The Commonwealth
April the 22nd, 2289
8:07
Somehow, the factory floor was in much worse a state of disrepair than any of them had anticipated.
No stranger to sites looking difficult to comb through, the Scribe simply let out a tired sigh, still sleepy from several long nights of scouting and staking out the facility. Though loathe to admit it, the Knight was beginning to feel the same way; the aching of his limbs a testament to it. A little irritated by their surroundings, the Paladin tried not to dwell on the mess and mayhem and instead on their successful put down of a small force of robots running rampant in the lobby. It was a start, and, he reckoned, at least partially explained the state of the factory floor. These robots seem to eat each other alive. That may prove beneficial to us. Fearing complacency, the Paladin paused at the top of the first set of stairs up to the catwalk overlooking the factory floor. Seeing the Scribe was already dutifully taking notes and logging a few items of interest, he smiled a little to himself under the helm of his power armour. It faded when he noticed their odd 'companion' – if the machine could be called such – was attempting to investigate some of the rubble. His discomfort eased only when, upon being called to follow after the Knight, the machine obeyed immediately.
Taking another look over the factory floor below him, the Paladin frowned, a pair of heavy doors broken down and pinned down by the remains of a conveyer belt. Seeing no other way to cross deeper into the facility than through the rubble, the Paladin ordered his Knight to begin moving enough of the rubble to make it passable. It was only after a minute of hesitation did the Paladin order the machine to assist the Knight so as to speed up the progress of the rubble removal. I don't like that machine's insistence on being spoken to as if having a human name. If it refused to acknowledge it is a machine, then it would be an abomination plain and simple but the...slight signs of 'sentience' or 'autonomy' are considerably concerning and muddy the lines. After another few minutes passed with only the screeching and scraping sounds of metal brushing and sliding against metal, the Paladin descended from the vantage point and approached his Scribe, still taking notes. When he felt assured she was doing her job as prescribed and with the same meticulous precision as always, the Paladin made for the Knight and the machine. Relieved to be no longer alone in the task with the machine, the Knight offered the Paladin a polite nod when his superior officer began to help him lift several larger pieces of rubble up and out of the way.
"The state of this place is similar to the one our Brothers and I found ArcJet Systems in shortly after our arrival in the Commonwealth," The Knight darkly noted. "I was sceptical of our ability to retrieve what we had been sent out there to, and I hope my...trepidations about doing so here will be proven wrong as they were previously."
"If we are not able to find this 'radar beacon' the automaton informed us of, then I suspect Proctor Quinlan will still be satisfied if we are able to find and bring him any useful artefacts or technical documentations," The Paladin replied with a wary look at the machine moving rubble with him and the Knight. "I believe Scribe Haylen has already retrieved a decent bit of information he'll be pleased to receive."
"She has," The Knight confirmed. "She provided me a brief overview after she finished the report on what we – and, of course, you, Paladin Danse – retrieved from the former consumer electronics gallery. It appears the corporation that owned the building may have been involved with the US Federal Government at the time of the War and just before it."
"Fascinating," Danse said mildly. "I'll be curious to know if anything substantial comes out of what we retrieved. Far too often, things that look promising don't end up panning out, so I hope luck holds up for us. We need every advantage we can get."
"Yes, we do," Rhys agreed with a disdainful glance at their 'companion.' "Should we be able to pass through here in both directions, unit? Or do we need to flatten out the incline more?"
"Moving as much of the rubble away as possible would be prudent," Their companion replied. "It will improve the ease at which we can go to and from each side of the factory floor significantly. The probability of needing to return to the building's entrance on this side upon our exit from the facility is high. Removal of the rubble will also prevent injury if a sudden, swift exit becomes necessary."
"Then let's make short work of it," Rhys gruffly ordered. "We don't have time to waste here."
"Correct, Knight," Danse said, lifting up a large part of the conveyer belt with Rhys' support. "Our primary mission in the Commonwealth still stands."
"Paladin?" The Scribe called out as she slowly moved towards him, the Knight, and their 'companion,' still logging a few items. "I believe much of the scrap here would be useful in the repairment or construction of weapons and, potentially, power armour. Should I make a note of it for a recovery and research patrol to comb through later?"
"Yes, Scribe Haylen," Danse said with a short nod when their gazes crossed. "I suspect there are at least a handful of useful artefacts to be harvested here. Mark this place for sweep and retrieve."
"Understood," Haylen dutifully replied. "Thank you, sir."
Returning to her noting and logging, the Scribe only paused when she noticed, in her periphery, a small but passable space was nearly emerged from the rubble. She raised an eyebrow upon seeing their strange, robotic 'companion' seemed to have been making short work of it with the assistance of the Paladin and the Knight. I didn't think this machine would be all that useful beyond offering us potential leads to the so called Mechanist. Keeping it around may be worthwhile after all. Setting down her bags for a moment to ensure they remained organised as she logged and collected a few more items on the factory floor, the Scribe smiled when she saw the pleased look on the faces of the Paladin and the Knight upon, finally, having moved enough of the rubble out of the way to safely pass through and into the other half of the factory floor. The second she was finished with her work, she slung her bags back over her shoulders and started towards the other half of the factory floor to join the Paladin and the Knight. A hint of unease prodded at her when she passed by their robotic 'companion,' but she quickly pushed it aside. It being now clear both sides of the factory floor were in an equal state of disrepair, the Scribe began up a set of stairs to the second level of the factory, only a few feet behind the Paladin and the Knight, and drew her gun upon hearing the movement of, what she was sure to be, a rather large robot coming from above.
Just as suspicious of the noise as the Scribe, the Paladin and the Knight moved quickly towards it upon crossing the threshold into the second level of the factory. For a moment, they paused when they saw nothing but damaged and destroyed robots around them, the same as down below. It was only when they rounded a corner and grew closer to a partially open door into an apparent storage room they were able to identify the source of the noise. When they did, they were dumbstruck. Trapped by the door and struggling to get itself unstuck was a very large robot on tracked wheels, one of its perpetually bent mechanical arms pinning it against the doorframe, the other half falling off. The closer they got to it, the more unsettled they felt until, finally, facing it directly, they were able to see its full construction. The Knight, against his will, gagged at the sight. Similarly, though a little more restrained, the Paladin let out a disgusted gasp, aggressively waving the Scribe over to where he and the Knight were already stood. Upon reaching them, she grimaced at the sight of that had caught their attention. By its sturdy construction alone, it was evidently pre-War but the grotesque sight of a human brain with a large metal eye between its lobes and suspended in the domed top of the robot was the most disquieting. Seeing a flashing beacon just behind the domed 'head,' the Paladin acted quickly and shot through the dome. It quickly secreted the suspension fluid, and the Paladin and the Knight pushed the robot through the door, entering the room. The Knight then shot through the robot a few times for good measure, and, then, stepped aside to let the Scribe inspect the still blinking beacon.
"Think this is what we're looking for," She observed, only pausing to look up upon hearing the clanging and clunky sounds of a robot coming near. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw it was only their 'companion.' "Radar beacon?"
"Yes," Their robotic companion said when the Paladin and the Knight granted it passage over to where the Scribe was working. "As I told you I posited on the way here, this must be what the Mechanist's robots are commanded by. I lament my failure to foresee this beyond an educated guess but at least we now have a potential lead towards the Mechanist, by luck or not."
The Paladin raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"I suspect a beacon such as this is how the Mechanist was keeping track of this robot here," Their companion explained. "As the next logical step, I suggest you install this beacon on me so we can use it to our advantage."
"We will consider doing so. Scribe Haylen, please secure that beacon for transport," The Paladin said before turning back to their robotic companion. "Have you ever seen a robot such as this before, unit?"
"No, but I believe this machine matches with a type of robot my old caravan uncovered records of while we were scavenging military facilities," Their companion said. "According to my data banks, it's called the 'robobrain.' It was considered one of the most technologically superior robots ever constructed, however no models ever reached full production status."
"Fascinating," The Paladin said mildly. "Well. It appears we have quite a bit of disassembling and logging to do. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can be out of here."
"Yes, sir," The Knight said with a polite nod. "We shall do so with haste."
𑁋￮✦￮𑁋
Railroad Headquarters
April the 27th, 2289
18:33
"Nearly every time we've spotted a Courser, death and destruction have followed. This is going to be the first time we've ever gone after one. Very rarely, you'll meet a Courser like Glory, who turned her back on the Institute and, even of former Coursers, she's truly unique."
Whether Desdemona noticed or not while she kept speaking, the more she spoke of the Institute's best trackers and, in particular, Glory, the more difficult Nora Jacqueline Norwich found it to bite her tongue. Best she could, she tried to tell herself it was unreasonable to get annoyed, and unproductive. The faces Cait made, sat beside her, she told herself, did more than enough for the both of them. Keep pretending you're in the courtroom, and you're listening to a pushy defence attorney. Sooner or later, they won't be able to keep dancing around the questions and will get back to business. Though the time away from them feels nicer by the minute... Her eyes narrowed when she saw Deacon saunter into the main room of the crypt, a bit of sway to his steps as he walked down the stairs. An anxious young man in ratty clothes shut and locked the door behind them. Yawning and loosely draping one arm over Nora's shoulders, Cait half leaned onto the former lawyer who, for a few seconds, faintly smiled and did not push her away. It was seeing the slightly smug glint in Glory's eyes, however, that finally snapped the former lawyer's ever thinning patience.
"You know," Nora said, her eyes narrowing. "You could do with being a little less self congratulatory about having left the Institute and be a little more active in getting me what I need to get into the Institute. Unless you'd like to come with, of course."
"Not a chance in hell," Glory hissed. "I left those bastards for a reason, and I will never go back or risk causing another synth to have to be –"
"You don't have to worry about that, Glory," Desdemona calmly said, briefly resting a hand on the woman's shoulders. "Many synths owe you their lives, a few other former Coursers included."
Nora frowned. "If so very few Coursers leave, how many of them have you ever come across trying to do so?"
Desdemona considered that. "We had one last January. She's since been safely escorted out of the Commonwealth and gone southwest towards the Mojave. A few years before that, we had a pair of them that chose to forgo the mind wipe – they left the Institute because they had fallen in love with each other – and were safely escorted by our agents south towards a place called 'Myrtle's Beach.'"
"Most of the synths we help – whether they go through the Memory Den or not – head south," Deacon added, winking at Carrington when he elbowed past him to get something out of a refrigerator. "A lot of them stay in the former Capital for a while, but the ones who forgo the mind wipes tend to go farther south than there or farther west. We've been sending a lot more of them out west recently."
"Because of the Brotherhood?" Nora surmised. "Aren't there other Brotherhood troops out west?"
"Yes, but, because they're not looking for nor would they have the means to recognise a synth, they're less of a threat to them and us," Desdemona said, pausing a few seconds in thought. "The division of the Brotherhood in the Commonwealth – and on the majority of the East Coast – are unfortunately a serious threat to the lives of any escaped synths they come across. I would be more worried about an escaped synth being intercepted by them than by the Institute."
"Their fate is nearly the same," Glory said, anger rising in her again. "At least the Brotherhood have the decency to put an end to their misery rather than take away everything that makes someone who they are and put them back to either hunting other synths or doing the work the Institute doesn't want to."
"Perhaps but..." Desdemona shook her head. "The approach we have to take towards the Institute and the Brotherhood are the same. The Institute and the Brotherhood Of Steel are our enemies, and there's no possibility of peace."
"Lovely," Cait said wryly. "Going to keep telling us about them Coursers?"
"Charmingly to the point," Deacon said, coming towards them, a Nuka Cola now in hand. "But, shit, come to think of it, my last encounter with a Courser working for the Institute was...probably three or four years ago and it was nasty. Although one of the best ways to tell whether or not a Courser might still be with the Institute is how they talk. The ones trying to leave tend to stutter and have a hard time processing things around them. The ones still with them, though? Damn."
"He's not wrong," Desdemona said, sending him a pointed look when he nearly exploded his drink open after twirling it in his hands. "A Courser working for the Institute will, though their voices are, like any person's, unique, speak in almost the same cadence and tone as a first or second generation synth."
Nora raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"It's a...we all talked that way," Glory said, her voice quieting. "In the Institute, we always...no synth – not the ones like us, the...human like ones – naturally talks the way Coursers do. It's something we learn during training. To view synths who escape as being ashamed of being a synth and delusional about what it makes them. Talking robotically makes it painfully clear what we are...and it was something of a source of pride because we were the best. The smartest, fastest...and we had also proven it."
"It also intimidates the people of the Commonwealth," Desdemona said, running her hands through her hair. "Most people never have and never will come into contact with one, but those who do and survive typically live the rest of their lives terrified of the Institute, even more so than most people already do."
"Looked the monster under the bed right in the eyes," Cait scoffed. "They're still just synths. Might give people the creeps but a few shots from me shotgun and that fear will be long gone."
Glory scowled at her. "You're underestimating them. If you take that attitude towards this, you're going to get yourself killed."
"Seeing as just about everything in me life has tried to put me in the ground and failed, I'd like to see one try," Cait said, letting Nora go and standing up. "I've looked death in the face plenty of times, and not always for me self."
"Going after a Courser is a lot bigger than any fights you've gotten in before, or won at the Combat Zone," Deacon cautioned her. "You know those dumb, laser shooting robots from before the War that gunners like? The 'assaultrons?' Coursers make them look weak."
"Might as well use them as practise dummies, then," Cait replied, cracking her knuckles. "Kellogg was a pretty good start too, don't you think?"
"Certainly got what he deserved," Deacon half heartedly agreed, sitting down at the centre table with Nora, Desdemona, and Glory. "Can't believe it took us so damn long to learn his name. He'd been public enemy number one for us for years until we learnt his name by accident. All we knew for a long time was an elusive Institute agent who wasn't a Courser was really good at ruining things for us. Wouldn't be shocked if it turned out he was the one who came up with the ambush at Switchboard."
"Given how long the Institute kept him alive and what I know they used him for, I'd believe it," Nora said, crossing her arms with a dark edge to her voice. "He was barely even human."
"That's not what made him a monster," Glory defiantly replied. "What he –"
"Seeing as you're supposed to stay the hell out of my way when all of you stop playing games with me," Nora briefly raised a hand to silence her, narrowly glancing at Desdemona. "And that you aren't human, I think I'm a better judge of the human condition than you."
"I know what I'm talking about," Glory said coldly. "He was a monster because he got pleasure out of hurting other people – human and synth. What he was or what kept him alive isn't what made him that way. He already was a monster, and that comes from within."
"And I know what I saw," Nora said, trying to keep her voice steady and twining her hands in and out of each other. "But I'm tired of arguing with you," She turned to Desdemona. "You said your...tinkerer made progress on identifying the 'Courser signal' on the EM spectrum?"
"Yes," Desdemona said, whispering something to Glory that, to the former lawyer's surprise, got her to leave the room, heading towards the very back of the crypt before disappearing around a corner. "Tom! Could you come here, please?"
"Right on it, Des!" The eccentric inventor said, pulling up the myriad of contraptions on his headgear. "Just finished a new programme for analysing Courser chips last night, fixed from what mistakes we made last time."
Nora frowned. "How likely is it the analysis will fail and we'll have to go after another Courser after we nab the first one?"
"Only around thirty two percent, now," Tom reassuringly replied. "But that number should be lower once you find and kill it, the specifics of which I've got just about figured out."
"Alright," Nora said warily. "Why has it taken you so long to do so? I thought making a radio interceptor wouldn't take very long."
"It wasn't the making of the radio interceptor that took me a while, just adapted it from a few pre-War radios we've collected over the years. It was making the additional devices to scan the rest of the EM spectrum in tandem with the radio, because radio wavelengths are at the bottom of the spectrum," Tom said, sitting down beside Desdemona in place of Glory. "I also needed to identify the constant variable that is the carrier signal on all my instruments instead of the general, brief interference from what we're guessing to be the Institute popping their little hunters out of the ground like mole rats."
Cait snickered. "If Coursers were as abundant as mole rats, think we'd have killed several by now."
"Or killed us," Tom said, looking unsettled at the notion. "So, I wasn't sure if it was going to pan out but that Institute scientist you found was right about their 'Relay' causing interference all the way across the EM – electromagnetic – spectrum. Pinpointing the spot on the spectrum that lingers the longest and occurs consistently enough to most likely be a Courser was difficult, because I had to do additional research and work to account for the entire spectrum rather than just the radio level."
"But you've managed to do so now?" Nora pressed. "Please tell me you have."
"I think so. The hardest part in all of it was differentiating between the high spectrum interference and low spectrum interference. I'd been betting the main signal would be somewhere in the middle, anywhere between infrared and visible blue light," Tom explained. "I hadn't taken readings for anything higher on the spectrum than ultraviolet light in ages, and I wanted to make sure the Institute weren't messing with us in the trenches. Turned out, after a lot of checking, the lingering signal – the one that indicates a Courser – is on the ELF end, better known as the 'extremely low frequency' end."
Nora raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean in practical terms? For hunting down a Courser, that is."
"It means you're going to need to identify and track one using a specialised device capable of maintaining a scan of that part of the spectrum," Tom said, sighing when Cait groaned. "I think I'm almost done with that. It'll be in your hands and ready to go with you, Deacon and – uh – Glory, now we've convinced her it's necessary, to hunt one down the second it's reliably operational. Working with frequencies so low has been difficult. It might not sound like a lot, but the space between frequencies at three to thirty hertz is massive."
"Massive?" Cait said, eyeing him strangely. "How big are we talking?"
"Those frequencies correspond with wavelengths of a hundred thousand to ten thousand kilometres," Tom told her, trying to mask his excitement in discussing the topic. "It took over a hundred years, leading up to the War, for the pre-War scientists to be able to scale down the size of a machine able to catch the transmissions. But, damn, they were motivated to make communicating with their submarines easier, and these were one of the few options capable of penetrating seawater."
"Fascinating as that is, how are we supposed to follow a signal so low?" Nora sceptically asked. "Getting frequencies so low up to audio frequency ranges would be no easy task."
"By raising the pitch of the signal after identification," Tom said. "I know it all sounds like a lot, but it'll make sense once I can give you a hand using it the first time. Don't worry, you'll be out there hunting a Courser soon and this thing is going to be how you track it."
"I fucking hope so," Nora muttered to Cait under her breath. "Because I'm not in the mood to play games with this any longer."
𑁋￮✦￮𑁋
The Commonwealth
May the 1st, 2289
11:42
After just shy of fifty years since falling into disrepair and out of the hands of the Minutemen, finding the Castle and, most surprisingly, the old radio transmitter station in the centre of the courtyard in even passable condition was quite the shock, albeit a good one.
The same could also be said when, after a few seconds of shock, they realised the place was almost completely clear of infestations of wildlife despite being so close to the water.
Pleased but still a bit wary, the General of the Minutemen entered the Castle's courtyard first, his gun drawn in case it became necessary to open fire. Short on his heels were his right hand man, detective Nicholas Julius Valentine, Eleanor Marie Perkins, Sturges Presley, and a small troop of Minutemen who quickly began to work on analysing the scene. The carcasses of a few mirelurks were scattered about, and a few clutches of their eggs were smashed to bits, yet none of the pesky crustaceans in sight were alive. The first across the courtyard and to the water, Sturges Presley stopped short, stunned to see only a few dead mirelurks washed up on the shore, and what looked to be a rather large one nearly sunk, barely sticking up and out of the water. Letting out a sigh with his hands resting on the hefty tool belt on his hips, the meticulously skilled mechanic lingered and watched for a minute, something about the scene feeling wrong. Still, when it became clear it was safe to do so, he turned back towards the courtyard, walking over to join Preston, Derek, and Nick at the centre by the surprisingly intact old radio transmission station. Looking over it at a glance, his eyebrows raised in disbelief at its condition, a sentiment, based on the looks on their faces, shared by his companions.
"You know, for a site we've only been able to look at from afar for nearly fifty years, it's in pretty damn good shape," Sturges said, rolling his shoulders back. "Think it's crazy it was a little less than two years ago we were trying to get back on our feet in Sanctuary, marking the Castle as an aspirational place to one day reclaim."
"The shape it's in is remarkable," Nick said with a slight frown. "From the outside, anyways. I'm sure your men sweeping and clearing the bastions, tunnels, and walls will find a heck of a lot needing fixed, but the fact there's not much resistance here? It's a goddamn miracle."
"Or a warning sign," Derek cautiously said. "I told our men to make sure, as they inspect and sweep the grounds, to check for anything that could potentially be a bug or tracker. Things being this clean here has me worried. Our scouts indicated it being in a decent state to be relatively recent, and this is even better than what we thought it would be. I'm concerned the Brotherhood might be up to something here. Unfortunately, I can't put anything past them at this point."
"Never thought I'd feel sorry for the Institute, but I agree," Nick said darkly. "Ellie's got her eyes peeled, probably going to find something during the search. She's got hawk eyes...but if anyone could fool them, it would be the Brotherhood or the Institute, though I think we all know who'd be interested in this place, and sure as hell ain't the Institute."
"Wouldn't have anything to gain from it," Sturges agreed, kneeling down to continue his inspection of the transmission system. "The tech here is far from anything the Institute would be interested in. They'd probably call it primitive, and I don't think they're interested in historical site preservation."
"Agreed though, all things considered, if most of our issues are structural and defencive and not a result of the site being overrun, that's good news for us," Preston said with a small smile. "I never thought I'd see the day I'd be standing here, let alone as the General of the Minutemen, but I couldn't be happier about it."
"We'll have to fix up the ballistic defences and artillery, as well as clean the place up, too, but it really is in pretty damn good shape," Sturges said. "We'll need to keep our eyes wide open with the local wildlife, though. Them mirelurks don't go away too easy, and, even if this decent sized colony has been exterminated for now, they tend to come back if they ain't kept away."
"Some of the grossest creatures in the Commonwealth," Nick said with a slight grimace. "I know a lot of people who won't go too near the water because of them, and I can't say I blame them for it. Pretty sure even Natalie Wright of all people is cautious of them."
"Way Piper tells it, that's because Pete Pembroke once chased her down the streets of the city with a dead mirelurk hatchling," Derek chuckled, dusting off his glasses on the sleeve of his coat. "Ada is the only one of my kids that doesn't go out of her way to avoid them. I think she still aspires to be like Harkness. Hads and I suspect he probably let her play with his gun a few times without our permission when she was six or seven, albeit under strict supervision."
"Ada is headstrong, no doubt about it," Preston said, walking around to the other side of the radio transmitter. "Heard her complaining Lissy and Piper's friend – MacCready – is apparently no fun anymore. I'm almost scared to know what that means."
"By accident, while playing with firecrackers, Lissy, May, RJ, and Lucy – RJ's then girlfriend and his son's mother – set Arthur Maxson's hair on fire. They were fifteen, Lucy was sixteen, and May, who really should have known better, was seventeen," Derek told him, unable to mask his amusement. "Arthur was thirteen, and Hads made them bake him an apology cake. They wrote 'sorry we set you on fire' on it. So, really, anything less is probably a let down to Ada."
"They set the current leader of the Brotherhood's hair on fire?" Nick laughed. "Certainly makes me feel better about the fact the man's a lunatic."
Derek sighed. "Arthur has had people whispering in his ears, telling him who he's supposed to be since he was a child. I can't fully blame him for the man he's become. I was dismayed to learn, despite him having married and, by all accounts, become a father himself, he personally ordered Madison and Jacqueline's kidnapping. I couldn't be more disappointed, I really couldn't."
"Could have sworn I heard you apologising on their behalf to MacCready's girl," Sturges said, standing up. "Things look to be in working order, though it beats me as to how," He told Preston before turning back to the former Knight Captain. "What was that all about?"
"Seeing as it's rather personal, I'll keep it brief, but, firstly, with respect to RJ..." Derek shook his head. "He's a good kid, and losing Lucy, by all accounts, was devastating to him, especially because of their having a son together. Between her death, being a parent, and finding someone like Annette who, far as I can see, loves him and is stepping up to be there for his son, he's less impulsive than he used to be, and I truly think she's part of that."
"You and Hadley definitely seem to see him like he's your own son," Preston smiled. "It's admirable."
"He might as well be. As for Annette, God if I don't feel terrible for her and for what the Brotherhood put her through," He paused, anger whispering at the edge of his voice. "As I was deployed for the vast majority of the last two years of the war with the Enclave and she was, as I understand it now, confined to the Citadel as one of Cade's civilian medical students, I'm not surprised I never met her, nor am I surprised my wife and children never met her. They were rarely at the Citadel, and, when they were, it would have been even rarer they would be in the medical wing. That said..."
Nick frowned. "Guessing this is one of those Brotherhood stories that ain't good."
"And you'd be right," Derek replied, struggling to maintain his composure. "As I've said before, one of their leaders – Proctor Keith Teagan – and I have never liked each other; he always thought I'm too stiff and, in his words, painfully polite and I've always thought he's self important and a poor, inattentive husband to his wife and, equally, a poor, inattentive father to his children. Learning Annette is the girl Cade asked me to defend while keeping her identity anonymous, at the time – privacy of course – because Keith raped her thrice...it infuriated me then and it infuriates me even more now I've met the girl he harmed."
"Holy hell," Sturges turned towards him, setting down a few of the tools he had pulled out to work on the transmitter. "That's vile."
"It truly is," Derek solemnly agreed. "I apologised to her for it on behalf of the Brotherhood...but it will never be enough. What he did to her is something indelibly painful, and, learning her father was the brilliant scientist Madison worked with on the water purification project...she's been through more tragedy than any one person deserves. I wasn't there, but when Madison told Hadley, with whom she had been friends for a long time, what happened to him, she broke down. I'd never known Madison as anything but strong and impervious but that – his murder – absolutely broke her."
Preston took off his hat, bowing his head and holding it against his chest.
"From what you've told us, over the years, the war against the Enclave was brutal. I can only imagine."
"He was murdered in cold blood, seemingly for nothing but show by one of the Enclave's highest military leaders. Knowing that – as well as the sacrifice of Sentinel Lyons – is one of many reasons why their defeat has never been truly satisfying," Derek paused, taking a step back when Sturges flipped the switch of the transmitter and static began coming through. "That's a good sign, isn't it? Are you able to tune the signal?"
"Working on it," Sturges happily replied, beginning to whistle to himself. "Don't know if anyone has taken up the band Radio Freedom used to be broadcast on, so it might take a good long while before we can get that up and running. Still, I think we should be able to –"
Dropping his tools, he took a step back, covering his ears when the static shifted to a loud, emergency broadcast tone. Just as startled, Preston dropped his hat and all but leapt back, Derek drew his shotgun, and Nick blinked rapidly, taken aback by the tone – pre-War, he was sure – in part due to how different it was from the nuclear siren.
"This is an emergency broadcast signal from Vault 88," The voice harshly jumped out of the far too loud speakers. "Authentication codeword IMPISH. Vault 88 emergency classification: unspecified integrity breach warning. Any available Vault-Tec personnel are required to respond under Emergency Protocol VT-76 to Vault 88, location, Quincy, specification, quarries. This signal will repeat. Vault-Tec Pip-Boy signals identified."
"Fucker!" Sturges exclaimed, having regained himself enough to go and turn down the volume and change the channel. "Shit, if that ain't..."
"Vault-Tec put a Vault under Quincy Quarries?" Preston looked between him, Nick, and Derek, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What the hell?"
"Will wonders never cease," Nick said dryly. "Vault-Tec put a Vault in the subway and a quarry? They were running out of ideas, weren't they?"
"I'm actually getting a notification on my Pip-Boy's map. Damn," Sturges let out a low whistle. "This looks pretty legitimate. You getting one on yours too, Derek?"
"I am," Derek said, glancing to him. "And I have to agree."
Preston considered that. "You think anyone's still down there?"
"Maybe," Sturges shrugged, letting out an excited war whoop when he latched the transmitter onto broadcasting from Diamond City radio. "If you all can keep things dandy here, I kind of want to go check it out."
"You going to be alright on your own?" Preston said, sweeping up his hat from where he had dropped it and setting it back on his head. "Alright, then," He shook Sturges' hand when the well experienced handyman nodded. "Good luck. Be careful and avoid Quincy proper. Last thing I want is to lose a man like you, Sturges."
"Don't worry," He confidently replied. "I've got this. Keep working with the transmitter, and I'll hopefully be able to send you an update from the place itself. If nothing else, it can't hurt to potentially find a good cache of supplies, especially with us rebuilding the Castle."
𑁋￮✦￮𑁋
The Institute
May the 4th, 2289
12:29
"No need to beat them, they've done nothing wrong. All you need to do is maintain a firm and steady grip while working with it."
Seeing Alice Thompson lighten up with the soldering iron, Jacqueline Rose Spencer found herself laughing a little, happier than she had been ready to say when, to her surprise, the Director himself had offered to let her coach her foster brother's team in their work for the end of term 'robot wars.' It was almost mind boggling, when she thought about it, that, after this term ended for the brief summer holiday, he would be off to fourth grade, and would turn ten in October. He was only six when we met. It's so strange how time flies! And Lily is almost one! I think she's more hyper and runs around even more than he does. Taking a small step back to observe the small group she was coaching, Jacqueline smiled. The Thompson twins, Alice and Julia, were giggling a little as they worked with Quentin, who was in better spirits than he had been in a long time. Natasha Karlin seemed to be in a good mood, too, in contrast to her usually shy and uneasy demeanour, lending her to seeming almost embarrassed by her older sister, a rising star in the SRB's psychiatry training, and scared of underperforming with her father being the second in command of the Bioscience Division. Her being in at least decent spirits was a good sign, too, and, reminding herself not to let slip she knew, of the boy beside her, his brother had finally worked up the courage to ask Rosalind out on a date, while Todd Volkert's almost infectious excitement was nearly impossible to top.
It was also, she realised, the first time in several years since she had done anything similar to what she had when she had been their age, albeit on the surface and, more often than not, with questionable scientific muster behind their 'experiments.'
"The laser eye is what's going to make us win," Alice told the others with a mischievous grin. "They aren't going to see it coming until our robot starts melting through their robot's brains."
Natasha shuddered. "I read about robots like these with organic brains in them once. Apparently some scientists before the War tried it and it didn't go very well."
"Yuck," Julia said, scrunching up her face. "Have we decided what we're going to call the robot yet? I want to call it the Mobile Omnidirectional Neutralisation and Termination Eradicator, like they called their fighting robot on that show daddy likes to watch about those pre-War scientists getting into mayhem at the old California Institute Of Technology."
"That's a mouthful," Quentin said, rolling his eyes. "Also why name it after something from a TV show? We can come up with something better."
"How about Your Doom?" Natasha half jokingly said, taking a look over the blueprint design the five of them had, after much bickering, decided upon. "Won't give away what it's capable of and can make them think twice about talking smack about us."
"Talking shit, you mean," Alice said, sticking her tongue out at her. "Jacq's cool."
"Just please don't say anything like that to Dr. Binet," Jacqueline said, though she smiled. "Or your parents. I don't want them to think I'm a bad influence on you."
"You make Quentin behave," Todd snickered. "Didn't think that was possible."
"Watch it," Quentin told him, waving a wrench in front of the other boy's face. "I might throw something at you."
"At least you weren't the one getting too aggressive with the soldering iron," Todd said, causing Alice to let out a yelp in surprise when he elbowed her. "You know, I think it's looking good, though."
"Yeah, because we've been working on this for almost a month," Julia reminded him. "Dr. Watson only recently approved our design. Said the first ones were too 'childish.'"
"Dr. Watson thinks just about everything is too childish. Glad to see other people agree."
Turning on her heel, Jacqueline rolled her eyes when Liam Binet and Brenden Volkert stepped into the classroom laboratory.
"Shouldn't you two be working on something?"
"Wanted to see how my little brother is doing," Brenden said, strong arming Todd into a hug and ruffling his hair. "You staying on task, little man?"
"Should be asking you that," Todd teased when he let him go, setting his hands to his hips. "Or are you slipping away from doing your work to go be a clueless flirt with Rosalind? I hope you aren't going to try and sing to her. Hearing your voice crack while trying to practise the other night might have scarred me for life."
Jacqueline laughed. "Are you making that up?"
"He's not," Brenden said, half seriously swatting at his little brother's arm. "I...apparently do not have the voice of an angel."
"You don't," Liam rolled his eyes. "I have perfect pitch, and even I wouldn't try whatever it was you thought you were doing."
"I've been reading a lot about opera, lately," Brenden almost sheepishly replied. "I thought it might fascinate her, especially if I could carry a tune of it. She's," He began, trying again. "Like a rose that's forever in bloom!"
"Are you trying to kill us?" Julia exclaimed, covering her ears until he stopped. "You sound like the first and second generation synths when they're malfunctioning."
"Remember when one of the first generation synths kept running into a wall the other week?" Natasha snickered. "It kept repeating 'stop resisting' and I couldn't help but start laughing. Dr. Zimmer didn't approve when she caught me."
"Caught us," Todd muttered. "You, me, and Mandy Ayo all got told off for it. Feel the worst for Mandy, though. Her dad probably let her have it. He's been all pissy since getting demoted."
"Which means everyone else has been in a much better mood," Liam joked. "Although, in all seriousness, I know my dad is glad Father put Justin in his place. He's the Institute's biggest bully."
"Still can't believe the Brotherhood killed Dr. Zimmer," Brenden said, though he thought better of it when Jacqueline startled. "Sorry. Know what happened to you and Dr. Li is still...pretty recent."
Jacqueline sighed. "Are you here to help or just to chat?"
"To pester me," Todd said, sending his brother a dark look. "We're working here, Brenden. Can you and Liam go find someone else to annoy?"
"If you answer us one question," Liam said, turning and smiling at Quentin. "Seems the five of you have a...precision, CNC, laser optic weapon planned for this thing."
"We do," Quentin replied with a grin. "Don't mess with science. We have lasers."
"Now, scat so they can work," Jacqueline said, opening the door for them from her tablet. "Don't pass any information on to the enemy! There's lots of other teams they'll have to beat if they want to win!"
"Teams of other nine and eight year olds," Brenden said with a smirk. "But message received. Good luck wrangling them."
Jacqueline rolled her eyes while seeing them out, shutting the door again before setting down her tablet to get back to supervising. Bossy as ever, Alice was all but barking orders at her sister and Todd, both of whom, surprisingly, listened, albeit sharing dark, mutinous looks every so often. Wonder if Janey and Lip ever made those faces about me. Much less subservient, Natasha fixed up her ponytail and went over to inspect their robot so far, then starting to test if its wheels were properly attached and aligned. Satisfied they were, she walked back over to where she had been working with Quentin in constructing their robot's laser eye. Laughing a little when she realised the design they had settled on was similar to that of the pre-War 'assaultron,' Jacqueline stepped over to see how they were doing. A little to her surprise, Quentin barely noticed her at first, almost completely focused on what he was doing and, still, working surprisingly well with Natasha. When he glanced up and saw her watching, he got a mischievous look in his eyes before setting down the halfway constructed laser to pull out a small, harmless one from the pocket of his jeans, pointing it at her feet and almost absentmindedly twirling it.
"Lily likes crawling and running after these," Quentin said with a shrug. "After we finish making this robot, I'm thinking I'll see if we can make a scaled down version of those Corvega cars they had before the War. Just with a normal battery and not a small fusion reactor as its power source."
"If you start driving your baby sister around the Institute, I want to see it," Alice told him, coming over to them with her hands on her hips. "And you know cats like to chase after lasers too."
Quentin smirked and waved it at her for a minute before clicking it off and dropping it back into his pocket.
"Finally convince your parents to let you have a cat?" He teased. "Or at least a synth cat?"
"Dr. Holdren lets me and Julia play with synth cats sometimes, now," She said, crossing her arms. "He says it's good for observing their socialisation in comparison to real cats."
"The Synth Zoological Initiative is crazy, sometimes. Cool, but crazy. I mean, look at the synth gorillas. Those are crazy," Natasha remarked. "Dad says Dr. Holdren is a little too proud of its success. Although he doesn't like him very much."
Jacqueline raised an eyebrow. "Really? Dr. Holdren's always nice, and super funny, too."
"Dad thinks he's too proud of his own position," Natasha said, looking annoyed. "Vicki and I are tired of hearing about it. I don't think he's going to convince anyone to let him replace Dr. Holdren either, no matter how badly he wants it."
"To be fair, Dr. Holdren can be really lenient...or just absentminded," Todd half heartedly said. "I mean, Quentin was able to sneak in and inject the gorillas with stimulants."
"Yeah, I did," Quentin winked. "And, sometimes, I hide my dad's work notes just to mess with him. It drives him crazy!"
Jacqueline affectionately ruffled his hair. "Don't let him find that out."
"I won't," Quentin innocently replied, though, when Natasha and Todd went back to work he lowered his voice and looked more serious. "This is fun, Jacq," He said quietly. "I think this...hands and hands thing is the kind of science I like. I think you were right. I'm not stupid."
"You're far from stupid," Jacqueline smiled when he briefly hugged her. "And I'm glad you're finally starting to see it."
𑁋￮✦￮𑁋
The Commonwealth
May the 9th, 2289
15:11
"This where they're hiding out?'
"Just up on the old interstate overpass. See that lift? We're going to have to take it up."
Rarely possible to faze, it took only a few seconds of looking up at the overpass and how much higher up it was from where the lift was on the ground for Vadim Bobrov to feel sick to his stomach. Heights. One of the few things capable of making him deeply uneasy, the typically cheerful bar owner tried not to dwell on it, keeping pace with his companions. A tinge of excited anticipation briefly sent away his nerves when he remembered why they were there. Revenge. It was something, he was starting to believe, Robert MacCready, Piper Wright, and Cait Felgate were quite skilled at. He paused, hesitating a moment when they reached the lift but soon stepped on, no more than a step behind Piper. The four of them aboard, Cait jabbed the button to send it up with her elbow, taking a few seconds to watch the ground slowly become farther and farther away. Trying not to dwell on his nerves, Vadim drew and ensured his M16 was loaded. When they reached the top and the lift ceased its ascent, he moved off as quickly as he could and on to the roadway; the farther from the edge, the better. Her spirits undampened, Cait almost flippantly readied the AR-18 she 'borrowed' from Rowdy, and only slowed down when she saw Piper and MacCready waving at her to fall back, not quite ready to declare their presence.
The noise of shouts and laughter up ahead, they moved slowly forward and, when an encampment came into sight on the horizon, they slipped behind one of the many large, steel support beams. Less than thrilled to see the sheer number of gunners awaiting them, Vadim squared his shoulders and steadied his hands around his gun, taking a step back when Piper began hissing in his, Cait, and MacCready's ears to be careful, sure she had spotted an assaultron in idle up ahead. Unwilling to take chances, MacCready drew his sniper rifle, pausing when he caught the mechanical menace in his sights. The central processing hardware of an assaultron is most heavily concentrated in the neck. Shoot the head off, and the robot should go down with it. Not unlike shooting a person in the neck, come to think of it. Only difference is the 'artery' of the assaultron is encased in metal. Hoping it was the only one his former employers had with them, MacCready locked the upper neck, where the robot was weaker, in on his sights. Piper breathed a temporary sigh of relief when she saw what he was doing, telling herself as much as him that the rest of the resistance they would encounter would be human. Ready and providing him cover, Vadim stepped in line with MacCready, aiming for the assaultron too.
Sure he wouldn't miss, he fired.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
In quick succession, Vadim fired on the assaultron too and, to their relief, the robot began breaking apart the second their bullets hit it. Another. Then another. When the robot was wrecked, completely done for, the two men briefly glanced to each other, then at Piper and Cait.
Their cover completely blown, they ran towards the shouting, disoriented gunners.
More than happy to give her friend's AR-18 a good shake, Cait only lingered behind MacCready, Vadim, and Piper to give herself a (less than healthy) dose of psycho before opening fire on the first gunners she saw. Much more wary than her friend, Piper snuck behind an old, rusted through truck. She caught a few gunners unaware, keeping herself hidden and able to shoot as long as possible. Albeit slightly less cautious, Vadim wasted no time in shooting down as many of the encampment's defences as possible; aim focused on turrets and visibly weak structures, and his mind lightly eased by the confirmation that, in fact, there had been only one assaultron unit in the gunners' arsenal at the site. MacCready weaved in and out of Cait and Vadim the closer the three of them got to the heart of the encampment, his gaze hardening in anger and resolve when he saw one of the two men they had come to kill. Looking almost bored and watching the fight, Vincent Winlock kicked his legs up on the coffee table beside him, toying with his gun in his hands and barking orders at his men. It was only when MacCready came into arms reach of him the notorious gunner stood up, ensuring his gun was loaded and laughing when the twenty four year old darted towards him, drawing his smaller handgun.
In a matter of a few seconds, Winlock distracted by his own amusement, MacCready managed to kick the gun out of his hands and pistol whipped him before forcefully attempting to restrain him with one arm, pointing the gun square at the man's temples, his other arm shaking with the weapon in hand.
"Entertaining, watching you and your dumb friends waltz up to us," Winlock said, the amused and lighthearted tone departing him when he felt MacCready's handgun press into his skin. "Bold of you to show your face around here."
"I don't give a damn whether or not it's 'bold,'" MacCready snapped, his fingers wrapping around the trigger before firing and kicking the man now bleeding from the head to the ground, his blood splattered on his old leather jacket and jeans. "No one tries to lay a hand to my son and gets away with it. Nothing more and nothing less."
It was when the former gunner turned around and went back into the fray he saw Piper, Vadim, and Cait were themselves making fairly swift work of several of the gunners. His mind focused on taking out the other monster who had intended on killing his son, MacCready pushed through the gunners he could and swapped his handgun for his sniper rifle and went to find Stephen Barnes from within the smoke and haze all around them. Nearly tripping over a few beds and a few mattresses scattered under one of the shelters of the encampment, he tried to calm himself, steadying his hands around his rifle, pushing his way through the smoke. He let out a pained cry when a shot hit him in the left hip, causing the twenty four year old former mayor to stumble back, getting hit just below his right elbow and then in his right ankle. Struggling to regain his bearings, MacCready stumbled a little only, to his surprise, to be pulled back from falling over a set of chairs by Piper, seemingly appearing out of thin air amongst the smoke, shouts, and pain beginning to bloom through his body. He gave her a grateful, weak smile before the two of them had to open fire again, a group of four gunners having spotted and running towards them with fury and sick amusement and laughter.
One down, then another.
Another.
Another.
The sounds of laughter, shouting, and gunfire beginning to get quieter, MacCready and Piper took a few seconds to catch their breath. After they had, they went back into the fray, though slower than before, the pain and bleeding starting to make him dizzy. He dropped the feeling as quickly as it came when the other man they had come after came into his sights. Kneeling down, struggling to stand up, MacCready aimed and began to fire at Stephen Barnes, only to pause when the man ran out of his range. He let out an aggravated sigh, and reloaded his rifle, feeling only a little relieved when he saw Vadim take out another two gunners with Piper before destroying the nearest of the few defence systems still operational in the encampment. His mind began to run amuck, worried, when he realised he had not seen Cait, and he started to feel sick; unsure if it were out of worry for his friend or from his injuries. Not sure what else to do, MacCready snatched whatever he could from the chairs and boxes nearest to him that could help stop the bleeding faster, his hands shaking when he set down his rifle and, for a few seconds, felt as though he were back in his childhood, before he had become the mayor Little Lamplight, after the cave in, and after...
"Bang!"
Cait.
Almost as startling as the noise of the rapid firing of the AR-18 the former cage fighter had 'borrowed' from her friend was the voice of Cait Felgate shouting along with it before coming into view, firing another few shots at and through the other man they had come after.
"Bang! Bang!" Cait yelled, finally shooting the man down. "Good as new!"
Finally, everything went still.
"Don't think they're going to need these anymore," Piper remarked, dragging a crate of Nuka Cola over to where MacCready was sat, still binding up his wounds. "And a lot of the other shit here."
"Free for the taking," Cait said with a smirk, though she sighed and rolled her eyes when she saw MacCready. "Getting fucked up trying to protect your son again?"
"This isn't as bad as what happened when you had to drag me back to Goodneighbour, so I wouldn't say that," MacCready dryly replied. "But the job's done. This should send the message to any other gunners to stay off my back."
"They will," Vadim said, clapping as he joined them. "They hear you loud and clear."
"You know it," MacCready said, laughing a little but giving him and Cait a grateful look when the two of them came over to help him finish dressing his wounds to be able to safely leave. "After I get these properly treated, there's going to be nothing to worry about."
Piper raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"With the way these lunatics act, you'd think they might retaliate but, believe me, they won't. I worked with these guys only about a year, but other gunners, down in what used to be Maryland and Pennsylvania?" MacCready shook his head. "They're all the same. It's always about the bottom line, and they've just lost two of their best men and an entire waystation, which is going to cost them big. And, besides...they'll have no way of knowing I was involved."
"Then let's get all the good shite and get out of here," Cait said with a smirk. "They've learnt their lesson the hard way, and that's just fine by me because these fuckers? They've just gotten what they deserve."