And to much oohing from the crowd, Kronski drew forth Holly’s Neutrino handgun from his pocket.
“Do any of us wish to face a future where this could be pointed in our faces? Do we? The answer, I think, is clearly no. Now, I’m not going to pretend that this is the last one of its kind. I feel certain that there are thousands of these fairies, or aliens, or whatever, all around us. But does that mean we should grovel and release this little creature? I say no. I say we send a message. Execute one, and the rest will know we mean business. The governments of the world despise us now, but tomorrow they will come banging down our door for guidance.”
Time for the big finish. “We are Extinctionists, and our time is now!”
It was a good speech and drew wave after wave of applause, which Pasteur rode out with the same bemused expression.
Kronski accepted the applause with a boxer’s rolling of the shoulders, then nodded toward the opposite podium.
“The floor is yours, boy.”
Pasteur straightened and cleared his throat . . .
. . . Artemis straightened and cleared his throat. The fake beard glued to his chin itched like crazy, but he resisted the impulse to scratch it. In a fair arena he would destroy Kronski’s arguments in about five seconds, but this was not a fair arena, or even a sane one. These people were bloodthirsty, jaded billionaires, using their money to buy illicit excitement. Murder was just another service that could be purchased. He needed to handle this crowd carefully. Push the right buttons. First of all he had to establish himself as one of them.
“When I was young, and the family wintered in South Africa, my grandfather would tell me stories of a time when people had the right attitude toward animals. ‘We kill ’em when it suits us,’ he said to me. ‘When it serves our purposes.’ This is what the Extinctionists used to be about. A species was not protected unless we humans benefited from its survival. We kill when it benefits us. If an animal is using the planet’s resources and not directly contributing to our health, safety, and comfort, we wipe it out. Simple as that. This was an ideal worth fighting for. Worth killing for. But this . . .” Artemis pointed at the pit below him and Holly in her cage. “This is a circus. This is an insult to the memory of our ancestors who gave their time and gold to the Extinctionists’ cause.”
Artemis worked hard on his eye contact, connecting with as many people as possible in the audience, lingering for a moment with each one.
“We have an opportunity to learn from this creature. We owe it to our predecessors to find out if she can contribute to our coffers. If this is, in reality, a fairy, then who knows what magic it possesses? Magic that could be yours. If we kill this fairy, we will never know what unimaginable wealth dies with it.”
Artemis bowed. He had made his point. It would not be enough to sway the bloodthirsty Extinctionists, he knew, but it might be enough to make Kronski feel a little less cocky.
The doctor was waving his hands before the echo of Artemis’s voice had faded.
“How many times must we listen to this argument?” he wondered. “Master Pasteur accuses me of repeating myself, while he repeats the tired argument of every defense counsel we have ever listened to.” Kronski tapped his lips in horror. “Ooh, let us not kill the creature, for it is potentially the source of all our power and wealth. I remember spending a fortune on a sea slug that was supposed to cure arthritis. All we got was very expensive goo. This is all supposition.”
“But this creature is magical,” objected Artemis, banging the podium with his fist. “We have all heard how she can turn invisible. Even now her mouth is taped so she cannot hypnotize us. Imagine the power we could wield if we were to unlock the secrets of these gifts. If nothing else, they would better prepare us to deal with the rest of her kind.”
Kronski’s main problem was that he agreed with much of his opposition’s argument. It made perfect sense to save the creature and tease her secrets from her, but he could not afford to lose this argument. If he did, he might as well hand over the leadership.
“We have tried to interrogate her. Our best men tried, and she told us nothing.”
“It is difficult to talk with a taped mouth,” Artemis noted drily.
Kronski drew himself to his full height, lowering the timbre of his voice for effect. “The human race faces its most deadly enemy, and you want to cozy up to it. That is not how we Extinctionists do things. If there is a threat, we wipe it out. That is how it has always been.”
This brought a roar of approval from the crowd; bloodlust trumps logic every time. Several members were on their feet, hollering. They’d had enough of the argument and wanted some action.
Kronski’s face was flushed with victory.