2. Still Standing
The mission had gone wrong from the very beginning. The Commonwealth was in no way friendlier than the Capital Wasteland, as Recon Squad Gladius had found out first-hand. The unfortunate encounter with raiders they had experienced upon arrival paled in comparison with what was yet to come. Sure, it had been embarrassing to be overpowered by a ragtag bunch of thieves, but all seven of them had survived. Paladin Danse had ordered them to set up in Cambridge Police Station so they would have a secure base to fall back to.
That base soon became a house of unpleasant thoughts and memories for all of them. Each time they returned from a mission, the normally ever-present squad banter grew quieter. The constant destruction of equipment on their operations, failure to achieve mission targets and above all, the loss of people, was wearing all of them down.
Danse looked around in the entrance hall of their makeshift base. It had looked almost like a luxury hotel to them when they had arrived – sure, the paint was peeling and parts of the building had collapsed, blocking their way to upper floors, but they had a roof over their head and the walls were sound enough so they only had to protect the entrance. With a bit of searching, they had even been able to procure enough mattresses for everyone so they did not have to sleep in shifts.
In his mind, he could still see all of them sitting there, sharing stories and occasionally having a post-mission drink. Danse never joined for the last bit and tried to discourage his squad from overindulging, but even he knew better than to ban alcohol entirely. With everything these people had to endure, they deserved the downtime. Even the Paladin had nearly decided to join for a drink after their last loss as he was running out of weapons to clean in order to keep his mind off the painful memory.
Knight Keane was sitting at the table, sharing a meal with Scribe Haylen. Danse was glad to have both of them still alive. He could be a good leader, but keeping up the spirits of the squad between missions had never been his forte, these two soldiers outclassed him in that regard. Danse shook his head bitterly. Can I even call myself a good leader anymore? If I were, there would be three more knights joining for that meal.
The only remaining squad member besides Keane and the Scribe was Rhys. He chose solitude over the quiet chatter the other two were engaged in, sitting on his mattress and eating straight out of a can. He had not been the same soldier, not since Brach had stepped on that mine at Corvega. They had clearly meant a lot to each other, Rhys had not been that close to any other brother.
The loss of Brach, Worwick and Dawes was weighing down on Danse most of all. He respected and valued all of his soldiers equally, but that last death had felt personal. At least they could give the others a proper burial. But Knight-Sergeant Dawes… he had to be left at Fort Strong, the super mutant forces had been overwhelming and they had no way of retrieving his body. Dawes never even stood a chance.
Danse's fists curled up in anger as the scene replayed in his head. It was all his fault. He should have been at the head of the squad; he should have ordered Dawes to stay back. The Knight had gotten a bit too far ahead, scouting out one of the buildings that were scattered in ruins around the fort. He hadn't seen the sledgehammer coming until it was too late. Danse had witnessed a lot in his time of service, but the way Dawes' head just disintegrated into bits of skull and brain matter left even him chilled to the bone.
Though they could not secure the assets at Fort Strong, the squad did avenge his death. The guilty mutant was shot down by Danse personally. Blinded by his rage, he had been very close to not giving the orders to retreat. The only thing stopping him from launching himself against the growing number of abominations creeping out from their hiding places had been the paper-white face of Haylen. Seeing the horror on her face had forced him to think of those who were still alive, those he could still protect.
The feeling of failure was alleviated only by the findings of Haylen as they retreated to their base in shame. She had picked up on odd energy readings that belonged to the Institute. The location of the shadowy organisation had never been found, so this information was of utmost importance and had to be reported to the Elder immediately. Danse wished he knew more about repairing electrical equipment – as competent as Haylen was, even she was struggling with getting the radio antenna to work and could probably use some help.
Noticing his hands were still in fists, Danse tried to relax his body. No use in dwelling over the people he had lost. He would have plenty of time to do that later. For now, his mission was to get in contact with the Elder. "Haylen, report on your progress with the antenna." She had to slightly crane her neck to look at her superior. "I've managed to fix the radio tower and modify it to our needs, but I'm afraid it just isn't enough. The signal is too weak to reach the range we need." She set down the cup she had been holding and stood up.
"If I may, sir, I think I have found the solution though. I was about to report after the meal." Haylen looked almost sheepish. She was brilliant, but occasionally forgot to inform the others of the information she had or how to explain things plainly enough for non-Scribes to understand. Worwick had come closest to understanding the Scribe's work, but the Haylen-to-soldier translator was now gone. "Proceed," Danse encouraged her to part with the information. "And in normal English, please."
Haylen grinned and grabbed a stack of papers she had piled on a nearby cabinet. "I had been going over these maps I found in the chief's office. Close to our location, there is a building that should have exactly what we need to amplify the signal." She shuffled through the papers to find the map she needed, unfolded it in one swift move and tapped her index finger on ArcJet Systems on the discoloured paper. "According to my data, there should be a Deep Range Transmitter here."
"Outstanding, Scribe." Suddenly remembering he had probably not eaten since the previous evening, Danse ordered the others to finish their meal and get ready for the new mission. His weapons were already cleaned and lined up, so he allowed himself to take a seat and enjoy a quick lunch. Enjoy may have been too strong a word for it though. As a soldier, he was used to surviving on military rations and the endless array of tinned food, but a nice roast would be a welcome change.
"I think I heard something." Knight Keane grabbed his weapon and made for the door to inspect. Danse dropped his half-empty tin of beans. Keane's instincts were rarely wrong and the urgency in his voice was not promising anything pleasant. Within a minute everyone was equipped and out the door, with Danse clunking in front of them in power armour. The perimeter they had set up around the entrance area was still clear, but a quick glance beyond their barricades explained the noise Keane had heard. Moving with startling speed, a group of feral ghouls was launching themselves towards the fortifications. Danse lifted his trusty Righteous Authority, face saturated with disgust. Ghouls were his most hated abominations, with the sole exception of super mutants who deserved to be wiped out with a load of mini-nukes.
The squad had started out with the belief that this would be a quick scum-cleaning intermission before they headed for their main mission of the day. After a gruesome hour, new ferals still kept pushing on, stumbling over the dead bodies of their predecessors. Danse could see Keane getting tired and starting to make mistakes, his rifle missing more than it hit. He had still not fully recovered from the raider assault and Danse had already expressed his doubts over him joining for the mission at Fort Strong, but Keane had been stubborn as ever.
"Keane, pull back!" Danse took out another ghoul that had nearly reached his soldier who was either not hearing the Paladin or choosing not to hear. Damnit. "Knight Keane, retreat to the station! That is an order!" Keane turned his face towards Danse with a near-disoriented look on his face. His arms were covered in bleeding gashes from all the ferals that he had not managed to gun down in time. He should have stayed behind.
"Danse, ahead!" shouted Haylen, cutting through the noise of the approaching horde. Danse's gaze snapped back to the opening in the barricade and he let out a quiet curse. This had got to be the biggest onslaught so far. "Haylen, go send out a distress call!" he barked behind him. "We need assistance!" To make sure she got back to the police station, he provided cover for the Scribe sprinting towards the door from the barricade she had been crouching behind. Sudden movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention just as the door fell shut behind Haylen.
For a brief second, everything seemed to be standing still. Before Danse could react and pull the trigger to mow down the approaching ghoul, the abomination launched itself at the throat of Keane who had fallen to the asphalt just moments before. "NO!" shouted Danse, a familiar feeling of helplessness and rage taking over. Not another one, I can't lose another soldier. In two steps, he was at Keane's body, punching the ghoul with the fist of his power armour. The creature flew off like a ragdoll, but the damage was done. He was late. I have failed him.
He didn't even get the chance to transport the body to safety before the giant horde was upon them, ripping apart the remains of Keane and forcing the remaining two soldiers to retreat towards the doors. With their backs nearly to the wall, the only thing they could hope for was a miracle. "I sent the distress call!" Haylen had returned, taking her position slightly behind the two soldiers. It was an unspoken rule that she was never on the frontline. The Scribe had to be protected. Even if the frontline had shrunk to two people, they had a duty to keep her alive. As pained as they were to lose another Knight, they knew the squad would be lost in this hostile corner of the great Wasteland without their Scribe, not to mention that strictly speaking, she was a civilian.
Against all odds, they managed to hold out for another hour. Danse considered barricading themselves inside, but even then it would be only a matter of time until the ghouls would break through and they might lose another squad member while retreating.
Rhys was the first one to go down. He was a good soldier, but even he could not clear the area around them anymore. "Pull him back," ordered Danse, but he didn't really need to say it. Haylen had already dropped her gun and was dragging the cursing soldier away from the centre of the action as Danse tried to give them space by shooting everything that tried to get too close. Oddly enough, he could have sworn that some ghouls were not taken down by his weapon. There had to be someone else nearby, judging by the crippled ghouls on the ground.
With Rhys set in a seated position against the wall, Haylen rushed back to grab her weapon. She knew it should never be dropped, but Danse could not be angry with her at that point. At least Rhys was still alive. Speaking of alive… there is something happening on the bridge. I could swear I saw someone's head. The ghouls storming the stairs to his right had alerted Danse to the presence of someone on top of the fortifications and after a closer look, he felt stunned. By steel, that's a civilian.
With Haylen taking care of the ghouls that remained on the ground, Danse focused his attention on sniping down the abominations above. I swear, if there is going to be another dead body on my watch… Danse didn't finish the thought. The last of the attackers fell, leaving the stranger on the bridge frantically gasping for air as she tried to catch her breath.
Of all the reckless things today… By steel, if I had not noticed her and shot her down for a ghoul? What the hell was she thinking? "Civilian, state your business!" He didn't even notice he was still pointing his gun at the bridge as he demanded information, his voice nearly a growl. "Can you at least lower your gun?" requested the woman, sounding shaky from the battle. Danse scowled, realising he had been accidentally targeting her, and pointed Righteous Authority towards the asphalt.
The stranger wore the weirdest outfit Danse had seen in a long time. Neither the ragged clothes nor the mismatched pieces of leather armour seemed to be her size. The way she approached the Brotherhood soldiers made her look almost as if she were approaching wild animals and the impression grew only stronger when he saw the cautious look in her eyes. However, the flippant response she gave to Danse's repeated question seemed very conflicting with her appearance. "I'm a pest exterminator. Saw you had a bit of a zombie problem."
Danse brushed off the odd word usage, scowling at the insolence. "Evading my questions is a sure-fire way of getting yourself ejected from the compound." His usual stare-down seemed to work on the civilian as she offered a much more appropriate explanation and showed her Pip-Boy. That raised more questions than it answered though. Who was this woman? Why did she feel compelled to help them? And why the hell would she sneak in like that, if she was here to help?
Danse expressed the last of his thoughts in a slightly angrier tone than intended. Easy now. As foolish as her actions were, she is not to blame for your mistakes and inadequacies. To his surprise, she did not seem to be fazed by his anger, answering with another smart quip about not realising she should have stepped up and announced her arrival before shooting. His annoyance started building up again, but Haylen stepped in to defuse the situation. He was almost ready to move past the stranger's cheekiness and attempt to recruit her to help with the mission – which still had to be accomplished, even with Rhys down – when she suddenly said something that broke his train of thought. She had never encountered ghouls or even heard of them? "Where have you been living, civilian, a vault?"
She seemed to be thrown off by the question, acquiring the look of a spooked radstag for a brief moment. Something wasn't quite right here. "Uh, no idea," came the unexpected answer. She seemed to be as confused by what she had just said as were the others around her. The clumsy explanation about memory loss was clearly a lie. Beggars can't be choosers, so Danse deliberately ignored the ridiculous story as to not scare the stranger away. He could find out later why she felt the need to lie. She was the only non-hostile human he had encountered in the Commonwealth aside from his own squad, so this would have to do.
"Well, whoever you are, we are grateful for the help." The woman was visibly relaxing, clearly thinking that her ruse had been bought. Danse introduced himself and the remaining two members of his squad and then stopped for a moment to inspect the potential recruit more thoroughly. She didn't look entirely weak, but by steel, she was scrawny. Danse suspected that if she'd remove the leather pads, her shoulders would jut out, not unlike the knee that had escaped her trousers that seemed to be held together by pure hope and copious amounts of tape. Her legs sported several nasty scratches from the ghouls that had pinned her down and some other marks that looked suspiciously like bug bites.
Her arms were equally covered in dirt, ghoul spatters and slightly older injuries that had evidently not been properly cleaned. Still, all of that could be fixed with a bit of washing, some bandages and generous meals. What was most important was the clear look in her eyes. Her part-hesitant, part-insolent attitude and even the mess of ginger hair around her head reminded him of the firecracker with whom he had joined the Brotherhood. He had been a fine soldier, if a bit rough around the edges. There is potential. Even Danse himself wasn't sure whether he actually saw something in this scraggy woman or it was his desperation speaking when he offered her a job.
If anyone was more shocked than the stranger, it had to be Rhys. Danse should have guessed this he would take it as an insult. Rhys had singlehandedly managed to scare away several recruits as he deemed them to be filthy scavengers out for money, with no higher ideals. Danse was grateful for Haylen's help as she managed to remove Rhys from the situation to start cleaning his wound that was obviously giving the soldier a lot of pain.
However, the stranger was not convinced by his offer. "I don't join up with people I don't know." Smart move, I would also remain cautious with an unknown group. Danse did his best to explain the situation and the purpose of the Brotherhood without giving away any sensitive information. He really needed her to be persuaded by this. The mission did not seem overly difficult, so in a normal situation he could just take Haylen with him to take care of the technological parts. As it was, Rhys could barely stand without support and Danse was not about to leave a wounded soldier at the base without backup, so Haylen had to stay.
To his great relief, he had apparently said something right, seeing as the woman agreed to help the squad out. "Welcome to our base," he said with thinly veiled pride in his voice as they stepped in the police station. Despite everything they had gone through, the squad still had a chance to succeed in their main mission. Rhys was openly glaring at the newcomer, causing Danse to suppress a sigh. I will have to talk to him later. Perhaps I can alleviate some of the anger he must be feeling.
"Haylen, when you are done with patching him up, could you see what you can do for-" Danse paused, turning his glance towards the other woman. "We do not know your name."
Once more, the stranger looked slightly uncomfortable. "Fox. You can call me Fox."
Glad to put a name to the face, Danse continued: "See what you can do for Fox's injuries. Get her some equipment as well, I recall finding some fatigues in one of the lockers." With a sprightly "Yes sir!", Haylen wrapped up with Rhys and made herself busy with assisting Fox.
Danse did his best not to pace around while waiting. He needed something to go right for a change, even if it was just a simple sweep and retrieve operation. It felt like it had been ages when Fox finally reported for duty. With her wounds expertly cleaned and bandaged by Haylen and the rags swapped for military fatigues, she looked considerably more fit for the mission. Sure, the clothes were too big for her tiny frame and the utility belt that held the outfit together only accentuated the fact, but for this one field operation it would do. Danse nearly laughed when he noticed she had taped the trouser bottoms, creating strange bell-shaped formations just above her boots to stop the trousers from tripping her. She had applied the same procedure to the sleeves, though it did not seem to work well enough as she kept pushing the sleeves upwards on her freckled arms.
The rumble of her stomach cut through Danse's musings. "When is the last time you ate?" he inquired. Fox frowned, counting something on her fingers. "A day ago?" she said hesitantly. Danse pointed at the closest chair. "Sit. A hungry soldier is a distracted soldier." Fox didn't even argue, taking a seat and gratefully accepting whatever was on offer. Danse had never seen anyone look so excited over a tin of Pork n' Beans. Her expression changed rapidly after the first bite. "How old is this?"
Haylen picked up the tin, grabbed a bite with her fork and shrugged. "Seems normal to me. As fresh as a centuries-old meal can be." Danse observed the rapid succession of emotions on Fox's face with growing curiosity as the woman was trying to overcome whatever internal turmoil she was going through. Danse was not the best at reading emotions, but he thought he had spotted at least disbelief and anger before Fox managed to get her face under control. Odd. And at least for now, none of my business. We have more important matters to deal with.
Once Fox had finished her meal and they were ready to set out, Danse did the final check for equipment. Both of them were in somewhat proper gear (Danse obviously suited up in his power armour) and had sufficient ammo to neutralise any threats they might encounter on their way to ArcJet Systems. "Time to head out," announced Danse, flipped the helmet in his hands and slid it on his head in one fluid motion. Fox raised her eyebrows. "Again with this unfair distribution, where's my helmet?"
"Catch." Rhys tossed something in her direction so fast that she had barely time to react. Fox snorted in amusement as she saw what the object was. "This has got to be the most hideous excuse for a helmet that I've ever seen." Danse could have bet on Rhys having had the same thought as he found it in the station. That would explain his generosity towards the rookie. "Well, as I look absolutely ridiculous already, might as well finish the outfit," shrugged Fox with a chortle and pushed the helmet down on her head. It hid her eyes, so she tipped it back just in time to witness the badly suppressed grins of the squad.
"At least if you lose her in the building, you can just look for the lopsided melon," suggested Haylen, the only one who didn't even bother hiding her laughter anymore. She tilted her head to inspect the misshapen metal helmet properly. "Could also be a badly beaten mirelurk shell."
Fox knocked on the rim of the helmet. "As long as it keeps my noggin' safe!" Observing the banter of the two women, Danse couldn't help but think that Fox's joking felt as if she was putting on a show for the benefit of others.
They headed out through the narrow rubble-covered alley next to the police station, Danse leading the way and Fox following in silence. Danse had to occasionally check whether she was still there as she could barely hear her footsteps over the clunking of his power armour. Something seemed to be creaking oddly, he'd have to check that out after they get back. Hopefully it will be a quick fix. If not, he would be back on Prydwen soon enough and then he could ask for a proper check-up from Ingram.
The fog was so thick that Danse could barely see even five metres ahead of them. It made him feel cautious as anything or anyone could be hiding under such convenient cover. "Try not to lag behind," he warned, turning his head to check on Fox. She was still keeping up, but Danse could see her being slightly out of breath. Of course, she must be half-running to keep up with me. Danse slowed down to make sure she would still be of use once they reach the facility.
Their journey was rather uneventful, save for a small raider ambush and the mishap at the crossing where they encountered some dead scavengers with bodies of ghouls scattered around them. Fox thought she saw some useful salvage and triggered a nearby mine as she stepped closer to inspect. Danse felt his heart stop for a moment when he heard the ominous beeping. He refused to lose another person to a mine. Fortunately, he had underestimated his companion's speed – Fox darted in the opposite direction, throwing herself flat on the ground and covering her head just before the explosion made the ground shake. She took Danse's stern lecture about wandering off without any complaints or justifying herself. Her face was pale from the shock, but she confirmed she was ready to move on as Danse asked her the question.
Danse stopped her just before they were about to head inside ArcJet Systems. "Listen, we do this clean and quiet. No heroics, by the book. Understood?" Fox nodded. "Stay focused and check your fire. I don't want to be hit by stray bullets." He had almost opened the door before he turned around once more. "And no deviating from our course. I do not want you triggering any defence systems or injuring yourself."
Fox scrunched her nose in disdain. "Yes, I got that part very clearly. I'll be practically sticking to your heel, don't worry."
The building looked ransacked. Every possible piece of furniture was turned over, with drawers and scraps of documents all over the place. An eerie silence enveloped the hall, giving Danse a shiver and forcing him to move on a bit faster than intended. Reaching a room with heaps of broken protectrons, Danse indicated Fox to stay back until he had inspected the area. As she was allowed to enter, she shook her head in disbelief. "Such a waste."
Danse pointed at the ground. "Look at the evidence. There isn't a single spent ammunition case or a drop of blood in sight. These robots were assaulted by Institute synths."
Fox raised her brows in confusion. "Synths?" Of course she would not know synths, if she couldn't even identify ghouls.
They're an abuse of technology created by the Institute," explained Danse with distaste in his voice. "Mechanical abominations, meant to improve upon humanity. It's unacceptable, they simply cannot be allowed to exist." He wasn't even surprised when the next question was about the Institute. "They're a group of scientists who went underground when the Great War started. They have spent the last few decades littering the Commonwealth with their technological nightmares."
Fox seemed to be surprisingly unfazed by this information. If anything, she looked slightly amused. "It sounds like you're scared of synths."
She couldn't see his scowl as he was still wearing his helmet. "There is a measurable difference between being frightened and being prepared." Whatever world she is living in, I nearly envy her. Not even knowing about some of the biggest threats in the Wasteland must be so liberating, however naïve it might be.
Exploring the sprawling compound, they finally came upon a dead end. The room was littered with destroyed desks and technology, with the only doors lodged shut. "See if you can find a way to open the doors," he commanded Fox, pointing the butt of his rifle towards the only desks that had remained upright. "I'll be on the lookout. There is something off about this place."
It took a while, but Fox managed to find a terminal that was still functional. "Got it!" she exclaimed victoriously after some quiet muttering and typing. "The security on most of these is a joke. The doors should open in just a moment." Danse gave her an appraisive look, though she couldn't tell through his helmet. Not even Haylen gets through the security on most terminals that fast.
Regrettably, her combat skills didn't even begin to touch her level of terminal hacking. Facing a squadron of synths just behind the newly opened doors, Fox was more a distraction than she was useful. Trying to take cover behind an upturned desk a bit further from Danse's position, she didn't notice getting flanked from the other side. Instead of heading to a better vantage point, Danse was forced to shoot his way through a wave of synths to reach the table, getting the visor of his power armour damaged in the process. "I told you to stick with me, soldier!" seethed Danse after crushing the last synth with his armoured fist.
Fox looked up at him with a similarly angry expression. "Not a soldier," she reminded him with a deep scowl, gingerly touching the arm that had gotten singed by a laser. "Listen, I can't barge in like you do! You seem to forget some people don't come equipped with cover! What hell the do you expect me to do, just hide myself behind you?"
"If that's what it takes to survive, yes!" barked Danse back, reaching out his hand to help the wounded companion up. Fox decided to stubbornly ignore that and clambered up from behind the desk on her own, wincing from pain. "Look, I don't know what's your problem, but I am voluntary help, remember? I'm no fucking soldier and I have no idea what the fuck do you expect from me. Why did you even bring me along if anything I do is wrong?"
For nearly a minute, they stared at each other in silence, both refusing to speak. "I'm not good with electronics." Danse's begrudging statement broke through Fox's frustration. She stared at him for a moment, corners of her mouth quivering upwards. "That's it? You brought me along to deal with terminals?" She shook her head in amusement. "That's colossally stupid of you, considering you had no bloody idea I could even start one."
"Watch your tone." Danse was irritated, but he could not deny she had a point there. "Knight Rhys was down, so I could not bring Haylen with me either as I need to keep backup with an injured serviceman in case of an emergency. Truth be told, I had no proof of your capability other than seeing some ghouls taken down, but heading out alone would not have been a good idea. Most areas secured by electronic means can be accessed by brute force as well, but it is more time-costly. I at least needed someone to act as a lookout in those instances."
Fox seemed to accept that explanation. She pointed at the ramp heading to the next floor. "Alright then, Mr. Tin Can. After you."
Their mission went on more smoothly after that incident, with Fox mostly staying further to provide minor fire support and Danse doing all the heavy lifting in the form of vaporising anything in their way with his laser rifle. "This is it, the engine core section." Danse nodded at the heavy doors they had just reached. "Shouldn't be far now." Fox grinned with slight effort. "Good, this helmet is driving me insane." Danse suspected that the helmet was less of a problem than the injuries she had sustained, but he chose not to comment on that.
They were surprised by darkness as Danse pushed the doors open. "Looks like the power is out in this section." He switched on his headlamp. "You'll have to stick close to me as I did not think of providing you with a flashlight."
In response, a light flickered to life right next to him. "No need, my Pip-Boy has one built in," retorted Fox. "But no worries, I'll be hiding behind you anyway. Unless I see a cosy-looking desk."
"Not funny." By steel, she is infuriating. I will let it slip for now, but I will have to do something about that attitude if she's joining.
Before long, they reached the main reactor chamber. To their great dismay, the elevators that would take them up to the control room were not operational due to the power outage. The only way forward was down, so that's where they headed. "There has to be a power backup system somewhere," Danse thought out loud as they descended the rickety spiral staircase.
Fox nodded. "Yeah, the maintenance area should be right about here. If I can't fix the power supply, there should at least be a way to switch on auxiliary power. That is, if the maintenance room isn't entirely trashed."
"You get on that then; I will stand guard so we don't get any more surprises." Danse assumed his position near the entrance to the maintenance area, rifle at the ready. He didn't need to wait for long before the lights turned on and an announcement echoed through the room: "Thermal engine fuelled, primed and standing by for your command." Before the robotic voice finished, Danse spotted movement towards the top of the spiral staircase. "We've got incoming!" he shouted as a warning. He automatically oriented himself with his back towards the doorway to shield his less armoured companion.
"Stay back!" he ordered, sniping one enemy after the other. The synths kept swarming down the stairs, shooting at Danse from every angle. She would be fried in seconds. "They just keep on coming!" We are not going to make it like this. I have to make sure at least one of us gets out. He had to shout so Fox would hear her over the lasers. "Start the thermal engine!"
He had to curse at Fox's point-blank refusal to follow his order. "Like hell I will!" she shouted from the maintenance room. "Fuck, I'm not going to cook you in there!" Now also ignoring his previous orders to stay back, she cocked her pistol and joined the battle.
This time she was literally using his hulking frame as a shield, leaning out of cover whenever she could take a shot. This worked a lot better than her previous tactics. The balance between her hits and misses was leaning heavily towards the latter, but Danse couldn't blame her, not when she was using such a sub-par weapon (that pistol had definitely seen better days) and when facing an enemy that was unknown to her.
Just as he thought the rush of synths would never end, Fox shot down the last one and there was silence. No more metal bodies dropping from the top or scattering down the stairs. The floor was covered in broken synth parts, some of them still smoking from the laser. Danse's power armour had suffered some damage, but it was nothing Proctor Ingram wouldn't be able to fix. Even his maddeningly stubborn companion seemed to be fine, save for a few new singes that were really nothing compared to the one she had received earlier.
"Well, that was fun," commented Fox. Her tone suggested the opposite. "Let's save the part where you shout at me for insubordination for later, if that's fine by you. And for the record, my response would still be the same: not a soldier." Danse opened his mouth in anger, but shut it again without a response. The mission comes first.
A similar procedure repeated after they had taken the elevator up – the control room was infested with synths that opened fire the moment they noticed the humans approaching. Fox used Danse's power-armoured body as cover and provided fire assistance. Her shooting was still substandard, but at least she was of some help and did not step out in the open, so the amount of injuries was minimal this time.
Turns out the synths had also been after the Deep Range Transmitter and one of them had already managed to grab it. They could have easily ended up shooting through it in the heat of the battle, so they could count themselves very lucky to find it still in one piece. "Asset secured and seemingly in working order," stated Danse with relief after a quick inspection. "Well done."
The journey back to the police station was spent mostly in silence. It had gotten dark while they were clearing out the compound, so they had to illuminate the way in order to not stumble upon fallen trees or rogue mines. Fox did not seem overly chatty and Danse reminded himself not to scare her off by being too cross about the disobedience she had displayed. After all, she was a civilian. It could not be expected that she would be following military protocol if it she hadn't been taught that before.
Just before they reached the police station, Fox broke the silence. "Well, all-in-all I'd say that was a successful mission." Looking at the big picture, Danse had to agree with that. However, his plans had not included nearly seeing the civilian being blown up or fried by lasers. Several times. "It could have gone smoother."
Fox chuckled. "What, you don't normally have squad members playing hide and seek with you on a mission?"
Danse fought back a sigh. "As I said, could have gone smoother. But the main thing is that we're both alive and the transmitter has been secured. The details are secondary. In any case, this went better than if I had to do it alone. Your skill with electronics came in handy and even though you're not the best shot, you did take some of them down."
"Uh, thanks," responded Fox, not entirely sure how to take that assessment. "So, what happens now? I return the equipment and go on my merry way?"
Danse stopped, pulling off his helmet and setting it down on the barricade next to him. Some conversations called for eye-to-eye contact. "It's up to you. Of course, you will get compensated for your assistance. In fact, let us get that out of the way first." He flipped his laser rifle, handing it to Fox stock first. "I think you will find this useful. I may not be a terminal hacking kind of guy, but I do know a thing or two about laser weapons. This is my personal modification of the standard Brotherhood laser rifle."
Fox grabbed the weapon hesitantly. "Are you sure? That seems like rather disproportionate compensation. Besides, it's your personal weapon." She tried to return the rifle, but Danse pushed it back with a gentle move. "This isn't the only weapon at my disposal. With the pistol you have, you might as well be using a BB gun. Clearly, you need Righteous Authority a lot more than I do."
Fox snorted out loud at the last bit. "Righteous Authority? You named your gun?" Danse shot a glare in the woman's direction, warning her to stop. She ignored the hint, her grin growing only wider. "And at that, what a pompous name!" Fox chuckled, ignoring Danse's annoyance levels that were visibly rising. "I shall avenge these deaths with RIIGHTEOOUUS AUTHOORITY!"
"That is enough," cut Danse through her clear mockery. "If the rifle is not to your liking, you may return it to me." That seemed to put a stop to Fox's merriment at his expense, or at least she attempted to regain a more serious face.
"I'm sorry," she offered an apology, propping the rifle on her back. "I really am grateful. It's just that… I'm really bad at dealing with such situations. Usually people don't really thank me for help like that; they are more likely to try to find a way to weasel out of any kind of payment, unless they decide to take the extra step and stab me in the back to show their gratitude."
Weasel out? What on earth is she saying? Danse decided not to ask. "Apology accepted. With this matter out of the way, I have a proposal to make." For a moment, Fox looked like she was about to make another wisecrack, but she let him continue without interruptions this time. "We had a lot thrown at us back there. Our op could have ended in a complete disaster, but working together, we managed to carry out the operation with only minor casualties. I am not going to talk about the clear disobedience you showed during the mission, since as you very clearly stated, you are not a soldier."
To his great surprise, Fox was still listening to him in silence, arms clasped behind her back. "The way I see it, you have a choice to make," continued Danse, his voice getting saturated with pride as his speech was reaching its culmination. "You could spend the rest of your life wandering from place to place, trading an extra hand for a meagre reward."
"Indeed, not everyone goes around handing out their personal weapons to people who look like they are wearing a melon on their head," quipped Fox, unable to remain silent any longer. Damnit, Fox, couldn't you have given me just this one moment?
Thrown off track, Danse continued with slightly decreased vigour. "Or, as I was about to say," he looked at her pointedly, "You could join the Brotherhood of Steel and make your mark on the world."
Fox was taken aback. "Wait, seriously? You're not joking?" The Paladin stared at her, thick eyebrows once again scrunched together at the root of his nose. "I do not joke with serious matters such as this. You are in no way a perfect recruit and your combat skills are in serious need of improvement, but there is potential."
"Also, you have no better options," responded Fox half-jokingly. Danse sighed in agreement. "And also, I have no better options. The main mission of my squad has been difficult and riddled with problems I could not even anticipate. You happen to be the first non-hostile we have seen for weeks."
Fox was left pondering for a moment. "What would be expected of me? I am potentially interested, but I need to know what I'd be getting involved with." She leaned back against the barricade, making herself comfortable. Or as comfortable as one can be with singed skin and some nasty gashes from having close encounters with laser weapons. Haylen is going to have to patch her up again. I hope we still have enough bandages.
"You would be under my command. And I would expect you to follow orders." Danse allowed himself a small smile, already knowing that would probably be one of the things she would struggle with the most. Fox nodded. "Well, I'd be losing my not a soldier excuse, so fair enough. What else?"
"You would be taking part in the missions of Recon Squad Gladius, working alongside the others. You would also have access to the same resources as them, including advanced military weapons and, in the future, your own personal suit of power armour." Danse's voice adopted a formal tone, emphasising the importance of the message. "Most importantly, you would have the Brotherhood at your back, ready to spill its own blood to keep you alive. So, what do you say to the offer?"
Danse looked at her expectantly. Fox took her sweet time, folding her arms on her chest and staring into distance until Danse started to feel uncomfortable. "I am interested, but I have some conditions," said Fox just before Danse was about to enquire whether she had suddenly turned mute. She fixed her eyes on the Paladin's, jaw squared with determination.
"I will help you set up the Deep Range Transmitter, should Haylen need assistance with that. I will also familiarise myself with the requirements of being a Brotherhood soldier and take part in missions. However, I will require time off between the missions to take care of some personal business." She paused to take a deep breath. "And on that topic, I need access to the information on Brotherhood terminals."
Danse pondered this for a moment and shook his head. "You are asking an awful lot for a new recruit. The personal time I can grant, at least until we get contacted by the Elder. But access to sensitive information is not mine to give." There we go again, that spooked radstag look has returned. "Fox, I have a counterproposal." With her voice ever so slightly shaking, Fox uttered quietly that she was listening.
"Listen, I know that something is wrong here and you clearly have some kind of personal motivation to get inside the Brotherhood. You must understand that it looks more than a little suspicious. So how about you try being honest with me and tell me what is it that you need help with and in return I will try to find a way to make it work in a way that benefits us both?"
Fox's glance darted around as she seemed to be assessing the closest way out of that situation. Danse took a step back, giving her space. She would either start talking or running eventually and he had all the time in the world. Except that he needed to deliver the Deep Range Transmitter to Haylen, but that could easily wait another half-hour.
Having made a decision, Fox took a deep breath and eyed the Paladin warily, still ready to dart off at a moment's notice. "Alright, I will be honest. Just mentioning that if this ends up stabbing me in the back later on, I will make sure both of us regret it sorely." She swallowed hard, gathering her courage. "I'm not used to asking for help, but I am facing something I cannot solve on my own. My family member has been kidnapped, I don't know anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland and I need someone with access to records of missing people or anything else that would set me on the right track."
Danse had noticed the wedding band on her finger, so he did not doubt this part of her story. A vengeful wife after the captors of her spouse… that explains some things, but not everything. "Alright, this covers your motivation, but leaves some other questions in the air. You have not explained the nonsense about memory loss. Why lie about something like that?" After a glance at her mortified expression, he added with a more casual tone: "Come on, you couldn't really have thought I would believe it."
"It just comes naturally," explained Fox with resignation, shoulders drooping. "The less truth you tell, the less you can be hurt. And as I have no idea who was the kidnapper or who to trust in this hellhole, I'm not going to walk about, sharing personal information with strangers I've just met." She offered a weak smile. "As opposed to strangers I have pissed off by being an awful excuse for a soldier."
Taking a small break, Fox rubbed her neck, cracking a few kinks out before continuing. "So, you want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?" Yet again, Danse chose not to ask about her weird choice of words. "The reason I know jack shit about the Commonwealth is that I am from Vault 111. My family was cryogenically frozen and I've only just escaped." There was a hint of pleading and hope in her voice now. "I have only one question: can you please tell me what year it is?"
Danse felt speechless. Cryogenically frozen? What kind of monsters were appointed as Overseers these days? "It's 2287." He had to repeat it once more before Fox seemed to register what he had said.
"2287?" she mouthed in pure shock before losing her balance and sliding into a seated position against the barrier. In a shaky move, she took off the helmet and placed it on the ground next to her to clasp her head between her hands in despair. "I've lost 210 years!?"
Now it was the Paladin's turn to be astounded at the numbers. "Excuse me? Are you trying to say you witnessed the Great War?" As she turned her face upwards to meet his, her eyes were filled with tears. "I saw the bombs fall."