CHAPTER TWO: CALL TO ARMS
Authors note: re-posted this Chapter with an edit for the Non-Fallout fans, to explain the nature of Synth's and why Sam can't seem to shake those rumours! The Gen-3s to be clear are indistinguishable from humans right down to their DNA if they want to be. They bleed red and can be stamped with the memory of your nearest and dearest. See End Notes for more details.
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Jack stood inside the Police HQ looking around at the setup the Brotherhood had in here. It was basic, clearly more of a stop gap outpost than anything else. They hadn't been here long it seemed, just long enough to start getting comfy. There were sleeping bags, a table and chairs, even a portable fridge by the looks of it. Nice, he hadn't seen one of those in a while. Jack imagined they'd appropriated the armoury first.
Sam took her cap off as she looked around and shook out her blonde hair; Jack was watching as Rhys noted it. The miserable git stared flatly at her, sat on an old office chair his leg propped up on a crate. It was clearly mostly healed but Jack knew from experience the area was a little tender for a few hours. Rhys though didn't look so happy and Jack wondered if he had a problem with blondes, women in general, or if it was just because Sam had stood up to him. Although saying that, he looked a miserable sort, his scowl a perma-feature of his face. Maybe he was feeling like Danse, embarrassed that this mighty Brotherhood had needed saving too. Although Jack noted that he wasn't sporting the fancy power armour suit Danse was. He wondered if they were a privilege of rank.
Jack approached him, dropping down into the seat next to him, and offered him some of the gum he had stashed in his pocket. The guy looked at him and accepted it without a smile, more of a gruff nod. They got to talking, made easier when the guy had proffered up some beer; they reminisced about baseball of all things and a shared love of an automatic combat rifle.
Turns out the Brotherhood weren't all that different from the soldiers he used to know. Granted they had a bit more religious zeal about them. The way Knight Rhys spoke about 'cleansing' the Commonwealth had been unnerving; the man had a stick up his butt about 'Muties'. Sam was pottering out back with Haylen, but Rhys was still watching her avidly. His wrist seemed to be working fine now, but he rubbed it almost subconsciously whenever he looked at her. That wasn't good; the man's wrist was apparently easy to fix up, but his pride wasn't so fast to recover. Jack was listening to him half-heartedly, watching him more closely as he went on about how no one was safe until every damn Ghoul, Super-mutant, Synth and Bug out there was eradicated. Jack noted he wasn't making a distinction between the Feral's and the regular Ghoul folk; he bit the inside of his cheek and caught Sam's eye as she looked up. Her intense stare told him that she'd been listening too and thought like he did; they might have kicked a hornets nest here with this bunch.
"You not going to add Raiders to that little hit list of yours?" Jack pressed, and Rhys looked up at him, his expression opening in surprise for a moment, a pained grimace that in a certain light might be a grin creased his lips.
"Scum bags and bottom feeders all of them. Hell yeah. Commonwealth doesn't need their sort. Damn assholes taking pot shots at us like they think they know how to hold a damn rifle. Cowards the lot of them, no honour." Rhys growled.
"Here, here." Jack muttered and clinked their beers together, wishing he didn't agree with the guy, but he had a point on that one. Problem is, with a rhetoric built on hate like that, where did you go from there? Once all the Mutants and Ferals were gone, maybe they'd start on the regular Ghouls … then the humans that disagreed with them. Slippery slopes. Jack wondered if Sam was having a similar flash back to Alar and the iris he'd closed in his damn face to prevent that exact kind of hate spreading to Earth. Damn, he'd hated that mission. Hated more that he'd sat in that damn chair and shot down God knows how many innocent people in the name of hate and intolerance. Sam looked away as she responded to something Haylen was saying. That had been one of the first times he knew Sam had seen just how black his 'Black ops' had made him. He had been unapologetic in his certainty of the right thing to do then. He longed for that clarity of thought again. Nothing was black and white out here.
Danse took in an interest in the holotape Sam had presented them from the dead Brotherhood Knight they'd found; one of this 'lost patrol' it seemed. Jack listened in as they discussed what the recording of his death revealed. Nothing more than they had gleaned from it by the sounds of it, but Danse seemed appreciative none the less, which was something. Paladin Danse didn't however attempt to sit down with them and have a drink. Other than the interest he'd taken in the holotape he'd barely said two words. Just returned to his station behind the counter, watching them and loading ammo into guns, striping and cleaning weapons. All work and no play … it also meant there was never a gun out of his reach, and Jack felt the weight of his own pistol against his thigh, his rifle propped up by the table beside him. 'Always ready', it was steadily becoming the Minutemen's new motto, and he tried not to feel too proud of instilling that mentality in them.
"Danse …" he called out to the other man, "… why don't you come and have a drink with us. Take a load off." Jack called to him, waving a beer. "It's warm and tastes like piss … but hey. Apocalypse."
Danse gave him a rigid stare. "Pass."
Jack huffed. "Suit yourself." He glanced at Knight Rhys again who was drinking his with a grimace. "You know, if I get to liking you, the good Colonel over there fixed me up a sweet Drinking Buddy, ice-cold brews and everything. I'd be willing to let you come by and have a few on me." Rhys smirked and clinked their warm beer bottles together in agreement. Seemed like beer was a Universal time-honoured bonding tradition for guys no matter what planet.
"You're alright old man." Rhys informed him grimly, wiping his hand on the back of his mouth as he clearly tried to clear the taste of the 'beer'. Jack's eyebrows rose. He didn't comment but he did catch Sam's smirk from across the room as she mouthed 'old man' at him, with a twinkle in her eye. He grimaced, that statement on top of his slips earlier today was like gasoline on a fire; she gave him a look clearly sensing his unease and her amusement faltered slightly so he hastily looked away. It was a stupid thing to get wound up about. He was getting old, fact of life, so what? Except out here it might get them both killed before she had a chance to get them out of here.
"You know, we might be able to help each other." he heard Sam offer Haylen, her voice carrying just enough to reach Danse who was studiously not looking at her. "Think of me as tech support. The General's Minutemen have reconnected the Settlements and supply lines throughout the Commonwealth. We have resources spread pretty wide. We can put out the word and see what comes back about your missing Recon Team, get a bead on them if any of them is still alive?" Jack had to admire how she was making it quite clear that it was 'his' Minutemen, reinstating their importance and control over this area of the Commonwealth. Clever. To think he'd once rued the day he was saddled with a 'clever' soldier.
Scribe Haylen blinked, her eyes snapped to Paladin Danse, awaiting orders it seemed. He huffed and strode out from behind the counter again, stalking over to them still in his power suit. Jack wondered if he slept in the damn thing. Probably. Jack might too if he had one, except that it would prevent him from feeling Sam's body pressed against him, which would be a travesty. The woman in question was eyeing the suit and he hoped the gleam in her eye meant she'd found something interesting rather than simply being mesmerised by the Tin-Can Marine rather than her crusty 'old' militia husband.
"The servo on your right leg is bust," Sam informed him, taking it in is a he moved towards her. "I can tell by your gait on that side. Let me guess, it's only partially-responsive and probably keeps locking up on you?" Sam smiled thinly indicating the power armour that of course she spotted. He wouldn't have had a clue, but by the look on Danse's face it was true. He didn't bite though.
"Tell you what, how about I fix up that power suit for you as a show of faith?" Sam stood, indicating the leg. "I fix it, maybe you start trusting us and we can figure out how to work together?"
"And why would you want to help us?" Danse questioned, his eyes shrewd. Clearly their experience in the Commonwealth hadn't been a good one, as evidenced by two dead recon teams. Danse clearly thought that trust was an expensive luxury.
"Why not?" Jack retorted. "Soldiers in Arms and all that." He popped his feet down off the table and stood, coming almost toe to toe with the bigger but not taller man, following Sam's lead.
"Look, I've been in the military a long time, and if there's one thing I know, no matter how many years, how many damn wars … I know, we still don't leave people behind." Jack told the bigger man, feeling a certainty in that, after all, they sent out a search party for one recon team. "Your team's still missing, your mission's still on. We'll help find them, dead or alive." he promised, which might have been a little bold, if he'd correctly interpreted Sam's slight lip quirk and eyebrow raise. Sam would probably have preferred he offer something a little less tangible, like finding out what happened to them, rather than actually 'finding' them. But it was out there now and he felt it was a 'go big or go home moment'.
"So you're what, offering to be our backup out here?" Knight Rhys snorted gruffly. He looked them over then looked pointedly at Danse, "They might be damn synths for all we know." said that like he wanted to spit after the word, which was no surprise.
Jack felt mildly affronted by that. "Hey, we shared a beer!" he griped at the guy.
Rhys looked him over. "And I'd shoot you dead in a heartbeat if you started showing wires." he replied. "But I'll admit you seem like a good guy." He glanced over at Sam, giving her a once over again. "Her though …" he pointed at her, his lip curling into a sneer. "Her I don't trust."
Sam quirked an eyebrow. "What did I do?" she grinned at him. "Other than snap your delicate little wrist?" Jack gave her a slight head shake. This Knight Rhys wasn't the guy to bait, he'd had his pride wounded several times today once getting shot, then getting rescued by a bunch of 'civies', then getting schooled by a woman he'd clearly considered no threat. Jack could almost feel the anger rolling off him, looking for a target.
Rhys stood, pointing at her darkly. "Yes, you did. Snapped it with almost inhuman strength you might say."
Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself Knight. It's just physics. The application of pressure and speed, or did they stop teaching that?"
Jack glanced at Rhys. He was breathing heavily, his hand fisted, Oh, this asshole wanted to smack Carter on her ass for sure. Jack lowered his hand to his pistol, hovering over it.
"Don't push me Blondie." Rhys sneered at her. "You look like you just rolled off a factory floor." Rhys baited. "How about I snap your wrist? See if you bleed red or if it's all sparks and wires in there."
Jack winced, not a good topic. He stalked forward and slammed his hand into Rhys's chest. "Back off pal. That's my 2IC, and more importantly, my damn wife you're accusing right now …" he snarled, barely restraining himself. "How about you go cool off a bit before you say something neither one of us can overlook." Jack advised, but Rhys' eyes were fixed on Sam, his fist white knuckled at his side. But he wasn't stupid enough to pull a gun on her again, which was something Jack supposed.
"Like we said, we just rolled out of a Vault. I guess I'll add hard of hearing to stupid." Sam retorted, she shifted and Jack could see what that Synth accusation again and again was doing to her.
It wasn't fair damn it! It was exactly what he'd feared back in Sanctuary when he'd asked her to wear a mask - although that had been for a different reason as he hadn't known about Synth's then, back then he'd thought he was maybe just biased, overreacting maybe. Turns out he'd been bang on the money and that damn accusation was going to follow her all over the Commonwealth, no matter what good they did. To be frank Jack had been confused about the accusation a little when he'd first encountered Valentine, the guy was clearly a walking android with a plastic skin covering, even if his memories and personality were a direct download. Just like with Harlan's robot bodies, there was no hiding that! But it was these damn Gen-3 synths that the Railroad had finally explained to him which were the problem, lab grown humans with synthetic components hidden in their bodies that made them programmable and DNA all mixed up with that damn FEV virus (perfected it seems after the earlier Super Mutant mishaps with it). Those Gen-3 bastards didn't need to eat or sleep - although they could, to blend in. They really were the enemy next door, they could replace your neighbour and you'd be none the wiser. Maybe Piper hadn't been so far off the money accusing the Diamond City Mayor after all, now all that damn paranoia he'd sensed in that town made a lot more sense.
But it left Sam shit out of luck, she was symmetrical enough and...well in his opinion, perfect enough, to have been designed in a God damn lab. And this time cutting open her hand to show the inner workings wasn't going to cut it like it had with his robot-self that one time. He had no idea how in hell you could shake this damn accusation once it attached itself to you. Honestly, if he ever met this damn Institute he was going to shove a P90 up their asses! Trust this ass-hat in the Brotherhood that Sam was so keen to join to be another paranoid mud-slinger like Marcie.
"Convenient." Rhys muttered, clearly not impressed with their Vault cover story.
"And was it convenient that we just saved your asses out there from a literal army of Ghouls?" Jack snarked, then paused, realising how it sounded; probably wasn't doing them any favours. "Okay … bad example." He waved his hands dismissing the thought, "We just saved your asses alright. Why the hell would we do that if we were Synths?"
"I'm not worried about you," Rhys corrected. "I'm talking about Miss Pristine over there … even her teeth are white!" Rhys sneered, making Jack run his tongue over his own teeth, wondering if they'd gone bad and he'd not been aware of it. Sam's eyes drifted to Haylen, and he noted that even the Scribe seemed to be giving her a reassessing look.
"I'll say this once. I'm not a damn Synth, I can't stand them." Sam snapped stalking up to Rhys and both Jack and Danse drew their guns. Jack kept his down at his side, so did Danse, which was something, but they eyed each other warily. This could easily come to blows. Sam needed this damn group. He had to calm her down but dredging up that Fifth baggage never was a way to keep her on an even keel.
"You accuse me again and I'll do more than break your damn wrist." Sam threatened and Rhys reached out fuelled by rage, grabbing her by the front of her armor.
"Are you threatening a Knight of the Brotherhood?!" he snarled right into her face. Jack could see the idiot was an inch from death right now, because Sam was beyond livid; the horror of that experience right there in her face if the idiot only cared to look. Danse clearly read the genuine threat there too.
"Knight!" Paladin Danse bellowed. "Stand down. Your out of line!" Rhys blinked. "Paladin … you can't honestly tell me that you believe this?" he snapped back, not taking his eyes off Sam who was glaring soundly at him. Her hand had risen to encircle the other wrist gripping her armour.
"I said that's enough! Release Colonel Carter this instant, or I'll have you up on charges and busted down to Initiate faster than you can say 'Synth'." Danse growled, stalking closer to them, his expression stoic. Jack felt his first impression of the man go up a few notches. "They saved our asses out there. Right now that's all the proof I need of their intentions. Now unhand her, or I expect Scribe Haylen will be patching you up again after she puts you back on that ass."
Rhys gave Sam one last look before he dropped her armor shoving her back as she released the wrist she'd gripped again at some point. They stood there staring each other down. The tension in the room didn't get any better, but at least they were apart staring through narrowed eyes and sharp breaths at one another.
Rhys grumbled. "Just stay out of my way, Synth whore!" he snarled in clear warning.
Oh hell no! Jack had his gun up and pointed at the asshole, who had the good sense to flinch when it pressed against his temple. Fuck de-escalating the situation. "What did you just say?" he growled, digging the barrel in a little to make his point. Rhys went very still. So, not a complete idiot then despite the words coming out of his mouth. Particularly as Sam had her plasma pistol in her hand too. Once upon a time he might not have killed a man for insulting her like that … once upon a time she might have let it slide too. But this wasn't once upon a time, this was right fucking now, and right now it was 50/50 as his finger brushed the trigger.
Danse looked between them all and cleared his throat. "Enough all of you!" he barked. There was a tone of command in it that Jack could respect, even through the haze of red he was seeing right now. No one talked to Sam that way, no one. Not even the damn Goa'uld had ever been stupid enough to disrespect her like that.
"I understand that you've been through a lot today Knight, so I'll forgive this one temporary lapse. But I will not have you jeopardise a possible alliance with a group that has both the skill and connections to assist us in our hour of need." Danse barked at his man. "Show some damn respect and manners. Apologise to Colonel Carter. Now."
The Paladin's gun was trained on Jack, he could see it out of his peripheral vision. A silent threat to release his man, even if he was being an idiotic ass right now. Jack grimaced, but he removed the gun from Rhys's head. Pulling back for a moment, Jack trained his dark eyes on Rhys's face , willing him to understand how close he was to being dead right now. "Semper Fi, asshole." he growled at the idiot, who took a step back, gave one dark look at them all and stalked away, slamming the door on his way out.
"I'll take that apology any time!" Sam called after him and got nothing back. She rolled her eyes and slid up beside Jack where he stood tense, gun still out. Her hip bumping against his, as she pressed a hand to his chest, the other over his wrist still holding the damn gun. The faintest of pressure but enough to remind him. Hell, she hadn't shot the guy and she'd been the one insulted. 'We need them' she reminded him without saying a word and he sighed, holstering his weapon. Bit rich he thought coming from her given as she'd been right there with him.
Danse came to stand in front of them and Jack noted that Scribe Haylen had vanished too. He wondered if she'd gone after Rhys. "Semper Fi huh?" Danse questioned, not bothering to apologise for his man again. Distraction, that was Jack's strategy too, he could live with that.
"It means …" Jack started and Danse interrupted.
"Always loyal." Danse translated. "I appreciate the sentiment. But it's outdated. Ad Victorum is our preference."
"To victory." Sam murmured and Danse nodded, well, that told him a lot about them.
Jack shrugged, "I was never all that attached to that saying anyway. I was Air Force."
"So you said. So you were pilots?" Danse queried looking between them both.
"Yep." Sam popped the 'p' on that. "They used to let whores fly then too." she sniped with real bitterness, just loud enough for her voice to travel to where she clearly suspected Rhys was lingering outside. Jack thought it was ironic that of course it would be here, in the one place Sam had come hoping for some common ground, that she'd find it, in casual misogyny. Asshole.
Danse gave her an assessing stare, glancing up to where his man had gone. "Knight Rhys is a good soldier, but he lacks manners. I'll deal with that. You need to understand though, he was born into the Brotherhood. The chaos out here has been a difficult adjustment."
Sam shrugged, the sob story clearly wasted on her if her stony expression was anything to go by. "If that's his only beef with those bastards then he needs to take a number and get in line behind me, because that isn't nearly enough to excuse him!" she snapped.
"Still, I apologise for his behaviour." Danse said finally and Jack wondered what it might take to ruffle the guy; there was stoic and then there was this guy. "We're all reeling from the loss of our team. He's not himself and all our tempers are a little frayed."
Jack snorted, "I'm sure he's usually a real charmer."
Danse huffed, "Not really. I'd like to say you caught him on a bad day, but they all are out here." Jack couldn't help but agree with that damn sentiment.
"Fine. But the next time he opens his mouth to insult me I'm going to shoot him in the other leg." Sam promised and Danse nodded.
"Fair enough."
"So you still want me to fix that thing?" she offered pointing to the suit leg. Danse looked down, his eyes on the busted leg and then on her; a woman who'd just been thoroughly pissed off by his subordinate. Even if he hadn't wanted to accept her help before, he was going to now, Jack realised. Especially if he wanted to smooth over this little incident; he suspected Sam knew that as well as he did, which was exactly why she'd asked. If these assholes weren't going to give her the opportunity to shine she'd make one for herself.
"There's a garage out back, some tools too." Danse nodded finally, his voice a gravely pitch as he indicated the direction. Clearly eager to put this behind them and maybe make his own damn assessment Jack thought.
"Lead the way." Sam instructed and Jack gave her a look, not certain being alone with Danse right now was the best idea. But on the plus side, if they had been suspected of being Synth's, that little irrational display of anger might have helped. He swallowed back the unease and gave her a nod. After all, he had an HQ to sweep and see what he could find out about this Brotherhood given as everyone else had apparently sulked off.
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Sam was steaming, anger rolling through her blood as she watched Danse get out of his suit and dock it in the power armour workbench station that seemed to be a dime a dozen out here – even if the suits themselves were much harder to come by now in working condition. She'd seen the yellow upright workstations in almost every truck stop, which showed how common those suits might have once been, at the height of the war. Working with her hands had always been a tried and tested way of dealing with her emotions and this was no different. Granted the emotions had her hands practically shaking. She'd never have believed a few simple words, spoken by an ignorant ass, could have the power to affect her like this. It seemed like Jack was right; out here she'd always feel like a damn liability to him. Of course he and Rhys had been getting on like a house on fire until he'd put a gun to the man's head, to defend her damn honour of all things. Fuck. Maybe she should have just let Jack try and get in with this group. It was what he did; infiltration and adaptation. He had a damn gift for reading people and presenting himself in a way that spoke to whatever they needed. Something that had always irked the insecure Doctor-Captain in her. She picked up the wrench and tried not to slam it down in a fit of misplaced anger. It wasn't Jack's fault he was so damn good at fitting in, whilst she stuck out like a sore thumb. But it didn't make her feel any better. And being mad with Jack for something he couldn't help was probably safer right now than thinking about Rhys and who she'd have honestly quite like to shoot him.
So she spent the next few hours elbow deep in grease and gears, with Danse checking on her every now and again until he gave up the pretence of 'not-watching' her and started handing her tools, when it became apparent she knew what she was doing. Apparently, this suit was like her motorcycle back home; in that it was his baby. She managed to get some information out of him about it. Enough to know that whilst some of his Knights had suits, Rhys wasn't among them. Which meant that this suit was the only one they had left. She doubted he'd be convinced to part with it anytime soon, which meant she needed to find a way to get her hands on two more.
"Nice." He grinned, kneeling next to her and watching her add the finishing touches to the upgraded HUDs she'd installed in the helmet, based on a similar scanning program to the Pip-Boy that would give him information about targets. Because why not? After she'd fixed the leg she needed to show off a little as it hadn't been exactly that hard an overhaul. She'd even managed to realign the kinetic shock absorbers in both legs, which should significantly improve not only his suit's ability to withstand falls but also boost its load capacity. If taxed, they could also be pushed to release a static charge that might immobilise an attacker for a few seconds.
Sam felt a flicker of a grin for a minute as Danse stroked the casing and noting the upgrades. All distractions aside it was nice to have her work appreciated. "Just don't ask me to paint it." she grinned taking in his wistful look, she'd seen a Raider who'd got one that had a bright red shiny finish with Nuka Cola stamped all over it like a walking billboard, all he was missing was the flashing neon sign saying "Shoot me!" Which she had; in her defence he'd been firing at a bunch of stranded Minutemen cadets at the time. Sadly that armour hadn't been in much shape after she'd put a missile through it, whatever it had been made of it wasn't anything like Danse's superior plating which could have withstood a short range missile she was certain.
"Noted." He grunted, running his hands over the joints. Danse didn't strike her as a paint job type. Keep it simple, she suspected, given the way he was admiring the lines of her welding. "Very nice work." He turned to her with the beginnings of a smile at the corner of his mouth, apparently all was forgiven if she could fix his suit. Sam shrugged, it had been busy work for her hands, nothing more stimulating than that. She was a little disappointed his suit was definitely next gen compared to the one she'd found and cannibalised; the same basic principles with some fancier haptics and sensors. She'd taken a look at the radiation shielding; this one wasn't meant for that clearly. It had a more durable lining but it could be easily adapted at least. So it wasn't a total waste. She could definitely use something like this to get them out to the Glowing Sea if she had time to do a little work on it.
"I take it you took Knight Rhys' comments somewhat personally before?" Danse started in that no-nonsense tone. Sam sighed, thinking it was a dumb ass question, clearly he didn't do a lot of small talk if that was his 'subtle' attempt to get her talking. She tossed the wrench onto the work bench and glanced up at Danse, wiping the grease on her pant leg and considering him.
"Which part was I not meant to take personally? The part where he called me a Synth, or when he called me a whore?" she replied sharply.
Danse grimaced. "The latter was out of line and he'll be disciplined for, but he wasn't wrong to query the first. It's an honest observation, former Vault dwellers or not." He cocked his head observing her. "Only I got the impression that there was some history there with Synths for you?"
Sam stood, fisting her hand and taking a breath, why the hell did everyone seem to need this goddamn story out of her. She needed to get a handle on this reaction because he was right, and so was Jack. It was hardly going to be the last time her face got her in trouble out here. "Like I said, I'm the last person you want to go accusing of being a Synth. It's funny, Rhys only thinks he hates them because they're what … the bogeymen out here?" she tutted, "He has no idea the threat they pose." she added darkly, "and yes I'm speaking from personal experience now. Very personal." she swore letting him see just how pissed she was.
Danse gave her an assessing look. "Rhys may be a bigoted asshat, but he understands as all in the Brotherhood do, that Synth's may represent the greatest threat to humanity since the nuclear war wiped out the majority of it." he replied grim faced.
"They are a perversion of science and mankind's misguided attempts at playing God. They're very existence can only lead to more destruction, more chaos and more suffering. They offer more than simple death, they may very well represent a loss of humanity itself." he swore and Sam stiffened, her skin prickling at those words… words she couldn't help but whole heartedly believe in.
"They are machines masquerading as men, they have no honour." Danse told her firmly and she stood corrected, it seems they understood the threat just fine.
Sam stepped up to him her eyes narrowed. "You're preaching to the choir Paladin. I know how bad they are, the threat they pose, and believe me … a Synth reveals itself within range of my rifle, it's going to know about it."
"Like I said, personal." Danse growled.
He was probing. She didn't particularly want to lie to him, suspecting that this was a man that was surprisingly astute at reading people. But needs must and it wasn't entirely a lie; she genuinely hated and distrusted Synth's. No matter what impression Valentine had made, nothing would ever blot out her experiences with Fifth and his brethren. Artificial life was just that … artificial and wrong. What did telling the story one more time hurt if it got her where she needed to be.
"I became the unfortunate guest of a Synth once." Sam told him sharply. Trailing off with a pregnant silence. "I learnt all I needed to know then about artificial life and the lies they tell, even to themselves. He hurt me in ways I didn't know I could be. So believe me when I tell you, I'll die before I let that happen again to me or anyone else, but more importantly I'll kill every one of the bastards, before they can so much as think about trying it again." she swore.
Danse grimaced. "Very well, I think then we have an understanding." He nodded, looking like he might actually feel some genuine sympathy for her sob story.
"I will speak with my Knight, there will be no more Synth accusations." Sam nodded, appreciating that at least. "And Colonel, since we have established a measure of trust and you've proven yourself handy with a wrench, perhaps it wouldn't be too forward of me to ask if you could assist us with another matter?" Danse offered and she gave him an eyebrow arch; he wasn't shy about asking at least.
"How are you with comms towers?" he broached and she felt her lips curl into a genuine smile this time, sensing their way in to this little band of broken soldiers after all. Who needed Jack's charm when you had mad tech skills.
"Paladin, you wouldn't believe me if I told you half the things I could get working, given the time and tools." Sam told him, trying not to sound smug. It was just a damn fact and she was relying on that ability to not only get them into the Brotherhood's good graces, and access to their technology, but also to get them home if the opportunity arose.
He led her up to the roof where there was a communications relay tower setup, clearly pre-war. She shooed away a black raven perched on top who gave her an indignant squawk as she clipped its beak, so she could get at the unit to examine it. Meanwhile Danse kept an eye from the rooftops, taking a couple of pot-shots at lone Ghouls hovering outside the perimeter whilst she worked. He was skilled she noted, her eyes half on him and his steady aim as on her work.
"So, you know what's wrong with it?" He turned, clearly wanting her assessment having noticed her watching him rather than it for the last few minutes. He seemed to be a man of few words, straight and to the point. She could work with that.
"A few things, but you definitely need a new transmitter. This one's had it." she told him, jabbing the offending item which had been fried at some point with her finger. All in all, it wasn't going to be too complicated to fix, but it needed parts.
He grinned. "Yeah. I know." Danse turned and pointed; she followed his gaze across the darkening skyline as the sun began to set. He held up his rifle allowing her to look down the scope. Sam moved her aim a few meters as she stared through it, until she could make out a building in the distance; some of the external lights still functional, lighting it up against the darkening backdrop.
"Arc Jet." he informed her. "An old aerospace plant specialising in weapons tech. They have a deep range transmitter. They used to use it to communicate with their rockets. We've picked up the signal so we know it's still broadcasting." She dropped the rifle and shook her head at him. He'd tested her of course, having known exactly what he needed. What he didn't have was a team or at least enough of one, that could go get it whilst holding back this base… not until she and Jack had conveniently fallen in his lap. So he was smart, for a Jarhead. She filed that away for later.
"Let me guess. You need a few able bodies to retrieve it?" she sighed, contemplating whether there was a way of turning this situation to her advantage. She didn't especially want to reveal what it was she wanted. Showing people your hand out here was never wise, despite Danse having just done exactly that. He was trusting her, knowing how tactically weak he and his team were right now she thought it was a fairly big gesture… or just a desperate one.
"Say the General and I agree to assist you in retrieving the parts you need and I fix up the comms. What would we get?" she posed arms crossed as she stared at him intently. Not hostile, but waiting. "Because I'm guessing that it was more than just those Ghouls stopping you from storming the place?" she pressed, refusing to be blindsided or sent on another wild goose chase like that damn Railroad.
"How would my heartfelt thanks sound?" He added, "And like the General said, the satisfaction of helping a soldier in need." He eyed her clearly unamused expression.
Sam gave it a moments consideration, poker never had been her game, but she had a fairly decent hand and he'd already shown his weak one. "You know what Paladin, I think we've done enough good deeds for the day. My husband and I ought to be getting back to the Minutemen." she made to step around him and his arm went out, grasping on to her bicep; she stopped and glanced down at it, then up at him. He didn't release her which she was taking for desperation rathe than aggression. The Paladin and his team had lost too damn much and were barely hanging on out here, but he was still trying to control the situation, to survive, just like everyone else out here.
"All right, fine!" he barked sharply, irritation flickering across his darkened features, this wasn't a man that begged for help. Not ever. "I really need a couple of good soldiers to get in there. Haylen's a Scribe, she's bright but not meant for the damn field, and Rhys is needed here to keep the defences up." That wasn't news to Sam she'd already figured that much herself, her unrelenting expression clearly told him as much. He'd need to do better than that.
"Look, last time I went in, I had a team of Knights and we still got pushed back." he grimaced and dropped her arm finally. She didn't let on that she suspected he might have bruised it, but she got his point just fine. It wasn't the best sales pitch, but then he didn't know she needed him either.
"Danse, I get that you're in a tight spot, but you're not really selling the whole storm the factory idea to me. We did just get done saving your ass!" Sam pointed out. She wasn't going to risk their lives again for anything less than the damn power armour she'd come for.
"You're right of course, you've already gone above and beyond. But you're a smart woman, surely you can see what it's like out there. The Commonwealth is dying, slowly." He replied apparently trying to appeal to her sense of duty.
"Those survivors out there can't survive indefinitely. It's only a matter of time before they are wiped out. No militia, however well your General has prepared them, is going to be able to stand against that!" he pointed out what she and Jack had already begun to realise in the slow encroachment of the Wasteland back into their Settlements, no matter how they defended them.
"You want to make a real difference?" he eyed her shrewdly, "… you want to survive? Do something that means a damn? Then the Brotherhood of Steel can be an ally." He declared rousingly.
Sam smirked, suppressing most of glee at having pretty much just got the in she'd been looking for without so much as asking for it. "You know yours isn't the first recruitment speech I've heard. But at least the last one came with dental and apparently a 200 year retirement plan," She made a show of rolling her eyes and looking wholly disinterested, hoping it masked the way her heart had started pounding and her hands trembled slightly with adrenalin. He was taking the bait, hook line and sinker as Jack would say. He was practically inviting her in the damn door.
Danse stepped up and towered over her, less intimidating now he was out of the suit but still plenty. There was just something so real and present about him, like the strength of his convictions gave him a different type of gravity, all his own. It was inspiring actually to see that men like this still existed out here, men like her father she realised quietly to herself, finally putting her finger on what it was about Danse that felt familiar. It was the self-assurance, the sense of authority innate to his frame.
"Yeah I know how it sounds. And you've done your time I get that. But your out here now, and I'm not a fool enough not to see that you and your husband have clearly got skills, leadership ability, training obviously, plus an experienced military background." Danse told her firmly, clearly not above flattery. "I'll be blunt, we need people like you. And I guarantee you we aren't some backwater farmers playing at soldiers. We can be your brothers and sisters. Have your back out here. Give you a home, and a purpose. With us you can make a real difference to the Commonwealth, not just here but across the entire country." he declared and she could definitely admit had she not wanted in already she might have been swayed by that speech.
"Come with me out there, prove to me you're exactly the type of soldiers I think you are and I'll personally recommend you to Elder Maxson." he puffed out his chest. "In fact, I'd be willing to stake my reputation by inducting you both as Field Initiates right now if you come through on this for me."
Sam found it hard to ignore an offer like that and she didn't bother to hide her smile this time. The Wasteland might be a shithole, but it didn't lack for opportunities to demonstrate their skills. "Alright Paladin, I'd hate to have had you waste a hell of a speech like that. We'll come take a tour with you. But just so you know, I'm giving you the chance to prove you're the kind of soldier we want on our team too."
They shook on it and she made her way back inside the Police HQ to the 'jail cells' that were doubling up as a barracks. They had mattresses so she supposed that worked. Jack had staked out one in the cell opposite from Haylen's. There was no sign of Rhys so she hoped he was on watch as 'punishment', and to cool the hell off. She took it all in as she entered.
"Homey." she commented to Jack, relieved to find him looking a lot less like he wanted to shoot something as he lay casually on the bed. Only she wasn't fooled. He might look calm but she knew he'd have been worrying about her off in 'hostile' territory like she was. She could see the fingers on his chest tapping out a quick beat… frustrated energy spooling from them. She needed to find him a ball out here or something to help when he got restless… not for the first time she wondered if she could ask MacReady to whittle him a yoyo she could string.
"Isn't it." Jack replied, lifting his hands behind his head to hide them, his legs crossed, the picture of casual disinterest rather than primed tension. "I was thinking throw pillows … a rug or two." She crossed to the bed and shoved his feet down, making room for herself as she squeezed into the non-existent spot between the wall and him, budging him over. Sam liked to be enclosed when she slept, which suited him because he hated to feel trapped.
"I take it we're camping out here for the night." She quirked an eyebrow at his assumption. After all, it wasn't like Jack to just bed down without having one eye on the exits. She doubted he'd sleep.
"There's a bed, this mattress has some spring left, we've got shelter and food. Plus a guy with a gun and bad attitude to watch our asses. Seemed like as good an idea as any." he shrugged. "You fix Danse's suit?" He lifted his arm as she nuzzled in beside him and pulled her in close.
"Of course," she replied, "I fully pimped his ride." She yawned, surprised how tired she'd gotten. Sam turned into his body and pressed her lips to his skin, kissing the skin just beneath his stubbled jaw; an easy way to hide her words as she spoke them against his pulse point. "He was impressed enough to let me tinker with the comms array. It's busted. They need parts, so he wants us to go on a field trip tomorrow with him, to prove our metal so to speak. I got the full recruitment drive." she informed him, her voice not going beyond his hearing as she tried to contain her excitement.
Jack nodded turning into her and pressed a kiss to her mouth before lowering his lips to trace a path to her ear. The whole movement designed to let them continue this private yet public chat, but she couldn't help but feel the flutter of arousal at the feel of his lips against her skin. "And we want to prove our metal to this guy… why?" he pressed, glancing down at her. She was carefully examining his chest, her hand splayed over his under things. His armour was piled neatly beneath the bed, which meant he was serious about trusting the set up here. She picked at the stitching on his shirt, one that he'd had darned a few times by one of the group back at the Castle because her skill set never had extended to needlework.
She let her hand run up to stroke the cheek and turned her head to his throat. "I think we should enlist with them." she rasped into the hollow there.
Jack sighed, his arm around her tightening fractionally. "Sam … what if they're all like that Rhys idiot?" he reminded.
"What if they're like Danse?" she countered and he frowned staring down at her, his dark eyes flashing in the candlelight that offered minimal lighting from the darkness that had swept in quickly. "He's willing to vouch for us, take us out as Brotherhood Initiate's. This could be our way in Jack. If we are responsible for helping them, this Elder of theirs will make us genuine Knights. With Knighthood … comes armour." She reminded him coyly; she knew she wasn't imagining the flash of interest in his eyes. Oh he liked the sound of that just fine she thought.
"I never pegged you for a Marine." he offered finally, but it wasn't a 'no'.
Sam smiled against his throat and slotted her body more firmly against his, her leg going over his hip, delighting in the tension she felt it create as his arm curved tighter around her. "Actually, I think they may be more Air Force than Army. They have Veritibirds Jack … that chopper type thing we saw downed outside Vault 111, and on the roof in Concord with the power armour." she replied. "According to Paladin Danse, we get that communications array working and the Prydwen will be able to locate them." She told him, revealing the information she'd managed to get out of Danse once she'd agreed to their little field trip.
"I hate to ask." he muttered, rubbing his forehead in his usual gesture of an oncoming tension headache when he sensed he was about to get swept up in one of her plans.
"It's a huge flying military base. Some sort of carrier vessel. Jack, a vessel like that could get us out of Boston … it could get us to Antarctica eventually if we need it."
"Ah." he replied, "Seems like you fixed up more than the armour." he pointed out and she thought she heard a flash of something else there. But his hand was curving around her ass distracting her and she let it go for now. "You realise that your basically wanting to give up a post where we've got power, position and security… to start at the bottom of the damn grunt ladder?"
He pointed out and she winced. Yeah that wasn't the most attractive part of this deal. "I doubt you'll stay a grunt for long and besides, at least this time we can see the damn ladder. We weren't even in the right room before." she told him, and he glared at her, not a big fan of the metaphors, clearly she was taking the wrong tact because he looked less convinced.
"I can't just abandon my Minutemen." he pointed out and she sighed; they'd discussed this before, granted not at length or to any satisfactory conclusion. Mostly because one or both of them had ended up shouting at the other; the whole situation too emotionally charged. But now they were here. The Brotherhood was in her grasp and they were one step closer to home.
"Jack, you've done more than you ever promised the Minutemen you would. You re-established their presence, secured them a base of operations, reconnected the settlements, created a thriving community that is working together rather than apart. You've said it yourself, you're bored. Whether you meant it or not you've put yourself back in a desk job again. The Minutemen need a politician now, not a General."
He winced. "Ah. And we both know that's not exactly my skill set, is it." He looked away, his eyes staring up at the roof and Sam reached back for his chin, not liking that he was clearly upset by this conversation.
"Jack. This isn't about whether or not you can talk the talk as well as you do everything else. Because I don't doubt you could. All I'm saying is that there are people who can step into the breach for you on this. You've got them to this point, no one else could have done that." He turned his face back to her finally and she pressed a gentle kiss to his chin. "But they'll survive without you now. That was the point wasn't it?" Sam implored him, it was an old argument, but it didn't hurt any less, because she knew how comfortable Jack felt with his militia; the family he'd built out here. But she'd always tried to warn him that it had to be temporary. If they were ever going to get out of here, he couldn't afford to put all their eggs in one basket or form attachments like that. She knew he knew that, but it didn't make it any easier. Especially when she knew he let her throw her snowballs, but didn't necessarily think she'd hit anything with them.
"Flatterer." he growled rolling them so she was suddenly pressed beneath him, "Is this the part where you seduce me right into joining the damn Army for you?" His words were teasing and she could see the quirk of his lips, but he was genuinely asking, and she definitely wanted to rise to that particular challenge. Sam glanced across at the sleeping, or at least silent form of Scribe Haylen on the bunk in the cell across the Hall. Why was it they were always finding themselves in communal sleeping arrangements with no damn doors? It made the previous sexual tension of the last few years seem almost tame in comparison. Now she knew exactly what she was missing and it was torture.
"Well, I did seduce you into wearing that little loincloth for me, power armour should be a cinch." she teased smirking up at him, her thigh lifting just a little to feel exactly how much he was enjoying the feel of her beneath him.
"Amongst other things." he muttered, and she saw in his eyes that there wasn't much he wouldn't do for her. "You think you have me wrapped around your finger don't you? … that you can just bat those big beautiful blue eyes at me and I'll fold." She gave him a look knowing that was exactly it and quirked an eyebrow at him in smug satisfaction.
"Oh, hell no!" he groaned, "you don't get to look at me like that and not do something about it. Get out of bed and follow me. Now." He ordered.
He opened his mouth and she pressed her fingers to his lips. "Shhh." Jack grinned around them and dragged her up to her feet. Sam took his hand and pulled him with her, her heart beating somewhat wildly in her chest as she glanced back at him, seeing the same excitement and lust in his eyes as she knew had to be in hers. She pulled him into an old office and shut the door. He had her pressed against the wall in seconds and she gasped at the feel of him. She clutched at his shoulders and tugged his head down to her mouth as she kissed him.
"Why is it, stealing away to kiss my own damn wife feels like I'm back in high school, trying to kiss the pretty girl under the bleachers?" he rasped against her throat and she groaned at the feel of his hands making quick work of her pants and his own.
"Oh, I'd say you had a little more in mind than just a kiss." She grinned, pressing a line of them down his jaw. "At least I hope so."
"I had some thoughts." he groaned as he lifted her up around his hips and she clung on as his lips found her ear, "very naughty ones." In one thrust he was inside her. It wasn't elegant, but it was effective and she clutched him to her tightly as he held her there, feeling every inch of him moving inside of her. Fucking against a mostly crumbling wall, in a filthy mothballed old police station, squirrelled away in some office trying to stifle the sounds she was making. It shouldn't have felt anywhere near as romantic as it did, yet, she was practically halfway to coming from the moment he'd shut the damn door. She'd long since abandoned any notions of perfect romantic moments out here. There was just stolen time together and it could be more than enough.
"God, I love you." he growled thrusting into her sharply, his fingers clutched her ass. As his lips found hers, she had a moment when everything seemed to go white and she came hard around him. Her hips stuttering and her fingers clutching at him until he was right there with her.
"I love you too." she promised burying her hands in the hair at the back of his head, holding him to her for another moment or two, not wanting to release the feeling of being with him as she felt their breathing calm together, as his tongue tangled with hers.
"We should go back to bed. Big day tomorrow, we're enlisting remember." he told her, cupping her face to press a more chaste kiss there. Sam was certain she heard the rumble of something else … she'd spent years going on missions with this man, she knew what his pre-op adrenalin felt like.
"See, I knew you were excited about it." She grinned and he nipped her lip.
"Hoorah!" he rasped against her ear.
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Turns out the mission to 'prove their metal', as Sam had called it when she'd relayed the plan to him last night, wasn't all that hard Jack mused not wanting to admit he was slightly disappointed about that. Danse was well armed and well trained, and he and Sam were old hats at this now. Even if the damn place had been swarming with Synths of all things. It was the first time he'd gotten a good look at these suckers (other than Valentine) that everyone was so up in arms about. Personally, he'd been expecting a little more. They looked like mannequins. Although they were fast and tended to have better aim than a Raider. Jack found the proper robots much more difficult to subdue and slightly more terrifying when they were coming at you with a blowtorch or a spinning cutting tool. These guys had some fancy energy weapons that didn't pack that much of a punch if he was honest. Sam had still grabbed a rifle and a pistol variety to examine later; her first real look at the Institute tech, or so she'd reasoned based on its completely different energy signature.
His standard combat armour seemed to be absorbing most the damage when they did get a lucky shot on him. Ok, so maybe he had to admit that their aim was a lot better than a Raider's. They moved fast too and damn unnaturally. He was sure he'd just watched one run sideways across a wall, the other crawling on the ceiling … creepy. Like their hands and legs were used interchangeably, which was doubly creepy.
In the end it had been a little like shooting fish in a barrel as they'd drawn them all towards them, in a large central chamber inside the missile silo, complete with an actual missile. Sam had restored the power and quickly ordered Jack and Danse to dive inside the control room. Then she'd hit a big red button and managed to fry most of them inside the engine room with a well-timed blast of ignition. He and Danse had stood side by side and watched with some satisfaction as the Synth's melted, from the safety of the control room window.
"Very creative." Danse admitted, shaking his head as he gave Sam a once over, perhaps deciding once and for all, not to get on her bad side. Which was good, because if Jack had to listen to one more person question her worth or her damn humanity, he thought he might lose it. His fingers still clenched with unmitigated fury at that little twerp calling her a whore. He honestly had no idea how he hadn't knocked the guy out. It was a good job he'd been almost killed only moments before or his sense of fair play might not have held up.
"That's Carter." he settled on. "Creative is her middle name …" Jack quipped responding to Danse's comment as the doors slid open and he was met with the stench of burning plastic. "Oh that's nasty," he gagged, as he wiped his nose in an attempt to clear away the smell of burnt plastic, as they picked through the littered body parts, with Sam scavenging components here and there. The Transmitter was on the roof. Easy enough to get to now they had a working lift, which was an eerie experience to be stood outside, having pressed the call button, waiting for it to come. Once inside Sam glanced at him as he stood, hands in his pockets, whistling as it rose through the floors. The relatively clean white environment just making it seem more surreal.
"I miss the music." he admitted finally, giving her a look and seeing the sad little smile flicker onto her lips. Clearly, she was feeling the same strange mix of nostalgia and weirdness to be in something as mundane as a lift again. They'd had some of their weirdest conversations in lifts he recalled uneasily.
"Just don't move around too much," she warned, "it's not been active in 200 years. God knows what the cables on this thing look like… or the breaks." she added for good measure and Jack deliberately grabbed the handrail.
"Noted." he muttered wishing she hadn't mentioned it at all, or that the building they'd chosen wasn't so damn high.
After that, all that was left to do was hoof it back to their base. Jack watched as Sam installed the transmitter on the roof of the Cambridge police station. Danse and Rhys were watching her intently too. He didn't miss the heated conversation they shared with Rhys later drifting away looking deeply unimpressed. Jack would have to keep a close eye on him, not that he wasn't already after those thinly veiled threats he'd made. Although the idea of that idiot attacking Carter, whilst not laughable, was certainly stupid. She'd have him on his ass before he could even think it. Although he hadn't told Sam, because he figured she was already on a hair trigger with Rhys, and mostly thinking about it made him sorely wish he'd put a bullet in him again; the asshole had crossed paths with him on the way down to the cells before Sam had reappeared where they'd bunked. Told him none too subtly, that if he loved his 'wife', then he should mark up her face so she looked less like a damn Synth. He'd buried his fist in the asshole's gut and left him gasping on the floor for that. But it wasn't the first time someone had the nerve to suggest that to him. Like it was his damn decision. The first time he'd heard it had been from one of the damn Minutemen back in the early days of the Castle, when the rumours about her were rife. Preston had mostly tried to squash it but that suggestion had made its way to his ears. He'd nearly taken the bastard's head off for suggesting it then too; he would have had Preston not got him out of his sight and Castle.
Apparently, it was a common practice in some of the settlements to disfigure the young and attractive, not just for fear of Synths, but as a deterrent in general for life out here. It 'invited' Raiders or so the idiot had said as Jack had introduced him to his fist. Jack thought the same now as he had back then, and had for a long time. It was a barbaric idea, and he sorely wished he hadn't encountered that kind of thinking back home as well once upon a dark time. Fuck, he hated this place. Hated more the fact that a part of him considered it for a fraction of a second, like it was somehow his fucking right, and that made him hate himself a little more. He shouldn't get to decide for her and it shouldn't be something she had to think about 'ever'. Especially as it was fucking pointless. No scar was going to make Sam unattractive. He'd told her before, bald, breastless and scarred and she'd still be beautiful. Which was what made her so damn dangerous out here.
Rhys left heading back down from the roof, giving him a look as he went followed by a nod. Jack returned it, not caring that this asshat had decided they were okay now they'd proven useful. He wouldn't be trusting him. But he got it, don't trust till it's been earned and don't expect much of people. It's what kept you alive out here, but damn did it suck.
"We good?" he voiced when Sam and Danse walked over deep in discussion. Danse glanced up, as if surprised to find him there for a moment. He'd clearly been absorbed in whatever Sam was telling him.
"More than good General. Or should I say Knight-Initiate O'Neill." He nodded, "I'd like to welcome you both into the Brotherhood of Steel … probationary basis of course. Only the Elder can confer full Knight status." The big man looked pleased and Jack took that at face value. He knew what it was like to find a couple of soldiers that could hold a gun the right way up and keep your back safe in a fight.
Jack nodded when no one spoke. "Cool." He rocked on his heels. "There a ceremony? We need to swear on some bible?" he deflected, staring at Sam, wanting to be sure that this was what she really wanted, that these people where were she wanted to be. Because they'd got a good thing going back at the Castle. Friends, almost family, he thought. And he had his responsibilities … ones he'd give up in a second if Sam wanted out. But there was food and security; two things not to be just given up lightly out here. This unknown airship with these military fanatics seemed like a risk to him. Even if it had quite elegantly bought them their first real taste of this Institute and the Synth threat.
Sam gave him a nod, her eyes promising a longer discussion when they had the time. He sighed … hell or highwater he supposed.
Danse continued on oblivious to their little non-verbal agreement. "When the Prydwen arrives, you will be introduced and inducted into the Order by Elder Maxson. There you can officially declare fealty to the Brotherhood, should you wish it. Otherwise, you can go on your way, recognised as worthy of our ranks but not bound to our ways."
Jack absorbed that. "I dunno … I just never really saw myself as joining the Army at this stage in my career." he replied, half meaning his glib response, but mostly it was to make Sam snort, her lips curling up delightfully. God, he loved her face. Marking it up wasn't happening, not that it was his decision but he'd fight her on it if she looked to be considering it.
"It's more like a joint-defence force Sir. And it's an airship coming for us. Surely that's Air Force enough for you." she pointed out again, that pesky 'Sir' back on her lips, which he caught her eye about with an eyebrow quirk but she stared back pointedly. He nodded; there she went again with the sales pitch about the Air Force. She really wanted him on board with this he realised.
"Oh yes. You're a Pilot." Danse mused. "My apologies perhaps I should have gone with Lancer-Initiate O'Neill."
That didn't sound good. "Lancer, as in he who fights … boils?" Jack groused. "Pass. If there's Knighthoods' being handed out I'm going to stick with one of those."
"It's what they call their Vertibird Pilots Jack." Sam explained and he gave her a look. Apparently she was something of an expert now and he wondered just how much time she and Danse had been discussing the Brotherhood whilst she'd patched up his suit.
"Yeah I'm still going to pass. My flying days are done." he admitted and Danse followed him down the concrete steps back inside.
"That's a shame … Initiate Carter was telling me how you once piloted experimental rocket ships that she'd designed." he offered and Jack gave Sam a 'did she now' look which she just stared back at him for blandly.
"I was rather hoping you might share your expertise with our other Initiates'."
Jack snorted, "Oh I'll share with the little whippersnappers all you want about my Yoda like flying skills." he replied, seeing the reference go over his head as expected, but it amused him anyway, and Sam, whose eyes were sparkling with unvoiced laughter.
"But I'll do it as a newly Knighted O'Neill. Besides General to Knight sounds like a step up, General to Lancer sounds like I got stuck on latrine duty."
Danse looked at him without a flicker of good humour, as though nothing in that statement had computed. "Wow. Tough crowd." he admitted as Danse disappeared off and Sam came to stand next to him, shaking her head ruefully as she placed her head on his shoulder, burying her grin.
"What is it with that guy? Reckon it would kill him to crack a smile now and then?" Jack sighed. Something about the guy just gave him the creeps, had from the start. He'd thought it was the Jarhead thing, but maybe it was the blackhole of a funny bone he was sensing.
Sam patted his chest and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I thought you were funny … Sir." she murmured, that smirk on her lips reminding him of just how she'd liked to use that word now.
"So Initiate, want to go find an empty office and make out again before we're officially on the same squad again?" He slipped an arm around her waist. "I hear that you have something of a thing for fraternising with your Commanding Officers."
Sam turned and gave him a shit eating grin. "And what makes you think you'll be outranking me anytime soon … Initiate." She stalked away in those tight leather pants of hers, tossing her long blonde hair out of her cap and generally looking like a perfectly good reason to get Court Martialled, if they still did that.
"That wasn't a no!" he called after her, deciding he probably deserved that quip.
She glanced back at him that twinkle of excitement and mischief he loved so much sparking. "No … it wasn't. Sir."
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AUTHORS END NOTES:
Here's the promised Synth explanation then for those wondering. You can also read about it here: wiki/Synth
There are different types of synths:
Gen-1 are basically androids they look like machines.
Gen-2 are androids with an artificial skin layer (they look plastic tbh). Valentine is a Gen-2 for example but he's uniquely memory stamped with a personality from the human whose brain they copied/downloaded.
Gen-3 these are based on human DNA and the FEV virus they are indistinguishable from humans down to the cellular level, they are born fully grown in a lab. The only way to tell Is that they have synth components most notably in their brain (a chip) that means they can be programmed/commanded - they can also be used to give them memory stamps etc so they can assume their fake lives. They don't need to eat or sleep (but they can). wiki/Synth
Unfortunately Sam cutting her hand (ala Tin-Man like Jack did) to prove she bleeds 'red', wouldn't prove anything that's why it's so insidious and the accusation so difficult to shake, the Gen-3s really could replace anyone and with a memory stamp to help them assume their fake lives, who would know? I do mention it coming up but Piper was right the Diamond City mayor was replaced with a synth! It's the escaped Gen-3s that the Railroad are trying to 'free' from what they consider slavery sometimes these blank slate Gen-3s stumble out and the Railroad stamp them with a new set of memories etc and send them on their merry way, often non the wiser about what they are. Kind of like Cylon skinjobs if your familiar with BSG. They really can become your neighbour.