Fallout 4: AR

80. Aftermath

MacCready grimaced at the qualified compliment and shrugged. "Head shots are my specialty. Why? 'Dead' is more important that 'pretty,' especially when he was trying to kidnap my partner... again." His arm tightened around my shoulder, and I leaned into his embrace.

"The Brotherhood can learn a lot from it, especially if we can successfully extract the Synth component from what's left of its brain." She carefully wrapped the shattered head in gauze. "We'll have to take it back to the Prydwen. I'm going to need Cade's help."

"What do you hope to find? I gave you everything the R- uh, my allies... were able to glean from the Courser we took down months ago at Bunker Hill." I still hadn't mentioned the Railroad to the Brotherhood leadership. The two factions were diametrically opposed on the topic of Synths. Though, I thought sadly, staving off another wave of grief, with this latest development... I might have to say something. Poor Haylen.

"As you said, it's been months. In that time, new information, new updates, anything could have changed. We also could find something that your allies missed. The original courser chip never made it into our possession for some reason." The look she gave me was disapproving and a little speculative. "If you were members of the Brotherhood, I would have had words with you about that."

"But we're not," MacCready stepped in, all brash attitude and confidence. "We're independent agents. Be grateful the boss here shared what she did. Anyway, is there going to be a problem with stocking up on our way out? The fee for our assistance was adequate, but this is how we supplement our income."

"Synths only." I clarified to Ingram when she looked about to protest. "We take their gear and improve it for our own people." I was surprised MacCready even bothered asking, but then again, he was perceptive enough to realize we were essentially deep in the middle of Brotherhood territory, however temporary it might be. He may not admit it, but he's more sensitive to others' feelings and considerate of diplomacy than most people realize. I'm so very proud of him. He didn't see the fond smile I gave him, but Ingram did.

With a raised eyebrow, she nodded. "'Looting', you mean. Go ahead. I'm all for turning the Institute's weapons against them."

Hmm, I wonder if that attitude can be expanded to include rogue Synths?

We started climbing towards the roof. Following my previous decree, we left any fallen Brotherhood or Minutemen soldiers alone, respecting their sacrifice and allowing their own forces to recover the remains. MacCready still didn't like it much, but I was adamant about not looting from our allies. "There's plenty of stuff on the Synths, Mac," I insisted. "We can't possibly carry everything."

"For a pile of caps, I can certainly try," he countered, eyeing a bulging ammunition pouch on a fallen Minuteman. When I shook my head, he rolled his eyes. "Fine. It's a good thing I love you so much, angel."

His words were like a soothing balm to my aching soul. "The feeling's mutual, RJ. You're the best."

"I know."

By the time we emerged onto the roof, our packs were overflowing with useful items, weaponry, and ammunition taken from the multitude of dead Synths littering the skyscraper. Maxson frowned at our haul but, since the Brotherhood soldiers were also scavenging the Institute forces for useful technology and intelligence, he kept his peace. We stopped a few paces away, watching a stream of vertibirds emerging from starry velvet darkness. Each would discharge a set of passengers to scurry into the building, presumably to help recover the fallen and salvage weapons and power armor so it isn't left behind, and load up with a squad of battered survivors. When there was a lull in the convoy, we approached.

"Thank you for your assistance," Maxson said, "though the outcome was not what we were expecting. I will instruct the next vertibird pilot to return you to Goodneighbor."

"Thank you, Elder Maxson. Now that the Institute has the, uh..." I blanked on the name.

"Beryllium Agitator."

"Yes, that." I took a nervous breath. "Now that they have it, what are you... we... going to do?"

"'We', Boss?" MacCready asked quietly in my ear. I nodded and he frowned, but took my hand. "Okay then."

"We must take the fight to the Institute itself. We cannot allow them to further destroy the Commonwealth with their corrupt technology." Maxson's eyes were steely, and he seemed to expand with purpose. "They are a destructive weapon sowing chaos and death across the Wasteland and need to be completely annihilated."

"You have a way to get inside the Institute?" I asked, surprised.

"No." The admission pained him.

I pondered his words, the phrasing sounding oddly familiar. A destructive weapon? In a flash, Mama Murphy's vision came back to me. "...You are the focus... The aim of a terrible weapon... guiding destruction... ah, the weapon! It needs to move... it needs a tripod, a sturdy base..." I went cold and shivered involuntarily as the words suddenly made sense. "I need to aim the weapon," I whispered to myself. "It's up to me... to build the tripod."

"What's that, Boss?" MacCready leaned in to hear better.

I tugged on his sleeve in inspired understanding. "Mama Murphy's vision! The tripod! Steel, bone, and iron."

He groaned, "Oh no, Boss, don't tell me you believe..." he cut off as I addressed Maxson directly, who had been watching with suspicion-laced curiosity.

"Elder Maxson," I spoke firmly. "I believe it is time to put all our cards on the table. We need to combine every faction in the Commonwealth if we're going to win this war. If you're truly willing to do whatever it takes to eliminate the Institute, join us in Goodneighbor with an open mind and your best people. We're going to turn their weapon on themselves."

Maxson stared at me. "You have a plan, Sarge?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly... not yet, but with the brightest minds in the Commonwealth working together, we will." Please, please trust me on this. "But you must set aside your prejudices and be willing to work with people you fundamentally disagree with. It can't succeed otherwise."

The whump-whump-whump of an approaching line of vertibirds became audible as Maxson thought about my proposition. "You've been an asset and an ally, Sarge. You've cooperated with everything the Brotherhood has asked of you. Danse respects both of you." He stroked his beard, scanning the horizon. "You've also freely spoken your mind, even when it's something I don't want to hear. And now you make a proposition... asking an awful lot of me and the Brotherhood."

I held my breath, only exhaling when he spoke again. "I may not want to hear what you have to say, but I think it's our best course of action. Fine. I accept your invitation to a meeting. Give me two days. That's the earliest we can be ready. We need to recover and honor our fallen comrades."

"Two days, then." I was lightheaded with relief and squeezed MacCready's hand. "Thank you, Elder Maxson. We'll go make our own preparations."

As soon as Maxson walked away to oversee the next sortie of vertibirds, MacCready turned to look at me. "You sure about this? If I'm guessing your intentions correctly, you want to put the Brotherhood, the Minutemen, and the Railroad leaders in one room together?" He shook his head. "I dunno, Boss. You think you can keep them from each others' throats?"

"I don't know, Mac. All I can do is try. Even if Mama Murphy's vision is nothing more than a Psycho dream, it's still the best idea we've got. Each of the factions has something the others need. We have to work together." I leaned into his wiry strength, taking comfort from his presence. "As long as I have you, everything will be okay."

"So no pressure then," he chuckled wryly. "You're crazy, angel, but if you're right, we may have a fighting chance."