It spread like wildfire, stripping each and every nutrient from the soil, choking shallow-rooted plants and rotting trees from the inside out until they could no longer cry out for their god. Kuja crouched, a hand on the ground to brace himself as he sought out the source of the rainforest’s pain. Its attacker had been born over a century ago and, if left unchecked, would take over every micrometre of Saren, a small but inhabited moon.
The virus was a natural, living thing and part of Kuja’s domain. It even greeted him warmly, like an old friend. But within months it would invade the moon’s only town, where buildings had only stood for two decades. The virus would not negotiate with something as temporary as a breeze fluttering its way through the leaves.
Kuja stood and walked over to the tree line to have another look at the town. It was nestled in a tiny valley, on fertile farming land that was not native to Saren. The settlers had barely been able to afford the small terraforming job that had granted them this sanctuary. If they’d had any coin-chips left, they could have charted a vessel to take them elsewhere or even rehired TerraCorp to eradicate the virus from the moon’s surface. But they didn’t. And couldn’t.
While Kuja could halt the virus with his powers, a moment’s distraction on his part would allow it to grow again. The energy he’d need to devote to this fight might very well result in him being unable to save lives elsewhere, lives that might be in more immediate danger.
Kuja held out a hand, teleporting a communicator at random into his palm — he would have to return the device to its owner when he was done with it — and typed in Gerns’ details. Though the Jezlo had spoken to Bagara once already, he knew she was far more comfortable with speaking to a human.
‘Gerns,’ he said. ‘Bagara needs your help.’
‘Now me, I just got rudely woken up, but I’ll hear you out, Kuja,’ the botanist grumbled on the other end and Kuja grimaced, remembering that it was night-time in Bagath. He had left the village weeks ago with an excuse about needing to see the galaxy. Truthfully, there were too many memories of Fei inside those palisade walls.
‘Sorry,’ Kuja said. ‘But I was visiting Saren, a moon orbiting the gas planet in the Junim system, when Bagara came to me. He said you wanted to help and this is how.’
‘What does he need me to do?’ There was a crash; Gerns had knocked something over on her way out of bed.
‘We have to find a way to stop a rainforest-based virus that will destroy the only piece of arable land on Saren.’ Kuja paused for effect. ‘And I think you’re the only one both qualified and willing to do something about it.’
Gerns grunted, her tiredness causing her to think unsavoury things about him. ‘Huh. How about that. Bagara using science. Gimme three days, tops. I’ll meet you at the spaceport — or landing pad, whatever they’ve got. Saren…now me, I think TerraCorp did a job there once. Doesn’t GLEA have some sort of presence on the moon?’
‘There’s a small Chipper outpost. Saren was never deemed populated enough for a temple.’
‘You should talk to the agents,’ Gerns suggested. ‘See if they’ll evacuate the locals.’
Kuja ground his teeth together. ‘They’d love to move people away from Bagara’s domain, wouldn’t they.’
‘Now Kuja, I say this to you, you should ask the settlers what they want. It’s their choice.’
I know that, Kuja wanted to snap. But then he thought of Fei — and the choice he never gave her. The choice he couldn’t give her.
‘Just get here as fast as you can,’ Kuja told Gerns before he cut the connection.
• • •
‘You could be lying about this catastrophic virus in an attempt to force GLEA off Saren,’ Major Laura Minsra said, eyes narrowed. ‘Why should I believe you? You’re one of those Bagara degenerates.’
The GLEA outpost on Saren stood out amongst the cluster of silver shelters that made up most of the town. It was a stone building with a white exterior that needed to be scrubbed clean every morning — and it was also a lot larger than it needed to be to house the three Chippers stationed on the moon.
Kuja sized up the woman seated across the desk from him. Major Minsra wore a crisp purple jumpsuit with its long sleeves pulled down as far as possible; she clearly relied on the climate control system in her office to keep cool. The other buildings in the settlement had no such luxury, but Kuja could see in her mind that the major didn’t know that. She rarely left her stone sanctuary to converse with the townspeople she was meant to be protecting.
He kept his voice calm and free of judgement. ‘Unlike followers of the Creator God, we don’t feel threatened by people of different faiths. And if my honesty really is a concern to you, I have an accredited botanist arriving in three days to inspect the virus.’
‘Very well.’ Minsra dusted her fingers over the golden strokes on both shoulders of her uniform. ‘But what if this botanist of yours can’t stop the virus entering the town?’
‘I am painfully aware that the settlers cannot afford to put any more money into your coffers by paying for another terraforming job.’ Kuja held up a hand to stop her denying it. ‘I know where you get your funding.’
‘Clearly not from this lot — they don’t even donate,’ Minsra said, blowing out a gusty sigh. ‘And they’re not the only ones. The whole galaxy’s full of people like them. TerraCorp’s profits are a lot more reliable than their sporadic donations.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d be willing to say that again and let me record it so the mediaists can use it against you,’ Kuja said, fiddling with a thread that had escaped the hem of his shirt.
Minsra’s expression soured. ‘You will treat me with respect. I am a representative of the Creator God — the first god, the only god — and I’m much closer to him than you will ever be.’
Kuja swallowed the laugh and didn’t correct her. ‘Whatever god you or the Sarenites want to worship, that’s not up to me. But Bagara doesn’t want anyone to suffer.’
‘Then he should stop the virus, shouldn’t he,’ Minsra remarked, smirking.
‘Bagara won’t just stop natural disasters.’ Kuja shut his eyes briefly. ‘Not in the way you’re suggesting.’
‘Even if it’s to save his worshippers?’
‘If the best thing for his people is to beg GLEA to evacuate them, then Bagara will tell them to do it,’ Kuja told her.
‘You want me to believe that Bagara will just…let them go?’ Minsra leaned forward, holding his gaze. ‘Would he do that, knowing they might worship in one of our temples instead?’
‘Yes. Because he knows your duty is to protect all mortal children of the Creator God. His people will be cared for.’ Kuja smiled grimly. ‘Of course, if they happen to pledge themselves to your god because of what you’ve done for them, then that’s a bonus.’
‘A bonus,’ Minsra echoed.
‘They don’t owe you anything.’
Minsra dropped back into her chair, chortling. ‘They should at least make it worth our while.’
‘Are all Chippers this mercenary or is it just you?’
‘Look, Coo-coo, or whatever your name is — ’ Minsra pointed at her temple, where her skin was stretched over the chip that was the source of her energy-based abilities ‘ — the Creator God gives us these powers and we pay him back by serving him. It’s a transaction. That’s how it works. If the people here want us to save them, they’ll have to give us something in return.’
Kuja raised his eyebrows. ‘So if they don’t have the coin-chips then their faith will do.’
‘We understand each other.’
‘Many of them still worship the Creator God,’ he pointed out.
Minsra shook her head. ‘Not enough. We lost a whole pack of ’em six Old Earth weeks ago when that fancy statue belonging to the Bagara degenerates started going on about casualties.’
‘So.’ Kuja clenched his fists in his lap. ‘You will only relocate them if they’re all worshippers of the Creator God. How charitable of you.’
Minsra said nothing.
‘Come outside and tell them this,’ Kuja said, standing.
‘Why?’ she asked, warily eyeing the door.
Despite the anxiety rolling off her, Kuja could not bring himself to feel sorry for the major. ‘Well, if they hear it from me, they might not believe it. They might think I’m twisting your words. And I’d much rather you disappoint them in person.’
‘What if they decide to convert to save themselves?’ she demanded.
Kuja spread his hands to better display his shrug. ‘Then they will be safe and that is all Bagara cares about.’
Minsra’s mind was full of suspicion, but she still sent out the two agents under her command to announce that she had something to tell the Sarenites. When enough townspeople were gathered in front of the outpost, Major Minsra gave her speech, one full of jerky hand movements that often singled out the sky. She shot a triumphant grin at Kuja when she was done.
Keeping his hands locked behind him, Kuja raised his voice above hers. ‘Bagara has spoken to me, the way he has spoken to many of you recently. He wants you to be safe and will not begrudge any of you for choosing to worship another god if it means ensuring your survival. He is sending a botanist here to work on the problem in the meantime.’
Kuja felt a surge of anger emanate from the Sarenites moments before their muttering swelled into an uproar. Minsra took a large step back, towards the outpost, her eyes wide. One of the closest townspeople, a woman, pointed at the major. ‘You worship the Creator God, like me. Is this what he tells you to do to your fellow beings? I guess I wouldn’t know — I haven’t heard anything from him. But all my neighbours hear from Bagara and he never says anything like this!’
Major Laura Minsra fled.
Kuja watched her disappear into the outpost, then turned his eyes back to the crowd. ‘You may have just given away your only chance of being rescued.’
‘Pah,’ said the woman from before, shaking her head. ‘The Creator God isn’t the only god out there who can help us. Sounds like Bagara’s already trying to do something about this mess anyway. When does his botanist arrive?’
‘Three days,’ Kuja answered.
‘Then we’d better get things ready for them.’