“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” Gallen said.
“No. Ever since Dan’l let you down, you’ve found it harder and harder to exercise common sense. Jesus said that ‘In the last days, because wickedness shall abound, the love of many will wax cold.’ Well, Gallen, your heart has been waxing colder and colder ever since I met you. You’re a hard man now, hot for vengeance, hot to kill the dronon. You’re willing to go die under a tide of your enemies, while your sweet, sensible wife just wants to get away from this mess.”
“Sensible? We have a duty,” Gallen said. “She isn’t thinking of other people, her obligation to humanity. She’s afraid for herself.”
Orick countered, “She has a duty to her child, too. And she has more brains in her right ear than you have in your whole head! Gallen, I know you have faith in yourself, but that first win against the dronon was a fluke. The dronon know how you beat them, and Kintiniklintit won’t make that same mistake again. Maggie’s right to ask you to run. If you had any sense, you wouldn’t be talking like this!”
“But I’ve been exercising,” Gallen said. “I’m stronger now. I think I’ve got a kick that will pierce a dronon’s exoskeleton. I could win this fight!”
“Och, maybe,” Orick said, unwilling to let him pursue this line of thought, “but in the long run, your tenacity will only plant you in an early grave!”
“Maybe that is exactly what he wants,” Tallea said. The little she-bear had just pulled another vine over to the fire and hunkered on the ground, her paws down under her nose.
“What?” Orick asked the she-bear, his voice betraying his surprise at the remark.
“Maybe he wants to die,” Tallea said. “It’s what I’d do. Just as the Lords of Tremonthin transferred my memories, my dreams, into this body, they can design a new body for Gallen, one with the speed and strength of a Tekkar, the size of a Rodim. That’s what he wants. What does he care if the dronon slay him, so long as the Lords of Tremonthin bring him back stronger?”
“I wish it were so simple.” Gallen sighed. “Download my memories into a more fearsome body. If I could do it, I would slough off this flesh in a heartbeat.”
“Then why don’t you?” Orick asked.
Gallen looked to Tallea. “I think Tallea can tell you part of the answer.…”
Tallea scratched her snout with a paw and said, “A new body is clumsy. Arms and legs are shorter or longer than you remember. Muscles don’t work as you think.” Orick had noticed that Tallea was rather bumbling, even for an adolescent she-bear. He’d hoped she would grow out of it, but he hadn’t dared say anything. Tallea, after having been a human in her last life, had enough difficulty trying to acclimatize herself to being a bear without worrying about the fact that she was a hopelessly clumsy bear.
“Exactly,” Gallen said. “When you switch bodies, every muscle and bone is different in size and shape. It takes years for your brain to acclimate to those changes. I don’t have years. If I got myself downloaded into a clone tomorrow, I’d just get killed.
“But even if I could get a new body, I doubt that if I made such a major change, the dronon would allow me to fight. Veriasse considered rebuilding himself, but my mantle tells me he wisely chose against it. The dronon might see my genetic enhancements as weapons, unlawful for use in unarmed combat.”
“But that hasn’t stopped Kintiniklintit from fighting in the arena,” Orick countered.
“Kintiniklintit isn’t human,” Gallen said. “You know how reluctant the dronon were to let me fight in the first place. The same rules don’t apply to us that apply to them.”
Orick lay on the sandy ground and put his chin on his paws. He had never even imagined downloading Gallen into another body, yet everyone else around him had given the plan considerable deliberation.
“So there’s nothing you can do to better your odds,” Orick grumbled in such a tone that he let Gallen recognize that he, too, could see the futility of this plan.
“No,” Gallen said. “No stratagem I can come up with. Their exoskeletons are too thick. They fly too quickly. But, Orick, Orick, before you argue too strongly against fighting back, consider this: right now, I have defeated only the Lords of the Sixth Swarm. Six other lords want to fight me, but you also must recognize that they almost never challenge one another. Have you asked yourself why?”
“It’s not worth the trouble,” Orick said. “You don’t fight someone that tough if you don’t have to.”
“Precisely,” Gallen said. “I beat the Lords of the Sixth Swarm, but I didn’t do the job convincingly. The other dronon Lords see my victory as a fluke, a performance that is not likely to be repeated. But what if I did win again? What if I killed Kintiniklintit, and I did it convincingly?”
“So you think that if you kill him, the rest of the dronon Lords will shy away from fighting you in the future?”
“Exactly,” Gallen said. “The dronon have chosen this form of succession by nature. It seems right to them to fight for control. Their inherited behaviors, their sense of what is right, won’t allow them to explore any other method of succession. But the dronon aren’t stupid. The young Golden Queens don’t simply rush into battle when they attain their mature colors. They watch the Lords of the Swarm and consider and plot, often for decades. So long as the Lords of the Swarm appear strong, younger goldens don’t attack. According to my mantle, some Golden Queens live their entire lives without seeking to take control of the hive.”
“So you hope that if you can beat Kintiniklintit, the dronon might leave you alone?” Orick said, warily.
“I hope so,” Gallen said. “I have to believe there is something we can do. I have to believe that through strength and speed, and wit, and skill, and sheer force of will l can transcend this problem. The dronon are beatable. I’ve proven that. But even Maggie doesn’t really believe I can whip them a second time. I know I can. I can, and I will. But I can’t discuss this with Maggie now. She’s not ready to fight. She’s too frightened-she can’t even sleep because of the nightmares.” He looked off toward the ship, and there was worry in Gallen’s eye. Maggie was falling apart.
“Transcend the dronon then-” Orick said, “transcend your enemies. But don’t play their game. Don’t think that just because you learn to toss them two throws out of three, that you’ve won the war. They’ll come back and kill you for it. Even if you could beat Kintiniklintit, even if you killed every one of them, you’d lose your decency. Forget about them. You’ve fought them all you can, Gallen. Let someone else take up the sword. Forgive the dronon and everyone like them.”
“Orick,” Gallen said, shaking his head, “what does that accomplish? If we ignore evil, it will simply thump us on the head until we pay attention to it.”
Orick said, “I have a question for you: did David slay Goliath, or did God?” Gallen considered a long moment. “Are you saying that if I ignore the dronon, God will fight them? Even you don’t believe that!”
“Is anything too hard for the Lord?” Orick whispered, and he knew in that moment, though for his whole life he had fought the doubts, he did believe it. Gallen drew a surprised breath and stepped back. “Orick, I think maybe you should become a priest after all.”
Orick wasn’t sure what Gallen meant by that. Orick had considered leaving Gallen to study for the priesthood many times. Perhaps, Orick thought, this was a fight-the first fight they’d had-and Gallen was telling Orick that the time had come for Orick to leave. But no, Gallen spoke with a tone of both surprise and reverence. In the past, he’d always seemed amused by Orick’s interest in the priesthood. Now Gallen seemed astonished by it, and he took it seriously. Gallen was simply acknowledging a side of Orick that he’d never really appreciated. Orick said softly, “I would that all men were priests, devoting themselves to God.”