Chapter 8: Anything Goes - Cole Porter
POV: Harry
A bleak and weary sun broke over the eastern horizon, its light not assuaging the bone deep chill that seemed reluctant to release its hold over the exhausted settlers. Harry took what warmth he could from Daphne's proximity, both of them speechless at the carnage the early morning battle had wrought. Harry looked into Daphne's tired, red-rimmed eyes and could only offer a sad smile as solace, a meager nepenthe against the loss they had suffered. Hermione had surprisingly stifled her own tears, drawing from a well of inner strength to provide Susan a much needed pillar to lean against. The two witches had followed the Salem Militiamen who had taken Vincent's body to the makeshift morgue, a grassy field made forlorn by the row of bodies that now covered it.
Luna and Soleil joined them in silence, their absence from the battle explained by the number of mole rat corpses draped over the taller woman's shoulder. Luna's head tilted to the side and her eyes reflected the sadness as they watched Susan kneel beside a cloth covered Vincent. Soleil's eyes held a wholly different emotion, for they blazed with fury at the sight. Her jaw was firmly clenched as she let fall the mole rats, her hands opening and closing as if unsure how to spend the furious energy coursing through her veins.
"They attacked early this morning." Preston broke in, having walked over when he spotted that Luna and Soleil had returned.
"From what I've been able to gather from my men, they seemed intent on kidnapping Susan. Vincent braved their fire to bring her back to our lines. We only got here just in time before the entire line of defense fell."
"How many did we lose?" Daphne murmured, not taking her eyes off of Susan's distant form.
"Fourteen in total. Seven Minutemen, three Salem Militia, three civilians and of course, Vincent." He replied somberly.
They stood in silence for a time, the quiet broken when Preston quietly murmured that he needed to find the General and moved off to do just that.
"Soleil and I will see if we can help in the clinic." Luna declared, her normally wistful nature subdued and a far more grounded woman leading Soleil away, leaving Harry and Daphne alone.
Harry sighed deeply before placing himself in front of his love, "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Daphne asked.
"I'm worried that I made a mistake. Making friends with the Minutemen. Now four of our people are dead. They are good people, "Harry quickly added, forestalling Daphne's objections, "I'm just wondering if I messed things up for our friends by sticking our necks out like this. It seems we've no shortage of enemies."
"I'm not convinced that this wouldn't have happened anyway, Harry. We haven't exactly hidden who we are. Sooner or later, someone was going to come after us. This way, at least we have friends who will stand by us."
Harry frowned, his look pensive as he formulated his next words.
"In for a penny, in for a pound." Harry sighed, "I don't disagree with you Daphne, I just can't help but feel guilty. We're standing on Minutemen ground watching four of our people being carried away in sheets that didn't have to be. But I also know that if our positions were reversed, Jon and Preston would have been there for us."
Daphne's expression softened as she cradled Harry face in her hands. She kissed him gently on the lips, effacing some of the worry lines etched in his face, "It least we won't get bored."
"Oh yeah, bugger the boring life! Between Jeremiah and his Rust Devils, The Mechanist and his army of killer robots, that crazy raider cult at Dunwich, and now the Gunners, boring will be the last thing we are."
Further debate was put on hold as a massive shadow overwhelmed them, the mighty USS Constitution finally making an appearance. Harry greeted an obviously aggrieved Captain Ironsides and Mr. Williams, the latter looking pale as he clutched his hat in grease stained hands. His eyes were drawn to the too still forms of the four militia that were being prepped for their last journey to Salem.
"Mr. Potter, sir. I'm so very sorry." The elder gentleman's voice broke as he spied Susan stroking Vincent's hair, the morning breeze making her hair halo about her head like a wild flame.
"None of us knew, Mr. Williams. It's not your fault."
Daphne cleared her throat overtly at Harry, a less than subtle prompt.
"It's not anyone's fault." Harry corrected, sensing Daphne's approving nod.
"But sir." Williams refused to relinquish his burden of guilt, however undeserved.
"If you really need someone to blame… blame them." Harry spat, jabbing a finger at the line of bodies dressed in the olive green fatigues of the Gunners.
"We didn't do a thing to bring this down upon us, yet they started this whole mess. Now, we are going to finish it!"
The others cheered their agreement, though the sound was somewhat subdued given the circumstances. Mr. William moved off to find George in all the mess and Captain Ironsides started detailing his crew to patrolling the grounds.
"Let's go find Jonathan, we need to figure out our next move."
POV: Jonathan
Sweat stung his eyes and heavy grunts escaped from behind the firm line of his lips as he wrestled with the wrench, forcing the over-torqued bolt loose from the turret housing. A flash of pain erupted along his arm as the head of the bolt spun off with a protesting squeal. The sudden lack of resistance sent his arm surging against the torn housing, ripping a painful gash along his bicep that angered more than hurt the General. He swore and threw the wrench furiously, the loud clang echoing around the defense tower.
His fury spent, Jonathan sat next to the offending machinery and draped his arm over it, heedless of the blood that flowed crimson over the rusted metal. He had thought, had hoped, that tinkering with the turret, that immersing himself with something tangible he could actually do something about, would somehow divorce him from the hollow ache in his heart.
He had been horrified at Susan's heartbreak, knowing that much of it stemmed from how little time she and Vincent had had together. He thought about how Vincent, in that ages old manner, had shown just how much he had loved the quiet witch. The observations of everyone who witnessed the event had agreed, that Vincent had rushed out into certain death to bring his Susan back safely. If there were some way to talk to the dead, Jonathan was sure that Vincent would account his life well spent.
Perhaps inevitably, the parallel between the two and himself could not be shaken. He heard it in his heart like a clarion call of truth. In this world of brutality, every moment mattered. He thought of Hermione and his heart constricted in his chest, the pang of longing causing it to expand again as if to exceed the physical limitations of his biology. His breath would not come, as if his lungs were indeed compressed beneath his beleaguered heart.
"General? Are you alright?" The rising panic in Preston's voice brought him out of his self-induced torment, his lungs relaxing with a sigh and allowing him to drink in gulps of air as if he had been drowning.
Preston hurried in and knelt at his side, his eyes roving to inspect his commander for wounds. Jonathan stood shakily and conjured a small smile to reassure his over-protective friend.
"It's alright Preston. I was… I just let my emotions get the better of me for a moment."
Preston's face betrayed his suspicion, that the moment he had just caught the General in was far more egregious than a mere anxiety attack.
"This is about the people that died." Preston reasoned.
"Yes." Jon whispered, his eyes far away.
"And more." Preston continued.
Jonathan closed his eyes and cradled his face in his hands, a weary sigh escaping between his fingers being all the confirmation that Preston needed.
"I'm sorry that I don't have the words to make things better. I don't know that I'd believe them myself. And what's more, I'm afraid that I have to burden you even more."
The General looked up at Preston, steeling himself for the bad news.
"Abernathy was attacked late last night, shortly after a portion of their garrison left to reinforce us here at Starlight."
Jonathan was shocked, "Was it a coordinated action by the Gunners?"
"Thankfully no." Preston confirmed, "It was a small group of 'bots under the Mechanist. Small enough of a group that the remainder of the garrison were able to fight off with minimal casualties."
"How minimal?"
"One bit of good news in this mess, I suppose." Preston began, "Only one person was hurt, took a laser burn to the arm. One stimpack and some rest and she'll be fine. Those turrets made the difference, especially that missile turret you installed, took out the bulk of the assaulting 'bots before they even got a shot off. Left the boys with only a broken protectron and an eyebot to deal with."
The General managed a smile at that, but it was a façade, for he felt the burden weighing on him that he hadn't yet completed his mission to deal with the Mechanist.
"As soon as Starlight is secure, have the Abernathy contingent make haste back home with some supplies to help with any rebuilding they need to do. Have them take a few extra turrets from the warehouse here to beef up their defenses while we formulate a response."
Preston snapped a salute, relieved that the attack hadn't unmanned his beloved General and rushed off to fulfill his orders. He nodded in greeting as he passed Harry on the stairs, gesturing upward at the wizard's questioning glance, guessing that he was looking for the General.
POV: Harry
Harry walked quietly, strangely reticent as he walked up the last few steps to the top of the defense tower. Jonathan was draped ignominiously over a battered turret, a mess of tools and bits of scrap scattered around him as if he were the epicenter of an explosion. The man looked tired, emotionally and physically spent. Harry wondered if it had anything to do with the man he had fought and killed at the battle's climax.
"General?" He prompted gently.
The man stood up and wiped his hands absently on his fatigues, doing more to add grease to his trousers than clearing the muck from his hands. Harry tried not to notice the slight tremor in those hands, swallowing down the disconcerting feeling at whatever reduced this super soldier into something resembling a mere mortal.
"Hello Harry. How are your people?" He almost whispered.
"As well as can be expected. Luna and Soleil are helping in the clinic. The others are doing what they can to repair the defenses. Hermione wants to grab that stone we have stockpiled at Bedford and finish the walls here."
"What about your…" Jonathan couldn't finish the word.
"We're taking them home." Harry murmured solemnly, referring to the fallen.
The soldier nodded at that, and gazed almost forlornly at the mangled turret. Though Harry didn't have the gift that Hermione had with Reparo charms, he brandished his wand and finished the work that Jonathan had begun. Within moments, a gleaming heavy machine gun turret chugged black smoke as it oscillated and scanned for enemy targets.
The General chuckled at how easy Harry made it look, idly kicking some of his tools with his toes.
"I wanted to talk with you, about what we are going to do about all this." Harry began.
"I'm going to do what I should have done years ago. I'm going to kill every god damned Gunner I find and raze their plaza to the ground."
"That's a good goal, but it isn't a plan. We need a plan." Harry insisted.
The General took a deep breath and fixed Harry with a focused look, "I need to finish this business with the Mechanist. We got too many distractions on the board. I hope that Hermione will, you know… help me finish this."
Harry nodded, "I think that she will. Let's all talk this out and come up with a plan. Whatever happens, we're with you."
Jonathan smiled gratefully, coming forward to grasp Harry's hand in a firm shake. They were interrupted from any further discussion as Daphne and Hermione came up the stairs and joined them.
Daphne came to stand beside Harry, wrapping her right arm almost possessively around his waist. Sympathy shined in her eyes as she regarded the haggard General, a look that was mirrored on Hermione's face.
"Who was he?" Hermione blurted out without preamble.
Jonathan seemed to know exactly who she was talking about, and to be honest, Harry was curious too.
"Samuel. He was my crèche brother." He began, turning away from them to look out over the settlement, "That means we were born in the same batch using similar genetic material. We were placed in the same training unit. Though we didn't have families, per se, our training units fulfilled that function. We were all brothers and sisters. We trained together, played together, ate our meals together, everything."
Hermione's understanding seemed to dawn on her face as it twisted into an expression of pity, her hand going for his shoulder comfortingly before she was consciously aware of the move. She went to pull away as her cheeks reddened in sudden embarrassment when he placed one of his hands atop hers. Harry watched expectantly, the moment seeming to remove itself from the normal flow of time and becoming something apart from their brutal reality.
Jonathan smiled at her and said, "I regret having to kill him, but he made his choice to betray the morals we were raised to believe in. He justified it by pointing out that those who instilled those beliefs didn't believe in them either. Truth is truth, even if spoken by a non-believer. He made his choice."
He and Hermione seemed to lock gazes for the longest time, Harry wondering if the time had finally come. But the spell was broken when the moment seemed to pass, a cloud coming over Hermione's features as she made to pull away. Harry went to move away too, to give the General some time to work through his feelings and pulled Daphne along with him. The three of them made it to the top of the staircase when a powerful hand clamped on Hermione's arm and turned her about.
Harry and Daphne both were shocked speechless by the sudden, almost frantic move by Jonathan, who had pulled Hermione close to him and was wrapping her up in his arms. She seemed to melt into his embrace, her small frame fitting in the niche formed by his protective arms as if she were made for the space.
"I love you Hermione."
Harry wasn't sure who gasped loudest, him, Daphne or Hermione. He felt his stomach drop to somewhere in the vicinity of his sneakers and shook his head to make sure he wasn't hearing things. All doubt fled when Jonathan cradled Hermione's head, one hand gently tilting her chin upward while the other came around the back of neck. His lips found hers, Hermione's body reacting instantly to the intimacy by reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull herself upward into the kiss.
She broke off after a long moment and looked up at him in earnest, "I love you too."
The sound that came out of Jonathan was somewhere between a sob and a sigh, anything further broken off by Hermione's lips coming up to meet his again.
Harry looked away, catching the knowing smile on Daphne's face as he took her hand in his. They descended together after a moment, once it became clear that their friends weren't going to stop kissing anytime soon.
POV: Luna
The air was heavily laden with the scent of sting of disinfectant and the coppery tang of blood. The miasma was further augmented by the moans of the anguished; the wounded men and women, and spirits help her, a child that had been hurt in the fighting. The young girl cried piteously, clutching a worn hand woven doll tightly to her chest and burying her head into the chest of her daddy. The man's expression was enough to break her heart, the look of a parent unable to soothe their hurt baby.
'Somnus' Luna murmured, waving her wand and focusing her considerable prowess toward the bewitching sleep charm. She opened her eyes to find that the girl had fallen into a deep sleep, her father's eyes brimming with unspoken gratitude. Her doctor turned toward the witch and nodded his thanks, her thrashing had kept him from properly setting her leg.
Luna moved through the room, Soleil her constant shadow, lending what aid she could with the charms she knew. Minor cuts and bruises disappeared entirely under her ministrations while more egregious wounds were lessened enough for stimpacks to work their own brand of magic.
An hour later, an exhausted Luna fell onto a now vacant cot while Soleil spoke quietly with one of the doctors. She brushed her wispy blonde hair aside and wiped away the worst of the sweat beading upon her pale brow.
"You look tired."
Luna shivered at the sudden sibilant voice in her ear and nearly fainted dead away, she arched an eyebrow at the smirking Soleil, which is about as angry a reaction as she was capable.
"I'll be fine, as long as my friends don't keep trying to frighten me to death." Luna murmured darkly, though her smile belied the tone.
Soleil grinned at her as she sat on the opposite cot, leaning back on her arms and stretching her dark sinuous body languorously. She sat up and allowed the smile to fade as her normal taciturn nature came to the fore.
"You did a lot of good for these folks." She stated, with an almost defiant air about her.
"Would have been better had we been here at the start?" Luna asked, guessing at what Soleil was implying.
She got her answer when Soleil closed her eyes and shook her head angrily, some of her dark curls bouncing loose from her barrette.
"Maybe. Or maybe we'd be the ones to be lying here." Soleil mused.
"I'm sorry that Vincent died. He was very kind. Though I think he'd be glad that he died saving Susan's life. He loved her very much." Luna looked up as if seeing something far away.
Soleil seemed surprised Luna's observations regarding Vincent's character. But after a moment seemed to agree with the pale witch's assessment.
Soleil drew in a deep breath, "I still…"
The tall woman paused at Luna's upraised hand and thoughtful expression. Luna was intently peering over the warrior woman's shoulder prompting Soleil to turn in curiosity.
They both watched as Susan hesitantly stepped into the clinic, turning her head to thank the Minuteman who had escorted her there. One of the doctors approached and led her to a cot adjacent to the ones where Luna and Soleil rested.
Susan was more pale than usual, the red of her hair framing her face like a living flame around a full moon. She sat quietly and didn't seem to pay any attention to the two women staring at her.
Without a word, Luna rose from her cot and joined Susan, taking her seemingly lifeless hands in her own. Susan showed no reaction to the touch and continued to stare off into nothing.
Luna didn't quite know what to say, as she maintained enough pragmatism to realize that no one really took her seriously and Susan seemed to be taking Vincent's death VERY seriously. The two witches fell under a shadow as Soleil stood over them, blocking them from the morning sun streaming in from the curtained windows.
"Vincent and I had known each other a long time. We were both Diamond City security before that buffoon McDonough became mayor. We came to Salem together, tired of running guard detail on those Bunker Hill cheapskates. It was a good life, really good. Barney is a good enough fellow, Harry treats us with respect. We were made to feel at home, like we were part of something good. When we were asked to watch over you lot, Vincent about fell over himself to get picked as your guardian. He was infatuated from the start. He went on and on about you. Quite annoying really. Fingers got a bit jealous… been carrying a torch for the man ever since Bunker Hill. But for him, you were it. As much as it irritated me, I was really glad for him, he had never looked so happy. Every moment spent with you was one he treasured, Susan."
Soleil paused for breath, the laconic woman clearly not used to being so gregarious. She snatched a water bottle from a passing doctor, who had the good sense not to argue with the tall lithe woman, and gulped it down.
Luna examined Susan and saw that the veneer had cracked somewhat, a single drop of moisture wending its way down her tear stained cheeks.
Her thirst abated, Soleil continued, "He was my best friend. We understood each other like no one else ever had before. We had each other's backs for so long that people began to assume that we were an 'item'. He was a brother to me and I was a sister to him. When Luna and I got back and saw what the Gunner's had done, the guilt over not being here for him almost tore me apart."
To Luna's surprise, Soleil's voice broke, and the woman hurried to wipe away the tear that edged out from eyes that had nearly seen too much suffering to be affected by it anymore.
"I wasn't there for him when he needed me most. But me being guilty and feeling bad for failing my friend isn't going to do Vincent any good. He'd say, 'Let it go Sol. The sun always rises.'"
Soleil turned away from the two witches and continued to talk as if to Vincent, "I'm sorry Vinnie. I'm not going to let it go. I'm going to kill every one of those motherfuckers to even the score."
She turned back to Susan, who seemed to come alive at the thought of payback, "We can either wallow in guilt and what if's, or we can turn it to rage in our hearts and unleash it on those bastards. Hate can be a beautiful thing, Susan."
Soleil went on to quote Melville, "He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a cannon, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it."
The words captured Susan's spirit as surely as Ahab harpooned his Moby Dick and through the folly of his quest, tangled himself body and soul amidst the twisted lines to descend into the abyss with his most hated foe. A fire seemed to rage as Susan latched onto the idea of vengeance, its spirit coming to life within her and filling her heart and soul as completely as Vincent's death had emptied it. The malaise which had so enraptured the young woman was burned away as new courage lent her strength.
Susan stood abruptly and squared off with Soleil. They seemed to reach some unspoken agreement, each nodding to the other before Susan brushed by the waiting doctor and walked purposefully from the room.
By midmorning, Luna and Soleil had joined the others and watched as Barney Rook marched by as Captain Ironsides' crew carried their fallen aboard the frigate. Each had been draped with a black cloth, since Salem lacked a flag of their own.
"I never asked their names." Luna whispered, remarking on the men and women being carried past her, the same four that she and Soleil had come with from Salem.
"I wish I had asked their names." She lamented quietly, her voice finally achieving a measure of the sadness to match the turmoil within her.
"Stan. He was blonde, short, scruffy beard. Love to tell stupid jokes. He was terrible at it, but we laughed anyway. That was Laura. She wanted to have a baby more than anything. Phil. He was the tall skinny dark haired guy. Wrote poetry, pretty good actually, didn't rhyme though. Tyler, he was an asshole, but was always nice to the kids, saved any toys or such we'd found out there to give to them."
"Oh." Luna replied, "Thanks."
Soleil's early foray into the loquacious seemed to have passed, for she only grunted in reply, as if she had used up the measure of words she was allotted for the day.
One of the Minutemen, a bald man with sunglasses, paused at them and mumbled a platitude before walking on his supposed patrol.
Soleil jolted as if startled and peered intently at the retreating man's back, "I feel like I've seen that man before."
"I do too." Luna added, tilting her head in thought, "I'm sure of it. But I get the sense that he's trying to hide who he is… especially from himself."
Soleil seemed to come to a decision and started off after the rapidly disappearing Minuteman. Luna followed along behind, nearly slamming into her back when the dark woman suddenly halted.
"Where the hell did he go?"
The owl screeched in annoyance at the big brown bird that surged up into the air and nearly clobbered it. It paused in midair and let loose a stream of protesting hoots at the inconsiderate behemoth and the funny people walking around on its back. It continued on its way and its ire spent, the owl continued its own journey to the very settlement the ugly thing had left. It carried a message for one of the wizard's in its pouch and though it was not a living thing, it still prided itself on a job swiftly done.
The owl swooped down and with unerring accuracy, dropped the message right into the hands of the wizard, his strange double eyes catching the sunlight and dazzling the bird for a moment. As instructed, it perched nearby and waited in case the wizard had a reply, looking around at all the commotion and preening, hoping for some attention in the form of a neck scratch.
POV: Harry
He unfurled the scroll and mentally kicked himself when he saw that it was from Nick Valentine. Harry frowned in chagrin at constantly putting off going to meet with Nick and subsequently forgetting about the poor man… or synth.
He scanned the message quickly, his eyes darting across the page as if possessed. The synth's handwriting was oddly sloppy, short choppy letters slashing the page as if the detective was writing the note while being violently shaken. Nick warned of Raider and Gunner movement near the settlement of Sunshine. Enough of each by themselves to overwhelm the modest garrison there, but thankfully they seem to be fighting each other instead of the settlement. Valentine went on to warn Harry that the situation could change at any time and that he really needs some back up there, or he's going to have to find a way to convince the folks there to abandon their home and head to Abernathy.
"What is it, Harry?" Daphne asked, concern on her face at the crestfallen expression he wore.
Harry handed the scroll to Daphne, who scanned over the document. Finishing, she sighed and handed it back.
"What are we going to do?" She asked, once again reinforcing the leadership position he found himself in and reminding him how much rested on his shoulders.
"I think we need to discuss this with Jonathan and Preston. Sunshine is a Minuteman settlement and they need to know what Nick has discovered. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together."
Satisfied with that answer, Daphne graced him with an encouraging smile.
Together, they joined the growing throng as Sheffield mounted the stairs on a makeshift stage, a battered podium leaning precariously along one side and the Minuteman flag draped proudly across the back of the stage.
Sheffield cleared his throat and began to speak, though his raspy throat did little to project his voice over the murmurs of hundreds of settlers. Harry sighed and mounted the stage next to him and with a questioning nod, to which Sheffield tentatively nodded, cast a quick charm to amplify the man's voice.
Sheffield's eyes bulged in surprise as the volume of his own voice seemed to unnerve him somewhat. He regained his composure and cleared his throat again, the gurgling noise transmitted across the settlement and making him wince in chagrin.
"People of Starlight, "He began again, "you know I'm not one for speeches or anything, so I'll keep this short. Earlier this morning a group of Gunners attempted to kidnap one of our friends from Salem. Instead of leaving when they failed, they brought more thugs out and attacked our peaceful settlement, killing four Salem Militia, seven of our brave Minutemen defenders and three civilians. In the not too recent past, the number of Gunners attacking us would have spelled the end of our proud town. But thanks to the noble sacrifice from our friends in Salem, and the stalwart defense by our very own Minutemen, we're still here!"
He shouted the last, raising his fist in defiance and receiving a roar from the crowd in response. Long had they spent huddled in fear from raiders such as the Gunners, that to not only have survived a major assault but to actually beat the raiders back gave the settlers their first taste of pride.
Sheffield let the cheer continue for a time before raising his hands for quiet, "Now we must rebuild, stronger than before! And we must memorialize our fallen so that their sacrifice is never forgotten! We will build this memorial right here in Starlight, so that every trader that comes will see, for all time, what our courageous friends had done."
He continued to speak for some time, clearly caught up in the fervor of his own words. Even Harry felt himself swept up in their flow. By the time the speech was over, enterprising settlers had set up stalls to sell food and someone had wheeled out the jukebox from Angie's Bar, lending the scene a festive air.
People seemed to be lining up around the spot that Mayor Sheffield had indicated the memorial would go. Curious, Harry peered through the throng and saw that the spot was festooned with a plethora of votive objects. Candles, food, liquor bottles, small scraps of cloth and more were carefully placed, each a silent testimony to the heartfelt appreciation from the people of Starlight.
The sun cast its reddish glare across the emptying central square and Harry felt that it was time to meet with his fellow leaders to discuss their future plans. Finishing off the spicy mirelurk meat on a stick, he strolled arm in arm with Daphne to the Minuteman barracks, where Jonathan and the others waited.
POV: Harry
By early evening, the gathered leaders of the Minutemen and Salem worked through the pleasantries of their meeting, sharing a friendly meal despite the gamut of emotions which plagued everyone within. Susan seethed in her seat, as if lit from within by ball lightning, her eyes flicking over everyone else and her hands tapping constantly. Luna and Soleil kept their own counsel, sitting somewhat apart from everyone else though listening intently to the others. Daphne, sat next to Harry, their hands clasped beneath the hardwood table as they smiled at the obviously beaming Hermione.
She just couldn't help it, even looking at and being reminded of Susan's heart ache did little to dull the fire blossoming in her own heart. She sat as close to Jonathan as their chairs allowed, their thighs touching and his arm draped comfortably and possessively over her shoulder. She nestled in his arms as if her body had been molded specifically to fit in his embrace.
Preston washed down the last of his corn chowder with a healthy gulp of wine and stood up, "I guess I'll start us off. With your permission General."
Jonathan nodded at Preston to continue, trying his damn hardest to give his second his full attention despite the way his heart thudded in his chest at Hermione's proximity.
"The Gunners have upped the ante. We now know that they seek to capture one of our wizarding friends for their own purposes. Additionally, we still get scattered reports of marauding bands of robots from the Mechanist. These reports are increasing in frequency, I think because of the diminished presence of the Rust Devils lately."
The others murmured or nodded their agreement, without the competition offered by the Rust Devils, the Mechanist's forces faced less opposition in their attacks across the Commonwealth.
"Nick Valentine, during his mission to track down Cait, had hit a dead end at Sunshine. That bad news is mitigated a little bit by the good timing of his arrival, as he discovered increasing Gunner and raider activity near there. They seem to be contesting the area south of the church, which is too close for comfort for our settlers there."
"How many people live at Sunshine?" Harry asked.
"There are a little over forty now, mostly farmers. We have a garrison of six Minutemen. Plus Nick of course. It is one of our newer settlements, so they don't have even the beginning of a wall like our other settlements though the people there have cobbled together a junk fence."
"They have turrets to augment their defense?" Jonathan asked, despite the fact that he very well knew the answer.
Preston nodded, knowing that the General brought it up so that he could explain the town's defenses in detail.
"Yes sir. About a dozen light machinegun turrets on elevated platforms scattered around the perimeter and an additional three shotgun turrets along the most likely avenues of advance by any determined attack. The Mr. Handy that was there has been repurposed for farming duty but can assist in the defense if needed."
"So if the Gunners or raiders attack, they'll get a bloody nose but if they attack in the numbers the Gunners brought here, they'll overrun the settlement in short order." Jonathan added, the precariousness of the people's position sobering him somewhat.
Preston began speaking again when Jonathan suddenly stood up, holding up his hand to hush the group as they began to question his sudden skittishness.
"I hear screaming… gunfire!" He hurled himself from the room, nearly bowling over Luna and Soleil as he vaulted the table and rushed outside.
Harry quickly followed, his wand ready as the distant screaming and sporadic gunfire seemed to come closer.
"Well hello there!" The ghostly apparition cheerily called out, seemingly inured to the panicked screaming that followed in his wake.
White faced Minutemen followed after the floating spirit, fingers fumbling around their triggers as they attempted to conquer their fear.
"Sir Nicholas!" Harry called out, "What are you doing here? And how is it that everyone can see you?"
"Good Evening, Mr. Potter! Just the lad I was looking for! I apologize for the disturbance, I'm not used to being seen by muggles."
"But HOW are they seeing you?" Harry asked, exasperated.
"I was observing the activity around the Dunwich quarry. Keeping an eye on the cult there and that nasty chindi. Seems like those loons actually managed a bit of magic to empower their dastardly spirit patrons. I somehow got caught up in their ritual and had to flee with haste when I realized that they could suddenly see me! The effect seems to be fading though, at least the ghostly flames have gone out, so I imagine I'll go back to being largely unnoticed in short order."
"Wait." Harry said, a chill running down his spine, "Did you just say, patrons? As in more than one?"
"Oh yes, right! There isn't one chindi, I saw at least five."
Harry nearly swooned at the news, black spots actually swam in his vision at the idea of a group of malevolent spirits and a crazed cult so close to Salem.
He recovered quickly and asked Nick to come inside the barracks and explain what he has seen to the group.
"So they put them in cages suspended over a fire pit. Burned the poor buggers alive. If I'd been alive, I'd have lost my lunch!"
The others paled at the horrible sacrifice perpetrated by the cult at Dunwich. Nicholas talked about their other activities and it was clear that the raiders were clearly mad and driven by a powerful and evil force.
"This must be answered at once!" Nicholas proclaimed, "Who knows when they'll find Salem and decide that we'd make a nice sacrifice?"
Harry fell into his chair and cradled his head in his hands, it was too much! Steeling himself and taking comfort from Daphne's hand on his back, he sat up straight and turned to Barney Rook.
"Salem has to make a pre-emptive strike before the loonies find us and they sacrifice any more innocents to the chindi."
Barney looked thoughtful, "Without stripping Salem bare, we have about 20 battle ready men and women. We can take them by surprise but if Nick's numbers are accurate…"
"I know how to count, sir." Nick bristled.
"…then we'll be outnumbered three to one." Barney continued without missing a beat, "Even with the Constitution providing fire support and some of you spell slingers coming along… it'll be a close thing. We may even lose."
"You aren't alone." The General declared, looking to Preston.
"Despite our losses, I think we can put together a few squads, about 24 troops." Preston replied, quickly adding up the available garrisons in his head.
"I can have 3 suits of T-45 ready in less than a day." Jonathan added. He turned to Harry, "If you can loan us the Constitution briefly, we can load up our men and the power armor and have them to Salem by this time tomorrow."
Harry grinned at the re-affirmation of the Minutemen's devotion to their friendship with Salem.
"That might give us the edge we need. Power armored Minutemen with heavy weapons will be force multiplier." Barney noted, nodding as he thought out loud, "We can have our teams form a perimeter and have the frigate pound them from the air. Once we button them up into the quarry, we can tighten the noose and fire down on them with our fire teams. Once the surface is cleared, a small group can go in the caverns and clear out any stragglers."
"The chindi are likely somewhere down there. I'll lead the attack inside." Harry announced, "Barney, you keep your men out, this is wizard's work and we don't need scared muggles shooting into the dark."
"What about the rest? I don't think any of these other issues are going to conveniently wait while we focus on Dunwich." Preston added, who like Harry, was starting to feel the strain.
"Hermione and I are taking Ada to continue our hunt for the Mechanist. If we can remove him from the board, it will give us some breathing room." Jonathan put in, with Hermione nodding in support.
Harry agreed, "And I would like Luna and Soleil to head to Sunshine. We need to either shore up their defense or help them evacuate."
He turned a questioning look at the two women, surprisingly, it was Soleil who answered for them, "Gunners and raiders running amok? Count me in."
"Well ladies and gentlemen… it appears that we have a plan." Harry announced.
POV: Susan
It was with a determined stride that caught her up to Luna and Soleil as they headed out of town that next morning. Soleil's eyebrow arched slightly as she joined them, her eyes scanning Susan's level of preparation with obvious approval.
Susan had gone beyond the norm for the other magic wielders from Salem, girding herself in a gunmetal gray combat armor suit that Jonathan had grudgingly provided. His generosity was not in question, merely the wisdom in sending the obviously distraught young woman back into the thick of things so soon after losing her paramour. A well-worn holster on her hip held a heavily modified laser pistol, also courtesy of the General, being specifically customized to send a blast of multiple laser bursts at close range… a pistol version of a laser shotgun.
Susan tightened the cinches on the pack she wore, the slight woman almost bent over from the weight of the supplies she carried. She had refused all help with the pack, the fact that is was bulky and heavily weighted despite the extension charm she had placed on it a clear indicator of the number of materials and supplies she was carrying. Two additional turrets had been disassembled and placed within, with crates of medical supplies and ammunition finding their way within from the Minuteman quartermaster.
"Oh, hello Susan." Greeted Luna, as the flighty woman finally noticed that Susan had joined them.
Susan merely fixed a hard look at the blonde witch, tucking a stray strand of her red locks behind an ear, as if daring her to give any negative indication.
But Luna merely smiled and wafted over to give Susan a sisterly hug, careful not to knock over the off balance redhead.
Soleil helped Susan adjust the straps on her armor for a better fit, for all his experience, Jonathan knew little of how to fit armor onto female anatomy. In moments, Susan breathed easier as Soleil performed a minor miracle with the fit. Two Salem militiamen and four Minutemen joined their troop, each of them carrying a brace of supplies for Sunshine.
They were setting out shortly, travelling with the garrison from Abernathy as far as their settlement, and then moving on toward Sunshine. With luck, they would reach the beleaguered settlement before the sun set.
Susan wasn't conversational as they walked, Luna taking up the slack by making wistful observations on various subjects along the journey.
A group of bloodbugs were put down before either Luna or Susan could draw their wands, the precision fire from Soleil dropping the three giant mosquitos before the rest of the team even knew that they were there. Luna paused to examine their corpses, straining to lift one by its proboscis and shrieking when the nearly dead insect twitched madly in her grasp.
Susan didn't join the others in their laughter at the witches' expense, her mind fixed on their objection and her sincere hope that they would engage the Gunners menacing the settlement, a down payment on the justice she wished to visit on them.
They farewelled the Abernathy garrison as they departed the road and headed north to the farm, their pace increasing to reflect their eagerness to return home. The remaining joint force also increased their pace, their own desire to relieve their friends at Sunshine clearly lending speed to their limbs.
No other monstrosities reared their heads as they travelled, Soleil setting foot on the top of a dam just to the north of the co-op and holding up a fist to halt the company. Though the sun was well on its way to setting, visibility was clear as they joined her and saw the small detail awaiting their approach. The welcome party flew the Minuteman flag and only two uniformed men blocked their way, so the party was not unduly alarmed at the sight.
One of the Minutemen, a grizzled veteran by his appearance, approached the group and grinned widely when he recognized them. He waved cheerfully to his companion who hurried to catch up as they closed the distance between them.
"Ach! But it's good to see you! We were hoping we'd get some reinforcements, but to see you Salem folks here too really eases the burden on this old soldier." The elder Minuteman greeted.
"How's the settlement?" Soleil asked, the question the closest thing to a greeting she was likely to offer.
"We're holding up alright. The Gunners and the raiders seem more interested in fighting in each other than us. One side or the other will send a scouting team once in a while to keep us on our toes, but I think it's their way of saying to stay out of their business."
"I doubt it will stay that way, once one side or another pushes the other out, they'll hit Sunshine just for the promise of loot, especially if they're hurting for supplies after the fight." Soleil reasoned.
"Aye, I reckon you have the right of it, lass. Let's quit jawing on this dam and get you folks into the settlement. Old mama Steph had a stuffed radstag roasting over the fire afore we left to keep a watch and if we want to fill our bellies, we'd best be getting back before they forget their manners and leave us naught but bones to nibble!"
POV: Hermione
Hermione watched as the frigate took off from Red Rocket, two dozen Minutemen and three suits of power armor crowding the ship with Harry and the rest as they headed back to Salem to plan their assault on Dunwich. She shivered in the sudden cold, a spike of worry shooting along her spine with icy fingers. Warm arms enveloped her from behind and staved off the chill, her knees going weak as she felt the hard muscles of his torso pressing tightly against her back.
"I guess I need to get Ada and see if she's managed to triangulate the Mechanist's signal." Jonathan murmured as he looked over her head at the departing Constitution.
Hermione sighed, her disappointment an almost palpable thing in light of the dangerous turn they were about to take. For the briefest instant, she fantasized about staying here with him, to forget about murderous robots and killing radiation and live the life that she felt she had missed. That Susan definitely missed.
The wistful musing could not long last against her sense of right and duty. The witch had always been committed to putting what needed to be done ahead of her personal desires, and this time was no different. Still… there was a longing in her heart to stay here with Jonathan and spend time they both desperately needed exploring their new love.
Apparently he felt the same, as despite his pronouncement, he made no move to let her go or to leave. If anything, he seemed to tighten his grip on her, letting go immediately when Hermione shifted her shoulders to break free. She felt a pang at the hurt in his eyes and assuaged it by turning to face him fully and pulling his head down so their lips could meet. She felt him relax in her embrace, his lips and tongue playing with hers with almost reckless passion.
He groaned against her mouth as her hands trailed down the hard plane of his stomach, coming to rest on his hips. Acting on pure instinct, she pulled him more tightly against her, gasping in the unexpected surge of heat and wetness from her womanhood as she felt him hardening against her thighs.
"Greetings sir. Are you ready to depart?" The mechanical yet still feminine voice of Ada broke through the haze of their passion and drove them to stand apart in furious embarrassment. Hermione blushed fiercely at the bulge in his pants and felt her heart leap up into her throat at the unconscious pulsing she felt deep in her stomach.
Jonathan was as deep a shade of red as she had ever seen and she couldn't help but laugh at his discomfort, a mirth coupled with sympathy for the un-tempered lust that her own biology clearly desired.
"Um, hello Ada. Have you been able to triangulate the source of the Mechanist's signal?" Jonathan managed, after taking a moment to compose himself.
Hermione moved a way back so to get herself under control, the sudden urge to giggle maniacally only heightened when Jonathan turned a plaintive look her way.
Ada's head moved back and forth between them, as if trying to cogitate the strange behavior from her biological friends. Filing the behavior as a human anomaly, she turned her CPU's computational power toward responding to the General's question.
"I have. The signal is being broadcast from an old RobCo factory to the east. I estimate an 87% chance that this is where the Mechanist is directing his forces."
"Good work Ada. It's time for us to put a stop to his rampage. We'll head out first thing in the morning after I've had a chance to put the finishing touches on Tesla."
Ada nodded, an affectation she had often observed in humans, "It will be tactically advantageous to have the Sentry Bot accompany us. I surmise that his electric-based weaponry will be particularly useful against the Mechanist's forces."
Hermione had finally gotten herself under control and moved to stand next to Jonathan. Ada moved away, sensing that her presence was no longer required and that she would be well served by recharging until they departed.
She wrapped an arm around his waist, watching the slim assaultron move away.
"Once more unto the breach." She murmured.
"Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; but when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage; then lend the eye a terrible aspect." He replied.
"You know your Shakespeare." She smiled, constantly astounded by this man.
"Henry V was a favorite of mine, I so loved the romance of it all. Most of the other mocked me, preferring the writings of Arleigh Burke or Curtis LeMay. But I've always loved the written word, there's one in particular that has been in my thoughts ever since I met you."
"Oh? Which is that?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.
He smiled wickedly, "Oh you'll have to wait. It's a bit of a morning after type of literature."
"Oh you!" She chided, slapping his arm in mock-protest.
His mirth died as swiftly as it was born, "We have a hard task ahead of us."
Her heart tempered by the sobering thought, she girded her heart with the courage she drew from him, "No matter what, we'll be together."
"No matter what." He affirmed, leaning down to kiss her once more before leading her into the workshop to being their preparations.
POV: Harry
It was a somber procession that filed off the ship after she had moored at Salem's docks. Having been forewarned, the bulk of the town had gathered, each holding aloft a lit candle as the bodies of their protectors were borne past them.
Harry watched the line in stoic silence, Daphne leaving his side to direct the funereal procession to the church at the heart of the town. He shook himself from his stupor long enough to ask George to see to quartering the Minutemen who had accompanied them, frowning at the diminished spirit of the ever-optimistic wizard.
Standing along on the decks, he looked out over the gathered townspeople; the nearly two hundred men, women and children in his charge and under his protection. Salem had grown into a happy and prosperous place, the more for others to envy and covet. He knew that he must nurture a darkness in his heart, so that he could be the force that kept these people safe.
That darkness would soon be released on unsuspecting people to the west, Harry gazing out toward the dark line of that not-so-distant horizon. Unsuspecting, but not undeserving, he reminded himself. Barney had word from scouts that small settlements that once lay within half a day of the old quarry were empty of life. Harry could piece together what had become of them, giving Nicholas' grim tidings of human sacrifice carried out for the chindi.
What Harry couldn't figure out, was the why. No magic he knew of could return the dead to life nor give physical aspect to the fleshless apparitions that haunted the living world.
Nicholas hadn't remained visible to the muggles, so whatever curse or hex they were empowering with the dying agony of the captured settlers was temporary at best. Harry once again rued how little information they had and missed the expansive library at Hogwarts where this and many more answers might have been gleaned.
He sighed heavily and walked with wooden legs off the ship at last, taking his place at the rear of the procession. Tomorrow they would bury their friends. Then they would prepare for war.
The next day…
Harry picked listlessly at his lunch, the morning's ceremony leaving him completely bereft of appetite. His Daphne could only sit next to him in silent support, knowing that there were no words of comfort she could offer that would take the burden of what had to come next.
Harry didn't fear any conflict with his morality, killing the cultists and banishing the chindi was the right thing to do in his mind. No, the anxiety stemmed from the fact that this wasn't a task he cold undertake alone… that others would fight and most probably die in the coming battle. And no matter how necessary a thing might be, Harry had never been able to be cavalier with the lives of those entrusted to him.
That to a man, the Salem Militia and Minutemen were volunteers did little to assuage his guilt. He looked into their smiling, enthusiastic faces and saw their grave pallor as veils were drawn over their still bodies. Smiles gone forevermore under his watch and in his care.
"Daphne, could you ask Barney and Roger to join me in the diner? It's time to discuss the coming battle."
POV: Somewhere deep underground
His beard was flecked with blood as the cough wracked his body, his skin taking on a ghastly hue beneath the fluorescent lighting. The pod that sustained him hummed in counterpoint to his pain, his rasping breaths coming harder with each passing moment.
An attractive blonde woman rushed into the room, wielding a strange white gauntlet that hummed as she held it over the stricken man.
A green beam played out over his throat and chest, easing his pain enough for him to fall back with an exhausted sigh.
"Thank you, my dear. That is much better." The man forced past his dry throat. He graced her with a small smile and gently took hold of one of her hands.
She looked down at him helplessly, her medical knowledge stymied by the malignancy of the tumors devastating his body.
"Would you call your husband here? There is some business that needs to be cleared up, sooner rather than later."
"You need to rest." She insisted.
"I'll have all the rest I need soon enough. Please, Sharon. This is important."
She nodded in quiet acquiescence and moved away to the communications panel. He couldn't quite make out her words, she spoke softly no doubt for his benefit. He wished he had more time to get to know the relative newcomers, he wished he had more time for a great many things, but the cancer was extremely aggressive beyond even the science of his new friends.
A dark haired man strode in, his every step measured with purpose as befit a man whose calling was martial in nature. He spared a smile for Sharon before a look of worry creased his brow as he knelt at the pod's side.
"You asked for me, Father?"
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Commander. I fear that time grows short."
"I am at your service, sir."
"I am… grateful." He paused to draw a few trembling breaths, "I feel the end coming and I must ask more of you now than I ever have before. There are those who would oppose my decision, especially Dr. Ayo. But it has to be you."
His sudden proclamation thoroughly befuddled the man, his face twisting in undisguised confusion as he attempted to make sense of the nominal head of the Institute.
"What would you have of me, Father?"
"I've spoken to the Division Heads: Dr. Li, Dr. Holdren and Dr. Filmore… all agree. You will be the new Director of the Institute. I need you to continue our work. And please… find my mother."
The man recoiled as if slapped, and for a brief moment wondered if he had heard truly.
"Sir? Are you certain? I'm no scientist. I'm a soldier, always have been. Sharon would be a better…"
Father cut him off, his face taking on an aspect of madness as if he spent his very life energy to force the words, "It must be you! Sharon will be the Division Head of Robotics, since the position has been vacant for some time. I know you disapprove of the course we have taken and that the last thing you want is to be responsible for the future of the Institute. But we have to change if we are to be the future of the Commonwealth. We've been sequestered in here for so long, that we have lost focus on our goal. Only you have the strength of character to be the architect of change the Institute needs."
Father closed his eyes for a long moment, and grew so still that the Commander feared the outburst had utterly spent what little life remained. But he opened his eyes and began again, whispering so softly that he had to lean in to hear.
"I had set into motion events that… I had hoped would lead my mother here. But something has gone wrong, we've lost sight of her. Please find her… tell her… Shaun…"
The Commander stared down at the greying visage of Father, as if willing him to finish speaking. He held the old man's hand, squeezing it as if to prompt him to awaken.
"He's gone, baby." Sharon said softly, placing her hand on his.
He looked down for a long moment at the man who had rescued him, his wife and their adopted daughter from almost certain death nearly six years before. He stood up and clasped hands with their savior one last time.
"Are you going to do it?" Sharon asked.
He nodded solemnly and hugged his wife, "Justin isn't going to like this."
"Justin doesn't like much of anything. He hasn't been the same since Dr. Zimmer failed to return from the Capital Wasteland."
"He seems to be relishing his new position with a little too much fervor. I think he had long assumed that his meteoric rise to authority was heralding his assumption of the Directorate once…" He looked back down on the man, emotion hitching his voice somewhat.
He sighed, "Well, one thing is clear, I'd better assert control quickly; we have a lot of work to do."
A/N: Hello folks, I apologize for how long it has been since I've updated last. Life has been very busy as of late and my time extremely limited with regard to leisure activities. In any case, my next chapter or two is outlined and plotted, so I hope that the next couple of updates won't take as long. Thank you for sticking around and for following/favoriting the story. Each one of you inspires me to continue writing. As always, please review, I always welcome your thoughts.