Disclaimer: This story is written using the setting and the characters of Bethesada's Fallout franchise, and as such, they all belong to Bethesada. Original characters, fictional locations, and such are all entirely made up and any resemblance to other people/places is purely coincidental. If you find a reason to sue me, proceed. Just be warned, I'm virtually penniless and have a cute little puppy that relies on me for food and a warm place to sleep. A puppy, people. Don't be cruel.

BRAVE NEW WORLD

Chapter 6 - Salvaging the Past

"Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. When change is absolute, there remains no being to improve and no direction is set for possible improvement, and when experience is not retained, as among savages, infancy is perpetual. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."
- George Santayana, Spanish Philosopher

Nate stared out the window of his vehicle as it drove up the street past the abandoned ruins of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology, now a charred crater where the Institute was once buried away.

For him, it was still strange. Centuries ago, it was once one of the greatest centers of higher learning. A lifetime ago, it was where his son began a new life as the Institute's newest project. And eight years ago, he put an end to all of that.

Almost as if things had come full circle.

The Institute had been Shaun's life. And while he couldn't have accepted the son's mandate as Director, it had fallen upon the father to put an end to the ancient institution's darkest chapter. And the byproducts of the Institute?

The Super Mutants were no longer a major threat. The paranoia and fear that the Institute had labored tirelessly to instill in the Commonwealth were slowly being eroded away by the passage of time. And what of the Synth?

Most of all, the Synths that the Institute had put so much pride and focus into crafting and perfecting were now scattered for the most part. Many had simply disappeared into the desolate 'wilderness' of post-apocalyptic America. Some had fled to unknown parts, some had gone all the way to Arcadia in Far Harbor. There were surely some synths left in the Commonwealth attempting to pass for humans, whenever out of loyalty to their programming or due to some inexplicable need to survive that went beyond mere circuits and components, but there couldn't have been that many remaining.

After all, the last known incident of a synth being ousted had occurred little more than two years ago. And without the Railroad operating in the region, they had nearly no one left to turn to.

A great deal of them, though, ended up destroyed in the aftermath of the Institute's destruction. Many were sacrificed in the defense of the Institute. Many more were wrecked and scrapped by angry wastelanders. And yet many more, put down by the dispassionate Brotherhood of Steel under Maxson's command.

Of the few that survived and remained within Commonwealth limits, they were currently serving with the Minutemen as 'special assets' on the order of the General, working with individuals who did not mind them or could be trusted to keep their personal prejudices to themselves, or on duties that took them far away from the public eye.

For the most part, that meant they were either laboring under the care of Dr. Madison Li, who was accustomed to them, or Director Jonah Monroe, who did not turn down any opportunity, no matter how controversial.

And there were the Coursers, now in the process of attuning themselves to the fact that the Institute, their creators, were no longer functional and integrating themselves into the new power structure that now dominated the Commonwealth.

Nate's Minutemen.

There was still a degree of risk, the General knew that. But the benefits of having the Coursers was just too tempting to pass up. Not when ordinary synths, or what passed for ordinary anyway, were more than willing to accept the General as a new authority figure.

He was just glad the gambit had paid off. For now.

The vehicle, a M1025 Hummer they had salvaged from one of the derelict carriers out at sea, rumbled across the broken pavements before grinding to a halt just outside the Cambridge Police Station.

Nate stepped out of the passenger seat as his Minutemen escort, both riding with him in the Hummer and jumping out the back of the two military transport vehicles that had followed behind him, began taking up positions in their immediate surroundings. Having already been given standing orders to not interfere with the Outcasts or any sort of Brotherhood operation, the Minutemen took on the task of securing the area outside the Police Station and its established perimeter for their commander.

And so, Nate Howard stepped into the Police Station alone, quickly finding himself surrounded by Initiates and Knights, some Scribes, and one Paladin. The Paladin approached him then. "General," he spoke, acknowledging the man in front of him. "Protector Ingram has already alerted us to your purpose here."

Nate nodded. "Where is it?"

There was no need to be official here, not when the majority of the men and women here plainly hated him for what had happened.

The Paladin gestured to the hallway behind him. "In one of the cells. You know the way, I'm sure."

Nate merely gave him a small tight smile, there was truth in that. The General recalled the day he had come across what remained of a Brotherhood squad holed up in the Station, fighting off a horde of feral ghouls. After helping them survive the attack, he had found himself conscripted into aiding the Brotherhood recover some technology and carry out their original purpose here in the Commonwealth.

And as soon as the Prydwen had arrived, Cambridge Police Station was where Nate had gone to find out what the hell was happening. That had been the first time the General realized that his home, his new home, was in the process of being invaded.

Things had been somewhat pleasant as the General of the Minutemen met up with the Elder of the Brotherhood for the first time, the two quietly agreeing to work together toward a singular goal - Finding and bringing down the Institute.

But then the Brotherhood revealed just what they really were. An occupation force. Crops were levied. Facilities were raided. Technology was forcibly taken and catalogued. All in the name of saving Humanity, even from itself. Relationships grew strained even further as Brotherhood arrogance clashed with Minuteman authority. The fragile alliance Nate had spent nearly a year building up was being endangered by Elder Maxson's reckless drive to destroy all that was synthetic.

That tension had nearly erupted into open war between the Minutemen and the Brotherhood when Danse had been discovered to be a synth, sending Elder Maxson on the warpath. Only through the General's intervention and a standoff between Brotherhood forces and the Minutemen had the Elder relented, choosing to accept Nate's request to spare Danse and refocus the Brotherhood's energies on discovering the Institute's location.

Of course, as the Elder spent fruitless hours in interrogating Danse, a strike force under Nate's command had made its way into the Mass Fusion building, where they recovered a Beryllium Agitator before it could be acquired by either the Brotherhood or the Institute.

That, as far as Nate was concerned, had been the best option possible as it prevented the Institute from activating their primary generator and resolving their energy issues and the Brotherhood from maximizing the destructive potential of their military superweapon, Liberty Prime.

While stopping the Institute from achieving its full potential had been their top priority back then, beating the Brotherhood to it had really paid off later down the road as it enabled the Minutemen to fight back during the war against the Brotherhood, as they couldn't rely on their massive robot to deliver the knockout punch.

And with the entire Commonwealth rising up against them, the Brotherhood quickly lost ground and soon defeat and disgrace followed.

All this, Nate remembered as he made his way through the door, taking a right down the hallway, until he came out into the Police Station holding cells. All of them were empty, save for one.

"Nathaniel," came the voice within the locked cell.

The General stopped in front of the bars. "Paladin Danse." He stared then, down at the man, the synth that he had once called friend. Danse was dressed in absolutely nothing, as no doubt the Brotherhood saw little point in providing a synth with clothes. They would have seen as much point in it as dressing up a piece of furniture, albeit one that could move and talk. The former Paladin did not seem bothered by his nudity.

"Danse. Just Danse, please." The synth looked up at him then, his eyes filled with what looked like regret and sorrow and some sort of... determination? "I'm no longer with the Brotherhood of Steel, remember? And these... Outcasts... They do not want me either, though they seem to have no idea what to do with me."

"No, they don't," Nate agreed. "I have to say, Danse... I hate seeing you like this."

"What," Danse gave him a rueful smile then, "as a nobody? Sees appropriate, considering that was my origin story. Just another orphan in the Capital Wasteland." He looked away, his smile stretching into a sardonic grin. "Or did you mean the fact that I've been left here to rot, no use to anyone at all?"

Nate snorted then. "Nah, I meant you being buck naked. Making me feel insecure, man. You're pretty big down there, you know that, right?

Danse looked back at the Sole Survivor, a blank stare on his face. Then he did something Nate had never seen him before. He burst out into laughter. The General grinned then. "Ah, Nate... You always did have a strange sense of humor. Although, in all my solitude here, ignored by the Outcasts, I've gone through extensive... Introspection, over what I assume has been a considerable amount of time."

"It's been about, oh, seven years since your... Blind betrayal?" Nate supplied, smiling still.

Danse nodded, chuckling as he did so. "Seven years... Yes, seven years of introspective thinking has given me time to reflect on... Many things." He smiled then. "Dwelling on them, I've come to understand things that perplexed me in the past. I've come to understand why you enjoy humor so much, even when the situation doesn't allow for it. Especially when the situation demands otherwise."

Nate grinned, "Always better when it's inappropriate. Like fucking at a funeral."

The former Paladin stood up then, approaching the bars and stared at his visitor, his old companion, the man who he had brought into the Brotherhood and then wrecked the Brotherhood. "All humor aside, I must ask... Why have you come?"

"War," Nate stated simply.

To this, Danse smiled again, though he knew it wasn't intentionally funny, That was just how it was with the Sole Survivor. The man could be deadly serious and still make you crack a smile. He recalled something Nate had once said, when they had camped for the night before continuing on their adventures. "War. War never changes."

"It really doesn't, unfortunately." Nate grinned. "But yeah, I'm making preparations for a new campaign, and I need someone with exceptional skills and experience to serve as... Chief of staff, I suppose." He leaned against the brick wall then, staring back at Danse. "And thinking about who to tap for the job, I remembered something Arthur told me once."

Danse cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

"He said you were one of his finest officers ever." The General went on.

"Elder Maxson would disagree now, I am certain." Danse smiled. "All the same... Why me? You must have plenty of people to consider. Of everyone you could have asked, why me?"

"I have a lot of veterans," Nate agreed, shrugging. "But not enough officers with real combat experience. They're good in a firefight against... Ferals and raiders, sure. But in this case, we're going up against the Gunners."

Danse raised an eyebrow. Seven years and they were still a problem? "They're still active?"

"Outside Commonwealth limits, but yeah, the Gunners are still operational. And they're ramping up their efforts to conscript more soldiers and amass more arms. Word is, they're looking to come back and hit us hard, make their stay a permanent one this time. An united Commonwealth is bad for their business, I'm told."

The former Paladin nodded then, understanding now. "Outstanding... You're staging a preemptive campaign then. Strike at the enemy before they're ready to strike at you."

"Correct," Nate grinned. "I'm going to have my hands full leading this campaign and directing the offensive, and because it's something of a... Group effort, say... I'm going to have plenty of people reporting to me. I need someone who can handle all the logistics and organize everything, as well as keep everyone coordinated while I direct the operations." He smiled then. "And You did a hell of a job, keeping your squad alive in a hostile territory, especially after two other squads were wiped out, and you accomplished what you were sent to do. That's why I'm offering you the job, otherwise these Outcasts are just going to leave you to rot in this cell after they pack up and pull out."

Danse chuckled then, "They do seem to be rather busy these days. I can't figure out as to why, but..."

"Oh, that?" The General shrugged again. "I offered them a Vault, actually. Right on the edge of the Glowing Sea. Protector Ingram agreed to an exchange. The Vault for you. Sorta. There were other conditions but... Whatever."

"A Vault? I'm flattered." Danse smiled, amused by the remark and the notion of being worth such an impressive gold mine of pre-war technology. "Still... What if I don't wish to serve under your command?"

"You're free to go, in any case. I just didn't want to see you left behind like this. All the same, I hope you do sign up with us." Nate crossed his arms then, forcing himself to maintain a straight face. "Just didn't seem right to me, really, you being abandoned like this, especially with the Outcasts pulling out of the Commonwealth."

Now, that surprised Danse and the synth didn't bother hiding it. "They're leaving the Commonwealth? But you said they traded me for a Vault..."

Nate nodded, a small smile tugging at one side of his lips. "Ingram is setting up a chapter there, but she and the rest of her people are joining my campaign."

"Against the Gunners?" Danse stared at him, perplexed. That wasn't typical Brotherhood behavior. No, there was something else at work here. "No, it's not just the Gunners, is it?" He continued to examine the General, taking in the man's attitude and reaction. "... You're going after Maxson, aren't you?"

And Nate could only smile. "Perceptive of you, Danse. But yes, I'm going after Maxson. My war is not with the Brotherhood of Steel. It is with Maxson and Maxson alone."

"They're going to defend their Elder, even in the face of impossible odds. That's what the Brotherhood does. They won't make it easy for you. They won't roll over and let their Elder be taken." Danse countered. "He's a Maxson. He's practically royalty to them. The last living heir of Roger Maxson himself."

"If I have to break the Brotherhood to get to Maxson," Nate began, suddenly serious, "I will."

Danse stared at him then, sensing the sincerity of those words, though he could also sense that there was more to them."

Nate smiled then. "That's the nice thing about steel, Danse. You can reforge it back together into one piece, stronger than before. All the same, if the Brotherhood won't surrender Maxson, then I'll break them in order to remove a clear and present danger to the Commonwealth.

He edged closer to the bars then, closer to Danse, his voice louder now.

"The Brotherhood of Steel will not survive under Maxson's command, Danse. That man... That maniac... Is a threat to everyone and everything. You told me once. The Brotherhood exists to fight against technology that's run amok. Maxson is a lunatic with access to some of the most dangerous technology left on Earth."

Then Nate leaned back. "And I'm going to disarm him. Not kill him. Not execute him. Disarm. And once he's no longer Elder, the Brotherhood can rebuild under someone else's command. Ingram and her people will make sure of that."

Danse stared at him. All of that hadn't been for his benefit alone, he realized. No doubt Nate had said it all, just to send the Outcasts a message. He knew, just as sure as Nate knew, that they would have been listening in on them. But the man did bring up a valid point.

"You're right about one thing, Nate... Elder Maxson is unhinged. He did not take it well when the Minutemen were the ones to destroy the Institute and become the Commonwealth's when he wanted the Brotherhood to fill that role. His defeat will only have made it worse."

And Nate continued this line of reasoning, "And with the Outcasts abandoning him just before his defeat..."

Danse realized it then. This was what Nate really wanted him for. His insight into Arthur Maxson, his way of thinking, his state of mind, someone who would be able to analyze him and counter him. "He'll consider them nothing less than traitors of the highest order."

Nate smiled. "He'll be seeing traitors everywhere, in every shadow, around every corner." Paranoia was one hell of a liability, the General knew and so did Danse. And Danse understood it then, Maxson's paranoia would be what would break the Brotherhood.

"Very well, Nathaniel." Danse conceded then, "I will join you."

Nate grinned then. "Hope you like Minutemen blue." He pulled off a duffle bag he had strapped to his back and dropped it beside him. "You're going to look real damn good in our uniform."

Danse could only groan.

Thirty minutes later, the Hummer was making its way out of College Square and up the road toward Lexington, Minuteman escorts following close behind. Nate took up his seat in front as Danse sat in the back, wearing a Colonial Duster.

Unlike the days when Nat and Preston had begun rebuilding the Minutemen and their recruits wore anything that was remotely the color of blue, they had progressed to the point where every recruit wore army uniforms dyed blue and every Minuteman earned the right to wear a Colonial Duster in the same color, all of it personally made and fitted by talented people like Anne Hargraves. It might have seemed silly back then, but it had given their credibility a major boost and did wonders for morale, having everything standardized.

However, Danse refused to wear the silly hat.

A part of him found it irritating to be wearing the same attire as Preston Garvey, but he couldn't find any fault in the General's case for providing every Minuteman with the same gear as everyone else. After all, the Brotherhood had done the same thing.

The Hummer, though, surprised him. "This is a military vehicle, isn't it? A M1025, if I'm not mistaken."

Nate chuckled up front, nodding in confirmation. "Yes, it is. We found an abandoned aircraft carrier not far out at sea, derelict. Untouched for two centuries, even. Fighter jets. Stingrays. A Vertibird or two. Most of what we found were even inoperable or needed parts we didn't have, but... There was a huge arsenal inside. Armored personnel carriers. Infantry fighting vehicles. Even Howitzers. Fucking Howitzers, Danse."

Danse whistled appreciatively.

"Exactly," Nate grinned as he looked back at his companion. "Course, I got my mechanics and engineers tasked with repairing them, but... It's slow going, unfortunately. And we've been replacing our artillery with the Howitzers where we can, once they're repaired. I've made it one of Isabella's priorities to dismantle a Howitzer and figure out how to retrofit any appropriate facilities necessary to begin producing more of them, but... We'll see." He turned his attention back onto the road.

"Isabella?" Danse inquired.

"Major Isabella Cruz. She's our chief engineer." Nate answered quickly. "I've put together a hell of a staff since the last time we met, actually. You'll be meeting them soon enough, I'm sure."

For the next ten minutes, silence filled the air as Danse stared out the window, gazing at the Commonwealth. It all looked the same, and yet... It felt different. Full of...

Hope.

Danse spoke then, shattering the silence. "You've come a long way, Nathaniel."

Nate peered back at Danse. "Hm?"

The synth looked at him. "Eight years ago, the Minutemen were... Civilians. Farmers and merchants and caravaneers. In other words, just a militia. And now, they're a military power to be feared."

Nate tilted his head then. "Feared?"

Danse smiled in return. "Admired, then." Then he went on. "But the fact remains, they have become a military power."

The General nodded. "Spending time with the Minutemen, learning the basics from Preston and seeing how our men handled themselves, it didn't take long for me to realize that the original idea, however sound, wasn't going to cut it in the Commonwealth today. We're still a militia, Danse. I've just taken what I learned from the past and applied it to today."

This, Danse found interesting. "Your time in the army, you mean."

Nate smiled and gave him another nod. "Exactly. They taught me everything I needed to know in order to be an effective soldier. I just passed on my training."

"You did more than just that, Nathaniel." The synth went on.

The General shrugged. "Once upon a time, the idea of citizen soldiers... Being 'ready at a minute's notice'... It's good stuff. It still applies, really. I've just expanded on it. What they lacked, what they needed... It was just discipline. I gave them that."

"And in doing so, you transformed the Minutemen of old into an effective fighting force. One that destroyed the Institute. One capable of taking on the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse countered. "They're not a militia anymore, Nathaniel. They're something else. They're..." He stopped then, searching for the right word. They were an army, he knew, and yet at the same time, they weren't.

Though, Nate found it for him. "National Guard. Heh. Commonwealth National Guard. How about that?" He smiled, amused by the thought of that, though he couldn't deny that Danse was right. "When you put it like that," Nate chuckled, "it's certainly something. God bless America, and God bless the Commonwealth."

Danse wasn't deterred, however. Instead, his face grew even more serious. "In the Capital Wasteland, we... The Brotherhood once fought against an enemy, one with a military might that exceeded that of their own."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "The Brotherhood found someone else with even better firepower? I find that hard to believe, Danse."

"Nathaniel... The Brotherhood you went up against, everything they had... The lasers, the plasma rifles, the Vertibirds... Where do you think we got them from?" He gave the General a sad smile then. "It is a curiously consistent fact that what we defeat, we take from them. You defeated the Brotherhood and the Institute, and you have profited from their defeats. In this day and age, we are all scavengers. It is a necessity of life, a necessity of survival, in the wasteland."

Nate sighed then, he couldn't argue against that. "Okay, you win. So, who were they, the ones the Brotherhood defeated?"

"They were known as the Enclave. The Brotherhood fought them for the first time in California. They were defeated and went into hiding. They reappeared on the East Coast then, years later. The Capital Wasteland. They were genocidal maniacs who tried purifying the Wasteland by wiping out all mutants. Ghouls. Super Mutants. Even civilians. Anyone with the slightest bit of radiation in them." Danse stopped there for a moment. One look from Nate told him he had the General's undivided attention. "The Brotherhood barely defeated them, even with help from Liberty Prime, the settlements throughout the region, the Regulators, mercenaries... In the end, it took one man. The Lone Wanderer."

Nate stared at him still, listening to what the synth was saying, waiting for the point he was trying to make. Danse didn't talk just for the hell of it, after all. If he was revealing information, then there was a point to it.

"They were the last remnants of Pre-war America. They were all that remained of America's government, Nathaniel. In the Enclave, America survived. A twisted and warped dream that used to be America."

And that told Nate what he was getting at. "I'm not the Enclave, Danse."

The former Paladin nodded. "I know. The Enclave's vision of America would have been built on the corpses of millions. You, on the other hand..."

Nate stared straight at the man, the synth, the one who was one of his closest friends, one of the few who really understood him. "I just want to build a better world. For everyone."

"Outstanding." Danse smiled. "And that is why I'll take your vision of America over that of the Enclave."

The hummer rolled into Lexington then, Nate peering out his window as he saw plenty of people moving around, smiling softly at how alive the city seemed now. His Lexington Initiative was really something he was proud of, and he knew his Nora would have been especially proud as well.

It didn't take much to destroy something. But putting something back together? That was just beautiful.

The convoy took a left before pulling into the city's largest gathering area, where many stalls and shops could be seen lining the sidewalks as dozens of lightbulbs hung everywhere, suspended from wires. Night was beginning to fall, but you'd have never noticed it, not with how bright it was here in the bazaar.

After circling around the bazaar and moving up the ramp, the vehicle screeched to a halt on the street just outside Corvega Factory, in whose shadow the city occupied. Nate, Danse, and the two other Minutemen all stepped out then. Nate approached the railing then, looking over at everyone going about their business.

Despite everything, despite all of this, Nate couldn't help but feel just a twinge of anxiety then. They weren't the Enclave, but the potential was also there. All it took was one person, with the vision, the energy, the drive, to really fuck it all up. He had handpicked all the best possible candidates for this election of his, but... He didn't know how it would turn out ten years down the road.

A hundred years down the road was even more of a different story. What if all he did now would only eventually give rise to a new Enclave? One even worse than the old Enclave? How had Danse put it earlier?

'The Minutemen of old.'

'What if the Minutemen of today become the Enclave of tomorrow?' That was what Nate feared. And just as quickly as it came, it was gone. His resolve and determination set in then, hardening his composure. 'I'll just have to do a hell of a job then, won't I?'

He eased back from the railing then, spit at the ground beside him, and muttered to himself quietly.

"God willing."

Author's Note: Updated as of 6/14/2021