. »
« But how are we going to stop him? It seems wrong to deny him his vengeance, and I’m not sure we could if we tried. He doesn’t look like he’s going to let anything get in his way. »
« You have a rifle, » says Ross. « He has a knife. Work it out. »
I have a rifle, but after Ari, I’m the biggest, and I’m physically the strongest, and I’m going to commandeer Cillian’s plasma cannon.
« You’ve worked it out, » says Ross.
« The idea that trees don’t kill is propaganda, » says Seth. « What happened to the Dolparessan deathweed? »
« We don’t talk about the Dolparessan deathweed, » says Ross.
Just then, there’s an announcement: “Ace del Eden’d, Number One. 38th to emanate, 22 in the color scale, resonates to 79. 1.741 meters tall, cock size 16.54 cm when erect, apparent age 28. Bookmaker. Totem is Acer palmatum, the Japanese maple, fixed star is Sadachbia, the lucky star of the tents. Esoteric symbol is the geomantic glyph Fortuna Minor, lesser fortune. Dessert is redberri-nau’gsh smoothie. Function is adjudicative gravity, proto-conscious tendency is foresight, designated Easy. Blazon is bendy sinister or and cobalt violet, an ace of hearts, proper.”
Finally! We all crowd into Ace’s branch. « What took you so long? »
« It’s a fish story, » says Ace. « But I think what everyone wants to know is the shortest path to victory. »
« Yes! »
« Use the mecha, » he says.
The mecha. Of course – a mecha isn’t just a robot – it’s a robot which can have a human pilot. It’s incredibly well-armored, has a fearsome arsenal of weapons – and most of all, it can fly, which will make tracking down the stray assassins much easier.
« The only problem with that idea is that we aren’t in control of the mecha, » Marius points out. « That means someone will have to defeat the Robot of Doom. »
« Right, » says Ace. « We were planning on joining your group, but I guess we’ve got another assignment. »
« You’ve got Patrick, Rand and Wynne. Are any of them remotely capable of defeating a mecha – or flying it? »
« We’ll improvise, » says Ace. That’s how we roll. »