"Sorry to bother you with this, General, but the Abernathys are having problems with ghouls again."
"Let me guess: Wicked Shipping Fleet Lockup?" Nate snorted. "How many times do I have to clear that place out?"
"Hopefully this'll be the last," Preston replied sympathetically.
"I think you said that last time, too," the general of the Minutemen grunted as he grabbed his gear. It was then that he noticed that, other than the two of them, Hangman Alley was empty; even Dogmeat was nowhere to be seen. "Hey...where is everybody?"
"Out on patrol, sir," Preston said smoothly. "Listen...you mind if I come with you this time? The turret defenses you built should be able to hold things down while we're gone."
Nate studied his second-in-command for a moment. Something seemed strange, but he couldn't put his finger on it. So, he shrugged. "Sure; it's been a while since we've teamed up; it'd be a nice change of pace."
Preston gave his CO a relieved smile. "Glad to hear it, General."
***
From Hangman's Alley they headed northwest to Oberland Station. On the way, they intercepted one of Isabela's old Autmatron patrols and took it down, potentially saving more lives...for the time being.
"I'm tired of these damned things," Preston complained as they combed the wreckages for resources. "Oh, well; at least they're good for parts for defenses."
Nate grunted his agreement as he filled a pack with several circuit boards. He had been wanting to add better turret defenses to the Finch's homestead, so the boards were a godsend.
After a brief stop at Oberland to check its progress as well as a stop at Greygarden (where Supervisor White seemed more flirtatious than usual), they followed the tracks north. As they walked, Nate remembered that he had led Ada on a similar trip not too long ago. He then realized that he hadn't seen the former Automatron in a while. "Hey, Preston? Have you seen Ada in the last few days?"
"Of course, sir," the minuteman replied easily. "She'd come by to sleep, but she has been out a lot lately, on salvaging missions with Danse and such."
Nate thought that his second-in-command sounded a little evasive, but decided to not press the matter.
He smiled as Abernathy Farm came into view. He and the Abernathy patriarch, Blake, got along quite well and, even though he was tired of having to clear out the same place over and over again, the conversations with the farmer more than made up for the tedium.
"Hey, good to see you, friend," Blake greeted as the pair approached. "I want to thank you for thinking of me and my family."
"Um, you're welcome?" Nate replied, confused. "I understand you're having problems with ghouls again?"
"Yeah," the old farmer said as he scratched his beard. "Strange thing is, they seem to be coming from the north this time; normally we get them coming from Wicked Shipping..."
"Yeah, I know about that," Nate groaned at several memories.
"...but this time they seem to be coming from north of Sanctuary."
Nate's blood froze. "Vault 111? No..."
"General?" came Preston's concerned voice.
"Nora?" He started off at a jog, headed toward Sanctuary. It didn't take long for him to break into a sprint, making it difficult for his second-in command to keep up.
By the time Preston arrived at the Vault 111 entrance, the elevator had already descended. With a smile, he headed over to the nearby control hut, pulling a suit out of his pack as he did so.
