“The girl who bit me was one of the half that turned. She had no idea what she was doing. All a fledgling can truly process is hunger—and they do not choose to become vampires. Especially not in the case of a random Mantling like that and its victims.”
He shook his head.
“Many fledglings are at best innocent and at worst criminally insane,” he concluded. “In the absence of Standing Order Twenty-one, there would be no grounds for finding them criminally liable for their actions.”
“Fledglings are actively dangerous to those around them,” Stall objected. “A newly Turned fledgling will feed and kill until stopped. They are hardly innocent!”
“They have no concept of their actions, no control over their mental state,” David pointed out. “The definition, roughly, of criminally insane.
“It has often been necessary for ONSET and Omicron officers to shoot and kill vampire fledglings in self-defense or the defense of others. There is certainly no argument that we are functionally at war with the Vampire Familias, and the deaths in combat of Familias foot soldiers are hardly to be regretted, but…”
He shook his head.
“Standing Order Twenty-one makes a virtue of an unfortunate necessity,” he told them. “The vampires may prove an insoluble problem, and the fledglings a hideous wrinkle to that problem, but if we embrace genocide as the only solution, just what have we become?
“And if we were to commit the genocide we have made an explicit goal, would any of us be able to look at ourselves in the mirror?”
The answering silence was split after a moment by gentle applause, and everyone in the room looked to Commander Falco, who was softly clapping.
“I think you’ve made your point, Commander White,” he told David in an Italian accent. “And you can stop twisting the knife. I suggest we send the good Commander out while we debate. We have enough for our decision, don’t you think, Commanders?”
DAVID WAITED in the attached room for just over an hour, deprived of any updates or contact with the outside world. It wasn’t a comfortable wait, the time passing slowly as he waited to find out if his words were going to have any impact or if his actions were going to see him demoted or relieved.
Finally, the door swung open and Frost stuck his head in.
“We’re ready for you, Commander White. Please, join us.”
The other Commanders waited behind the table as Frost guided David back into the room and into his seat facing them. The old Mage was shielding his emotions still, and the table continued to shield the auras of the Commanders behind it, but some of the tension seemed to be lacking now.
Stall leaned forward, clearly still the elected spokeswoman of the group.
“Firstly, Commander White, I must make clear that any judgment on the constitutionality or ethicality of Standing Order Twenty-one is entirely outside the purview of this board,” she told him. “We find ourselves in agreement with you that these events highlight issues with the Standing Order that will need to be considered, but this board of inquiry is not the place for them.
“Do you understand, Commander White?”
“Yes, Commander Stall.”
“Good.” She leaned back in her chair, a small smile playing across her lips.
“It is the unanimous judgment of this board of inquiry that, considering the existence of and weight given to Standing Order Twenty-one, that your actions were outside your normal authority as an ONSET team commander.”
David swallowed. That wasn’t an auspicious start.
“However, this board also concludes that the circumstances were unusual and a rapid decision was required,” Stall continued. “Under those conditions, we feel a broad latitude must be given to the officer on the scene.”
There was probably some degree of conflict of interest in ONSET Commanders deciding how much latitude ONSET Commanders deserved to get, but David wasn’t complaining today. Not yet, anyway.
“On consideration of those circumstances, the unknown threat level of the Arbiter himself, the fact that it appears his compromise was legitimate and the lack of threat represented by the fledglings in question, this board rules that your actions, while somewhat questionable, were justified and acceptable.
“We recommend no censure or discipline, but we will require that a copy of this judgment and a record of this board of inquiry be included in your permanent file, Commander White. While your actions appear justified today, it is possible that future events may change the light in which these events are viewed, and the decision of this board of inquiry does not disqualify these actions or evidence from being included in future charges, boards or other prosecutions.
“Do you understand this board of inquiry’s ruling, Commander White?”
“Yes,” David said crisply. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Stall told him. “You’ve given us all a great deal to think about, and I think it is to be benefit of us all—and of Omicron itself—that this board was held and these questions asked.
“For today, we are done, and you are free to go. This board of inquiry is over.”
19
Somehow, David wasn’t surprised to find all three members of his team waiting for him when he returned to ONSET Thirteen’s residence. Stone, Hellet and McCreery were sprawled around the couches of the little apartment building’s central lounge.
“Aren’t you three supposed to be on vacation somewhere?” he told them.
“We got recalled to hear the results of your board, boss,” Stone replied. “So, are you still the boss, boss?”
“Still the boss,” David said. “The board might not have necessarily agreed with what I did or why, but they understood enough to sign off on it. If nothing else, it’s a stretch to ask four ONSET team commanders to undermine the authority of the ONSET Commander on the ground!”
“It was the right call, too,” Hellet said. “I don’t think we’d have survived fighting him. It was going to be an ugly scene either way.”
“It was already an ugly scene,” David pointed out. “A lot of dead vampires and some serious questions as to what was going to happen next.
“Now, that mess is over, and we have a job to do. I don’t know what our next tasking is going to be, but I can tell you this: if they’re not sending us into the field by tomorrow, I’m sending us right back to the training gyms. We have work to do.”
“What, no celebration at all of getting to keep your job?” Stone asked.
“Plus, I heard something about a big casino win?” McCreery added. “Rumor travels fast around this place.”
“That part’s complicated,” David explained. “I’m not allowed to gamble, remember? There was a reason, but I still don’t know if I get to keep the leftovers.”
Hellet chuckled.
“Good luck with that, sir,” she told him. “Don’t mind me if I’m unsympathetic.”
“I live in government-provided housing. What use do I have for money?” David replied.
“You, boss, are a fundamentally odd man,” Stone said. “I’ll take it if you don’t want it!”
“I’m not going that far. Like I said, people, we’re going to have to work to do. Command has had us grounded for over a week—we might get tomorrow, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Make sure your gear is clean and prepped.”
“Yes, sir!”
1#
RETURNING TO HIS QUARTERS, David opened the safe and withdrew his own combat webbing, including Memoria’s scabbard. He’d checked on the sword when he’d returned to the Campus, but there was no purpose to carrying it around there. If something made it through the defenses surrounding him right then, even the demon-forged blade wasn’t going to make much of a difference.
If he was going out into the field, however, that was a different matter entirely. He carefully drew the red-tinged blade from its extradimensional scabbard, laying blade and sheath next to each other on his table as he went through the rest of his gear.
By the time he�
�d made it through the contents of his safe, he had a collection of dismantled parts that made up his M4-Omicron carbine, his Omicron Silver caseless automatic, and the full set of his augmented-reality wargear.
With practiced hands, he began rapidly cleaning and reassembling the gear. The pistol came together first, electrical ignition and solid-state parts having created a weapon with surprisingly few moving parts.
Then the combat webbing. Slabs of computer circuitry went into custom-made pockets, followed by plates of enchanted ceramic armor. Physical leads ran through channels intended for them and connected the pieces of technology to each other, and then he hung the armor back up.
The carbine followed as he carefully cleaned and assembled each part. Between the sword and his own speed, any firearm was secondary—but he still didn’t want them to fail on him.
Finally, he turned to the sword itself. He carefully cleaned the hilt and blade—the soul-forged steel didn’t required sharpening—and checked the spell on the extra-dimensional scabbard. He couldn’t refresh or replace the spell, but he could tell if it had any problems.
He wasn’t surprised that it didn’t, and slowly sheathed Memoria, clipping the scabbard and its protruding hilt onto the hanging combat webbing before dropping onto his bed and studying the array of gear.
When every encounter with a vampire had involved them coming to kill him, Standing Order Twenty-one and its blanket instruction to terminate all vampires on sight had made perfect sense. Now, however, he’d met two senior vampires and spoken with them—and had a chance to see the new-turned fledglings the way he suspected the Arbiter did: as helpless, dangerous, children.
Caleb Dresden had been calm, charming, charismatic…and arguably evil. Even the intelligence he had provided, intelligence that had allowed David to ferret out treason in the ranks of the Elfin, had only helped him.
The Arbiter had been…something else. The sole concern of that ancient vampire had been that the fledglings not be caught up in the war the Familias fought. The protection of people who, at least by his standards, were innocents.
That was a concern that David understood, a cause he couldn’t begrudge anyone.
Not even a vampire.
DAVID WAS SITTING at his kitchen table, drinking one of the beers from his fridge and watching the sun set over the Rocky Mountains, when the knock came on his door. There were only a handful of people likely to show up at his door in the evening.
“It’s unlocked,” he declared.
The door swung open and two of the short list of people likely to be outside his door wandered in. Kate Mason came first, in uniform for once, accompanied by the immense bulk of Michael O’Brien, the commander of ONSET Nine and the man who’d once commanded both David and Mason.
“Have a seat,” David told them. “Want a beer?”
“Sure,” O’Brien rumbled. “I can get them myself. Want one, Kate?”
“Sure.”
Mason pulled up a chair and waited for the big werewolf to return to the table, popping the tops off the bottle and passing one over to the Mage.
“How are you doing, David?” O’Brien asked. “Boards are never fun.”
“Came out about as well as I could hope,” David replied. “I was honestly expecting some sort of censure, though I’ll admit I was figuring it would be token.”
“It was your call to make,” the werewolf said gruffly. “Can’t say most of our Commanders would have made it, but it was your call to make.”
“Would you have?” David asked his old commander.
“I don’t know,” O’Brien admitted. “It’s easy to fall into the kind of trap that gave us Order Twenty-one. I haven’t met many vampires who wanted to sit down and have a chat—but that could just as easily be because I’ve left enough dead vampires behind me to fill a couple of graveyards.”
“We all have,” Mason added. “Even OSPI has always gone for a shoot first, don’t really bother to ask questions attitude on the vampires.”
“And that’s why we don’t truly understand the Familias,” David told them. “An entire, massive aspect of their culture—where their next generation comes from! —slipped completely under our radar. We didn’t even know there was such a thing as the Keepers.”
“And without knowing about them, we may have dramatically misunderstood our enemy,” O’Brien agreed. “I already gave Warner my recommendation as to what to do with them.”
“Do I want to know?” David asked.
The werewolf laughed.
“Given that my recommendation was ‘Give David a giant stick and tell him to go negotiate’, I suspect you were going to hear about it either way,” he said. “We have to go to this Mountain, now we have the data we have to act on it.
“But we don’t have to go in boots first and shooting,” he continued. “We need to bring a big stick, enough to make the vampires stop, but I’m willing to admit that if there’s anywhere we should stop and talk to the fanged fuckers, it’s there.”
“If the Keepers truly avoid human blood, have they even done anything worth taking them out for?” Mason asked. “Technically, they aren’t even guilty of a crime.”
“Except Standing Order Twenty-one,” David told her. “And, well, we are at war with the Familias, and the Mountain represents leverage we can’t give up. But I think Michael’s right. We have to talk to the Keepers and the Arbiter—but we have to do it from a position of strength.”
“There’s no ‘we’ here, Commander White,” O’Brien said, his voice suddenly level. “It has to be you. You killed Marcus Dresden—but you spoke to Caleb Dresden peacefully. The Romanov Sisters died by your hand—but you let forty Romanov fledglings live.
“Even more than any of the rest of us, you have dealt death to their leaders while offering life and mercy to those who cooperated. Even more important, you have spoken to this Arbiter.
“No, David White, it’ll be another multi-team strike—and it has to be under your command.”
O’Brien shrugged and saluted with his beer.
“That, at least, is what I told Warner. She seemed convinced, but I don’t know if the Colonel will agree.”
“Is he really going to argue with the man who could have his job in, what, three phone calls?” David asked.
The old werewolf chuckled and shook his head. Once, Brigadier Michael O’Brien had commanded the OSPI High Threat Response teams. Commander of just one ONSET team, the HTR team’s successors, was his “quiet retirement.”
“I don’t want Ardent’s job and he knows it. He’s far better qualified to talk to politicians than I am.”
“If we talk to the vampires,” David pointed out, “we’re going to have to take the results back to the Committee. Only they can lift Standing Order Twenty-one, after all, let alone do anything else!”
“And that, Commander White, is part of why I volunteered you for the command!”
The werewolf chugged his beer and glanced at the two younger Commanders at the table, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
“Now, however, that I have oh-so-accidentally provided an excuse for Kate to be in your apartment, I’m going to sneak out,” he told them. “I suggest Kate avoids being seen leaving too, but it’ll be easier once it’s actually dark.”
Both of them gaped at O’Brien and his grin widened.
“I remind both of you that I am a lot older than anyone else here—and I didn’t get that way by being blind!
“Have a good night, Commanders.”
20
The number of silver oak leaf lapel pins lurking outside the briefing room the next morning was a surprise to David. Despite the alliance between Omicron and the Elfin—officially, the deputization of their Elfin Warrior paramilitaries as US law enforcement agents—few members of the Tolkien-obsessed supernatural social club were ever allowed on the Campus.
“David! Get over here,” a familiar voice barked, and the pieces fell into place.
Elfin Lord Jamie Riley, the Lord Ge
neral of the Elfin Warriors and arguably one of the two or three most powerful people in the somewhat disorganized Elfin leadership, was a slim older man with short-cropped black hair.
He also had standing authorization to be on the Campus.
“What’s going on, Lord Riley?” David asked as he approached the Elfin Lord, nodding to several of the Elfin he knew, including Klein, who stood just behind his commander.
“David, by now you can call me Jamie,” Riley told him crossly. “If nothing else, I’m the reason you still have a damn arm, aren’t I?”
“Fair enough…Jamie,” the ONSET Commander allowed, carefully ignoring the visible wince from Riley’s bodyguard. “My question still stands.”
“Ardent called me in,” the Elfin answered. “He wanted us to validate what we could of what appears to be the intelligence windfall of the century—a windfall I understand we have you to thank for.”
“And Majestic,” David demurred. “She put us in contact with the Tahoe Oracle, which was a…different experience.”
Riley shivered.
“I’ve met its projections once,” he said quietly. “The price is always worth it, but damn if talking to a construct with a personality all its own doesn’t throw me off. Mordo onna, mal saira.”
David shook his head.
“I don’t speak Quenya,” he reminded the Elfin Lord.
“The Oracle is strange but wise,” Riley translated. “There’s much in that data dump I can’t confirm, David. Ancient history, far beyond the reach of my network. But…”
“But?”
“The Mountain exists,” he said flatly. “We know that. We know it has a guardian of immense power, which matches the Arbiter’s description. I think we’ve validated enough of the Oracle’s information, and the Oracle is a reliable-enough source in my experience, for you to launch an operation.”
ONSET: Blood of the Innocent Page 14