Chapter 20: Airship Down
Nora stepped out of the shower, dried herself, and pulled on a clean Institute tunic. She walked out into her living quarters without bothering to slip on shoes. The metal alarm clock on the end table said that it was nearly eight in the evening. Nora had worked non-stop for the past three hours checking in on various battle preparations.
First she met with Dr. Filmore and inspected the additional barracks that they built in the old tunnels on sublevel 21-D. The area looked just like any other barrack. The walls were made out of detachable polyurethane paneling which made assembling the structures quick and easy. The sublevel was split into three barracks: one to the west, one to the south, and one to the east. A small hallway led north towards a metal ladder, and that's when Nora realized that she had been here before. These old tunnels were where Father kept her after she killed Ayo. Thanks to Liam's guidance, Nora used that ladder to climb to the surface along with several other runaway synths.
"Mother, do you know where that ladder comes out?" Dr. Filmore asked.
"The climb is a long one, but it exits down near The Charles River about three blocks west of the CIT. If the Brotherhood attacks the CIT ruins, we'd need to create a diversion to distract them. I'd hate for fleeing refugees to get caught up in the crossfire." Nora said.
After hashing out the escape plans with Dr. Filmore, Nora managed to track down Dr. Volkhert and his son Brenden. Both men agreed to run triage in the infirmary should they need it. Dr. Volkhert looked annoyed (as though the upcoming battle was an irritating inconvenience), but Brenden looked primed for a fight. He couldn't have been older than Liam, but he was ready to jump into the battle nonetheless.
Then Nora met with the division heads of each department and explained the plan in case the Brotherhood breached the Institute. They all knew that the Brotherhood would use an EMP field to interfere with their relay, so teleporting out was out of the question. The workers in the SRB were in the best position as they had access to the hallways that led to the barracks, and consequently, the escape hatch.
"Under no circumstance are you expected to stay and fight." Nora told the workers in the SRB, including Dr. Secord. "If you manage to escape topside, there will be a list of safe houses that you can go to until the fighting dies down. They're nothing more than old apartments, and the type of living is far harder than what you're used to, so make sure you prepare yourself tonight."
Dr. Secord set her face into a determined scowl, "And what if we want to fight?"
Nora blinked in surprise, "Uh — you are not expected to —"
"— I know what you said." She snapped. "I was born here. I will die here. Is that okay with you, Director?"
"Suit yourself." Nora replied.
Her tone came off cold but in her heart Nora was grateful for Dr. Secord's fierce loyalty to the Institute. The woman didn't give a rat's ass about Nora, but her loyalty to the larger cause was admirable. In a small way, Nora respected Dr. Secord's principles even if she didn't agree with them.
Nora stepped out onto her balcony. The last thing that she had to do was happening now. The entire Institute stood below her in the Atrium. Her son's headstone glinted in the blue-tinted fluorescent lights. She took in a breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly.
"Scientists and synths alike. You all stand before me now united as one group, one people, against a common enemy. The Brotherhood considers us all abominations. We are examples of what happens when our ancestors act like the boundaries between morality and science don't exist. I am here today because of that very reason."
Nora's throat tightened a little and she cleared her throat. A chill swept over her skin as her mind wandered back to the very moment that changed her life.
"On October 23rd, 2077 my life was relatively normal. My husband, my son, and Codsworth, our Mister Handy, went through our morning routine as we did every day. When we first heard reports of the nuclear strike, Nate sprung into action as he had been trained to do. But our salvation — the vaults — were just another example of science gone wrong."
"When Conrad Kellogg came into the vault, he stole my son from my arms and murdered my husband in front of me. I started my new life in the wasteland with absolutely nothing. The only thing that didn't stop me from putting a bullet in my brain was the thought that I'd see my son again. That I'd find this place called The Institute and I'd get to see my little boy …"
Nora bit her lip. Her hands trembled and her vision blurred.
"Seeing my son again, not as a child but as an old man, was the hardest thing that I've had to experience. I look around at this paradise below the ground and I'm in awe at the life my son managed to create here. Many of you knew Father well. Some of you might've considered him a friend, a colleague, or a mentor. My truth is that I never knew my son and I never will, and in my heart, I think I do blame you all for that. It's wrong — the blame goes to the person who sent Kellogg out to Vault 111 — but it's the truth. It's how I feel."
"Nevertheless, I've gotten to know many of you during my time here. I see the value in the work you all do. I admire many of your accomplishments both academically and professionally. I studied to be a lawyer, and maybe that's why I'm so long-winded now, but I'm the first to admit that I'm not an academic. You all have skills and knowledge that can benefit the Commonwealth, and I think it's wrong to keep that knowledge to yourselves."
"I'm not going to lie to you. The Brotherhood soldiers outnumber us three to one. The likelihood of us winning is slim. I've done what I could with the connections that I have topside, but only time will tell if they've had an effect. Our intel says that the Brotherhood will march on us by dawn. This is your last chance to leave. There are safe houses set up and ready to take in refugees. If you stay here, I cannot guarantee your safety. No matter what you do, just know that the Commonwealth needs you: synth and scientist alike. Prove to the wasteland that they were wrong about the Commonwealth Boogeyman. Prove to those who lost family and friends that the boogeyman is dead."
Nora stopped speaking and watched the crowd's reaction. A sea of faces looked up at her. Some people were crying and clutching their loved ones, others — mostly the scientists — had faces of stoic neutrality, but the face that struck her the most was the child synth named Shaun. Her son's clone stood next to Dr. Binet. His eyes held a torrent of hope, fear, anger, and confusion. He was just a little boy — and thanks to Father — he'd always be a little boy. She could forgive Father for many things, but Shaun's existence was something that burned her to her core.
"That was some speech, doll." Nick said softly.
Nora's heart skipped at the sound of his voice.
"Nick! Wait — were you there the entire time?"
"Yeah … sorry. I didn't want to make you nervous." he said.
"Where were you?" Nora asked. "I got back three hours ago and I went looking for you. Dr. Binet said that you were recuperating. What were you doing?"
"I figured that I should prepare myself if we got a fight ahead of us." he said.
"Prepare yourself how?"
"I was …" He frowned and then he removed his hands from his pockets. Both of his hands looked nearly identical.
"Your hand — you repaired it?" Nora asked.
"Yeah. Among other things." Nick gestured at his neck.
The holes in his neck were patched up with a lighter color of polymer then the rest of his weatherbeaten skin.
"I figured that I should be in prime form before going into battle." he said. "And I know you said that I shouldn't go and change things about myself, but —"
"Nick," Nora interrupted. "If you're happy then I'm happy. I was just worried about you, that's all."
Nick came towards her, lit two cigarettes, and handed her one. "There's nothing to worry about, doll. I'm fine."
Nora took the cigarette in one hand and Nick's repaired hand in her other. She gently squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.
Together they smoked and stood overlooking the Atrium. Neither of them spoke. Both of them had too much on their minds to speak. Nora set her cigarette in a ceramic ashtray that was balancing on the ledge. She stared at the smoldering embers as she thought back to their first true battle, the battle against the courser at the Greentech Genetics building, the battle that had changed her life. She felt the same hollowness in her stomach, the same fluttering nerves and rushing adrenaline, and the same fear that something would happen to Nick or to her.
Nick silently intertwined his fingers with hers. His face held the same intense deliberative expression that he had at the Directorate meeting the morning before. Nick was trying to figure out a way for them both to get out of this alive. Nora wasn't a military strategist, but Nick had a little expertise in tactical planning. His mind held memories of gang shootouts and stakeouts, of gunfights, chases down dark alleyways, and hostage negotiations. Of course, Nick wasn't Nate. He wasn't a soldier, but that didn't mean he couldn't plan like one.
When Nora finally spoke her voice was soft and husky. "Nick if something happens to me, I —"
He shook his head, "Nothing's gonna happen to you, doll."
"But if it does I just want you to be there for Hancock. You've known him far longer than I have, so I don't need to explain just how much he'll need the sup —"
Nick kissed Nora with a ferocious passion that stole the breath from her lungs. She clung to him and rode the kiss out until her head spun. She was panting when he pulled away and she heard the huskiness and the slight static in his voice as he replied, "Nothing's gonna happen to you. I promise."
The synth's eyes blazed with a certainty and passion that Nora had never seen before. She almost believed him. His confidence in her made her feel strong. They might actually win this after all.
"I love you." she murmured and she rested her head in the crook of his neck.
Nick rested his chin on her head. "And I will never stop loving you Nora. From the moment you stepped into Skinny's vault, you changed my world. No matter what happens tomorrow, you got so many people looking out for you. Shaun would be proud of you."
"I highly doubt that." Nora replied. "Father would've hated every single decision that I've made so far."
"I ain't talking about Father. I'm talking about your baby boy. I'm talking about the child you gave life to. The one whose diapers you changed, whose cries you soothed, and the one who pushed you to walk across the entire Commonwealth to track him down. That kid — the kid you had and loved before Kellogg took him from you — that kid would've been so proud of you."
Nora's chest stuttered and she pressed her tear soaked face into Nick's starched shirt.
"Thank you." she murmured.
They held each other on the balcony until the fluorescent lights dimmed to the bedtime protocols. The scientists and synths scurried below them like ants. Each one was set to his or her own task. The scientists were getting ready for bed while the night shift crew of Gen-2 synths were preparing to start their cleaning and laundry routines. Most of the Directorate were in their respective laboratories finalizing last minute plans and details. They'd probably even sleep there, if they could even sleep at all, as the entire Institute prepared for the oncoming storm.
"I should get you to bed." Nick murmured.
"Don't bother. I won't be able to sleep." Nora replied. "I can barely get my stomach to untie itself from the knot it's in."
"Nervous?"
"Terrified." Nora clarified. "I'm completely fucking terrified Nick."
"Me too." he agreed. "But I've come to learn that fear is a normal, human reaction. It's okay to be afraid of dying."
"I know that." Nora replied. "But I'm not afraid of dying. At least not in the way you're talking about. I'm more afraid of the loss. I've lost so much. I don't think I can bear losing you or Hancock. Not after losing Nate … twice."
This time Nick didn't try to placate Nora's fears. Death was a real possibility. After all, they were about to go to war. So instead he picked Nora up and carried her back into her quarters.
"Nick, what are you —"
"We got one last night together before everything changes." Nick said. "You can't sleep and I physically can't sleep. We got eight hours before you gotta call the troops together and I want to make that time last."
Nora injected a little heat into her voice. "And what did you have in mind Mister Valentine?"
Nick smirked and he put Nora down just as the automatic doors closed behind them. The room looked different. The overhead lights were dim, although not completely dark, and the room was awash in candlelight. The mattress had been removed from the bed frame and put on the floor. A clean white sheet and a coarse but warm pale yellow blanket laid across the mattress. Someone had removed the cushions from the nearby couch and put them at the head of the makeshift bed along with two more pillows. An assortment of food — real food, not the Institute's manufactured foodstuff — sat on a stainless steel tray. A bowl of soup that looked suspiciously similar to Daisy's delicious stew sat alongside another bowl of Takahashi's noodles
"You did this for me?" Nora whispered.
Nick smirked, "That was part of why I wanted to stay back. I'm sorry that I was acting cagey earlier, but I needed some time to get things ready without you knowing."
He took Nora's hand and led her to the mattress. They sat down together like they were sitting down for a picnic. Nick lifted the cloche to reveal a tray of warm Salisbury steak and amber-colored alcohol in a crystal decanter with matching crystalline tumblers sitting to the side.
"How did you manage all of this? The Institute doesn't have trade lines established with Goodneighbor."
"No…they do." Nick replied. "At least unofficially. There's a trader who frequently stops by Goodneighbor. I think the folks there call her Trashcan Carla, but she's kinda a secret agent for The Institute. Dr. Binet helped me contact her while you were topside. The dame sells way more than trash by the way. If I were you, I'd see if she could start rotating through the settlements."
Nora stared open-mouthed at the synth. "Wh-but — How? Nick I'm the Director! How did I not know about this?"
Nick smiled. In fact, he looked extremely pleased with himself. "Doll, don't take this the wrong way, but you've not been the Director for very long, and you've spent all of your time making preparations for a war. You can't expect to know every small incidental detail about things."
"I suppose." she sighed.
As the night wore on, they drifted closer to each other and once the bourbon was gone, Nick and Nora found themselves entwined in each other kissing languidly as though they could stretch this moment out forever.
Nora plucked the hat from Nick's head and tossed it off to the side. She ran her fingers along his bare scalp feeling the seams in the paneling and the warmth of his polymer skin. Her thumbs ran across the bridge of his brow feeling the bone structure and the smooth skin where eyebrows should've been. Her touches ghosted to the sides as light as a butterfly's wings as she ran her fingertips over the repaired skin near his ears and neck. Nick's breathing deepened and he pulled his lips from hers.
"Sorry, is it too sensitive there?" she asked.
"No. It feels good. Real good. But I ain't sure why you're so focused on the uglier bits. There are other parts of me that aren't as damaged that you're welcome to touch."
"These parts are not ugly. Sure, they're discolored but they're a part of you just like any other scar or birthmark. As long as I'm not hurting you, I'd like to go on touching you in these places if that's okay."
Nick closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. "You sure know how to make an ol' synth feel special."
"Good." Nora replied with a smug smile. "Now hush Valentine, and let me investigate."
Nora's hands squeezed his shoulders once before she pulled him back in for another kiss. She slipped her hands beneath his suspenders and slid them off his shoulders. Nick's fingers undid his tie while Nora worked on the buttons of his starched dress shirt. His skin felt hot to the touch. Nick usually ran hotter than most humans — the various servos and complex programing that operated his body also displaced a lot of heat — but he still seemed warmer than usual.
"Are you feeling okay?" Nora asked. "You're running pretty hot right now."
To his credit, Nick didn't rise to the bait and make a wry quip about her word choice. Instead, he took her hands in his and gently guided them below his belt. Nora's mouth fell open in shock as her palm caressed a new addition to Nick's anatomy.
"What…?" she breathed.
Nick swooped her hands away and brought them to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "I — uh — I'm sorry, doll. I know you said that I shouldn't go and change something about myself just to please you, but that's not the only reason why I did it … I —"
"Nick Valentine, you have every right to change your body in whatever way you want." Nora interjected. "I just can't believe that you actually asked Dr. Binet about this. I'm astonished and proud and happy for you and I'm curious but I mostly just want to know how you feel. Do —" Nora blushed at how inane her question sounded, "Do you like it?"
Nick let out a bark-like laugh. "Like it? Doll, I don't even know how to use it! I don't take bathroom breaks and as soon as Dr. Binet gave me the okay to return to your quarters, I kept myself busy getting stuff ready for you to come back. I — shit — I don't even know if this thing works."
Nora's eyes glinted and she bit her lower lip. She rose up onto her knees and moved forward so she was straddling Nick's thighs. She gently lowered her weight in his lap and purred appreciatively at having something pressing up against her.
"Can you feel that?" she asked.
"Yeah." Nick's voice had gone hoarse. "You're so damn warm, doll."
Nora rolled her hips and Nick's eyes flickered a little as though his body was experiencing a mild power surge. He leaned back onto his forearms and unfolded his legs so they splayed out beneath them. Nora leaned against him and kissed a trail down his sternum. Nick felt coolant rush through his body until a strong heat pooled in his pelvis. The pleasure felt so different than what he was used to. Everything felt stronger; Nora's ministrations: her lips, her caresses, and her gentle rocking felt five times stronger than it had ever felt before. If sex was meant to feel like this, then Nick lamented the time he wasted accepting anything less.
Something had flipped inside Nora as well. Seeing Nick so unabashedly lost in his own pleasure only heightened her own arousal. She wanted to make him see stars. If tonight was their last night together, then Nora wanted to send Nick off with a memory that he'd never forget. So she tore at his belt buckle, unbuttoned his pants with such ferocity that the metal clasps bounced across the linoleum floor, and stroked Nick's erect cock for the first time.
"Fffff—" Nick's eyes were screwed shut and his head lolled back. "Nora — God…"
Apparently Nick's new addition worked perfectly. His penis was the blue-grey color of his polymer skin, but it held a certain firmness that was reminiscent of a dildo, except that it wasn't; Nick's new manhood looked — for all intents and purposes — completely and utterly normal.
He felt her tongue lick a long strip up his shaft and then she took him into her mouth. The sensations … the sounds … Nick dug his fingers into the mattress and lost himself in the pleasure.
"How does this feel? Do you like this?" Nora's questions were breathy and her voice was huskier than usual.
Nick grunted in affirmative and moved his head into some semblance of a nod. He tried to talk but his short response was garbled by static.
"L — love you."
Those were the only words that Nora could make out amid the static.
Nora's dark hair fell into her face. It was still a bit too short to pull back into a ponytail so Nick gently gathered up her hair and held it back for her. She smiled at that and Nick whimpered at the mental image. He felt tension gather behind his naval. It was the same feeling he experienced when he first climaxed with Nora at the Red Rocket gas station, but now his mounting energy had a place to go.
"Doll … don't — I'm not — Fuck, don't stop."
A gleeful but muffled chuckle met his ears as Nora's warm hand stroked along his base while her lips and tongue performed magic around the tip.
Would he ejaculate? Did his testicles serve a purpose or did Dr. Binet add them to help with the cosmetic look — to make him look as human as possible? If he did produce ejaculate, was it safe for Nora to —
"Don't swallow it." he croaked.
Nora's eyes crinkled in amusement as she pulled herself off his member with deliciously obscene sounds accompanying a smoky chuckle.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I don't know what'll happen when I — and I don't want to — and God … I'm gonna — Fuck…"
She stroked him from base to tip in rhythmic and firm strokes. He wailed — it was a sound that he had never heard before — and he shoved his knuckles against his mouth to stifle some of the noise. His newly repaired hand clawed at the blanket beneath him while his eyes pulsed as though his entire body was experiencing a power surge.
"Let go Nick. I've got you." Nora murmured.
Her voice sounded far away and he reached out for her. Her fingers laced into his polymer ones and that gentle touch was just enough to set him over the edge. Something warm splashed across his chest and abdomen in small strips as the head of his cock pulsed in time with his climax. He was vaguely aware of how his pleasured cries seemed to reverberate off the walls. Someone must've heard him. Normally he'd be mortified, but he felt too damn good to care about proprietary right now.
"You alright?"
Nick tried to focus on Nora but the entire room was in greyscale and the world sounded warped or slowed down.
"Nick talk to me." she said. "Are you okay?
He shook his head. "I'm fine. I — That was just … damn. You are amazing."
Nora kissed him and she nuzzled against his chest. She was still mostly clothed and she draped her thigh across Nick's stomach.
"I'm so glad I got to finally do that." she whispered. "I've been wanting to do that to you since that first night in your office."
"R-really? Like the first night you and I talked or the first time we were intimate."
Nora's smile widened into a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. "Let's just say that after three glasses of that scotch you and I were drinking, I was starting to fantasize all sorts of inappropriate things about you and the things I could do beneath your desk."
Nick exhaled the breath he was holding. He rolled into her and kissed her softly. His hands, both hands, combed through her hair before cupping her cheeks between his palms. Nora felt his hands tremble as he held her. His kiss became more needy and she could taste the melancholy beneath the passion.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Nora turned on the radio before tangling herself back into Nick's embrace. The sounds of Ella Fitzgerald and The Ink Spots drowned out their cries of passion
Nora managed to catch a couple hours of sleep once the physical and emotional exhaustion of the recent events finally hit her. While she slept, Nick held her against him as Billie Holliday's "Crazy He Calls Me" came to a close.
I say I'll care forever
And I mean forever
If I have to hold up the sky.
Crazy, he calls me
Sure I'm crazy
Crazy in love am I.
Nick kissed Nora's forehead. His synth body couldn't physically cry so the torment and guilt that he felt had no place to go. He clenched his teeth as a small whimper escaped from his lips. Nora stirred a little but she didn't wake. In her sleep, her hands reached out and grabbed his. Her fingers interlaced with his and a content smile crept across her face.
"I love you." Nick murmured.
He closed his eyes and listened to Nora's steady heartbeat. It was the only sound that brought him comfort now. He focused on that sound and reminded himself that everything he had done, everything that he had prepared with Dr. Binet was for Nora just as much as it was for him. She had lost so much in her life, and Nick was damn certain that she wasn't going to lose him.
Danse advanced towards the Logan International Airport weaponless. His Brotherhood jumpsuit was filthy and he ached all over. Scribe Haylen walked by his side. Her keen eyes scanned the area for any signs of hostile life. Little did they know that all living creatures that were within three miles of the airport had fled to calmer areas after the Minutemen's artillery shell destroyed the airport hanger.
"What the hell happened here?" Danse whispered as they walked towards the wooden barricades.
Smoke rose from the debris which obscured the setting sun. Liberty Prime stood in its frame ready and waiting, but the airport itself was completely destroyed.
"There's nobody stationed at the entrance." Haylen noted.
Danse frowned, "Maxson wouldn't leave the place undefended. There's got to be a sentry or a —"
Elder Maxson stepped out of the smog and his eyes were full of wild contempt. He wore his leather bomber jacket and leveled his laser pistol at Danse's head.
"Danse! "How dare you betray the Brotherhood!"
"He didn't betray the Brotherhood! Please don't —"
"Haylen, shut up!" Maxson snarled. "I will deal with you in a moment."
"Please, sir. You are wrong about him. If you'd —"
Maxson took a menacing step towards Haylen and pointed a gloved finger at Danse.
"Him? Haylen, that is not a 'him.' Danse is not human. It is an automaton created to wipe us all out. Surely you see that! It wasn't born from the womb of a loving mother. It was created in the cold, sterile environment of a laboratory. By attempting to play God, the Institute has taken the sanctity of human life and has corrupted it."
Danse's heart pounded wildly in his chest. No matter what he felt about himself, he knew deep down that what Maxson was saying was wrong. "How can you say that Maxson? After all that I've done for the Brotherhood — all the blood I've spilled in our name, how can you say that about me? I served the Brotherhood faithfully for ten years Arthur!"
Maxson rounded on Danse. "You are the physical embodiment of what we hate the most: technology that's gone too far. You are a single bomb in an arsenal of thousands preparing to lay waste to what's left of mankind. Don't you see? Look around you Danse! Look at the scorched earth and the bones that litter this wasteland. This place is on its way to becoming just as desolate and just as irredeemable as the Capital Wasteland. And I blame The Institute for that. I blame you for that."
"Danse wants to save mankind, not destroy it!" Haylen exclaimed.
"You are as delusional as you are insubordinate Haylen." Maxson snarled. "How can you trust a machine? A machine that had its mind erased, its thoughts programmed, and its very soul manufactured? Those ethics that it claims to champion aren't even its own. They were artificially inserted in an attempt to have it blend into society."
Anguish and pain burned through Danse's chest. He understood where Elder Maxson was coming from, but he also couldn't fathom that he'd bring about mankind's destruction. Him. Paladin Danse. The man who had served The Brotherhood for nearly fifteen years. Even if those thoughts of loyalty were programmed into him, he was still loyal to the Brotherhood not The Institute. He'd always be loyal to the Brotherhood.
Danse sighed, "It's true. I was built in the confines of a laboratory, and some of my memories aren't my own. But when I saw my brothers dying at my feet, I felt sorrow. When I defeated an enemy of the Brotherhood, I felt pride. And when I heard your speech about saving the Commonwealth, I felt hope. Don't you understand Arthur? I thought I was human! I've always thought that. When I learned the truth about myself, I — I couldn't believe it. But synth or not, I am still a Brotherhood soldier. I will always be a Brotherhood soldier."
Elder Maxson bared his teeth in a feral snarl. He was about to respond but Danse stepped forward and the collective audience that gathered to watch the spectacle drew their weapons as soon as Danse moved.
He held out his hands to show that he was unarmed, but he never took his eyes off Maxson.
"Elder Maxson. As a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, I'm invoking the codex and I'm issuing a formal challenge for your authority as Elder."
"You dare —"
Danse didn't let him finish. "Per the litany and the rules passed down by the founder Roger Maxson, your ancestor, we will settle this matter through trial by combat. Both participants are allowed a weapon but no armor — "
"I know what the fucking litany says!" Maxson yelled.
His eyes blazed and the small muscles in his jaw bulged as he ground his teeth. There was nothing that he could do to stop a trial by combat once one has been invoked. The Brotherhood of Steel codex was written over two hundred years ago and it was expected that all Brotherhood Elders hold to the letter of the law."
"You will regret this." he spat.
Maxson advanced on Danse and drew his laser pistol. All of Danse's battle instincts and his military training surged to the forefront of his mind as he dove behind the wooden barricade as a red bolt flew past his left shoulder.
He heard a shrill whistle from above as Proctor Teegan tossed him his laser rifle. Danse caught the weapon and smashed the butt of the gun into Maxon's face as soon as he rounded the corner. There was a crunch as cartilage broke and blood splattered across Maxson's face. Danse followed through the strike and used the laser rifle to push Maxson back into the Brotherhood compound. The Elder stumbled backward but didn't fall. The crowd watching the battle was silent. The only sounds were the idle whooshing from Liberty Prime's cooling fans and the bestial snarls as the men fought.
Maxson fired another round at Danse, and this time the bolt grazed his cheek. His skin blistered and his vision whited out for a split second which gave the younger man the chance to tackle Danse to the ground. Maxson choked Danse with both hands. He felt the blood pounding in his head in time with his frantic heartbeat. Danse's vision was fading. Then Maxson removed one hand so he could reach back into his boot to grab his knife. It was now or never. Danse knew how deadly Maxson was with a knife. If he didn't react now, he knew that the blade was going straight into his brain.
The ground was still damp and muddy from the early morning rain, so Danse jerked to the side, kicked his leg up, and hooked his leg across Maxson's neck to pull him down into a wrestling pin. He gasped for air as soon as Maxson's hand slid off his throat and then he rolled forward and followed through with the movement to put Maxson into an arm bar. He had control of the younger man's knife hand and all it took was a slight upward thrust from Danse's hips to hyperextend Maxson's elbow.
To Maxson's credit, he didn't scream. Instead, he reached back towards his boot with his left hand, grabbed the knife, and thrusted it towards Danse's stomach. The synth screamed and released Maxson's arm. Hot blood flowed from the wound. The blow wasn't fatal but it still hurt. The pain stole the breath from his lungs which gave Maxson the upper hand to strike at Danse once again.
"Look out!" Haylen screamed.
The synth blocked Maxson's strike with his forearms. The blade sliced deep and Danse screamed again. His screams seemed to bolster Maxson's resolve because the younger man came at Danse with the exact same attack and cut his forearms yet again. On the third strike, Danse caught Maxson's wrist, twisted it, and something popped. Maxson's knife landed in the mud with a soft plop.
"YOU…" Maxson snarled.
He aimed his pistol at Danse's head, but as he was shooting left-handed, the shot went wide by a couple of inches. Irate rage contorted Maxson's features into a poor parody of a human being. This man wasn't the same man whom Danse served side-by-side with during the battle with the Enclave. This man wasn't the same one who listened to Danse as he mourned over the loss of his friend Cutler. The man who Danse pledged to follow, the Elder who bravely led them all out of hell and towards a vague hope of a better future was now gone. Bigotry and hatred had killed that man. In his place stood a monster.
"Stand down Maxson." Danse panted. "Surrender and I'll give you your life. You don't have to die."
Maxson panted. His right arm trembled in pain, but his eyes never wavering from the knife sitting in the mud.
"You're right." he said softly. "I do not have to die. But you do."
Maxson lunged for the knife at the same time that Danse did. They looked like two rival wolves locked in a stalemate. At one point, Maxson had the knife but Danse knocked it out of his hand once again. Neither one knew where it went.
At some point, Maxson managed to get Danse in a rear-naked choke and that's when he saw the silver glint among the mud and sleet. He leaned forward. His hand trembled as he tried to grab the knife. His vision was starting to blur and his tongue felt swollen. His mind was floating inside of his skull as his hands sifted through the cold mud. He pawed the ground like a frantic animal and then his hands closed around the blade.
"Die…you abomination." Maxson snarled in Danse's ear.
His blood ran cold. His heartbeat thudded in his throat where Maxson's bicep was crushing the air from his windpipe. Danse was starting to feel the tingling sensation of unconsciousness and he had one chance to do this.
He summoned up his last bits of strength and pushed his entire body back against Maxson's. His head collided with the younger man's broken nose which gave him just enough room to slip through Maxson's arms. With the knife in his right hand, Danse aimed the knife upward in the same strike that he tried on the ghoul mayor.
This time the knife struck true. Maxson wheezed and looked down in shock and fear as he realized that the hilt of his knife was sticking out below his left breast. Blood blossomed from the wound and dripped down his shirt in thin rivulets. Maxson took hold of the knife and looked at Danse. His eyes weren't colored with bigotry or hatred, just plain confusion and regret.
"Arthur, don't —"
But Maxson removed the knife and dropped the weapon to the ground. Blood surged out from the wound like a broken dam. Maxson coughed once and blood colored his lips and dripped down his beard. The light faded from his eyes as he fell into Danse, glancing off the man, and landing on his side in the mud. Maxson's blood pulsed out from the wound with each heartbeat staining his leather bomber jacket. After five or so pulses, a soft gurgle escaped from Maxson's throat and then he was still.
Nobody said a word. There were no cheers or whoops. There weren't any shouts in outrage either. The entire Brotherhood stood silent as stone and watched as their leader, their supposed savior, the man who united the Brotherhood under one banner, drew his last breath.
Danse crawled over to Maxson's body. He rolled the man onto his back and wiped the mud off his face. The younger man's eyes stared unblinking up at the starry sky. He looked so young just then.
"Ad victoriam." Danse choked out.
He ran his palm over Maxson's face and gently closed his eyes. He heard heavy hydraulic footsteps behind him, and when Danse turned around, he saw Proctor Ingram staring at Maxson's body. Her eyes were tear-streaked and she had a hulking mini gun pointed right at Danse's head.
"You traitor!" she snarled.
But before Proctor Ingram could start up the mini gun, Lancer Captain Kellis stepped in between them.
"Stand down Ingram. The litany is clear. Danse has defeated Arthur Maxson in trial by combat. He is your new Elder now, and he —"
"He's a synth, Captain!" she hissed. "Are you seriously going to let that thing dictate what happens to the Brotherhood?"
Captain Kellis held Ingram's gaze and his expression did not waver. "If I have to order you to stand down once more, you will be charged with insubordination and court martialed. I still outrank you Ingram."
She shook her head and then she stepped back away from Maxson's body. The looks that she gave to Danse were full of pure hatred.
"Elder…" Captain Kellis said to Danse, "we await your orders."
Haylen ran to Danse's side and helped him stand up. The bleeding had stopped but the wound pulsed with hot pain and the mud and rain didn't help it any.
"I'm fine Haylen." Danse said.
He winced and his breath hitched but he waved Haylen away nonetheless.
Danse drew himself up and addressed the gathered crowd. The cold ocean air chilled him and he struggled to keep himself from stuttering.
"I want to make one thing clear to everyone. My body might be synth, but this heart and mind belong to the Brotherhood. T-the Institute is still a tremendous threat to the Commonwealth. T-they —" Danse winced and clenched his fist to keep himself from crying out in pain. "They have technologies that need to be confiscated or destroyed. And even if I have to pull the trigger on my own kind, I'm willing to make that sacrifice. The Litany is clear. You have a new Elder. Now the only question is whether the rest of you will fall in line."
"I will, sir." Lancer Captain Kellis said.
"And I." Proctor Teegan said with a grin.
"And I." Haylen beamed.
Over half of the assembled Brotherhood soldiers came forward to pledge their loyalty, but another half — including Proctor Ingram and Proctor Quinlan — did not.
Captain Kellis stepped towards Proctor Ingram. "If you do not pledge your support for your Elder then you are in violation of Article II of the Codex. The consequence for such an infraction is banishment. What say you?"
Ingram's eyes blazed with the same intense fury that Danse saw in Maxson. Her mouth was set in a firm snarl and then she pressed a button that was attached to her Power Armor suit. Steam and heat whooshed out from Liberty Prime's vents and the automaton's eyes glowed cerulean.
"INITIATING STARTUP PROTOCOLS. ASSESSING TARGET PARAMETERS. ANALYZING LEVELS OF COMMUNIST ACTIVITY. LEVELS OF COMMUNIST INFILTRATION DEEMED CRITICAL."
Liberty Prime walked out into the airport courtyard, but instead of turning towards the Institute, the robot turned towards the sea and looked at the Prydwen.
All of the color drained from Proctor Ingram's face. She stared open-mouthed at the robot, realized what was about to happen, and frantically started pressing buttons to turn the machine off.
"UPDATED TACTICAL ASSESSMENT. RED CHINESE PRESENCE DETECTED. AERIAL INCURSION OF COMMUNIST FORCES CANNOT SUCCEED. INITIATING DIRECTIVE 7395: DESTROY ALL COMMUNISTS!"
Danse realized what was about to happen as well.
"RUN!" he yelled. "Evacuate the airport NOW!"
Everyone ran towards the gates as Liberty Prime's cerulean eye turned red. The automaton looked towards the Prydwen and started charging up its laser beam. The red beam burst from the robot's eye and struck the Prydwen in its hull, carving through solid steel like it was tissue paper.
Proctor Ingram ran to Maxson's body and gathered him up in her arms. He looked so small and fragile in comparison to her augmented frame. He looked just as fragile when she pulled him from the collapsing satellite station. By all rights, they shouldn't have survived that mission, but somehow they did. They survived that mission and many others afterwards, but Proctor Ingram knew that her luck had run out.
As the Prydwen crashed into the Atlantic Ocean, the skin blistering heat and flames from the hydrogen-fueled explosion swept over them both in an ocean of hellfire. The last thought on Ingram's mind wasn't Maxson. It was the bitter fact that this wasn't her fault. Pressing that button on her suit was supposed to initiate the attack protocols on the Institute just as Elder Maxson had planned should he fall in combat.
Liberty Prime had been sabotaged and Proctor Ingram died screaming Madison Li's name.