Escape
To my hopeful surprise, he unlatched the restraints keeping me from moving. "First things first," he said in a soothingly neutral tone, "I've been directed to escort you to the facilities." He pressed a series of buttons on the computer wall in rapid succession, detaching my Pip-Boy's connection and retracting the cable. Helping me sit up, he led me over to the pile of clean clothes. "Since you are going to be walking around, I suggest you get dressed."
The outfit was a brand new Institute uniform tunic and trousers, gray and white trimmed with blue sleeves. Inside the folded pile, I found a concealed folding knife just small enough to fit in a pocket. My freshly cleaned leather combat boots completed the outfit, and I felt much more secure once fully clothed. Z1-87 had given me what privacy he could during the process, but turned around as soon as the sound of rustling cloth had stilled.
"Much better," he approved. "Follow me."
The facilities briefly caused a moment of homesickness, they were so clean and normal looking. I sheepishly reveled in the feel of the fluffy white towels after washing my hands with warm soapy water. Yes, this is pretty amazing, but at what cost? Hoarding technology and resources? Why haven't they tried to help the people on the surface?
Returning to the examination room, Z1 assisted me back on the gurney, but ostensibly "forgot" to reattach the restraints when he covered me back up with the sheet. "I am supposed to feed you myself," he explained, "but as you are perfectly capable of independent movement, I do not see the necessity of doing so. I will remain here until you have completed your meal."
Bringing the tray over, he set it up across my lap. With a flourish that brought a fleeting smile to my face, he lifted the cover to display a perfectly cooked meal. Oh my, MacCready would love this. Clean water to drink, crisp vegetables, noodles in a tangy sauce, and even a formed protein patty of some kind. Legume based, unless I miss my guess. Guess there aren't too many places to graze herds around here, so a vegan diet makes sense. My body cried out for the good, filling nourishment provided by the Institute food, even as I felt amazingly guilty for the craving.
Z1-87 had his own commentary. "It looks like they want to win you over," he appraised. "Most meals here are not quite as... distinct in appearance."
"Hmmm." Figures. Why is it every high-tech organization has a penchant for food in goop form?
When I finished every scrap of the delicious food, Z1 came back over to take the tray. As he reached for the side handles, a small plastic oblong landed in my lap. "I bring aid," he said quietly, almost too quietly for me to hear despite our proximity. "We have a few mutual friends on both sides of the surface. While the computer systems struggle to deal with the burrowing programs your friend sent us via your device, my allies here will facilitate your escape as best we can without breaking our cover." He straightened up with the tray. "I have not officially been ordered to reattach your Pip-Boy, so I will not. Keep an eye on your, ah, newest accessory. When it is time, use it in the transmission room to return and erase your path. Good luck."
Still moving smoothly, he left the room with the tray, suggesting lightly as he turned down the lights, "You might want to take a nap after such a good meal. You will not be disturbed."
Oh-ho, I thought, palming the device. Tom thought ahead. I wonder how he managed to let the fugitive Synths here know I needed help? No matter, as I lay back into the crisp clean bedding, I'll be back with MacCready soon, but not soon enough.
Sleep was long in coming, fitful and filled with nightmares. After killing the Deathclaw, and the resulting panic-dream reaction, MacCready's presence had kept the frightful nocturnal visions away. This was the first night I had spent without him since he signed on as my bodyguard, and his absence emboldened my subconscious fears, causing me to bolt awake in fright more than once, reaching for the warm companion who wasn't there. I finally managed a light doze, barely more than a trance-like rest.
-0-
The lights were still low when the alert came. The room was silent save for the quiet, insistent buzzing of the device I held in my palm. Grateful for the distraction, I gave up any pretense of sleep. I wonder what time it is? So far underground, it was easy to lose track of the hours unless there was some kind of physical reminder. Time to go.
Stepping quietly into the entryway, a short hallway led towards a larger passage curving around in both directions. The way was clear of anyone, human or Synth, and I debated on whether or not I should try and sneak, or bluff my way with my pack and coat wrapped in the bed sheet like a load of laundry. Does the Institute even have individual laundry facilities, or do they have menial Synths gather it all up for mass cleaning? How conspicuous am I going to be?
After a few moments of deliberation, I decided to use both approaches; sneaking when I could, and bluffing if I detected anyone. The tiny knife came in handy to cut strips from the sheet to make a tie and handles for my burden. Feeling a little ridiculous, I slung the bundle over my shoulder, keeping the small plastic oblong in my hand. It was still vibrating, growing in intensity as I slunk quietly down the empty passage. The Institute continued to inadvertently impress me with how clean and intact the facilities were. It was a stark contrast to the dust- and debris-ridden surface world. Of course people topside are more primal, I thought sardonically, they're trying to scrape by in a ruined world. The people down here have no idea, no direct experience of scrounging for food or choking down irradiated water. They've been privileged and coddled. Maybe once I would have preferred the conditions down here, but now I can see how artificial it is. Give me Daisy's kindness, Garvey's compassion or MacCready's... well, everything, any day.
Just before I entered the main atrium crossroads, the device suddenly shifted in my palm. I had the distinct impression of the vibrations guiding me to the side of the hall, towards a plain doorway. As soon as I neared the door, it slid quietly aside to reveal a dimly lit maintenance hallway paralleling the circular main walkway. I stepped through and nearly bumped into a Gen 3 Synth standing with his back against the inside wall, holding the panel open.
I stifled my alarmed squeak when he put a finger to his lips, gesturing for me to continue my journey. He stepped out into the hallway I had just left, leaving me in the dim, empty passage. Moving slowly and quietly, I followed the passage and the gentle buzz of my handheld guide. I passed several branching doorways, glancing quickly to make sure I was still alone before darting across the openings. Finally, the tug of the device led me to a final door, identical to the one I had entered through.
The smooth door panel had no obvious handle or keyhole for me to utilize and I suffered a few moments of panic thinking I was trapped inside the Synth maintenance passages. I took a few deep breaths, calming myself before flicking on the Pip-Boy's light. The doorway was also initially featureless, but a small square outline about waist-high to one side reminded me a bit of a remote payment station. Why not? Waving the plastic oblong across the surface rewarded my intuition with a quiet hiss and the dim light of a larger passageway.
Peering out, my luck appeared to be holding. Or my unknown assistance is keeping the route clear. Either way, I'm not going to complain. The hallway looked familiar, dark gray guide stripe on the wall stretching along its length. A quick glance at the zoomed-in MAP screen on my Pip-Boy confirmed I was headed directly towards my initial teleportation entry point. Listening intently, all I could hear was the quiet hum of electricity. Better and better. Hoisting my awkward bundle more comfortably on my shoulder, I tiptoed towards the alcove at the end of the passageway.
The frantic buzzing of the device in my hand confirmed that this alcove filled with wires and strange metal arcs was where I wanted to be. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and placed my sheet-wrapped pack into the center of the dimly illuminated round platform. Here, but not gone yet. How do I work this thing? A quick search showed me a terminal and keyboard set off to one side. I was just about to attach my Pip-Boy interface and hack the system when I paused, hesitating.
Hold up. If I link to this thing, they're going to know. Z1-87 said I needed to use the oblong in here. I should probably follow his instructions. Examining the small plastic oblong, I found a hidden seam on the end of the device, prying it open with my knife to reveal an interface dongle. There we go. The screen blossomed with text, flickering too fast for me to read, until it cleared and settled onto a single line of code:
Single relay return to previous location : Systemic purge of all coordinate records : Reset global parameters to 0.0.0 : Countdown initiates upon external drive removal
Holy shit, I thought. If this does what I think it's going to do, the Institute is going to lose every last bit of their matter transmission location data. This will set them back for a good long while! With a sinister smile, I firmly detached and pocketed the small plastic device, stepping into the center of the platform which was beginning to glow brightly. The humming in the room grew louder and louder as the system warmed up, which finally resulted in attracting unwanted attention.
I heard yells and pounding steps charging down the hallway towards me just as the flash of blue-white teleportation energy whisked me away.
The crackle of instantaneous travel faded around me a moment later with a lingering flicker of pulsing electricity along the buried cathodes in my body. I was standing in exactly the same spot at Bunker Hill, but the concrete floor beneath my feet was cracked and scarred, chunks scattered across the walkway. Early morning light streamed in from the side, bathing the cold white empty area with a warm pinkish-yellow glow. The body of the dead Courser was gone, a large dark stain remaining to show where he had been. Leaning against the first trading counter father back, Deacon watched me, arms crossed.
"Deacon!" I cried, overwhelmingly happy to see the familiar Railroad spy. He shifted a little, but didn't answer, or even uncross his arms. "Deacon?" I repeated, confused. "What happened? Where is everyone?" My voice rose in panic. "Where's MacCready?"
Finally he moved, dropping his arms to prop against the counter. "What happened? Good question." His lilting voice was cool. "Could ask you the same thing. Where is everyone?" He shrugged. "Not back yet. It's only been a day, after all." He paused to readjust his sunglasses with deliberate movements. "Where's MacCready...?"
Strong arms grabbed me from behind, but not in welcome. My own limbs were pinned, causing me to drop my pack as I was pulled off balance into a lean form. A cold, sharp line pressed suddenly against my neck, the feel of a combat knife moments away from slitting my throat. I froze in sudden terror as I caught MacCready's frowning, uncompromising profile shadow the edge of my peripheral vision.
Deacon continued nonchalantly, shrugging. "He's right here, making sure the Institute isn't going to try something foolish... like replace you."