315 Fury
To expect everything to go according to plan is foolish. To anticipate deviations from projected conditions and factor them into a plan is smart. To create a plan upon which adjustments can be made to accommodate unanticipated deviations is genius.
Donovan sought the third, practiced the second, and hoped for the first, but nothing in his vast array of tools and stratagems was suitable for the storm he found himself in the center of. This scheme of Diana's had placed him in a position worse than even the first condition, one where he didn't even have a plan to work off of. So as he slowly opened his eyes, body otherwise stunned by Titanyana's bold action, his focus shifted to the gold haired woman in the periphery.
A grin, beautiful and sinister, stretched across her face. She had wanted him to develop a romantic relationship with Titanyana for a while now, hoping to use this connection to exercise control over the Nekh. That said, she wouldn't have been able to plan Titanyana's feelings for him. This much Donovan could be sure of.
The specifics of Nekh romance had been floating in the back of his mind ever since they were mentioned, quietly ruminated over whenever he had a moment of free time. Diana could not manipulate these base instincts the Nekh possessed, at least not yet, so it was impossible for her to have made Donovan Titanyana's 'mate'. There was only one person who could have done this.
Donovan.
Cautiously wrapping his arms around her, he realized this was a monster of his own design. Sure, he might have been ignorant of this incredibly important facet of Nekh biology, but that wasn't much of an excuse. There was no longer a choice, nothing he could say to Diana to push off the uncomfortable arrangement of having two lovers. The two of them had forced a confrontation, one he had no means to escape. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, Titanyana was now his responsibility.
One eye looked over at a crowd stunned into silence as he pondered when this 'bond' could have formed. In all honesty, there were too many for him to cover, too many times he had been physically close to her in a protective role - which he surmised would be the most likely time a bond would form given their relationship.
"Impossible!" The first voice wasn't someone he could attach a face to, however the murderous glares developing off to the side indicated he wasn't alone in his opinion.
"My lady, you must be joking!"
"An outsider?!"
A few seconds of silence passed after this brief collection of outbursts. Some were certainly weighing their participation against a probable retaliation from their queen, however Donovan suspected a counterblow would not come. Titanyana was, by nature, a reserved and shy individual, one who possessed a limited capacity for social interaction of a nature this serious. The proceedings of the day had undoubtedly exhausted her, and she was unlikely to be in a state of mind to formulate a rebuttal. She needed someone to pick up the baton and carry this convention to the finish line, someone with the proper position and gravitas to stymy the growing outrage.
That being said, it wasn't like Diana could step in on her behalf. As good as Diana might be at politicking and social navigation, her position as the 'first wife' would undoubtedly stoke the fire of opposition in the hearts of those already discontent with forfeiting their autonomy. Kayes and Cayzi were out of the question for obvious reasons, while Leno could not truly be relied upon to take her side on this matter.
"We insist you get away from-"
"Silence." Donovan would have to step in. He'd prefer not being put on the defensive if he could at all avoid it, but compared to the alternatives this was the best. Why should he care what they thought of him?
"Excuse me?"
"Are those ears of yours for show?" Prying Titanyana's arms off enough to stand up straight, Donovan maintained her embrace around his chest. "I told you to shut your mouth."
"Why you-"
"What don't you understand about shutting the fuck up?" Having positioned himself to view the crowd, he could now see who was speaking out against him. Eye contact and a murderous tone was enough to knock this idiot down, but it wouldn't do for others. This small bit of momentum needed to be capitalized on. "It's a problem I've noticed most of you have, actually. For all this display of respect and silence when authority speaks, none of you seem to make use of those skills when the situation calls for it."
"Lord Donovan-"
"Watch it, Lasse." Friend or foe, Donovan could not have someone interrupting him here. This was an opportunity to establish a power dynamic. "The one speaking right now is me. Not you, not Titanyana, ME. Sit down, shut up, and maybe find it within yourselves to learn something, because I'll be damned if this meeting wasn't the most grotesque waste of time I've ever been subjected to."
An exaggeration, but a necessary one.
"Seriously, do any of you know how to get anything done? Or is it standard practice to bring up palace upholstery whilst planning an evacuation?"
"How is this relevant to-"
"Because I say it is." It was important to prevent them from finishing a point. He'd prefer if they didn't speak at all but cutting them off at the pass might be the limit of his oratory influence. "And I say as much because it is the easiest of your many flaws to identify. None of you have ground to stand on to criticize her for . . . what? Something you should have considered a possibility when you sent her off? A component of her biology she possesses limited control of? Falling in love? Is that the stance you morons decided to take?" Donovan scanned the crowd, daring anyone to speak up in defense of their outburst. "I cannot understand where you developed the balls to shame your Queen for something so trivial, especially not when you don't seem to use them anywhere else."
"You besmirch our pride?!"
"What's there to be proud of?" Donovan discretely shifted Titanyana to his side, pushing her towards Diana so he could properly engage the crowd. He couldn't take his eyes off of them lest he lose the edge he shouted into existence, but she got the message without eye contact or verbal address. "What do you take pride in?"
Free of his adorable little shackle, he willingly placed himself within striking range by descending to their level.
"Is it the neatly stacked bodies lining either side of the street? I'm certain keeping the limbs in place was a monumental effort after the fourth or fifth layer." He leaned over the table of the nearest heckler, looking directly into his eyes from mere inches away as a mocking smile spread across his face. "The kids go up top, don't they? They're lighter, right? Easier to handle with their smaller bones, I'm sure! Are you proud about that?"
Donovan was practically begging to be struck, to be given the opportunity to drag this into a field he was supremely confident in.
"Maybe it's the great works of infrastructure you have here. I've not seen many of them myself, but I've heard they are in pristine condition, sort of like this city." He shifted his attention to another of Titanyana's critics. "Such a shame it's empty though, so much effort wasted maintaining things that won't ever be used. Part of me wonders how much more you could have accomplished if you concentrated your labor on more productive ends . . . but I guess you were all too proud of your unused junk to let it deteriorate, huh?"
He chuckled, scanning the assembly to gauge their rising fury.
"Oh, I get it. You guys are proud of 'Nekh'! I'll admit, your home is very pretty. I've not seen much of it, but you must have worked really hard to maintain its charm." Donovan was now addressing the crowd at large, fishing for anyone to strike out at him. "Vibrant forests filled with flora and fauna, lush fields of grain harvested by the bushel, waterways practically boiling over with fish . . . right? Aren't you so proud of it? This home of yours? No?"
Donovan feigned ignorance to their predicament, provoking them to act in a blatant bout of sarcasm, but nothing came. Many were red in the face, shaking in their seats while their tails writhed around behind them., however these individuals weren't stupid, and they certainly weren't amateurs in the realm of verbal combat. To try and counter Donovan here would only provide him the opportunity to strike back harder . . . if only they knew he had nothing prepared.
"I'll ask you again, what do you take pride in?" Now comfortable he had led the argument somewhere he could handle, Donovan offered them a turn to speak. It would take a moment for someone to accept his offer though.
"We are proud to be alive, and that is enough." Surprisingly, or perhaps not considering his attitude and experience, Lasse was the one to offer resistance.
In all honesty, this was not the angle he anticipated someone responding from. Donovan expected suppressed anger or indignation, not something so calm and reserved. A wrench in the argument he projected, nothing he couldn't adapt to. If anything, having his opponent start on such a passive footing made his job easier.
"So you pat yourself on the back for the bare minimum . . . disappointing." He wanted to say 'disgusting', but that would be a bridge too far.
"I would not say survival is the bare minimum, sir."
"Oh? It isn't? Tell me, what is the bare minimum? Is it dying? Slowly? Suffering as you watch everything you worked so hard to maintain crumble into dust around you. Is it resigning yourself to death despite having tried nothing to save yourself? Because I'll be honest with you guys, you haven't achieved the bare minimum. At least not on your own."
Donovan thought the implication was clear - if it wasn't for him they would not have accomplished 'survival'.
". . . if that is what you think, then perhaps you may never understand the pride we speak of."
Unexpectedly, Lasse's response pissed Donovan off. He didn't know if it was because it amounted to a refusal to engage with the argument, or because he suggested Donovan couldn't comprehend something he very clearly could, but he had this indescribably primal urge to sock the elder in the jaw. Restraining himself was easy, a life in the military had long since accustomed him to suppressing the desire to assault those older and in higher ranks than himself, but it derailed his train of thought. Recomposing himself internally took a few seconds, though he was now left with an unclear vector of attack. In a moment of pure instinct, he decided to surrender his mouth to his thoughts.
"Ten years, two people."
"Pardon?"
"All we accomplished in a period of ten years was two people, Diana and I. From the moment someone was warned that our planet and star would be destroyed to the instant that warning became reality, our people had ten years. That's half of my life time, and about an eighth of yours. I am not proud of that. If anything, I'm ashamed of it. We had ten years to come up with a solution, and the best we could do was two fucking people? That's it? Just two? Just enough to continue the species?
That is the bare minimum, Lasse, and it is embarrassing to think about. In fact I have to stop myself from pondering the decisions made by my forebears sometimes, otherwise I get irritated.
If we went with less armor we could have had five or six more people. If we took fewer weapons there could have been space for another ten or so. Cutting down on the structural and construction costs could have allowed for several vessels, increasing the chances more would survive. Making the knowledge of the impending doom public could have justified further investments into the project as well. All of these decisions could have meant more people, but they decided against them.
I respect their decisions - I understand why they made them - I would have done the same in their position - but I don't like them.
Isn't it selfish? To demean the efforts of those who sacrificed themselves to ensure my survival for not doing enough? For not having the guts to take risks I know with hindsight weren't risks at all?
Aren't I such a bad person? For wanting more than the bare minimum? For being ashamed of the bare minimum? For detesting those who are proud of the bare minimum?
We had ten years. Did we have help? Insofar as providing us the bare minimum necessary to facilitate survival, sure. Unlike you, our crisis wasn't one we could solve on our own. Not only did we need someone to take us away from the danger, and to provide us with the information to make it to them, we needed someone to tell us we were in danger in the first place. Other than that, we were on our own. We designed, developed, built, tested, and deployed our own Arc with our own efforts - only being provided that which we never would have figured out anyway!"
Donovan threw out his arms and turned around, making his way towards the throne whilst ignoring a concerned stare from Diana. He stopped a step away from it before turning on a heel and taking a seat. The move was blatantly hostile, however his position as both the prospective husband of their queen and the recognized superior of said queen gave him the right to do so. He leant forward knowing this, elbows on his thighs to further emphasize his aggressive approach.
"I suppose that's the difference between us, though. Our peoples, I mean. In a decade we accomplished more than you have in what I assume are millennia. Not much more, mind you, but two is more than nothing. You did nothing but waste time hoping for an opportunity, avoiding risks wherever possible while extinction marched closer."
"Have we not been vindicated by receiving your help?" Donovan's eyes snapped to the younger individual.
"If someone painted a target on their chest and danced in front of a regiment of archers to collect a few arrows, would you consider him vindicated if he came back unharmed? Or would you call him an idiot for not just fletching them in camp? Because as far as I'm concerned, you were so scared to waste time on a low risk but high effort solution that you practically sacrificed Titanyana, your Queen, once you realized you didn't have a remedy anymore.
In fact she's the only Nekh I know who's ever risked something, actually risked something. The rest of you milled around here on Nekh, making yourself feel good with this empty 'pride' while she put her life and reputation on the line begging a needle to poke her as she sorted through a haystack. Honestly, what did you expect of her? What leverage did you provide to negotiate with?
You wanted autonomy so 'manpower' was out of the question, especially when your worth as such in the eyes of others would be questionable at best. She couldn't promise a planet because, well, look around you. Her skill as a warrior isn't exactly something your society at large is responsible for, and I find it unlikely someone would offer to invest what you would need to secure her as an asset on the battlefield. All she had was her body, beauty, and wit.
And yet you sit there and get angry with her when she falls in love with the only person both willing and able to save your asses? Seriously?"
Donovan offered them the opportunity to retort, remaining silent but making eye contact with anyone who lacked the shame to avoid it.
"Make no mistake here, I do not need you. As much as I am willing to invest in you, to save you from a situation similar the one I was in, I have alternatives. Expensive alternatives, alternatives I am not keen on compromising my ethics for, but alternatives nonetheless. If you can't follow orders, if you can't pull your weight, I'll pull out of this evacuation, and all that 'pride' will die with you. Just as it would have if Titanyana and I had not met.
So from here on out I expect all of you, from the loftiest grandmaster to the lowliest laborer, to get your shit together. There will be no more talk of upholstery, of color schemes, of anything not related to the ongoing evacuation efforts. Everyone, regardless of role in the current paradigm, will shift focus to cramming as many of you as possible on the Trawlers. If a project isn't going to help us by the time you are dead or gone, abandon it. If your skill set doesn't help with anything that needs doing, pick up a new one. And if you feel that your continued existence presents a burden on the population at large rather than a boon, that you will not live long enough to take a spot on those ships, that the food you eat would better sustain another, I solemnly ask you take your own life.
I will not order you to do so - it is the nature of living things to struggle for survival - but the inaction of ages prior has come to charge its hefty toll. With my interference it will not be the end of your people, but I can't save everyone. I will try, that much I promise, spending every mote of effort I am able to transport even one more soul to Nectar, but there is only so much that can be done.
Only so much I can do.
Dismissed."