Chapter 20: Changes

It was late into the evening when she reached the top of the hill by the Red Rocket just outside Sanctuary. The farmers there waved to her as she passed and she smiled. It had taken years to build up this network of settlements. The Minutemen were now stronger than ever; and their new alliance with the Brotherhood was proving to be extremely helpful in their fight against the institute. It had taken some serious sweet-talking, but Nora had managed to get the necessary supplies and manpower needed for her next endeavor. Frankly, she was surprised that the young elder approved for so much. She guessed it had something to do with the fact that they were working towards the same goal: a way into the Institute.

Nora made her way over the decrepit bridge and into her old home; Dr. Virgil's plans for the transporter tucked safely into a pocket on her suit. At first, she hadn't really liked the idea of building it here...she'd tried to avoid this place as much as possible. There were too many memories. The more she thought about it though...the more it made sense. Sanctuary was secluded, and had more than enough space for it. Plus, since it was one of the first and largest settlements; there were a lot of Minutemen stationed there. If things were to go wrong...they were also going to have some Brotherhood backup there as well-just in case.

Nora grimaced as she thought about that last part. She knew plenty of people here who weren't going to like a bunch of Brotherhood troops stomping about in their literal sanctuary. The truth was, she wasn't about to let those overcompensating tin cans take control of this project from her. She was the one who risked it all retrieving the plans from the Glowing Sea in the first place. She's the one who had the thought to even attempt this insane mission. The Brotherhood were only here give some supplies and muscle if needed. She had made it clear to Maxson. While this was a joint effort-the transporter would remain in Minuteman control.

Only the night watch was awake this late, and she said her greetings to them before heading to the visitor's house. It had been a long couple of days and she was eager to get some rest. Laying back on one of the beds she slipped her PipBoy off and set it on the nightstand next to her. Nora switched it to the classical music and let the soothing piano wash over her tired mind. Tomorrow would be a big day. Tomorrow she would have to call a meeting to let her people know about her plans. There would be some opposition...she knew that. This was their best option. Her best option...if she was ever going to see her boy again.

Elder Maxson sipped his coffee thoughtfully as he sat behind his desk on board the Prydwen. The Vault-Dweller had left some time ago, and their conversation still ran through his mind. Her proposal had been...intriguing...to say the least. They had been working for so long to get a foothold here in the Commonwealth; and now they had a possible way into the Institute even. Finally, he could give his men what he had promised them for so long.

A gentle knock on his door broke through his thoughts and his long-time friend and commander, Kells entered. For a moment he was silent as the young elder looked him over. Something was amiss. Maxson could tell by the way his friend stood that he was irritated.

"Well, speak your mind then." He finally pressured the older man. Kells took a deep breath and sighed.

"It's about the transporter, sir." Maxson waited patiently, he'd known this was coming.

"That type of valuable technology belongs in the hands of the Brotherhood. Not some...rag-tag group calling themselves an army. That woman is using our materials and our men to secure this suicide mission. Why is it we are allowing her to build the machine on her turf?" Kells finished. Maxson leaned back in his chair took a breath. He knew why his friend would be agitated, but he hadn't gotten this far in the Brotherhood without knowing what the hell he was doing.

"That woman," he started, "would not have given us the plans to the transporter either way. This arrangement assures us access to the Institute-"

"That's if she and her little militia decide to let us in!" Kells cut in. Maxson narrowed his eyes a little but didn't lose his temper. An Elder had to remain calm when needed, and explain himself only when necessary.

"You talk as though I haven't thought this through old friend. Yes, they will have control of the transporter. Yes it will be on Minuteman soil. And yes I am aware that they can block us from entry at any time they see fit."

"Then why would you allow them this much freedom?" The room was silent a moment while Maxson choose his words.

"Do you really think they can control technology like that? When the whole project goes to hell, and it will, we will be there to swoop in and take over. I have already discussed this with her. She seems confident that her 'scientists' can handle it. And if by some miracle they are able to make the damn thing work-do you really think this 'rag-tag' militia is any match for the might of the Brotherhood of Steel?" Kells was silent but he could tell his words hit home. "Relax old friend. Our main focus at this time is getting into the Institute. Everything else is just secondary."

He woke early most mornings, preferring the quiet of the early sunrise to gather his thoughts. Not like he slept much anyways, even less now. Twelve weeks. It had been twelve weeks and not a word. On the outside he was business as usual; but on the inside he was roiling with tension and unease. He filled his days with work, embarking on missions and meeting with informants. He always left early and came back late; casting a pointed look at their head of correspondence as he did so. The young agent never had any news for him. Day after day he would look. Twelve weeks...no news from her.

Deacon walked sullenly along the deserted street in the mid-afternoon sun. Today he was tasked with escorting a caravan of assets from headquarters to a newly established safehouse on the other side of the city. Glory walked alongside, holding her rifle at the ready and scanning their surroundings. He took each step deliberately, moving in time with the heavy clopping of the supply-laden brahmin behind him. As with most days, his mind took him elsewhere.

"What's gotten into you lately?" She asked him suddenly. "You act like someone stole your favorite toy." Deacon stared straight ahead and continued walking. He knew eventually she would give up this line of questioning, he wasn't about to talk about this right now.

"We should make the safehouse before long. If we hurry, we could make it back to the Rail before nightfall...if this caravan ever picks up the pace that is." He finished in a barely-audible grumble. Glory snorted slightly and glanced behind her to the three synths disguised as farmhands shuffling along their path. She turned and stared pointedly at the side of his face for some time, watching him for any lapse in his ever-present mask. Of course there was none, and she settled for kicking a loose rock his way to amuse herself. He ignored the first one, but as the second and then third hit the side of his boot he turned, fixing her with an annoyed expression.

"I miss her too you know...in my way." She stated simply. Deacon said nothing, but returned his gaze to the road ahead. He caught a glimpse of the enormous airship through his peripherals and tensed slightly. They were pretty far away, but nowhere was too far for him. He hated knowing she was there, in danger...even more than he hated the Brotherhood themselves. But it was out of his hands now. He just had to settle with the fact and move on. Hearing nothing was a good thing too. It meant they hadn't found her out.

Late that night he sat in the stacks of the old church, right where she used to sit. He casually lit a cigarette and inhaled sharply, a bad habit he'd picked back up only recently. He sat and waited silently, not willing to end the night just yet. His thoughts again wandered over to her and he cursed silently to himself. How the hell had he let this happen? Why did he open himself up to care for someone as much as he did her? This was breaking all his rules, it was unacceptable-and yet he couldn't keep his mind from straying into thoughts of her. Where she was, what she was doing...was she sitting up like him tonight? Searching the surroundings for some indication of his well-being? Deacon sighed and took another long drag. Whatever he'd gotten himself into there was no stopping it now. His heart was invested; and whether he liked it or not, she was everything to him.

He stubbed out his smoke and rose stiffly to return back into the dank catacombs. As he rounded the corner he met up with an excited young runner. The boy stopped short and his eyes widened in glee at the sight of him.

"Agent Deacon! I was just coming to find you!" He sputtered quickly and hastily produced a small scrap of paper. "There's news sir, I was told you've been waiting." Deacon took the folded note and nodded seriously in assent-trying hard not to show the waves of excitement splashing around behind his expression. The young man grinned happily and hurried off, leaving him alone in the dimly-lit passage. He unfolded the note quickly, nearly tearing at the paper in his haste. Barely two lines were written there, and it took him merely seconds to decrypt the code.

"Agent Raven in position. Promoted to Lancer-Knight this morning. More reports to follow. -Rheems" Deacon breathed out a deep sigh of relief. She was alive...still in enemy territory-but she was alive. He smiled slightly to himself and continued on. For now-that would have to be enough.