The Wanderer: Chapter 26
- Joules Prescott -
When it came to navigating the labyrinth of buckled boulevards and battered buildings of the downtown D.C. ruins, there were few better than the knights of the Brotherhood of Steel. Though the trek from the back door of the Galaxy News Radio studio to Wilhelm's Wharf had been fraught with many dangers, the Lyon's Pride had made the journey with little difficulty. And know they were being presented with what smelled like an incredible lunch.
"Here'go folks." Grandma Sparkle said as she sat a tray of fresh cooked mirelurk cakes down on the table. "Got my own special recipe so eat'em while they're hot."
Joules looked nervously at the warriors seated around him.
"Go on son," The old woman urged. She was in her mid-seventies but her lithe body and upbeat nature made her seem much younger. Her grey hair was cut short and youthful and her eyes still held the sparkle that resulted in her nickname. She wore the Brahmin-skin outfit of a scavenger but had the soul of a chef. "Mirelurk's the finest meat you can get, and it don't move around in your stomach like mole rat does."
Somehow Joules didn't find that to be much of an endorsement. But he was starving and he was slowly growing accustomed to eating the irradiated creatures of the Wasteland. Besides, the steaming cakes did smell delicious.
"You might as well eat one, vault dweller," Sarah said with a wink. "You sure killed enough of them."
Joules nodded and took a plate, blushing slightly at the girl's compliment.
He hadn't been thrilled about traveling through the underground again after his first metro experience, but the Brotherhood found the tunnels to be quicker to navigate and easier to remain undetected by the Enclave. Not to mention, the knights were experts at maneuvering through the complex network of interconnected DC Transit Authority service tunnels, utility tunnels and metro rail tracks that crisscrossed beneath the heart of the city.
They had entered through the Foggy Bottom station on the west side of Dupont Circle. After speaking with Three Dog, Joules was anxious to make his way to Rivet City, but the idea of wandering the Wasteland alone again gave him pause. Sarah talked him into accompanying her and the Pride. She admitted it wouldn't be the most direct route, but she promised to get him to where he needed to go.
Sarah, as the vault dweller discovered, was a hard girl to say no to. She was charismatic and persuasive – the kind of person that people couldn't help but follow. Not-to-mention, she was the most attractive woman Joules had ever seen with the exception of Amata, of course.
"Yeah, that was some fine shooting in the utility tunnels," Paladin Glade agreed as he stuffed a hot cake into his mouth.
"I'm surprised a vaultie knows his ass from an energy weapon," Knight Captain Dusk added with a grin.
"I had a bb gun growing up." Joules replied earnestly, as he had done with Defender Morgan. Again the comment caused quite the laugh around the tables of Captain Paglia's Dockside Bar & Grille. Joules' face reddened, embarrassed by the Pride's laughter. The boy couldn't help but wonder why people always laughed about his favorite birthday present…
Truth be told, the vault dweller's weapons handling skills had markedly improved from his first bloatfly encounter. Engaging the Vault Assisted Technology System was becoming more and more instinctual, and it didn't take nearly the physical toll on him that it had initially. Not to mention, even without VATS, the young man's reaction time and accuracy were leaps and bounds ahead of where he had started several weeks ago. But the Wasteland was always full of surprises and found ways to shake a person's confidence…
In the murky depths of the tunnels beneath the Potomac, Joules was introduced to a whole new horror of the Capital Waste when the group was attacked by mutated crustaceans known as mirelurks. These horrific, crab-like creatures stood erect and attacked with their gigantic clawed arms. Their entire bodies were completely encased in a carapace as tough as power armor. Their natural armor and razor sharp pincers made them a formidable foe with a deadly attack, and their only real weakness seemed to be their oblong faces that were tucked beneath a hooded shell. The small area was hard to hit, especially when they lowered their heads during their ramming, head-butting charges.
Assisted by VATS, Joules had duly impressed the Brotherhood knights with his ability to consistently and accurately put round after round of laser fire directly into the faces of the attacking mirelurks. It never ceased to amaze Joules that he could impress such remarkable warriors as the Brotherhood of Steel.
As it turned out, Grandma Sparkle's mirelurkcakes were also remarkable. Joules enjoyed them so much he even tried a bowl of her famous mirelurk stew. As he ate, the vault dweller realized that sitting around the table enjoying a "homecooked" meal and swapping stories with these people filled a void in him that had been empty since his childhood. Not the thetans or even Amata had ever made him feel as much a part of something as he had felt over the past few days – even if he wasn't exactly sure what that "something" was…
The thought, however, made him feel guilty. Lately all his thoughts of Amata made him feel that way. He felt guilty that he was forgetting things like the smell of her hair and the sound of her laugh. Guilty that the transponder in his Pip-Boy caused him to doubt their relationship. Guilty that he couldn't stop comparing her to Sarah. And, especially guilty that he found the young Brotherhood Sentinel so damned alluring.
It was true that wandering the Wasteland alone terrified him, but he knew deep down that he had agreed to travel with the Pride because Sarah had asked him too and because he wanted to spend more time getting to know the girl. That disloyalty to Amata and to the mission of finding his mother, however, was tearing him up inside more than a stomach full of mole rat meat…
After lunch, the group bid their farewells to Grandma Sparkle and headed back into the underground via a sewage grate behind the outhouse of Captain Paglia's. Joules was informed that the tunnel connected the sewage grate to a Hubris Comic Book building, and despite his distaste for subterranean travel, the boy had to admit that he was pretty excited about their destination.
Even so, the trip had been particularly unpleasant for the vault dweller. Once again he had found himself immersed in a subterranean world of generators, gas leaks, and ghouls. The difference this time, of course, was the Brotherhood of Steel. The Pride traversed the tunnels quickly leaving behind a trail of laser burns and scorched feral ghouls in their wake until at last they emerged from another utility tunnel into an expansive building that had once been used to publish Hubris Comics.
Joules was fascinated to pass through the hallowed halls of the building that had created such legends as Captain Cosmos and the vault dweller's beloved Grognak the Barbarian. He could have spent all day scrounging through the endless banks of filing cabinets searching for comics that might have weathered the storms of the past hundred years. But unfortunately time was short and his tour group had a different destination in mind.
They moved out of the building and headed due east across a rubble strewn avenue that overlooked a sunken city park to the south. It appeared as if the park once held a playground and picnic areas for people to take a break from the hustle and bustle of the surrounding city. Now the park housed only radiation and a surly squad of Super Mutants.
The uglies noticed the Brotherhood first and opened up right away with an impressive salvo of gunfire.
The Pride, however, had the high ground, and they used it to their full advantage. Sarah and Glade defended the stairwells while Dusk and Joules sniped uglies from the balcony. Gallows, of course, did what he did best – his own thing. He disappeared down a set of stairs on the backside of the avenue and ended up flanking the mutant squad from ground level.
The multi-pronged attack created a lot of confusion among the beasts and ended with a bloody exchange of gunfire and a park full of dead uglies. As Joules looked down at the hulking green monstrosities lying dead among the swing sets and slides, he was overcome with a déjà vu of the Early Dawn Elementary School encounter.
"What is it with playgrounds and Super Mutants?" he asked through his headset.
Sarah laughed, then responded only by saying, "Hang in there vault dweller, we're almost home."
Home? he thought. The concept was practically foreign to him. Home was a dream he had had as a child. Home was a backpack and a dry place to sleep – preferably low on background radiation. Home to Joules was a destination – an idea he had been chasing as long as he could remember, but he had yet to truly find...
He was wondering what the word meant to Sarah as they crested an immense pile of rubble that had probably once been someone's home. On the other side of the mound of debris Joules found himself staring down at the incredible five-sided structure once known as the Pentagon.
Joules had learned of this magnificent building, of course, during Mr. Brotch's pre-War Government class. The former headquarters of the United States Department of Defense was a massive pentagonal structure that sprawled across more than twenty-eight acres of land on the western edge of the Potomac River. The five-story, six million square foot building consisted of five concentric "ring" corridors on each floor. The seventeen miles of corridors encircled an additional five acre central courtyard that had been colloquially known as "Ground Zero".
Despite its nickname, the building didn't appear to have taken a direct hit during the Great War. It had certainly suffered plenty of damage, though, as many of its outer walls had to be buttressed with gigantic steel supports.
The only entrance appeared to be a corner of the building that had collapsed during the bombings. A solid steel portcullis attached to a crane barricaded the opening of the imposing fortress and several knights stood guard at either side.
They came to attention as Sarah approached and commanded them to stand at ease and open the gate.
Within moments the crane sputtered to life. Joules watched in awe as the colossal steel barricade gradually began to rise. A large series of spikes ran along the bottom of the barricade giving it the appearance of a giant metallic mouth slowly opening for its next meal.
The vault dweller struggled to take it all in as they passed beneath the portcullis and into the central courtyard. The Brotherhood had segregated portions of the five-acre bailey for various purposes and activities. There was a sparring ring for hand-to-hand combat training, a shooting range for weapons practice, and even an area where they farmed their own food. Every square inch of the courtyard had been put to use.
The group crossed the yard and approached an elderly man who was observing a group of initiates getting schooled in martial arts by a bizarre, dark-skinned woman who appeared to be half human, half machine, and all business. She was easily fending off three initiates even though they were attacking her simultaneously.
Joules had no doubt that the man they were approaching was the Supreme Commander of the Brotherhood of Steel. The elder stood straight and tall, with the posture of a battle-hardened warrior and the regal aura of a king. He wore an elaborate blue-grey robe over a thick, high-collared suit of under armor. As ostentatious as the outer garment was, the dark-grey under armor offered a constant reminder to the danger that existed in the Capital City Wasteland.
Even a king in his own castle has to wear some sort of armor at all times, Joules thought.
The man turned and strode toward the group as he noticed their approach. Despite his age, which Joules judged to be in the seventies, the old warrior still moved with a cat-like grace.
"Joules Prescott, I would like you to meet my father, Owyn Lyons," Sarah said with obvious pride. "Elder of the West Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, Supreme Commander of the Citadel, and Warden of the West."
"Welcome to the Citadel," the Elder stated, reaching out to clasp Joules' hand. His greeting seemed friendly, but Joules detected a hint of suspicion in the man's eyes.
"It is an honor," the vault dweller replied, uncertain how to respond to the King of the Brotherhood Knights. The Elder's grip was firm and indicative of a man who still possessed great strength beneath his blue robe. Although there was nothing left on top of his head but white wisps of hair, he had an impressive beard that he kept neatly trimmed about his collar. His sunbaked skin was a patchwork of wrinkles, but his eyes still blazed with a youthful spirit that somehow made the warrior king seem ageless.
"I am told you dispatched a rather nasty Behemoth at our GNR Outpost. That is very impressive for someone so new to the Wasteland." Again Joules detected a hint of suspicion in the man's voice…
"It was a lucky shot," the vault dweller replied awkwardly. "…and a team effort," he added. "The Lyons' Pride are incredible warriors."
"Yes, they are quite impressive," Elder Lyons replied as he glanced at Sarah for a moment. There was pride in his eyes and Joules could sense that the bond between father and daughter ran deep. "Now if you would indulge an old man, there is something I would like to show you…"
The Warden of the West turned back toward the sparring ring just as the cyborg woman delivered a round-house kick to the last initiate standing that dropped him to the dirt with the others.
"Would you join us, Star Paladin Cross?" he called to the magnificent warrior.
"As you wish, Elder." She replied in a strong voice without a hint of breathlessness from the training session.
Elder Lyons led the group of four to a doorway near the edge of the sparring ring, and beyond they wound through a corridor that ended at a doorway labeled "Laboratory".
They entered a dimly lit room full of scientific equipment tended to by robed men and women the Brotherhood called Scribes. The machines and scribes alike were busy processing data and generating reports. Few of the robed scientists even noticed them as they first entered the room.
An older scribe finally took note and hurried over to greet them. He wore a set of crimson robes over a brown leather outfit. Similar to the Elder, the scribes wore a high-collared cape that buttoned across their breast and draped just below the shoulders. Somehow they reminded Joules of the cassocks and mozzettas the Thetans wore at St. Kelvins. It made the knights seem more like religious crusaders than Wasteland warriors.
"Elder Lyons," the scribe said in greeting as he neared the group. He spoke with the confidence of a man who was clearly in charge of the laboratory.
"Senior Scribe Rothchild," the Elder replied with a hint of anticipation in his voice. "I have someone I would like you to meet."
Sarah ushered Joules forward until he was standing between her and the strange Star Paladin. He studied the Senior Scribe as he approached. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties – bald with the exception of a ring of neatly-trimmed, white hair around the sides of his head. Although his face was beginning to show signs of aging, he had a strong jaw and a firm physique. The wrinkles around his eyes added to their sparkling blue intensity. They were bright and inquisitive – the kind of eyes that reminded Joules of his father.
"Ah…" the scientist beamed with excitement, "the young man from Vault 101."
"Joules Prescott," the vault dweller said, extending his hand.
"Reginald Rothchild," the man replied. The Senior Scribe's grip was as powerful as his enthusiasm, but his hand was smoother than the Elder's had been. It was clear that Reginald spent most of his time in the laboratory.
"Well, Rothchild…?" The Elder asked with a bit of impatience. "Do you really think that this could be the boy…?"
Joules looked from one man to the other trying to determine what it was they were not saying. He glanced at Sarah, but she had the same strange look of expectation as her father. The anticipation sizzling among the group was so palpable that Joules began to feel anxious too. Somehow he was getting the sense that something important was about to happen.
"It certainly would appear to be the case, but there is truly only one way to know for sure…" the scribe answered cryptically.
Joules didn't like the ominous response or the way that everyone was looking at him. The tension in the room was fraying his nerves. Not to mention, standing between a power-armored Sentinel and a Star Paladin cyborg made him feel extremely vulnerable. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake trusting these people after all…
Both Rothchild and Elder Lyons appeared to be weighing an unspoken decision. Finally the Elder made up his mind and gave his Senior Scribe a slight nod. Rothchild called out to several of his scribes as paranoia began to run rampant through the vault dweller's mind.
Three scribes emerged from the shadows of a dark corner. As they neared the group, the two in front separated and an older woman, roughly the same age as Rothchild, stepped up to the boy.
It took Joules' frantic mind a moment to grasp what was happening. The woman in the crimson robes of the Brotherhood Scribes smiled warmly as she approached the vault dweller. Although she had obviously aged since he had seen her last, the years had been kind to her. She still had the lustrous, curly blond hair that he remembered as a boy and the same smile that had always been able to heal his wounds.
"Oh, son…" she said softly, her voice drowning in a flood of emotions. It seemed like she intended to say more, but the worlds caught in her throat. The look on her face mirrored what Joules felt – an impossible mixture of emotions all struggling to reconcile themselves at once.
"Mother…" His response was half a question and half a statement – as if saying the word aloud would make it real. He hesitated just a moment, and then rushed to her arms.
His sudden movement startled several of the scribes who looked as if they might attempt to block him, but Rothchild waved them off. There had been doubts about whether or not the vault dweller was really the son of Catherine Prescott or a clever imposter sent to do her harm. After witnessing their reunion, there were no doubts anymore.
"I knew you would find me," the woman sobbed as she held her son. "You were always such a clever child."
Joules was still struggling to sort out his emotions. He had millions of questions swimming around in his mind but couldn't find the words to ask them. Finally he uttered the one word that encompassed all the others, a single syllable that asked all of his questions at once.
"Why?" the boy whispered.
Although it wasn't an accusation or condemnation, it caused a fresh wave of tears to stream from his mother's eyes. Through the tears and the guilt she struggled to find an answer.
"What your father and I were doing – what we had to do – we knew how dangerous it was… We couldn't risk your life too. That was the one price we were not willing to pay for our cause…"
Joules could sense how much it hurt her to relive those decisions, but the answer barely scratched the surface of the whys that were roiling within him.
"If you were leaving me behind to keep me safe, then why leave the hidden message in my Pip-Boy? Why not let me stay in the safety of the vault forever..?"
"There is no safety in the vault." Catherine replied, her sad eyes taking on a harder edge. "Not with the corruption of Alphonse Almodovar." She spat out the Overseer's name as if it were profane. "Not as long as scientific discovery is siphoned from the population and supplied to the Enclave. As long as there are evil men like Almodovar and evil organizations such as the Enclave, there is no safety anywhere. Now you have seen first-hand what people like that can do to the world…
Joules finally broke the embrace and stepped back to get a better look at his mother. Incredulously he asked, "So you coaxed me out of the vault to show me just how horrible a place the world has become?"
"No, son." She implored, visibly shaken by his accusation. "I brought you here because I wanted you free of the Overseer – free of the corruption of the vault. I brought you here because I love you dearly and have missed you every day. I brought you here to help me finish the work your father and I started so many years ago. I brought you here because I need you – we all do…"
The irony was too much for Joules. He hadn't felt like anyone had ever needed him. He was a misfit, abandoned by his parents and shunned by other children. Other than Thetan Cruz and Amata, he doubted anyone even noticed his absence from the vault. "I'm just a vault maintenance technician. Not exactly the "save the world" type…"
"The world is saved by those willing and brave enough to rise to the challenge. People who aren't afraid to step outside of their comfortable existence to become something more than just a casual observer. Organizations such as the Enclave lust for power and control. They strive to dominate the world and subjugate the masses. We cannot allow this to happen. Mankind has been weakened but not destroyed. The human spirit is still buried beneath the rubble and irradiated soil of this battered world.
"People like the Brotherhood of Steel understand that the hope for the future of mankind still exists. It may be a seedling struggling to take root and push its way toward the light, but it still exists. We have to nurture it, to enlighten it, to give it the care and feeding necessary to help it grow.
"Your father understood this. Even isolated within the vault he knew that the human spirit could thrive once again given the proper conditions. His work in the reduction and reversal of the effects of radiation was crucial to mankind's rebirth. It is still crucial…"
"But I am not my father!" Joules cried out in frustration. "I'm just a repair man. I can fix robots and water purifiers, but I can't fix a broken planet!"
"But you have your father's mind, Joules." His mother continued, her soothing voice calming her agitated child. "And you have his research."
"His research..?"
"Yes, son. Not only could your father and I not risk taking a ten year-old child with us into the Wasteland, we also couldn't risk taking our research. We knew the Enclave would hunt us and we had to keep the research out of their hands at all costs. So I hid it in your Pip-Boy."
Joules looked down at the device on his wrist. How could it be possible that he had held his parents most precious possessions for fifteen years without the Overseer or the Enclave discovering his secret? "But they searched my Pip-Boy – a whole team of technicians – bit by bit, every register…"
"As I knew they would," his mother smiled knowingly. "And I admit, hiding my small birthday message was tricky, but hiding two lifetimes of research took even more finesse. Yet, I knew that people like Alphonse Almodovar are too ambitious to be overly sentimental. So I hid the data in the one place those evil bastards would never suspect."
"The pictures!" Joules exclaimed, again struck by the recurring irony that was his childhood. How many times had he stared at the hundreds of family photos left by his parents? To think he had been staring at their research his entire life was so astounding that it actually made him laugh out loud.
"Yes," Catherine nodded approvingly. "You see how intuitive your mind is? I steganographically encrypted our family photos with thousands of pages of research. Once I embedded our research in the pictures, I maintained the chaffing and winnowing algorithm on my Pip-Boy. Without both devices, the pictures are just pictures and nothing more. But after I run the decryption and extraction algorithms we will once again regain the knowledge that your father gave his life to protect."
"And then what?" Joules was having trouble processing the revelations his mother was unveiling and all their possible implications.
"Your father believed that pure water was the first ingredient necessary to begin to heal the world and its population and reduce the devastating effects of radiation. I began a project at Rivet City many years ago, but without your father's research the project stalled."
Joules nodded, he was beginning to grasp the importance of their family's photos. "But pure water won't wash the world clean of pure evil. There will still be organizations like the Enclave. There will still be people like Alphonse Almodovar." Joules reasoned aloud.
Again Catherine smiled at the boy's intuitive nature. "Truly spoken," she said with the look of a proud mother, "but there are also organizations like the Brotherhood of Steel. This particular chapter of the Brotherhood has dedicated itself to eradicating those who endeavor to destroy mankind. They have discovered a weapon so powerful that we may just be able to win the war against the Enclave yet. But it will take our research and your keen insight and ability with robotics to make that weapon work…"
Joules stood silently staring at his mother for what seemed an eternity as he attempted to weigh all of his alternatives. He looked at the faces gathered around him as they gazed upon him expectantly. The Elder's countenance conveyed the weight of his entire organization. In Sarah's face he found a hope for the future. Senior Scribe Rothchild still held the yearning for scientific discovery in his questioning eyes. And as he looked back at his mother, Joules felt only her unconditional love – no matter what path he chose to follow.
Amidst the silence, a peaceful serenity settled over the young man and he realized that he had already made his decision. As a relieved smile spread across his face he gave them his response.
"When do we get started?"