Nighter

by Magdalena Kozak

“I'm talking about total war,” the major said, looking at his subordinates seriously. “And, unfortunately for us, completely asymmetric.”

  They nodded. Asymmetric War, the term coined by political scientists in the 1990s, when two sides clash—one of which is disproportionately stronger militarily than the other—and the weaker takes on absolutely unconventional methods, achieving maximum effect with minimal resources. One side achieves great results at a low cost, the second needs a great means to neutralize them. So, practically speaking, guerrilla warfare or terrorism...

  “What are they gonna go for first, Chief?” Alacer asked immediately, a nighter with lengthy experience. “What do we have to secure?”

  “So far, we’ve established three main targets,” the major said. “But first thing’s first. Their plan is based on dragging as many of our peaceful citizens onto their side. They want to achieve this by launching a large quantity of illegal blood and destroying as much of neutral food supply as they can. As far as their strategic goals...” He paused for a moment, then began to enumerate quickly, “First, the artificial blood storage is under threat. Second, a factory that was about to start production of the artificial blood for the Polish market could be attacked at any moment. Third, well, gentlemen...” he smiled slightly. “Us.”

  “We certainly stand in their way,” Captain Nidor said. “And I don’t think we can count on them not knowing where we’re stationed.”

  “How would they know?” Alacer blew up indignantly. “No nighter has ever betrayed us... Ever!”

  “I dare to believe that General Aranea had access to some documents,” Vesper said rather loudly. “And when choosing the other side, I don’t think she forgot her homework.”

  Everyone fell silent. They stared at him meaningfully. The young nighter flushed suddenly.

  “Oh, I haven’t mentioned that yet, have I?” the major said quietly. “Great job, Lieutenant. Way to keep your mouth shut... For a few seconds too few.”

  Vesper lowered his head and closed his eyes. Damn, he’d gotten himself in a twist.

  “I'm sorry” he choked.

  The commander nodded.

  “As you already know from some of the rumors...” he strongly emphasized the word ‘rumors’, “...there was a shift in Lord Renegade’s seat. Currently, this honor belongs to former General Aranea, whom some of you know personally, and some only from word of mouth.”

  “She dealt with intelligence, as far as I know,” said Captain Umens. “And she was great at it. However, her military talents were, how to say, ah, negligible.”

  The major nodded.

  “General Nex is her military arm,” he said in tone that revealed a fleeting bit of astonishment. “She planned this coup, and he executed it masterfully.”

  “Nex?” Alacer asked in disbelief. “But he... he is from the Viner Family! He’s just a player! How did he get into such an operation?”

  “Apparently unrecognized talent,” Clam, the third nighter captain, joined the discussion. “It happens after all, especially if some other Family gets the candidate before we do.”

  “But... a Viner?” Alacer shook his head. “Such a big change, from a playboy and rake into a renegade general? The world is ending...” he sighed heavily.

  “Don’t call The Hidden One,” Umens muttered instinctively.

  They fell silent for a moment, digesting the information in their minds.

  “Well, gentlemen,” the major returned to the briefing, “clearly we are on the front line, simply because of the geographical location and proximity to Lord Renegades’ base. They’ll try their ideas on us first, then they will grow their empire step by step. The Czechs and Slovaks will be next in line. Their nighter units have been put on alert, too. But for now, let’s take care of our own backyard.” He cleared his throat, then continued a steady, calm voice. “The situation was discussed at Capitol’s extraordinary meeting. Orders for our region are as follows. First, securing the blood storage.” He looked at Clam. “Captain, you will be personally responsible for that.”

  “Yes, sir!” He said that immediately.

  “The facility is top secret, so we won’t involve any human institutions. You'll get twenty nighters to work in shifts.”

  Clam nodded without comment.

  “And Captain Umens will take care of securing our base in Emów,” the major ordered. “Twenty in shifts as well.”

  “Yes, sir,” Umens confirmed, a smile of satisfaction crossed his face.

  “Captain Nidor,” he turned to the last of the deputies “you will take care of securing the Polfa Tarchomin plant. You'll get the other ten nighters.”

  “It will be tough,” he sighed. “That facility is like a beach in terms of security.”

  “You can count on the officers from the Anti-Terrorist Bureau,” the major said. “We are supposed to turn to them with official ISA requests for help and support.”

  Nidor shook his head doubtfully.

  “Cooperation can be problematic,” he said. “They would prefer to do it themselves for sure. The joint actions of the police and ISA are rather rare. Not to mention that working with humans will be somewhat new for us...”

  “They won’t refuse; they have no way to,” the commander said decisively. “The lords have already pulled some strings in Brussels. K4 COREPER, Europol, even the Police Cooperation Working Group, and they’ll pin our Police Headquarters, if necessary. Of course, all silently, gently, in a white-glove way...” the major smiled lightly.

  A few of them responded with a smirk full of understanding. Gentle pressure from Brussels was already compared to a once in a lifetime opportunity presented by the Godfather himself. But hey, that’s the world. You have to accept it... or die. As long as it’s not for a second time.

  “Well, gentlemen,” the major said. “Specific plans will be developed by various subgroups. For now, this is it. Any questions?”

  He looked around the room, meeting quiet, thoughtful gazes. No one spoke.

  Yeah... a thought ran through Vesper’s head. We only lack an overachiever, who would now stand up now and ask, ‘so when are we gonna kick their asses, Chief?’ And it would be just like in a bad American movie.

  “In that case, thank you all.” The commander ended the meeting.

  They were still silent. Questions would come, oh yes, when there was more information. And when the conversation would be focused and on the subject.

  For now, the same thought stumbled around everyone’s heads.

  So it was true: a war.

  Total. And completely asymmetric.

  ***

  “The production of artificial blood, which is going to start here soon, is not so simple,” Alacer said, looking out the window.

  They were in one of the Polfa Tarchomin offices. After long negotiations with the administrative staff, it turned out that the only non-derelict room was located on the third floor. It was jointly occupied by nighters and police officers, creating a mini-backup in there.

  The shift lasted twelve hours, and snipers on the roof switched every two hours. There were five nighters per shift, four operational and a group leader. Ten anti-terrorist troops were supposed to be the battle unit. For now, they were stuck in a reception booth, not revealing their presence. Due to the top-secret nature of the mission, the local police units were not informed. It was a good thing that the Brodnowski Hospital nearby had ensured open spots.

  “Production is based on using plain hemoglobin,” Alacer looked at the policemen, then continued, “and protein contained in the red blood cells, and carbon dioxide.” He nodded lively. “Hemoglobin particles are too small to be injected into the human circulatory system. That’s why hemoglobin is joined with larger structures, polymerized strictly speaking. Polymers are large enough that they won’t damage the kidneys, and at the same time are not attacked by the immune system. Hey, am I right, Vesper?” He to the colleague sitting in the corner. “You were a doctor, tell me! Am I right?”

  “
Maybe,” Vesper muttered reluctantly. “I don’t know myself. I worked in the field rather briefly... and to be honest, I’d rather forget all about it.” He glanced at A-Ts gathered at the room’s other side.

  Dang, they are fucking messed up, he read their thoughts. Who do they take into that ISA? Eggheads, scientists, doctors? Doorkickers? Their minds pulsed with obvious reluctance.

  It was obvious from the get-go that the teams wouldn’t be able to get along. Both groups set themselves at opposite sides of the room, and stole wolfish glances at each other now and then.

  “Artificial blood doesn’t contain cells; all unnecessary substances can be removed from it.” Alacer continued with his lecture. “The blood group issue disappears too. It’s made using the ‘recycling’ of human blood that lost its suitability for transfusion because of long storage. You see, natural blood, despite storage in refrigerators, ceases to be usable only forty-two days after collection. The durability of artificial blood is measured in years...” He looked at the A-Ts triumphantly.

  Who the fuck cares, Alacer! Vesper sighed internally, but hid this thought, because he didn’t dare to tell the older colleague off. Showing off how smart we are? Let it go, man, okay?

  “Well, that would come in handy, a few bags of blood like that,” said one of the officers, apparently trying to be polite. “We had first aid training recently. If the wounded could get a transfusion immediately, it probably would help...” he finished the statement with a slightly bored sigh.

  “The US military is most interested in using artificial blood on the battlefield.” The nighter turned from the window, looking approvingly at the cop. “As far as I know, they support the research company Northfield Labs, which manufactures PolyHeme.”

  “I think it's time to switch,” Vesper said, getting up hastily. “The guys probably froze up out there.”

  On this warm, May night, he thought. Well, now I jacked up. A true commando never freezes; he feels refreshed at most.

  He caught the shadow of thankful glances from Daps, his current shift partner. Apparently he’d had enough of Alacer’s ravings and didn’t even notice the compromising remark about freezing up. Vesper smiled lightly, secretly. They had blood and symbionts and other ‘existence basics’ lectures at home daily, Umens pushing them mercilessly. And now this moron decided to show off in front of humans. Come on, enough is enough.

  Ready to switch? he said in his mind to the snipers on the roof.

  Finaaaally! Ebur and Falx confirmed with relief.

  Vesper smiled, and glanced questioningly at Alacer, the team leader. He nodded and took out his radio.

  “Brick One to Brick Two, can you hear me?” He said quickly. “Ready to switch?”

  “Yes, sir!” Brick Two replied instantly.

  “Brick Three on the way up,” Alacer said and hung up.

  “Copy, they also say copy.” Vesper groaned quietly, “If we’re already playing this charade, then maybe we should apply ourselves a bit! And now the cops have an additional argument to think of us as a group of especially incompetent morons.”

  He shrugged. However he would have fumed, the matter was lost anyway. Alacer had become so accustomed to telepathy for operational matters that he wasn’t able to return to the tedious ways of human communication. And the A-Ts didn’t hide that they considered their colleagues from ISA as Special Forces only worthy of a trash can attack.

  An approach like that didn’t make working together easy. Not one bit.

  Vesper sighed again, adjusted his weapon and marched out the door with Daps. They climbed the stairs in silence, walking instead of a flying up to opening to the roof above.

  Damn it.

  ***

  They make antibiotics here, Daps said in his mind. He lay on his stomach on an air cushion, two inches above the roof, and watched the factory buildings through the optical viewfinder. I wonder if they will ever make one that will kick the symbiont out of our blood.

  You would want that? Vesper pressed the PSG-1 to his arm, and adjusted his position. Then you would be able to go back to the other side... but what for?

  He twisted a bit, positioning himself more comfortably on the roof’s hard surface. For now, he couldn’t lie down softly on the air. Yes, he flew pretty well already, but it still cost him a lot of effort. Easy air bag creation was out of the question for now.

  He sighed inwardly. He would have to learn a lot more, before he considered himself a fully-fledged nighter. Yep, a lot more.

  And wouldn’t you want to experience that again, Vesper? his colleague said thoughtfully. You die... and wake up to a whole new life.

  But I really like my present life, thought the other firmly. I wouldn’t want to go back to the old one for anything. He shuddered at the thought of the arduous and sterile work of a pharmaceutical company representative. Heck no. At least I am someone in my own eyes.

  “The A-Ts certainly don’t think so...” Daps laughed somewhat maliciously. “Did you read them? Especially the big one they call Fluffy Crumbly or something like that. That one is full of aversion to screwing the workforce so much!”

  Vesper smiled lightly.

  “Alacer is doing everything he can not to lead them out of their mistake,” he admitted, carefully moving the viewer over to the nearby building’s roof. “Police gents take us for inexperienced girls and worry that we will just tangle between their feet. And when push comes to shove, they will cause us more problems than we would for them. Confronting the renegades, they are like children in the fog,” he broke off with a sigh.

  Daps fell silent for a moment, chewing on bitter thoughts.

  They're screwed, he thought finally. They’re stuck here like cattle for slaughter... And they don’t have a clue.

  Vesper froze suddenly. He stared at a shadow on the roof, enlarged by the telescope viewfinder. Did he imagine the shadow moved a bit? He pursed his lips in concentration, looked more closely... No, nothing. It's just the lamp blinking. The roof of the production hall was still clear.

  I don’t even know if we can do anything for them, Daps continued. If renegades get over here, we will crap our pants ourselves. We won’t be able to babysit police boys, a note of sadness could be heard in his telepathic voice.

  Vesper swallowed.

  “You know what? I'm afraid I know why they’re here...” he suddenly fell silent.

  “Our goals are clear,” Daps went on, as if his colleague’s statement hadn’t reached him. “We are to prevent any renegade’s arrest. Kill them all, without exception. So how are we supposed to bother with these people, too?” he shook his head barely visibly. “Well, sorry, we can’t.”

  “An arrested renegade would probably get a murder sentence, between twelve to twenty-five years,” Vesper sighed. “And during that time he would devour half the prison, if not more. And of course, the whole plan of hiding out until the right time would be screwed.”

  “Do you believe that?” Daps asked rapidly. “Do you believe in reconciliation, in the entire peaceful coexistence? That’s nonsense! Just read any book about us, watch any movie. You will find only one formula: the vampire is humanity’s enemy. He has to be killed at all cost. And it’s been going on for thousands of years. Do you think people will change their mind as if touched by a magic wand?"

  “There were no such technical possibilities before,” said Vesper reluctantly, and it seemed to him that he quoted Umens. “There was no artificial blood...”

  “Bull... It's not about technique. Mentality, man,” his colleague parried immediately. “The mentality of the people won’t change that quickly. They’ll always prefer to kill us, just in case. Maybe because they actually envy us. Who wouldn’t want to live forever?”

  “Then why are you doing this?” Vesper said. “Why are you a nighter, risking losing eternity, suffering through this constant hunger, if you don’t believe in what you're doing?”

  The other one was silent for a moment.

  “Do I have any other way?”
he said finally. “Join the renegades and get drugged, that’s hell. In that case, I prefer it the way it is.” He paused again, then added, after a moment, “You know, since they invented artificial blood... maybe they will come up with a drug that will kick that damn parasite out of my system. And I wouldn’t be afraid of the light anymore, and I would be able to have children and a family, and to grow old in peace,” he sighed heavily. “It would be nice, eh?”

  “This is not a parasite, it’s a symbiont,” was the only the answer Vesper could afford.

  “To me, it’s a parasite,” Daps muttered, then suddenly began to drop words like hail, “And all this is not as funny as it seems. You are young, you get jazzed about the cool stuff, telepathy, flying. But the years go by, and that life gets emptier, without purpose and meaning. You know why Ultor has such a bleak stare?”

  Vesper was silent for a moment.

  “I think I can guess,” he said finally. “Because he keeps making especially nasty decisions. Like our mission here today for example. You know exactly why these cops are here.”

  Daps calmed down immediately.

  “I know,” he said grimly. “Well, of course I know.”

  They both fell silent. They focused on a thorough, careful scanning the area, sweeping it with their sniper rifle scopes. Neither uttered the thoughts that had immediately appeared in their heads.

  The ten Anti-Terrorist troops supporting their unit had very slim chances in a fight with renegades. Especially if they send their most powerful soldiers, and everything pointed in that direction.

  The guys would die. Maybe not all of them, but some definitely would.

  Their sacrifice would not be in vain, of course. The police would be furious; they’d swear revenge on renegades—whom they take for extremely dangerous terrorists—a bloody revenge. Then nighters would have them on their side. After the eventual reveal, the eternal human-vampire friendship would gain a solid contribution into building its foundation. It would fit the idea of ​​a future, peaceful coexistence like a glove.

  And in the Anti-Terrorist base, a few new names would appear on the plaque that always has flowers in front of it.