In the final moments of the computer AI and president of the Enclave, John Henry Eden, he transmitted a signal. A hard coded contingency fail safe that had been programmed into his core processes so as to be made impossible for anyone, even the AI to remove without rendering it unserviceable. Even as Raven Rock collapsed and exploded around the sentient computer, flames licking at its data banks it sent the encrypted message at full power to pre-war determined coordinates.

The Signal bounced off what few satellites were still functioning in orbit and beamed down to transmitters that had been waiting patiently for over two hundred years for that very signal. Waiting for the command that they had been designed to receive.

As the transmitters finally received the command they had been waiting so patiently to arrive, old world machinery began to come alive. Lights slowly powering on, revealing row after row of cryo stasis chambers that had been nestled safely in the bowels of the earth. Tucked away from the madness above and the horrors of the great war and time after. Machinery whirring and groaning like some beast waking from a long slumber. Robot custodians trundling along on tracks, plodding forward of clumsy metal legs, or else hovering above the ground with a quiet whirring.

Amber lights began to rotate, splashing the still dark interior of the complex with intermittent light as the first of the pods began to open.

xxx

Lucas Jansen was cold. It was a chill that had settled deep into his bones after being in cryo sleep for over two hundred years and no amount of hot coffee, shivering, or warm blankets seemed able to warm him up. It was as if his time in cryo had turned his bones to ice, his skin to frost, and his blood to freon.

He was told that it was a side effect of his long inactivity. That proper rest, food, and time would see the symptoms cease, but until then he would remain feeling like a chilled bottle of vintage wine. Lucas had become used to the cold before the war. Could deal with it better than most other men could.

He was a veteran of the Canadian and Alaskan campaigns, a soldier who had spent his time on the frontlines rather than in garrison. It was because of his commitment to the cause and experience that he had been selected to stay in one of the giant underground vaults that had been built to weather a possible nuclear storm. An offer that had come extended to his family and allowed them to shelter in safety when the storm had come to pass.

Lucas is, or perhaps it was more apt to say was a Green Beret before the nukes had fallen. An elite soldier for the United States, and now for the inheritor of its legacy and authority the Enclave. He had been well trained, well equipped, experienced, and most importantly loyal which was why he now found himself in Vault Prime. Why he was still alive.

Vault Prime as it was called was a massive installation sprawling for miles underground, home to some 10000 Enclave members and their families. Nestled in the Black Hills of South Dakota it contained a vast treasure trove of manufacturing facilities, weapons stores, hydroponic farms, and large scale geothermal and fusion reactors for power. It didn't have the capacity to house all of its residents once they were all woken up as it were, but Lucas wasn't the first to be woken up and already a fortified settlement had taken shape outside of the vault.

Officially only 122 vaults had been commissioned in the continental United States, but unofficially there were several dozen other vaults constructed for government use only and a now unknown number of privately constructed vaults. There had also been a series of vaults constructed up in Canada, but if they had ever been occupied or had been left empty was as of yet unknown.

They had managed to establish contact with remnants of the Enclave that had stayed awake, and in doing so had established a place where those without purpose could gather. A place where what remained of the once mighty enclave could gather.

A year had passed since the original signal had been broadcast, waking Lucas and everyone else here from their long sleep, and in that year they had hadn't been idle. They'd brought the manufacturing facilities back online, prepped the living quarters, opened the armories, and insured that their new home was both secure and fully functional.

They hadn't done a great deal of scouting beyond sending out the occasional eyebot to scout their immediate surroundings and even those excursions had been brief. They didn't want to attract attention before the majority of those still asleep were awake, but they couldn't wake them up until they were sure that they could feed, house, care for, and keep safe all that were with them.

Such a challenge was quickly being met however, and the awakenings were increasing exponentially. Prioritizing the engineers, technicians, and scientists over the soldiers. Now that they felt secure enough in their position to not cower within Vault Prime however, teams were being sent out to make contact with other communities in the region after careful study, which was why members like Lucas were awakening.

There were several other vaults in the area that they were working on making contact with. Vaults 123, 124, 125, and 126 in the state. All were regular sized vaults containing at most 1000 people without the massive warehouses that Vault Prime contained.

By making contact with the Enclave that had remained awake they had been given some of their files containing information on advanced power armor and energy weapons. Technology that even now was in the process of being manufactured in Vault Prime. Already several dozen suits of advanced power armor MK II had been manufactured, proving superior in maintenance, autonomy, and performance to the T-51B armor that they had in stock. Except for raw protection in which the older T-51B still dominated being bigger and bulkier than the newer counterpart. Though the bulk of what they had for personal protection was still advanced reinforced combat armor.

As for the members themselves they were scattered with no clear purpose after having suffered a series of devastating setbacks and defeats over the past couple of decades. They were isolated, dwindling, a shadow of what they had once been. Yet, they were still Enclave and General Winters, the overall commander of Vault Prime was reaching out to them. Offering sanctuary and protection to those who remained. They came in small groups, trickling in every few weeks, or so Lucas had been told. Vault Prime was a big place and he had just woken up as it were.

The largest had been a group of 400 or so assorted personnel, under the command of one Colonel Augustus Autumn. Though the majority of those personnel had been children and had caused them to accelerate their plans to institute viable elementary and high schools. So far, they and the other remnants children were the only attendees.

Colonel Autumn and his group had arrived via vertibird with stores of power armor, blueprints, and data records for what had transpired in the past 200 years. They had also given account of someone simply called the Lone Wanderer, but the way they spoke of him made him seem more like a superhuman deity rather than a man. Something like a force of nature instead of a flesh and blood creation.

They had lost Adams air force base, though had retained the knowledge of how to make their hellfire armor. Upgrades from that armor would be applied to the new models of power armor and combat armor that the vast manufacturing facilities of Vault Prime continuously churned out. Though the majority of what was made at the moment was building supplies and machine parts.

The Enclave wasn't looking to make war, not yet at least. They needed to establish their home, secure their living space, and ensure that they had an adequate supply of food, water, and energy before the latest power armor or plasma weaponry.

They had established contact with one of the only significant Enclave bastions left on the continental United Sates. The group in Chicago had been in disarray following the string of defeats and losses that the Enclave had suffered, but with General Winters reestablishing contact and sending supply runs to them via vertibird it had stopped the desertions. In doing so they had not only managed to maintain the Enclave forces in Chicago and elsewhere, but expand their presence.

Still, the Remnant Enclave, those who had stayed awake saw Colonel Autumn as their defacto leader and deferred to him in nearly all matters, leading to a somewhat precarious relationship between Winters and Autumn. Each controlling their own faction within the Enclave, though one technically outranking the other.

Xxx

"I hadn't imagined that the Enclave would have gotten soft after the bombs fell, but it would appear that even I am capable of being wrong," said General Winters derisively to Colonel Augustus Autumn, the junior officer remaining standing while his superior remained seated.

"I wouldn't call it soft sir."

"Then what would you call it Colonel?"

"I would call it a shift in strategy. We've tried going it alone before, tried creating a new world simply from within the Enclave itself, but we failed to do so time and again. We failed despite greater intelligence, coordination, supply, and technology."

"You didn't have Vault Prime and its resources before Colonel. Didn't have the numbers that we have now. We have to ability to not only maintain, but manufacture anything we need at pre-war factory levels. Our automated defenses have been repaired along with our communication arrays. In a few more weeks we will again be expanding our perimeter walls outward, allowing for the construction of new living space and allowing us to awaken more members in a self-renewing cycle."

"No we didn't have this," conceded Autumn. "We had the Oil Rig instead. We had Navarro, Raven Rock, Andrews Air Force Base, the Crawler, satellites armed with missiles, superior mobility, and the same arrogance that you have now General."

"If you have a point to make Colonel, make it."

"The wasteland is too big to rule only through fear, you can't rebuild a nation with that and you don't have the numbers. You have 55 000 people frozen here but eighty percent of those are civilians, and most are children. You can't both secure your own territory and wage a campaign against your enemies if you act like a tyrant. You don't have the numbers to do it, nobody does. There's already other nations forming, other groups armed with weapons and technology that could threaten us even now were they to discover us."

"The NCR is distant, but they have many more people than we do and they're constantly expanding. They've managed to establish their own laws, education system, and taxation. They have the numbers, trade, and industry to put us into a very delicate position. They have no love for the Enclave and have actually made an effort to hunt down our members who have tried to leave the organization and destroy our outposts and facilities wherever they find them. If they were to learn of our existence, you can be sure that they would put plans in place to eradicate us."

"Then there's the Legion which is an aggressive and expansionist tribe that lives for war and conquest. Constantly amalgamating new lands and tribes into the Legion. They harken back to the days of Ancient Rome, practicing slavery, dressing in crimson livery, and favoring melee weapons. They are harsh in their laws and customs, but their lands are safe. Remarkably free of gangs or raiders. Their technology is primitive, but they have motivation, leadership, and have pulled off some impressive victories."

"Then there is the Brotherhood of Steel, which is fanatical in their attempts to hoard and preserve technology of pre-war America while refusing to allow others to access it. Although sapped of a great deal of their strength from their war with the NCR they are still a formidable force. Armed with power armor and advanced weapons, they have none too fond memories of us. In many cases people see them as little more than power armored bullies, but around Washington, they are seen as saviors. An anomaly to be sure, but an anomaly that has seen the ranks of the Eastern Brotherhood swell with new recruits."

"Colonel get to the point and quit wasting my time with reports. I've heard all this before and I'm quite well aware of the groups that we face."

"Of course sir," said Autumn, remaining implacably calm despite the brusque tone that his superior was taking with him. "Despite the vast differences that all of our rivals have in both approach and goals in post war America, they all have one thing that we lack. Legitimacy."

"What," said General Winters, voice deathly quiet and eyes narrowing to pinpricks of rage. Muscles tensing like a predator about to pounce. "Explain yourself Colonel. Now."

"We claim a direct line to the pre-war American government, but they fell over two hundred years ago. They ceased providing services, ceased seeing to the needs of their people, and we haven't made it a priority to restore such services. In their absence, our absence, these other nations emerged to fill the void and believe me General, they are nation states. With their own currency, laws, and military force. They provide security to the people who live in their territory, amalgamate those they encounter as they expand, and see to their needs. They are the government in their regions, because they behave as a government should."

"Even the eastern Brotherhood, though refraining from forming itself into an official government has taken on that role in several capacities. People with nothing give the Brotherhood food, ammo, recruits, and any pre-war tech that they can scavenge while in exchange the Brotherhood offers protection and clean drinking water. Something that until recently was in very short supply and something that I and my colleagues foolishly tried to poison to kill off those who survived in the wasteland after the bombs fell, because we felt them contaminated. Instead of distributing the water ourselves and providing safety and security to the Capital Wasteland gaining their gratitude and support. We instead behaved not as a resurgent American Government ready to once again take up the mantle, but petty tyrants. No better than the common raiders and brigands who prowl the Capital Wasteland. If we are to survive in this world, prosper in it, we must act as the definitive American Government."

"So after failing several times in your own attempts Colonel you now presume to tell us how we should proceed? Forgive me if I am skeptical of your ascertains."

"I am advising you now to reinforce failure Sir. I will admit that I was once upon a time of the same mind. I didn't see the common wastelander as worth the time or resources that it would take to educate and train them to be useful. In light of recent events though I have had to debate the usefulness of wastelanders after being so soundly defeated by, and then spared by one. The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome. South Dakota has all the raw resources that we need to start rebuilding a nation state. Oil, iron, rare earth metals for electronic and power armor manufacture and Uranium for power plants. There are many tribes and settlements in the area. The people are desperate for safety and security. If we offer medical treatment, protection, and education while improving their standard of living we will have legitimacy without the need for fear."

"So what? We take in tribals, ghouls, and raiders? Let them into Vault Prime and all sing kumbaya? These tribes that you've talked about already have their own hierarchy, their own traditions. Why would they follow us? They raid and pillage to survive. They have no need for what we have to offer unless you intend on giving them guns which they'll just turn against us. Most have deep seated hatred against each other that go back to the early days after the Great War. They'd never agree to work together."

"America wasn't just formed with words General. It was the United States cavalry that claimed the west and allowed us to expand in days of yore. Whether the tribes follow us peacefully and integrate, or we crush them underfoot will endear the farming settlements and caravan companies to us regardless. We will need a larger and more natural supply of food if we intend on awakening all of those frozen in sleep here and we need those who are familiar with working the soil. As for the ghouls, eventually they all turn feral. It's as inevitable as the radiation slowly deteriorating their brains, but disgusting as they are, they still have their uses and as such should be seen as the tools they are. Potentially valuable tools."

"So you would consort with ghouls?"

"I would use them as I would a shovel or a pistol Sir. Most of our population will be pre-war civilians with no idea of how to survive in the wasteland. The farmers and tribals can teach us how to survive in the new world just as we teach them how to use the knowledge of the old world to better themselves. The ghouls we can send to areas that would otherwise be impossible for us to access, even with protective suits or power armor. It will lead to a state of natural symbiosis and the beginning of the return of the American Nation State. Though, I do believe that we both agree on the first course of action that we have to take."

"On that point we have no disagreement Colonel."

xxx

The South Dakota Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel was a small one. Consisting of two hundred members at most, it was more a listening post than an actual Chapter, although they still did as their codex mandated.

They combed through what they could of the pre-war military bases and buildings, searching for technology and advanced weapons, but installations like Ellsworth Air Force Base proved too formidable, even for their power armored soldiers. Old military robots, ghouls, both feral and non, and said ghouls with enough pre-war military hardware to put South Dakota through a second Armageddon kept the Brotherhood well away.

Despite the dangers of Deathclaws, Rad Cougars, raiders, tribals, radiation, and everything else the wasteland liked to throw at its inhabitants, the Brotherhood knights and paladins still found patrols a mundane tedium. Armored in T-51B and T-45D power armor, very little could menace them. Even fewer were the threats that could actually close to engage with them before being torn to shreds by laser, Gauss, or explosive rounds.

Their armored boots sunk deep into the soft soil beside the remains of the I-90. They were close to North Sue City, and as such made sure to keep a wide berth. North Sue City had been home to a pre-war protectron factory that the residents, and robots themselves made sure to keep running and pumping out new protectrons. Though at a very reduced rate.

They sold them to traveling merchants who didn't mind the clanging as they plodded after their caravan, farmers who could afford a robot guard dog, and to the barons in Miracle Pier who controlled the water trade routes. A city that had been remarkably been spared nuclear annihilation in the Great War.

Obviously it was a prime target for the Brotherhood because of the protectron factory, but North Sue City made sure to keep a very large amount of protectrons roaming the perimeter of their town. Keeping them safe, and the Brotherhood out. It was an uneasy dance that they participated in. North Sue City knew that the Brotherhood could take the factory if they wanted to, But the Brotherhood knew that to do so would cost too many lives to do it. So the Brotherhood stayed out at a range where very few things could menace them.

A high velocity 25mm armor piercing sabot round proved to be one of those that could and the round crushed through an old and battered T-45D helmet. Turning it to scrap metal and the skull beneath to meaty chunks of bone and gray matter.

The body of the Brotherhood Knight hit the ground before the rolling crack of the weapon reached them. Then, in a manner of speaking, all hell broke loose.

Tracer, Gauss, laser, rocket, and plasma fire streaked in from every direction into the five man Brotherhood patrol as a force five times their number ambushed them. It took fifteen seconds for the patrol to be completely annihilated, most not even getting a shot off and for the couple who did, they were more reflex than aimed.

"Sigma Squad, 4 mags 2 boxes expended, no injuries."

"Delta Squad, 4 mags 2 rockets expended, no injuries."

"Zeta Squad, 4 boxes two mags expended, no injuries."

"Gamma Squad, two mags expended no injuries. Target, eliminated. All teams, rendezvous at point nuka."

Black power armored soldiers revealed themselves from where they had been hiding under camouflage netting, behind old cars, or in the case of Gamma Squad, over a kilometer away. Then, just as quickly as they had revealed themselves, they disappeared. Their part was done in the operation and the other platoons would see to theirs.

A similar scene replayed itself several times that night, all with similar results and all with the Enclave soldiers disappearing into the night like black armored ghosts. Brief and violent exchanges of weapons fire that would shatter the quiet of the night, before fading away all together into a deathly silence.

The bunker that the Brotherhood had chosen as their home had supposed to have been used as a fallout shelter for top civilian and military leaders in the area, but due to a tragic mishap, this was never done. The South Dakota Missile Defense Union had sounded the ala

rm as a drill rather than as the very real Armageddon that was coming. The result of such a catastrophic failure in communication meant that the bunker had remained unused and inactive. Well, at least until the brotherhood had found it.

It was a bunker that stretched hundreds of feet underground layered with reinforced concrete, space age metals, and dirt. With its self-contained filters, reactors, living quarters, and food processors much like those found in the Vault-Tec Vaults. It was a vault in all but name and lacking the obscene protection afforded to one by their massive doors.

High above the bunker a pair of vertibirds flew in formation, struggling under the weight of their payloads. Mini nukes clinging to their undersides like spore clusters and filling their bomb bays to capacity. One broke formation and began circling the bunker, while the other stopped and hovered directly overhead.

Then, like a bomber from a bygone era released the mini nukes in a furious expulsion like spore clusters bursting open. The bombs whistling silently as they fell to the earth below. For a minute there was nothing but the quiet of the night, then, in a multitude of furious detonations it was shattered.

Mushroom clouds reached ever upwards only to be scattered by the next detonation of atomic fire and so it continued until not a single mini nuke remained aboard the vertibird. With a rocking of wings the vertibird moved from its position and allowed the second to take position.

The top levels of the bunker had been laid open. Thick concrete peeled back like scab from a wound and steel torn open to reveal the innards of the bunker within. With the flick of a switch the next barrage of mini nukes fell into the yawning chasm of the bunker's roof, explosions rocking and tearing the bunker apart even as it caused more levels within to collapse in on themselves. When the payload was complete the bunker was a burning ruin. Any levels further down that had survived were now buried under tonnes of rock, steel, and concrete. Forever entombing those who had survived inside. The Dakota Chapter of the Brotherhood of steel would no longer be a threat.

Just to be sure though, the Enclave would spend the next month scouring the area around the bunker. Looking for secret exit tunnels, hidden entrances, and most importantly survivors. Needless to say, the Enclave were incredibly thorough in their efforts.

xxx

South Dakota had changed and it sent a pang of grief through Lucas to scout through the ruins that remained of what had once been America.

Crumbling houses, rusted out cars, and blackened bones were what Lucas and his squad found. The old world was a graveyard now and they were picking though its bones like hyenas. What they were looking for even Lucas wasn't sure, or if they were even looking for anything at all. Perhaps this was the way that the higher ups had decided to acclimatize them to their new world. Throw them into the fire and fix the cracks that the heat revealed in their psyche.

If they were looking for a crack in Lucas they weren't going to find one. He'd been hardened against this cruelty and despair back before he had been put to sleep in cryo. This world, depressing as it was, was just another battlefield.

They had picked through the remains of Rapid City, careful to avoid any other scavengers combing the ruins for anything of value, and the less human variety that were less discerning in what they found.

Rapid City was clear of radiation for the most part, but of there was the merest shadow of its pre-war population of 100 000 remaining. Many had died in the chaos of the immediate aftermath of the bombs falling, more still to the first winter without power which was made unbearably cold by the dust sent into the atmosphere from nuclear detonation.

Today they weren't poking through the ashes of the old world in Rapid City as they had been doing for the past week, but rather observing the seeds that had taken root and sprouted roots from the ruins.

There were tribes scattered throughout South Dakota. Many little better than stone age savages thought to have been forgotten to the annals of history as mankind had marched ever forward in the pursuit of progress. Perhaps a passing curiosity that would occasionally emerge from the heart of the Amazon or else the deepest depths of the African continent. Yet with the end upon them people had learned how to survive in their new world lest they perish and had started over again at square one. With rock and bone.

Aggressive was a word to describe many of these tribes. While some were at least capable of subsistence farming they were not above raiding and pillaging their neighbors. Whether they be other tribes, or else towns whose residents at least clung to some form of civility.

The farmers were the ones who wore what could at least be called clothing and who at least knew enough about farming so that they could live above sustenance. So that they were able to trade with one another, develop specialized roles within their community and create goods rather than just scavenge for them. A true society. Perhaps not as advanced as what had existed before the bombs had fallen, but nevertheless it was progress. A glimmer of what had been.

Full power armor seemed a little excessive to observe them in and pre-war it would have been, but with some of the wildlife that had been observed, Lucas wasn't going to complain about wearing it. If anything he wished that it was thicker.

The MK II power armor that they had been given was excellent. Lightweight, strong, and with some upgrades from the facilities in Vault Prime, the optics and sensors aboard the suit were top notch, even compared to pre-war tech. Though it lacked the bulk and protection of other models save for the T-45 series in which it was superior in every regard.

They were also experimenting with the MK I advance power armor since it proved easier and cheaper to produce whilst offering more protection while being much bulkier making urban maneuvering harder, but they were going to have to make a decision soon. In fact Lucas was wearing the MK I right now and he had no complaints about it. It was superior in every regard to the T51B that he had worn before the bombs fell.

They now had stores of 4 different models of power armor at Vault Prime and part standardization was going to be hard if they decided they wanted the tesla or hellfire armor that Lucas had heard about. In his opinion, they should stick with the MK I and MK II advanced power armor.

The MK I armor being fully black with eyes that could glow allowed for excellent intimidation, but it didn't allow for equally as excellent concealment so Lucas did his best to mostly stay immobile and merely observe. A test more suited for an eyebot truth be told or a man dressed in recon armor, but command wanted boots on the ground and that was where Lucas and those like him came into play.

Right now he was watching a family of farmers tilling the fields around their shack. It had been his job over the last month to observe the farmers closest to Vault Prime and although it could prove tedius It was like watching a history reel back in high school, except their plow hooked to oxen were instead two-headed cows that people had taken to calling brahmin. They were ugly beasts to be sure, hairless, pinkish red, and possessing two heads they were a far cry from the cow that they had descended from.

The seeding so far as he could see was all done by hand by walking and flinging handfuls of seed down into the dirt like medieval serfs had done in centuries past. The tilling was done with either manual tools or else animal drawn ploughs. Primitive, but effective farming.

Lucas had to admit that he liked watching these farmers work. It was like seeing something normal. Something from before the war. Family, productivity, self-sufficiency, dependance, and purpose all wrapped up into one. They weren't concerned merely with surviving from day to day, but rather building something that they could inherit in the future. Looking forward to a better and brighter tomorrow, yet there was still danger.

These farmers were not left in peace by mere fortune, they paid for it. They bribed the tribes in the area with food so that they would leave them in peace. Lucas had seen them come, dressed in boiled leather and painted skin. They had demanded food and had seemed unsatisfied by what the family had offered. The father had protested when they had demanded more, but a blow to the head which had knocked the man to the ground had quelled any opposition. It had been a hard winter and the tribals were hungry so they took what they wanted which seemed to leave pitifully little for the family themselves. Scarcely more than seed crop.

They had guns to be sure. An old hunting rifle, a large revolver, and a double barreled shotgun that they carried around with them no matter what they were doing. Each weapon given to a different family member to defend themselves both from human threats, and animal ones. Not enough for each of them to have one, but enough to give them a fighting chance at survival. Yet not enough to fight off the tribals.

Lucas himself was armed with a plasma defender pistol nestled in a ceramic holster on his hip and a gatling gun secured to his back. The weapon well oiled and loaded with high velocity armor piercing rounds that fed from the pack secured to his back to the gun. Weaponry leagues above what the farmers had and enough to allow him to deal with any threat he could face. 1500 rounds of 5mm ammunition could deal with most anything.

Staying immobile wasn't an issue for Lucas, even crouched down as he was it didn't strain him at all. All he had to do was lock the servos in his suit and then basically sit so that was what he did.

He liked watching the children the most. One of the little girls was about the same age that his Sister's Jessica was. She looked a lot like her too and it sent a pang of longing stabbing through the heart of the Enclave Soldier as he watched her follow after her mother. Maybe 8 years old with hair the same color as the wheat that she was helping to plant. His suit recorded everything that he saw or watched and knew that it would be picked over in great detail when he returned to Vault Prime.

Lucas switched his gaze as his suit highlighted movement in the far clump of trees on the opposite side of the farm, an orange targeting box falling over the three adult males of the Skull Breaker Tribe. So named because of their fondness for crushing their enemies skulls with whatever heavy or blunt object happened to be on hand at the time. Sledgehammers with wicked spikes forged onto them being a favorite weapon of theirs.

They thought that they were hidden. Dressed in forest and earthy colors they blended in nearly perfectly to the valley flora. They moved slowly, almost a part of the landscape itself in how adept they were at moving undetected, but they'd never had to try and hide from sensors that searched for silhouettes, heat, movement, and if close enough, the electrical impulses of nerves. A nifty upgrade that Vault Prime had added to their suits.

Lucas watched them, cameras in his helmet zooming in on them and recording their movements. He realized that they were doing the very same thing that he was doing, only that their intentions were no doubt much more nefarious for the farming family.

The family paid tribute to the Iron Hide and Strong Fist tribes. Each one having gotten their name for their trademark equipment. The Iron Hide Tribe favored heavy armor made of various salvaged metal while the Strong Fist Tribe had gotten their hands on a cache of power fists sometime either before or after the bombs had fallen. Though those were relics in their tribe now, so its members more so relied on Yao Guai, bladed, or if the hunter was exceptionally skilled, a Deathclaw gauntlet.

As such they didn't have the food to both bribe the Skull Breakers and feed themselves. Much less plant a crop for the next year. The tribes that they bribed offered them no protection beyond promising that their own members wouldn't harass or kill them. If the Skull Breakers decided to attack them, they would be on their own.

Telling himself that it was a precaution, but knowing that he was entertaining a fantasy, Lucas lined up a targeting solution on the trio of tribals. The MK I power armor guaranteeing with a 98% accuracy that the first burst of sixty rounds would eliminate all three of the Skull Breakers. All it would take would be for his to squeeze the firing studs and the threat to the farmers would be gone. Still, it was against his orders to engage in combat or reveal himself unless absolutely necessary, so Lucas secured the minigun back into its holding rack and merely watched.

Xxx

Lucas walked back into Inheritance with the rest of the scouts, the name that had been given to the town that had formed outside of Vault Prime, or rather been built outside of it. It was more like a fortified military camp than a town though. Automated turrets sat in their perches overlooking the approaches leading to the gate and walls. Muzzles tracking for targets, while guards armed with plasma rifles and power armor prowled atop the prefabricated walls. Snipers armed with anti-material or gauss rifles perched in the guard towers scanning for threats. Sentry bots and Mr. Gutsy robots trundled back in forth inside and outside the walls, or else guarded the gate. They had plasma weapons, rapid fire 5mm gatling guns, missile launchers, and gatling lasers equipped. Weaponry that could even make a man in power armor take pause.

Even being on the surface now, they still built underground both for protection and to prepare for the coming winter so that they could conserve heat and energy. No building was higher than one story tall, but all of them had a basement which was also the main living area. They were square structures with slanted roofs made of entirely of prefabricated materials matte gray in appearance and entirely radiation proof so long as a nuke wasn't dropped directly on top of them. They also came equipped with solar panels on the roofs to help supplement power to the grid and make each home more or less energy independent.

They were built in neat rows, reminiscent of pre-war suburbia, but with much smaller houses and lots. Paved roads ran by in front of them though as of yet they hadn't gotten any of their vehicles beyond vertibirds running. Or perhaps they were sequestering all of the fuel for the vertibirds. Either way, he doubted that he'd be behind the wheel of a car any time soon. Or really live how he did before the war any time soon. At least the valleys around Vault Prime had greenery and trees to look at. It was at least something reminiscent of what had once been.

After the reports had been made and power armor turned back into stores along with the heavier weapons, Lucas found himself laying on his bed, R91 rifle freshly oiled next to him as he held a book, not reading it and instead thinking about the farmers.

They were going to be attacked, of that much he was certain, he just didn't know when or by how many. If Lucas did nothing, he knew that they were going to die, but he couldn't act without orders, wouldn't act without orders. He wouldn't just be a simple deserter like others had been before the bombs fell. Wouldn't be able to just go and hop across the border into Mexico like conscripted grunts had done. Him disobeying orders or going AWOL would have very real consequences. For him and his sisters family that the Enclave had made space for.

If at the very least they kicked him out, it would be a death sentence. He had no idea how to survive in this world. He was learning, slowly, but he had trained for war in another time. Yet, the reasons he fought were still the same. It seemed too damned reminiscent of what the Chinese had done to American citizens in Alaska. Those who had been unwilling to cooperate with the communists had met truly horrific fates at the hands of those red bastards. Some of those scenes still haunted him to this day. How he had watched some atrocities while performing recon in Alaska, but been unable to act still gnawed at him even now.

With a huff he got up and went to the small writing desk he had in his room. In reality he could touch both walls in his room if he outstretched his arms and all he really had to do to get to the desk was swing his legs off of the bed and into the chair.

He booted up the computer and began typing. He restarted the whole process several times, dissatisfied with what he had written and trying to find a way to put what he wanted into words that his superiors would approve of. They wouldn't approve of Lucas merely wanting to play the hero so that he didn't have to live with the regret of yet another massacre as the result of inaction.

In the end he decided that an emotional ploy or one that tried to play to the potential benefits of protecting the farmers from attack would be soundly ignored. Instead, he wrote the memo in regards to what he thought of as suspicious activity at the homestead and requested that he be given permission to observe them at night. Lucas knew that the possibility of living next to cannibals would certainly get the attention of his superiors. He didn't outright say as much about the farmers, but he hinted strongly at the possibility of it.

After he had sent the email off, he set his alarm and went to bed. Combat armor and rifle within easy reach should a stand to be called. Another reason that the soldiers had been given quarters outside the vault while the scientists and technicians were allowed to live within it and bring its systems online. It made sense though, Inheritance was merely another line of defense for Vault Prime.

Xxx

Lucas' memo was still being processed, but he was sure that it was going to be approved. The Enclave were nothing if not cautious and would no doubt assign someone or something to observe the farmstead at night. Whether it was him or not remained to be seen. He hoped that it was, but he couldn't be sure. For now though, he and his squad had been assigned a new mission. One that saw them and the rest of their power armored platoon surround the Rapid City Public Library. Or at least what remained of it.

It was a monument to pre-war knowledge and learning. Still standing defiantly all these years after nuclear annihilation underneath the noonday sun. Where banners had once hung from metal poles, only rusted metal nubs remained and the library itself wasn't in much better shape.

The building itself was dilapidated and rundown. Concrete chipped and pitted while revealing the rusted metal supports and rebar beneath. The result of two hundred years of neglect and exposure to the elements. Still, construction methods before the bombs had fallen had been top notch, at least when followed and as a result the building was still standing. Albeit with many of its windows smashed out, the glass long since carried away by turbulent winds.

It seemed that the Brotherhood of Steel was not so easily stamped out. Eyebots had detected a group of them who had been combing the ruins of the library for any useful data or holotapes. Pre-war books on science, metallurgy, farming, anything that could be of value and what they could keep out of the hands of people they viewed as unworthy or possessing it.

The thought had been to firebomb the library to oblivion, but it had been designated a pre-war command shelter and could contain valuable information about the hours leading up to and after the bombs had fallen. It also didn't sit well with command, the thought of having to destroy a place of knowledge that had managed to survive for so long. That, and the fact that the library had been hosting an experimental autonomous seeding robot exhibit supposedly complete with schematics was the reason that a ground assault had been chosen. Primary objective was the eradication of the Brotherhood. Data retrieval and schematic recovery was secondary.

"Estimated presence is 10 hostiles, only half are expected to be wearing power armor and carrying heavy weapons. The rest are carrying light laser weaponry and no armor. Prepare to breach."

The radio cut out in Lucas' helmet and he the leader of his squad, Captain Gonzales made several gestures with his hand that all present immediately understood. Thule Squad would be going in after the sentry bots breached the main doors.

The doors had been reinforced with scrap that had been lying around the ruins of rapid city. Car parts, building supplies, and good old fashioned debris had been used. It all disappeared in an instant as the sentry bots launched a barrage of rockets at it.

The thundering booms of detonation was muffled, muted by the audio receptors of Lucas' MK I power armor and the lenses in his helmet polarized to save any potential damage or disadvantageous temporary alterations to his visual acuity.

The sentry bots quickly followed up their rocket attack by trundling forward, miniguns blazing as they raked the interior of the library with automatic fire. Another pair of Mr. Gutsy robots modified with smoke grenade launchers launched canisters of tear gas into the building while also throwing out smoke grenades to hide the movement of Lucas' team and Gamma squad as they entered the library. Red laser fire and high powered Gauss shots pummeled the sentry bots in well aimed shots, not at all like the wild, inaccurate fire that raiders would use.

The laser fire scored the shells of the sentry bots the ionizing cracks inaudible over the roar of conventional weapons fire, but failed to penetrate their hardened bodies. The Gauss rounds found no such difficulty, punching through the armor of the robots and removing limbs even as the sentry bots put out a punishing fusillade of bullets.

Lucas and his squad entered behind a second pair of sentry bots just as one of the first two to enter the library ground to a halt with an electronic whine as sparks erupted from its ruptured torso. Its partner still firing its minigun unimpeded despite having lost the missile launcher attachment and entire arm that it was attached to.

Lucas' squad and Gamma squad quickly added their own firepower to that of the sentry bots. Sending rapid fire 5mm, laser, and plasma careening towards the Brotherhood of Steel soldiers. One of the power armored Brotherhood members stood was caught in three separate streams of armor piercing 5mm rounds as he tried to line up a shot with his Gauss rifle. The hailstorm of bullets literally ripping the man apart as it dismantled first his power armor and then himself. Lucas watching the ammo counter in the bottom right of his HUD slowly count down as he sent streams of bullets into any hostile that came across his gun sights.

A pair of Brotherhood Knights fired on them from the mezzanine above, but a rocket from the sentry bots collapsed the ground that they were standing on, causing them to fall with the debris. The fire that the Enclave poured into the rubble and Brotherhood trapped within turned it into rock dust and molten slag.

"Gamma Squad, take the upper mezzanine. Thule squad, take the basement levels. Eliminate any survivors. Move."

The command was curt and to the point as it always was from Major Loche. Sometimes affectionately called Major Loche and Load for his insistence on being on the front lines of any operation he planned with his men. Sharing the same risks they did and outperforming men half his age. A mark of pride for him and awe for the men serving under him. Age slowing a man down very little when he was propelled forward by hardened ceramics and space age metals.

Lucas was almost taken aback as he entered the basement and his squad split to hunt down the remaining Brotherhood of steel members. A pistol round pinged off his chest plate. A 10mm round to be precise from some sort of pipe rifle, followed by a flurry of other small caliber weapons fire. Completely ineffectual towards Lucas. It appeared that the Brotherhood had hired local help in combing through the library. Made sense after a fashion, they hadn't had a great deal of manpower to begin with and extra hands were always welcome.

Lucas put the glow of his suits 'eyes' to full brightness and spoke using the suits enhanced audio speakers.

"Drop your weapons and lay face down on the floor or I will open fire!"

More rounds pinged off of Lucas' power armor and he grit his teeth in frustration.

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND LAY FACE DOWN NOW OR I OPEN FIRE!" repeated Lucas, voice a near deafening roar in the molding basement of the library as the barrels of his minigun began to rotate. Made truly terrifying and inhuman by the mild feedback, distorting his voice ever so slightly. A couple of the locals listened and dropped to the ground, hands over their heads. Their makeshift weapons thrown to the side as if they were about to explode, which judging by their condition was a very likely possibility. The others continued shooting or else began retreating further into the depths of the myriad of offices and storage rooms in the basement. Lucas didn't give them the chance.

He held down the firing studs, brass hitting the floor almost as furiously as the rounds hit the locals who had continued shooting. They barrage of 5mm rounds ripped limbs from bodies, ripped old plaster from the walls, and turned centuries old concrete into rock chips and fine dust that filled the hall like fog. When there was no more resistance, Lucas continued forwards, barrels still rotating as he thudded past the few had surrendered. Hands still held above their heads, fingers trembling.

"Don't move until I come back," warned Lucas. Pausing only briefly as a friendly IFF tag came into view, followed shortly by Sergeant Takeo Wananabe. Plasma gun held up and ready.

"Local resistance?" asked Takeo, eying the wastelanders. Voice coming in over the radios in their helmets.

"Hired help. Low threat and not looking to die. Well, these ones weren't at least and orders are clear. No unnecessary collateral damage."

"Can't believe they though that they could take you with this trash," commented Takeo, crushing a pipe pistol underneath his power armored boot.

"You and me both," muttered Lucas as they continued down towards the repository in the library.

They thudded down the hall with heavy, thundering steps, scanning with both their weapons and sensors for any threats. Despite the technology given to them, old habits died too hard to rely solely on the sensors onboard their suits. Such habits allowed Lucas to avoid a Gauss round.

It was a hole in the wall that tipped him off. Too, out of place for a lack of a better way to put it to be natural. The wall not rotted enough for it to have formed naturally. Something his suit didn't consider a threat. It was a firing slit.

"Down!" yelled Lucas, throwing himself to the side as a Gauss round passed through where he had been standing only moments before. Takeo moved in the opposite direction, firing a burst of plasma bolts into the wall, turning the stone to slag as they melted their way through, but a second gauss round hit him in the seal between his shoulder and arm. The power armor itself the only reason that he didn't lose his arm entirely when it struck him. A third shot punching through the wall by Takeo's head and through a dozen more rooms after.

The barrels on Lucas' minigun sped up and he crushed down the firing studs, obliterating the wall that the shots had come from and raking the stream of bullets left to right. Putting 400 rounds into the room before using his power armor as a battering ram and crashing through the wall itself, eyes glowing a hellish yellow.

A wounded Brotherhood knight in T-45d power armor stood with a now broken gauss rifle mere feet from Lucas. At point blank range, the minigun turned what was left of the knight to paste.

"Takeo, status?"

"Finish them!" came the pained response.

"Roger," was all Lucas said and pushed further into the repository, seeing a couple of unfortunate souls who had been caught by his barrage of 5mm rounds. A pair of Brotherhood members in robes with a few more orifices as well as some of their hired help who had been unlucky enough to catch some of the bullet spray. One, almost perfectly intact save for the single hole in her head.

There was a scuff of a boot on the tile floor and Lucas turned his minigun towards a row of filing cabinets.

"Come out into the open with your on your head! Throw any weapons you have into the center of the room and don't make any sudden movements or I will open fire."

"O-okay," came the timid response and a laser pistol bounced and clattered off of the tiled floor. A moment later, a girl who was at most 20 came into view, hands firmly on her head, Brotherhood robes swaying as she walked. Bottom lip trembling as she looked at Lucas, eyes fearful.

"I'm not resisting. I'm not. Just...just tell me what you want me to do. I don't want to die," said the scribe, voice cracking as she did so.

She looked so damned much like Cassidy had. Too damned much and she was little more than a kid, though Lucas doubted that he was anymore than seven years older than she was. Lucas suddenly felt very much like the monsters he had fought several lifetimes ago. He had fought the Communists in Alaska because of this very thing. Because they executed those who surrendered. Because they killed those who they didn't need to, who were too young to have to die. They acted like machines, merely following orders, no matter how grisly those orders were.

The others had been legitimate threats. Trained all their lives to fight and armed with the best weapons around, rivaling even what the Enclave carried in some cases. This girl though, was none of that.

"If you want to live you'll do exactly as I say," said Lucas, but more quietly so that his voice wouldn't carry.

"Sure. Sure, whatever you want."

"Move over by the dead merc in the leather armor. Slowly."

"Okay. I-I'm going."

"Good. Not take her armor off."

"What?" asked the scribe confused.

"Take her armor off and put it on, then put your holotag and robes on her. Do it now."

The young woman looked as if she was about to protest, but the minigun trained on her quelled any objections about stripping down in front of a stranger. So she set about the grisly task of stripping the corpse of its clothing and putting her own on it. The two having been of similar size so the change in apparel didn't look too outlandish. Not that many clothes were tailor made now.

"Back away from the body," said Lucas and the brotherhood scribe did, now dressed in tanned and hardened leathers.

She cringed and covered her ears as Lucas raked the dead body with 5mm rounds, tearing it to pieces and making it unrecognizable save for the remains of the robes.

"If you want to live you were never part of the brotherhood. You know nothing of them other than they paid you to help look for holotapes and intact books. When you are questioned, you don't know how to read or how to write, understand? Are you a good shot?"

The girl gave a quick and stunned nod.

"Good. You were this mercenary, nothing more."

Lucas felt a hard pit forming in his stomach at what he had just done. Afraid that he would be found to be disobeying orders, but at the same tame he felt peace in his soul. He had chosen to spare a life instead of end one needlessly.

The girl though scared, did exactly as Lucas had instructed her. His superiors never knowing the difference. The only problem being that she didn't know exactly how to survive on her own, which Lucas didn't realize at the time, but quickly became his problem.

AN: I always wanted a viewpoint Enclave story and while not entirely 'nice' per say, they will be much more pragmatic with lessons learned. Be sure to leave a review and tell me what you think and thank you as always for reading.