Desdemona and Deacon joined us when we met with Tinker Tom the next day. MacCready had taken his usual protective stance behind my chair, and grumbled in disgust when the irrepressible spy took the seat next to mine. Desdemona leaned against Tom's workstation with her arms crossed, announcing, "All right, Tom. We're all here. Tell us what you've found."
"Hoo-boy!" chortled Tinker Tom, rubbing his hands together in glee. "The Institute is scurrying like a radroach nest on fire! Crippling their matter transport system was a brilliant move by our rogue allies on the inside! Thanks to this little baby," and he held up the plastic oblong that Z1-87 had given me, "we were able to secure a line of communication to the rebels. They're keeping us informed of doings in the Institute. Our Synth friends down there are also working on digging a physical escape tunnel, something not dependent on the Institute's transmitters."
"That's wonderful news!" Desdemona exclaimed, echoed by myself and Deacon. MacCready, possibly due to being in "bodyguard" mode, was keeping neutral. "Knowing what's going on in there, and what they might be planning is going to make the Railroad much more efficient. Good work."
"Oh, there's more!" Tom showed us some of the information my Pip-Boy had stolen from the Institute's computer systems, confirming one of his own long-held suspicions. "They're researching terraforming," he explained, "trying to develop crops and other flora that could flourish in, and even possibly mitigate, the radiation up here."
"That's a good thing though, isn't it?" I asked in confusion. "I know I'm having trouble finding food I can eat safely, but then again I'm not from here. Crops that resist radiation can only be a benefit to everyone."
"That's true, as far as it goes," Tom admitted. "But there are no plans whatsoever to share these crops with local farmers. In fact," he scrolled down to a highlighted section, "some of the later stages of their project specifically mention the lack of human, errr... 'surface-dweller' presence."
"That sounds... ominous." Deacon intoned, peering intently at the screen. "Synth farmers, hmm? Wonder where us humans are supposed to go? Maybe they've got a great community settlement planned for us in the Bahamas! No?" He slumped, feigning disappointment.
I sighed, a little sadly. "I got the distinct impression that the Institute, or at least their leader, doesn't consider anyone on the surface 'human' anymore." All four of my compatriots grumbled ominously in response.
"You mentioned that yesterday. We're a hell of a lot more human, more humane, than they are!" Desdemona stormed. "We're not the ones letting loose a horde of failed experiments to run amok, kidnapping people, or enslaving sentient beings!"
"How dare they call us less than human!" snapped MacCready, to my surprise. I peeked back to see his fists clenched, an angry scowl on his face. Even Deacon lowered his shades to regard my partner with widened eyes. "They have no idea what it's like to survive out here! Hiding in their safe, undetectable stronghold, making stupid judgment calls... it makes me sick to my stomach!" With that final impassioned outburst, he got a hold of his temper and resumed his guard stance, arms folded, quietly fuming. I gave him what I hoped was a sympathetic look and a quick nod of my head in recognition of his feelings.
"Whatever they are planning, we need to make sure we keep abreast of it." Desdemona had given MacCready a raised eyebrow and a long measuring stare at his outburst before returning to the discussion at hand. "This 'terraforming' program isn't the only thing they've been working on, I can guarantee it. That's where Tom's programs come in. I wish the Institute hadn't learned of your existence in the Commonwealth, Anne, and I had hoped we could have installed our surveillance software under more controlled conditions, but you did remarkably well under the circumstances." She paused, as if choosing her next words carefully.
"Thanks, I think." I said, not quite trusting the turn the discussion was taking. "Um, why do I get the feeling that you're about to drop more bad news on me?"
"Because we are." Deacon sighed in regret, turning to give his attention back to Tinker Tom. Behind me, MacCready grumbled softly under his breath and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, which I covered with mine.
"Uhh, yeah," Tom shifted his weight nervously. "You see, wiping the Institute's matter transmission data prevented them from knowing where you went or immediately sending anyone after you, but it didn't disable their communication relays. So, while no one in the Institute can currently teleport in or out..."
"The Synths and agents already on the surface are actively searching for you," Deacon finished quietly. "And not even the Railroad knows who all of them are."
I felt the blood drain from my face, reeling from the impact of the news. Feeling faint, I leaned forward to cradle my head in my hands, hopeless tears stinging my eyes. I'm being hunted. The thoughts swirled frantically in my mind. Shit shit shit! What can I do about that? Am I going to get everyone else in danger? How am I supposed to get home while on the run? Above my head, there were random noises of moving cloth and shuffling feet. The sound of a body being shoved floated across the emotional tension just as a pair of muddy boots stepped into my field of vision. MacCready. He crouched down and gripped my upper arms supportively.
"Pull it together, Boss," he whispered firmly. "Right now we're alive, we're safe, and I won't let those bastards lay a finger on you ever again. We can take on the whole world if we stick together, right?"
Taking heart in his steadfast support, I looked deeply into his intense crystal gaze and nodded. "We". I don't know if I deserve that, but I love the sound of it. "Right. Thank you." Standing up, I firmly grasped on to my courage and turned to address the Railroad leaders. "So, what do we need to do?"
-0-
They called it "going dark." MacCready and I were both given new outfits lined with Tom's ballistic weave, as well as different headgear and even a couple of bandannas we were to wear at all times in public. My Pip-Boy was currently stowed in the cargo pocket of my trousers, wrapped in a thin square of lead-lined cloth. While the likelihood of the Institute agents being able to locate me from its signal was low, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Since I couldn't turn the darn thing off, removing it and trying to shield the signal was the next best thing. I felt more exposed without its constant background thrum along my nerves than if I were walking around naked. Next to it was a data tape, a compressed version of the latest findings about the Institute. While the Railroad was the first beneficiary of the intelligence stolen during my trip underground, I insisted that the other factions be kept informed. Tom had hesitantly cobbled together a report, forestalling the need to scan my Pip-Boy.
"Stay moving," was the advice from Deacon, when Desdemona gave us the ultimatum: clear out and stay away from the Railroad headquarters until we were contacted again. "Get out of the center of Boston; that's where the message we intercepted was sending the topside agents to look for you. The farther away, the faster, the better. I wish we could hide you here, but we just can't take that chance; you're too much of a liability right now. With MacCready's expertise in Wasteland survival you'll be okay. Don't use your Pip-Boy unless you absolutely have to, but keep an eye on it. We'll contact you as soon as it's safe to do so. And if you can find a way home," he had lowered his sunglasses to give me a rare forthright look. "Take it. You have to stay out of the Institute's hands, for all of our sakes."
Fair enough, as far as it went, though the sudden perfidy from the Railroad's leadership left a bad taste in my mouth. At least they helped gear us up before slamming the door in our faces, I thought a little bitterly. MacCready had not taken the dismissal as well as I had, which wasn't well at all, and he had nearly gone after Desdemona when she laid out the initial ultimatum. I had to order him to stand down in a quiet, commanding hiss, suggesting quite strongly that he use his legendary haggling prowess to get us properly armed and geared up before we stepped out the door. His angry growl had transformed into a predatory grin and he had stalked off to confront both Tinker Tom and Deacon.
I don't know the specifics, but MacCready must've had one hell of a harangue for those two about the Railroad's treatment of us. When we left, we not only had the aforementioned ballistic outfits, but rations, a good selection of chems, plenty of ammunition, and he had traded in my combat shotgun and sniper for a new rifle. It fired 5.56 ammo, the same as my old Army M4, but it had been upgraded by Tom himself with not only a silencer, but a double-feed system that effectively boosted the amount of damage I could do by firing two rounds for every squeeze of the trigger. "I hadn't forgotten the bet we made back in Goodneighbor," he explained when he handed it to me. "One weapon; a 'really good one,' as you requested."
Dabbing at the moisture in my eyes at his thoughtfulness, I gratefully took it and replied, "Thank you, MacCready. Though I already have the best gun in the Commonwealth at my back." He grinned in response, gesturing for me to take the lead.
We were headed to Boston Airport as fast as we could move. I wanted to make sure that we still had the Brotherhood of Steel on our side. Since Danse knew I had been kidnapped, and was certain I was not going to return, I needed to reassure him that I had escaped. He was most likely still on the Prydwen, giving an after-action review to his superiors. Also, the Brotherhood might know of a power source unavailable to the Railroad that could be sufficient to send me home. I felt the obligation to inform Maxson of the latest intelligence we had gathered, to help in their fight against the Institute and maybe, just maybe, sway his opinion on the rogue Synths. It may have been a predictable move to head there first, but if we could get aboard the Prydwen they could transport us away from the center of Boston via vertibird much faster than we could move on foot.
All of these thoughts swirled chaotically in my head as we determinedly crossed north, passing a few blocks away from the still-empty Bunker Hill monument. The battle had left new scars even as far away as our line of travel, burns and fresh craters littering the concrete of the road and the brick walls of the tumbledown buildings. Rather than take the time to examine the rubble as we might have done in the past, we decided to move on through, relying heavily on our disguises to protect us from identification. I followed MacCready's lead, focusing on moving as quickly as possible.
"No, Boss," he murmured out of the corner of his bandanna-wrapped mouth, "you're mincing your steps too much. Walk more like you're about to brain the next thing you see with the butt of your rifle. Get angry."
I adjusted my stride again, trying to follow his directions to appear more like a dangerous raider than a clumsy out-worlder running scared from unseen bogeymen. My footsteps crunchingly echoed from the brick walls on either side of the broken street. Behind the cover of my own bandanna, I gritted my teeth, trying to feel anger instead of fear-laced dread.
"Better," my partner admitted, "but you don't have to stomp. We don't want to make that much noise." He was pacing along with his usual predatory stalk, lithe and dangerous, yet covering ground deceptively fast.
I studied his movements, trying to mimic the controlled swing of his legs and the slight roll of his shoulders into each step, the formidable power lightly controlled, ready to swing into battle at a moment's notice. If nothing else, I'm going to get a great workout trying to move like he does. After a few more blocks, when we skirted around the edge of the waterline to head more directly to our goal, I glanced over for a progress report.
"You look more balanced, at least," he commented lightly. "Dunno about 'dangerous', though. You might be a bit too cute for that." While I couldn't see his grin, MacCready's eyes crinkled up in merriment. He was nearly unrecognizable in his new outfit; patched jeans and a threadbare plaid shirt covered by a waist-length black leather jacket. A battered and squashed fedora completed his transformation. But the lithe movements were the same, and I felt a familiar flutter in my chest watching him step nimbly through the debris.
"I don't know if I'll ever master the 'don't fuck with me' vibes that Deacon says you project so well." I said through the blush heating my face. I'll take 'cute', if it means he's going to watch my back.
"Ha. He sees that 'so well' because I don't want him to fuc-errr, mess with me. I don't trust that guy at all, Boss. He's hiding something."
"Oh, now that's the... uhhh..." I tried to think of an appropriate metaphor, "That's the deathclaw calling the yao guai 'dangerous'." His chuckle brought a smile to my face. "Everyone has secrets, as you were kind enough to tell me way back when we first met."
"True enough, Boss, but there's a difference between wanting to stay professional and pretending to be someone else all the time." He sidled over to nudge his shoulder against mine. "I have no trouble telling the truth... or letting someone I trust, like you, know more about me."
We marched on in companionable peace until we reached an entire section of the road that was flooded and nearly impassable. There was no way to traverse the area without wading, and my companion's distaste for getting wet was mirrored by my own reluctance. We still have a ways to go, and I don't fancy traipsing into the Brotherhood's arms reeking of irradiated water and who-knows-what rotting below the surface. The slight ripples dancing in the breeze taunted us, daring us to brave the uncertain footing beneath the murky obstacle ahead. I sighed in surrender and poked a boot tip into the water.
"You serious right now, Boss?" MacCready stood at the very edge of the flooded crossroads, reluctance written in every line of his lean frame. "You know I hate getting wet."
"Got any better ideas?" I asked, a little nettled. I didn't like it either, but we'd never get there if we didn't cross the road. I was going to suggest that a little water wouldn't kill him, but then I thought better of it, remembering the mirelurks from the coast. "We need to cross, Mac." When he still didn't move, I taunted him a little, "Want me to carry you?" Lifting my voice, I sang a line from "his" song, "Come, sit on my shoulders and ride..."
He barked a laugh. "Now there's an idea! Naw, Boss, I don't think you'd be able to carry me." He eyed the murky water with obvious distaste.
Irritated at the delay, I stalked over to him ("Yeah, that's how you need to walk, Boss!") and shoved my rifle into his surprised hands, quickly popping a Rad-X into my mouth. Turning away from him, I swung my pack around to the front of my own matching black jacket, and crouched down a little, bracing myself. "C'mon, you irrepressible jerk. Get on. If I could carry my old First Sergeant in a combat aid training exercise, I can certainly carry your scrawny ass across the damn street."
"M'not scrawny..." Apparently, MacCready was perceptive enough to realize when he had pushed things a bit too far. Taking a moment to sling both weapons over his shoulder, he quietly accepted my offer to give him a piggyback ride across the flooded crossroads. Other than an impressed exclamation when I stood and started forward, he kept quiet, shifting his weight slightly to help me keep my own balance as I trudged across the flooded expanse. It actually felt almost heartening to carry him, doing something to make life just a little easier for him. He had done so much for me that this one little thing, carrying him over a water-covered street, seemed almost a pittance in repayment. Ah, well. It also proves I can carry him if the need ever arises. Besides, it's a nice excuse to feel him pressing against me. I smiled a little, reveling in the feel of his grip, his warm body against my back, the tiny delighted chuckle he voiced as we moved further into the water.
At one point the water was up past my thighs, and MacCready hitched himself up as high as he possibly could on my shoulders, trying to stay dry. "You sure you got this, Boss?" he asked in a slightly worried tone.
"Yeah," I grunted, slowing down to feel my footing. The water tingled, and I bet my Pip-Boy was probably making one heck of a racket about the radiation. "It's a little easier actually, with the water to buoy me. Try to stay still!" I pleaded as he scrunched his legs up higher. "I'm doing the best I can!"
"To your left, Boss," he suggested, spying a less destroyed section of asphalt where I could make an ascent, leaving the flooded road behind.
Once out of the water, MacCready hopped off my shoulders in a much happier state of mind. "Thanks, Boss! You're welcome to lug me across the water anytime!"
"Better?" I asked with a little smile, trying to squeegie some of the odorous water from my clothes. My socks were probably going to be a lost cause, and I dearly hoped the Brotherhood of Steel had laundry facilities on that monstrosity of a dirigible. "Let's keep moving."
"Hold up," MacCready pulled me aside into a partially standing storefront. "Not like that, you're not." Leading me to the back of the building, he set both our packs down, rummaging though them until he had pulled out a small towel, a spare pair of non-armored trousers, and socks. "Here, don't want you to catch a chill. I can't do anything about your boots, though. Now you see why I don't like getting wet? Do you need RadAway?"
"Thanks. Yes. Not yet?" I would have said more, but the sound of footsteps passing by outside caused us both to stifle our movements, crouching against the back corner wall and listening intently. Murmured conversation, the metallic rattle of a weapon against armor, and sloshing footsteps accompanied by a louder complaint... the sounds of several people, possibly a patrol of some sort, faded slowly from our hearing. Once out of earshot, we both let out a relieved sigh.
"That," MacCready said, "was lucky. I don't know who they were, but I'm all for avoiding getting shot." He stood back up, holding out the towel. "Let's get you dried off a little, hmm?"
Feeling a little better after the assisted toweling and dry clothes, I tried to ignore the incipient blisters caused by my sodden boots as we continued making our way towards the airport. Aware that there were probably other people around aside from the patrol we heard, we kept in cover as much as possible, finally catching sight of the Brotherhood's fortified gate beyond the next set of buildings. By unspoken agreement, we paused just out of sight to discuss our options.
"You sure you want to do this, Boss?" MacCready asked again, peering around the corner of the last building between us and the gate guarded by an armed Knight in full power armor. "We could just find a spot around here to bunker down for a day or two."
"As tempting as your offer is, Mac, you told me Danse thought I was pretty much a goner. I need to show him otherwise." Digging through my own pack, I fished out the Pip-Boy from my damp trousers, unwrapping the device from its protective lead covering. "And who knows? Maybe they have a power source strong enough to... to, send me home." The last few words felt like chewing dry toast, they were so hard to say. Why? I want to go home, don't I? "In any case, I need to make sure the Brotherhood is still on our side."
He snorted. "As much 'our side' as they can be, anyway. I still think you're too optimistic about them." Turning around, he saw my preparations and his eyes widened. "What are you doing?!"
"Optimistic, yes." I explained, attaching the Pip-Boy to my arm. The slight electrical pulse along my nerves felt almost comforting. "Not stupid, or overly trusting." I met MacCready's dubious look with a resolution I felt in my bones. "You know I'm the only one who can remove it. This way, not only do I have proof of my identity, but the Brotherhood can't confiscate this for their own uses." At his continued silent stare, I added, gesturing to my Pip-Boy, "It's only for when we're under Brotherhood protection. I doubt even the Institute would dare come up against a fortified encampment when their troops are so few in number right now. And if we move fast enough, we can be across the length of the Commonwealth in Sanctuary before they even realize we're here!"
For a long moment, my partner stood there, looking pensive. Finally, he nodded. "Got it. All right, you have thought things through." He swept me into a quick hug, murmuring, "And this is why I love you, angel. Optimism reinforced with thorough planning and careful thought... all backed by a hot-headed merc who's the best shot in the Wasteland."
I laughed quietly, landing a bandanna-wrapped kiss on his cheek. "I love you too, RJ. Now, let's go meet with the Brotherhood."