Cross-Country Subway. Most people just call it C.C.S., but for couriers like us, we call it by its full name. In pre-war times they made a subway that goes from Capital Wasteland all the way to New California Republic (the town). But when the bombs hit and the capital was destroyed, the tunnels went with it.
The rest of the of the bombs fell and made massive creators along the system making it possible for people to get inside the tunnels and even clear them out. Vault 317 opened and they did so, hoping to restore the subway systems, but they were in pre-war Kansas which did not have the power control.
That along with the radioactivity made it very difficult for them to turn the power back on. But they did what they could and sent a small group to the east to see if they could reactivate the grid. Malcolm Hendrick, the current Enclave president, talked to the group, who was know as the 317th, and agreed to let them into the underground railway to fix the subway.
After a few days the 317th came out with good news, bad news, and more good news. They fixed the grid, but four of the group members either died of to much radiation or became ghouls from resisting the rads, and the subway was fully intact. President Hendrick was pleased with the news, only focusing on the good, and wondered how fast the subterranean train could go.
The remainder of the 317th went back down for a week and tested the railway the whole time, during which Malcolm vented the tunnels of radiation. On May 13, 2298, the group returned to Capital Wastelands' surface with good news. The subways maximum speed was 237 mph. and it bolted straight through the rads.
Ecstatic, President Malcolm Hendrick opened the underground railway to the public. In his speech on the 20th, he included the price of a ticket for the speedy subway that radiation was not a problem on it, and security would be placed in each car. The 317th were awarded medals and praised for their valiant deeds.
On their return home four more of them fell victim to radiation and became ghouls. The group fought their hardest, but lost another to blood loss. Continuing their journey back home, they came to pre-war Saint Louis where they were raided by a band of super mutants, loosing three men in the battle. Two were left, they continued their way back to pre-war Kansas, eager to tell the good news and see how their vault had grown accustom to the apocalyptic world.
Finally, upon arriving in Kansas, the two made it home. But the "home" they saw was not what they wanted, or even expected. On the ridge they stood, watching their, what seamed like a would-be nice, town burn. Cries of terror, sorrow, and anger filled the air more then radiation. They watched their friends and family be dragged away by muscular men in red sports equipment and be shot in the head, if not crucified on old telephone poles.
One of the remaining 317ths' was about to charge into the town, but the other stopped him. She stated she had more ammo and was a lot quieter then him. She told him to return to Capital Wasteland where she would meet up with him. He listened to her and left, but not out of earshot. Almost unable to see the ridge he was just on he heard a macabre, gruesome, morbid scream that froze his bones straight to the marrow.
As soon as he regained his senses he fled as fast as he could. Returning to Enclave territory, he was greeted as an old friend, but he told them things were not so happy. President Hendrick invited him to dinner and gave him a room in the presidential sweet. After washing up the only remnant of the 317th came to dinner and told his horrific story.
Awestruck, Malcolm comforted the shaken man and treated him with some meds. A statue, monument, was to be made in honor of the heroic men and woman that gave their life. And on June 17th, 2298, the structure was made of every vault dweller of Vault 317 that stepped foot in Capital Wasteland.
I know this story because I am the Vault 317 survivor.