Lessons in Ethics
"Meet with the Brotherhood." It's never just that easy, I thought sourly as I squirmed in my handcuffs, waiting to be released from Knight-Captain Cade's purview.
No sooner had we come into view of the gate guard than we had been halted at gunpoint, questioned, told to wait, questioned again, threatened (at which MacCready had nearly punched the Knight, power armor or no, until I snapped at him to stand down), questioned yet again, and then, finally, we were allowed to meet with Paladin Danse. Our arrival was cutting it quite fine, as Danse had been preparing to depart back to Cambridge. However, as soon as word reached him of who was at the front gate, he abruptly ordered the vertibird to land at the airport instead.
MacCready was welcomed with a cordial greeting, but when his back was turned, another Brotherhood Knight secured me in a set of handcuffs. Danse apologized for the precaution, assuring me that as soon as my identity was confirmed, I would be released. I met my partner's gaze with a significant one of my own before reluctantly agreeing to the temporary (I hoped) constraint. MacCready nodded sharply to Danse, an unhappy frown on his face, and came to stand next to me. In this slightly humiliating manner, we made our way to the waiting vertibird and aboard the Prydwen.
Despite our protests, Danse led MacCready to the meeting room at the bow of the Prydwen while I was taken to the medical bay and Knight Captain Cade's examinations. Cade was almost apologetic in his ministrations, especially after I sharply pointed out the buried cathodes. "It's a formality we need to observe, Sarge," he disclosed quietly, "this examination. If you had disappeared for several days, then this examination would be more of a necessity. But I'm pretty much convinced you are who you say you are." When I demonstrated the fact that my Pip-Boy couldn't be removed unless I allowed it, he nodded thoughtfully, typing into his terminal. "Good to know. Your Pip-Boy also isn't from this world, so there's that too. The materials scan completely differently."
Once he had finished typing up his report, he came over to the examination table. "I'm going to send this along to Elder Maxson. Once I receive an update on your status, I'll release you from my, ah, care. In the meantime is there anything, other than unlocking those handcuffs, I can get for you? Water, perhaps?"
Still somewhat nettled at the institutional lack of trust, I nevertheless had tried to keep my voice pleasant. "Water would be very nice, thank you." I kicked my legs a little, the blisters on my feet burning unpleasantly. "I don't suppose you have a pair of slippers, would you? Wet leather and miles of walking don't make for happy feet."
"No, they wouldn't, would they? Let me see what I can do for you. Here's some water to get you started."
It's never easy.
-0-
When Danse arrived to escort me to Maxson, I took the opportunity to ask him, privately, about the aftermath at Bunker Hill. More specifically, I confronted him about his insistence that I was as good as dead. "I don't appreciate the lack of trust, Danse. I know I'm not exactly Wasteland material, but I'm not helpless." Just a coward. "Not to mention tearing my bodyguard up inside. He was already upset that I had been kidnapped while under his protection."
Danse raised his eyebrows at my reproach. "It wasn't doubting your abilities," he explained in a stilted tone. "It was more the necessity to present the worst-case scenario to your partner so he would be prepared. Since you did come back, he should have been pleasantly surprised."
"He was surprised, all right." I muttered sourly. "You realize, I hope, that he nearly killed me thinking I was a Synth?"
Danse stopped dead in his tracks, a shocked look on his suddenly blanched face. "I... I didn't know he would have reacted so strongly. I'm sorry."
Shrugging fatalistically, I shuffled along the steel walkway. "It was a bit more complicated than that. But it could have easily ended very, very badly. Next time, try to provide a couple of different options, hmm?"
Walking into the meeting room was almost as nerve-wracking as the embarrassing walk to the vertibird. I hoped my bandaged and slippered feet went unnoticed, the jury-rigged footwear detracting from what little authority I might have had. Fortunately, a hefty table had been placed in the center of the room, surrounded by a ring of chairs, mostly unoccupied. I spied MacCready almost immediately and as soon as our eyes met, I felt the tension drain from my body. He's here; everything's going to be okay. Mac appeared to feel the same way, taking a deep breath and flashing me a very brief relieved look centered mostly in his deep blue eyes. I marched determinedly over to take the chair next to his, while Paladin Danse sat next to Maxson opposite us. Once seated, MacCready's hand found mine and we laced our fingers together under the table, taking comfort from each other. Elder Maxson was seated at the head of the table, thoughtfully tapping his fingers on an empty shot glass. I pinned him with a steady stare, waiting for him to speak.
He met my gaze with an uncompromising expression. "Since you're prior military, I know you are aware of the need for operational security." When I nodded, still unsmiling, he continued. "I do not apologize for the caution in our methods. I will, however, accept that this ordeal was less than pleasant for you. I thank you for your patience and, more importantly, for the intelligence you have brought to our attention." He gestured to the disk file on the table. "You have proven time and again to be a valuable asset to our organization, and I personally promise the Brotherhood's full cooperation and assistance in your pursuit."
Breaking the eye contact that had been starting to get uncomfortable, he turned his attention back to Danse. "Now, back to the subject at hand. The moment the information contained in this file came to light, the Brotherhood's mission became abundantly clear. The Institute and everyone responsible for the creation of the synths must be eliminated, at all costs. To accomplish this goal, we need to locate the Institute's headquarters. Now that we know they're underground, I'm going to order our scribes to start searching the Commonwealth for their precise location and physical access. It could be through the sewers, the transit tunnels or maybe an old vault. The Institute has managed to keep itself hidden for a number of years, but it's only a matter of time before we find them. Our historical records indicate that the Institute was born from the remnants of a pre-war educational facility, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I recommend focusing our efforts there."
Danse nodded, making a note on a handheld device.
"Elder Maxson?" I cleared my throat tentatively, "What do you plan to do when you find the Institute? I mean, like you said, it's only a matter of time before you discover their exact location."
His answer was steely with suppressed rage. "Wipe them, and all of the abominations they've created... those anathema they call 'Synths'... off the face of the Earth."
"Wait, all of them?" I was shocked.
"Every last one. The concept of a machine possessing 'free will' is abhorrent. I will not stand idly by to let them roam the Wasteland, a danger to everyone." The color rose in his face, difficult to spot beneath the neat beard, but the emotion was there.
"What about the Synths who've escaped? They just want to live their lives in peace. Hell, some of them have even helped me try to find a way home!" Anger burned away the trepidation I had originally felt towards Maxson. He was being completely unreasonable, advocating for what was essentially genocide. "What about innocents in the Institute? If they've been hiding away for all these years, they would have to have procreated." MacCready's fingers squeezed mine. "Would you kill children?" My ire was up, and I was warming to my tirade.
"Not innocents, of course!" Maxson protested, his resolute stance wavering just a trifle. "But the organization itself has to go."
"And innocent Synths? They didn't ask to be created, yet here they are. They're not a danger." I pressed him, feeling both Brotherhood leaders' attention shift to me. It wasn't at all friendly, and I took comfort in the presence of my partner to withstand the desire to sink back into my seat and give up. No, they have no voice here, so it's up to me I guess. MacCready's pretty lukewarm about Synths in general, but he'll support me if I ask him to.
"They're not human!" Maxson thundered. "They're an abomination of technology and need to be destroyed!"
"You know," I said in a clipped voice, "when I spoke with the director of the Institute during my unintended visit, he doesn't consider anyone living on the surface to be 'human' anymore; that the radiation on the surface has mutated everyone too much." At Maxson's stunned stare, I drove my point home. "Right now, you sound an awful lot like him." A low growl met my words and I almost lost my nerve. "'Wipe out everything that isn't exactly like us.' Is that how you want the Brotherhood to operate?" Steeling myself for one last try, I took a bracing breath to still my quaking limbs. I wouldn't dare say any of this in front of a larger group, undermining Maxson's authority with his own troops. My words were meant for him alone, a desperate appeal to rethink the ethics of his blind fanaticism.
"You don't get to eliminate an entire population just because they exist." I stood up, letting go of MacCready to place my hands on the table, leaning slightly forward in earnest. "We have a long history, us humans, of doing just that. It's called genocide, holocaust, eugenics... all terms for mass murder. With the effects of radiation, the definition for 'people' has become blurred. You can't just paint an entire group with the broad brush of 'abomination'. I've met Ghouls and Synths with more humanity, more compassion than many humans who have tried to kill me. Are there dangerous Ghouls? Yes. Synths? Yes. But, like humans, we need to treat them as individuals, and react accordingly. This world is more harsh than mine, but maybe it doesn't have to be for people just trying to live in peace."
Sitting down again, I hoped my nervous trembling wasn't visible. "It's a matter of ethics. I don't know where you got the idea that you're the final authority on what's an abomination or not, but if you're bound and determined to commit genocide against a group of sentient people who are no threat to you, then count me out. I don't need that kind of... cooperation... from you. And I definitely will not assist or even be associated with a faction so blind to their own fanaticism." Maxson had the grace to actually look thoughtful at my words, but I didn't dare look at Danse. Maxson's the one I need to get through to. I think Danse might already be partly convinced thanks to MacCready the last time we were here. My moment of brash courage had flared and died, and now I would be left with the consequences. Please, please realize that I'm doing this out of kindness and compassion, a sincere desire to see you become better than a petty tyrant.
"Maybe you don't realize it up here in your fortified headquarters, but the Brotherhood doesn't exactly have the best reputation with the common citizen. It's one reason I suggested an alliance with the Minutemen, to help everyone and boost your reputation while doing so." My legs were shaking in reaction, the nauseating feeling of conflict threatening to overwhelm me. I squeezed MacCready's hand for reassurance, focusing on the head of the table.
Maxson's gaze darted around the room, his face flushed with emotion tightly controlled except for his slightly harsh breathing. Finally, Danse's powerful tones broke through the tension in the room. "Sarge is right. We're the Brotherhood of Steel, sworn to protect the citizens of the Commonwealth... all of them. Since being boots on the ground, I've seen enough to realize that we need to broaden our minds to the new reality of civilization." He met Maxson's renewed stare with one of his own, a silent contest of titanic wills. "The Institute is our real enemy, Arthur, not the scattered runaways, not the friendly Ghouls. I don't like them either, but they're not a threat to us if we leave them alone. Working with the Minutemen has taught me that."
"We will discuss this later, Danse." Maxson admonished in a commanding tone. "Sarge, I will take the time to think about what you've said. You're an outsider, and maybe your view, untainted by institutional blinders, is worth considering. In the meantime, take Paladin Danse with you and go speak with Proctor Ingram about your needs. This meeting is adjourned. Dismissed!"
-0-
The noisy engines of the vertibird provided an appropriate accompaniment to the turmoil in my mind. I was curled up in the center of the bulkhead bench, face buried in my knees which were hugged to my chest as we made our way towards Sanctuary. Danse had stayed behind on the Prydwen, locked in a private meeting with Elder Maxson. I hope he can be brought around, I mused about the young leader of the Brotherhood. If I do nothing else out here, mitigating institutional racism, helping those who are oppressed, is something to be cherished.
MacCready was manning the minigun station on the side of the troop hold, taking shots at hostile targets whenever they came in range. Being able to see the landscape as it passed by apparently helped his motion sickness, and he fired the minigun with a silent intensity that had only grown since boarding for our journey. I barely noticed the noise of the weapon, though. My thoughts turned inward to review the heartbreaking conversation with Proctor Ingram.
"That kind of power just doesn't exist in the Commonwealth to our knowledge," she had said, shaking her head regretfully. "If it did, then we could..." and had broken off suddenly with a, "Sorry, that's restricted Brotherhood intelligence. Nevertheless, we're talking about an enormous amount of energy."
A tear leaked down my cheek and was instantly whipped away in the torrent of air from the open bay doors.
"The charger idea might work," Ingram had broached tentatively when she realized the depth of my homesick despair. "But I'm afraid it would take a very long time to fill your little battery there with enough voltage to send you back home."
"How long is 'very long'?" I had asked.
"Months. Years, even." was the crushing answer. "It's a question of the charger, not the battery."
And by then, if Father is to be believed, my DNA would have altered too much to be able to link to the connection I have to my own world. I sobbed quietly into my knees, letting the fierce wind scour away the tears. What am I supposed to do?
Some time later, the vertibird angled in for a landing. The pilot set us down gently, rotors slowing to a ready state in preparation for imminent takeoff as soon as the two of us departed. A tug on my sleeve brought me out of my reverie and I scrambled to follow MacCready. We rushed across the tangled undergrowth, getting out of range of the whirling blades. Majestically, the vertibird rose into the clear sky, turning ponderously towards the south and east before accelerating away. I watched the vehicle disappear into the distance, only turning when MacCready cleared his throat.
"Sanctuary is that way, Boss," he pointed past the hill behind me. We were standing just below an abandoned "Red Rocket" filling station, the broken road leading up towards the bridge into Sanctuary. Still trying to gather my scattered wits and thoughts, I turned slowly to trudge in the indicated direction. MacCready quietly paced alongside, inspecting me with a thoughtful expression I couldn't decipher. When I couldn't take the silent attention any longer, I stopped to face him.
"You need something, MacCready?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the irritation out of my voice. He didn't deserve it. Damn it, he's the one good thing about being stuck here. I can't keep dumping my frustration on him. "I'm sorry," I blushed, patting his arm in silent apology. "Let me try again. What's on your mind?" This time, my tone was pleasant, wanting more than anything else to see him smile. Of course, with a bandanna on, that's kinda tough right now...
He regarded me with an almost melancholy gaze, searching my face. My heart pounded in my chest as it always did when we were this close, looking into each others' eyes. He shifted the grip on his sniper, the motion catching my attention for a moment. When I looked back up, the expression in his glorious blue eyes was back to normal, and I thought maybe I had imagined the distant look just a moment ago.
"Hey, Boss, mind if I go hunt down a radstag for dinner?" His question took me completely by surprise, and I blinked in confusion. He kicked at a bit of scattered gravel a little defensively. "Since we're showing up without warning, the extra meat would probably be welcome, and I know there are radstags in the area... it's also something I know you can eat without... well, you know."
"Uh sure, MacCready," I answered, touched by his thoughtfulness, though still a little baffled as to why he was essentially asking to go off alone. We usually either butchered the creatures that attacked us, or went hunting together. "Let me take your pack to lighten the load for you. Thanks. I'll find us a place to stay in... town? What should we call Sanctuary now, anyway?"
He shrugged apathetically, turning to scan the woods. "Dunno. 'Town' is as good a word as any." He strode off with his usual graceful stalk, calling quietly over his shoulder. "I'll come find you when I'm done."
I stood there for a few moments, perplexed, feeling like something was off, but not quite able to put my finger on it. MacCready had been very, very quiet since the meeting with Maxson, which was decidedly unusual for someone as garrulous as he normally was. Huh, I thought, shouldering the second pack, Maybe he just needs some time alone to think. Lord knows the last few days have been difficult for both of us.
With one last look over my shoulder in the direction my partner had disappeared to, I turned and made my way towards Sanctuary.