Fiction: Fallout 4
Summary: Allies are made, Prime is finished, and the Minutemen train.
Category: Chapter 25
Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to any of the following work. While the writings themselves are my own, my character is created fully by myself, the other characters and story elements I do not own. I also do not own any of the Fallout 4 elements that are in play. Full credit goes to where it is due. Thank you. Thanks to Bethesda
-oOo-
"Everyone understand the task then?" Maxson asked, arms tucked behind his back, gloved fingers clasped together. They stood at Boston Airport, vertibird powered up and ready for takeoff. Paladin Jones and Proctor Ingram remained at attention before him, hands raised in respectful salute.
"Yes, sir," they both intoned.
"Excellent. I expect your quick return from Mass Relay. Be safe."
"Ad Victoriam!" Ingram cheered, a smile splitting out across her face. Weeks had passed since she had been given such an important field mission, her enthusiasm was expected.
The two women boarded the plane, Maxson watched from his position on the platform, hand raised in friendly farewell. He knew they would be successful in their endeavor; Ingram and Jones made an exemplary team, there was no logical way they could fail.
Once the bird was out of sight, disappearing amongst the buildings of what was formerly known as downtown Boston, one of the power armored soldiers that manned the perimeter to the landing pad cleared his throat to grab his Elder's attention. "Sir, one Preston Garvey of the Minutemen has arrived. He is requesting you whenever it is to your convenience."
"Ah, yes. Just on time. I will go to meet with him now. Where is he?"
"He was last seen with his men along the northwestern edge of the airport, near the entrance, sir."
"Outstanding. As you were, soldier."
Arthur stepped down from the zone and made his way into the Airport. Even at this early hour, Scribes and Initiates alike were bustling around. Liberty Prime's shadow stretched out along the buildings of stone and cement, his presence an ever looming reminder of the battle that they fought. Just a few more days… Just a few more days until their fight would be over. Amity would reign out across the Commonwealth, the wasteland freed from the Institute and their synth lackeys.
Maxson's heart swelled at the thought of it.
After so many months of strategical planning and endless violence, their campaign here would come to a close. The sense of pride and honor he felt was… beyond words. So many lives had been lost. Their sacrifice would now have purpose, meaning… they did not die in vain. No, not if they were victorious. All they needed was a few more pieces for Prime, just some last minute adjustments… and the Institute would be gone forever.
Doctor Li was poised along one of the higher ramparts, ice cold gaze glued onto the terminal she was working on, barking orders to the scientists below her. Though Arthur had been wary of her company upon her arrival, he had begun to see her usefulness. Her knowledge of Prime was immense, the amount of resources she brought the Brotherhood were countless. She was just as valuable as any of the brothers and sisters that took up arms on the field.
Preston Garvey stood with his back to Maxson as he approached. Though Arthur had not met the man personally, Jones spoke highly of him. Indeed, the Minutemen had become quite successful in the past month or two; their ability to keep the civilians of the settlements safe was commendable.
The concept of joining forces with them, as Paladin Jones had suggested, was wise. It gave them the advantage, providing more numbers and manpower to the cause. Had it not been for her, he may not have come to this conclusion on his own. It was not his forte to make friends with the unknown however, every rule had its loopholes.
"Hello there, Sir Garvey!" he greeted warmly, clapping a gentle hand onto the man's right shoulder. "Welcome to Boston Airport. I apologize that we are not meeting on more peaceful terms but, perhaps, in the days to come, we can change that."
Preston offered a small bow in return, a slow smile curling his lips upwards. "That is the hope, sir. I assume you are Arthur Maxson?"
"I am indeed. Paladin Jones informs me that you are interested in joining forces to take on the Institute. The Brotherhood of Steel would be more than happy to oblige. Though, you must understand, I have some questions for you prior to allowing you into my encampment." Though Jones had nothing but kind words to share regarding the Minutemen, Maxson did not want to put his own troops in danger. That, and he wanted to know just what they brought to the table. Creating allies was all well and good but, if one of the allies had nothing to offer… the joining would be meaningless and futile.
The leader of the Minutemen cleared his throat and sent a wary glance towards his own men and women. They were a ragtag group of individuals ranging from young to old, weak to strong, properly equipped to far from it. Jones had mentioned that they may need some tactical training… Arthur grew exceedingly worried as to what extent of teaching they would require to be worthwhile. "Of course, sir. I will do my best to answer all of your concerns."
"How many men are you offering?"
"Nearly one hundred."
Maxson nodded. That was a fair amount, roughly half of what he had aboard the Prydwen and within the Airport. "What kind of combat discipline have they received?"
"Admittedly, not much. They could use with some education. Though, some of them are well trained. Examples are MacCready, Tate, and Cait." Preston cocked his head towards the three. They stood together, each different from the next in their own ways. MacCready had a sniper rifle strapped to his back, the hard glint in his eyes indicative of his ability to scope things from afar. He was the kind of man that could nail his enemy from several meters away… and he looked like he wouldn't flinch a muscle at the mere thought of taking someone down. Probably not good with kids…
Cait, with her spiked scarlet hair and snarky grin, all but screamed rage hitter. She would go in hot, guns blazing, but with a precision that Maxson knew he did not want to be on the receiving end of. She was a wildcard and he was more than pleased to have her on his side.
Tate was another matter entirely. The man stood with his face concealed from view, a hat shadowing his expression. He wore simple clothes that bagged around his figure, a laser rifle positioned between his shoulder blades. Still, his muscles were prominently visible underneath all the fabric. Though he did well to hide it, he was likely the most seasoned of the trio, as if he had some sort of military training prior to joining the Minutemen. The way he stood highly implied this.
"Care to showcase their talents?"
Preston bobbed his head in agreement. "Sure, you have a target range?"
"Right this way," Maxson offered with a tilt of his head. "Right around the building here is where my soldiers practice."
"Tate?" The third of the trio's gaze flicked to Garvey's face. "This way."
Tate trailed behind them as they rounded the Airport, coming to stop at a chalked in line across the dirt. Ahead of them rested a variety of targets at a multitude of heights and distances. "Tate is a newer member, he only joined a week ago. However, he is one of our most capable men," Preston commented as Tate took position, pulling the rifle from his back. "He has been teaching some of our recruits back at the Castle."
The new recruit took aim through his glowed sight and fired three consecutive shots. Each one embedded into the center of his targeted bullseyes. His chosen spots were the trickiest of the bunch, requiring precision and accuracy.
"Outstanding," Maxson congratulated. "It is a decent start. Would you be against my Knights and Paladins offering some added training while you are here? I will grant you a portion of the Airport as your own, my soldiers will know not to intrude on you. We can discuss attack plans tomorrow aboard the Prydwen upon Paladin Jones and Proctor Ingram's return."
Preston and Tate exchanged a look. Interesting. "I was not aware that Ashtyn was on a mission," Preston said.
"Yes, she has accompanied my mechanic to Mass Relay. There is a piece there we need. I assure you, they will return safely. I apologize that she is not present today to welcome you though I am sure she will be back come morning." Preston relaxed, appearing comfortable with Maxson's explanation. "Would you care for a tour while we have the time?"
"Sure, that would be appreciated. Thanks, Tate, you can return to the others." Tate offered a mock salute as he departed, disappearing out of view as he made his way towards the other Minutemen. Preston turned his attention to Arthur, "Lead on."
-oOo-
It was after three in the afternoon when Arthur was able to break away from his duties with the Minutemen to check on his own soldiers.
The Scribes, paired with Proctor Quinlan, were busy, noses buried in folders full of documents. They were scouring for any information they could use against the Institute – any recorded weakness, any known entrance to their facility. On report thus far, they had nothing. But Quinlan was optimistic, assuring the Elder that they would find something if given enough time.
Cade was content, not needing any supplies. He agreed to completing checkups on their newly acquainted allies but otherwise stated he was free if anything should arise. Paladin Brandis was with the good doctor at the time, and verified that he would be more than willing to aid leading some training exercises come morning. Though Maxson was once suspicious of Brandis' abilities upon his return to service, the man had been nothing but loyal and committed since day one. He would be the perfect person to help educate the Men.
Teagan… Maxson bristled at the thought of seeing him. Their conversation had not gone smoothly the night before. Though Arthur had tried to address Jones' concerns with the Proctor with tact and poise, Teagan had not wanted to hear a single word of it. Because of his sheer lack of veneration for the condition he had put the Brotherhood in, Maxson had no other choice but to ground him.
Maybe it would be best to come back later…
Maxson pivoted on his heels and made his way for the lower decks, ducking to avoid the lowing hanging tubes and wires that crisscrossed along the ceiling. As he approached his destination, he could hear the bubbled laughter of children bouncing off of the cold, metal walls of the Prydwen.
Squires… Even after so many years, his gut twisted uncomfortably. Children should never be forced to serve. He thought back to his own daughters, heart shuddering. If they had been conscripted, against his will, how would he feel? As parents of these children, what did they go through? Every day wondering if their child was safe or alive… Sure, sometimes they took children off the streets, children who had no home or family to speak of. In those cases, Arthur could argue that they bettered that child's life, gave it purpose and meaning. But… not everyone fit into that mold.
As he entered onto the deck that housed the Squires, two in particular sped over to him. "Elder Maxson!" they cheered, bright eyes blinking, playful grins spreading out across their faces He had grown fond of this pair. They had followed Jones' lead back at Sanctuary some months ago and had come to join the Brotherhood after she left. Jeremy and Tim, that was their names.
"Well hi to you too," he greeted, squatting down to their level. "What can I do for the two of you today?"
Tim, the more confident of the two, spoke first, "Paladin Ashtyn isn't here. She said she would take us down to the airport to practice shooting today."
Jeremy nodded enthusiastically beside his friend, "But Captain Kells says she isn't onboard."
Ah, Jones had mentioned that when he offered her the mission. Seems she never got the chance to tell the kids. "Sorry guys, I stole her from you. She's on a top secret assignment for me. Trying to get Prime up and running and we are missing some parts, she's retrieving one as we speak." Still, it was saddening how upset they had become about this. There had to be a way to rectify the situation.
"So cool," Jeremy said with awe, eyes going wide.
Tim didn't share the younger child's demeanor. "But she was supposed to train with us," he pouted.
The look of heartbreak on Tim's face cemented Maxson's resolve. "Tell you what. I know I'm not nearly as great as Jones is but, how's about you two come with me and I can show you a thing or too?"
Both of their mouths dropped open. "You… You would… shoot with us? But, but aren't you busy with your Elder stuff?"
Maxson chuckled. "I can make time for it. Nothing could be more important than helping you guys."
-oOo-
Night had fallen by the time Maxson found himself along the southern border of Boston Airport, alone at last. The stars twinkled far above his head, skewed from sight due to a dispersing of cloud coverage, tall looming peaks indicating that a storm was threatening the horizon. The air was heavy with moisture, the humidity high. Each breath felt thick.
But it didn't matter. He couldn't care less about the weather. Not in this moment.
A large stone was wedged into the ground before him, the front portion sanded down until it was smooth. Chiseled into the boulder's surface was the words 'Here Lies Paladin Danse; A True Soldier. Ad Victoriam, Brother'.
It was a grave, of sorts. One that held no person, no body underneath. No, it was purely for the soul – the one that Maxson had been so quick to pulverize.
What he had done… what he had condemned his most reliable advisor to… it was unforgiveable. He knew there was no atonement for his actions. But trust, it seems, could be so easily broken. All it had taken was a few documents found on a holotape for him to realize the deceit Danse had been concocting behind his back. Danse, M7-97 was an abomination, a synth, a monstrosity. He was a threat to every single man, woman, and child that resided within the Commonwealth. Sending Jones after him… It had to be done. Everyone needed to know that the Brotherhood of Steel was honest of their endeavors, that they would not cease until every last synth was put down. Though he knew what he did was right as far as the Code was concerned… Morally? He was uncertain.
Danse had been a friend, a treasured one. They had been through years of service together, countless missions and victories… and failures. While, yes, he was a machine, it was difficult to forget the friendship, the brotherhood they had once held.
And the look Jones had given him, the one that had so richly plastered itself onto her angular face, the one that screamed he was wrong… that face had haunted him.
No, there was no penance, not for his sins.
"I'm sorry, Danse. You deserved better," Maxson whispered, kneeling before the grave with a closed fist placed over his heart. "You were a warrior, one of the best. I did not allow you to have a death of honor, of valor. I hope you can forgive me."
'I'm sure he will find a way to, sir," a voice echoed from behind him.
Maxson's back tightened, his jaw set as he stood to peer around his shoulder. "Apologies," he replied gruffly, "I had thought I was alone."
One of the Minutemen, Tate, stepped forward out of the shadows, head bowed in respect. His gaze was zeroed in on the makeshift gravestone, lips pulled into a tight line. "What happened to him?" he questioned.
"He…" Maxson let out a slow exhale, his own attention returning to the stone. How do you explain one of your greatest failures? Where do you even start? "He betrayed us. He was a traitor."
"Yet you have a grave for him?" Tate hedged.
"He was also a friend, like a brother to me," Maxson admitted.
They had been together in the D.C Wasteland, they had helped launch Project Purity alongside Elder Lyons. They had achieved the once considered impossible, hand in hand, brothers in arms. Clean, non-radiated water had been dispensed to the civilians for the first time in centuries. They had created a better place for everyone to live in.
So, when the situation at the Commonwealth was brought to their attention, it was only natural for Danse and Maxson to jump at the opportunity to be successful once more. If only…
"That sounds complicated. What did he do?"
Maxson rubbed his right hand over his left wrist, an unconscious habit of his that he had obtained whenever speaking of things he considered uncomfortable to discuss. "Typically I would keep such information to myself, but there should be no secrets between allies. Besides, what's done is done. This man was a synth; he infiltrated our ranks and was granting the enemy an inside eye. Given the current stakes, I couldn't risk keeping him alive."
"That must have been challenging for you, issuing that order."
Arthur inhaled sharply, eyes trailing towards the moon as it peered around the edge of a cloud. "You have no idea."
"Is that why you seek forgiveness, sir?" Tate moved to stand beside him, mirroring his actions as he tugged the collar of his coat tighter around his muscled shoulders, the gun on his back swaying in its holster as he did so.
"Yes. Though, I question if I am worthy of it." He watched idly as the cloud moved to cover the move, the brilliant white light fading and the world was drenched in black once more.
"Why do you say that?"
Maxson chuckled though it held no mirth, no glee, no happiness. "I had a friend killed. I ordered one of my soldiers to slaughter my brother. No matter the reasoning behind it, it was a monstrous act to commit." He replayed that morning in his mind so many times, it was a constant reminder as he slept.
Rifling through the files Quinlan had prepared for him, the pit that grew in his stomach like a heaping pile of smoldering hot lead as he came to the same conclusion his Proctor had just moments beforehand. Knowing that he had been betrayed so deeply… The feeling was indescribable. Years of trust gone, undone within a spattering of seconds. Every last shred of it. And he knew, for that moment on… He could never let someone that close again.
"With all due respect, sir, you're wrong." Tate rubbed the palm of his hand along the back of his neck, dark copper eyes flicking to the stone. "You did what you thought was right. You refused to allow an exception to your rules and guidelines. If this Danse lived, you would prove weak in the minds of your enemies. Like you said, the stakes were too high. You couldn't afford to have such a threat within your ranks."
"I appreciate what you're trying to do, soldier, but you can spare me the speech. I've made my own grave, allow me the decency to lay in it." His words were spoken with such finality, with such conviction.
"I still think he would be able to forgive you."
"If only dreams were real," Maxson responded, a bitter bite lacing his tone.
"There's no reason they can't be," Tate argued.
"Sounds like you've been speaking to Jones too much," Maxson jested, desperately attempting to pour some humor into the conversation. "That's the type of stubborn reply she would come up with."
"She's been a good influence on the Minutemen." Quick, as if practiced. Interesting.
"That does not surprise me, she is one of my most liked recruits. She has been exemplary in her ability to rise in my ranks. It comes as no shock that she has done the same with your group." Though Jones was sarcastic to a fault, thick skulled to the point of absurdity, and irrational in her decision making… no one could deny her capabilities on the field and her drive as a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin. Though he had questioned her beliefs before, even questioned her and doubted her standing… She had proven him wrong at every turn.
Bringing the Minutemen and BOS together… an outstanding idea.
As if mirroring her thoughts, Tate said, "I'm glad she was able to convince you to give us a shot."
"As am I," Maxson agreed. "Which, I'm sure is what you came to discuss, not to wallow in my own self-pity."
Tate shrugged, eyes turning to meet Maxson's. "Everyone, no matter who, needs a helping hand sometimes. We aren't made of rock."
"A helpful reminder, soldier. Thank you. Now, why don't you lead me back to your miniature headquarters, and we can talk." Maxson waved his hand towards the portion of the Airport that had been designated for the Minutemen.
"Yes, sir," Tate replied, bobbing his head as he moved to take point, just as the moon freed itself from the cloud.
-oOo-
Three days later… they were ready.
Months of preparation, of work, of diligent effort… today was the day that all came to a close.
Today was the day the Institute was going to fall.
Overnight, Proctor Ingram and Doctor Li installed the final piece for Liberty Prime. He was almost ready. Just a few more tests to run and he would be fully operational, fully functioning. He had taken down the Enclave once… hopefully he was strong enough to offer his aid once more.
The past few days were filled from dawn to dusk with drills and combat training. Every afternoon the Airport would be alight with muzzle flashes and the ever-endless sound of gunfire. The Minutemen troops were shaping up, their aim improving by leaps and bounds. They learned tactical commands, how to strategize, and when to go for the kill or stay in cover. Evenings were spent with Preston, pouring over battle plans and attack maneuvers.
Today was the day.
The lower decks of the Prydwen were abuzz with activity as Squires helped the higher ranking officials, gathered equipment, and loaded up Vertibirds and trucks. Along one of the long abandoned runways at the Airport, a convoy was being created. Said convoy would follow behind Prime, leading an onslaught through downtown Boston as they carved a path towards the old CIT ruins.
Paladins and Knights alike were gearing up, making final repairs on their power armor and guns, and taking to the skies so they could join their fellow soldiers at the landing pad far below the Prydwen. They were prepared to risk life and limb for the sake of the Commonwealth.
And here he was, nerves a muddled wreck.
Maxson paced back and forth in his bunk room, right hand fingers knotted in his shortly cut hair, tangling in the chestnut locks as he gritted his teeth together.
Focus and concentrate.
Think of nothing but the goal.
He hadn't been on the field in over a year. As Elder, his place was at the helm, controlling the strings behind the scenes as his brothers and sisters fought on the frontlines.
Today was the day.
Though he was current with his combat education, he couldn't quell the trepidation and anxiety that laced his flesh. What if something went wrong? What if Prime didn't fire? What if the damned machine broke down halfway to the ruins?
The whole mission was filled to bursting with 'what if's', several of them ending with no conclusion or answer. So many things could go incredibly wrong…
Today had to be perfect, or the Commonwealth would suffer, its people would pay the price.
And Maxson couldn't rest easy with that amount of pressure pounding on his shoulders.
They were either going to have a glorious victory today… or a devastating failure.
And people were going to die.
Again.
Maxson hands moved to grasp the sink he had, eyes snapping up to focus on his own reflection as it glared back at him in the mirror.
"You can do this," he whispered.
His reflection looked less then convinced.
"You can do this," he tried again, voice harder and carrying an ounce more of conviction.
Today was the day….
History was going to be made.
A/N – Sorry for the wait guys! I am fully moved in now, woo woo! Sorry this chapter is more on the shorter side. Again, Maxson isn't one of my 'main' characters but I still wanted to let you into his headspace for a hot second. After this sucker, I plan to upload once a week (maybe twice, maybe). I also intend on creating a secondary fic for Broken Steel for one-shots. I had a guest commenter, you know who you are, who requested that I do a 'Truth or Dare' fic. I can't really find a place to stick in where I am currently (big huge battles against the Institute don't a-merry make, big shocker), but I want to do it.
Which leads me to my proposition; if you guys have any one-shots you want to read, let me know in a message or comment! If I get enough of them, I'll try to post one a week alongside the main story plot. Main story plot will be updated at the start of the week, and the one-shots would be updated near the end. Sound peachy? Great.
Thanks again for sticking around guys!