Untarnished, She Shines With Honour // Arthur Maxson x F!Sole Survivor

Chapter Five

Her shoulders sag in relief. "I... Thank you, sir. I don't know what to say."

He dismisses the matter with a flippant wave of his hand. "No matter."

Ridley leans back against the railing, her arms crossed over her chest. "So what's the sort of favour you're asking of me?"

"The sort where you get to show off what you've learned during your time spent in the Commonwealth," Maxson says. He tilts his head towards the fort below them. "Take a look over there. What do you see?"

"In the fog? Nothing."

From anyone else, such insolence would have earned them a sharp reprimand. Ridley, he knows, isn't doing it in an attempt to undermine him. Her ability to put on a positive face even in the face of immediate danger is what earned her the respect of her men. Even when all hope is lost, she braves the storm. He knows what it is like to maintain appearances for the sake of morale.

So rather than getting offended, Maxson simply shoots her a sharp look. It only makes her grin. "That's Fort Strong."

"I know," she says. "I visited it once, as a child."

Sometimes he forgets that she is a woman literally out of time. "I imagine it wasn't infested with Super Mutants back then."

"Considering the fact that Super Mutants didn't exist back then, no, it didn't."

He scowls. "Knight Ridley, this is no laughing matter. Having those aberrations of nature close enough to smell is making me sick to my stomach."

"Judging by the way the wind is blowing, it's likely the smell of Marcy's stew coming in from the Castle." Her smile doesn't drop even as his scowl deepens. "With all due respect, sir, relax. I'm certain the next thing you're going to say is a request for me to go with a team, and take them out. They'll be gone by nightfall."

He gives up. She is three times worse than Sarah. At least Sarah knew when to hold her tongue. "It's not their existence that is the problem, Knight Ridley, though they've already hurt several knights."

"Shit, really?"

"Language," he reminds her, making her flush. "This is a serious matter, Knight. They're sitting on top of a massive stockpile of Fat Man shells we could use in our campaign."

That seems to get her attention. "Shit," she repeats, ignoring his previous words entirely. He bristles, but he can't bring himself to reprimand her. Her reaction is the same as his had been when he'd first heard the news. A little more vulgar, perhaps, but the sentiment is the same. "You know, when I woke up in the Vault, I'd hoped humanity would have learned. Weapons are dangerous, don't use weapons, et cetera. No, instead I find a world that's positively armed to the teeth. The only difference is that they lack the technology to destroy the whole world over again."

"That's why the Brotherhood's primary goal is to keep technology out of people's hands."

"There's technology that can help, and not destroy," she shoots back at him without pause. "Look at Washington. If the Brotherhood had confiscated every piece of technology, then you wouldn't have an unlimited source of purified water, now would you?"

Sarah had been a part of that. She had watched helplessly as one of the Brotherhood's sisters, a Vault Dweller by the name of Ashley, had walked into the radiation flooded room in a last ditch effort to restore water to the Capital Wasteland. It was by pure luck that she had survived.

He doesn't have very many clear memories of her, despite how many people ask him what it was like to know the Lone Wanderer personally. He had been, what, ten at the time? All he remembers his irrational jealousy that Sarah had fallen in love with her, as though his childhood crush on the young Lyons would ever lead anywhere.

Maxson decides not to respond to her deliberate taunting. "I trust that I don't have to explain your orders to you, Knight."

She falls silent, pulling out her 10mm pistol, and examining the many modifications she's made to the poor thing. Along with glow sights, and a suppressor, she's added an extended barrel, and God knows what else. He realises then that he's never seen her fight. Danse seems to trust her skills, though, and his reports of her battlefield prowess are positively glowing, and the Paladin isn't an easy man to please.

Then again, neither is Arthur Maxson.

"Kill anything that moves, secure the Fat Man shells," says Ridley. She holsters her gun. "Should be simple enough."

"The mutants will likely be using the Fat Man shells themselves."

"I stand by what I said."

He narrows his eyes. Even the bravest of his soldiers would be wary of heading straight into nest full of mutants armed to the teeth. "Have you ever used a Fat Man, Knight?"

She shuffles where she stands. "No, sir."

Ah. That would explain it. "Let me put it this way, then: one well-placed shot could take down the entire Prydwen. If you ever have the pleasure of firing one of them, allow me to give you a word of advice. Don't fire one of them in close quarters, or there won't be enough of you to bury in a shoebox."

"Perhaps once they're secured then, sir, you will have to give me private a lesson on how to handle them properly." There's something undeniably suggestive about her tone, and the quirk of one blonde brow. He isn't quite certain what she's getting at, but suddenly the collar of his black uniform feels a little too tight.

He clears his throat, trying to dryness of his mouth. "Perhaps," is all he manages to say.

She only laughs at his discomfort. "No worries, sir. Consider it done."

"Look," he says, bringing the topic back to the mission if only to give him something to focus on. "I realise you're eager to take the fight to the Institute, and I'm sorry. You can see why this is a large concern."

"No, no, I understand. The Super Mutants pose a more immediate threat to the Brotherhood. If they're clever enough to shoot the Prydwen, then... Besides, it'll take Proctor Ingram several days to make the modifications to the armour."

Her understanding makes him feel a little more relieved. He had worried she would not take well to being forced to stop trying to find her son in favour of helping the Brotherhood.

"I have a vertibird on standby, fully armed, and ready to depart when you're ready," Maxson continues.

She smiles. "Thank you, sir."

"And perhaps when you're back with the Fat Man shells," he says, turning away from her to look out at Fort Strong, "I might take you up on that private lesson. Dismissed." He can hear her pealing laughter all the way to the vertibird.