Chapter 6 - Doubts, Answers, and Miracles
Aboard the Prydwen, Scribe Haylen paced along the ship's hull. Shipping containers hid her from prying eyes; after all, privacy was a difficult thing to come by when stuck aboard a flying aircraft with over five hundred other people aboard. She did one last perimeter check before squatting down behind a large yellow shipping container. She hoped the Prydwen's loud idle buzz would mask her voice.
Scribe Haylen had a problem, and it had been building and gnawing at her until she could do nothing else but grab the portable holotape recorder from Proctor Quinlan's office and spill her heart out and then destroy the evidence later. This wasn't a problem that she could go to someone else with. Nobody aboard would understand, and she had caused enough trouble already by speaking out.
Her trembling hand pressed the record button on the machine and she placed the microphone close to her mouth.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and then said, "Field Scribe Haylen, personal log entry 324A."
She paused, only for a half second to listen for footsteps that might've betrayed any eavesdroppers and then said,
"I'm starting to wonder if joining the Brotherhood of Steel was a good choice. I originally signed up seeking protection and comradeship but I'm worried that I've traded away a bit of my humanity in the process. The Brotherhood's message of hope for the future is idealistic and noble but their methods leave a lot to be desired. The - the leadership - " she stumbled briefly due to her nerves, "- seems especially misguided. Instead of diplomacy, they wield violent confrontation to exert control. Despite all that, I've avoided the majority of the fighting, killing only when I have to, by following the career path of a field scribe. I suppose only time will tell how long I can stand the sight of spilled blood over my own moral fiber."
She pressed the stop button on the holotape recorder, ejected the tape, and pocketed the evidence before stepping out from behind the shipping crates.
Her heart thudded in her chest. She kept the holotape recorder hidden behind her left leg as she walked, but as she approached the metal staircase she saw what she had been dreading.
"Scribe Haylen." A deep voice said.
Her heart plummeted. "P-Paladin Danse." She stammered
Danse wasn't in his usual Power Armor. The tight fitting orange jumpsuit that all Knights and Paladins wore clung to his body in a way that Haylen both loathed and appreciated. He descended the metal staircase far quieter than a man of his impressive size had a right to and stood before Haylen.
"What are you doing down here?" He asked in an even voice. His thick eyebrow quirked at the holotape recorder that poked out from behind her leg but he said nothing else.
"I - um..."
"Haylen..."
She sighed in defeat. Nothing could get past Danse. "I - I was just blowing off some steam, sir. Honestly, I didn't mean anything by it. After what happened at the Cambridge Police Station and after being stuck on this ship instead of being out in the field with the rest of the Scribes, I just had to vent. I was going to destroy the tape as soon as I got back to my bunk."
"Does Proctor Quinlan know you have his holotape recorder?" He asked.
"No sir." Haylen replied.
Danse's face fell and he sighed. "Haylen I know you're having a hard time right now. Ever since the loss of our recon squad and Worwick's death you haven't been the same soldier." His voice softened. "The same person."
Haylen closed her eyes trying to forget Worwick's pleading eyes as both he and Danse demanded that she end it for him. She knew she had done the right thing when she gave him the overdose. As he slipped away peacefully and as Haylen tried to hold back her tears, she saw what war was really about. This was not the type of life expected when she joined up with the Brotherhood back in the Capital Wasteland. War really was Hell.
"I - I know that sir." She replied hollowly. "I'm trying."
Danse nodded. "I know you are Haylen. You are a brilliant Scribe and a valuable soldier. Having doubts about a mission is common, but Elder Maxson will not tolerate dissent among the ranks. Not while we are so close to cleansing the Commonwealth of the Institute and their abominations. So I suggest you destroy that holotape like you said before the Elder hears you critiquing his leadership."
Haylen winced. So Danse had overheard her then, she thought.
"I didn't mean it, sir." She said more emphatically. "Like I said, I was just blowing off steam."
He nodded in sympathy. "Your outspokenness is a trait I admire in you Haylen."
She blushed at his compliment but couldn't meet his eye.
"But don't let that virtue become a vice." He scolded, "If you want to effect change, do your job well like you have been doing. Trust in Elder Maxson's vision for us and for the Commonwealth. Our Elder isn't wrong."
Haylen was forced to nod. That was where she and Paladin Danse differed. Elder Maxson was many things, but a hero wasn't one of them. Unlike the rest of the soldiers aboard, Scribe Haylen couldn't kiss his ass. She respected him and obeyed him because that was the duty of being a Brotherhood soldier, but she could never agree with his vision.
Paladin Danse stepped towards her and placed a large hand on her shoulder. "Haylen, sacrifice is just part of what being a Brotherhood soldier is about. It doesn't make it easier, but know that there are other people here to listen. You can always come to Knight Rhys or myself. Stealing Proctor Quinlan's technology isn't necessary."
Haylen stifled a snort. Talking to Knight Rhys about anything other than the Brotherhood's glory was about as thrilling as talking to a wall. She couldn't believe that she once had a crush on the man. But their six month marooning at the Cambridge Police Station straightened that out quickly.
"I appreciate that Paladin." She replied. "I'll keep that in mind."
He nodded and removed his hand. The warmth of his touch lingered on her shoulder like a sunburn.
"Now go and put the holotape recorder back before Proctor Quinlan puts you on latrine duty. You know how particular he gets about people touching his stuff." Danse half-heartedly scolded.
Scribe Haylen saluted the Paladin and snuck back off into the darkness. Danse sighed and ran his hand through his cropped hair. He had a soft spot for Scribe Haylen. Although Knight Rhys was the one who originally sponsored her membership into the Brotherhood, Danse was her immediate superior which meant that her actions reflected upon him as well.
Normally, her actions were of Brotherhood caliber: she was quick witted, intelligent, and far braver than a Scribe should be. He had seen her charge into a Super Mutant encampment with nothing but her gun and her nerve to protect her. She was the type of woman he admired, but her increased moments of insubordination concerned him.
Paladin Danse walked back up the metal stairs climbing the three flights that led to his private quarters. As the highest ranking Paladin, he was held to a higher standard than most and that expectation extended to those who served under him - including Scribe Haylen.
Her outburst during Elder Maxson's debriefing after the Mass Fusion debacle was just the first in a long line of recent infractions. If she wasn't careful, she'd be looking at a written censure and a demotion back to the rank of Initiate.
Danse opened the bottle of whisky on his desk and poured himself three fingers full of amber liquid. After years serving in the Brotherhood, he was adept at compartmentalizing his feelings; he had to if he wanted to do perform amid the terror and death that he saw every day. But something about Haylen's behavior nagged at him. The words he overheard echoed in his mind: Instead of diplomacy, they wield violent confrontation to exert control. Danse would never admit to this, not even to Haylen herself, but perhaps she was right.
After the tragedies of Elder Lyons's and Sarah Lyons's death at the hands of the Enclave, the Brotherhood of Steel was still in a position to be diplomatic. They once had the support from Rivet City, his home, and they could've at least protected Rivet City from the Enclave or worked collaboratively with them to protect Madison Li's valuable scientific experiments, but the Brotherhood, lead by young Knight Maxson, chose to cannibalize the aircraft carrier for parts to build the Prydwen.
His successor, and his own commanding officer, Paladin Krieg had him out on a extermination mission at the Adams Air Force Base when it had happened. He wasn't there to see his beloved home torn apart, the people forced to either flee into the DC ruins or join the Brotherhood. He was at least thankful that his best friend, Cutler, didn't have to hear about the news. He had been dead for a full week by the time Danse arrived back to the skeletal remains of Rivet City.
So of course he could understand Haylen's doubts. He had doubts of his own then. Like Haylen, he had been younger and far more inflexible in his own values. It took him a long time to see that the Brotherhood had done Rivet City a mercy. Like the bullet that ended Cutler's life after he had been mutated into one of those abominations, the Brotherhood had consumed Rivet City so that many others would have a place to live among their ranks. With the Citadel gone, Adams Air Force Base, and by extension the Prydwen, was the last bastion of hope for humanity before they were forced to abandon the Capital Wasteland to its fate.
The burning liquor warmed him and pulled a flush of blood to his cheeks. His dark eyes fixated over the Power Armor helmet that sat on his desk. That helmet, along with his suit, represented everything that he valued: strength, loyalty, duty, and honor. How could the Brotherhood be wrong when those were the qualities they lived and breathed?
No. Haylen needed to see this in her own time, he thought. She was still young and he hoped that in a few months or a couple of years that she'd see the Brotherhood was right in the end.
"Paladin Danse." Elder Maxson's voice echoed through the Prydwen's PA system. "Please report to the bridge for your briefing on your next mission."
Danse gulped down the remainder of the whisky and shuddered. He took the Power Armor helmet from his desk and climbed into his suit which was sitting in the frame.
"Ad Victoriam." He murmured and slipped the helmet over his head.
"Please! We need to get back on task." Dr. Li snapped.
Nora and Dr. Secord glared at each other from across the meeting room table. The meeting hadn't gone five minutes before Dr. Secord had baited Nora with a jibe about lowering herself to sleeping with a synth and Nora had retaliated with colorful remarks of her own.
"Dr. Li is right." Nora said, using all of her self-control to keep her tongue in check. "I'm sorry. Let's get back to talking about the Brotherhood's latest movements."
"Thank you." Dr. Li replied wearily. She turned on a projector that was sitting on the meeting room table and dimmed the lights.
"These images were taken by our remote Gen-1 synths. Their optical functions can send pictures and brief video recordings back to us." She said.
The first image up on the wall was of a six man team of Brotherhood soldiers shooting at something off towards the Charles River. Nora assumed that it was the synth that was taking the picture because the CIT ruins could be clearly seen in the background.
"Our synths have recorded eight teams that have investigated various areas of Institute importance in the Commonwealth. They've sent two of those eight teams to scope out the ruins; it's no doubt that they are trying to find a way in through the old college itself. The other six teams have been seen at the Boston Mayoral Shelter, ArcJet Sytems, Mahkra Fishpacking Plant, Malden Center, University Point, and Sandy Coves Convalescent Home
Dr. Li pressed a button on a small remote and a collage of pictures came up showing each location.
"The first four locations are areas that the Institute is currently using for salvage, especially valuable Pre-War tech and aluminum, but the last two locations are particularly problematic for us."
"How so?" Nora asked.
Dr. Li sighed, "Like the Broken Mask Incident, the Institute's involvement in the events at University Point weren't exactly our finest moments. A young woman had found research on improving nuclear reactor efficiency and wanted to sell the information to help feed her family. She sent word to some traders but Kellogg got to her first."
Nora's heart dropped. "So she's dead?"
Dr. Li's shrewd eyes met hers. "They're all dead. Kellogg wiped the town off the map. He sent Institute synths in by the dozens to massacre everything and everyone."
"What did Kellogg want with the research?"
"He didn't want it." Dr. Li replied. "Father did. When Kellogg told Father what the town was hiding, he ordered Kellogg to retrieve it by any means necessary. Our own reactor was nearing the end of its life and this was before we discovered the beryllium agitator existed in the Mass Fusion Building. We needed to prolong our reactor and Father thought that this research would help show us how."
"And did it?" Nora asked. She couldn't keep the venom from her voice.
"No. Kellogg never found the research. The young woman in question didn't have it on her body when she died and our synths have searched that area from top to bottom but we still haven't found the disk." Dr. Li replied.
"Of course. After all, the Institute has done horrible things in the past. Why should this one moment of genocide matter among all of the other sins?" Nora said. Every time she learned more about the Institute's past, the less confident she felt that she could really turn the Institute away from their path of evil.
"I don't recall you caring all that much when you wiped Covenant off the map." Dr. Secord sneered.
"I wouldn't have had to do that if Ayo wasn't trying to manipulate my position as Father's Courser to get into my pants." Nora snapped back.
"I guess these decisions aren't so black and white when you think about your own sins, Mother." Dr. Secord replied snootily.
"That's enough! Both of you." Dr. Li snapped and then flipped to the next picture.
This one was a picture of a picture. An enhanced zoomed in image of a polaroid picture sat on the wall. The polaroid held a picture of a large robot that - based on the scale of the people gathered at its feet - stood at least thirty-five or forty feet tall.
"The Brotherhood has been combing through University Point for the disk that we lost so they can bring this thing -" she gestured at the picture "- back online."
"What is that?" Dr. Holdren asked in thinly veiled amazement.
"That is Liberty Prime." Dr. Li said. "It was constructed in 2277 and it fought in the battle over the Jefferson Memorial against the Enclave. It was destroyed at the Satellite Relay Station south-west of the DC ruins but managed to be salvaged by the Brotherhood of Steel before they fled to the Commonwealth."
"You seem to have an expert's knowledge about this monstrosity." Dr. Holdren replied. "Why's that?"
Nora saw the troubled look that passed over Dr. Li's face and remembered her stories about her past involvement with the Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland.
"You helped them build it, didn't you." Nora said.
Dr. Li didn't move. Her face looked drained but her eyes held a defiant fire that Nora hadn't seen before. "Like you Nora, I was manipulated. They utilized my knowledge and my skills to built a weapon of war. After the Jefferson Memorial fell to the Enclave, I realized that I had been used to create a pawn in their never-ending game war games, and I fled to the Commonwealth."
"So its your fault its here now?" Dr. Secord sneered.
Dr. Li's eyes snapped to hers and the same seething anger that she had tried to temper in Nora flashed to the surface.
"You have NO idea what I've been through. The kind of Hell the Brotherhood put me through. The kind of Hell I had to go through just to make it here." Dr. Li seethed.
"Well that's just great. This is why Father should've never let you join us. Did he know about your little Brotherhood friends before he welcomed you here with open arms?" Dr. Secord sneered. "Or did you hide that little detail waiting for just the right moment to strike."
Nora was about to interject with her own biting comment but Dr. Li leaned over the table. For a woman of her middle age and her slight build, her physical presence wasn't intimidating but the tone that came from her voice cut through the permeable tension like a knife.
"Spare me Alana." She spat. "While you were fraternizing with Ayo hoping he'd promote you to a scientist position on account of your barely legal assets, I was going through my own special kind of Hell you could only imagine. I left the Brotherhood ten years ago and I never looked back. Now I'm here to help us all figure out a way to stop these bastards from destroying another home of mine!"
"All right, all right." Nora interrupted and physically stepped around the table to place herself between the two women. Dr. Holdren and Dr. Filmore looked at Nora wide-eyed and expectantly and she wondered whether her son had to deal with this much drama when he was the Director.
"Let's all take a fifteen minute break and cool down. Dr. Binet should be able to join us by then. I think he'd like to be clued in on these findings."
The room hummed like an electric storm as the four scientists decided what to do.
"That's a good idea." Dr. Li replied. She pulled on her doctor's jacket and grabbed her empty ceramic coffee cup.
"I'll walk with you to get some coffee." Dr. Filmore replied and followed the other woman out of the room.
Dr. Holdren - the man who use to be Nora's second biggest rival voice during their Directorate meetings - looked grateful. "I - um - I'll go check on some of the hydroponics. Fifteen minutes you say?"
Nora nodded mutely. Dr. Holdren quickly left the room which left only one other scientist.
She glanced over at Dr. Secord who met her eyes with a sneer, but the act only lasted a second before she let out an exasperated groan and pushed herself away from the table.
"If Dr. Binet can skip these meetings to talk to your synth boyfriend, then I don't see why I have to be here." She sneered.
All restraint was lost. Nora spat, "Honestly Dr. Secord, you can go fuck yourself."
Dr. Secord huffed and stomped off down the hallway while Nora sank back into a chair. Liberty Prime's emotionless face glowed in the black and white photograph. She imagined how much destruction something like that could actually do.
If the Brotherhood gets this monstrosity back online, she thought, then we're all doomed.
Meanwhile Nick Valentine sat with his back towards the observation window that overlooked the Robotics lab. His stomach churned as he thought about how these synths were actually being made. He wasn't squeamish by any means - living in the Commonwealth had shown him more carnage and horror than he ever remembered seeing as a cop in Boston - but witnessing the actual act of creating a synthetic humanoid made him feel like he was looking into the work of God.
It downright scared him.
Dr. Binet sat facing him. The man's long fingers were folded and his hands were resting on his crossed leg. His face was neutral, although he did look at Nick like he was some sort of perverse ant farm when Nora first introduced him to the synth detective. Despite Dr. Binet's overly eager interest in Nick, the man seemed genuine.
"So Nick," Dr. Binet began, "I'll be the first to admit that finally meeting you has been a great honor. Your ... creation ... was a bit before my time, but I have a lot that I need to thank you for. My work wouldn't be possible without you. I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
Nick nodded politely, "I do. Or I did. But I'll confess that I'm not use to the tables being turned here. Usually I'm the one asking the questions."
Dr. Binet grinned, "My ... the way you talk. It is remarkable how much of Nick actually transferred."
Nick rubbed his intact hand on his pant leg. He desperately wanted a cigarette but he felt strange lighting up in front of the doctor. Even though Dr. Binet hadn't been involved with the first couple phases of Project Genesis, smoking in front of him had the same feel as a fifteen year old smoking in front of his parents. It just didn't seem right.
"So I guess let's start there. Why give me Nick's memories?" He asked. "Outta all the people who signed up for that screwy study, why give me a cop's memories? Did he just draw the short straw that day?"
"When you were created, Dr. Zimmer knew that your creation would help inform our future Gen-3 project. I can't speak for him, but as I'm sure you've read in the notes, most of our early android experiments involved memory experiments with the memories scanned from our U.S. Army volunteers. The first project Zimmer oversaw was our Courser division. Dr. Robert Zimmer piloted the idea when our Gen-1 and Gen-2 synths were being created. If anyone of them malfunctioned, we'd need an advanced synth to send out into the wasteland to bring them back. However Robert's son, Eugene, took it much further."
Nick frowned. Why did that name sound familiar. Aside for reading his transcripts in the Project Genesis files, Nick felt like he knew the younger Zimmer in some way. The skin around his wrists prickled uncomfortably as he tried to seek out the memory.
"If the senior Zimmer was using the U.S. Army's volunteers to structure his Courser team, then why throw a cop into the mix?" Nick asked. "I can handle myself just fine, but I'm no soldier."
Dr. Binet shrugged. "I don't know. I never knew the man well. His son, Eugene Zimmer, took over his father's work but I fear that it ended up killing him. We haven't heard from Dr. Zimmer in over ten years; most of us have assumed that he perished in the wastes."
So that was it, Nick thought. The reason behind his creation lived and possibly died with a missing Institute scientist.
"I know these are probably not the answers you're looking for." Dr. Binet replied gently. "I wish I had something more for you. Really, I do. It's quite possible that your creation was just a way of seeing whether we could implant a full person's memory into a synth. Consider the value that would have in extending a human's life."
"Care to run that by me again?" Nick said. "How would my creation help with that?"
"Your experience showed us that it is capable to download an entire consciousness into a synthetic creation. Granted, your -" Dr. Binet waved his hand as though he was trying to pull the right word from the air. "- your selective amnesia, shall we say, is probably because of Nick Valentine's trauma rather than a fault in the memory sequencing process. According to the reports, it took several tries before his memories finally stuck. But with a normal adult person, we'd be able to scan their brain and if they were to die, then we would download that consciousness into a synth doppleganer. It's a process we've gotten close to perfecting, I might add."
Nick frowned. He knew about the stories of the Institute boogymen kidnapping people in the night and replacing them with synth copies. After all, their illustrious mayor was one of those copies, but ..."
He sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. He felt that the tears in the side of his neck with his fingertips. This body wouldn't last him forever. He had started feeling his processors slowing down around the fifty year mark, and now that he was pushing a hundred and ten years old, Nick wondered just how long Gen-2 bodies could last.
"Would you be able to do that to me?" Nick asked. Then he added quickly, "I don't mean now...mind you, but ..."
Dr. Binet shook his head. "I'm sorry Nick. I'm not saying that it's impossible but scanning you right now wouldn't yield a good transfer. There's too much of Nick Valentine's old memories that either didn't transfer or that you've forgotten as your mind makes room for new space. Synth brains are finite, you know."
Nick nodded. It seemed like a shot in the dark of course but sometimes chasing after those long shots actually worked.
The synth sighed and then broached the topic that bothered him the most. "The files also spoke of another synth who was with me -"
"- Yes, you must mean DiMA." Dr. Binet replied.
"Yeah, uh...DiMA." The name sounded foreign on Nick's tongue. "Were we exactly close? I guess since the reports mentioned that DiMA sprung me from this place in the first place, I figured we must've been friends or something. If a man is willing to do something like that for a fella, I'd like to at least thank him."
"Unfortunately I don't know what happened to him either. According to the records, the his last known whereabout after breaking you out of the Institute was in some ghoul-run settlement somewhere near Salem. None of our Coursers could track his trail from there, and believe me, they tried. But I do have this."
Dr. Binet rose from the chair and entered a room in the back. Nick heard some rummaging around and then he heard Dr. Binet straining a bit as he lifted something heavy. He walked out of the closet holding a large holotape recorder and set it heavily on the table. A light sheen of dust covered the old wooden container; the thing looked practically antique.
When the scientist removed the lid, Nick saw that a series of twenty-five holotapes sat organized into neat rows next to the large fuzzy microphone. Each holotape was labeled with the date starting from 2177 to 2186.
"DiMA was required to record his thoughts as a way to detail how a human consciousness can form organically. I can't guarantee that you'll find anything interesting in here, but perhaps this will give you some closure." Dr. Binet said.
"I can listen to all of these?" Nick asked skeptically.
Dr. Binet nodded. "Yes. I've listened to them all. There's nothing on these tapes that would be considered confidential information by now. I'll warn you that the first couple tapes are incomprehensible. DiMA was brand new at the time and his personality matrix was struggling to normalize. He comes off as rather unbalanced. But if you listen to the later tapes, you'll find that he was quite an intellect." The man sighed wistfully. "It's a shame he escaped."
"Dr. Binet. You are needed in the Directorate meeting room." Nora's voice called out over the PA.
"Excuse me." He said and offered Nick his hand. "It's been a pleasure meeting you Nick."
Nick looked at Dr. Binet's hand for a brief moment and then shook it with his own. His skeletal hand looked alien against the scientist's and he fought against the urge to pull his hand away in shame.
When the man released his hand, Nick stuffed it into his trench coat, but before Dr. Binet walked out the door Nick interjected, "D'you mind if I smoke in here?"
"Elder Maxson." A Paladin said breathlessly. "I have urgent news to report. Our scribes found something very interesting in the rubble of University Point."
Maxson turned to face the Paladin in question. The man's bleach blond hair was cut close to his scalp. He sported a fat lip and several cuts on his face were still beginning to heal. This Paladin was new, he realized. He had just been recently promoted but Maxson couldn't remember the exact details.
"Paladin..." His voice trailed off expectantly.
"Paladin Ross, sir. Formally Knight Ross. I served directly under Lancer-Captain Kellis for several years before receiving my promotion." He said.
Maxson nodded. Yes, he remembered now. Paladin Ross was one of the few Knights promoted on the spot for their victory over at Fort Strong. "Well Paladin Ross, what is the news?"
The man held out a blue metal lunch pail to both Elder Maxson and Paladin Danse and opened the lid. Inside the box, was a disk the size of a tea saucer sitting on top of old fabric torn from a Brotherhood uniform. The disk was iridescent and metallic. Rainbow hues reflected off the polished surface with each slight tilt of the Paladin's arms.
"Where did you find this?" Elder Maxson asked.
"One of our Field Scribes found a hidden note in the wreckage written by a woman named Jacq. She hid the research notes at the last minute by anchoring it in a waterproof box off the pier. I think she hoped the Institute would spare her if they searched the place and couldn't find the research."
Paladin Danse shook his head in disgust, "And now she paid for that mistake with her life."
Elder Maxson held the disk in his hands. While it wasn't as good as the beryllium agitator, having this research was an appropriate alternative to get Liberty Prime back up and running.
"Bring this to Proctor Igrahm. She'll know what to do with it." Elder Maxson ordered.
"Yes sir!" The Paladin saluted. "Ad Victoriam!"
"Follow me Danse." Elder Maxson ordered.
Danse followed the Elder out of the upper deck and down the stairs to Proctor Quinlan's office. The man had his back turned to them. He was intently reading a message on his terminal; his thin lips mouthed out the words as he read the message to himself. Elder Maxson cleared his throat.
"Oh!" Proctor Quinlan jumped. "Sorry Elder ... uh Paladin Danse. I didn't hear you come in."
"Are we interrupting?"
"No, I'm just reading through some messages that my scribes intercepted from an unsecured terminal in the Institute. The rest of their network is heavily encrypted and it would take our Scribes years to crack it, but one terminal is off their mainframe - at least partially that is."
Elder Maxson's stoic face twitched to reveal a rare smile. "Can we access the terminal?"
Proctor Quinlan thought for a moment. "Yes, I suppose we could. Not for long, mind you, unless you fancy docking the Prydwen right over the CIT Ruins itself. But I could broadcast a short message and transmit it through the unsecured network, like a virus of sorts."
"Good." Elder Maxson replied. "Then do it."
"What sort of message should I be broadcasting?" Proctor Quinlan asked.
Now Maxson's smile broadened into a dark, vengeful grin.
"We need Madison Li to be brought back into the fold." He replied.
Proctor Quinlan scoffed, "And how am I going to do that? The woman would rather die than work with us again."
"Not if we use the small amount of leverage we have on her." He replied.
"And what sort of leverage is that?" Proctor Quinlan asked.
"We have her old lover aboard." Elder Maxson smirked.
Below deck in Senior Scribe Neriah's laboratory, a white-haired man was strapped to a gurney with leather manacles. A cloth gag cut the corners of his mouth dying the white fabric a slight pink.
"Now now. This wont hurt too much if you don't struggle." Scribe Neriah said as she injected a long needle into his forearm. Sickly green and yellow veins bulged through his pale skin. The smell of fear emanated from his sweat. As the needle entered his arm, Neriah pulled the plunger and withdrew blood that was rusty brown.
She shushed his whimpering and tenderly brushed the dirty unkempt hair from his forehead.
"You're doing so well James." The X-111 compound is working. "Your blood is looking a lot more healthy."
Small red needle marks littered his left forearm and Neriah wiped at the tiny drop of blood that leaked from the wound with an antiseptic pad.
A Brotherhood scribe pushed James's gurney out of the sterile operating tent that was erected in the back of the science deck and pushed him into a large cage that Neriah usually reserved for her mole rat experiment.
The mole rat experiment had been a success. Thanks to them, she was able to synthesize more powerful radiation drugs that would eventually replace Rad-X and Rad Away in the field. Now all she needed was to test its effect on a human.
She looked over at James's weak, shivering form. Before she had been promoted to Senior Scribe, Neriah was one of the chief Scribes who looked into Project Purity to see whether they could even salvage the water purifier. When a Brotherhood team stormed the Jefferson Memorial, they all expected to see James's body ravaged by radiation, but when they fought through the Enclave's forces for a second time, they didn't find James's body
James had survived, and after ten long years, the Brotherhood had finally found him.