NOTICE — "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. — BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR, per G.G., Chief of Ordnance."
— Mark Twain, Epigraph to Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, 1885
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Erin Quill strides purposefully into the hall, bluntly pushing open the ornate wooden double doors. Two guards follow him, alert but not threatening. After the first several rounds of questioning convinced them that he wasn’t trying to escape in any way, his keepers had stopped jumping at his every move.
The hall was simply built, with lines of white marble arches flanking the long floor on either side, revealing shadowy side wings and windows. A red carpet ran the length of the room down the middle. The grand, arching ceiling seemed to glow white, and the ornate, golden throne of the South is framed by spectral gray light flowing through the window behind it.
Old age is clearly taking its toll on King Karastotz. His hair is gloomy white, his face wrinkled, his eyes somewhat dulled, but he still sits on his throne with a regality befitting the ruler of the Nation Atop The World. Erin moves to kneel before him.
“Don’t bother, Erin,” Karastotz says. Erin stands back up. “Now. Erin Quill, former royal scientist of the Republic of the South, what do you have to say?”
“Nothing that I have not said before,” Erin answers briskly. “To the best of my knowledge, Mira Kethalyn was coerced into making a biological weapon that could wipe out all humans not descended from Antarctica.”
“An accusation which, luckily for you, she does not deny,” the king interjects.
“My lord, I should note that I’m sure Padelheb would be the type to imprison and execute every scientist that went against him until he found one that would do what he told.”
“Stop making excuses for her, Quill. I knew Padelheb. He was perfectly capable of manipulating her to do whatever he wanted. She is as blameless as you.”
A young, thin, and sharply dressed man steps out of the shadows, holding a stoppered vial. It’s clear and a liquid sloshes within. “Shouldn’t we take a sample out of this first, to make sure it’s what he says it is?”
King Karastotz gestures at the man. “Quill, meet our new Guardian of the State, Enir Nest.”
Quill is paying more attention to the vial in his hands. He points at it. “That’s the bioweapon? You still have that thing lying around? Why? You need to destroy it. As soon as possible.”
“How would you recommend destroying it?” asks Karastotz.
“Incineration,” says Quill without hesitation. “I’d prefer it to be dropped into a volcano or something, but any standard autoclave should do. Hell, pouring it down the drain may be safe enough. Neither component virus is that well known for surviving in the wild. The important thing is that it’s destroyed before it comes near a possible host.”
“And that would remove all evidence that could prove or disprove your story,” Nest notes.
“I think that Mira’s papers and earlier experiments should make it quite clear what she was trying to do. And we can’t test it unless we expose it to an Argentinian, and that would condemn them to a painful death. Taking a sample runs a risk of letting it out, and that would kill several million people. It has to go, as soon as possible.”
Nest seems to consider this. “Good point,” he says. He hands the vial over to Quill, who carefully receives it. King Karastotz motions Quill over and hands him a pen light.
“UV light,” the King explains. “I took it from the guard that captured you and personally saw to it that it was tamper-proofed, then signed my seal into it in around seven different varieties of invisible ink. I want you to have no doubt that you are destroying the right thing, Quill. You should be able to verify at any point that you’re not holding a fake. We can’t afford for it to get lost or stolen in transit. It goes straight from here to the nearest autoclave, don’t put it down until it’s destroyed.”
“Yes, sir,” says Quill.
Nest coughs. “There is one matter to discuss. We have to consider whether we’re going to let the people of South America know how close they came to destruction. Leaving them in the dark will make the death of Padelheb look suspicious, but how they will react to knowledge of the bioweapon is… unpredictable.”
What should we do?
A: “Don’t tell them. Padelheb’s lies will die in time, but this will scare them.” (Accepts a -1 Political)
B: “We have to tell them. They have a right to know, and they’ll find out eventually.” (Rather risky Political roll)
Poll
13 (46.4%)
Author
Topic: (SG) SPAMOVERLORD: Epilogue: Guest Week (Read 292838 times)