TITLE: 99 Red Balloons
AUTHOR: Cyn(di)
EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com
RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering
CATEGORY: drama, angst
SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. (Based on the song.)
SPOILERS: none
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'd much rather do this than my precalculus homework, but at
least I get reviews-sorry, grades-on my homework. I can always go back to
the math, if you'd prefer. (Hint, hint.)
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Pakla hurried frantically from one house to the next, stopping at each one to inform her fellow villagers of the current crisis. Many of them panicked, and she found herself saying only too often, "There is nothing to fear. Weapons-master Slarin has ensured that we are more than prepared to deal with this attack. With luck, we will be able to prevent it before it even begins." Many other people left their homes to spread the news, and Pakla was grateful that her work had been thus lessened.
Nearly everyone who heard this accepted it without question. Pakla's friend Arren, however, who had always been slower-acting and more thoughtful than most, did not. "What do you mean?" he asked her. "How can you prevent it?"
Pakla sighed. She had hoped not to have to elaborate this far, but she should have known better than to try to fool Arren. "We will not even try to speak to them," she said finally. "We have our own weapons, and Slarin is preparing to fire them even as we speak. I must go back and help him." She turned to leave, trying to escape the questioning, but he grabbed her arm.
"So you will simply destroy the Others."
"Yes," Pakla admitted, trying to pull free of Arren's determined grip. "It is the only way to save ourselves."
He cocked his head. "How do you know that? Have we even tried to speak to them, or them to us? You cannot be sure even that they truly plan to attack at all."
She finally freed her arm. "I saw those machines in the air, Arren. They were the color of blood. How can they not have been a threat or, at the very least, a bad omen?"
"A bad omen!" he scoffed. "You talk like an ancient. There are no such things as omens. They may have been a threat, true. But what good would it do them?"
"We cannot afford to take the chance."
Arren frowned. "So you will simply destroy an entire village, much like our own, simply because they may or may not be going to attack us."
"They are not like ourselves," Pakla argued. "They are heretics and rebels. They defied the goddess and forced her to leave. Perhaps if we destroy them, she will be pleased and return."
"You know well that, like them, I do not believe that Morrigan was a goddess, and that I would rather she did not return." He spread his hands. "Do you believe that I should die as well?"
She shook her head in confusion. "No, of course not."
"And why not? What difference is there between them and me?"
"You," Pakla reminded him, "are not our enemy."
"By your definition, it would seem that I am." He took her by the shoulders, more gently this time. "I worry about you, Pakla. You must be careful of listening to Slarin; he takes his job too seriously, and he may get us all into trouble. Be careful."
"I will," she promised, and hugged him. "I must return to work with him now, though. Goodbye."
-----
On her way back to rejoin Slarin, Pakla noticed two men enter the village. They were dressed strangely, carrying all sorts of strange devices, even some over their eyes that might be to protect from the sun-quite ingenious, come to think of it. The other villagers hurrying through the streets seemed to ignore them, except for one small boy. They had stopped him in his path, and one of the men was asking him questions. The boy didn't seem to be frightened, so Pakla guessed the two strangers were probably friendly. Perhaps she might speak to them herself.
Once the boy had gone on his way, though, doubt struck her. Small children were so trusting, after all. Perhaps the Others had sent actual human spies. She decided to approach them anyway, but to be especially careful. With luck, the child hadn't told them anything dangerous.
Pakla finally got to the men, who were now conversing animatedly with each other, after a few difficult minutes of pushing through a rapidly growing throng in the street. (She hoped there wouldn't be a panic; it would make things so much more difficult.) The best thing, she resolved, would just be to ask them directly who they were.
Pakla tapped one of the men on the back. He jumped slightly, then turned to face her. "What?"
She stiffened slightly at the gruff reception, but resolutely asked, "Are you Others?"
"Yes," the man said.
"No," said his companion at the same time.
She looked from one to the other in confusion.
The second man quickly explained, "Well, if you mean people from the other village, then no. But yes, we are from another place."
Pakla relaxed. "I referred to people from the other village. But where else could you come from?"
"From another planet, actually."
"Another planet? How?"
He started to answer, but the first man hit him lightly. "We don't have time for this, Daniel. Just give her the 'take me to your leader' spiel and we'll see if we can sort this out."
"Is Daniel your name?" she asked curiously.
He nodded affirmatively. "And this is Jack. Ignore him, he'll cheer up in a second. What's your name?"
"Hey!" Jack protested.
Pakla smiled; these seemed like nice enough people. "I'm Pakla. If you want to meet our leaders, well, the Assembly is quite busy right now-you've heard that the Others may be attacking?"
"Yeah, we've heard," Jack said. "That's why we're here."
"In that case, they may be able to spare a moment for you. I will take you there."
--------------------------------------------------
Pakla hurried frantically from one house to the next, stopping at each one to inform her fellow villagers of the current crisis. Many of them panicked, and she found herself saying only too often, "There is nothing to fear. Weapons-master Slarin has ensured that we are more than prepared to deal with this attack. With luck, we will be able to prevent it before it even begins." Many other people left their homes to spread the news, and Pakla was grateful that her work had been thus lessened.
Nearly everyone who heard this accepted it without question. Pakla's friend Arren, however, who had always been slower-acting and more thoughtful than most, did not. "What do you mean?" he asked her. "How can you prevent it?"
Pakla sighed. She had hoped not to have to elaborate this far, but she should have known better than to try to fool Arren. "We will not even try to speak to them," she said finally. "We have our own weapons, and Slarin is preparing to fire them even as we speak. I must go back and help him." She turned to leave, trying to escape the questioning, but he grabbed her arm.
"So you will simply destroy the Others."
"Yes," Pakla admitted, trying to pull free of Arren's determined grip. "It is the only way to save ourselves."
He cocked his head. "How do you know that? Have we even tried to speak to them, or them to us? You cannot be sure even that they truly plan to attack at all."
She finally freed her arm. "I saw those machines in the air, Arren. They were the color of blood. How can they not have been a threat or, at the very least, a bad omen?"
"A bad omen!" he scoffed. "You talk like an ancient. There are no such things as omens. They may have been a threat, true. But what good would it do them?"
"We cannot afford to take the chance."
Arren frowned. "So you will simply destroy an entire village, much like our own, simply because they may or may not be going to attack us."
"They are not like ourselves," Pakla argued. "They are heretics and rebels. They defied the goddess and forced her to leave. Perhaps if we destroy them, she will be pleased and return."
"You know well that, like them, I do not believe that Morrigan was a goddess, and that I would rather she did not return." He spread his hands. "Do you believe that I should die as well?"
She shook her head in confusion. "No, of course not."
"And why not? What difference is there between them and me?"
"You," Pakla reminded him, "are not our enemy."
"By your definition, it would seem that I am." He took her by the shoulders, more gently this time. "I worry about you, Pakla. You must be careful of listening to Slarin; he takes his job too seriously, and he may get us all into trouble. Be careful."
"I will," she promised, and hugged him. "I must return to work with him now, though. Goodbye."
-----
On her way back to rejoin Slarin, Pakla noticed two men enter the village. They were dressed strangely, carrying all sorts of strange devices, even some over their eyes that might be to protect from the sun-quite ingenious, come to think of it. The other villagers hurrying through the streets seemed to ignore them, except for one small boy. They had stopped him in his path, and one of the men was asking him questions. The boy didn't seem to be frightened, so Pakla guessed the two strangers were probably friendly. Perhaps she might speak to them herself.
Once the boy had gone on his way, though, doubt struck her. Small children were so trusting, after all. Perhaps the Others had sent actual human spies. She decided to approach them anyway, but to be especially careful. With luck, the child hadn't told them anything dangerous.
Pakla finally got to the men, who were now conversing animatedly with each other, after a few difficult minutes of pushing through a rapidly growing throng in the street. (She hoped there wouldn't be a panic; it would make things so much more difficult.) The best thing, she resolved, would just be to ask them directly who they were.
Pakla tapped one of the men on the back. He jumped slightly, then turned to face her. "What?"
She stiffened slightly at the gruff reception, but resolutely asked, "Are you Others?"
"Yes," the man said.
"No," said his companion at the same time.
She looked from one to the other in confusion.
The second man quickly explained, "Well, if you mean people from the other village, then no. But yes, we are from another place."
Pakla relaxed. "I referred to people from the other village. But where else could you come from?"
"From another planet, actually."
"Another planet? How?"
He started to answer, but the first man hit him lightly. "We don't have time for this, Daniel. Just give her the 'take me to your leader' spiel and we'll see if we can sort this out."
"Is Daniel your name?" she asked curiously.
He nodded affirmatively. "And this is Jack. Ignore him, he'll cheer up in a second. What's your name?"
"Hey!" Jack protested.
Pakla smiled; these seemed like nice enough people. "I'm Pakla. If you want to meet our leaders, well, the Assembly is quite busy right now-you've heard that the Others may be attacking?"
"Yeah, we've heard," Jack said. "That's why we're here."
"In that case, they may be able to spare a moment for you. I will take you there."