CHAPTER TWO: A NEW NAME

Hey everyone, this is Travis "Lonely" Miles bringing you all the latest news around the Commonwealth! Folks, it's been about a year since the Institute went bang, and I was asked, yet again, by General Delaney, to please please warn you about the area. It remains highly radioactive, so unless you're a ghoul, or itching to become one, I suggest you stay away in the meantime.

I stared down at the boy's outstretched hand. His fingers were dirty and calloused and the gloves had definitely seen better days. Should I shake it? Who were the Minutemen? Was I supposed to know them? James' confident smile faltered for a moment, obviously confused that she hadn't moved and was staring at his hand like it had been dipped in acid. "Hey, uh… you okay?" Listen I'm sorry about pointing 'Ol Reliable here at you but…" He rambled until he was cut off by his companion.

"She may be in shock." The blue robot Ada suggested, slowly waddling up next to James, "It's understandable considering all she has presumably been through."

"Geez, I hadn't thought of that," said James, scratching the back of his head and letting his outstretched hand flop back to his side, "Well can we at least get a name, friend?" I opened my mouth to recite the closest thing I had to a name at this point, X7-77, but as expected, no sound came out.

"Are you mute?" James said with a hint of confusion. Turning to Ada asked, "Can shock cause someone to be mute? Maybe it's a temporary thing."

"It's possible sir, severe trauma can certainly cause someone to become mute, it could also be a mechanical issue." I felt myself begin to frown. Mechanical? That would certainly explain my weird "dream," before waking up.

"Mechanical? That's your department Ada, don't suppose you could take a look?" James smirked.

"Negative, I have neither the hands nor the expertise necessary. I apologize." Ada replied without faltering.

"It was a joke Ada, don't sweat it." James turned to look at me and asked "Don't suppose you could write your name down, could you?" He began rifling through the numerous pockets on his duster and pants muttering the whole time about how he knew he had a notebook somewhere. After some digging, he produced a broken pencil and a scrap of paper that had probably been sitting in some desk since before bombs fell. "Aha! Knew I had some!" He handed me the scrap and said, "Now just go ahead and write your name down."

I bent down so I could use my thigh to write on and quickly scribbled down "X7-77," my blonde obscuring my vision as I wrote. He eagerly took the scrap of paper.

"X7-77? Well, that about confirms that you're a synth. No problem then, finding synths is what I do, so I guess this is good news!" James said, beaming. "Most synths we find usually take on a less uh, utilitarian name though. Hmm, any ideas Ada?"

"Negative. You're supposed to be the one with an imagination" Ada piped back.

"Point taken, Ada," He paused for a moment, "X7-77, X7-77," He repeated the combination a few times as if it held the code that would unlock a name. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and exclaimed proudly, "How about Summer? We're probably only a couple of miles east of Somer-ville Place right now so it kinda makes sense. Plus, Summer is the best season." He reasoned, "What do you think?" I nodded my approval, rolling it over in my mind and silently sounding it out. Well, it was better than nothing.

"Awesome! We've got a name for our little refugee! Now I think it's high time we head back to the caravan, they'll be heading out soon. Just follow me, Summer." With that, he pushed his way back through the brush he had just abruptly burst through. The whole interaction had taken maybe five minutes total, but already I had been given a new name and taken in by an unknown group. Not bad for my first day… wherever this is.

As we walked through the bombed out forest, I realized that it wasn't all a desolate waste. There were tufts of hardy looking yellow-green grass peeking out of the ground, small saplings clinging to life, and even more of those short shrubby trees with the weird fruit on them. It was all strangely beautiful in a way.

My thoughts were interrupted by James shouting over his shoulder, "We're almost there, my group is just taking a quick break on this road up ahead. I'll bring you to The General so he can decide what to do next."

Our trio stepped out of the forest onto a cracked and overgrown road. I could see about a dozen men dressed similarly to James milling about the area. Some were casually conversing in the shade of covered wagons that were being drawn by two headed oxen, others leaned against the rusted shell of an old Corvega and at least two were scanning the road on either side of the caravan. They carried a mix of weaponry. Most wielded long laser muskets or combat rifles but she did spot at least one other lever action rifle like James' and an old man in the driver's seat of one of the wagons had a nasty looking double barrelled shotgun across his lap.

In addition to the cadre of humans, there was one hulking blue robot that didn't look anything like Ada. It had a large round protectron body, assaultron legs, and arms both mounted with a powerful looking laser rifle on the right and a claw on the left. She also noticed some sort of insignia painted on its body. It looked like a very old pre-war rifle crossing with a lightning bolt, surrounded by three stars. Most strikingly though, was the large glass dome with a singular eye mounted in the center, and a floating human brain suspended in a green gel within it. Its brain fish tank seemed to be nestled into the high neck of the protectron chassis to add further protection. It was pretty unnerving so I turned my attention to the man who seemed to be in charge.

We were approaching a tall muscular man with a clean shaven face and short black hair wearing a tri-cornered hat and a much more ornate version of James' uniform. Next to him was a slightly shorter and less muscular black man in a tan colonial duster and hat just like James'. The two men were conversing over a map, oblivious to their approach.

"I know General, but if any of them got out and somehow made it down here, they'd have gone further east towards the coast." I heard the man in the tan duster say, gesturing with his hand in the opposite direction of where we were approaching. "Any further south or west and they'd be in the Glowing Sea! And as I've said, it's been over a year sir, most likely any evacuees have either been found, killed, or more likely just quietly assimilated or left the Commonwealth."

"That's why we're sweeping east Preston, we can scout out the area around Quincy and pick up any souls we find. God, you know how people are about synths, even with The Institute gone. It's better to be safe than sorry" said the man with the tri-cornered hat, seeming slightly exasperated. It was clear these two had had this conversation before.

"General, sir! Refugee Recovery Specialist James Thatch, reporting with urgent news!" James announced loudly, snapping to a salute. The two men looked up surprised and slightly amused

The tri-cornered hat man sighed, "James, I've known you for over a year now you don't have to do that every time." This didn't seem to affect James in the slightest, or if it did he was certainly doing a good job of hiding it.

"Understood, sir, but I have urgent news. I found one!" James proudly proclaimed. Gesturing to me, "Found Summer here in the woods just over the hill! She seems to be mute, but I'm sure someone could fix her up and-" he was cut off before he could say any more.

"Slow down there kid, now, if she can't speak, then how do you know her name?" Asked the General.

"Well she wrote down X7-77" James said carefully, accentuating each letter and number, "but I suggested we call her Summer and she seems to like it!"

"Nice to meet you then Summer," said the General, turning towards her with a smile, "My name is Natnial Delaney, General of the Minutemen, and this is my second in command, Preston Garvey," the man in the tan duster doffed his hat, "And it appears you are a synth of The Institute, which we destroyed about a year and a half ago. Terribly sorry about making you a refugee but that is why we're out here." he grimaced, "One of the objectives of this expedition is to look for Institute refugees, synth or otherwise, such as yourself. The Institute Relay sort of shotgunned anyone who evacuated out across the whole Commonwealth, and we're still finding pockets of survivors such as yourself this long after the big bang."

I nodded my understanding. I broadly understood my current situation, but this damned amnesia was making it difficult. Plus without my voice I wasn't able to ask the hundreds of questions I had. "We'll be heading out east until we hit Murkwater where we'll rest for a bit and resupply. We can also get you some new clothing since that jumpsuit has definitely seen better days." The General said with a smile, "At the rate we've been moving, we should be able to get there by tomorrow evening and then we-" He was cut off by the creepy blue brain robot.

"Sir, I'm detecting multiple unknown entities approaching from the east." It stated urgently, with a surprisingly human voice, "recommend defensive action."

"Nate, it's probably that damned L&L Gang, they've been harassing our patrols for weeks now." Preston advised.

"Assume defensive position," Nate ordered the robot, "Alright Preston, whaddya say we show them why they shouldn't mess with the Minutemen?" he said with a wild grin.

"With pleasure, General!" Preston replied, returning the smile and shrugging the long laser musket off his shoulder.

"Alright everyone! Raiders inbound due east! Defensive positions! Let's go!" the General thundered, "and you," he said, pivoting to face me and James, "Thatch, take her to the rear and keep an eye on her, you too Ada. Now move!"

"Sir, yes sir!" James snapped, grabbing my arm and rushing us over to a small brahmin cart at the rear of the caravan. "Keep your head down and plug your ears." he instructed, "Ada, keep an eye on our rear, I"m gonna give some support!"

"Yes sir" Ada replied, waddling so she was facing down the road away from the commotion of a dozen Minutemen all frantically getting in defensive positions.

I looked around at all these Minutemen. They were really an interesting bunch. They were of all ages, from the old driver with his ugly double-barrel shotgun clutched to his chest, to James, who was peering around the side of the cart into the scope of his lever-action, a focused look on his face. Everything was quiet for a moment as they settled into their positions. I could hear the bushes rustling in the wind and the controlled breathing of James. Everyone was crouching behind cover, completely still, tense with anticipation.

Then a tree to the right of the road exploded into flame, and all Hell broke loose.

(A/N) And that's the second chapter, very talky. And now the Minutemen are here! Those robots will be explained soon, as well as tons of action in the next chapter. Please leave a review since this is my first story! Thanks and see ya next time!