The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 106: New Plans

Gregoir had given a nice speech, Dan thought, as they left the concert hall. Short and sweet, but filled with hope and humility. It was a nice way to start off the proceedings. Too bad the rest of the ceremony hadn’t lived up to Gregoir’s example. There was a great deal of pandering from various higher-ups, a few speeches about change, justice, a new day, the standard fare. Dan tuned most of it out.

Now he walked beside Abby, Connor, and Freya, exiting the large auditorium once it became obvious that Gregoir’s moment was long over. He wasn’t even on stage anymore, neither he nor the other officers given awards for valor. Their time in the spotlight had come and gone, and none of the foursome were interested in watching anything that might come after. So they left, slipping out of the private box and escaping the building ahead of the crowd.

An unusual sight greeted them outside. The event was being picketed. Thirty-odd people stood at the base of the stairs leading down to the sidewalk. They flanked the path on either side, waving signs with slogans like ‘Punish the police!’ and ‘Take back our city!’ and ‘They protect and serve themselves!’ All manner of catchy, hurtful things that had Connor bristling and Freya rolling her eyes.

Neither Connor nor Freya were in uniform, eschewing dress blues for black tie attire. Dan’s little entourage drew a few shouts from the crowd as they passed, along with the mandatory sign wagging, but no real hostility. That would quickly change the moment Connor opened his mouth. Dan could see the threat forming. He could see the younger man’s grinding teeth, the pulsing vein in his temple, the stomping footsteps that would precede him rounding on the nearest heckler.

Freya stepped in before things could escalate, wrapping herself around Connor’s arm and dragging him forcefully forward. The young officer visibly swallowed his annoyance and allowed him to be lead away to the garage. The picketers shouts followed them as they rounded the corner.

“Dinner at my place?” Dan asked into the awkward silence. “I just cleaned it up.”

“That would be lovely,” Freya said sweetly, still dragging a fuming Connor along.

They parted at the garage, Dan and Abby for their rented car, Connor and Freya for their own. The drive home was a comfortable affair. Abby’s fingers tickled the top of Dan’s hand as it rested on the center console. She leaned her head against his shoulder. There was silence, but it was a warm sort of silence. The kind that filled you up and wrapped you tight.

Everyone arrived at the same time. Dan let his friends into his house and they got comfortable while Abby put on coffee. The television was turned on and news played in the background while they made small talk. Connor lasted about five minutes before he burst like an overripe melon.

“I should’ve talked to those people!” he exclaimed into the room. The small talk died.

Freya turned to him, eyebrow raised imperiously. “What possible good could have come from that?”

“I could have explained things,” Connor argued passionately. “The APD had nothing to do with the UT Massacre, nor any of the horrible things that have happened in the past few weeks! We protect the people! I could have explained that!”

“You would have only frightened them, dear,” Freya said with a conciliatory pat on Connor’s shoulder. “None of them care one whit about what you have to say. They have a cause they believe in, and a ten-minute conversation with what they perceive as the enemy won’t sway their opinions a jot.”

“I could have explained things,” Connor repeated stubbornly. “It’s not fair for them to blame us. We did our best. We did nothing wrong!”

“They were in no mood to listen,” Freya replied matter-of-factly. She tapped a finger below her eyes. “That much was obvious to me.”

Connor scowled. “If nobody ever talks to them, then nothing will ever change.”

“Pick your moment, my love,” Freya advised. “You’ll never argue down a crowd by yourself. It’s foolish to even try.”

“But there shouldn’t be any crowds!” Connor replied heatedly. “Not at an APD event! We weren’t even a part of the protest crackdowns, to say nothing of the other atrocities! Captain Gable actively argued against them, and Officer Pierre-Louise captured Coldeyes! We aren’t like those federal soldiers, mowing down the people we’re supposed to protect!”

“Some people aren’t really making that distinction right now,” Dan pointed out. “Besides, public opinion seems to be on your side: there weren’t all that many people picketing the event. There will always be outliers. You shouldn’t sweat it.”

“Where there is one, there could be more,” Connor said, crossing his arms petulantly. “Uninformed opinions should be confronted immediately. Nip them in the bud; don’t allow them to fester!”

“We can proclaim innocence all we’d like,” Freya countered, “but the fact of the matter is we were lucky.”

Abby regarded her strangely. “Lucky?”

Freya nodded. She reached up and pressed her hand against Connor’s cheek. She turned his head to face her, and forced him to meet her gaze. “If we’d been ordered to assist the National Guard, we might have been right beside them on that campus. We might have made the exact same choices as those soldiers. We were lucky that they didn’t want our help, that they saw us as liabilities rather than assets.”

“Only because they knew we would protest those orders,” Connor replied resolutely. “Nobody in the APD would have done those things. Not to our own citizens!”

“You shouldn’t speak for others,” Freya chided. “Had the order come down, I believe many would have obeyed.”

Connor looked aghast. “How can you say that?”

She shrugged. “Orders are orders. To some, that’s all that is required.”

“That argument fell out of favor in the forties,” Dan noted.

Freya waved the comment away. “That would only matter if they saw the inside of a courtroom.”

Dan cocked his head. “Is that not likely?”

He hadn’t really given much thought to what would happen to those soldiers who had participated in the UT Massacre. He held little hope that the protest crackdowns would carry any real consequence, but with hundreds of students dead and thousands more injured surely there would be some kind of litigation involved.

“No,” Freya replied simply.

Abby filled in the rest, “Federal troops lawfully deployed within United States borders have special protections that prevent that sort of thing. And who would even prosecute them?”

“Every news channel I listen to tells me that the President of the United States is going to lose the next election because of this, but the troops who actually did it won’t see any punishment?” Dan asked, incredulously. “What about the commanders? They aren’t popsicles anymore. Shouldn’t they see a court martial or something?”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means,” Freya said consolingly.

“I’m going to organize a memorial service for the students who died,” Connor announced, suddenly standing up.

They all stared at him.

“I think they did that already, buddy,” Dan said, his voice unsure.

“The students held a service at the college,” Abby confirmed. “They commissioned a monument to be built and everything.”

The revelation didn’t seem to affect Connor in the slightest. His chest puffed up and his shoulders squared. He put on a look of stubborn determination and said, “Well, I’m going to organize another one.”

“…For the APD?” Dan asked hesitantly.

“No, no, of course not,” Connor dismissed instantly. He planted both fists at his waist and stood much like a shorter, skinnier Gregoir. “It’ll be for everyone in the city, everyone who lost something! It’ll be a chance for the city to mourn together, as one, and mend the rifts between us!”

“That’s shockingly optimistic coming from you,” Dan noted.

“Quiet Newman!” He thrust his palm at Dan, eyes flicking sightlessly back and forth. “I’m having a brainwave!”

“You look like you’re having a stroke.”

“Silence!” Connor turned to Freya. “My love, would you mind terribly if I took the car?”

“Go, go,” Freya shooed him quickly away. “I’m sure they’ll give me a ride home. Go do what you have to do.”

“Thank you!” The young man leaned forward, planting a hard kiss against the Valkyrie’s lips, before spinning away and running out of the room. Dan heard the door open, then slam shut. Silence crept back into the room.

“Well that happened,” Dan observed.

Freya leaned back in the sofa and reached for the television remote. She flicked the channel to the evening news and casually remarked, “Passion is a virtue to be admired. One cannot have too much of it.”

“Yeah?” Dan snorted. “Tell it to Gregoir.”