The ceremony that commemorated the formal signing of the Treaty of the Capital Alliance was an event attended by many. It was signed in the courtyard of the Citadel, where many of the walls remained in ruin, but plans were underway for reconstruction of the fortress. Elder Sarah Lyons personally read aloud the charter, which was dedicated to all those who had fallen in the battle against the Enclave and the charge to take back Project Purity. Penned with the assistance of the Brotherhood's most well-versed scribes and Harkness, the treaty formally united many of the communities and organizations within the Capital Wasteland.
The document was written in order to establish a safeguard for the future. It recognized the right of each community and organization pledged to the Capital Alliance to govern themselves and make free trade in the interest of mutual survival and cooperation. No group or community was to attempt to gain control over any of the others; all would be considered equal and representatives from each would form a joint council with the authority to influence the direction of the group as a whole. Each would pledge to help protect the other members of the Alliance in times of need in any way possible.
Many signatures were placed upon the large parchment. Sarah pledged her chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel to the Capital Alliance. The pledges she made in doing so set the precedent for all others who signed. In accordance with the new treaty, the Brotherhood would protect Project Purity and guard the caravans that distributed the water it created. They would continue to fight back the remnants of the Enclave and the super mutants, and in doing so, would make the wasteland a safer place. They would also cooperate with all others in the new Alliance and could recruit from them.
Reilly and her rangers were there as well, and each signed the document. They pledged to work alongside the Brotherhood as its elite mapmakers and forward scouts, helping to find new territory and seek out new settlements beyond the borders of the Capital Wasteland. Their first charter would be to completely map out the D.C. ruins and the metro tunnels, which would take time, but with support from the knights and paladins of the Brotherhood of Steel, the task was more than possible.
Sonora Cruz signed the document, pledging her people to its cause. The Regulators agreed to be recognized by the treaty as official lawmen and bounty hunters. Their authority would be backed by the treaty, as would their actions, provided that they did not forsake their own oaths to only follow the path of wasteland justice. In the coming weeks, many communities would find that the Regulators were a common sight, some of them even taking up permanent residence as sheriffs, much like Lucas Simms was for Megaton.
Representatives from Rivet City, Megaton, Meresti, Canterbury Commons, Vault 101, Evergreen Mills, Tenpenny Tower and several others came to sign as well. In accordance with the writing, these communities would be safe havens for any members of the Capital Alliance. The document also allowed for special considerations and citizenship to be made, as in the case of Fawkes and Uncle Leo, the latter of whom could not sign himself, and so Fawkes signed for them both. Representatives of the Outcasts were here as well, but they pledged only to keep to themselves, provided that they were left alone. Theirs was the only decidedly neutral party to sign the document.
Three Dog himself made an appearance at the signing of the document to witness the historical event unfold before his very eyes. He signed the document as well, pledging his full support and that of Galaxy News Radio to the cause. The merchants of Canterbury Commons, in their pledge, formed a new Trader's Guild that would allow the caravans to work together and share profits for the good of their communities. The guild would make donations to families in need and it would personally sponsor initiatives that would increase the stability of the infrastructure of its communities, such as dedicated plumbing and farming efforts.
The document also recognized that enemies still existed to the Capital Alliance and contained laws in regards to those who would oppose the freedom and safety of its people. Raiders, slavers, super mutants, and known criminal organizations such as Talon Company, Littlehorn & Associates and the Enclave were declared enemies and were to be treated as such. This was met with universal support from all involved. They were to be found, captured and tried if possible, executed if necessary, with reformation and joining the Capital Alliance only to be allowed after heavy consideration from all parties within.
The only two people who were not there to sign or have representatives, ironically enough, were the two who had made it all possible. All who took place in the ceremony felt the lack of their presence, as it had been they who had brought all of them together and had given them a cause to unite behind. Amata remained unconscious and unresponsive in the sub-levels of Project Purity, and Lloyd had left to find the man responsible for her injuries. As they were not there, at the very bottom of the document, Sarah personally wrote, "With thanks to Lloyd Freeman and Amata Almodovar, whose actions changed the Capital Wasteland forever; and to James Freeman and his beloved wife, whose vision will one day change the world."
The document was sealed in a protective field to ensure its survival and placed in the heart of the Citadel at the feet of a set of old power armor that was once worn by a great warrior from the Midwest with the flag of the East Coast Brotherhood hanging behind him.
An age of darkness that had lasted for two hundred years had ended with the signing of this document. Two hundred years of lawlessness, fear and death left by the atomic bombs.
Now was the time of the Capital Alliance.
Across the land, radios tuned into Galaxy News Radio's frequency to listen to the morning broadcast. Like most mornings recently, it took Three Dog a moment to begin. Normally he was full of energy, howling and the like, but the increasingly somber news had taken quite a bit out of him. The disk jockey leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily before flipping on the broadcast switch and leaning into the microphone.
"Hey there children, it's your old pal Three Dog, comin' to you live from the D.C. ruins." He paused briefly, looking over his notes from the people downstairs. "Three weeks, children. It's been three weeks since the Brotherhood led the charge against the Enclave and retook Project Purity. Three weeks since the waters of life have returned to us. Water caravans are carrying free water to every corner of the Capital Wasteland and for the first time in a long time, people aren't dying of thirst.
"I thought I'd start us off with some good news today, children. Reports from Megaton: the recent increase in water is allowing for more dedicated farming efforts. Combined with the technology of recently re-established population of Vault 101, the two communities are working together to establish a new reliable source of food. Between them both is the old town of Springvale, which the people of 101 are helping to rebuild. There's a school there that they've cleaned up and have returned it to working condition. A pair of teachers from Vault 101 is helping kids from across the wasteland learn.
"Rivet City reports that the damage done to their home during the Enclave's occupation has been completely fixed. The security force of Rivet City is coordinating with the Brotherhood in the distribution and protection of the water supply, augmenting their caravans with extra manpower, as the Brotherhood itself is currently stretched thin. Word from the Citadel, still in the process of being rebuilt, is that recruitment is at an all-time high. This will help replenish their numbers, something much needed, especially in their efforts to take down Talon Company, still held up in the northwest corner of the wasteland in Fort Bannister. Go get 'em, boys!
"News from Canterbury Commons: the new Trader's Guild has been established and the caravans have banded together in pursuit of common goals. According to the guild charter, caravans are provided with additional protection and supplies in exchange for sharing of profit in the interest of establishing Canterbury Commons as the trade hub of the Capital Wasteland. Cooperative efforts alongside Reilly's Rangers and the Brotherhood are allowing the merchants to reach places they've never been able to before.
"Helping them is the lack of slavers from Paradise Falls. Word is that the Enclave attacked and destroyed the slaver den. Their one good deed, I suppose. The rehabilitated raiders of Evergreen Mills are on the hunt for more punks and killers; there are still plenty of gangs preying on innocent people out there but their numbers are dwindling. Speaking of dwindling numbers, the super mutants that have haunted the dreams of everyone in the wasteland for years now are showing a marked decline in number, and they've stopped kidnapping people. They're still out there, so be careful.
"In other news, reports are coming in from the Grayditch area that the giant ants we've all had to deal with at some point are getting smaller and attacks on people have declined. On the opposite end of the spectrum, seems like the mirelurks have gotten increasingly more aggressive since the purifier was turned on. Maybe they don't like clean water? Who knows. Well, enough of that, let's get some commercials out of the way."
Three Dog paused to clear his throat and drink some water—Aqua Pura, straight from the purifier. He turned back to the mic and picked up a new sheet of material that the studio had been paid to read off.
"First thing's fist, an ad for help wanted: Assistant or assistants for field research on a survival guide. Need to be open to new and potentially dangerous ideas for the advancement of science and research. High tolerance of pain is helpful, but not necessary. Few questions asked and orders taken unquestionably preferred. To apply, see Moira Brown in Craterside Supply, Megaton.
"Next up: Are you tired of the same old routine? Looking to see new sights, explore new territory and live a life of action and adventure? Say no more and look to join Reilly's Rangers! Help protect the people of the wasteland and earn a few caps for your trouble! Join an elite unit of trained professionals who will always watch your back! See our new recruiting office in Rivet City for additional details.
"Now, news on the Brotherhood of Steel: Ever since taking the Enclave's base at Raven Rock, they have been mopping up remnants of the former government wherever they crop up. Intelligence indicates that the Enclave still has a number of facilities east of D.C. that the Brotherhood is preparing to mobilize against. Liberty Prime has been stomping and blasting non-stop, from the Potomac River to the canyons up north, with no end in sight. And just what is a 'communist' anyway?
"And finally children, I shouldn't put it off any longer: I'm afraid I don't have any news on a change for our girl Amata. I'll keep you posted, but for now, the only word coming out of Project Purity is 'silence.' Let's keep hopin' and prayin' that we'll get some good news soon. In the meantime… let's listen to some music. Might take our mind off things."
Crowley was the first. The bitter ghoul wasn't difficult to find; like most ghouls, he lived within Underworld. Crowley spent most of his days bitterly plotting revenge against those who had wronged him in the past and whom he saw as bigoted humans who had mistreated him ever since he had turned into a ghoul ten years ago and had left Rivet City. He had, in the past, offered to pay other ghouls and visitors to the community to "deal" with some of the bigots, but he had always been declined.
What nobody other than himself and a select few others (who happened to all be his targets) knew was that he possessed a very specific key, that when joined with four others that he did not possess, would unlock a great treasure hidden in the north. Crowley wanted those other four keys, but did not want to dirty his hands with the work required to hunt them down and get them himself.
Unfortunately, there was someone who was perfectly willing to do so, and wanted his key. As Crowley finished a cup of black coffee in a darkened corner of one of the Underworld cafés, a figure in a white suit, hat and sunglasses appeared in front of him, almost like a ghost conjured up by the wind. The man drew forth a pistol from his suit jacket with a long suppressor on the end of the barrel and pointed it at his head and fired.
The look of surprise was frozen on the ghoul's face as his bleak, grey eyes stared up at the ceiling with a bleeding bullet hole set between them. His assassin searched his pockets, rifling through them until he found what he was looking for and took Crowley's key. With that, the man vanished once more, as if he had never been there to begin with, and left the ghoul to rot.
The steel door to the holding cell opened, allowing Elder Lyons access. She stepped in, accompanied by two paladins clad in T-51b. The door behind them sealed shut. The room was lit by a dim florescent light on the ceiling, with the only other light coming from the window that led to the medical research division that was monitoring the captive's vitals. It was kept intentionally low so as to not disturb its only prisoner.
When Colonel Augustus Autumn was brought back to Raven Rock as a prisoner, he had initially required guards and his hands to be cuffed during interviews. Now, however, he was confined to a bed with various tubes running into his decrepit-looking arms and his nose. His skin, blotched and red, seemed stretched too thin over his bones. Most of his hair was gone and he required assistance to keep breathing.
"Elder," he croaked, his voice weak.
"Colonel." Sarah pulled up a chair and sat in it, taking a moment to straighten her blue robes. "I've come to give you bad news."
"I doubt that very much," he replied. "I've been waiting for the words you're about to say."
She cleared her throat before continuing. "You're going to die in a few hours. We did everything we could, but without the cooperation of Eden, we cannot replicate the serum that kept you alive."
"Tell me, how is the machine doing?" His lips managed to twist into a smile.
"He's difficult."
"The only thing that truly makes me happy in these last few hours is knowing that he's going to go on as your prisoner longer than I."
"Colonel, remnants of the Enclave are still attacking innocent people. You've told me during our many interviews that you wanted to help the people of the Capital Wasteland. By keeping information of Enclave fortresses from us, all you are doing is prolonging suffering."
"Appealing to my—" he began to cough violently, and after a few moments was able to finish, "my humanity, are you?"
"Colonel, we need to know where the Enclave is hiding. Records in this facility may have been erased, but soon we'll have our own vertibirds. We'll find the Enclave and wipe them out. We've gotten very good at it."
"Then you don't need me," he replied, shrugging a bit. "If you could, I'd like it for you to leave me alone with my thoughts. I've got some things I'd like to sort over."
Sarah sighed and shook her head. "Colonel, I know you feel that you failed in your mission, but keeping information from us like this only hurts more people. It's true that it isn't the Enclave that's running this land, it's us, and that means we're the best shot this land has now. We stand for much of what you believed in, you know that we do."
"But…" he interrupted her. "But…"
"But?"
"You're not the Enclave."
Sarah sat back. "No. No, we're not. It's not the Enclave's flag that's hanging in this facility anymore. And if you could just see that all we're trying to do is rebuild the country and make it safe for people again, just like your dream was, then you'd stop being a stubborn old fool and help us."
"You're wrong about two things," the old colonel told her. "The first is that it's not my dream. My dream was that the true American government would be reconstituted. Your… Alliance, is it? It won't last. The second thing is that I'm not a stubborn old fool, and I'm dying old fool, and I'll take my spite at losing to you to the grave with me."
Sarah was quiet as she listened to his words. When he was done and the coughing returned, she stood up and approached the door. "Have it your way, Colonel. I can't say that I'll miss you."
The dying man looked almost contemplative for a moment before he left her with his parting words, "Please give Freeman my regards."
Sarah almost left him with a retort, but decided against it. Regardless of which he was referring to—father or son—she wasn't going to dignify his words. She left the room and the door shut behind her, leaving the colonel alone in the dim light.
He turned and looked back up at the ceiling. He could feel himself losing his grip on the mortal coil by the second, draining away as his body failed. Deciding that he'd finally had enough after that last exchange, he reached with shaking hands at the tubes going into his arms and nostrils and yanked them out, though it took some effort on his part. Another fit of coughing immediately followed, and then he was still.
Autumn found that the light in the room grew dimmer and a coldness slowly crept into his limbs. He couldn't move his fingers anymore. As the agonizingly slow minutes crept by, time stood still for him. His breaths, labored as they were, passed his dried lips in long, slow cycles. His eyes blinked a few more brief times before they closed, and did not open again.
Within the depths of his mind, he felt himself slipping away into a place he did not know. In these last moments, he found himself reflecting on a moment of his life that had long since passed. He was standing on the edge of the oil rig far west, out in the Pacific Ocean. This was far before he had come to the Capital Wasteland, leading others to the call of President Eden, far before he had ever heard the name Freeman.
May 16th, 2241. This moment was special to him, because it was the moment he had decided to live. Earlier that day, he had opened fire on civilians when the steel cog to Vault 13 had opened. While his superiors commended his level-headedness on the mission, on the inside he was devastated at what he had been ordered to do. That evening, on the edge of the oil rig, he watched the sunset and looked down at the thrashing waters below. He had contemplated leaping into them.
But he didn't. He decided, on that day, that he was going to change the Enclave. That he was going to make the world a better place, no matter the cost. He learned the value of rising above concerns like civilian casualties and gained a glimpse of the bigger picture, and in doing so, pushed himself to rise through the ranks of the Enclave. When the oil rig had been destroyed and the Enclave forced to flee, it was he that had led them here, to this very facility where he would now die.
But despite all his trying, he had failed. He didn't feel like shifting the blame onto President Eden any longer; he knew that he should have disabled that damned computer from the first day he had arrived. But he hadn't. Now, the Enclave lied in ruins because of him and in his final moments, he found himself once more standing on the edge of the oil rig, staring down into the ocean. He could smell the salty breeze, feel the wind blowing through his hair again, and he saw the sunset one final time.
Only now, Autumn leaned forward and fell off the edge and let the sea swallow him, and all he knew was the black of the abyss.
Lucas Simms stood on one of the high walkways of Megaton, looking down at the town he had dedicated his life to protecting. He leaned on the rusty handrail, and tucked underneath one arm was a crutch, which he needed ever since he took the worse part of a grenade's shrapnel in his leg during the charge to Project Purity. The medics had been able to remove most of it, but he was a bit too past his prime for it to heal all the way. He still made the rounds around Megaton, though nowadays he hobbled more than he walked. He didn't mind it so much.
Megaton was safe. He didn't achieve this by himself. He had a lot of people to thank, but not all of them were around. As he looked down at the town square, not far from where the inactive atom bomb lay, he observed Jenny Stahl serving some of the townsfolk at the Brass Lantern. Some of them were new folk—from Vault 101. You could pick them out easy on account of their pale skin. They reminded Lucas of Lloyd and Amata when they had first come to town in what seemed like a lifetime ago.
Across the way, Billy Creel emerged from his home, followed by Maggie. She happily skipped ahead of him as Karen Schenzy—one of those new settlers from what was once Arefu—came out after him. They shared a kiss and he went to catch up to Maggie. Billy was a good man, and though Lucas hadn't spoken much with Karen, he got a good vibe from her. They made for a good couple. From what Lucas had heard in the saloon from Billy during one night of drinks, Karen had "a little Creel" on the way. Looked like Maggie was going to get a new little brother or sister.
"Bye, dad!" Harden said as he walked by Lucas. Lucas nodded at his boy as he went to join Maggie and Bryan at the gate with Billy. Every morning, he walked them to the school in Springvale to make sure they got there safely. Brotch, that teacher from 101 and his assistant—Lucas couldn't really remember her name—they were good folk, too. Awful nice of them to offer to teach the kids. Lucas had talked with Brotch for a while, learned a little bit more of what life had been like in the vault. He had bought the man a drink, a gift for helping to educate his son.
Lucas heard Sonora approach from behind. She joined him, looking down at the community. "Nice mornin', isn't it?" she asked.
"Every day gets a little bit better," he nodded. "You headin' out?"
"Always more to be done out there," she said with a half-hearted smile. "Headed back to HQ. I'll write when I can."
"And I'll see if I can read your chicken-scratch handwriting."
They shared a chuckle amongst friends, old Regulators who had seen much and done much together. Sonora didn't have many more passing words, and neither did Lucas. For people like them, a glance said more than words could convey, and she parted Megaton not long afterwards.
The old sheriff pushed off the rail and started walking with his crutch, taking a moment to adjust the rifle slung over his shoulder. As he passed by the main gate, he waved up to Stockholm, who didn't see due to his vigilant post of watching the lands outside for any danger to the town. Lucas passed by Walter, who was working on the pipes with two mechanics from the vault helping him. With the recent supplies of Aqua Pura coming in, the town's plumbing had never been cleaner. Lucas had even taken a shower yesterday morning, and felt cleaner than he had been in years.
He found his new deputy, Herman Gomez, near the Brass Lantern. Gomez and his wife Pepper were both also new residents from 101 and had moved into Lucy West's old home. Within a day of him coming into the town, the former security officer had volunteered to be Lucas' deputy, and so far, he was doing a fine job, though he still didn't quite know all the tricks to dealing with the more weathered townsfolk. Right now, he was looking at Confessor Cromwell, who as per the norm was ranting and raving about Atom near the bomb.
"Somethin' on your mind?" Lucas asked.
Herman shook his head as he looked at the shrieking man. "Isn't he disturbing the peace? Can't he stay in that church of his and shout in there?"
"You'll get used to him. How's the wife settling in?"
"Eh, she's not quite up to coming outside the new house yet, but she'll warm up to the town." Herman kept looking at Cromwell and shaking his head.
Lucas nodded and sat on one of the stools at the diner. Jenny turned to him and said, "Morning, Sheriff. The usual?"
He nodded and turned back to Herman. "If he's botherin' you that much, you can always send him back inside. He'll listen."
"Nah, I'll let him be. Not like him or his church are really harming anyone."
Herman nodded and walked off, occasionally shooting another glance at the man. Lucas drowned out the man's ravings like he had done for years and focused instead on his stew. As he ate, he overheard two of the vault dwellers at the diner talking to each other.
"So, nothing?"
"No, she's still unconscious at that place the water is coming from."
"Damn. I know her father is trying to step up and still be the leader and all, but ever since the vault opened, he hasn't been the same."
"Well, he's lost his power. A quarter of the vault has left and others are making plans to leave. He doesn't really have the authority anymore to say what people can and cannot take—you know I heard that Stanley took a generator and left for… what's that place down south? The boat?"
"Rivet City."
"Right, I heard he took a generator and a team to go there and make a living. He even took that robot of his with'im."
"Well, good luck to him, I suppose. I hope Amata wakes up soon. I heard that Allen Mack is trying to take control of the vault and shut the doors."
"Right. Like anybody would follow that asshole."
Lucas didn't really listen to the rest of the conversation. His mind had drifted south, to Project Purity, where he had helped combat the Enclave. He remembered watching the massive pipes spouting out clean water into the tidal basin, and the celebration that followed, and the quiet that followed that as news of Amata's injuries had filtered outside.
Of course, everyone in the wasteland knew who it was by now: Burke. He remembered the day that those two had taken him down and brought him to justice, only for him to be rescued by his mercs and escape. He had sent his Talon Company goons after the pair numerous times, but what he had done at Project Purity was downright cowardly.
Lucas wished he had shot the man that day and put an end to it all. He pictured it neatly: one right between his eyes, and another in the chest for good measure. But for all the picturing he could do, it didn't change the fact that Burke had shot a friend of his, a hero, in the back and escaped to laugh about it. For him, a former Regulator and a lawman, it made him sick to his stomach.
Jenny got his attention with a concerned question. "Sheriff? Aren't you going to eat?"
Lucas looked down at the stew. "No. I suddenly lost my appetite."
He placed a few caps on the table and hobbled off with his crutch. He took a moment to wipe the bottom of his nose which felt a little bit runny. He looked at his hand and saw blood. Taking out a white rag, he wiped his nose clean of the blood. It hadn't been the first nosebleed in a while; he'd been getting them rather frequently.
In fact, this was his second one today.
Ted Strayer was an aimless wanderer. He seemed eternally disinterested in everything and never made conversation with anyone. For the last few months, his home had been Rivet City. Sometimes he would drink at the Muddy Rudder, or wander around the flight deck. Every night, he'd sleep in the common room alongside others. He didn't want to sleep there forever, but it was good enough until he figured out where he was going to go next. Rivet City would do for now, but given how unmotivated and generally lazy the man was, he wasn't likely to find either employment or a new place to live.
One day, as he was making the usual rounds of aimlessly wandering, a man he had never seen before stopped him. He was dressed in a white suit with a matching hat and sunglasses. He asked Ted a series of odd questions about his late father, particularly about the jobs he used to pull when the man had thought he could cut it as an adventurer or mercenary, right up until he got shot and decided he didn't like that kind of life. Ted answered his questions to the best of his ability and the stranger thanked him. As Ted turned to leave, he felt a brief pain in his back right before he fell down dead, shot in the spine with a silenced pistol.
The man searched Ted's body for a key and when he found it, he activated a device on his wrist and vanished. The cloaking device allowed him to slip right by the security guard that came around the corner and discovered Ted's body. The city's security force was put on high alert, but the murderer was already long gone, having claimed his prize.
"I'm sorry, but there's not much more I can do."
Harkness sat across from Elder Lyons in a secure room in Raven Rock, in which no ears could hear. It was only her and him, speaking under the strictest of confidence. Sarah was one of the few people Lloyd had entrusted with the information of Harkness' true identity as a synthetic lifeform, and ever since assuming command of the facility, she had been using him to great effect.
In particular, he had been vital in the restoration of the facility's computers and disassembling the code of the presidential AI, John Henry Eden.
"There's nothing more we can learn from him?"
"No. Eden took everything with him; files, programs, mountains of information. What he couldn't delete, he corrupted. All of the computers in this facility are back up and running, but all of the information on the Enclave's technology, their records of operation, medical knowledge—everything is gone and I can't get it back. The ZAX supercomputer itself had useful information, but not much. Eden would rather have seen himself destroyed than help us in any way."
Sarah sat back and let out a heavy sigh. "Just like Colonel Autumn. They may have turned to fighting each other in the end, but they had more in common than they would have admitted."
Harkness continued. "I have completely replicated every piece of information that I encountered while I was in the facility before the AI was shut down, and the complete technical specifications on the vertibirds that I read while we flew to the Citadel, but even with all of that, I cannot say for certain where the Enclave's secondary command is that they are attacking us from. My best guess puts it somewhere out east, but I cannot pinpoint it."
"And so far, none of the captives either know or are willing to give it up. So, until we can find their base, we maintain control and security of the Capital Wasteland, the water caravans and this facility, and in the meantime we'll need to work on reverse-engineering the Enclave's technology the old-fashioned way," Sarah replied.
"I've already uploaded all of my scans of their captured equipment. Your technicians have a significant head start, but they've still got their work cut out for them."
"And James?"
Harkness shook his head. "I've given your medics all I can give them on his current condition."
Sarah rubbed her eyes in frustration. "I'll be the one to tell Lloyd."
"In person?"
"Wouldn't be right to tell him over the radio. I'll talk to him when he reports in from his assignment."
"Whenever he comes back from his manhunt, you mean."
"Call it what you like. And what about you? How long can we count on you to be here?"
"Depends on whether or not you'll let me leave," he said with a raised eyebrow.
Sarah looked surprised. "I'd never pretend to have you shackled here. You're useful—at this stage, more useful than any of my scribes can be. It's not that they're useless, but they're not nearly as experienced with advanced technology like you are. But you're also afforded rights as a human being, and even if the argument can be made that you aren't human, you helped us at Project Purity and you've done far more than that for us here at this base, so you deserve to be treated like a normal human being."
"I appreciate that, Sarah." Harkness placed his hands together as he leaned over the table. "I'm aware of your plans to start producing more weapons, armor and vertibirds and train pilots for them. I could stay here and help you with this, but I have another suggestion."
"Go on."
"I'll stick around long enough to train several pilots. I need you to pick out the best and brightest candidates for this. We still have some of the Enclave pilots in captivity—we'll offer them a deal in exchange for assisting me."
"You'd let them fly?" Sarah asked skeptically.
"No. But they can help me teach the class. Given enough time, perhaps they'll reform, but that's another subject entirely. The point is, I teach enough pilots who can train others as co-pilots. I'll also help train your scribes and technicians in the maintenance and repair of the vertibirds, but once I do this, I leave."
"Where do you plan on going?"
"The only way this Alliance is going to hold is if the Brotherhood can successfully defend the wasteland and guard the caravans. You'll need every asset you can get your hands on. I know a place that has the kind of data the computers here need. Communications, weapons and armor systems, transportation, mass production. The kind of information that, in the right hands, can change the world for the better."
"Where?"
"Where I was built: the Commonwealth. I swore I would never return to that place, but I'll travel there and get the information this facility needs and smuggle it back in my brain."
"You have enemies there?" she asked.
"I do. But my main advantage is that they still don't know who I am or what I look like."
"But what if something goes wrong? What if they find out who you are? I can't ask you to risk yourself like that."
"If that happens, I'll contact you. I know the communication codes for this base. I'll send coordinates and fill you in on the situation."
Sarah was silent for a moment as she looked into the android's green eyes. "Harkness, I can't help but think that there's something more to this. If you had said that you didn't want to help us because you were tired of it, I'd understand, because that's a human thing to do. But it's also human nature to seek revenge. Trust me, I know. So tell me, what are you really hoping to accomplish there?"
Normally Harkness was quick with a reply, owing to how fast he could process information. Now, however, he was quiet, apparently measuring his response. "Part of it is that I feel I owe Lloyd and Amata and want help their friends, namely you. Helping you helps this land, which in turn helps the people of Vault 101 and others. So, there is more than a bit of investment on my end when it comes to that. But you're right, there's something more to it. Ever since having lived life as a man, and coming to terms with my synthetic nature, I have harbored a strange desire to liberate my fellow androids from the Institute. Perhaps it's Lloyd's nature rubbing off on me."
"So, there it is, then," she said. "You mean to start a synthetic revolution at the Commonwealth."
"I do."
"But what could that mean in the long run? Man fighting against machines? Do you mean to make more of your kind once you learn how?"
"No," he quickly cut her off. "No, I don't plan on making more androids. It's not in my interests to create a race superior to men, because I don't think I am superior. There are advantages, yes, but there is something fundamentally… human, for lack of a better term, that I do not possess. But the androids at the Institute don't deserve the life they have been given. You don't know what it's like there, but I do. It's why I left, and it's why I want to return."
"And once the Institute is toppled, then what?"
"Then, I help the androids learn the things that I have learned and I return here to help you again."
"You make it sound simple," Sarah said with a low whistle. "Something tells me this Institute won't take too kindly to your intentions."
"I don't expect them to. But I've seen right, and I've seen wrong, and I know that going there and freeing the other androids is the right thing to do."
"And what about Lucy?"
"I still have to talk it over with her."
"Well, good luck with that. I'll pick out the pilot candidates and you let me know when the classes can begin."
"I can begin this evening."
"Eager to get started?"
"Eager to get going."
Workers, civilian and soldier alike, moved about the Citadel's walls, carrying stone, metal, wood and whatever they could find to reinforce it. Several of the people helping were from Rivet City, and a surprisingly high number were made up of members of the Meresti Family. The work to repair the former Pentagon was going to take time, but it the workers were in high spirits, especially since they were so close to the new source of Aqua Pura. And despite the Citadel's rather poor condition, nowhere in the Capital Wasteland felt safer due to Liberty Prime standing vigil nearby.
The massive machine was back at the Citadel for repairs after another week of stomping through Enclave camps and super mutants. Several scribes buzzed about its base, overseen by Scott Wollinski, newly-inducted scribe of the Brotherhood of Steel and proctor of its newest order, the Order of the Cog. As its proctor, his responsibilities were to manage the Brotherhood's robots and various automata.
It was also his responsibility to keep Liberty Prime up and running. By now, he knew the titan inside and out and could identify a problem inside of it through simple observation of its walk cycle. As he guided and trained his scribes in its maintenance, he in turn was overseen by Star Paladin Cross, who was leading the efforts in the reconstruction of the Citadel. With the ARM, she broke away debris or hammered chunks of stone into place. A young boy, one of the Family, approached her with a bottle of water.
"Thank you," Cross said with a smile as she took it. She eagerly drank it, feeling the cool water run down her dry throat. It felt like it had been years since she had drank water so clean and pure.
A figure approached from behind. Vance, the mysterious and aloof patriarch of the Family, stood next to her. "Work is going well, yes?"
"It is," she replied, wiping her mouth on the back of her mechanical hand. "The Brotherhood appreciates your assistance."
"We're all children of the wasteland," Vance offered, looking around at his Family as they worked alongside the knights, paladins and other civilians. "In the end, we cannot afford to not help each other. We see that now. Though, I must wonder at the reason why your black and red-armored friends are not here to help."
"The Outcasts," Cross corrected him. "While there has been no outward hostility from them since the march on Project Purity, the Brotherhood has not spoken with them."
"Time may change it yet," Vance said. "I once believed that my Family would forever remain outcasts, and now we stand with the veritable knights in shining armor."
"As you said, we are all children of the wasteland," Cross replied. "When will you and your people return to the north?"
"When the Citadel's walls stand again. That is my vow."
Vance gave her a look and an odd smile before moving to rejoin his people and help them carry debris out of the bailey. The star paladin watched him go with a slightly amused but curious look on her face as she too once more took up her super sledge and got back to work.
Three mercs from Talon Company dug through a large pile of burnt wreckage. Charred support beams, blackened liquor bottles and ashes were moved and kicked aside as they searched.
"This is bullshit," one of them said. "We shouldn't be doing this kind of work. Not when half of the wasteland is looking to come down on our heads."
"You know the boss will kill us if we don't find it," the group's leader said. "Now shut up and keep digging."
"I think I found it!" one of them suddenly said. The other two ran over as they looked at a burnt body.
"God, that smell," the first one said, holding his nose.
"Well, go on, search it already!" the second told the third.
He looked through the remains, searching its burnt pockets and sifting through the piles of ash around its body. After a moment, he felt something and held up a key.
The second one laughed. "Hah! And you said we'd never find it! Boy, wait 'til the boss hears about this! I smell a fat, juicy bonus in our pay today, boys!"
What they received instead were three bullets, one each, to the back of the skull. Nearby, a man appeared out of thin air and approached the new corpses and picked up the key, adding it to his growing collection.
Only one key remained, and it was the most remote. The white-suited man vanished once again and left the bodies behind.
Though it was difficult to do with his large hands, Fawkes gently dusted off another old display. Beneath the glass were a few books that had managed to remain perfectly preserved. "Bring the light… here!" he called out.
Nearby, Charon turned around and brought the electrical lantern over to the super mutant. Behind him, Uncle Leo stood patiently as Fawkes squinted to read the covers of the books. "The Odyssey… The Iliad… We are lucky to find them like this…"
"They any good?" Charon asked.
"Very good," Fawkes replied as he broke the glass with his fist. Charon stepped next to him and picked the books up and placed them into the secure container they had acquired from Underworld.
"I would very much like… to have them read to me…" Uncle Leo spoke up. The other super mutant had been stripped of the armor and harnesses that the Enclave had forced upon him, and his arms now ended in two stumps instead of the blades they had surgically attached to his wrists.
"That I can do!" Fawkes said with a wide, yellow smile. He looked around at the hall they were in. "This place has been generous to us…"
They were currently standing in the older, abandoned sections of the Museum of Natural History where the ghouls of Underworld did not go. Lost remnants of knowledge in the form of books, relics and plaques would help to reveal much of pre-war history. Fawkes and Uncle Leo had assisted the Brotherhood of Steel in scouring the Arlington Library of any useful remaining texts. Scribe Yearling, the one sponsoring the initiative, was very appreciative of the super mutants and their help.
Now they were searching through the ancient museums of the Maul, and with Underworld so near, they had enlisted the help of Charon. The tall ghoul himself did not have much else to do ever since Lloyd had left on his search. As they searched through the burnt sections of the museum, he held onto the light and kept an eye out for trouble. This place was known for its feral ghouls. While they would leave him alone, they wouldn't do the same for his super mutant companions.
They moved into a section that was dedicated to the Civil War. Old mannequins in rotting uniforms stood like statues alongside rusted cannons and fake horses. Fawkes talked along the way, relating historical facts he had learned during his time of isolation. Neither of them minded and it helped to keep his mind sharp, as he had forgotten some of the details. As they walked, they collected any useful items they could that could prove useful or educational.
Fawkes and Uncle Leo, since the march on Project Purity, were known throughout the land, and though they made people uncomfortable, they were welcome in any community. This was helpful, as it meant that less people would try to kill them on sight. It also allowed them to be useful in a number of other ways, such as helping to guard water and merchant caravans and delivering books to the newly opened Springvale School. They would bring the books to the Brotherhood first so that their scribes could copy them and then they would personally deliver them around to the various communities they would visit.
Uncle Leo in particular loved the more philosophical books and considered them to be great treasures. Fawkes had a particular fondness for all things historical, and when the two went hand-in-hand, both super mutants had much to speak about.
As they paused to look at a large, mostly-rotten painting of Abraham Lincoln, Charon turned to Fawkes and asked, "Why do you care so much about history?"
The super mutant gave the ghoul a curious look. "There was much beauty, in the old world… Everything around us, especially this building… was built for a reason. This place… it used to be the capital city of a great nation… and anything in its ashes that remains is worth preserving… if we ever hope to make progress again."
Charon thought about that for a moment. "I never saw any real point to learning about history. Whatever humans built, it obviously wasn't worth keeping, because they blew it all up. Even us, the three of us, we're products of human mistakes, not human progress."
Uncle Leo replied then. "We three may not be fully human any longer… on the outside… but within us still lies the soul… and within the soul lies a desire… to not see everything be lost."
Fawkes nodded. "I learn about history because I desire to share it with others… those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."
Charon didn't reply. Uncle Leo asked, "Have you still any doubt? Surely you care about the future?"
"I can't," he said, shocking them both. "I can't care about a future I won't be a part of. I don't care about a past that I had nothing to do with. Whatever I learn about history will all be lost when I die or when I turn feral and lose my mind."
Fawkes closed his eyes. "I understand… sometimes, I too feel the better parts of me… slipping away, and I know that my time is limited… But I never found it to be an excuse not to care."
Uncle Leo nodded his head vigorously. "We, too, face the same problem, Charon… In time, we both will grow to the size of behemoths… and know nothing but blind rage."
"Then all three of us are doomed," Charon said with little emotion. "So I still don't see any reason to care."
"But that's exactly why I care," Fawkes said, lifting up another book. "Because our time is limited… that makes it all the more special… to make every bit of it count!"
"And in the end," Uncle Leo added, "we will find peace."
Charon was silent as he held onto the light.
At the mouth of the canyon that led to Evergreen Mills, Jarrod and several of his men were meeting with the trade caravan. They negotiated with offerings of manpower and ammunition. Jericho had worked out a deal with the new Trader's Guild in Canterbury Commons to lend men to help guard the caravans, as some new gangs had cropped up in the wastes recently looking to cash in on the new source of water.
Jericho wasn't about to let anyone take advantage of Lloyd's mother's dream to have free water for everyone.
Jarrod and his men were busy most days hunting down other raiders and making it clear that things were changing. Anyone who looked to attack the trade caravans would have Evergreen Mills come down on them without mercy. Within just a few short weeks, they had quickly gained a reputation of being "raiders of raiders" who exclusively preyed on those who prey on others. Those who didn't accept the change soon steered clear of Evergreen Mills.
Three gangs had already been wiped out by Jarrod and his men. Jericho didn't leave the mills much ever since his injury, but Jarrod returned every night and brought him up to speed on what they had accomplished. Sometimes, he had captives. Jericho had little time nor patience for anyone who wasn't looking to join up, and had made a few examples of the more stubborn ones already, who now hung from the higher portions of the canyon.
On this day, Jarrod made trade for some more food: an entire brahmin. The two-headed bovine was expensive, but it would be well worth it once they got it cooking over the fire. Two of his men led it back into the canyon as he finished counting the caps needed to pay for it. A woman who worked for him took her shift on the caravan, replacing a man who had been guarding it for a full round-trip.
Jarrod gave the man a pat on the shoulder and handed him a bag of caps—a little extra for doing a good job. As they walked back towards the foundry, a woman who had been walking with the caravan started following them. He looked at her and saw that she was a little shorter than average, with a fancy-looking red suit and half of her head shaven clean. A Chinese longsword was sheathed at her hip.
"Who is that?" he asked his man.
"Don't know. Picked her up 'round north. Doesn't talk much, but when we was attacked by some scorpions, she hacked one up with that blade 'a hers."
Jarrod's eyes narrowed as they walked back inside. The sun was setting and the people of Evergreen Mills were preparing a feast. They hadn't had a good celebration in quite a while, and their recent successful raid against an upstart gang, the Demon Dogs, was cause enough. A large fire pit was being built and people were carrying all kinds of drinks and food up from the bazaar below the old factory. The brahmin was led over to the pens and tied up until the slaughterer came by to ready it for cooking.
As the night came on, the festivities got into full swing. The meat was placed over the fire and soon all were enjoying fresh steak. Booze and water flowed freely as drums beat while the warriors danced. The fires grew higher and higher as they added more wood. Jarrod stood atop a metal podium, top dog of Evergreen Mills. He watched his people celebrate their latest victory.
The doors to the factory opened as Jericho emerged and all grew quiet. The old raider walked through the crowd and approached his son, climbing up on the stand along with him. Everyone looked up to listen to him speak, because they knew that he only came outside during celebrations when he wanted to talk.
Jericho looked at his son again before facing the crowd. He held up a bottle of water.
"You've all been doin' good, you know that?" he asked, at which he got a few motivated cries. "Who here is thirsty, huh?"
A few small chuckles came from the crowd, but Jericho shook his head. "No, no, you're not hearin' me. Who here is thirsty?" Everyone was quiet. "Better question then: who here has nearly starved to death before? Who's almost died of thirst?"
Some of them shouted as Jericho held up the Aqua Pura. "Well you're not starving now!" At that, all of them threw hands into the air and cheered. "We helped get this water! We helped push back the bastards who would've just as soon shot us as look at us! And now, none of us are gonna go thirsty ever again!"
Another wave of rallying cries followed him. Jericho took a swig of the water and handed it to Jarrod as the sound died down. "But there are still assholes out there who want it all for themselves, yeah? People who would keep it from kids, and families, and people who need it, damnit. Listen up. There is no 'I' anymore. There's only 'we.' And that's not just us here in Evergreen Mills; we're in the Alliance now! That means we're part of somethin' bigger than all of us and it's our responsibility to help protect it, and that means killin' those assholes who would take our water!"
The crowd cheered once more, some of them even firing off their weapons harmlessly into the walls of the canyon. Jericho had to shout over them to be heard. "We fought and won today, and we'll fight and win tomorrow, too! And nobody but nobody is ever gonna go thirsty again, not if I have anything to say about it, you hear me?"
The drums picked up again as Jericho turned away from the crowd, coughing into his hand. Jarrod helped him down the platform as the party picked back up again. Jericho looked at his hand and saw blood that he had coughed up.
"Ah, shit… I need a fuckin' smoke," he muttered.
Jarrod took out a pack for his father and helped him light it. "You gonna be alright, pop?"
"Ain't dead yet," he said as he walked back towards the factory.
Jarrod watched him go, concerned. He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw that new girl wrapping herself around his arm.
"Your old man gives one hell of a speech," she said with a smile, trailing a delicate finger up his cheek.
"Saw you earlier," Jarrod said. "What's your deal, chick?"
"I'm just along for the ride," she said with a smile, softly bringing her leg around his. "Heard this place was full of movers n' shakers. Wanted to get in on the action."
"You came to the right place, alright," he put an arm around her shoulder. "You want a drink?"
"More than that," she winked, holding up a bottle of vodka. "I wanna get to know the top dog."
Jarrod smirked. "Might be a bit out of your league, but I heard from my man that you know how to handle a sword. Think you can keep up?"
She handed him the bottle as the fires from the pit danced in her eyes. He took a swig as she smiled. "You don't know the first thing, lover…"
Jarrod chuckled as he finished his drink. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Clover. It's hot out here," she made an exaggerated fan motion with her hand. "Isn't there somewhere we could cool off?"
"Depends… might get even hotter."
She licked her lips. "Good."
Dave was mayor. Dave was king. Dave was president. Dave was emperor. In the Republic of Dave, Dave was all of these things and more. Though he had taken his land from Tom, at the time when it was known as the Kingdom of Tom, and he had instituted the democratic procedure (thus making it a republic instead) there was little question of his absolute authority as its mayor-king-president-emperor and Supreme Commander for life.
The Republic of Dave was tucked into the most northeastern reaches of what could still be called the Capital Wasteland. With his two wives and six children, the republic was flourishing thanks to trade from Canterbury Commons. Dave, though he was open to trade with them, was not willing to accept any kind of authority other than his own, and thus declined to be any part of this so-called Trader's Guild or Alliance. No, he had a country to run! Never mind that the 'country' was about fifty square meters of fenced-in territory, it was his sovereign territory and his alone!
Dave kept council with no one, not even his two wives or his eldest son Bob, the Second-Commander of the Army of Dave. Over the past few months, his largest concern was that his republic simply wasn't growing large enough. He had personally amended the nation's laws to enable him to marry the only two eligible women and ban the rest of the men (other than his male descendants) but his wives weren't producing children fast enough and people were not immigrating into his empire.
So, how to solve this problem? Dave had spent many hours pondering it and decided that the most logical thing to do, given the post-apocalyptic state of the lands around him, for the betterment of humankind and the secured future safety and posterity of the Republic of Dave, he would take his eldest daughter Shawna as his third wife. This would doubtless be met with resistance from his first two wives, but he would simply need to amend the law to allow it and then they would have no legal grounds on which to object.
He had spent some time drafting up this new law, which allowed for "conditional incest" to be allowed by the governor-comptroller, which of course was Dave. Shawna was a very anxious and high-strung girl, but dearly loved her father and was the curator of the Museum of Dave. He wouldn't have much trouble convincing her to accept her new position as his third wife, as she was always very devoted to him. She was a good girl, pure and virginal. He found himself excited by the prospect of taking on a third wife (daughter though she may be) and couldn't help but wonder about doing the same with his other three daughters as well once they were of age.
Fortunately for Shawna and the other residents of the Republic of Dave, in particular his three other daughters, Dave did not finish the draft on this new law, as he suddenly found himself shot in the head. His body was searched thoroughly for a key, the final in the set. His assassin let himself out just as he had let himself in: unseen by all.
Butch pounded back another drink. He sloshed the whiskey around in his mouth as he sat at the bar with his shoulders slumped. His normally stylish hair hung down in large bangs over his sweaty forehead. The bar, the Muddy Rudder, wasn't particularly clean, being in the lower deck of Rivet City, but he didn't really notice his surroundings.
He stared at the half-full bottle in front of him in a daze. Everything seemed as though a blur to him—especially his memories of the last few weeks. With the Enclave's drugs fully filtered out of his system, he was forced to stand trial in front of a bunch of soldiers in power armor. They told him that he was guilty of murder and conspiracy against them. He could hardly remember any of his time while he had been working for the Enclave; it all just faded from him.
Some of the knights were advocating the death penalty and that was what had made Butch very frightened. It was only the timely intervention and testimony of Lloyd that had saved his life. Butch didn't really know all of the details, or how Lloyd's words had come to carry such weight, but he was spared, under the argument that he hadn't really been in control of his actions when he had committed his crimes. The Brotherhood allowed this, but Butch was now outcast from the Vault and he hadn't seen Lloyd since.
And now here he was, a drunk with hardly any money, scraping by as a bouncer in this dingy bar in a half-sunk ship with hardly anything to his name other than his jumpsuit and his jacket. The owner, Belle Bonny, and the other bouncer, Brock, didn't like him very much. It was decided that his crimes wouldn't be made publically known, so that he wouldn't get lynched wherever he went, but even with that it seemed like nobody could stand to be around Butch. It might have had to do with the fact that he was constantly drunk and often belligerent.
He could see that Brock was eying him up again, probably waiting for Butch to prove that he was too drunk to stay in the bar. Butch took another drink and sighed as someone else walked up to the bar and placed a small stack of caps on the countertop.
"I need a beer, Belle, and keep 'em coming!" The girl brushed aside a few strands of raven-black hair as the barkeep went to fetch her drink from the fridge.
Butch, his head buried in his arms on the bar, turned to look at her. She wore forest green urban combat armor and an SMG with custom-made modifications was holstered at her side. Once she got ahold of her drink she pounded back half of it in one swig and then looked at him.
"Damn, you look like shit," she laughed.
"Yeah, I… I'ma… Jus' a bit outta…" His voice trailed off and ended in a loud burp.
"Nice," she said with a cocked eyebrow. "Nothing more attractive in a man than that."
Butch sat up and brushed his greasy hair backwards and out of his eyes. A few of the strands stuck straight up into the air from the gel he had worn. "Hey, you, you, you don't know the halfa it. Ever hear about the Tunnel Shmakes?"
"The what?"
"Tunnel… Snakes…" he said, taking time to not slur. "We were the baddest buncha dudes in the vault!"
Now she was interested. "Vault, eh? That explains the jumpsuit. Seen some of you around."
"Vault 101! What a shithole that place was," he laughed. "Glad to be outta there, lemme tell ya… That place couldn't even handle me."
He turned around to show her his jacket and fell off his barstool. She laughed and moved to help him up to his feet.
"That's it, I'm calling it," Belle said. "You're outta here for the night. Fork up the caps to pay for the drink."
Butch reached into his pockets and only pulled out lint. "Uh… put it on my tab?" Butch asked. Brock cracked his knuckles and got off the wall.
"Woah, woah, I got this," the girl who was now supporting Butch said. "Belle, my caps will cover his drinks."
"Don't do that, Sydney," Belle advised. "That loser's nothing but dead weight. Ain't worth the caps."
"Tunnel Snakes rule!" Butch shouted, kicking a leg up in the air.
"Let me worry about that," Sydney said with a smile. "I got a way he can repay me for the caps. Come on you," she said as she pulled him to the stairway. "I got a treasure to hunt and you're coming with me."
Butch stopped her at the stairs. "Wait… what? I don… I don't even know your name, babe…"
"Sydney," she said again. "And you are?"
"Butch… Nice to—"
His face suddenly bloated up as his cheeks filled with vomit. Sydney reacted quickly and helped him aim in the corner.
"Aw, damn it all!" Brock said, knowing he'd have to clean it up.
Sydney tossed him a few caps and apologized for the mess, quickly dragging Butch out of there. When she had gone into the bar looking for a potential partner on her new job, she hadn't quite expected to find this, but she had already made up her mind to have him help her.
If nothing else, he'd make a good bullet shield for when they ran into super mutants.
At the mouth of the Potomac River, where it joined the greater ocean, an old steamboat was docked. The Duchess Gambit, as it was known, was a beautiful ship in its prime. It had been brought back to working condition and for a very reasonable fee, its captain, an explorer and entrepreneur known as Tobar, would ferry anyone to anywhere along the east coast. Tobar was a shrewd businessman and a merchant at heart, the kind of man who only heard words when they were backed by money.
On a grey day, four weeks after Project Purity's success, he was approached by a lone woman who identified herself as Madison Li, a scientist, who wanted nothing more than to get out of the Capital Wasteland. She had the caps to buy her passage and Tobar was pleased to have her on board.
"Where to, then?" he asked.
Having originally travelled from the west, she didn't know anywhere else. "I don't know. Anywhere but here."
Tobar adjusted his lucky trading cap. "Well, I know a place up north called the Commonwealth. I hear it's a haven for scientists like you."
At that, she found herself interested in learning more. "That sounds like a good place to start."
"To the Commonwealth it is, then," he said with a smile, heading to turn the ships' steam engines on. "It'll be quite a trip. Hope you like punga fruit, because I don't have much else."
Dr. Li watched the coastline of the Capital Wasteland disappear. One of the last things she saw was Project Purity, where her team had chosen to remain. It was far too painful and carried too many bad memories for her to bear, however, and so she turned from the sight and watched the water as the boat chugged along and took her away past Rivet City and beyond.
Harkness and Lucy stood on the flight deck of Rivet City. He had invited her up to the deck for a talk, and had told her of his intentions to return to the Commonwealth. Her reaction was not entirely unanticipated by the android, but the firmness in her voice surprised him.
"Well, you're not going anywhere without me, and that's final."
"Lucy, the Commonwealth is very far away. It's a dangerous journey. And with your hurt leg, I can't recommend that you come with me."
"I don't care what you recommend," she said, poking him in the chest. "You're not leaving without me, Christopher Harkness. We finally have a chance to relax after this whole Enclave mess and the first thing you want to do is head back to the place you originally ran away from?"
"I have to go."
"And I'm coming with you."
"Absolutely not," he told her. "Lucy, you don't know how dangerous it is. I can cover more distance by myself and return sooner. I'd have to carry you all the way there."
"That doesn't sound so bad," she replied nonchalantly.
"Lucy, the Institute and its android hunters will come after me. I can't risk you being hurt there. Here, with the Brotherhood and the Alliance, you'll be safe."
She crossed her arms and was quiet as she looked him the eye. "It's not fair, Christopher."
"I know that it must seem like an inconvenience, but—"
"An inconvenience!" she interrupted him. "An inconvenience, he says! You know, sometimes I really do wonder if you can comprehend human emotion."
He let his arms rest at his sides. "I know that I love you," he told her, which calmed her down a bit. "I know that if anything were ever to happen to you, I'd be devastated. I don't even want to think about what I would do then, Lucy." He reached up to her shoulders and pulled her close. "I know that what I feel is real, and I don't want to lose it."
Closing her eyes and burying her face in his chest, she nodded. "I know... I just... I feel like since I met you, we've had so little time to just rest, you know? To be together. To be, I don't know, normal."
"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm an android. By definition, our relationship is abnormal."
She managed to giggle a bit. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But you better come back to me, you understand?"
"Nothing motivates me more," he told her, leaning down to kiss her. When he broke away, he whispered, "I still have some time. I'm going to spend as much of it as I can with you, I promise."
"Starting tonight?" she asked. He nodded and picked her up, making her grab hold of his neck tightly.
"Tonight." He carried her to the door that led to the stairwell and brought her back inside.
Vance led his people home, to Meresti. They had accomplished much in helping to rebuild the Citadel and still had much to learn and share with the Brotherhood, but Vance had to admit that he missed his wife and the rest of his Family. As they walked north along the Potomac River towards what had once been Arefu, he stopped briefly while the others rested. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he surveyed the lands around him for danger, but saw none.
"Vance?" Justin got his attention as the younger fellow walked up. "Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure... I trust my senses, but I don't see anything. I don't feel anything anymore, either..."
"What did it feel like?" Justin asked, knowing full well that he could trust his leader's word on anything, especially if there was danger nearby.
Vance did not say anything. The feeling was gone. He placed a hand on Justin's shoulder and smiled as they both walked back to the camp. For a moment, Vance thought he had sensed a dreadfully familiar creature, but it was likely just some animal or mutant off in the distance. It could have simply been his wits getting the better of him, making him see things that weren't there. It wasn't the first time he had been wrong, after all.
And besides, he had personally ensured that there weren't any more of Blackwell's vampiric spawn left in the wasteland.
He was sure of it.
Adams Air Force Base. Prior to the Great War, it had been the center of Strategic Air Command. Now, it was the new rallying location and new primary base of operations for the Enclave. It was here that the mobile crawler was situated and where the remaining command staff, soldiers, vertibirds and researchers had relocated to. The base itself was to the east of the capital and currently hidden from their enemies. In the bridge of the mobile crawler, an officer known as Captain Welker had taken charge.
Welker was organizing an offensive that would strike back at the capital, in particular Project Purity. They still had a significant technological advantage in every respect but one: Liberty Prime. Currently, they had no means to combat the threat, but that was rapidly changing. As they made preparations to reactivate their new weapon, Captain Welker swore to all the assembled officers that they would avenge the deaths of their leaders, soldiers and their wounded pride from the forced retreat.
All throughout the air base and the mobile crawler, soldiers readied themselves, but none were more prepared than Sigma Squad, the elite among the elite. Together with their supply of repurposed deathclaws and super mutants, captured from the wasteland and outfitted with power armor and mind control units, they made their plans for their next attack against the Brotherhood of Steel.
The remaining researchers quickly adapted all of their work into enhancing the weapons and armor of their soldiers. This meant the cancellation of various other projects, including the work of one researcher, Whitley, who was working on advanced eyebot models. Knowing that his work was going to be stripped and remade into armor for the soldiers, Whitley took his only working model, ED-E, and uploaded it with key data. He wished it well and said goodbye, sending it westwards towards Enclave allies left behind.
Unbeknownst to all others within the facility, the researcher Dr. Blair had managed to smuggle in the sample jar containing the only remaining mass of the creature from Vault 87. It was here that he had been performing experiments upon it, testing its capacity to assimilate and repurpose biomass by feeding it living animals. He had no intentions of sharing his work with anyone else—no, this creature to him represented something far beyond anything else the Enclave had in mind. Blair was taken by the possibilities this organism represented and made plans only for himself.
Outside in the massive pens that housed their experiments, the handlers for the super mutants and deathclaws prodded the captives with long electrical prods. The cries of the reptilian mutants could be heard half the base over. Equipped with harnesses on their heads that kept them under the control of their handlers through administration of electrical shocks, the shock troopers were conditioned to kill all those the Enclave pointed them at.
One of these beasts, a deathclaw that the Enclave had brought with them from out west, carried in a cage on the bottom of a vertibird, was very different from all of the others. As the deathclaws around him howled and screamed at the torture the Enclave forced upon them, this one was silent. This was because of two things: it had long known the torment of its captors, and it was no mindless beast.
No, far from it: it had all the intelligence of a man, if not more. It was once part of a pack of similarly-intelligent deathclaws created by the Enclave. They had captured and exposed deathclaws to FEV, which boosted their intellect. But when they rebelled against their creators, they were all killed, save for two. One of them escaped into the wild with the help of a native tribal, and the other was the one who now languished here.
Though he had been turned into a weapon at their hands, he remembered who he was. They would never take his identity as Xarn away from him. And when his moment came, he would escape. Looking around at the other deathclaws and realizing that the time of their deployment would be soon, he patiently waited.
Soon he would be free.
The five keys had opened the way for him. In the far northern reaches of the Capital Wasteland, the ancient military facility of Fort Constantine lied rusting and waiting. Burke easily picked his way past the automated defenses and robotic guardians that now guarded it, using the keys to gain access to the deepest levels of the facility. Here, there were weapons that could bring untold destruction to the land, ancient tools of mass destruction. But those were not what he sought; not yet. He would have time for those later.
No, kept within this facility was a suit of armor kept within a specialized stasis field that had preserved it. T-51b power armor, to be precise, and it was his for the taking, which he did. He left Fort Constantine behind, sealing the doors and the missiles within behind him. He would return to this place in the future, once he had the means to utilize the weapons within.
Burke was no fool. He knew that nearly all of the wasteland was hunting him now. What's more, he knew that Lloyd in particular was hunting him. But he wasn't too concerned about the vault dweller. He had left a false trail behind in the D.C. ruins that would set him too far back to find him.
Now, he moved at night and did not travel along any well-trodden paths. It was a long journey that he had before him, to a place far to the southwest. Not Tenpenny Tower, for he knew that it was no longer safe for him to be there. Not to Daniel Littlehorn, who would likely attempt to kill him for the trouble he had brought the man. No, Burke knew another place altogether that was his and his alone to know.
His plans had failed. He had taken his revenge, but now he needed something that would guarantee his survival. None would offer him sanctuary now, none but those who would never refuse a pact made willingly. Burke knew of a place where he could speak to them. He had done so before.
He avoided all patrols and hazards along the way. It took him several days to reach his destination; an old office building, secluded and far from any other remnant of civilization. This place was special to him in a number of ways, and it had been years since he had last visited it. It was a haven for ghouls and mindless beasts, attracted to voices they could not hear. Burke, clad in the armor he taught himself to wear, fought his way past the ferals and glowing ones, through the decrepit offices. Darkness and blood paved the way to the basement.
The building connected to a series of caverns. As he advanced, he could feel something watching him. Or possibly a great many things. The caverns, wet and eerie, carried the echoes of his footsteps far. In the back of his mind, he felt he heard something respond to those echoes from deeper within, beckoning him to go deeper and deeper. Whispers scratched at the door to his mind, promising something he could not understand.
He reached the main chamber, a place he had only once seen before when he was a child. At the heart of this virulent under chamber was an obelisk. It was an arcane thing, much older than the building built above it. Five skulls were set within it and stone tendrils of a tentacle nature wrapped around it. Emerging from the top of it was the stone figure of a woman, appearing as though bound or trapped within the obelisk and its tendrils, one arm outstretched as if trying to escape. All of it was made out of a black, obsidian-like material and it was covered in dust and layers of caked-on green grime.
Here, a thick otherworldly mist hung in the air. Burke looked on at several humanoid figures in the fog, bowing before the obelisk. Burke approached and the figures turned to him; they were ghouls, but something far beyond. Ghouls were still fundamentally human things—shriveled up and emaciated, but still possessed of musculature and organs. These beings were nearly completely skeletal in nature, with elongated fingers and hollow eye sockets.
They came at him through the mist, shrieking noises that no creature was every meant to make. Burke grabbed one by the neck and killed it, smashing its body into another. They clawed and scratched at his armor but could not harm him. He punched and kicked at them, tearing them apart until they were nothing but bones, skin and rotting organs.
Burke calmed himself as he felt the rush of battle flee from him, replaced by a soundless voice that urged him closer to the obelisk. He removed the armor's helmet and fell before the thing, placing his hands upon its surface.
He removed his armor. Around him, the fog grew thicker. A nearby stone altar had a knife embedded within it that he fetched. He listened to the voiceless things around him that did not speak as men do. He looked up at the obelisk, seeing the stone figure of the woman reaching outwards. He took the knife and began to carve into the surface of the power armor.
Runes. Intricate symbols. Things he never knew before, but slowly came to realize now. The whispers around him grew louder, feeding him words that passed through his lips as he went about his work. "I am returned… I am returned… Ug-Qualtoth, I am returned… Ug-Qualtoth, in the deep temple… Ug-Qualtoth knows the gate… Ug-Qualtoth is the gate… Speak what you will me to do, Ug-Qualtoth… I will hear you and I will obey… Nogt sxuran tl ahbynw G'yeth… Nogt sxuran tl ahbynw G'yeth… Alhazred… Alhazred…"
Seth Burke remained there for a very long time, muttering strange words and carving his armor, making his pact with the unspeakable things beyond the threshold.
What emerged from those caverns was not Seth Burke.
Lloyd kicked open the door to the old house, his rifle leading the way. It was dark inside, but there was no mistaking it: Burke had been here. This house was one of many in the neighborhood, but the trail had led here and had ended. From investigating the murders at Rivet City and Underworld to finding those three dead mercs at Dukov's burnt-down home, Russ had followed the scent to this door.
Lloyd carefully looked around each corner, ready for the hated man to pop out behind each corner. Russ kept low, sniffing the area, but did not hear nor smell anything. Lloyd knew that Burke had come here, but why? What purpose did this house serve?
He entered the kitchen and found nothing. He crept up the stairs, rifle leading the way. The master bedroom was empty. The child's bedroom had nothing, except for a child's skeleton on the bed, clutching an old teddy bear. Lloyd lowered his rifle as he looked at it, imagining the child's final moments before death. Perhaps he died a peaceful death in his sleep when the bombs fell.
A bark from Russ drew him into the next room. A Mr. Handy robot was here, in good working order. A computer terminal that controlled it was nearby with an handwritten note on it.
It read, "Perhaps a poem will lighten your mood. –B"
Lloyd squinted at the words and held the paper up to Russ' nose. A bark confirmed that Burke had written it and left it here for him. Lloyd tossed it aside and turned the terminal on. The Mr. Handy unit was clearly a home assistant, as several of the programmed routines were mundane tasks such as walking the dog, picking up groceries, and reading the children a bedtime poem.
Lloyd tapped the keys to select the poem feature and hit enter. The Mr. Handy unit buzzed to life, its body propelled upwards by the thruster beneath it. Russ growled as the robot floated past, headed for the children's room.
Lloyd followed it and watched as it stopped next to the bed with the child's skeleton in it. The machine, not able to recognize that its family was long dead, began the necessitation of its poem.
"There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, and swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
"And frogs in the pool singing at night, and wild plum trees in tremulous white;
"Robins will wear their feathery fire, whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
"And not one will know of the war, not one, will care at last when it is done.
"Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, if mankind perished utterly;
"And Spring herself when she woke at dawn, would scarcely know that we were gone."
The robot, its program complete, floated out of the room, past Lloyd and his faithful hound and back to its room and deactivated.
Lloyd slowly stepped into the room and leaned back against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Russ walked up and licked his hand, but he didn't really notice.
Burke was gone. He knew that now. He had led him here so that he could see this, so he could hear the message of the machine. He looked at the long-dead child's skeletal remains and simply stared at them.
His father wasn't going to wake up. Amata wasn't going to wake up.
And neither was he.
