Chapter 14: Rocket 69 – Connie Allen
Beneath Old North Church
"So, the prodigal son finally decides to return?"
Deacon winced at that, and he sincerely hoped that his ever present sunglasses managed to hide the chagrined expression in his eyes even as he affected his most disarming smile.
"Glory! My, my, you are looking as delicious as ever. It's been too long!"
"Can the sweet talk baldy. Desdemona is tearing everyone's head off about you and nothing you say is going to take the sting out of the ass chewing we've been getting in your stead."
"What?!" He cried in mock indignation, "All this over little old me?"
Deacon feigned injury, dramatically placing his hand over his heart and staggering as if wounded, "I feel all kinds of special to warrant this kind of attention!"
"You won't when she hears that your back." Glory muttered.
"DEACON!" A shrill voice echoed from deep within the catacombs.
"I'm going on patrol." Glory muttered suddenly, hastily leaving by the same way that Deacon came in.
The Railroad agent mopped a little sweat off of his brow, not that he was worried about Desdemona… after all, he was the best in the field and had proved it on more than a few occasions.
Shaking his head and rolling his shoulders in anticipation of the confrontation, Deacon headed deeper within the catacombs. He took his time about it though, stopping on occasion to whisper a greeting to the few agents he met along the way.
He was smiling on the outside, but inside… he noted with sadness at how few agents there were. After the fall of Switchboard and the forced relocation of the team from the DIA to Old North Church, there hung over them all a somber pall of defeat. He had always kept away, his work was in the field after all, but after that 'retreat', he had made more of a point to stay topside. He just couldn't stand the miasma of despair.
Besides, the more recent developments bore watching very closely.
"Deacon!"
His mood brightened at the friendly greeting from Tinker Tom, the man genuinely overjoyed to see him. He abandoned whatever he had been tinkering with on his workbench and rushed over to him.
"It's great to see you, alive and in one piece!"
"Nice to see you too, Tom. Anything new?"
Tinker Tom, glanced around and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, "Desdemona has been particularly stressed lately. I can't help but think that there may be some extraterrestrial interference involved."
Deacon suppressed the urge to sigh and dismiss the notorious conspiracy theorist's newest 'revelation'.
"What makes you say that?" Deacon asked patiently, betting that putting off the meeting with Dez just a little longer was worth listening to one of his rants.
"I've intercepted transmissions from the region near Oberland Station. It repeats and is clearly not human in origin. I've asked agents that were operating near Vault 81, and one of them told me that he had heard a story from a traveler that something crashed in the woods to the east of the settlement! He says the trees are still burning!"
"And what have you done about it Tom?" Deacon asked, fixing Tom with a serious look, though he felt anything but.
"I've… well, I… Desdemona won't detail an agent to check it out." He stated sadly, defeat slumping his shoulders.
"You can't blame her, Tom. With both Dutchman and Helena missing and presumed dead, we are critically undermanned. There are simply too many problems and too few of us to deal with them all."
"Which is why you should have returned when I called for you, Deacon." Came an acerbic comment from the shadows.
Deacon blanched at the feminine voice and turned to see the leader of the Railroad wreathed in cigarette smoke standing at the entrance to the chamber. Damn! He had been too involved in humoring Tinker Tom and failed to note the woman's approach.
She sauntered in, her eyes flashing with obvious rancor at him as she passed and perched on Tom's work bench like a predator taking its ease before deciding what to do about the helpless prey trapped before it.
She took a deep drag on her smoke before speaking, "Alright Deacon, let's hear it. The earth shattering reason you ignored the signals and notes and messengers for weeks to only just now decide to grace us with your presence."
Deacon cleared his throat, "Well, you know about the sole survivor of Vault 111."
"Not this again," She interrupted, it was bad enough you decided to waste time following the trollop, but then you lost her and didn't even have the grace to say so!"
"There was something there, Dez… the Institute was involved in her waking up from that icy tomb and you can bet that whatever that reason is… it won't be good for us."
Desdemona waved away his concern, "We have had real issues staring us in the face Deacon. We didn't have the luxury of chasing down phantoms."
"Maybe, but the fact that I was there let me catch on to a few more things that are of interest. Namely the community of witches and wizards and the resurgence of the Minutemen under a new General. Not to mention… wait, did you just say that in the past tense? Did something change?"
"Your little girlfriend from the vault… she's back."
Deacon sat down without aplomb and rubbed his head at the news.
"Our agent in Diamond City reported it. Showed up at Valentine's for help finding her 'baby'."
"So after her little whirlwind adventure, she's decided to take up finding her son again?" Deacon asked rhetorically.
"Yep, and she had some serious backup."
"Oh? What kind of backup?"
"The bad kind." Desdemona pulled a photograph from her… ahem, front pocket, and slid it across the workbench toward Deacon.
Deacon peered at the photograph with a critical eye. Standing next to Valentine was the notorious sole survivor herself. Behind her, and clearly in her thrall, were three toughs… raiders, but not the scum that usually slithered out of the muck of the Commonwealth.
One was dressed like a Triggerman, but one that had the sense to armor up and carried a sniper rifle that Deacon would not want to be on the wrong side of. Another looked like a masochist's fantasy, a woman wearing what looked like a metal bikini with spikes and razor edges protruding at strategic points. Her face, however, was covered by a dark grey metal mask, only her pale chin and thick lips showing. The last one was a brute, towering over all the others and had feathers and horns sticking out all over his armor. He wielded a custom weapon… a deathclaw's hand attached to a bracer on his wrist.
"Dangerous looking bunch." He noted.
Desdemona fixed him with a 'no shit' look before taking the photo back.
"Valentine may or may not be a willing accomplice to her activity, but in either case, they've been spotted leaving Diamond City just this morning."
"Where are they going?"
"We have no idea. She dropped off the radar again. If only I had an agent who was good at following people…"
Deacon gulped a little, knowing that after all the crap he gave her about his need to follow her, then to lose her, only for her to reappear and he wasn't there to keep tabs? Now he knew why she was irritated.
"I guess I can try to pick up the trail."
"Nope." Dez interrupted. "You are going to Salem."
"Wait… what? You mean you believe me about them?"
"There have been too many disparate reports to discount them all. Plus, a little bird told me that you actually led the last escapee right to their doorstep to get a look at them."
Oh, so she knew about that.
"Last escapee?" Deacon noted, "Well, Patriot's seems to be slipping."
"Patriot's gone dark."
"No shit?"
From the answering look on her face, she was deadly serious. This was bad. Patriot was their ace in the hole, a sympathetic agent acting on their behalf within the Institute itself. He was the sole reason the Railroad has had any success at all, and for him to suddenly not be in contact.
"It's true, Deacon." Tom added somberly, "The last transmission was incomplete, meaning it was sent before it was finished. He may have been caught in the act and… well, I don't know what the Institute does to those that betray them, but considering what they do to regular people in the Commonwealth… I can only imagine that it isn't good."
"Shit." Was all Deacon could say. He accepted the offer of a smoke from Dez and they sat in silence for a moment.
"So, you want me to go to Salem, eh?" Deacon asked, tamping out his smoke before finishing and leaning back to look at the woman.
"We need to know where they land, so to speak."
"My initial assessment is that they are neutral, though the one I met, Harry, seemed to be sympathetic. I'll head over there, see what I can 'sess out."
"They have trade caravans going in and out of there regularly."
Deacon nodded, already formulating a plan. Stockton would be a good place to start, as he can sign on with a caravan heading to Salem from Bunker Hill and blend in once he arrived. With the silence of Patriot, they really needed some good news. Though he had gotten a very good impression of Harry when he had 'saved' them, he knew that a lot rode on what he learned from the community. Witches, wizards and bears… oh my!
POV: Daphne
Daphne couldn't quite suppress the tingle of excitement which electrified her as she lifted off from Kingston and waved farewell to the settlers there. She was more than pleased with herself over having gotten to Harry, though not so smug as to assume nothing would or could go wrong.
Her wand was ready in her wrist sheath and she had already casted disillusionment and shielding charms, trusting in the strength of her warding to see her through the dangers of flying over a lawless Commonwealth.
The land between the Northeast (that Salem nominally controlled) and the Northwest (an area that the Minutemen actively protected) was rife with chaos and desperation. She began to wonder if the growing influence of Salem and the Minutemen were forcing some kind of compression effect, driving the raiders, super mutants and other dangers inward toward one another. That couldn't bode well for those settlements caught in between, Diamond City included.
Daphne corrected her course as she considered that perhaps some gesture should be made to the rest of the Commonwealth, something that could ease the tension and show the people there that their magic was a force of hope.
Peering through a break in the clouds, she saw a collection of brick buildings that matched the description Harry had made of Cambridge. She smiled when she thought of its namesake, a college town north of London that she had actually visited once or twice not too long ago. She frowned, remembering that it was in fact, centuries ago. She shook off the maudlin thoughts that would wear her down… she was on the way to meet Harry and she certainly didn't want to spoil his surprises by arriving upset.
Hrmm… odd. As she descended, she could see what looked like stunning charms being used. No, it was a muggle weapon, a laser rifle. She hovered in place for a moment and watched, gnawing her lip in worry as she witnessed a 'last stand' situation unfolding beneath her. Three survivors were fending off what seemed to be a growing horde of feral ghouls. Two survivors… oh no. She shook her head, she couldn't sit idly by while people fought and died, no matter who they were.
POV: Danse
Danse was worried, the press of ferals weren't abating no matter how many he killed and he knew that Knight Astlin was down. Checking behind him quickly, his worry turned to dismay as Knight Rhys fell, clutching his stomach. Scribe Haylen did her best to fend them off with her laser pistol, her remarkable composure enabling her to kill the last feral inside his defensive parameter.
She deserves a commendation, if only her commanding officer can keep her alive long enough to get it! Damn this place! The Commonwealth had resisted their mission from the moment their boots hit the ground! He smashed the nearest ghoul in the head and sent it flying back, only to catch another leaping onto him and dragging down his left arm. Left in an awkward position, he pressed his rifle against the back of the ghoul and pulled the trigger, shaking off the limp remains and looking up to reassess their position.
Paladin Danse had seen a great deal in his years of service, but he had never seen a blonde woman suddenly appear out of the sky and casually jog back down as if taking a flight of invisible stairs. She smiled at him reassuringly which only served to heighten his alarm.
"Civilian! You're in the line of fire! Get out of there before you get yourself killed!"
A smirk was her only response and he watched dumbfounded as a wooden stick appeared in her hand. The tip glowed as if lit by some bright phosphorescent material and she waved it around her head, murmuring something that sounded like Latin.
Danse held his breath, mentally shaking his head at the horrible death the young woman was about to be the victim of. Three ferals were within striking range, and he could actually see their hands reaching out for her moving as if in slow motion.
No… they actually were moving in slow motion. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight as a strange hum seemed to envelope the entire courtyard. He felt a strange wave of drowsiness overcome him and leave just as suddenly, as if a spectre had passed over him and deemed his soul unworthy of claiming. The veteran of countless battles took a step back and surveyed the tactical area, noting that every ghoul that set foot inside were caught fast as if moving through tar.
The blonde girl flippantly tossed her hair back and tapped her red lips with her stick, as if pondering what to do next. Though her back was now to him, he could sense from her body language that she was reticent about whatever she planned to do next.
With a profound sigh, the woman brandished her wand again, her barely audible murmuring bearing a tinge of regret. Several pieces of detritus rose up into the air and shivered for a moment, as if unsure of their newly found powers of locomotion. They oriented themselves like arrows pointing at fully half of the ghouls within the perimeter. She lowered her hand almost dismissively and it was as if tension had been released from a bow, the jagged pieces of metal and wood flying unerringly to strike their targets.
Whatever technology she was using to slow time clearly did not affect the dead, for as each ghoul was struck, the hapless soul would fall in a nerveless heap as if the puppets' strings had been cut. With nearly half of the ferals down, Danse finally felt the stirring of hope. As disturbing as her sudden appearance was, not to mention the frightening technology she apparently wielded, she had come to them in their darkest hour and given them more than a fighting chance.
The woman turned and fixed Danse with a gaze that spoke of her regret at having to use violence, and after a moment she walked up and past him, ostensibly to aid Haylen and Rhys.
"The time slow charm will not last much longer, so do you what have to do." She whispered resignedly.
Danse nodded and stalked to each remaining ghoul and put it down with ruthless and professional efficiency.
POV: Daphne
"Hunh… thanks Haylen… I, wha? Who the hell are you?" The man asked angrily, as if personally affronted that it was her instead of his girlfriend who had healed him.
"She's the lady that just saved our lives and patched you up, Rhys." The woman stated sourly, her ire obviously directed at the stubborn mule of a boyfriend.
"Yeah well, no one does something for nothing." He muttered, eyeing Daphne suspiciously.
"That's enough." Danse tersely ordered, stomping up the stairs to the landing with the rest of the team. He turned to her and removed his helm.
"Thank you for the assistance civilian, but what is your business here?" Though the question was abrupt, there was a kindness in his eyes that made Daphne bite back the sarcastic response she had about to deliver.
"I was travelling nearby and saw that you were in a spot of trouble. I couldn't just leave you to it."
"Seeing you drop in and engage those ferals… how did you manage that anyway? And where are you from?"
"Look, I'm happy to share answers with you, but you need to drop the interrogation routine."
He could not have missed the somewhat put off expression as his tone softened, "I apologize if I appear suspicious, our mission here hasn't been easy."
"Mission? Are you part of some kind of military unit?"
At his nod, Daphne sighed and decided that perhaps if she were honest, then he would return the favor. He and his team were very nearly overwhelmed after all, and she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt for the moment.
"My name is Daphne Greengrass, I come from Salem. I'm a witch."
His face was blank for a moment, as if not quite registering what she had said, "I'm sorry, did you say witch?"
Daphne held up her wand, "Yes. A witch. As in charms, hexes, curses… etc. I was flying overhead and saw you surrounded by these poor souls. I used magic to land safely, to slow time and then to eliminate some of them as humanely as possible."
"Why bother? Their just ferals!" the man demanded.
"They were people once!" Daphne snapped, "They may not have much grasp on that now, and the only way to deal with them may be to kill them, but it doesn't mean we can't do so as a mercy."
"That's enough Rhys. Haylen, take Knight Rhys inside. Get some rest. When you feel up to it, I want the perimeter secured and patrolled."
"Yes sir." They both answered.
"Come on big guy, let's finish getting you patched up." Haylen said with affection.
"Heh, okay mom." Rhys replied, his tone surprisingly affectionate despite how much of an asshole he was 2 seconds ago.
When the pair had disappeared inside, Danse turned back to Daphne.
"I'm having a little trouble processing what you are telling me. But I am an excellent judge of character and your actions are what count with me. So, for myself and my team, thank you."
Daphne smiled at the heartfelt appreciation, "You're welcome. Now I've answered your question, how about mine? Who are you?"
"I'm Danse, a Paladin with the Brotherhood of Steel."
"Brotherhood of Steel? What's that?"
"We seek to understand the nature of technology, to learn from it. And to keep it from being abused again." He motioned to the devastation around them, "Humanity is on the brink of annihilation, we cannot afford to make the same mistakes again."
"Sounds like a noble cause." Daphne noted, thinking back to the day of devastation the muggles had wrought with their atomic weapons.
"I'm pleased you think so, not everyone feels that way."
"In fact, if you're willing, I could use your help in another matter."
Daphne looked up into the sky and wondered how far Harry might be from Cambridge then, worry making her gnaw on her lips as she considered.
"At least come inside and hear me out."
"Of course." Daphne relented, walking in as he held the door open for her.
"Oh, was this a police station?" She asked as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.
"It was, we thought it would make a good temporary location from which to conduct our operations."
"Speaking of, you didn't say why you were here in the Commonwealth."
"We're a recon team. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than that… unless you agree to help."
Military and their secrets, Daphne thought. "Alright, what is it that you need?"
"My squad and I have been under assault almost constantly since we've arrived at the Commonwealth. We're cut off and running low on supplies. We need to make contact with our leadership to gain relief or reinforcement." Danse explained.
"Sir, if I may?" Haylen interrupted.
"Go ahead Haylen."
"The tower on the roof of this building is intact. I can use it to boost the signal of our communications, but we're missing a vital piece of technology to make it work."
"What we need is a deep range transmitter. It has the power to push our signal all the way back to our headquarters."
"I don't have one." Daphne stuttered hesitantly, not even sure what such a device would look like.
"You misunderstand, we've located a facility that likely has what we need. A place called ArcJet systems. I'm a man down and could use your help to secure the device."
"Oh." Daphne thought it over for a moment, "Can you show me what it looks like?"
Danse walked over to a long counter and bent over to retrieve something. He brought back a boxy device small enough to fit in his hand, but too large to be a mobile.
"This is a pulse beacon, a deep range transmitter would look very similar to this."
Daphne concentrated for a moment before raising her wand, "Accio deep range transmitter!"
She waited for a moment, looking up and around in a way that the others surely thought was odd.
"May I ask what you are doing?" Danse asked, his face making it look as if he may be talking to a loon.
"Sorry, worth a shot. Little bit of magic, calls an item to the witch or wizard who summons it. But I don't really know what a deep range transmitter is and so the magic probably doesn't know what I'm asking it to do."
Danse nodded, some relief coming over him, "Alright. After seeing the things you can do, I expect that things like that would become commonplace if we were to associate further. On that note, are you willing to help the Brotherhood?"
Daphne smiled at the stiff, uptight soldier, "I'd be willing to help you."
In a strange but happy coincidence, the mirror shard that she has been carrying began to hum in her pocket.
Smiling widely, she pulled it free and focused at the image taking shape within it.
"Harry!" Daphne beamed, "Wow, you got the mirror back quickly!"
"The minuteman at Greygarden was right, that really was a fast owl." He answered.
"It's good to see you for real… you know what I mean." Daphne blushed.
"Me too. But where are you? And whose the angry looking tosser behind you?"
Daphne looked up and saw a thoroughly confused Danse standing behind her. She held up the mirror so that he could see inside it, for a moment she thought he would recoil right through the wall as he stepped back in astonishment. But his discipline took over and he steeled his face.
"This is a communications device?"
"Yeah, it's a two way mirror. Harry is the leader of the Salem settlement and has the other mirror. Now don't be a goose! Introduce yourself!"
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Paladin Danse. Your friend here engaged feral ghouls and in the process saved the lives of myself and my team. You should be proud."
Daphne felt her heart leap up into her throat as Danse so blithely went on about what she had done… and she went a little bit pale when she accepted the mirror back from Danse and looked at a very surprised looking Harry.
"Well… I guess I won't have to worry about any more lectures from you about putting myself in danger, will I?" Harry teased.
"Anyway!" Daphne said loudly, "Where are you? We're here at the Cambridge Police station. I, uh, came to meet you." She said sheepishly, realizing belatedly that she had ruined the surprise.
The look on his face said it all, "I should have known. We are almost to the opposite side. I'm sticking close to the coach in case of any issues though, we heard from Jonathan that the place was full of ferals."
Danse nodded at that, "More here than I've seen together in one place before."
"We're going to take it slow and stealthy. We've got children with us, so I'd rather avoid a fight if I can."
"Children? Perhaps we should assist." Danse suggested, already moving to do just that.
"That would be contrary to the quiet approach. Remember how you didn't see me until I dropped in on you?" At his nod, she continued, "I had a disillusionment charm veiling me. It doesn't make one fully invisible to the senses, but it does well to shield us unless someone is prepared, focused and has magical ability. If they keep quiet, the magic will do the rest and they will be through with the ferals none the wiser. But if we do it another way, it may very well call in every ghoul in the city."
Danse nodded at her reasoning, "Yes, I must agree with your tactical assessment. Please ask your people to come to the police station, Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys can welcome them when they arrive. In the meantime, if you are ready, we can head to ArcJet and retrieve the technology. It isn't far, so it shouldn't take us but a few hours."
Daphne could almost feel the weight of Harry's displeasure across the mirror, but to his credit, he put on a smile and winked at her. Daphne felt immeasurable pride at that simple gesture, for it spoke to his unshakeable faith and trust in her. She was certain that when they had first awakened in the room of requirement in what had felt like a lifetime ago, that faith would have been misplaced. But in the intervening time, she had truly grown as both a witch and as a woman.
Danse cleared his throat, and Daphne flushed in embarrassment at what her moment of self-reflection must have looked like from the outside.
"Sorry, Paladin. Harry? I'm going to help Paladin Danse retrieve the technology they need. Make your way to the Cambridge Police station and we'll meet up here."
If Harry looked worried, he hid it well as he replied, "Ok. Paladin Danse? Could I get a moment alone with Daphne?"
"Of course. I'll be gearing up for our mission, when you are ready, meet me out front."
As he tromped away, Daphne too the added precaution of using a charm to frustrate any attempts at subterfuge from the others, though she didn't think it likely.
Daphne steeled herself, had she jumped to a conclusion and Harry was about to chide her decision?
"What do you think of these people?" Harry asked, his tone neutral.
"They seem honest enough. Very strict military types, they've had a rough go of things, but they are just an advance force… they need that muggle device to help them call home for help."
"Why are there in the Commonwealth?"
"They wouldn't go into specifics, just said they were here to look about."
Harry went silent for a moment, as if pondering.
"Harry, what is it?"
Shaken from his reverie, Harry flashed her a grin and shook his head, "It's probably nothing. There are just so many things happening. I have to consider everything and make sure that our people are protected."
Daphne nodded, "I see, so this doesn't have anything to do with me deciding to go along with the Paladin?"
"Oh no, you are absolutely brilliant and more than that, I trust you. I don't just love you for your looks you know."
Daphne beamed at that. "You are thinking ahead of what a relationship with these people could mean then." She asked rhetorically.
"We're making good progress, but we're stretched thin with so many problems with magic. If this thing works out with Morgan, it may prove to be the help we've been needing. But the Minutemen are growing in influence and strength and I need to make sure that Salem doesn't fall under their shadow. The time that we lived in secret from muggles is over."
Daphne frowned, "But surely Jonathan wouldn't…"
"Not Jonathan." Harry stressed, "But he won't be their leader forever. We need to make sure what we build endures. I'm happy to have us be part of a community, but in the end, we are different from the muggles and we need to make sure we keep some kind of distance. We will not be anyone's vassals."
Daphne had never heard Harry talk like this, but ever since he was unofficially appointed as their leader, he has borne the burden of their survival in this new and frightening world.
She hoped that the Paladin hadn't been waiting too long as she finally exited the police station and found him calmly waiting in the courtyard. He turned at the sound of the door and simply asked if she was ready to proceed. Nodding in the affirmative, he set a brisk pace through a nearby alleyway and onto a street that continued adjacent to some body of water. Daphne wasn't clear on her geography, but she suspected that the road ran very near to where Harry and the others would have come. If they had left earlier, they may have even run into them.
As they jogged, Danse answered her questions about the Brotherhood with candor, though he kept certain details to himself. Probably something relating to their security or somesuch. It wasn't long before the Commonwealth reared its ugly side and they witnessed a shootout between a group of raiders and a trader of some kind. Danse was quick to intervene and put his laser rifle to use, rapidly gunning down the obviously poorly equipped gang.
Daphne lent her strength where she felt it most suited, to the protection of the trader and her company. Tossing shields over them, even at a distance, proved no more taxing than taking a breath and Daphne made her contribution to the battle by blasting the last raider out over the water. She had time for several breaths before the screaming man went silent after a distant splash.
"Very impressive." Danse commented, "You secured the civilians and dealt with that last hostile very efficiently."
Daphne smiled her thanks at the compliment, the words still new to her ears after years of hiding what she could do from muggles. They continued travelling and turned north up an incline toward a building that she suspected was Arcjet. A static display of a pre-war flying machine confirmed her theory, as did the fading but still legible letter above the door.
"ArcJet systems. Intel suggests that there is no exterior security for us to worry about, but still, be on your guard. Follow me in."
POV: Hermione
"I'll be fine." Jonathan insisted, rising despite Hermione's full weight pressing down on him. She supposed she could tie him up in magical binding, but hesitated to use magic on him for some reason. It was as though it felt wrong to use it on someone she…
He fell back with a grunt, which grabbed her attention immediately.
"Well, maybe a few more minutes." Jonathan conceded, his face twisting into a mask of pain.
Hermione sighed at him as she searched through their bags for another stimpack, having already dispensed one on the reluctant patient. Candace stood nearby and chewed her lip in worry, clutching a small teddy bear and hiding behind Daisy's legs.
Jonathan smiled at her, "It's alright Candace. I got a few ouchies, but nothing serious. We'll just get a slightly later start than we had planned. Besides, it's turning out to be a serendipitous delay." He added with a widening grin.
"Oh?" Hermione asked, before remembering that she was talking to the super soldier who could hear a pin drop on the other side of a door… of an apartment building a block away.
"Help me up, please." He pleaded, reaching up and waving his arm in her general direction. With a long-suffering sigh, she clasped his forearm and tugged him into a seated position. He stood with only a slight groan, though he was sure to hold on to her hand 'just in case'.
The others followed after him as he stepped out toward the road where the battle had taken place, careful to avoid the deep runnels of mud that Hermione's waterworks had created an hour prior. Hermione shook her head at him as the caravan came into view, with at four Minutemen guards, three brahmin and at least two traders making their way carefully down the road. Just behind them, a massive sentry bot was turned into a pack animal; it had a harness strapped about its torso which connected via a thick chain to a wheeled cart, which was heavily burdened with raw materials.
"Hello the Slog!" The lead Minuteman called out, the bright yellows stripes standing out on his dark blue sleeve, proclaiming him as a sergeant.
"Sergeant McAvoy." Jonathan smiled, accepting the man's surprised expression and hasty salute with good grace.
"I'm… I'm pleased you remember me sir." The man stammered.
"Tenpines, if memory serves. Rebecca McAvoy was the one who had sent word about raider trouble from the Corvega Factory. How are things now?"
The man stood a little prouder, "You'd be proud of us General. Ever since you came through and helped get those raiders off our backs and get us started improving the settlement, we've expanded and attracted new settlers. We've got over a dozen new families come join us. As soon as we had enough people to take turns manning the defenses, four of us enlisted in the Minutemen. With the help of the Salem folks."
Here he paused and nodded in deference to Hermione, who he clearly recognized, "We've finished putting up the wall and haven't had any raider trouble at all! They take one look at our high walls and turrets and they move right along!"
"Glad to hear it. And I am proud. Proud to see you doing that uniform honor."
Sergeant McAvoy seemed to fairly glow under the praise, Hermione could clearly see how much these men and women idolized their General.
"We were just stopping here to check on the settlers. They're not officially under Minuteman protection, but we try to follow what we think you would do and check in on them anyhow."
Jonathan took a deep breath, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but these three are the only survivors of a recent attack."
McAvoy glanced over at Arlen and the two girls, his face twisting in confusion.
"But… we were just here… I, we traded a turret for 3 baskets of produce on our way back from Greentop!" A trader interjected, his shock just as profound as the Minuteman's.
The others began to murmur in dismay. Jonathan held up his hands to forestall the caravan folks from drafting up wild theories.
"Hermione and I believe it was the Rust Devils. We don't know why they attacked, the Slog, for all their generosity and good produce, don't exactly have a surplus of good tech to scavenge. But we will get to the bottom of this and extract justice for these people, it doesn't matter if they were aligned with the Minutemen or Salem or not. They are good people and deserve for their attackers to answer for themselves."
The people of the caravan nodded grimly in whole-hearted agreement. From the fire stoked in their eyes, it seemed as though they were ready to follow them right then and there.
Jonathan must have seen it too, "I need your help, though." That got their attention.
He glanced over at Hermione, who stepped up and told them what she knew was on his mind.
"These people have been through a terrible loss. They need time to process, to heal and moreover, feel safe. The General and I can't look after them and track down the people who did this."
She felt his hand on her back, the simple gesture all the thanks she needed, or ever wanted.
"We'll take care of them, General." McAvoy vowed, "We'll take them with us to Greentop and see about them getting settled in. Should we report this to Colonel Garvey?"
Jonathan nodded, "Good thinking, Sergeant. Have him increase patrols and send an alert to every settlement to increase their guard. And tell him…" The pause that followed was pregnant, as if he were somehow reticent to give the next order, "Tell him to prepare a strike force. We're re-taking the Castle."
POV: Harry
Though he didn't mean to be, Harry was a little sullen after his conversation with Daphne. Despite his assurances to her, he WAS worried over her accompanying an unknown person into a potentially dangerous situation. Knowing that it would do little good to worry over everything that could go wrong, he decided to get to know Morgan a little better as they crept their way through College Square.
The witch nodded and smiled slightly as Harry entered the carriage, settling himself in next to the young boy who regarded everything around them with wide eyes.
"We were about to head into the menagerie for a time, Mr. Potter. So I'd say that your timing is impeccable."
Harry couldn't contain his grin, "Excellent! I'd love to see more of the survivors from Ilvermorny. The Pukwudgie are quite different from the House elves that I'm used to."
A brief surge of sadness assailed him at the reminder of all that had been lost. Are any elves still out there? He brought to mind Dobbie's face, the tender elf holding his friendship with the wizard so highly…
He brought himself back to the present and vocalized a concern, "If something were to happen while we're in there?"
"Tacitus can handle anything short of an army, I've also asked Cait to keep watch and to let us know if anything untoward happens." Morgan assured him.
Hearing her name, the lively redhead perked up from reading a massive tome, her distaste for the task clearly written on her face.
"I hope something does happen, anything's got to be better than reading through this mess."
Harry glanced over and was surprised that she was holding a first edition copy of Ellison's Magical Primer. He had read through a copy himself and though it was very thorough, Ellison's writing style left much to be desired. The ancient wizard had made a relatively dry subject almost torturous. Still, it was required reading for 1st years, so he had suffered through it.
"My condolences, Cait. I've read it too. Try not to fall asleep." Harry empathized.
Cait merely grunted and bent back to her reading at a sharp look from Morgan.
The children preceded the pair as they entered the trunk into the magical space holding the wonders that Morgan had liberated from Ilvermorny.
Leaning toward him conspiratorially, Morgan murmured, "I've never read it. That wizard is a few hundred years after my time. I just wanted to give Cait something to do while we talk."
Harry chuckled in spite of himself, the spreading panorama of the environment within the trunk adding its own pleasant air to his sudden light hearted mood. He felt something soft nuzzling his hand and his smile broadened as he gently stroked the tawny fur of a Niffler.
"You'd better check your pockets, those things like to abscond with anything shiny they find."
Harry laughed in response then checked his pockets, his laughter disappearing when he realized that his mirror was missing. He turned a dour frown on the niffler, who meekly held up the mirror for him to reclaim.
"Interesting." Morgan mused, "They don't typically give up their prizes so eagerly… you must have a unique connection to magical creatures."
Harry didn't disagree, remembering the many times when he had surprised his friends with his ability to bond with creatures. He was sure it had more to do with dealing with them honestly and free of fear than to any special trait on his part.
The children were delighted to be back and skipped joyfully through the space, Abigail tumbling into Harry to present the niffler with a bottlecap. The creature sniffed at the offering and took it with eager paws, tucking it in some unknown space within its furry body and accepted the child picking him up.
"There was something specific I wanted to show you, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you can explain something to me." Morgan began, once the children had moved off to pester a very patient horned serpent.
"I'd be happy to try." Harry smiled, watching the children climb over the massive creature who lay partly out of a small river.
"I found a reference in one of the books here. A more recent work by someone name Shacklebolt."
Harry's breath caught in his throat at the name. Could it be Kingsley?
She held the small volume out for his inspection, the book bound in some kind of brilliant blue leather that glittered with tiny scales. Written in gold across the spine was the title, "Muggle Observations, volume IX."
He carefully opened it and felt a pang in his heart as he saw in delicate script, the flowing signature of his friend, now long passed.
"I knew him." He murmured quietly, "A good man, a good wizard. He became the Minister of Magic and held that office for many years."
Morgan nodded, "From what I read, Mr. Shacklebolt wrote observations about the muggles and their advances in non-magical technology, especially concerning the period of time when he guarded the British Prime Minister during the second wizarding war."
Harry nodded and Morgan continued, "A second wizarding war?" She prompted.
Harry looked around and found an obliging outcropping of massive roots from a tree and sat, gesturing for Morgan to join him.
As she sat, Harry took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally to delve back into some of the darkest days of his life. He gave her a very abridged version of his struggles against Tom Riddle and the resulting conflict that rocked the wizarding world.
Morgan listened attentively and patiently, letting Harry complete his story before asking questions.
They spoke at some length, Harry finding that retelling the tale of that far-off time was less painful than he thought it would.
"The reason I brought that book to your attention was not precisely to ask about the war, though thank you for satisfying my curiosity. No, what I really wanted to know about, were these formula that he jotted down on page 42."
Harry flipped to the aforementioned page and found, to his surprise, a complex equation that looked more like muggle science than magic. He traced it carefully, though much of it may have been in a different language. He read the passages immediately preceding it and very nearly gasped in realization.
"I take it that it means something to you?" Morgan prodded gently.
"Kingsley had taken an interest in the atomic power being harnessed by the muggles. He saw that they were a unique threat because of the scope of devastation that they were clearly capable of. But he went a step further, apparently he had the assistance of some muggle physicist and was able to work out a metamagic equation that would compensate for the lingering radiation that would occur in the event of exposure."
"I'm not sure I follow." Morgan stated flatly, clearly unused to finding something about which she was completely ignorant.
"You see. Man had discovered a way to harness power from splitting the atom. But it's like playing with fire, it can be a useful tool, but it can easily get out of control… Obviously. The current status of the world today is linked to the Great War that the muggles unleashed, thousands of atomic weapons used against each other and ruining our planet."
"Does that explain why the world still hadn't recovered? Something about the lingering radiation he mentions?" she asked, tapping a manicured finger on the tome.
"Not really. The radiation released during a nuclear explosion would dissipate in a matter of decades. What we are dealing with now is the fallout from the muggle's overreliance on fission and fusion devices to power their society. Once the bombs struck, the radioactive fuel from cars, planes, and power plants were exposed. The explosions likely spread material from these sources all over the place, and particles of plutonium and uranium still float around irradiating everything with deadly particles."
"This equation is a modification that can be overlayed on a number of charms." Morgan noted, "Though I am unfamiliar with much of it. It's far more advanced from anything in my time."
Harry considered that, he hadn't really thought that the understanding of magic would have evolved over time, though of course it must have. He looked at Morgan in a new light… perhaps there were things that he and his friends could teach the ancient sorceress.
"We've run into a few issues with many of our charms. It seems that radiation is attracted to us when we use them, which has nearly killed me on a number of occasions. It's too early to tell, but I think by applying this metamagic to those charms, we could alleviate that entirely and remove the handicap that we've been forced to operate under since we got here."
"I'm pleased that it will prove useful. There are a number of volumes in the library that I haven't gone through yet. Perhaps there are more discoveries awaiting us."
Harry was never one to get excited over books, though the implications of the knowledge just in the one he held in his hands was dizzying. Lilith and especially Hermione would go absolutely barmy over them. If the Commonwealth were taken aback at what they could do, just wait until the limitations imposed by the post-apocalyptic environment were no longer a factor!
POV: Cait
"Are you ready to put that book down?" Harry asked with a grin, his head and shoulders popping up from the open trunk.
She tossed it down in disgust, inwardly wincing as a few pages came loose from the binding as the old book bounced across the floor of the carriage.
"I was ready before I ever picked it up, boyo." She practically snarled.
Harry peered out the window of the carriage and noted that they were about halfway through the square, "There's some barriers blocking our path, I think we can do some practical training and have you move them for us."
Cait peered out at the concrete barriers critically, "Those blocks are hundreds of pounds, you expect me to be able to move them?"
"It's not the size that matters, Cait."
"Is that what your girlfriend told ya? She lied."
Harry coughed, glancing back down as if making sure that the children were not in earshot. His cheeks had flushed a brilliant shade of crimson and he averted his eyes while climbing the rest of the way out of the trunk.
"It was a joke, lad. Don't get yer panties in a bunch. Although, if it bothers ye so much, ye could whip little Potter out fer me and lay any doubts to rest."
Harry ignored the jibe and pulled out one of the wands he took from the trunk for her to take, "Take this, let's see if it accepts you. I took a chance that this one would be the one for you."
Cait took the offered wand with a wry grin, "This isn't the wand I was talking about." She said lasciviously.
Harry coughed unnecessarily and fixed her with an exasperated look.
"Fine." She sighed, muttering under her breath.
For the next several minutes, Harry patiently directed Cait's actions to levitate and move the large concrete barriers from the coaches' path. She had to admit that Harry was a good teacher, relating what she needed to do in terms she could understand and exhibiting a seemingly inexhaustible fount of patience.
Cait wiped the sweat from her forehead with the hand holding the wand, the slender device seemingly accepting her without protest. It was more tiring than she had expected, though Harry explained that the magic wasn't drawing on her energy, that it was more of a side effect of her nervousness at wielding it for the first time.
Thankfully, the shifting and grinding of the concrete blocks did not attract much attention, as only one feral shifted… because the block it had been lying against suddenly moved, and merely shuffled to another spot to lie down in. The coach rumbled along, Harry taking the precaution of renewing the silencing charms which shielded their passage. An orange flag came briefly into view above the roofline of the buildings to their right, with a symbol that resembled a sword surrounded by a cog-like device.
"I think we're getting close to the police station. We'll make contact with the folks that Daphne was talking about and stay there until she gets back." Harry announced, just as the trunk lid opened and Morgan appeared from within. He repeated his announcement for her benefit, to which she merely shrugged, the movement somehow incongruous with the witch but also lending the woman a link with modern humanity.
POV: Hermione
"You're brooding." Hermione chided him gently, as the pair of them followed the tracks left by the robotic butchers of the Slog.
They had left later that morning, after seeing to it that the caravan would indeed be able to take care of the three refugees. They had them well in hand and promised to relay his orders to Preston. From there, following the trail left behind by the killers had proven quite easy, as if they not only made no effort to hide their tracks, but dared anyone to follow.
His attitude had shifted noticeably ever since he had told the Sergeant about re-taking the Castle. She knew that Preston had been pressing him on it, but up until that point, he had demurred.
"The castle? So tell me why that bothers you so much." She pressed, going so far as to pull him to a stop and make him face her.
Though his eyes were on her, whatever he saw was far away. "I always dreamed of becoming a hero. I ate up those stories the scientists would tell us. About how desperate the Commonwealth was and how we were the perfect remedy for all their ills. They had fabricated a great deal, but they didn't exaggerate the situation up here, if anything, they underestimated. So after we had won our freedom from their experiments, I thought we'd all go on to do great things. Most of the ones I knew are now dead. Some of them because I killed them."
His voice had grown hoarse at this point, and the pain she saw in his eyes almost made her heart break for him.
"We quickly found that we were so much stronger, faster and smarter than the people we were meant to save. To most of my people, it made them think that it made them simply 'better'. Deserving of more than the adulations due to heroes… the obedience due to tyrants."
"Cypress was once one of us. Last I heard, he now leads the Gunners."
'So that was it.' Hermione thought. It was one thing to be proclaimed a General yet still be free to wander the Commonwealth and simply help where he could as his conscience demanded. It was another thing entirely to have a seat of power from where he could degenerate into the same tyrant he so vehemently opposed. As if having a place like that tripped some magical switch inside a person's head and changed who they were.
"Do you really think that it will change who you are? That you'll suddenly lord it over everyone if the reins of power come to your hands?" Hermione nearly scoffed at the notion, her tone clearly showing disdain for that theory.
"There are times, in the back of my head, that I think that I am better." He admitted, "There are times when I think, maybe I should take leadership. That I do have the answers and that the Commonwealth would be a great deal better under me than it has been since the war!"
"Are you wrong?" She pressed.
"That isn't the point! It's all for nothing if it isn't a choice freely made!"
"And what? You think that the world and the people in it will suddenly decide to stop butchering each other long enough to form a society where everyone's freedoms are respected? That isn't how things worked before the war, it sure as bloody hell isn't the way it is now."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, "It's a temptation, Hermione. If somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel superior… then people start treating me like I am… I don't want to live long enough to become the very villain I've been fighting against all this time."
"That's not even a problem you bloody idiot! I can do things that most of you can't even dream of! Aren't you afraid that I'll go barmy and decide to make everyone my slave?"
He stared blankly at her for a moment, blinking in surprise, "But, you could never…"
"Exactly! And neither would you! No matter how many times I think that people are morons, which right now includes you, I don't take that plunge and decide that they are too stupid to make their own decisions. And for years, you never crossed that line either despite having every chance to do so. Besides, I'm staying by your side for the rest of your life, which will be painfully short if you don't stop being so thick!"
Though charged with righteous fury for most of her tirade, she couldn't help but nearly dissolve into giggles at the last, especially when he cracked a grin at her.
He took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, his hot breath mingling with hers and yet leaving her breathless.
"I do so love you, Ms. Granger." He breathed.
"And I love you. Are you done being an idiot?" She didn't wait for an answer, simply pushing past him gently and stalking off through the trees. It was an effective way to get her bearings after that kiss, as she was sure that her cheeks must be glowing.
"Yes ma'am." She heard him murmur, and this time, she didn't bother to hide how much that meant to her as he caught up and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.
POV: Danse
Danse could only gasp in surprise at the woman, this self-proclaimed 'witch'. He had been constantly astounded and impressed with the woman's abilities and this latest display was no exception.
They had successfully infiltrated the facility only to find that the defenses had already been disposed of, and due to the lack of blood or bullet casings, he could only conclude that synths were responsible. He was surprised that Ms. Greengrass hadn't encountered the Institute abominations yet, and was sure to brief her on their capabilities.
She had just re-activated the power to the elevator when a large number of synths descended the silo like chamber to fall all around him, opening fire with their brilliant blue lasers immediately. His armor began to blare with internal alarms as he took fire from multiple angles. The fire suddenly ceased and Danse silenced the alarms to find that every synth was suspended in the air, held helpless and immobile in the grip of some invisible force.
He glanced over at Daphne, her hair dancing about her head as if stirred by a brisk wind. Her face was the picture of concentration and her wand was held commandingly in front of her. Slashing down with emphasis, the synths suddenly plunged downward with excessive force, their bodies shattering as they struck the ground.
"Are you alright?" Daphne asked, nearly out of breath.
"Affirmative. Are you?"
"Oh yeah." She answered between breaths, "Once I turned the back-up generators on, I heard those 'things' and came running. I really need to get more exercise!"
"Well, you have my thanks. It would be best not to linger, we're close to our objective. We need to hurry before the synths beat us to it."
They clamored into the now-functioning elevator and rode it in silence to the top of the rocket test chamber. At the apex of their trip, the doors opened with a friendly ding and revealed the operations center accessible via the gantry that was still intact on this level.
Daphne moved ahead of Danse and peered in through the armored glass that separated the chamber from operations. The glass was dirty and yellowed with age, but she didn't spot any movement. Danse caught up with her and by dint of his armored bulk, insisted that he take the lead.
The sudden flash of blue laser blasts searing from the room punctuated the wisdom of that maneuver, as his power armored frame effectively blocked the searing lines of killing light from penetrating her much less protected flesh. Daphne, realizing that she had let her shielding charm lapse when a laser cut so close as to uncomfortably heat her arm, flourished her wand to do just that.
She felt the rough grated floor strike her rump, her breath whooshing from her lungs. She was confused… how had she suddenly ended up on the floor?
Danse glanced back even as he continued to fire into the mob swarming through the open door and shouted, "Daphne!"
"What? I'm ok… I just tripped I guess." She went to rise and had to bite back a scream as a burning pain flared across her middle. She glanced down and almost went into shock at the blasted, blackened skin of her stomach. Fluid began to ooze from the cracks in the charred flesh made when she tried to stand, the scent of cooking flesh sending waves of nausea rolling over her. She clasped a stimpack with trembling fingers and plunged it directly into the cooked skin, stifling a scream as the raw flesh beneath the charring made its displeasure known.
To help the stimpack along, Daphne murmured a quick charm to aid the healing process and gritted her teeth as she fought to regain her feet. Channeling her pain, she called up the magic and send sentient lightning flashing past Danse to lance the three synths in the lead. The massive surge of electricity sparked and fused their components even as their plastic outer covering smoked and melted in rivulets. Several small explosions across their bodies preceded their fall in an ungainly heap.
Daphne fell back against the cool metal wall and fought to catch her breath, an insistent itching sensation making her want to scratch at her healing stomach. Danse stalked forward to finish off the remaining enemies, giving her a moment to relax.
"Area secure, I have the transmitter. How are you holding up?" Danse asked, his voice surprisingly soft through his helmet speakers.
Daphne tenderly prodded her stomach, the burnt flesh falling away to reveal pink sensitive skin beneath.
"I'll be fine, it just caught me by surprise."
"Indeed. I'm relieved that you weren't hurt worse. I thought at first that you had taken a direct hit."
"I did." She admitted.
"Then how… you know what? Never mind. I've seen enough to know that I have no idea how much I don't know about your kind. I am pleased that I have you on my side instead of against it though."
"Did you find the device?" She asked.
He held up a piece of muggle technology, "I did. Mission successful. We can take the elevator from the ops center to the surface. Once we're free from this place, I have something serious I need to ask you."
Intrigued, Daphne walked after Danse, the pain from her wound already fading into memory.
A/N: So, less of a cliff hanger this time around. Sorry it took longer than I had planned to finish up this chapter.
I have to note something about some of the reviews I've gotten for this fic. There seems to be a very wide range of opinion on the quality of my work, from those that absolutely love it to those who hate it. I wonder if it's simply because it's a Harry Potter fanfic and therefore invites such intense scrutiny or is it something else? In any case, I am pleased that many of you have enjoyed this story and for those that didn't, well, can't please everyone. Until next time!