The Draconequi came before the podium. It had been set up in a blasted field not far from the former test center, with the dazzling light show of the breach spitting energy and magma into the air directly behind it.
In front of the podium rested thirty-eight folding chairs, one for each of the remaining nations. The bodyguards and assistants of the representatives stood far behind the chairs, talons or paws brushing against their weapons as they regarded each other distrustfully.
All around hovered the monstrous, blobby forms of the antibodies of Ar Epona. Immune cells bigger than a person, they existed to purge infections dangerous to the health of the planet. And that health was now critical.
On the ground below the antibodies sat the guardians, vicious plant-beasts that snapped and snarled at any Draconequus moving too far from the designated area. They resembled wolves, but the Draconequi had no animal name to make the pun “timber wolf” in their languages.
The host scowled down at everything. Like the guests, he looked like a Draconequus, but there was one major difference. Each of his wings, paws, and legs was mismatched, a genetic freak that had set him apart from everyone and made him unwelcome everywhere. Or at least, his body’s former inhabitant. As the final part of his grand arc of revenge, John Discord had erased himself to provide the room to trap a Will of Ar Epona in his body.
Pacafek was a most unhappy Will. The idiot mortals had nearly killed Ar Epona in one fell swoop, at the direction of a madman intent on the grandest murder-suicide he could imagine: destroying not just himself, his family, or his society, but the very world that allowed all of this. In the center of the crater sat the Heart of Ar Epona, wrenched from the core via horrifying technology that was now thankfully lost. Discord hadn’t really planned on what would happen after his scheme, as he had calculated that it would invariably be “nothing.”
It was, however, time for Pacafek to speak. It was a variation of what he’d always done, just more directly. He was the Will governing natural selection, so he had the sole responsibility for determining if a species was suitable to be part of the planet’s future.
He gave a speech explaining his position. It wasn’t dishonest, as such. It laid out what had happened, why, who was responsible, and why the planet had “allowed” it to happen. It bothered him that Discord’s will had been so strong that the planet could not steer his course away from this, but what had happened had happened.
Then he explained where they went from there. The antibodies and guardians would do the best they could to protect the Heart. If they succeeded, the planet would live. Otherwise, nothing mattered. Obviously they offered to help, but he could sense their desire to earn “favor” with the planet itself. He declined all offers. It wasn’t like they could really do anything, anyway. John Discord had been their foremost researcher in that field, and he’d gathered everyone who knew anything to his laboratory, formerly located at ground zero.
Pacafek explained the test next. Each of the nations would be given a box. In the box would be the power to control the antibodies that would now be swarming about the planet aimlessly in response to its distress. The test would be failed if “too many” of the boxes were opened.
Obviously they asked what would constitute “too many” boxes opened. His only reply was that they’d know immediately. He declared his part ended as the delegates suddenly found their chairs (and themselves in them) arranged in a circle facing inward.
They came to an agreement, of course. They would open no boxes. All of them could easily figure out what would happen if they failed a test from the Will of Selection. They were, of course, all planning to secretly open the boxes. He could see that as if it had already happened.
The boxes, of course, did actually contain the power to control antibodies. It wouldn’t bestow or grant it on anyone, or allow a selection of commands. All it would do is broadcast “eat these fools” over and over until the nation was consumed entirely. Not merely its inhabitants, but its artifacts.
After they were gone, Pacafek summoned a mirror to examine himself. Honestly, if he had to be trapped in a form, this one wasn’t bad looking. Aside from any remains that had fallen far from civilization and become fossilized, he’d be the only thing left to prove Draconequi had ever existed.
The planet would heal, though many scars would remain. He knew this. He had time to plan future projects. There was a distant offshoot of the Draconequi that looked promising, small quadrupeds with vestigial wings, a single, small, blunt horn, and minor endurance-boosting magic in their legs. The body didn’t produce enough magic to use all that at once, but maybe subspecies, controlled by sets of homeotic genes, could activate different magical organs. Of course, maybe they’d hate each other for being different like the Draconequi had. Well, still did. The delegates’ airships were just taking off. They weren’t extinct for another couple days.
He felt an odd sense of guilt in that. He’d purged entire branches of the tree of life when they no longer could thrive. He’d knocked off small sapient offshoot species when they proved uncompetitive with the larger line. But he’d never really done both at once. And it bothered him. He knew such emotions were unbecoming to a Will in his position, but he felt them anyway.
He still wanted to go ahead with the little ponies, or whatever he’d call them. Maybe they’d learn to get along before it was too late.
The mirror still hovered in front of him. “Discord,” he said looking at it. “That’s a good name. I’m keeping it. Much easier for mortals to pronounce.” He cocked one eye. “I need a hobby, something silly.”