Ruins (Pathfinder 2)

“Are you a lawyer now?” asked Param.

“I try not to be part of indiscriminate murder,” said Olivenko. “Which is pretty much what you just did. Will do.”

“Maybe warning the Visitors will prove to them that they shouldn’t get us all killed,” said Umbo. “Maybe we just saved Garden and Earth.”

“Think!” said Loaf. “We know they destroyed Garden nine times—before the half-human mice were ever created. So how can warning them about the mice stop them from doing something they repeatedly did before there were ever any mice at all?”

Why hadn’t Umbo thought of all this himself? Why had he just . . . acted? For that matter, why hadn’t Param thought of all these objections even if for no other reason than to undercut Umbo? Why, this time of all possible times, did Param actually cooperate with him?

Umbo saw the way Loaf looked at him, then glanced languidly at Param, then back at Umbo, and he knew what Loaf was really saying. You were showing off, Umbo. You were impressing the girl. You weren’t thinking with your head.

“So maybe we blew it and maybe we didn’t,” said Umbo. “Or maybe we saved the world. Let’s see how things turn out.”

“If the mice don’t kill us all as soon as they find out what you’ve done,” said Loaf.

“For all we know, the future mice are putting poison in our food right now,” said Olivenko.

“Then we’ll die,” said Umbo. “But you don’t know we were wrong any more than we know we were right. So back off!”

“What we don’t know hasn’t killed anybody,” said Loaf.

“Or saved anybody,” said Umbo. “Or accomplished anything at all.”

“There are so many mice,” said Param. “Who’ll even notice they’re gone?”

“There are so many humans,” said Loaf savagely. “So many peasants. So many of our enemy. So many of the poor. So many ugly people, so many stupid people, so many people who aren’t as good as me. Who’ll miss a few dozen or hundred or million, if my actions happen to kill them?”

Param reeled at the accusation. She looked about to cry.

She disappeared.

“Now look what you’ve done,” said Umbo.

“You foolish boy,” said Loaf. “You’re more upset over my hurting Param’s feelings than you are about the murders you just committed without any evidence that you were accomplishing anything.”

Umbo knew that Loaf was right. Excruciatingly, humiliatingly right. And it was Loaf, of all people, whose high opinion Umbo wanted. Needed to deserve.

In his anguish, Umbo cried out, “I’m just a kid!”

His words hung in the air. Nobody said anything.

Param returned to view. “I’m not running away from this,” she said.

“Well, it’s nice to see that somebody’s growing up,” said Loaf.

Param glanced at Umbo, saw the tears on his face. “We did what we thought was right,” she said. “And it was a smart plan. And Umbo thought of it, and I agreed with it, and we did it. And he loves you as much as I love my father. So why can’t you show him a little understanding. Isn’t that what fathers are supposed to do?”

“I didn’t ask to be his father,” said Loaf.

“Yes you did,” said Param. “When you came along with him and Rigg, that’s what you were doing.”

“If your father were here and knew what you did, he’d be telling you off, too,” said Loaf.

“No he wouldn’t,” said Olivenko.

“Why, because he’s so much better than me?” said Loaf angrily.

“No,” said Olivenko. “Because he’s a weak and selfish man, and he wouldn’t care.”