It was dinner, and the conversation Adelaide had been dreading had finally started.

Trish’s scream had, fortunately, scared the thing off rather than attracting it. And then everyone had scattered, trying to see where it had gone and generally making enough noise to ensure it wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. And, because Emma was one of the people most aggressively chasing the thing, they didn’t get started on dinner until everyone gave up looking. And, once they’d managed to heat up some never-spoil sausage things, they spent a few minutes before the inevitable topic arose. Adelaide had tried to savor those moments of quiet chewing, because she knew what was coming.

Emma had broken the seal, mentioning how they should make an early night so they could start their hunt before the sunrise. And then Trish had sort of looked at her and furrowed her eyebrows, and then looked at Adelaide, and now she was finally asking, “You’re not going to hunt the unicorn, are you?”

There was a pause, and Adelaide thought she actually heard people rolling their eyes. Emma looked around in the hope that someone else would jump in, and then she said, “Well, yeah, Trish. That was the plan.”

“When did we make that plan? Why on Earth would we kill it?”

“Well, you know why, Trish. It’s the same reason we got those egg-spheres and those bat things. It’s the same reason we’re out here: we get things to sell. Hunting is a big part of that, and that thing is exactly what you come out here hoping to hunt! That horn looked pretty long, and there’s normally a good market for things like that, plus whatever value we can get for the meat.”

Adelaide noticed that Alessio had started filming. She wished she could get him to stop without making herself look horrible, but no one else was paying attention to him. Instead, everyone was staring at Trish.

Trish was gradually increasing in pitch and volume. “We’re going to poach unicorns? Really? Kill a rare and amazing creature for a horn and meat? What year is this?”

Emma openly rolled her eyes before saying, “We have no idea if they are rare. They could be all over this place, as common as rats. I get environmentalism, I do, but it doesn’t apply our here. And it’s not like we are hunting them into extinction: we don’t have the time or resources for that, even if overhunting in a Sea was possible or coherent.”

Trish scoffed. “You’re really going to say a unicorn isn’t rare?”

Jim spoke gently. “They really aren’t. I mean, who knows about these creatures on this island, but in general, they aren’t. Lots of Seas have things with one horn that people call unicorns. One central horn is just a really sensible design.”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, he’s right. Frankly, it is strange that there isn’t something like that back home. We have narwhals but no unicorns — that ever seem strange to anyone else?” Nobody responded, and Ray coughed quietly. “Well, anyway, the first few times someone found unicorns, people flipped out, but after it kept happening, interest waned. They don’t do anything magical — it’s just a different kind of antelope or whatever.”

Adelaide remembered that era. When the Triangle opened, people were so conditioned to believe that they had found their way to some specific universe: nerds wanted it to be Faerun or Middle-Earth, religious people wanted it to be Eden or Elysium, and religious nerds were certain it was Narnia. And so there was a big rush of confirmatory news every time someone found something that looked like a mythical creature. Adelaide hadn’t noticed when that sort of thing trailed off, but there was no denying you heard fewer stories like that nowadays.

Trish looked back at Adelaide, but responded to Ray. “What do you even mean, not magical? This whole situation is magical! And we don’t know anything about these things. But they don’t need to be magic to be worth our respect. Even if it was just a horse, would we really hunt it?”

“I would. For sure.” Adelaide looked over at Olivia, one of Captain Mattson’s sailors. They hadn’t spoken much, but Adelaide had been sort of generally pleased to see that the crew wasn’t all men. Olivia was lean and tan, with her kept hair short. She had a tattoo on her left forearm that Adelaide hadn’t managed to get a good look at. “I’ve hunted horses plenty of times. Sometimes for us to eat, sometimes just because we’ve hoped they’d be worth something to sell.”

“So you’d kill anything? Just wander the savannah killing elephants? Cut down passenger pigeons and buffalo by the shipload?”

“Back home, of course not. But this isn’t like that. There aren’t consequences to what we do here. As soon as we pass back through the Triangle, this whole Sea will vanish! It’ll just be quantum foam, and that includes any unicorns, alive or dead.”

“You are wrong,” Jim said. He didn’t raise his voice, but everyone stopped and looked at him. “These worlds do not vanish. Our actions matter, here as anywhere.”

Trish nodded, happy to take any allies, even if it wasn’t obvious that Jim intended to support her conclusion. “Exactly. I mean, I - I thought I was getting to know you all, but apparently not. Like they say people who don’t learn history are doomed to repeat it, but isn’t this a bit on the nose? We’ve just walked into some new land and you’re all saying to ignore our moral instinct because the things here aren’t real and don’t have consequences? That it’s your manifest destiny to take anything you think you can sell for a profit? I don’t actually have to point out who you sound like, right?”

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Olivia laughed. “This is coming from you? You think I don’t recognize your last name on the manifest? You’ve grown up with more money than any of us will ever see and you want to invoke colonialism? Shit, I’m sure if we run back up your family tree we’ll find some dudes in dumb hats taking everything they could get their hands on - and harming actual people! And now, while you’re enjoying their wealth, you’re going to try to stop the rest of us from hunting something that will probably go for tens of thousands of dollars each?”

Adelaide tried to intervene. “Hey, let’s—”

Olivia kept going. “Frankly, I don’t know why this is a debate. It’s not like we were relying on Ms. Trust Fund to hunt for us, or do anything else. No one is asking for your help, so we don’t need your opinion.”

Trish actually smiled in response. “Frankly, I think it’s very telling that you’ve resorted to these sort of personal attacks. It shows that you know I’m right and you’re uncomfortable with your position. And that’s because what I’m saying is so obviously right: Killing intelligent things is wrong, even if we aren’t going to see them again.”

Adelaide tried again. “I think —”

Emma’s frustration got the better of her. “What would you know about ‘intelligence?’ There is zero reason to think that thing is any smarter than the cow that you are literally eating right now! This isn’t a storybook - it’s just an animal with a cool horn!”

Adelaide stood up and whistled, a loud high whistle she’d practiced at baseball games with her dad as a kid. Everyone looked at her, and she made them wait before she began. “First of all, I want to make something clear: we are a crew, and that means we treat each other respectfully. So no more personal attacks, and, if anyone doesn’t listen when I start talking, they can go back to the empty Strider to reflect on their manners. Ok?” Olivia scowled, but didn’t object. “What I was trying to say is that I think it’s clear what we need to do. We don’t really know anything about this thing, right?” Nobody spoke up to disagree. “Well, why don’t we fix that first?”

***

“Do you have a better idea?”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Did I give you the impression that I didn’t approve of the plan?”

“No, I wasn’t being indirect - I’m legitimately wondering if you have a better idea. Because I was trying to come up with something, but I won’t pretend I feel great about it.”

Adelaide had, essentially, just tried to delay the fight that was about to break out. She’d proposed — or ordered, but she’d phrased it as a proposal — that everyone who cared about the issue spend two days trying to learn as much as they could about these creatures, and they’d make a decision once everyone had shared everything they could. Everyone had agreed not to hunt in the meantime, which pleased Trish but which Emma seemed to see as an opportunity to prepare for the hunt she assumed was coming. So everyone had calmed down for the moment, but Adelaide worried that would only make someone madder when the decision was made.

In the meantime, she and Ray were setting off to actually find the Node. That also seemed weird, for them both to go and leave everyone else behind. But Ray had insisted that he be present if she was going to wander off into the woods. And when she’d suggested bringing Jim along as well, Ray had urged her to leave Jim behind to keep order.

So, in short, she had postponed a massive internal schism and would come back in two days (assuming she didn’t get like eaten by frogs or something) and hope that nobody had killed anybody else. Which is why she was sincerely open to a better plan, even if she had to awkwardly run back into camp to announce it.

“I don’t think there’s anything else you could do,” Ray said. “You’re giving us time to get this thing done, and you’ll have more of a reasoned basis to tell Trish that we have to hunt these things. But you know her - do you think she can see reason?”

“I hope so. If someone can come up with some evidence that they’re just fancy deer, she’ll accept it. But what I worry about is if no one really learns anything and she doesn’t see any reason to move off of her position. And I don’t know what part matters — if they aren’t intelligent but they have some trait that seems magical to her, will that do it?”

“If you need to, can you go against her? Tell her that you’re sorry she doesn’t see it that way, but we have to do this to keep going?”

Adelaide raised an eyebrow. “Worried I’ll be overcome by friendship and unwilling to make the tough call?”

“No, Professor - I was wondering if there’s a problem if the daughter of our illustrious financier becomes morally distraught.”

“Oh.” Adelaide hadn’t considered that. Mr. Winfield seemed so far away in that moment, but Trish could call him the second they got back. “It’s a good point, but I don’t think she’d do that to me. And he’s not exactly the sentimental type. Choosing profit is something he’ll understand, I assume.”

“I suppose men like him don’t tend to believe in fairy tales.”

“No.” Adelaide paused, looking at the fern-tree-things around them. They would have to pick up the pace — she felt like she could almost hear the sounds of camp behind her. “You think there’s any chance she’s right?”

“Right how? That they’re actually magical?”

“No, that I can’t imagine. Even if they can do something amazing, what would it even mean for it to be magic? Magic just means something that can’t be explained, but everything has some explanation, even if you can’t find it yet. I have to think that’s still true. But I was thinking more that they could be intelligent and harmless.”

Ray kept walking, but turned to look at her as he said, “Out here, you’re more likely to find magic than something truly harmless.”