Rivet City Security Chief Harkness grimaced as he swallowed what was left of his smoke. He crushed the cherry with his fingers relishing the burn he felt. He let his breath out in an irritated sigh as he glared across the bridge space at his only lieutenant.
She was an older woman with an understated beauty with whom he had shared a one-night stand three years ago and no more, and that night of passion had left her a pain in his ass ever since. She easily flirted with him and questioned his command several times. Otherwise she assumed the role of quietly confident command at his side.
He bade the memories goodbye before he approached the woman as she checked fact and figure upon the many computer terminals that occupied the massive bridge. She jotted the numbers upon her clip board and repeated them to her assistant in a monotonous voice.
Harkness approached her and sternly glared at her. She grinned humorlessly as she knew what was to come.
"Commander Danvers." Harkness asked pointedly, trying not to raise his voice.
"Chief Harkness?" She questioned, her right eyebrow arching.
"Don't play coy," Harkness demanded coming close to rolling his eyes, "Why am I not the first to know about a new traveler looking for residence on board?"
"You mean why did I allow a starving and obviously abused girl on board without your consent?" Danvers questioned, her expression changing from mirth to annoyance.
"You deliberately ignored protocol and allowed…" Harkness began harshly.
"Allowed a non-combatant to enter the city with her staunch promise to check in with customs the next morning before six." Danvers challenged.
Harkness scowled and shook his head, his eyes surveying the bridge floor.
"This ain't my first ro-day-oh Harkness."
"I should write you up." Harkness growled.
"It would be my third. But I'm too cute to let go." Danvers said, allowing a crooked grin.
"You're too good at your job." Harkness explained.
He sighed, but allowed a chuckle.
'Where is she?" Harkness demanded.
"She walked right past you on her way in, so I hear. Now who is shirking protocol?" Danvers sighed.
Harkness didn't answer, instead crossed his arms and cleared his throat.
Danvers looked back to her terminal and picked her clip board back up, continuously jotting notes.
"She's where all new potential citizens are corralled. She's in the shanty." Danvers explained off-handedly as she focused once more on her terminal notes.
Harkness hmphed, ignoring Danvers' unofficial name for the temporary residence and turned on his heel.
What am I going to do with her? He thought.
He thought once more to Danvers' lithe, fit body wrapped around him in the dim candlelight of his room. He shook his head and allowed a grin if only to himself.
"Not that." He spoke to nobody in particular.
He set off down the flight of stairs connecting the rusty aircraft carrier's bridge to the barracks below decks. His booted feet clanged against the aging steel as he roamed the narrow corridor deep in thought. The bulkhead approached too soon for him and he placed his hand upon the wheel, feeling the coolness of the metal.
He twisted it with a grunt of effort and the door locks rescinded allowing the bulkhead to open. He stepped through nodding at another security member on his way to clock in for work. Harkness descended another flight of stairs before his intended floor was discovered. Harkness entered the still open bulkhead that led into the residential rooms and his ultimate destination, the Common Area.
Harkness largely ignored the offhanded comments of passersby, except for acknowledging Vera Weatherly's attempt at a come on. He passed her swiftly before turning and entering the door jamb that had at one time included a bulkhead of its own but had been removed due to an above average swath of thieveries that had been committed two years before. The Common Area residents had at first made a fuss but after Harkness' threats of having the offending parties expelled into the wastelands, all commotion had died down.
Harkness entered without so much as a knock. He looked around to a rundown table at which was sat the disheveled young man Ted Strayer who was speaking in soft, sad tones to a sympathetically smiling blonde teenager.
Harkness cleared his throat loudly, letting his eyes narrow into an intimidating stare.
Both teenagers jumped in their seats before turning their eyes to the Chief of Security.
"Ted Strayer, nineteen. Why have you not yet gained a permanent residence?" Harkness spoke in an intimidating baritone.
"Chief Harkness, sir." Ted greeted the man timidly as he rose to his feet.
"You have been taking space in this common room for nearly six months now." Harkness spoke, crossing his arms.
"I've been talking to people, ya know? I'm looking for a job right now. Mister Bannon says he may have something for me in a day or so. After I make some money I can surely pay for a small room." Ted answered as brave as he could.
"You have two weeks to gain employment or you will be asked to leave. After you secure a job we can talk about the expected time frame in which you gain permanent residence."
Ted thanked the man sheepishly.
"Leave the room. I need to speak with our newest resident."
Ted nodded and made his way through the bulkhead, leaving the six-foot Security Chief alone in the room with a shuddering young woman.
"Name, occupation and duration of stay." Harkness spoke clearly, his eyes never straying from their narrowed profile.
Gem gulped before answering in a wavery voice.
"Gem… umm, traveler I guess… and I would like to stay indefinitely… please."
"Gem is not your name. I asked what your name is." Harkness insisted.
"Martha Crowne." Gem said reluctantly.
Harkness thought for a moment, his eyes losing their harshness.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Harkness said.
Gem turned her eyes away, not trusting herself to speak.
"Still though. You are looking to secure permanent housing?"
"Yes please." Gem answered.
"You have the caps necessary?"
"No, sir. I should have no problem securing work though."
Harkness clucked his tongue and breathed a sigh through his nose.
"What skills do you have to work with?"
"I am an avid hunter. But my father taught me the art of trading from an early age."
Harkness nodded. Gem continued, her posture shifting from unease to confidence as she spoke.
"I have made a lot of good investments in the wasteland before I was…"
Gem gulped. Harkness waved his hand impatiently.
"Before I was inconvenienced by Lucky Harith, the traveling weapon salesman."
"So, all of your earnings…"
"…All of my savings and good investments were stolen from me before I was enslaved. Every merchant I was connected with via brahmin caravans were murdered by that prick."
Gem leaned forward, her elbows touching her thighs as she spoke sadly.
"I have nothing sir, but I figured that Rivet City would be the place to make a new start."
"Why not Canterbury?" Harkness questioned.
"Canterbury is the mecca of trading caravans. But I have nothing. Not a single brahmin to my name, sir. I want to start a career solo here in Rivet city." Gem answered carefully.
"Gonna give Bannon a run for his money?" Harkness wondered.
Gem smiled.
"I'm going to give all of them a run for their money."
Harkness nodded. He narrowed his eyes again before stepping closer toward Gem.
"You have one month to show me some progress. You are to come to me and speak to me once you are able to afford a room of your own. We don't need you taking up our limited space. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Gem said, nodding her head.
"Good." Harkness said sharply before turning and leaving the room.
Gem released the breath she hadn't known she was holding before closing her eyes and allowing herself to think once more about her future plans as a merchant. She also thought about the cute nineteen-year-old she had been speaking with before they were interrupted by the Security Chief.
Gem smiled as she once more turned to the paper she had been writing outlining details for her future store. She fished in her bag and produced her meager bag of caps.
"Fifty caps." Gem mumbled under her breath. "Enough for a magazine of ten millimeters. I go raiding the subway nearby… I take a few things to sell. I could double my caps."
Gem closed her notebook and replaced it within her bag.
"No time like the present." Gem said to nobody in particular, replacing her backpack onto her shoulders and palming her bag of caps. She set her sights to the marketplace with a happy smile.
BBBBBBBB
Andrew's finger idly pressed the map button on his pip boy, his mind wondering if Gem would be alright. Would she be happy in her damp and creaky new home? He stopped at the bottom of the rusty and rickety steel scaffold that served as Rivet City's entryway deep in thought.
He felt a small bit of responsibility for the sixteen-year-old seeing as he had saved her life although his rational mind argued that the two of them were virtual strangers. He had saved her by murdering the only traveling weapon salesman that he knew of and he shivered at the thought of what the townsfolk of Megaton would think of that. Or do to him as a result.
He sighed and swiped a hand through his shaggy dirty blonde hair trying to forget about the repercussions for a moment. The sting of his skin caused him to unfold his hand before his eyes. He grimaced at the red splotches that had formed upon what used to be the soft skin of a vault dweller. Deep down Andrew knew that those sores would turn to callouses as he earned more and more experience in the wasteland.
Andrew looked up and across the Potomac at the crumbling marble structure ahead of him. He sighed, knowing that danger likely took residence within the underbelly of the Jefferson memorial and he wondered for a moment about marching back into Rivet city and asking Gem to go along with him to back him up before shooting the thought down.
She likely wants to build a new life for herself away from me. Andrew thought.
Andrew prepared himself, setting his mind to learn enough on his own through the travels he walked and the company he kept. Trials and tribulations were the only ways to learn and he gulped down the taste of bile in his throat as he thought of the pain he would likely endure before he knew enough to know better. He ran his fingers along the rough and worn wooden stock of his Chinese assault rifle, his fingertip catching a splinter. He plucked the stray wood from his finger and began walking toward the famous structure.
He remembered his and Gem's battle with the super mutants on the way to Rivet city. The iron and barb wire that made up their ambush point sat eerily silent, the massive flames of their fire on the rickety wooden pier having died down to nothing more than embers in the hours that followed the deaths of its masters.
Andrew called upon his knowledge of the mutants and gathered his rifle in his hands. He kept the safety on for fear of damaging an otherwise friendly stranger in a moment of panic, but he held the deadly weapon cradled in his hands nonetheless.
He approached the yellow metal catwalk that surrounded the Jefferson memorial cautiously, careful not to run his bare hands along the fading yellow paint. He smiled wryly at the thought of having gained the necessary information of his father's whereabouts only to die a ravaging death at the hands of gangrene.
Andrew mounted the unsafe steel scaffold and took a moment to enjoy the view. The centuries old monument of white marble stood atop a man-made hill of stone surrounding a peninsula sat in the waters of the Potomac river. A cracked blacktop road led to the visitor's center parking lot. The scaffolding that Andrew was currently standing on encompassed the entire front end of the monument.
Beneath the monument gushed dirty irradiated water in great plumes from several enormous metal tubes which ferried the harsh liquid from the interior reservoir to the small lake on the outside. A fine mist emanated from the pond from where the grand arcs of water hit the pond's surface and when the mist touched Andrew's skin he could feel a slight tingle.
Andrew turned and stepped over the lifeless body of one of the mutants that he and Gem had killed on their way to Rivet city. He stepped down onto solid ground once more and moved to the visitor's center door before holding his breath and opening the creaky blue portal.
Once inside Andrew was taken aback by the immediate darkness, but as his eyes adjusted he realized he was facing a long ornate hallway. The end of the hall was illuminated by two sets of construction lights. They were bright as day and Andrew dared not look into the blaze of the light bulbs for fear of damaging his eyes. He felt his way toward the light placing one foot in front of the other carefully to avoid the danger of tripping on the clutter that dotted the floor.
Andrew stopped still at the growl he heard from deeper into the monument. He pressed his back against the wall and clutched his assault rifle tighter in suddenly wet hands. Andrew held his breath as the massive head of one of the eight-foot-tall green mutants turned the corner, looking left and right for the strange noise he had obviously heard. The darkness concealed Andrew far better than he had thought and the mutant grunted before turning back and moving further into the monument.
"It nothing," the mutant uttered to whomever was accompanying it. "Thought I heard a noise."
Andrew dropped into a crouch and released his breath as silently as was possible. He knew he had been close to being discovered only to be saved by a quirk of fate. He knelt behind one of many sandbag walls that dotted a round room that held a duo of offices on the left and right sides. The northern wall harbored the opening into what appeared to be a hastily constructed lab.
Andrew couldn't see the rest of the circular room before him but the test tubes, science equipment and blinking terminals set upon metal desks confirmed that the immediate room had been used as a lab of some sort.
Andrew watched silently from his position as two green skinned lumbering brutes skulked past him and back toward the hallway without noticing him. They were grumbling about their hunger and Andrew knew more than anything that he did not want to be a part of their menu.
Andrew shambled away from the safety of his sandbag wall as soon as the mutants had turned the corner and made his way as swiftly as possible into the circular room. As he stalked his way around the room he saw his destination. A black and gold plaque on the wall pointed to a solitary blue door. The engraving on the plaque designated the entryway as the door to the Jefferson memorial rotunda. A smattering of graffiti beneath the plaque read "Project Purity" and Andrew knew he had the right door.
However much to Andrew's chagrin, the door was being guarded by two super mutants. He whispered a curse before the crude makings of a plan formed in his mind. He reached into his pack and held his last grenade in his hand. He placed his finger into the round metal pin and steeled his mind to pull it. He twitched as he pulled the pin from its casing and he audibly gasped as he heard the gravelly voices of the first two mutants behind him.
"A human!" one shouted, "Attack!"
Andrew scrambled from his hiding place just as bullets ricocheted off of the wall where his body had been just a heartbeat ago. He rushed the door, ducking and sliding between the bewildered door guards. He opened the door swiftly and threw the grenade he was holding behind him as he shut the door. He leaned against the door until he heard the explosion and the death screams from the four mutants he had just killed.
He smiled and congratulated himself for a moment before cursing himself as he caught sight of two more mutants. One was patrolling the catwalk. He had been the one who noticed him. He grunted and raised a piece of two-by-four with crude rusted nails piercing the wood at the top.
Andrew raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. The blast of the bullets was deafening as something hot and sticky splashed against the side of his face and the mutant fell dead. Opening his eyes Andrew realized that several of his bullets had entered the mutant's head. Luck was on his side once more as yet another mutant shouted at him from above.
The final mutant stalked Project Purity's interior. Andrew realized the mutant had to waste a few precious seconds running toward the door and down the stairs and so he ducked beneath the structure itself and waited as he heard the thundering footsteps above him. Andrew hid as the eight-foot-tall monstrosity walked the grated floor before him, searching for the kid from vault 101.
Just as the mutant walked past Andrew let loose with his rifle, the hot lead bullets piercing the mutant's kneecaps. As the mutant fell to the floor growling in pain Andrew raised his rifle and struck hard with the stock into the mutant's head once, twice… thrice until the mutant no longer breathed.
Andrew sat back against one of the cold beams beneath Project Purity and gasped for air. He wiped the sticky red blood from the stock of his rifle with the sleeve of his leather armor. He swiped at the rapidly cooling blood that coated his face, but the gesture only made the mess on his face worse, smearing the blood around rather than ridding himself of it. After a moment's rest, Andrew rose once more and took in the structure that hoped to bring clear, clean water to the rest of the wasteland.
The structure was painted the same construction yellow as the scaffold outside. The walkway he stood upon was round and surrounded the structure leading to two flights of stairs. Andrew climbed the stairs and stood at the open door made nearly entirely of bulletproof glass. Row after row of computer terminals and blinking and beeping mainframes surrounded the circular structure including one large waist-high mainframe that held a number keypad among all of the blinking lights. Andrew approached and pressed the numbered keys curiously. He gave up after realizing that the console had no power coursing through it, therefore the curious numbers would remain a mystery to him.
The glass that surrounded the marble statue of Thomas Jefferson in the middle was filled with bubbling murky water and the fate of that water seemed to be tied to the central computer in a way that Andrew did not understand.
He scoured the structure's interior ring for some evidence of where his father had gone, but could find nothing. Exiting the massive purifier his eyes fell upon a stack of holotapes. He thumbed through them but none of the words printed on the holotape labels were of any use to him, save one.
The letters written on the back of the holotape piqued Andrew's curiosity.
"Holotape ten… Braun/vault 112."
Andrew popped the tape into his pip boy and slapped the hinged holotape player door shut in his haste.
The two-hundred-year-old holotape protested another performance with static and a warbling noise as the tape's innards were forced into service once more after Andrew pressed play. After the white noise and distortion calmed into the voice he recognized so well, he listened to his father wondering about something called a Garden of Eden Creation Kit. He listened to the rumored miracles of agriculture and land-shaping the G.E.C.K. could possibly undertake and his breathe caught as he heard his father's remarks confirming that he was indeed scouring the wasteland for vault 112.
The holotape stopped playing with a faint click and Andrew sighed, weeping somewhat at the sound of his father's voice. Andrew sat upon the top stair and held his head in his hands as his tears fell hot on his cheeks and somewhere in the midst of letting his emotion out a plan formed in his head.
He knew what he had to do. The journey was long and the danger was very real. Andrew knew in his head that he could die at any minute and the logic he had inherited from James Ross wondered silently if he should forget about the long trip and abandon his search. But Andrew's heart told him something very different.
Andrew Ross was going to face that danger.
Andrew Ross was going to weather the wasteland longer than he ever had before.
Andrew Ross was going to find vault 112.