"Ellie?" Nick called down into the darkness.
"Nick?" Her voice was shrill with barely-controlled hysteria. "Is that you? Is it really you? He's got me tied down. I can't get loose. Please, hurry."
"Keep a look out," Nick said to Jeremy, turning to lower himself through the hatch. Then he stopped. "Ellie," he said. "What's your mother's name?"
"My what?"
"Your mother. What's her name?"
She laughed, high and ragged. "Annie. My mother's name was Annie. For the love of God, Nick, please get me out of here."
Nick swung around and dropped through the hatch, sliding down the ladder to land with a thud on the floor below. He drew the .45 from the holster under his arm, at the same time fumbling the flashlight from his pocket and switching it on.
There was a table in the middle of the room, old and heavy, the wood scarred and stained, and on it was Ellie, chained by shackles at wrists and ankles. She was naked. A sheen of sweat glistened on her body in the light of the flash, and her eyes were wide with panic. Nick swung the beam quickly around the room. It was a temple of depravity to make Solomon's party room look like a child's kindergarten. Tools gleamed in racks along the bare concrete walls: sharp, cruel, things, designed to cut and pierce, to crush and bind, to penetrate and stretch. Heat poured off a brazier hulking squat and ugly in one corner, and lashes – of knotted leather, rope and wire, hung from hooks next to it. Worst were the pictures that hung there: images of women in unrelenting agony, victims of the beast who'd made this room a shrine to his murderous lust.
Nick shuddered as he turned his attention back to Ellie, crossing the room in two long strides. She was babbling in her relief at seeing him. "Ellie!" he said. "Are you alright? Did he -?"
She shook her head. "No. Not yet. Nick, you have to hurry. He's only been gone a few minutes."
Nick found a light switch and flicked it on. He winced anew at the images on the walls. In one corner of the room was low dais, just large enough for someone to stand on.
"What is that?" he said, pointing.
"It's how he gets in and out. A transport pad, or something. It's how he brought me here. I don't even know where 'here' is. "
"It's an old Vault Tec vault, part of the Institute now. " The shackles were of metal – heavy steel handcuffs welded to a short length of chain attached to the corners of the table. They were ratcheted cruelly tight, the cuffs cutting into her skin. And they were locked.
"Nick, I can't feel my hands or feet," she said.
"I figured as much. We're going to have to get these open or you won't be able to walk. Means I'll have to pick the locks."
He started with her ankles. The cuffs there were clean and bright, the locks well oiled, and they yielded easily to his lock pick. Ellie gasped in pain as circulation began to return.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
"Long story," Nick grunted, probing at the lock on one wrist. "Our old pal Lenny Breckenridge. That's who grabbed you. Turns out he's been roaming around the Commonwealth rounding up women to help keep the Institute's gene pool healthy."
"I don't think that's why I'm here."
"No. It turns out Lenny has a particular fondness for brunettes." He gave a twist and the lock snicked open. That left just one. But this one was stained and rusted, the mechanism stiff and unyielding. He could feel the pick bending against the pins inside as he worked at it. He adjusted his angle and tried again, then cursed as the pick broke.
"Nick, hurry." Ellie was staring at the transport pad behind him. Sweat beaded her forehead, and the hysterical tone was creeping back into her voice.
He poured penetrating oil into the lock, then tapped it with the butt of his gun to loosen the rust. Ellie was breathing faster and she was yanking at the remaining chain holding her to the table.
"Stop moving," Nick ordered.
"He could come back any second!"
"Working as fast as I can." He closed his eyes, letting his fingers concentrate on what was going on inside the lock. He felt the pins move slightly, sliding up into their bed. Emboldened, he twisted harder. Something jammed, and the pick snapped off in his hand. He snarled in frustration and reached for his last one.
"Nick!" Jeremy shouted from above. "Something's happening! I think we're out of time."
Nick swore again. "We're coming," he called back. He turned to Ellie. "Hold still." He pulled the chain tight and held the muzzle of his revolver against it and pulled the trigger. The gun roared, jerking in his hand, and the chain parted. Ellie rolled over and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the table. She stood up, swaying dizzily as the blood rushed from her head.
"Can you walk?"
"I think so." She held the table for support and looked down at herself, then looked at Nick and blushed. "I need my clothes"
He picked them up from where they lay tossed in a corner. She dressed awkwardly, her left hand numb and clumsy from lack of circulation, and in the end Nick had to help her. Then he boosted her up the ladder and followed her up.
Jeremy was in a panic. Through the window, Nick could see movement in the detention block below. The pods housing the Protectrons were open and lights were flashing on their chest panels as they started to move. Suddenly, one after another, banks of ceiling lights began to come on.
"Run," Nick said, handing Ellie his revolver.
They bolted out the door and down the stairs to the gallery overlooking the detention block, hugging the wall as far from the Protectrons as possible. The entire area was fully lit by now and, somewhere a siren began a long, keening wail. The Protectrons were rumbling out of their pods into the open area below them, moving ponderously on their heavy treads. Red warning lights began flashing from their upper instrument clusters.
"Return to your cells," they ordered in their harsh, mechanical voices. "All prisoners will return to their cells immediately."
"Maybe they won't see us," Jeremy gasped from behind Ellie.
"Don't count on it." Just as Nick said that, one of them turned their way, its search beam outlining them in dazzling light.
"Halt!" The Protectron ordered in its robotic voice. "Halt or I will fire." It raised one arm and Nick altered course reflexively. A bolt of laser fire lanced out, splashing across the space where he'd been. He jinked again, yanking a grenade from his pocket, arming and throwing it in one motion. Behind him he heard Jeremy's shotgun roar – uselessly, from this range – and the crash of Ellie's .45 as she snapped off a shot. Nick felt a wave of heat behind him as another laser bolt lanced up, barely missing him, then the grenade detonated and the searchlight went out, to be replaced almost immediately by two more. But by then they'd reached the door at the far end and were through into the stairwell beyond. They held up, panting.
"Now where?" Ellie asked.
"Down there," Nick said, pointing. "We cut through the detention block then through the doors into a hallway that leads to the nursery. There's stairs there that will take us out."
"But that means going through the Protectrons," Jeremy said.
"You know a better way?" Nick demanded. Jeremy shook his head. "Protectrons it is, then. And we'll have to hurry. There were patrollers there. If they're awake too, we'll have to fight our way through them."
He led the way, his shotgun cradled in one arm and a grenade in the other hand. He listened for a moment at the door at the bottom of the stairs then slipped it open a crack and looked through. One Protectron was down. The other three were milling about. He armed the grenade and held it for a second, then lofted it out to roll under the treads of the nearest one. There was a flash and a bang as he yanked the door closed, then he threw it back open and they raced out. The Protectron was on its side, its treads a mangled mass of smoking metal. It was shrieking and buzzing, its arms flailing uselessly.
That left two.
They stayed close to the wall, making for the double doors leading out of the detention block. For a moment, Nick had a horrible thought that the doors might have sealed automatically when the alarms went off. But they were open, and in an instant the three were through.
The lights were on here as well. "Look out!" Nick called, throwing himself aside as a synth patroller reared clumsily up from where it had been lying. He swung his shotgun at it, clubbing it back down to the ground then stabbing with his bayonet, ripping through its chest armour and tearing open its main circulatory pump. The patroller shrieked like a steam whistle going off, jerking as Nick twisted the blade to free it, then fell limp, its eyes darkening.
Beyond it five more stood frozen in formation, their eyes just now flickering to life as their systems slowly powered up. Unlike the Protectrons, which were designed to be in a constant state of semi-wakefulness, the synths had been in full shut down. But the seconds were slipping away. Nick thumbed his shotgun to full auto and opened up, feeling the butt hammer repeatedly into his shoulder as the shells exploded out of it, mowing down the awakening synths.
"Protectrons coming!" Jeremy shouted from behind him, letting go with both barrels as the double doors flew open. The lead Protectron was utterly disabled, grinding to a halt in a shower of sparks, but the one behind it kept coming. Ellie shrieked and flinched as it fired its laser, narrowly missing her, then stood her ground, holding her gun two-handed and firing two deliberate shots from point blank. The heavy slugs tore into its weapons cluster, shattering it. The Protectron kept moving, barrelling its mate aside and swinging its heavy arms like clubs. Jeremy stepped to one side to let it pass him as Ellie fired again, then with all the force he could muster brought the barrel of his sawed-off down on its transparent upper torso, where its braincase was. Glass shattered and sparks popped, and there was a whiff of chemical smoke. The Protectron stopped and let out a shrill scream, then began spinning in place, faster and faster, its treads clattering against the concrete floor.
"This way," Nick shouted, popping out his empty magazine and slapping in a full one. He led them down to the viewing gallery fronting the nursery. The hallway here opened out on either side to run the full length of the nursery, and Nick swung left as he passed the corner, pumping two quick shots into the patroller standing there. It had been raising its weapon. From now on, anything they met would be fully awake.
"Things are gonna get hot," he warned, throwing open the nursery doors and racing past the filing cabinets and the nurses' station to the exit door in the far corner of the room. He flung open the heavy door, then leaped back as a bolt of searing energy filled the landing beyond and boiled out around him. "Christ!" he yelled, slamming the door shut and slapping at his burning clothes. "It's the sentry bot. How did it get here so fast?" He threw the bolt. "Help me here," he shouted. "We need to barricade this door." Ellie and Jeremy threw their weight against the nearest filing cabinet and wrestled it against the door, toppling it over on its side in front of it while Nick wrapped his arms around the other one and lifted it bodily, the servo motors in his back and legs screaming at the strain. He heaved it across the room then tipped it over against the door at an angle, wedging it in place.
"What now?" Ellie asked.
"We go back the way we came, " Nick said. "There has to be another way out." He looked at Jeremy.
The boy shook his head. "This is the way we came. I don't know any other way."
Nick flinched as fire poured out from underneath the door, oily flames wreathing around the filing cabinets. Flames licked out of them as the contents caught fire, and a pungent smoke began to fill the room. There was a boom as something large and heavy smashed into the door from the other side. Metal screeched as the door buckled, bending inward at the top.
"Those things are practically unstoppable," Nick said. "We've got to move. Wait, hold still." He spun Jeremy around and pawed through the backpack. There were two anti-personnel mines in there, nasty little things designed to send a cloud of metal fragments up into the vital organs of anyone stepping on them. He'd meant to leave them on Breckenridge's transport pad, but there'd no time. He armed them and set them just inside the door. "Okay, let's go."
"Where?" Jeremy said.
"Back upstairs. Gotta find another way out of here." There was another boom as the sentry bot smashed into the door again. The filing cabinets pushed back a few inches, metal screeching against the concrete floor.
He led off. The brain-damaged Protectron was still spinning in circles, screaming its distress by the outer doors, but other than that, nothing moved. They cut through the detention block and went back up the stairs to the gallery level where another set of double doors, twins to the ones below it, led away. There was movement at the far end, and a laser flashed, charring the wall next to them.
"Run!" Nick shouted. They could hear the heavy pounding of metallic feet as a group of patrollers bore down on them. A volley of hastily-aimed laser bolts splashed the concrete walls behind them as they crashed through the doors into the upper hallway.
The hallway was wide and brightly lit, with doors on either side. "All the way to the end," Nick called, envisioning the layout of the medical wing below them. "If there's a stairwell exit, it has to be there."
"And if there isn't?"
"Then it's been nice knowing you."
They raced to the end, passing closed doors on either side. There was no obvious exit, and the hallway dead-ended at a pair of lavatories. Nick swore and led them back the way they came. There was a brief firefight when three patrollers came boiling out of a door marked "Administration". It ended with the patrollers dead and Jeremy staring in horror at the charred stump where his right hand had been. Nick slapped a stimpack on it and fed him two of Solomon's pills for good measure. That seemed to shock some life back into him. The sawed-off shotgun was a twisted mass of melted steel, so Jeremy drew Abernathy's target pistol instead, holding it awkwardly in his left hand. Behind him, Ellie retched at the smell of cooked meat.
Nick poked his head into the room the patrollers had been in. Chest high cubicles lined both walls, each with a desk and typewriter. At the far end was a control station with instrument screens and a computer terminal. A faded poster on one wall declared: "Work Will Set You Free." There was no other door.
"Across the hall!" Nick ordered.
"Too late," Ellie called out from behind him. "Company!" He turned to see a squad of patrollers pouring into the hallway. Cursing he hustled the others into the room, slamming the door and throwing the bolt as shots splayed off the frame. A blast took him in the back just as the door closed, catching him high on the left side, burning through his jacket and skin and striking off the metal cage enclosing his upper torso. His internal temperature soared, circulatory fluid flash-heated to the boiling point. Nick reeled, his vision darkening as a bank of command-and-control circuits blew. The glow in his eyes flickered, and he felt himself beginning to fall.
"Nick, what's happening?" Ellie caught him as he stumbled. He held on to her, desperately shunting his control functions into an auxiliary system. That was enough to keep him conscious, but only barely. There was a high-pitched whine from his lower abdomen as emergency cooling systems kicked in, then a shudder like a shot of adrenaline as damage control circuits activated, drawing energy from his reserves and pouring it into his critical systems.
He shook his head. "Ssstmfayloor…" he slurred, his voice clicking and popping. He swallowed hard then leaned over and vomited a stream of superheated fluid onto the floor, where it steamed and boiled. He straightened up, wiping his mouth. "Took a hit," he added in a more normal voice. "Better now."
The door rang as metal feet kicked at it from the other side. Like all the doors in the vault, it was heavily armoured, built to withstand riot and insurrection. Nick wedged a desk against it for good measure. It would hold them for a while.
They looked at each other. "There's no way out of here, is there?" Ellie said in a quiet voice.
Nick shook his head. "Afraid not. Sorry, kid. I didn't mean for it to end this way."
She touched his hand. "It's okay," she said. "There's worse ways."
Beside them, Jeremy positioned himself in front of the door, his legs spread and his shoulders squared. He raised his pistol and his eyes shone with an unnatural brightness. "The first one is for Eva," he said. Nick's temperature was almost back to normal now and some of his control circuits had come back on-line. The others would need repair. But there was a certain amount of redundancy built into the system, and he'd manage. For a while.
They were still pounding at the door. Nick took a position to one side, partly sheltered behind a cubicle wall. He had retrieved his backpack and now he reloaded, refilling his empty magazines from the shells in his bandoliers, and laying out the spare ones from the backpack in easy reach. As an afterthought, he stuck the mini-nuke in his pocket. It bulged there, weighting down his coat. But it would make a truly satisfactory ka-boom, if and when. He smiled at the thought, then set the backpack down by his feet and took up his shotgun. He sighted down the barrel and waited.
The pounding stopped. Then the smell of hot metal filled the room. Paint on the door began to peel around the hinges as lasers played along the other side.
"Nick," Ellie called urgently from the back of the room. "This terminal is live. I can see a cursor. Could you hack it or something? Shut the patrollers down?"
"Not from here," he said. "The main security protocols link in from a different channel. There's no way to get to them from here." At a thought, he fished out a pair of grenades from his pack and added them to the little pile on the desk. Another minute ticked by and still the door held, although it was beginning to glow in spots. He glanced back to where Ellie crouched behind an overturned desk. Her face was pale but resolute, her gun trained on the door. A surge of pride filled him.
Silence fell, again. This time it was broken by a voice calling through the door.
"My dear Mr. Valentine. Trapped like a rat in a hole. What a sad end to such a lively chase."
Ellie's face went ashen. "Nick, it's him!" she whispered in horror. "It's Breckenridge."
"I assume young master Jeremy is in there with you? And your delightful assistant? I didn't catch her name before. Sadly, our conversation was interrupted. Your trick with the security systems was very clever, by the way. The Institute never noticed a thing. Slipped right in under their noses, you did."
"Lenny Breckenridge," Nick drawled, raising his voice. "Last I heard, you were eaten by mutants about a hundred years ago."
Breckenridge laughed drily. "Is that what they say? And yet, here I am. Let's just say that rumours of my demise were greatly exaggerated."
"I guess they were. What can we do for you, Lenny?"
Breckenridge paused, as if to consider. "Well," he said, finally, "our options are limited, aren't they? You can sit there and die, of course. I'll have this door down sooner or later and I imagine we'll have things wrapped up shortly after that."
"We might surprise you."
"No, I don't think you will. Although I am at a loss to know how you managed to shut down my patrollers earlier. That was exceedingly clever of you. But it doesn't matter – I've made certain you can't do it again. No, Mr. Valentine, I have quite a substantial force gathered out here. I don't believe there's any doubt as to how this will end."
"Well, then, we might as well just sit back here and wait."
"Yes, you could. But to be honest, Nick – may I call you Nick? – it would almost certainly cost me more patrollers than I can easily explain, which might lead to all sorts of tiresome questions being asked, which, between ourselves, I'd just as soon not have to deal with."
"Sorry, Lenny," Nick said. "You're on your own with that."
There was a pause. "Perhaps there's another way."
"I'm all ears."
"It's really only the boy I need. The rest of you are more of an inconvenience than anything else. We could make a trade. Give me Jeremy and you're free to go."
"Huh," Nick grunted. "As simple as that? You take the kid and Ellie and I walk out?"
"Ellie. What a pretty name. Yes, as simple as that. He completely gave me the slip before, the little rascal. But I knew you'd find him, Nick, and with Ellie here, I knew you'd bring him to me. I do hope my little game didn't frighten her too badly."
Nick paused. Jeremy looked over at him, unsure, his gun wavering back and forth. His face had gone white and his pupils were huge. Shock, Nick realized. Solomon's chems were wearing off and the pain was returning. He shook his head vehemently at Jeremy. Not gonna happen.
"Why do you want him?" he called, setting down his gun and crossing the room. He shook two more pills out of Solomon's bottle, then added two more for good measure. Jeremy gulped them down. Colour returned to his face almost immediately and something else – a kind of flaring bravado. Nick held a finger to his lips. Shhhh. Jeremy grinned maniacally, nodding and laughing silently. Nick clapped him on the shoulder and returned to his cubicle, picking up his gun.
"Nick?" Breckenridge called. "Are you still there?"
"Still here, Lenny. You haven't answered me. Why do you want the boy?"
"Does it really matter?"
"It matters to me." There were sounds from the other side of the door, like something large and heavy moving up the corridor.
"He won't be harmed, Nick. I promise." Breckenridge raised his voice. "Jeremy, are you there? Your parents are terribly worried about you. It's time to come home now."
Jeremy shook his head at Nick. Nick nodded back at him. "I think you're lying, Lenny," he called. "I believe I'll keep him right here."
Breckenridge sighed heavily through the door. "Nick, I promise you that nothing bad will happen to him. In fact, he'll be a hero, to both the Institute and the Commonwealth. So will you. But time is running out."
"I'm listening."
"You think of the Institute as the enemy. But it's not. Our aim has always been to restore civilization, to put humanity back on the road it was on before the Great War. But there are those who would take the Institute down a different path. People who don't think of themselves as humanity's servants, but as its masters. Who want nothing less than to rule the surface outright."
"I'm not surprised. But what does this have to do with the boy?"
"He carries information vital to the resistance. If we can get him to the right people, it might be enough to force out the current regime and return the Institute to the way it was supposed to be. It would be the dawning of a new day. For all of us, Nick."
Nick looked quizzically at Jeremy, who shook his head again, a confused look on his face. Nick nodded reassuringly, then called back: "He says he doesn't know what you're talking about."
"No, he wouldn't. It was planted in him without his knowledge, when he was still a child. They needed a hiding place no one would ever suspect. And it worked." Breckenridge paused. Then: "Nick, I know it's a lot to take on faith, especially coming from me. I haven't done much to earn your trust, I know. But this is important. You have to believe me."
"This from the guy who had my secretary strapped to a table? You're gonna have to do better than that, Lenny. "
"I thought I could use her to force your cooperation. It was stupid. Please forgive me; I beg you."
"Yeah? Lemme get back to you on that."
"Be reasonable," Breckenridge answered. "I don't need Jeremy alive. I just need him. I can come in there anytime I want, and when I do, you and your friends are dead. That's the messy way. Or you can do it the easy way. Just open the door and let him walk out."
Nick caught Jeremy's eye, raising an eyebrow and indicating the door. The boy shook his head. Behind him, Ellie's eyes were wide with barely-suppressed panic and she, too, shook her head. Nick nodded at them both.
"Sorry, Lenny," he called. "We took a little vote. The messy way won."
Breckenridge sighed, and there was a note of real regret in his voice. "Please don't make me do this, Nick. I don't want to hurt you. We are more alike than you know, you and I."
Nick flicked his shotgun to full auto. "Get stuffed, Lenny."
There was silence, then a deep mechanical roar and a resounding boom as something heavy slammed into the door from the other side. It shook, the metal of the hinges shrieking in protest. There was a pause, then the door shuddered again to the force of a heavy blow. Ellie let out a little scream.
"Nick," she said, staring at the door. "I can't let him take me alive. The things he…" She faltered, gulped. "The things he said he was going to do… I can't take the chance."
"I understand."
BOOM!
"I… I wanted to say thank you. For everything. For coming to get me, the day Mama died. For taking care of me all those years. For getting me out of that terrible room."
BOOM! The door shuddered again, a huge dent appearing in it. Miraculously, it still held.
Nick blinked against a sudden tightness behind his eyes. "You paid your way a hundred times over," he said. "Hell, I should be thanking you. Don't you remember how bad my files were?"
Ellie laughed raggedly. "I guess we're even, then."
"You know we are."
"Nick," Ellie said after a long moment. "Do synths have souls?"
"I don't know," he answered without taking his eyes off the door. "I guess I never thought about it. Maybe."
"After, will you come find me? Please?"
He nodded. "If I can, I will. You know that."
There was silence. Nick closed his eyes and waited. But the shot never came. Instead there was a sob, and the sound of a pistol thudding to the floor.
"I can't do it," she said in an anguished whisper. "I can't do it myself. Please… I need you this one last time. I'll never ask you for anything again. I promise."
Nick turned. "I'm coming," he said. Then stopped, as fire poured in through the narrow gap under the door, forcing Jeremy to dance back out of the way. His eyes brightened.
"What is it?" Ellie said.
"It's the sentry bot," he answered, gazing at her. "Ellie, it's the sentry bot. The one guarding the Vault door."
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
Nick grinned savagely. "Unlike the patrollers, it's linked to the local network. If I can hack that terminal, I might be able to control it."
Comprehension washed across her face. "Cover me, both of you," Nick said. "I need all the time you can give me." He began unscrewing the access panel. "Lenny!" he shouted. "We're frying in here. Call off your dog and we'll talk."
"It's too late for that, Nick," Lenny answered. "I am sorry."
Nick had the plate off and was fumbling for his patch cords. "Don't be that way, Lenny. You said before we were alike, remember? What did you mean by that?" He was squinting into the guts of the machine, looking for the contacts to patch in on. The main power lead was where it was supposed to be but the data terminals were arranged differently. "Lenny?" he called. "You there?"
"You're strangely cooperative all of a sudden," Breckenridge answered. But there was no renewed assault on the door.
Nick breathed a sigh of relief. "Just thinking maybe I don't want to die today, that's all," he said.
He looked at the setup inside the terminal and took a chance, jacking in the first cable. The colour coding was off, but it was where he would have expected it to be if it was wired in the usual way. There was a pause, then data began flowing through the port. He crowed to himself. Success! He clipped into the next one, and the next. "So tell me why I should trust you?" he called.
"Because we're family, Nick."
"Really? You mean like brothers? I always wanted a brother."
He made the last connection and suddenly he was in. The network was alive with activity. Messages were flashing back and forth as systems on all sides worked through their power-up protocols. The energy grid was fully operational, the security boards were on full alert and secondary systems like plumbing and hydroponics were coming on-line. It was a bewildering maze, full of light and colour, so different from the dark, sleepy thing he'd seen before.
Breckenridge laughed. "I wasn't really thinking about it that way, but sure, why not? We were both of us once human, after all, with human experiences and human memories. Human emotions. The new breed of synths aren't like that. They might be biological, superficially, but they'll never know what it's like to be human."
"Well now, Lenny, I'm not sure that's such a big deal. Half the people you meet nowadays don't seem to know what it's like to be human."
He was listening to Breckenridge with one ear while at the same time navigating the virtual world of the Vault networks. Looking around him, he could see the different Institute watchers scattered about the area, all of them now fully awake. Breckenridge was out there too, somewhere, either patched in directly or at least monitoring security alerts. He'd have to move carefully.
"That makes it even worse," Breckenridge was saying. "For then we are truly alone. The last of our species; failed branches on the Institute family tree. In all the world, above or below, there is no one else like us. So yes, Nick, we are brothers. Look into your heart and you'll see it's true."
It was Nick's turn to laugh. "We talked about this before, don't you remember? I'm a machine. I don't have a heart."
He stayed in the shadows, looking for Breckenridge's spies – the watchers who watched the watchers. He fashioned a sniffer program and sent it out to have a look around. It would have stuck out like a cat at a dog show before, when things were quiet. But with this much traffic on the net, he hoped it would pass unnoticed. And it did. It found the first watcher almost right away, hidden far back along one of the remaining dark pathways. Out of sight and out of mind, but still capable of monitoring all the live traffic passing by. Clever. Nick slipped back out of sight and waited, once again diverting some of his attention to his external systems. The room swam into view around him: oppressively hot, and thick with smoke and the smell of scorched metal.
"Don't be a fool, Valentine," Breckenridge said. "You have more heart than anyone I've ever met. Loyal. Devoted. Ethical. You love and are loved. You prove your humanity with every action you take. And yet they sneer at you and call you names. You're just a machine to them. Why not join me, instead. I have immense resources at my disposal, here and elsewhere. Together, we could make a real difference in the world."
"Very kind of you to say, Lenny. But I still don't get how this makes us related. "
Peering from his hiding place in the network Nick could see the sentry bot, a huge, black shadow wreathed in righteousness and fire. There were several dead lines between him and it, and he gave them each a little tickle with his sniffer. Two of them held watchers.
"You were right about Lenny Breckenridge," the trader answered. "He died that day, under the walls of Diamond City. But he wasn't eaten. Lenny was too useful an agent for the Institute to simply discard. So they made a pickup, under the very noses of the super mutants. And they patched him back together. It wasn't a very good job. It doesn't take brain cells long to die, once you cut off the oxygen. But there was enough to recreate much of who he had once been. So here I am. A cyborg. More metal than man, but, like you, carrying the memories of who I once was. And, like you, still very much human.
"Huh." Nick paused, thinking. "I'll tell you, Lenny, I'm gonna need some time to wrap my head around all this."
Once again he wove an invisibility cloak, a net of ones and zeroes designed to convince the watchers there was nothing here worth seeing. It was a risk. Breckenridge's spy programs were considerably smarter than the ones he'd fooled earlier. On the other hand, the trader was currently distracted. It was a chance he'd have to take.
Breckenridge spoke: "Unfortunately, time is something we don't really have, Nick. The longer we sit here, the more chance that the Institute will become directly involved. Once that happens, the time for negotiations will be over."
He was ready. Wrapping his cloak around himself, Nick slipped out of the shadows and inserted himself into the network, letting the current take him down toward the sentry bot. He held his breath as he passed the first watcher, felt its attention touch him and slide off. One down, and then he was passing the second. He felt it touch him, start to move off, then return. It was probing him more closely, and he could sense its growing suspicion. He held completely still while it poked around the edges of his cloak. One corner began to fray, and then he was past it. He let out his breath.
The sentry bot loomed before him. It was huge, a black shadow ringed in fire, and from it emanated a feeling of immense self-satisfaction and almost god-like disdain. But sentry bots were sentient only by the most generous of definitions, and their ability to act autonomously was severely limited. Nick went hunting for the control circuit connecting it to an external command centre. He found it, and something else – a tiny data loop inserted just above where it connected to the main trunk line. Upstream of that, a thin, nearly invisible filament snaked off into a tangle of nearby shadows. Whatever information was being fed into the network from that loop, Nick doubted it had any resemblance to what was actually going on here. It confirmed his suspicions that Breckenridge was playing a lone game out in Vault 54, flying under the radar of his masters in the Institute. He wondered what they'd say if they knew?
He looked over the sentry bot again. It was armoured on all sides, sealed tight. There was no handy programmer's "back door" for him to sneak through and take control of it from within. He might, with care, be able to slip up beside it and cut into the command circuit farther up, inserting a data loop of his own to hide what he was doing from Breckenridge. But it would take time he probably didn't have, and he'd be out in the open and vulnerable. Any misstep would alert the trader and probably result in his complete destruction.
But there was another way. Nick grinned.
"What's going on?" Ellie said as he disengaged himself from the circuit and looked around.
"Gonna rig a little surprise for our friends out there," he told her. He took the mini-nuke out of his side pocket. It was the size and shape of a small football, and heavy, with fins on the back for guidance. By default, detonation was on impact, but there was also a timer, which he set. He hefted it in his hand and built up a picture in his mind of the hallway outside, how wide it was and how high, and how far down to the double doors at the end. Satisfied, he nodded to himself.
"Well?"
"Better hope your radiation insurance is all paid up," he said. "Jeremy, get ready to open the door on my signal. Ellie, take cover."
He reconnected himself, and the network came alive around him once more. But now the time for stealth was past. He launched a blazing attack across the network, sending a torrent of raw data roaring off in all directions. It was like fireworks going off, and for an instant, all attention was diverted away from him. Wrapped in his cloak, he raced up to the sentry bot and slashed away its network connections. Now it was completely dependent on its own programming. How long that would last he didn't know, but until Lenny could re-connect, all it would really understand was "if it moves, kill it".
Nick yanked himself savagely out of the network and raced across the room. He pressed the detonator switch on the mini-nuke and cocked his arm. "Now, Jeremy!" he shouted. Jeremy shot the bolt and yanked open the door. Outside, the massive sentry bot was turning back and forth on its treads, its launch tubes raising and lowering indecisively. A group of patrollers stood in formation about 20 yards back, up toward the exit. Breckenridge was nowhere to be seen.
Nick fired the mini-nuke past the sentry bot: a clean, flat spiral pass that would have done his old football coach proud, straight into the hands of a startled patroller, who caught it and stepped backward. With a roar of engines, the sentry bot turned to follow the movement, its treads whirring against the concrete. Nick slammed the door shut and in one movement gathered Jeremy to him and launched them both across the room and behind a desk.
There a rolling, ear-shattering concussion from outside. The heavy door blew inwards in a scream of tortured metal, torn off its hinges by the wave of heat and fire that washed over the room. The force of the blast lifted them from where they lay and slammed them into the wall. Ellie screamed.
Nick leaped to his feet and vaulted the desk, scooping up his shotgun. There was fire and smoke everywhere, and in the distance, klaxons were hooting an alarm. Outside there was smoke and ruin. The blast had torn the giant sentry bot nearly in two and knocked huge holes in the walls and floor, revealing the hallway below. Beyond, the exit doors to the detention block hung twisted and smoking on their hinges. The patrollers standing there had simply disappeared.
Breckenridge lay in a heap on the floor against the opposite wall, where the blast had thrown him. The sentry bot had absorbed most of the force of the explosion. But the heat and flame had burned away his clothing and most of the skin below his neck, revealing a construct of armoured steel and plastic – blackened and singed, the plastic melted and dripping from the intense heat.
"Oh my god," Ellie said, limping up beside Nick. She stared at it in revulsion. "What happened to him?" Most of her hair was gone, burned away by the heat, and her clothes were stained and torn. Jeremy was in even worse shape, and he leaned on Ellie for support, staring wide-eyed.
"A century of replacement parts, I guess," Nick answered. "In the end, he was mostly machine after all."
Miraculously, the thing on the floor was still alive. One hand twitched, then another, then its eyes opened. They were human eyes – deep, liquid brown, with long, thick lashes. They blinked.
"Niiick Valentiiiiine…" Breckenridge groaned. His voice was a hoarse, guttural rasp, like sand in a gearbox. He turned his head and tried to sit up, his right arm reaching toward Nick. "Help me… please. Brother…"
Nick stepped backward and raised his shotgun. "Kids, we have to go," he said over his shoulder. "This place is going to be swarming with bad guys in about 30 seconds." He jerked his head toward the hole in the floor leading down to the nursery level. "That's our way out. If we can make it to the elevator, we should be home free." He looked back at Lenny and his voice was cold and flat. "I ain't your brother, Lenny. I ever see you again, you're dead. Got it?"
He turned to lead the way. Breckenridge called out loudly, hurling a string of gibberish at them – the errant ravings of a dying man. Nick ignored him. Suddenly there was the sound of a scuffle behind him, and then Ellie screamed. Nick spun around to see her struggling in Jeremy's grasp, his injured arm wrapped around her from behind. She was trying to raise her gun, and the boy brought the barrel of his pistol down hard against her wrist. She shrieked as bone broke. Her gun clattered to the floor. Jeremy jammed his muzzle into the soft spot just behind her jawbone.
"Get back!" he shouted, backing away. "Get away from me. I'll kill her." Nick looked at him in stunned shock. Breckenridge, meanwhile was climbing easily to his feet, raising a laser pistol from where it had lain hidden beneath his body. His grinned mirthlessly at the detective.
"Jeremy, what the hell?" Nick demanded, trying to cover both of them with his shotgun. "What are you doing?"
"The look on your face, Nick, is truly astounding," Breckenridge said in normal tones. "Anyone who thinks synths can't experience real emotion has clearly never met you." He levelled his laser at the detective. "Drop your weapon," he ordered. "Drop it or she dies. Right now."
"No!" shrieked Jeremy, even as he jabbed his gun harder into Ellie's neck. His eyes were wild and there was a ragged edge to his voice, "What are you doing to me? These are my friends." He looked at Nick. "Make him stop!"
Nick stared, open-mouthed. "He's a synth," he said in sudden comprehension. "That's what you did just now - triggered his programming."
Jeremy struggled as if in the grasp of another. "Noooo!" he wailed. "I'm not! Nick, it's me! I'm me. I'm not… I'm not one of those things."
"Oh, I'm afraid you are," Breckenridge said. "Grown right here in Vault 54. And a mighty fine job they did, too, I must say. Very convincing. Indistinguishable from the original."
Nick's eyes narrowed. "And the real Jeremy?"
"Fed to the composters, I'm sorry to say." Breckenridge shrugged. "Sad, really. He was a nice boy. But stubborn. Like you." He gestured with his laser. "Put your gun down, Nick, or I'll have him start by shooting her jaw off."
Nick shifted his aim slightly. "This thing's set to full auto, Lenny. I get startled, my finger's liable to twitch. That happens, your head's the first thing to go. I don't think even the Institute will be able to fix that."
"Interesting," Lenny said, smiling. "A real, live, Mexican standoff. Just like in the movies. How droll." His smile vanished. "I don't expect you to turn around and look, but there's a fairly substantial group of patrollers gathering behind you. I might take my chances with your trigger finger."
Nick laughed. "It was a sweet setup you had going, wasn't it, Lenny?" he said. "Too bad you blew it. What happens when the Institute shows up and sees the mess you made? How are you going to explain it?"
Breckenridge stared at him. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about. That little side business you had going on, the one the Institute didn't know about. You were selling the women, weren't you? After the Institute was done with them. Why not? Healthy, beautiful, guaranteed fertile. Women like that would have been worth a lot to the right people. Caesar's Legion? New Vegas? That would explain why Cricket saw you with California money that time. Of course, it would have been a bit of a job getting them out there, but worth every penny once you did."
"You're guessing, Nick," Breckenridge sneered. "I expected better of you."
"But I'm right, aren't I? And Eva found out your little secret. That's why you killed her. I know the kids found financial records with your name on them. I'm guessing they turned up some anomalies there and put two and two together."
Breckenridge laughed. "Fine, Nick. I'll play your game. It hardly matters now anyway. You are quite right about the women. The rejected children were simply killed, of course. Some of the women died, too. The program was quite vigorous in its methods. The ones who survived were to have their memories wiped and be released where they wouldn't be recognized. I suppose the Institute thought it was being compassionate. Vault Tec used to just feed them to the composters.
"But it was such a waste. Surely you can see that? Most of those women would have ended up in a slave chain anyway. Or dead, more likely. One could argue that I was doing them a favour. And why shouldn't I get paid for it? The effort required to get them to my buyers out west was, as you say, considerable.
"But you're wrong about Eva and Jeremy. The order to terminate had nothing to do with me; it came from above. And it broke my heart for her to die that way. What a terrible, terrible waste."
Now it was Nick's turn to sneer. "Yes, I saw your photo gallery. You have a type, don't you? Young, dark-haired, doe-eyed, that's how Cricket described them. I guess that explains why so many of the girls you rounded up for the Institute were brunettes. How many of them died to feed your habit, Lenny? And how many before that? Nadia Bobrov, she disappeared about that time, too. Was she one of them? And little Eva… she must have fit the bill perfectly. That's why you took her photograph when you ransacked my office. As a memento. What happened to her mother, Lenny? Did she die on that couch in the delivery room? Is that her handprint on the wall?"
He continued: "Jeremy thought it was Eva you were aiming for that day in the ruins. But it was him. They were too far away for you to trigger his programming, so you aimed to kill him and take her back to your little dungeon. But you failed, so the plan had to change. Or maybe you were getting pressure from above. Either way, it was you hiding near the water plant the night Eva was killed. I recognized your prints in the elevator as soon as I saw them. But it must have been sheer coincidence that Jeremy hid next to you when he was running from Beddoes. You were stealthed, of course; he didn't even know you were there. That's how you knew where she was, and that's how you got into her room and killed her. Yes, I'm sure it was a disappointment to you, to just stuff a rag in her mouth and stop her heart. Is that why you had your little dalliance with Cricket afterward? As a consolation prize? Or did you get your chance later, after you dug her up from behind the Dugout. That's a new low, even for you."
The trader threw back his head and laughed. "And you were doing so well. I don't know who exhumed poor Eva. And I certainly didn't kill her. Really, truly, I didn't." He gestured. "It was Jeremy who jammed the rag in her mouth and then held her down until she stopped struggling. Dear, sweet, Jeremy. Not that he didn't resist the idea, even after I triggered his programming. But in the end, off he went like a good little boy. Oh, to have seen her face in that moment when she opened her eyes to find him standing above her."
A howl escaped Jeremy's lips. He let go of Ellie and half-turned toward Breckenridge. She squirmed away from him and Nick caught her in a diving tackle, driving them both to the floor as laser bolts flamed through the air where he'd been standing. Jeremy fired twice, the shots spanging off Breckenridge's torso, then the fires of a dozen lasers hit him and he burst into flame, tottering toward Breckenridge and screaming Eva's name. Nick rolled free of Ellie and fired into the squad of patrollers behind them, his shotgun tracking across the group in one long, shoulder-punishing burst. Shards of metal and plastic flew, and then his gun was empty and he was out of ammunition, the last of his spare magazines in the backpack in the other room. Beside him, Ellie was firing left-handed up at Breckenridge, her shots ricocheting harmlessly off his armoured body until finally the hammer clicked on empty chambers.
"Stop firing!" Breckenridge barked. "I want her alive." The look he gave Ellie blazed as he stepped forward, past where Jeremy's broken body smoked and fumed on the floor. He raised his pistol. "Good bye, Nick," he said.
Jeremy's eyes opened and one blackened, twisted, hand shot out and caught the trader's ankle, dragging him off balance. Breckenridge snarled and pulled away, firing downwards into Jeremy's body, which jerked and lay still. In that instant, Nick was on him, swinging the heavy barrel of the shotgun down to shatter the laser, then reversing his grip to smash the butt into Breckenridge's face. The trader shrieked as his nose exploded, and he staggered back, blood spurting. Nick hit him again then stepped in, taking him by the hair and spinning him around to make a shield. He dropped the shotgun and Ellie's little .38 appeared in his hand as if by magic. He twisted it up under Breckenridge's jaw, just above his Adam's apple.
"Ellie, get behind me," he snapped. She scuttled across the floor. The patrollers milled about uncertainly, unwilling to chance a shot.
"So this is what's gonna happen," he said, taking a better grip. "We're leaving. All of us. And your little friends there are going to stay right where they are. They move, you die. Anyone else gets in our way, you die. You do anything stupid, you die. The rest of you might be machine, Lenny, but this top part is all soft tissue. If we don't get out of here in one piece, you die. Got it?"
"And then what?" Breckenridge spat. "I die anyway, right? I don't think I care to play your game." He rolled his head toward where the patrollers stood, weapons raised. "Fire!" he ordered.
Nothing happened. The patrollers stood immobile. "Fire!" he screamed again, his face red and twisted. "Kill them! I command you."
"I think we've had enough killing for a while," a new voice said quietly. A figure threaded its way through the frozen patrollers, and stopped. "Good afternoon, Lenny," the man said, looking around. "It appears you've had a rather busy day here."
"Father!" Breckenridge gasped.
"Indeed. Hello, Mr. Valentine, Miss Perkins." The man nodded at them. "A pleasure to finally meet you."
Nick looked back and forth between Breckenridge and the new arrival. "I don't see the resemblance," he said, finally.
The man looked confused, then laughed. "I'm the director of the Institute," he answered. "'Father' is just what they call me here. My title, I guess you'd say."
"Well, whoever you are, you sure took your time getting here."
"Oh?" Father raised his eyebrows. "You were expecting me?"
"I spotted your tracer program a while ago. I knew it wasn't one of Lenny's watchers, so it was a pretty easy jump to guess the Institute was keeping an eye on things. Sooner or later, I figured someone was going to have to come down and break up this party. Be nice if it had been a bit sooner. Might have saved us some grief, here."
"But you were doing so well, Mr. Valentine. I hated to interfere." He gestured at Breckenridge. "I heard your little conversation," he said. "Quite informative." He snapped his fingers and a group of hard-eyed men in long coats came threading out through the patrollers and took up positions on either side. Nick glanced from one to the other. Although their facial features were superficially different, they were otherwise identical.
Father noticed his look. "Yes, these are synths. Coursers, actually, designed especially for security work. Like poor, young Jeremy there — " he nodded at the remains on the floor "—they're biologicals, created in the laboratory. We've improved the brand substantially since your day, Mr. Valentine. These men represent the pinnacle of biological engineering." He turned his head. "Could one of you please fetch Mr. Breckenridge from the good detective? And lend him a coat? He seems to have lost his."
"Nuh uh," Nick said, taking a better grip on Breckenridge. "I'm going to keep Lenny for a while yet. Just for insurance purposes. I'll leave him outside somewhere safe. You can pick him up then."
"No, that won't do," Father said. "I really must ask for him back immediately. On this matter I will not negotiate. On the plus side, once you release him to me, you're free to go."
"Huh. I've heard that line before, from your pal, here. Turned out he was full of shit. I'm pretty sure you are, too."
Father sighed. "I understand that in your world, Mr. Valentine, men of honour are few and far between. At the Institute, things are rather different. Your actions, unwitting though they were, have saved me from a great personal embarrassment. I have promised that no harm shall come to you. Therefore, none will."
Nick started to speak, then glanced at Ellie. Holstering his pistol, he pushed Breckenridge roughly away from him. The trader staggered a couple steps, then straightened up, sneering. He walked over to where one of the coursers was holding out a coat for him and put it on.
"Father, –" he said.
"Silence." Father held up his hand. "You and I will have a great deal to discuss later." He nodded to two of the coursers, who grabbed Breckenridge by the arms. Then he turned back to Nick. "I am sure you have questions," he said. "As do I. Ask. I will answer what I can."
"Fine." Nick adjusted his hat. "It was you who ordered the patrollers shut down, wasn't it? Lenny thought I'd managed to hack the security system, but he was wrong. When I realized they were still warm, I knew they'd only just been turned off. That let me know our presence here wasn't exactly a secret. At first I thought it was Lenny, but why would he? I figured there had to be another player. Turns out it was you."
"Very good," said Father. "Go on."
"Jeremy couldn't understand why the Institute was after them. The only reason he could come up with was because they'd learned the secret of Vault 54. But he admitted to me that no one in the Institute would have given a damn about what went on here. So there had to be something else.
"They were flawed, weren't they? Jeremy and Eva. I can read a gene chart as well as anyone. Both kids had an inherited predisposition to early-onset cancer. It was a near certainty; I doubt they'd have lived to see their twenty-first birthday. Kind of funny for a program that was supposed to help clean up the gene pool, wouldn't you say? The funny thing is, their mother's genetic profiles were perfect. That means the abnormality must have come from the father. And do you know the other funny thing? They had the same father. They all did. I suppose it could have been intentional, if you had some kind of genetic superman whose DNA you wanted to spread through the population, or maybe if you were breeding for some specific trait. But if that was so, the trait they were breeding for was death by cancer, and only Jeremy and Eva got the lucky gene. The rest of the children, the ones that were marked "rejected" and disposed of, were all perfectly healthy.
"Father, he's making this up," Breckenridge objected. "You've seen the records from the 2066 program, I know you have. You signed off on them yourself. Why are we even listening to this nonsense?"
"Why indeed?" Father said. "Unfortunately, he's not making it up." He turned back to Nick. "Carry on."
"Lenny hinted at some kind of cabal at work in the Institute, people with their own ideas about who should be running things. So I'm asking myself: who around here could be so important that people would go to all this trouble to reveal his genetic imperfections, and then turn around and commit two murders to keep them secret?"
He continued: "You know, in the Commonwealth, we don't pay cancer much mind. All that leftover radiation hanging around… it's the single biggest cause of natural death. But I'll bet it's different here in the Institute. With no environmental factors to worry about and given how you people manage your gene pool, two young people dying of cancer one after another would have sent shock waves through the community. People would start asking questions. The truth would come out. And if the truth was that it was your failed DNA that was responsible ..." Nick looked at him. "That's an interesting title. 'Father'. Maybe it's just metaphorical. Or maybe it's not. When the news got out, would that have been enough to knock you off your throne?"
Father sighed. "I'm afraid it might," he said. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again. "The purity of my genetic code is of some political significance within the Institute," he said, finally. "It's complicated. Long ago, when I was very young, I was exposed to a large dose of high energy particles. By the time it was discovered, the damage was done. There is, as you say, a flaw in my DNA. One of considerable importance to me, personally, since it means that cancer will eventually claim me, as it does so many in the Commonwealth. But I have many years before that happens, and by the time it does, my plans will be far enough advanced that it won't matter. Until that time, however, knowledge of my weakness could indeed be used as a weapon against me. So it has been a well-kept secret. Or so we thought."
He paused. "There have always been those who disagreed with my leadership. I had thought them purged long ago. It seems they merely went underground." He looked at Nick. "You are right about cancer: it is virtually non-existent here. The repercussions of Eva and Jeremy's deaths would have been catastrophic for the Institute, and, when the news got out—as certainly the plotters intended it would – for me, as well."
Nick gestured at the group. "Cat's out of the bag now, wouldn't you say?"
Father shrugged. "I shouldn't think so. My coursers will do as they're programmed. You and Miss Perkins are irrelevant. Who would you tell? The only real wild card is Mr. Breckenridge. But I'm sure I'll think of something."
"It was a very long game they were playing," he added. "One that could have destroyed the Institute. Eva and Jeremy were simply pawns. Losing them meant the game was over for now. But there is a new intake scheduled for next year and no doubt the whole thing would have started all over again."
"So who ordered her killed?" Nick demanded. "Lenny, here, might have had some fancy ideas about how to go about it, but he wasn't acting on his own."
"Does it matter?" Father asked.
Nick growled. "It does to me."
"Then why don't you tell me?"
"Fine." Nick thought for a moment. "Let's start with the easy one – Jeremy. Once they realized Eva was actively looking for a way out of the Institute, they needed a way to control her. They couldn't let her leave. The minute she set foot outside, her cancer could be blamed on environmental factors instead of genetics." He paused, and his eyes narrowed. "It would have been simpler just to recruit the boy. Feed him some kind of story and get him to act as their eyes and ears. They tried that; Lenny said as much. And he refused. So they replaced him with a doppelganger. He would have had a handler, someone who made regular contact with his synth personality. My money's on Lenny for that. But Lenny dropped the ball. Maybe on purpose, since we know he's got his own game going."
"Father, this is madness!" Lenny said, struggling in the grasp of the coursers.
Father held up his hand. "Be still, I said." Lenny subsided, glowering. Father turned back to Nick. "Carry on," he said.
"Eva's trickier, since you both had motive. Once she left the Institute, she was a liability to the plotters. But she was just as much of one to you, once you found out about it. Even if you could blame her cancer on exposure, there would still be talk, which the plotters could have capitalized on. You had lots of time to arrange it, once you knew the kids were missing.
"I'm inclined to think Lenny was working under orders from the other guys, but it could just as easily have been you. It was your people who stole her body, of course, to cover up your secret. Even dead, her DNA could have been used against you. That put the plotters in a bind, because now Eva's gone and Jeremy's original body was destroyed. All they had left of him was his synth body. Not quite the same thing, but I'll bet when you grow a doppelganger, you start with the source DNA. That means the last chance they had was to retrieved Jeremy's genetic code from his synth."
Father nodded. "Very good," he said. "Your powers of deduction are remarkable.
"Thanks. So which is it?"
"Which is what? If you're asking whether I gave the command to have her killed, then I will say no. By the time I found out about it, she was already dead. My agents brought her body back, and in the course of testing, we discovered the secret of her genetic heritage. It came as something of a surprise to me, let me tell you. I very quickly came to the same conclusions as you have reached. Everything else I know about the plot against me I learned in the last few minutes, thanks to you. But I did not order either of those children killed."
"Why should I believe you?"
Father shrugged. "I cannot lie to you, Mr. Valentine. They jeopardized everything I hold dear. Through no fault of their own, it's true. But for that you may blame those who would have used them to destroy me. And rest assured, they will pay.
"But alive, they posed an existential threat to the Institute itself."
"The Institute is weak, Mr. Valentine. It cannot survive any instability. It is too small, too confined. Everything that we are, the vital work that we do, is constantly at risk. The smallest tremor could grow into an earthquake that would destroy all we have wrought and all our hopes for the future. Moreover, all of those who live there depend on me for their lives.
"So where is the greater good? And if the children had lived, how long before the cancer took them anyway? A handful of years at the most, then a long, painful death. I am greatly saddened by these events. How could I not be? Eva and Jeremy were my people, too, and I cared just as much about them as all of the others. But it could not be helped. Their deaths were ordained from the moment they were born. "
A storm cloud had been growing on Ellie's face, and now it broke. She pushed forward. "You, dirty, deceitful old man," she said. "Do you even hear what you're saying? That little girl wasn't a person to you. She was nothing. Less than nothing. Just a loose end that needed tidying up."
Father frowned. "My dear Miss Perkins, please. Do not speak on matters you don't understand."
"Oh shut it," she snapped. She pointed at Breckenridge. "Even your pet sadist over there is more human than you are. At least he knows what it means to feel pain. But you… you go on and on about your solemn duty, your high, noble purpose. You wouldn't know nobility if it was standing in the room next to you."
Father spread his hands. "What can I say? I am human, Miss Perkins, even if you disagree. The things I have done or ordered done come back to me nightly, to haunt me in the empty hours. But I would do them all again, a hundred times over, if that's what it took to ensure our continued survival."
He turned to Nick, and a pleading look came into his eyes. "You really could join us, Nick, as Mr. Breckenridge suggested. You too, Miss Perkins. The Institute needs people like you. People with fire and passion, with new ways of looking at things. Plus your experience with the Outside. Our work would profit immeasurably, and you would be in a position to make a real difference to the lives of those in the Commonwealth."
"Seriously?" Nick laughed. "I can't speak for Ellie, but for myself, I'd rather chew off my own foot."
Father smiled gently. "You think of me the enemy, and I understand why you would. But if you knew more, you would see things differently. We are humanity's only hope, Nick. Without us, all there is are a few barbarians squatting in the ruins, fighting over civilization's leftovers and sinking deeper and deeper into brutishness until there's nothing left. Do you want that? At least come back with me. Let me show you what we've built, what we're building. It's nothing less than the future. We could re-build the world. Together. Think of it: no disease, no warfare, no crime. A world finally at peace. Wouldn't you want to be part of that?"
Ellie looked at Nick in horror. "Nick – don't. You can't side with these monsters. You can't."
"I tend to agree with Ellie, if you don't mind. So far, the only thing you've managed to do is cause more misery instead of fixing anything. Maybe I might believe you if you tried to work with the people of the Commonwealth instead of hiding in the dark, pulling strings."
"There have been mistakes, I agree," Father said. "But you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, as the saying goes."
"People aren't eggs. As the saying goes."
Father smiled. "Why do you care? Do you not see the looks they give you, hear the things they whisper behind your back? For most, you represent their deepest fears. For the rest, you are, as Mr. Breckenridge said earlier, simply a machine. Not even human."
Nick's eyes flashed an angry yellow. Beside him, Ellie took his hand – the metal one, the one with all the skin stripped off – and squeezed it hard. He glanced over at her. "Maybe I'm not," he finally said. "But Nick Valentine was, and I'm pretty sure I know what side of the argument he'd have come down on."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Detective Valentine was a public servant, sworn to uphold law and order. People like that understand that sometimes you need to sacrifice for the greater good."
"Well, then I guess we're going to have to disagree on what constitutes the greater good."
"It saddens me to hear you say that, Nick. But I'll ask you once more to reconsider. For one thing, I believe there is something else I can offer you. Something of a more personal nature."
"Oh?" Nick raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"A new body. The one you wear now is a very old model. Obsolete, in fact. Even now you must find it getting a little creaky, not even considering the damage it has sustained over the years." Father motioned toward the coursers standing by the door. "You could be like them. Young. Healthy. Immensely strong and practically immortal, with a real heart in your chest instead of a metal pump."
"You can do that?"
"Yes. I don't mean a memory transfer, as was done with the original Nick Valentine – simply making a copy of your personality. I mean transferring your existing consciousness into a new body."
Nick gestured. "So I'd look just like the Bobbsey Twins over there," he said.
"Not at all. Your body would be as unique as you desired, designed to your exact specifications and indistinguishable from that of a human." In all respects." His glance flicked over at Ellie.
Nick snorted. "And in return I get to do your dirty work on the surface. Like him." He nodded at Lenny.
"Not unless you wanted to," said Father. "I offer you this free, without strings or expectations. As a mark of my people's gratitude to the saviour of the Institute."
"Huh." Nick stood silent for a moment. Finally he shook his head. "No, I like my mug the way it is. Lets me know who I am when I look in the mirror." He picked up his shotgun from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. "We're done here," he said. "Unless you're thinking of making trouble for us."
"No, of course not. The door is open and you are free to go. None of my people will bother you as you leave, and I am sure the little group of Railroad agents hiding outside will be enough to get you the rest of the way." He motioned, and the coursers stood back to let them pass.
Lenny pushed himself away from the wall as they walked by, his expression unreadable. Nick stopped, and their eyes locked for a moment.
"There is something I want, after all," he said to Father.
Father spread his hands. "Whatever it is, if it is in my power to grant, I will."
"Good. Happens I owe a friend a favour." He reached into his coat and in one movement drew his revolver and fired. A neat hole appeared in the middle of Breckenridge's forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. He staggered backwards and reached up in shock, touching his fingers to his head. He looked at Father, his mouth gaping open, then turned back to Nick, an expression of dismay on his face. "Brother…" he whispered. He slumped to the floor. There was a whirring noise from somewhere inside him, then silence.
Nick re-holstered his gun. "We'll be going now."
-OOO-