A/N: Weeeee're back! With another installment of when worlds collide! Now it's been a looooong time coming, but I think I've dragged this out long enough (or maybe I wasn't able to think up any more ways to procrastinate) but here we are. The Institute. Now rest assured I won't leave you all on a cliffhanger like I did with the ambush, I'm not that mean. So, sit back, relax, leave a review if you're so inclined, and enjoy!
Chapter 25: Shaun
As expected, constructing the relay took longer than Tinker Tom estimated. Nate offered his help (and mine) several times, but the Railroad engineer turned it down. I was more than content allowing him to build the contraption on his own, and not just because I don't know anything about building a 'teleporter'. The longer it takes for him to build it, the longer until we have to use it. The notion may have been childish; not many things worry me, but trying this did. Whatever this technology is, it's how the UNSC dropped me into this hellhole, and no one here has any clue if it will work.
Though, after the first three days of sitting in the Railroad's underground headquarters, I was about ready to burst. There was only so much time I could spend listening to Nate, Cassandra, and Julian talk. They would pull me in from time to time; there were a few times they tried to get me to play some card game Nate taught the other two. It was similar to something I've seen other SPARTANs play, I think it's called Poker, but, just like then, I had no interest.
Cassandra and Thomas were handling the situation incredibly well. I guess I shouldn't expect anything less considering what they've been through thus far, but guilt still pounded away at my conscience every moment I spent around them. I still failed, and I haven't gotten Julian back.
Despite all of that, I enjoyed their company. Most of the Railroad members were still wary of me, so they kept their distance. Deacon came by and played a few hands with them the second day, and the man who had been with them when we returned made a point of sitting in daily, but they were the only ones.
By the time I sat against the stone wall in our makeshift quarters the third night, I needed to do something. I'm not meant to be idle, I don't like sitting in my ass. Sneaking around enemy emplacements for days at a time, scouting them, probing for points of entry, establishing a plan of attack, and finally executing was the closest I came to this. Even then, I knew there was some payoff at the end. Here, I'm stuck until Tom finishes his… contraption.
Dammit. This sucks. How long has it been since I've had nothing to do? The month before I was attached to Fourier's squad came to mind, but at least then I could work out, train, read- something. Hell most of the books they had were basic survival skills and training manuals, none of which were interesting. Tom had his own material on theoretical physics, quantum mechanics, and other advanced subjects, but I don't have the background knowledge to understand any of it. And he probably wouldn't let me read them if I asked.
The boredom would stretch on, and on until he was done. The thought of being cooped up in this goddamn cave again tomorrow was aggravating.
My clock read 2245, I wasn't sleeping; I haven't done anything and I've slept the last two nights.
I stood and left the small alcove. But where am I going to go? There's nothing to do in the cave, and since I returned, they've been extremely anal about security, not that it isn't warranted. They're about to (possibly) send Nate and I to infiltrate the Institute, extra caution makes sense.
That doesn't mean I don't hate the thought of being in here for the next week plus.
One of the Railroad agents was, as usual, sitting on the far side of the main chamber, facing me. This time it was the sniper who had escorted Deacon to our meeting. Her eyes were glued on me, hand not quite on the sniper rifle beside her. She wouldn't do anything, at least if she's smart.
Working out in Mjolnir armor is basically pointless with its powered assist and besides, there wasn't enough room to do anything more than stationary exercises. No one to spar, hell, not even a shooting range to occupy myself with. What do people do when there's nothing around? 'Small talk' share's a spot with 'acid burns' on the list of things I don't enjoy.
What about the Brotherhood? I spent two days scouting their perimeter, I know their rough numbers and equipment from Proctor Ingram's tour, and I've seen how they fight. I could spend some time putting a strategy together, but that won't take me a week. No reason to not do it.
So that's what I spent the next few hours doing. I slowly paced around the enclosure, running potential plans of attack through my head, ruling out most ideas. The issue was resources available. I've engaged similar size forces, but that's been with artillery support, air cover, or plenty of explosives. Yeah, there's a lot you can do with a few well placed charges.
Or a lot of well placed charges in one instance.
That op was one of the more memorable ones. It was shortly before I was put on 'leave' and integrated into Fourier's squad. That was the Freedom and Liberation Party again, and even after my first deployment against those bastards, I still had a bone to pick with them. It was one of their few remaining strongholds in early 2556, and one of the only operations my handlers let me plan from start to finish. Thinking back on it, they probably knew it would be my last solo deployment.
Regional command tapped ONI for a 'solution' because the FLP made a habit of staying mobile, and this intel was something they wanted to act on ASAP. I'd just finished another operation in a nearby system, and it all happened to work out.
Well for me it did.
The target was a well fortified position deep in the wilderness of Mamore. They must have thought it ironic to set up on a planet they'd nuked before the beginning of the War. Or they just thought they wouldn't be found. The force wasn't the same strength as the Brotherhood's, I think estimates were around 750, but they had better tech, and a better position.
We didn't have access to any additional forces besides a detachment of ONI operators and three D77H-TCI Pelicans. The planet had a local militia, but I didn't want to take the risk of a plant leaking our intel. My handlers agreed. Once that was ruled out, it turned into a high speed operation.
I decided to keep it simple. The Prowler had a mini-MAC on it. While the projectile wouldn't have the punch to damage any hard targets once it dug through the atmosphere, what it would do is throw up a massive amount of dust and debris when it impacted. That would disrupt any passive surveillance systems. And raise hell in the base. The Pelicans would be able to come in low and fast, drop the operatives a half kilometer south of the base, hammer any hard targets with Anvil II's, and move to an on station cover position with minimal risk.
The night before the operation, I inserted by drop pod 20 klicks north of the target, carrying a few dozen kilograms of C-10 explosives. It gave me the opportunity to lay eyes on the target prior to the operation which is something I almost always did. Satellite images, thermal or radar scans, and the like are good, but for someone who's spent over a decade training and fighting in these situations, studying the objective in person isn't replaceable.
Our intel was good, and even on short notice the Prowler's crew did a phenomenal job scrubbing every square millimeter of the base, so I called a go. Just after the first MAC round hit, I slipped into the chaos enveloped target. By the time the fifth and final hypersonic projectile landed, I'd seeded 30 of the small, high explosive cubes throughout the base and may have taken the liberty of eliminating some of their active guard on the way.
15 seconds later, the Pelican wing hammered the central structure and, in tandem, I set off the C-10 charges. That really made a mess. My support squad maintained position on the south side of the base, making as much noise and chaos as possible to draw attention while I slipped the knife in their backs. Literally in some cases.
It wasn't 10 minutes later when I captured their base commander, and from that point they called a surrender.
All told, there were just over 250 casualties, 150 of them deaths, about 60% of which happened during the Pelicans' straffe and the initial wave of C10 detonations. A half dozen soldiers, three pelicans, a MAC gun, and me. Not too bad for taking down a base of almost 1000 Innies.
I don't have any of that here.
But it did give me a few ideas.
A quiet step brought my attention back to the cave's interior and I found Nate walking my direction. He looked exhausted.
"Can't sleep", the smaller man said as he stopped beside me, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "I'd rather be back in the Glowing Sea with a Deathclaw trying to tear me in half than sitting here doing nothing."
That was a fun fight.
"Didn't sound like you enjoyed it at the time."
He cast me a sideways glance. "Yeah, only a psychopath would enjoy a fight like that." The smaller man's face was serious, but his voice was playful.
That might be me regardless.
"Or someone who knows how to handle themselves in a fight."
The ex-soldier snorted. "Low blow. Not all of us can be as great as you Damon." When he continued, his voice was somber. "This is different though. I'm terrified."
"More than with the Deathclaws?"
"Yeah, I've got you for Deathclaws." The smile he offered was sickly. "I just- I've been thinking about all this. What am I going to do when we get there? When I get Shaun back? That's… assuming whatever Tom's building works."
And assuming they surrender Shaun back to you him.
That made sense. We've spent the last two months running from one side of this hellscape to another trying to get to the Institute, to get back to his son. Now that we're so close and all he can do is sit here, waiting for someone else.
But what I didn't understand is the question, or at least the reason for it. What is he supposed to do? "What do you mean?"
He looked confused. "I mean what am I going to do? I've been so focused on this I haven't thought about- what am I supposed to do? This place, my home, my- my world. Everything's gone."
Oh.
What is he supposed to do? There are plenty of things he could do, but after whatever happens at the Institute happens, it's up to him to figure that out. I know what I'm going to do, short term, if the Institute can and will help me return to my reality, but I doubt he'd want to risk fighting the Brotherhood just after getting his son back. If anything, I'd be disappointed if he did. He's all his kid has, and his kid is all he has. As much as he wants to help Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian, we've passed the realm of diplomacy. There's an old saying: violence is just the natural continuation of politics. We're at that part of the program. That fight is going to be rough, I can't let him risk his life when he has to look after Shaun too. Maybe the four of them go to Sanctuary while I handle the Brotherhood? I don't know.
"Look after Shaun."
Relief, sadness, reluctance, determination, and something underneath I couldn't identify played out across my friend's face.
"I don't know if I'm happy or upset to hear you say that."
"You served for a long time, and then your world blew itself to hell. This fight is going to get ugly, and I can't guarantee you'll survive." A memory of my father flashed through my head, a new one: him carrying me on his shoulders through a crowd of people, a market I think. I was laughing. "Don't risk your life when you don't need to. You've been shot twice now, once almost fatally. Your son needs you."
He paused, studying me with a new expression: understanding. "You're saying that because… I get it." The smaller man's eyes dropped to the ground beneath his feet. "You don't want me to put myself in danger right after getting him back. Believe me, more than anyone, I want to settle down with Shaun and try to build some sort of a life in this screwed up world but- Julian- I can't leave him with the Brotherhood. I can't let Cassandra and Thomas keep hurting." He smirked. "And even though you're an infuriating bastard, I don't want to sit on my ass while you're running all over Boston trying to get Julian back. And trying to stop the Brotherhood from making this place even worse.
That I could understand. I hate leaving things up to other people; I learned to live with it since the intel officers and handlers I worked with generally put target packages together, but it's always been difficult. I'm asking Nate, someone who is used to being the one on the front line doing things to put his and his child's future in my hands. More than that, I'm asking that immediately after helping reunite them.
But that's why I didn't want him coming along. His almost insistence on it was irritating me in a very new way.
"Why are you trying to put yourself in the center of a fight that could get you killed?"
Nate looked back at the alcove where Cassandra and Thomas were sleeping. "I don't want to leave things the way they are and just… live with it. If you haven't noticed, this place kinda sucks. Then when you leave… however things are for us when you do, it's probably going to stay that way. You give me, the people in Sanctuary, Cass, Thomas, and Julian, all of us the opportunity at something better, and I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to help." He met my gaze, a wry smile on his face. "Plus that'll suck because after everything, I finally started liking you." The smile fell away. "And…" He paused again, considering whatever was running through his head. "... I think under everything, you're a really good person Damon. I'm glad I got to meet you. Nora- she would like you. A lot."
That caught me off guard, washing my irritation away in a wave of surprise. What do I say? I'm a good person? A lot of dead people would disagree with that. A lot of dead people I've killed without a second thought.
But… does that make me a bad person? Even now as I rethink everything? Probably, but he's the second person who's said that now. Ellie said something similar when we were in Diamond City. Am I really the best judge of character? Do I have any right to give voice to the countless people I've killed? No. I don't, and I'm not the right person to say either way.
Maybe I should listen to them.
It wasn't something I'm equipped to answer, but the sentiment was nice. There are more important things to consider than my questionable morality. He's relying on me- hoping I can help give him and his kid the opportunity to live better than the scarce, subsisting existence these people suffer through day to day.
More than that, I want to do that for them. I want to do that for Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian. For Sanctuary. But what can I do? I kill people, that's what I'm good at.
By trying.
By trying…
"Don't worry about me", I said, breaking the thin silence that had draped itself over the chamber. "I don't intend to leave until I'm satisfied you'll all be safe."
"You- what does that mean?"
"I'm sticking around until I've settled things."
The ex-soldier's paused for a beat, considering what that meant before a breath hitched in his throat and he let out a quiet sob. He looked at the ground, covering his face with a hand.
"Thank you", he struggled out.
Like Cassandra, he's been holding it together the best he can because he has to, because he doesn't have anything else. Now that we're so close, his composure was breaking. That's something I can understand too. It's something I've been figuring out myself.
This time- this time I felt the gratitude radiating from the smaller man, struggling to keep his emotions in check.
And I smiled. This wasn't just a job. I was invested in a way I never thought I could be. Yeah, I wanted to do this for him, for the kids- hell, for the people in Sanctuary. I may only be good at killing people, but if I do that right, I can give these people the opportunity at a better life.
If I have that chance, I'm going to take it.
"You're welcome."
X
Nate helped me convince Desdemona to allow two scouting runs to the Brotherhood's base of operations. They knew if given the chance, the tech hoarding cultists would either wipe them out or use them to get to the Institute. If they could get information on this new enemy without risking any of their own people, and I could make sure I wouldn't reveal their position, that was a no lose situation for them.
This was different from the first time around; I wasn't spending time on my own because I was too immature to handle the situation at their headquarters. Nate and I had a long conversation about it that night, discussing how I could best use whatever time I have left here to secure their safety. The Brotherhood was by far the number one threat, and since they have Julian, no matter what, they had to go first.
Since I'd be so close to their base of operations, it gave me the worst odds of picking up a tail, so I took a few extra precautions. The simplest, and probably most effective, is entering the subway system about a half klick away from where Deacon normally did and wait six hours. The second precaution I took, on Desdemona's insistence, was the net of Railroad operatives waiting in the burned out towers around said entrance.
Given those two additions to my habitual practices, it would be almost impossible for anyone to follow unnoticed.
It didn't surprise me when no one had the first time, but I respect and appreciate the operational security. On my way back to the base, I took the time to stop by the safehouse we left Curie in. She seemed content. Content enough that, when I knocked on the door, she shouted an annoyed "who is it?"
After identifying myself, the Synth swung the door open with an equally annoyed expression. "Is there something I can do for you?"
I shook my head. "It's been a week. I wanted to make sure things are still secure."
"Yes, yes I'm fine." Curie glanced back into her temporary hideout. "I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a very sensitive, time intensive process going on at the moment culturing a new-" she smiled, "actually you've got good timing, come in!"
"Why?" I asked, head cocked.
"I need a second set of hands for a moment." She stepped out of the doorway.
My eyes narrowed. I'm not a scientist.
What else do I have to do?
Get back to the Railroad.
That isn't time sensitive, and I'm early as it is.
So?
But I couldn't lie to myself, I was interested in whatever project she had going on.
I shrugged and followed her into the safehouse where it looks like she set up a small lab. Damn, I helped her pack some of this, but it was small wonder the bag I carried was so large. A small centrifuge, microscope, cooler, several pieces of equipment I didn't recognize, and even a computer that looked a lot like Nate's Pipboy.
When we got to the small station, I noticed a tray with several sealed containers, Petri dishes, and a rack of capped vials.
"I need you to load these into the centrifuge and pull them as soon as they're done", Curie said, pointing to the vials. "The bacteria I'm testing need a very specific protein I'm trying to separate-" she glanced up at me. "Do you understand any of this?"
I shrugged. "Vaguely." I'd found some time and materials to read up on basic biology and chemistry, but it wasn't something I've had much use for. Mixing compounds that go boom are about as far as I've gone. Part of survival craft is identifying helpful flora, whether that be for nutrition, medicinal, or poisonous applications, and I took the time to learn what chemicals present and what they're used for, but this is way beyond that.
"Do you know what a centrifuge does?"
"Separates a liquid into its basic components." That was pretty simple.
"Good, at least there's that. I'm guessing you haven't used one before."
"No", I shook my head, "I don't suppose it's very difficult to figure out."
"Correct. There's a time input on the lid once you close it. Load the vials into the tray, make sure the caps are secure, and set it for 18 minutes."
… Okay. I hadn't expected to get involved in a science experiment coming here.
But I was certainly intrigued, so I played along.
20 minutes later, after she had separated whatever liquid components I'd given her into separate vials, she began preparing slides of the bacteria she was working on. It was genuinely interesting and, if I didn't also want to get back to the Railroad's base of operations, I would have stayed longer. As it was, I had to go, so I took my leave and began the subterranean journey back to the system of caves.
She seemed content and, with any luck, would stick around for a few weeks. I didn't know if I'd be able to deal with the Brotherhood that quickly, but figuring out how to get her and the kids up to Sanctuary shouldn't take long.
When I got back to the Railroad's headquarters, it was starting to get late and, not having slept the night prior, I was ready for some shut eye. Before I did though, I watched an… interesting competition between Nate and one of the Railroad agents. Cassandra and several other members seemed to be enjoying it too. They were both working out in a corner of the main cavern and, while I don't think it originally started as a competition, they were both swapping between sets of pushups and air squats as quickly as possible. Both were sweat soaked, but grim faced which was an amusing contrast with their trembling arms and legs.
"What", Nate half panted, half barked at me after he collapsed to the ground and the Railroad member doubled over, heaving.
"That was amusing."
"Wh- why?" The ex-soldier could barely talk.
I've watched regs try to compete with IVs in the weight room. I never understood if it was a point of pride, or the un-augmented soldiers wanted to see how they compare, but the other SPARTANs never gave an inch, and I don't think the regs would have appreciated if they had. Without fail, the regs left either shaking so bad they could barely walk, or helped out by whoever they convinced to come with them. I remember one time when medics had to haul a guy to the infirmary. I saw the IV sitting with him and his squad that night in the galley. Maybe she felt bad.
"Reminded me of something."
"Yeah? A- and what's that?" I glanced at the equally exhausted Railroad member and Nate's eyes lit up. "Well then you're telling me tonight."
Presumptuous bastard.
"Uh huh."
Later, once everyone besides our customary guard turned in, I did. There was no harm in telling them, Nate already knew about my reality, and Cassandra knew something was different about me.
"Did you ever join in?" Cassandra asked.
I shook my head.
Nate smirked. "Why? Scared you'd lose?"
"I'm not a social person."
Cassandra and Nate shared a smirk. "You hear that, Cass", the smaller man said, "Damon says he isn't social."
"Yeah, that sounds about right", she said.
Nate shot me a look of mock surprise. "I would never have guessed."
"Someone has to conserve oxygen."
His eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I talk too much?"
I cocked my head at him but didn't respond. Cassandra laughed and even Thomas smiled.
"Ass", he replied with another smirk. "So where do you think you'd rank?"
"What?"
"Well I'm curious. If there are a bunch of you out there, I can't imagine many people want to mess around with them."
Where would I rank? I've never cared to put any thought into it. I know IIs and IIIs tend to be more physically capable than IVs because our procedures occurred during our adolescence, but due to the purely chemical nature of the III's augmentations, the results varied far more widely than either the II's or IV's. Where would I rank? Well, all I know is I'm the most capable out of Fourier's squad; I tended to work out when the gyms were empty. Or as empty as they ever got. That became more difficult when Fourier, Amanda, and Liam insisted we do so together.
"I don't know. Every SPARTAN is an elite soldier, I don't think most people would notice a difference in competence outside of the most extreme situations."
"That sounds like you might be afraid."
Afraid of what? I operated alone for almost a decade, taking on impossible odds regularly. I have never, and will never stop getting better, but if I'm lacking in some area, that's news to me.
"Would you feel better if I killed more people?"
"GOD", Nate said, rolling his eyes before looking at Cassandra, "he's so boring sometimes."
She looked at me and smirked. "Maybe you two should see who can do more pushups."
The smaller man feigned a hurt expression. "Low blow."
She laughed.
With that, I decided to get some sleep.
The next two days were more of the same: sitting around, putting together a plan with the intel I have on the Brotherhood, and waiting. The recon trip hadn't revealed anything new; their patrols were still out in force, no away teams leaving or returning, and very few exploitable weaknesses.
Tom's progress on the relay was slow going, but he was at it almost every moment of the day. There were a few times while I was watching when Desdemona would practically drag the engineer away to get food or water. He was odd, but I can always appreciate dedication.
In contrast, Nate seemed to get more and more restless as the days dragged by. He was constantly hovering around the contraption, spending less time entertaining Cassandra and Thomas. They hung around me for the most part and, while I tried my best to keep them occupied, passing time is something I've never been very good at.
On the bright side, I learned more about the two of them: Cassandra grew up on a farm, from the sounds of it, not too far from the Finches. When I brought them up, she didn't recall if she knew the name. She hadn't been back that way in a while. The relatively short time she spent with Thomas and Julian's family was further southwest. Their parents were teaching her how to farm something called Mutfruit when the Supermutants attacked. The two younger kids were beginning to learn the basics of farming at the time as well, so they spent most of their days out in the field.
My thoughts kept dragging me back to my self assigned mission: how do I help them? Can I make a difference large enough to give them a more comfortable life? And the same goes for Nate and Shaun: if the Institute agrees to help me, how long will it take? And more than that, will I go back as soon as they're ready? My duty is to the UNSC, regardless of whether or not I had much choice in the matter, but I want to stay here at least long enough to help.
I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
On the morning of the third day, I moved back out to confirm a few more things I noticed the last time I reconned the airport. The first, and most important, was that they hadn't been flying any Vertibirds in or out of the perimeter. Several had been on patrol, but they weren't flying any sorties. I saw that the first time around too, but something I failed to notice was that it seemed like there were fewer in the airport than I remember. The second was probably an arrogant oversight, or really good bait; with the eastern edge of the airport set against the water, they had very few patrols in that area. It made sense if that water was irradiated. I haven't seen anyone with amphibious assault craft, or aircraft, so that approach was out unless you had protection against what was probably severe radiation.
After a few hours of very careful investigation, I confirmed the second, or at least as well as I could. Unless there were traps hidden in the pockmarked concrete, the area east of the airport was largely unguarded, save two patrols walking the area with overhead support from a Vertibird. Other surveillance measures like thermal imaging could be in play, but it seemed unlikely since their approach has been physical presence everywhere else.
My first suspicion was more difficult to verify considering I don't actually know how many VTOLs they had in the first place, or whether they had any hidden in hangars to keep them protected.
It was odd, not being able to communicate with my handlers or opcom. It was even weirder to not have either of those things to report back to. Even though most of the operations I'd run with Fourier's squad were more conventional, old habits die hard. The countless covert missions on my own doing this exact thing had drilled several procedures in my head, I had to actively focus on not doing them. Like conferring with intel officers about what I was seeing on the ground.
As I watched a Vertibird soar over the airport's perimeter, rotors pounding away at the air, a thought occurred to me: Maxson is smarter than I gave him credit for. Setting up a perimeter guard like this is static defense 101, but pulling any and all away missions, or requiring the ones in the field be self-sufficient was clever. It meant, even if I tracked any of them down, I didn't gain any leverage by disrupting or destroying them. It also meant they wouldn't be sending any support to those teams, so whittling them down wouldn't work either. Damn.
If this turns into a waiting game, the Brotherhood will run out of supplies. They know that, which means they're stalling until they either come up with a plan, or are conducting covert operations to effect one. In either case, the faster I deal with them the better.
I didn't stay long after that. With how close Tom (supposedly) was to completing the relay, I wanted to be around. The long trek back wasn't as productive as I'd hoped. My mind was being pulled in different directions, and I'm not used to that while planning operations. Thinking about Nate's question, what is he supposed to do after reuniting with Shaun, how I can secure Sanctuary, how to keep Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian (once I rescue him) safe. I realized why ONI handled me the way they did even if I despise it now that I look back; the less I'm concerned about, the easier it is for me to focus on my job. Whatever the case, I need to get my mind back in the right place to deal with the coming shit storm.
As I re-entered the city proper, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand: the Institute. The rest won't matter unless we can accomplish this part of the mission, and unfortunately, the critical part isn't up to me.
X
"I don't know what I'm more scared about", Nate said as we stood in the small kitchen, "finding Shaun or whether or not we're going to survive to find Shaun."
I glanced over his head at the relay. Tinker Tom was running back and forth between the gantry and his server like a hyperactive Kig-Yar. The urgency wasn't encouraging.
"Agreed."
The engineer had claimed he would be ready for transit the next day, and I felt an uncharacteristic nervousness. I've trusted my life to pilots, drop pods, and even squadmates, but this was the first time I've wished I didn't have to. Or at least didn't trust they were competent. The problem here is there's no alternative.
Cassandra was sitting at one of the small tables near us with Thomas. She was studying the odd looking machine too while the young boy fidgeted with a small device Tom had given him. He had said it was a laser module from one of the weapons Synths use. The kid looked intrigued by the small, rectangular box, even disassembling part of it to reveal the circuitry and focus lenses inside.
"That almost looks like something we'd put together on the farm", the teenager said.
Nate snorted. "Thanks for that vote of confidence."
"I'm just calling it like I see it." She shrugged and looked at me. "How you get to the Institute is up to you." She left the 'as long as I get Julian back' unsaid.
"I'd rather get to it through a door." Nate's voice was only half sarcastic.
"What's your plan once you get there?" That question was directed more at me than the ex-soldier.
"Offer my help in return for theirs. The Brotherhood is here to destroy them."
"Enemy of my enemy is my friend?"
Nate cocked an eyebrow at her. "Where did you hear that?"
"Don't remember, probably Goodneighbor."
"Huh", Nate mused.
CassandraFrowned. "Yeah, isn't that a bad strategy to rely on? You don't know if they need your help."
I've never taken part in negotiations, but I do know how the bureaucratic counterpart to many of my operations would drop insinuations about the alternative. Threatening violence wouldn't be necessary considering we would be there, and armed, but I learned more from the negotiations ONI never tried: if you don't have anything to offer the other side, they're going to take what they want and leave. That's what happened to the smaller, less capable Innie cells. No negotiations, just ultimatums: surrender or die. We don't have anything to offer besides intel and combat support (because they sure as hell aren't taking a look at me or my armor).
"If their leadership knows they'll be engaged with a large, hostile force, they'll take all the help they can get." If they're smart.
"Do you have a backup plan?"
Was I being interrogated by a civilian? Backup plan? Show them why they'd want my help. "Physical persuasion."
Nate grimaced. "He means that's when the shooting starts."
"I got that." She frowned again. "Are you sure that will work?"
I shook my head. "No. I don't have intel on the facility or their counter-intrusion measures."
"Well… if no one has ever gotten in…"
"We can't assume that changes how they operate."
There's no replacement for information, the more I have the better my chances, so if they decide to get aggressive, I'll need to be extremely careful. A good soldier is always prepared for anything.
"Have you ever done something like this before", Nate asked, his voice tinged with worry. I shared his concern.
"This type of operation? Yes. This type of insertion? No."
"Do you think you can do it?"
How the hell am I supposed to know? "Too many unknowns."
"You- right." He sounded immensely disappointed, and even Cassandra looked worried. They were both looking to me for reassurance. I am the insurance policy. Empathy is something I was starting to understand, but managing others' morale isn't.
"This is one of those moments it might be helpful to lie." I couldn't tell if Nate was joking.
"You need to be prepared as well."
Normally Nate, or even Cassandra, would have a retort. The lack of one spoke volumes about how nervous each of them were. Even if Cassandra wasn't coming through this wormhole to the Institute with us, this was her only chance to get Julian back. As focused as I was on reuniting the ex-soldier with his son, I need to keep the longer term objective in mind.
"What, if I need to start shooting too?" I nodded and he let out a quiet sigh. "Just brimming with confidence aren't you?"
I'm confident things almost never go to plan, and in this case we don't even have one.
"You don't need me to tell you to be ready for anything." It may have been in a more conventional role, but Nate had served longer than me. He's been in active combat zones, and we've travelled together for the past two months. He's nervous and looking for an outlet. I'm not the right person to give it to him.
"If you die because you weren't prepared, you deserved it", the smaller man said, bemused. I cocked my head at him. "Something my Lieutenant used to say. He was a mean son of a bitch."
He was also right. I didn't need to say that either, Nate's expression had shifted. The nervousness wasn't gone, but it had been joined by a determined, firm set in his jaw. Good.
The relay's construction was interesting, but I had no clue what Tom was doing, and looming over him as he worked wouldn't do anyone. Even though I didn't like not knowing what was happening, standing here I didn't either. While there weren't many things I could do to be productive, sleeping was a good idea. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.
I began toward the small alcove and settled myself into the near corner as had become customary. So many different things could happen tomorrow, it was useless to run them all through my head. And yet that's what was happening. Do I think fighting will be necessary? Maybe. Do I think I can fight my way out if I need to? Maybe. The number of question marks going into tomorrow would be unacceptable for most of my operations, but not all.
A few minutes later, the other three found their way into the makeshift sleeping quarters and wordlessly slipped into their cots. A tension was in the air that had been slowly turning itself up over the last week. It wasn't the first time I've sensed it, but it was the first time I've felt it myself. Regardless of the tactical situation, there are more important questions to be answered once we get to the Institute. That's what's actually bothering Nate.
And me.
I won't answer those questions sitting here, worrying about it.
Ain't that the truth. I leaned my head back against the cave wall and closed my eyes. Regardless of what happens tomorrow, at least I won't be doing this again.
Sleep came, eventually. It's hard when I haven't done anything for the past three days, but I needed to be fit for action once we went through that teleporter. I forced myself to relax, breathing as deep as I could while emptying my head of all the thoughts, doubts, and emotions that had been crowding it. Time for that was over, it's time to lock in and be ready.
I roused myself when the clock in my HUD read 0430. Nate wasn't far behind me.
Desdemona said they would be ready by 0600. I took the time to observe my customary pre-deployment rituals: checking armor systems, stripping cleaning, and reassembling my weapons, checking magazines, and repacking everything I'd be bringing to make sure it was sound secure. That last one probably wasn't necessary, I practiced sound discipline as second nature, but old habits die hard.
After downing a cup of coffee, the ex-soldier joined me, grim determination plastered on his face. It was the same look I'd seen when I first met him, the same look I'd seen on the faces of other SPARTANs and many regs before deploying. He was ready to do whatever he needed to to accomplish the mission. Doubly so since 'the mission' was his son. His hand were quick and calm as they ran themselves over his 7.62X51 mm combat rifle with a practiced ease. Nate had said that was similar to his service weapon? It showed. The man was about to dive head first into a complete unknown to get Shaun back, and he was cool and collected. That spoke volumes for a constitution I couldn't help but admire.
He looked up at me watching him as he slipped the sling over his head, loaded a magazine and chambered a round.
"I don't need to ask, do I?"
'Get Shaun out no matter what.'
I shook my head.
The smaller man gave me a curt nod.
A few minutes later Cassandra and Thomas quietly joined us, resuming our watch over Tinker Tom, sitting in front of the server furiously typing at its keyboard. He looked wired, but his face was beaming with excitement. I'm not sure if that was good or bad.
Desdemona, Deacon, and two other Railroad agents, and joined the engineer. After a moment, Deacon strode over to us looking almost as excited as Tom.
"This should be interesting."
"Only if it works", Nate said. "Is he ready?"
"He thinks so. Tom's just running through the last system checks. Capacitors are charged, codes are loaded."
"Good. Thanks for all the help. Really."
The covert agent nodded. "If it helps you get your son back, that's worth it to me. I'd like to start branching out."
Branching out? Guess Curie isn't the only one who thinks they need to broaden their operations.
"We're ready over here", Desdemona called over a low, steadily rising whine.
"Here goes nothing", Nate muttered too quietly for anyone else to hear.
I turned to look down at Cassandra and Thomas. She was already looking up at me expectantly. What am I supposed to say?
Whatever I think is right.
That's always been a great yardstick.
"I've been through worse. I'll make it work."
Her face softened and a fraction of the pain and fear I knew were lurking below the surface broke through. She nodded. "I'm glad." Thomas looked from me to her and the teenager pulled him to her side. "Just make sure you remember your promise."
Like I'd forget.
"Right."
I caught Nate watching us out of the corner of my eye, but he didn't say anything. There was something akin to respect in his eyes.
"Let's move", I said and the smaller man nodded.
We followed Desdemona to the whirring, whining structure and Tom waved us in.
"I have their signal, codes are loaded, and I got a positive handshake from the network. The capacitors just need to finish charging and you'll be in the Institute."
Time to get this done. I stepped onto the platform beneath the massive inductance loop and the powerful magnetic field sent a ripple across my shields. The effect disappeared after a moment as my suit's control systems compensated, but everyone, including Nate, jumped in surprise.
"Are you alright", he shouted over the cacophony.
"Yes", I called back after a quick status check.
The smaller man eyed me dubiously, but climbed onto the platform beside me.
"Al- alright", Tom yelled as the pitch of the whine drew to a crescendo, "transit in five. Four."
I took a deep breath as the air around me began buzzing. Every instinct was screaming at me to run, but I locked my legs in place. This is my only chance.
"Three. Two."
The air began crackling and I saw Nate flinch.
"ONE!"
A blinding flash sent my visor scrambling to polarize, but it was too late. Sunspots were swimming through my vision. Then, suddenly, I wasn't standing under the large gantry in the Railroad's hideout. I wasn't looking at Desdemona and Tom watching us uncertainly. Nate and I were standing on a platform in the center of a small, dark, circular room surrounded by… some kind of-
Nausea hit me like a freight train. I doubled over and grasped my knees, shoving my breakfast back down through sheer force of will. Throwing up inside my helmet was not an experience I wanted to have again.
Without the incentive to keep puke out of every orifice in his head, Nate scattered the contents of his stomach across the floor in front of him.
As I struggled with my vertigo, I forced myself into a standing position and shouldered my rifle. Enemies wouldn't have the courtesy to let me sit there and recover. Without any idea what this system is or how it worked, I could only guess the room we were in was a transmit station for the Relay network. There were a half dozen floor to ceiling machines with something that looked like large cameras aimed at the center. Outside looked like a control center of some sort, but… odd. It wasn't anything like I'm used to seeing in this hellhole. The surfaces were clean and rust free, the walls were all completely intact, and the lighting looked closer to the cool, white glow of LEDs I'm used to on UNSC ships.
I left Nate to collect himself and cleared the control room which, oddly, had no one in it. That raised alarm bells; if this system were so important, I'd imagine the Institute would have people staffing it around the clock. Why would it be empty?
There was computer equipment lining the walls around me with the main server directly in front of the door. On the other side of that was a hall leading down… somewhere. The cleanliness was almost disconcerting after having spent so much time around destroyed buildings, rusted hulks that had once been cars, and dilapidated shacks people call homes. This almost looked… normal.
"Hello."
My eyes screamed around the room, scanning for the threat. Nothing.
"I wondered if you might make it here", the voice said, an older, genial sounding man. "You're quite resourceful."
It was coming from an intercom system.
Shit. They were expecting us. That would explain why the control room was empty. My senses were operating on overdrive now, nausea an annoyance at the back of my mind.
"I'm known as 'Father'; the Institute is under my guidance." I glanced back to see Nate stumbling his way into the control room looking like he wanted to puke. Again.
"That's trouble", he mumbled.
"I know why you're here", 'Father' continued, "I'd like to discuss things with you, face-to-face. Please, step into the elevator and bring your… companion with you."
We shared a glance and he shrugged. "Are there any other exits?"
"No."
"Well", he drew himself up to his full height, still not quite steady on his feet. "Then I guess we don't have a choice."
He began walking but I blocked his path. If we're going to do something this stupid, I'd be the one to go first. And we were because, unfortunately, Nate's right: we don't have a way out of here, and one way forward. Well this is starting out great.
We stalked forward through the all too pristine steel and glass halls lined with more computer equipment until we came to what must have been the elevator. It was in a small room, the lift itself a circular platform half wrapped in glass. I wanted to do anything besides step onto that platform, but there was no other way forward.
Shit.
I did and Nate followed. Immediately after we were aboard, a semi-circular glass pane wrapped itself around the open side of the platform and we began descending.
Darkness enveloped the glass tube as we dropped into the floor.
"I can only imagine what you've heard. What you think of us. I'd like to show you that you may have… the wrong impression."
My impression of you is a technology hoarding shadow org that likes running things from the dark. A lot like ONI.
The guy was trying to be cordial, but there was an air of condescension in his voice that was rubbing me the wrong way.
Before I could come up with any other negative thoughts, the platform was suddenly descending through open space. Outside our tube was a cavernous chamber that, unlike the Railroad's hideout, looked purpose built. The walls were all smooth concrete or steel, whitewashed and clean. Below us were a multitude of walkways crisscrossing the massive room, dozens of people ambling along. Trees and greenery, artificial waterfalls, park benches… it all looked incredible.
"Welcome to the Institute."
Holy shit. Yeah. These people have infrastructure and technology that would make most Innies blush, let alone the assbackwards people here.
"Holy shit", Nate muttered beside me, echoing my own thoughts.
"This is the reality of the Institute. This place, these people, the work we do", our tour guide continued. "For over a hundred years, we've dedicated ourselves to humanity's survival. Decades of research, countless experiments and trails… A shared vision of how science can help shape the future. It's never been easy, and our actions are often misinterpreted by those above ground."
That didn't sound much different from Maxson's dogma: I'll decide what's good for everyone else because I know better than they do. With possession of technology like this, that's a dangerous approach. ONI had that, but similar to the Brotherhood, this guy sounded more like the Covenant.
As the platform slid past the massive chamber and into another tube below, I felt Nate's eyes land on the side of my head. When I met his gaze, worry was cracking the smaller man's determined stare. This place was as foreboding to him as it was to me. With the 'all for the greater good' approach this guy was using, someone could justify damn near anything. The SPARTAN IIs and IIIs were evidence of that.
"What have you bastards done with my son?" Nate shouted. "Where's Shaun!"
"Someday, perhaps, we can show them what we've accomplished", the man said. There must not have been a pickup in the elevator. Or he's reading from a script. "But for now, we must remain underground."
The platform slowed to a stop in front of another antiseptic looking, whitewashed hallway and the tube split open to allow us out.
"There's too much at stake here to risk it all. As you've seen, things above ground are… unstable."
My companion was outright agitated now. We'd both been expecting a fight, not a lecture, and the uncomfortable implications I was getting from this guy put me on edge too. But I have to be ready for anything. This is part of that.
I started forward. We only have one way to go now.
The short hall led us to another small room with a more conventional elevator set in the far wall.
"I'd like to talk to you about what we can do… for everyone."
Not many things worry me, but that statement sent a chill up my spine. 'What we can do for everyone.' The part he didn't say was 'regardless of whether they want it or not.' I understand better than most: people can be stupid and sometimes it's necessary for someone to decide on a direction and objective, that's why the military has a clear chain of command. But there are also rules and regulations in place to prevent (to an extent) abuse of that power. These people don't have that.
Nate's face was a combination of concern and fury as we stepped into the second elevator and it began upwards. My senses were operating on overdrive, looking for anything that may be a threat.
We're in a small metal box being controlled by someone else.
"But that can wait. You are here for a specific, very personal reason."
"You are here for your son."
"What have you fuckers done with him?" Nate whispered under his breath, naked anger and hatred turning the statement into a hiss.
The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened with a whisper. Beyond them was another small room that was mostly empty. There were a few chairs, a small coffee table-
And a young boy sitting in a small, glass enclosure facing away from us.
I stayed in front of the elevator, blocking Nate's view of the room. If he saw the kid, he'd rush in, and I don't think I could bring myself to stop him. No obvious monitoring equipment, no telltale shimmering from whatever version of active camouflage the Institute uses, no visible traps. It couldn't be this easy; they wouldn't just give Shaun up. Something felt off though. This kid had to be around 10. Hadn't Nate said Shaun was a toddler?
"He may be older than you expect." Kellogg's voice drifted through my head. Had Shaun been taken, and Nate put back on ice for that long? Hell, he'd been in cryo for 200 years, 10 isn't a huge leap.
Creeping into the room, I kept myself between the smaller man and his son. It was… difficult. I wanted to let him run to his son, but I also wanted him to survive to do it.
It didn't work.
"Shaun…" The whisper was barely audible, but the next instant, Nate was shoving himself against the wall to squeeze by on my left.
"Shaun!"
I didn't try to block him. He pulled himself past me as I continued into the small room, double checking for any threats. This was his moment, I didn't need to be involved.
Nate stopped at the glass pane between him and his son.
"Shaun", he said in disbelief as the boy stood, turning to face him. "Oh my god… it's really you." His voice was thick with emotion.
"Who- who are you", the boy asked, pensive.
"I'm-" Nate's voice broke and he shuddered. The smaller man's face was twisted in a pained grimace, like someone had just shot him again. Shaun wouldn't recognize him, but that didn't make it hurt any less. "I'm… your dad. I'm your dad." His voice was resigned. He understood, and it killed him.
"Father… what's going on? What's happening?" Shaun sounded like he was on the verge of panic.
A pit settled in my stomach.
Nate pressed a hand against the glass. "Shaun, it's me- I- I'm your dad!" he pleaded. "I'm here."
"What's going on", the boy said, confused and scared. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he frantically searched the room. "Father? Father!"
"Shaun… please." The ex-soldier was on the verge of tears. "It's- it's me. Please, just open the door."
"I don't know you! Go away! Father! Father, help me!"
This time Nate let out a harsh sob and did start crying. "No- no Shaun please-" his voice broke, but it didn't matter, Shaun wasn't listening.
"There's someone here! Help me!"
"I'd never", he said through a shuddering breath, "I'd never do anything- I'd never hurt you. I'm-" his voice broke again as he placed his other hand on his chest. "Please, I'm your father. I'm your father."
Realization set in. He wasn't calling to Nate. He was calling to 'Father'.
"Father? Father! Help me, he's trying to take me!"
"No-"
The door beside Shaun's enclosure slid open and an older, grey haired man in a white lab coat stepped through. My sights snapped to his head, but he paid me no mind.
"Shaun… S9-23 Recall Code Cirrus."
That voice. This was 'Father'.
I glanced back at Nate, he was staring through the glass, shocked, tears running down his face. Shaun was silent, head bowed, and motionless. What the hell just happened?
"Fascinating… but disappointing. The child's responses were not at all what I anticipated." What the- what was he talking about? "He's a prototype, you understand. We're only just now beginning to explore the effects of extreme emotional stimuli."
As my eyes moved back to the old man, the pit in my stomach turned cold as the vacuum of space. 'Prototype'. There's no way- but that Courser. It had been human enough. No emotion but if he said they're beginning to-
Oh…
Nate seemed to snap out of his stupor and immediately flew into a rage. His face was red, eyes filled with anger and hatred. He hadn't reached for his rifle yet, and I don't think he would. I know that face; if he was going to kill this guy, it would be with his bare hands.
"What the fuck have you done to my son!" he screamed, voice far beyond controlled. "GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"
The ex-soldier lunged for the old man, but I caught him mid-leap.
His target didn't flinch, merely stared him down with a cold sort of appraisal. "Please try and keep an open mind. I recognize-"
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Nate shouted. "I'LL KILL YOU!"
I didn't sympathize with this 'Father', quite the opposite in fact, but the only reason this guy would be standing here is if he had some serious security measures in place. I didn't see any shimmering in the hallway behind him, but I wouldn't bet on it being empty. Restraining Nate felt wrong, somehow, like I shouldn't have been doing it, but it would be stupid to let him attack.
"I recognize that you are emotional, and that your journey here has been fraught with challenges."
The smaller man continued struggling in my grasp. "You don't know a goddamn thing old man."
"I'm sure." This guy's condescending tone was even worse in person. "Let's start anew. I am Father. Welcome to the Institute."
"I don't care about you- you're fucking Institute", Nate shouted, still writhing. "I want answers asshole, right now."
'Father' looked… almost bemused. I felt my own ire rising past the carefully constructed calm I've used to suppress it during operations in the past. Lashing out on my own was very tempting.
"Under the circumstances, I will forgive your… vulgarity. But I need you to realize that this… situation is far more complicated than you could have imagined." For the first time, our 'host' switched his gaze to me for a few seconds before returning to the irate man in my grasp who would have strangled him if I allowed it.
This time, the old man hesitated, an uncertain frown slipping onto his face for an instant. "You've travelled very far, and suffered a great deal-" He stopped, glancing between Nate and I again. "A great deal to find your son. Well, your tenacity and dedication have been rewarded." A ghost of a smile grew on his lips. A sad, weary, uncomfortable smile. "I am… your son."
Nate froze as my mind reeled.
But why? He was in cryo. 10 years or… however old this guy is, it wouldn't matter to Nate. That time would have passed in the blink of an eye. Could he be lying? What would that gain him? Nate's allegiance? There are easier, less sensitive ways of doing that.
"H- how? How… no. How is that possible?" The ex-soldier's voice was quiet and distant, like he was only saying that because he felt he had to.
"In the Vault, you had no concept of the passage of time", 'Father- or- Shaun said. This time a tinge of anger joined the sadness in his methodical, practiced speech. "You were released from your pod, and went searching for the son you'd lost." His jaw clenched for a moment before he continued. "But then you learned that your son was no longer an infant, but a 10 year old boy. You believed that 10 years had passed. Is it- is it really so hard to accept that it was not ten, but 60 years? That is the reality, sadly."
Nate went limp in my grasp. "I- bu- 60 years? 60 years?" The way he repeated that, it was like he'd never considered any number could be so large.
"Yes. 60 years. And here I am. Raised by the Institute, and now its leader."
"Its leader? But- but they kidnapped you", the ex-soldier said, the same anger and hatred as before finding its way back into his voice. "They kidnapped you. That's not right. They stole you from me. From Nora-" Nate's breath hitched and I felt him shudder. "GET OFF ME!" He began writhing again and I released him. "They killed your mother when they took you."
"My mother was…" Shaun paused and looked off to the side, gathering his thoughts. "I've… gone over the incident reports. It seems her death was an unfortunate bit of collateral damage."
Nate sputtered. "Collateral- collateral damage? That's all Nora is to you? Collateral damage?"
"I… I forget it's been such a short time for you. I don't have any direct memories, and I've had my entire life to cope with the loss. Has it been easy? Of course not, but I've done my best to move on and live my life. For many years I never questioned who my parents were; I accepted my situation and that was that." The Institute leader's voice was firm, but not harsh. This was something he's clearly had a lot of time to consider.
That didn't help my companion though. His stricken, confused expression, muscles in his neck and jaw coiled to the point of tearing, didn't leave anything to the imagination.
"With old age comes regret, and asking "what if…" more often. But- what matters now is that you and I have a chance to begin again."
Nate shuddered again. "Begin again? How? How are we- how can we begin again? Your life- our life with you was stolen."
Shaun nodded, face sad. "That is something I cannot undo, no matter how much I want to. I understand this is… too much to take in at once. I've had far more time to come to terms with this. Take as much time as you need. We have a room prepared for you and your-" he looked up at me, "companion. X6-88 will take you there."
The grief stricken father reached for his son as the Institute leader began turning. "Wa- wait Shaun I don't-"
"... Father, I can't imagine what you're going through, but you need to give yourself time to process it. Believe me, there is nothing I can say that will make this any easier." It was the first time Shaun's voice had thawed to something resembling 'normal'. "Please come find me after you've had a chance to think. I very much would like to have the opportunity to get to know you."
As the old man stepped out of the doorway, Nate slid to the ground, leaning back against the enclosure the Synth child- the one he had thought was his son- was standing in, still stationary. He buried his head in his hands and began sobbing.
A new set of footsteps in the hall just preceded a new figure appearing in the doorway. It was a Courser. The thing's jacket was identical to the one I'd killed in CIT. This one was shorter than the other, with dark skin and a permanent frown.
"I will escort you to your quarters", the Courser, X6-88 said in a flat, emotionless voice.
I glanced down at my sobbing companion- my crying friend. He wasn't ready to move, and I wasn't going to push him until he was.
"You'll wait until he's ready."
"I have my orders-"
I planted myself between the thing and Nate and stared down at him. My rifle wasn't quite aimed at the Courser, but it wasn't far off.
"X6-88", Shaun called from down the hall, "standby until they agree to leave."
The Synth stepped back abruptly. "Acknowledged."
Nate didn't seem to notice anything. He was still sitting against the enclosure, wordlessly crying into his hands. We- he'd worked so hard to get here, put so much at risk traipsing across the Commonwealth with me over the last two months to get here, to this moment, and it was all to find his son is almost 30 years older than him. I can't speak for him, but knowing the way he thinks, he feels like he failed before we ever set out. Like he let Shaun down.
And even though nothing changed for me, I felt like I lost for the second time in two weeks.
A/N: A little different from the game, but there wasn't a whole lot of creativity available with this part considering what I have planned for the (near) future. Damon's still struggling, but it's less about that he has things he wants to do now (keep the kids safe being chief among them) and that those wants conflict with a duty he's still trying to figure out. But we'll get to that as the story comes. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you again soon!
Nextchapter: 12/17, What Now?