Directorate Meeting Room, the Institute, September 29, 2289, 9:12am
"The Directorate calls this meeting to order, if we can move then with the first item on the agenda, the approval of minutes from our meeting last September 19th, 2289," Dr. Allie Filmore, the chief assistant to the Director said, moderating as usual. The members of the Directorate looked at the clipboards in front of them, reviewing each item and making sure it was accurate.
"Seconded," said Dr. Ayo.
"Seconded," this time from Dr. Li.
"Seconded," from Dr. Holdren.
"Seconded," said Dr. Binet.
"Seconded," Handy continued the chain, a somewhat softer tone as he leaned back, fiddling with his twirled-up mustache.
"Seconded," said Brig. General Garvey.
"And seconded," said the newest member of the Directorate, Dr. Curie.
"The motion has been moved and seconded, moving then ladies and gentlemen to the second item on the agenda, I give the floor to Dr. Li."
"Thank you Dr. Filmore. Advanced Systems wishes to report the latest development on the fusion-Terrestrial anti-armor ammunition project. A particular breakthrough has been achieved with the 10mm variant, as the bullet casing and fusion payload located inside the hollow-point have been properly calibrated, as one will see with this test result." A hologram projector in the center of the long table lit up to life with a holo of a synth shooting a very crude-looking gun at a standard T-51b Power Armor chest piece. The bullet bounced right off, but the energy payload it carried opened a visible hole on the armor. The rest of the directorate nodded. "Of course, the ammunition is still incompatible with standard pre and post-war ballistic firearms, but it's proved very effective with our prototype." The holo-projector came to life once more, this time with footage of Handy beating the firing range record with God's Deliverance. The footage sent everyone grinning towards the Director, who smirked and gave them a shrug.
"In creating this one-of-a-kind prototype for the Director however, Dr. Orman and I have stumbled upon new technology that could potentially change the way we deal ordnance." The holo shifted once more to footage of Handy summoning the pistol from his Pip-Boy, which drew gasps and closer looks from the department heads.
"Now that's a way to conceal a weapon," Preston whistled, turning his eyes to Handy. "General? I suppose you don't mind if you..."
The rest of the directorate turned their eyes to the head of the table expectantly, and Handy obliged. He unlocked his Pip-Boy, pressed the icon and grabbed the projected hologram. A flash emanated, slightly shocking the people around. But when it was gone. There was God's Deliverance there in front of them; Handy removed the magazine and set it down on the table to show that it was in fact real.
"That's some impressive work, Dr. Li," Preston said.
"Thank you, General Garvey."
"And General, that's a hell of a hand-cannon you got."
Handy reattached the magazine and relayed it back into the safe box relocated in the Director's quarters. "Again, all the credit goes to Dr. Li and her department."
"That concludes my report," Madison said to Dr. Filmore.
"Thank you, Dr. Li. Moving on to the next item, I now give the floor to Dr. Justin Ayo."
"Thank you. The SPB wishes to report a successful contact established by our Director," he motioned towards Handy, "and a splinter group of the Brotherhood of Steel, exactly one week ago today."
People in the room gasped and were generally surprised. "I thought the intel was a glitch from a decrepit synth?" Dr. Holdren chimed.
"We were proven wrong upon further reconnaissance of the southwest region of the Commonwealth, and we were able to track a particularly skilled mercenary who went by 'Darling' to a particularly large bunker, other settlers were seen coming to and from this bunker that matched our old files on potential Brotherhood infiltrators. What we managed to find back when Elder Maxson was pulling the strings was that they were in hiding from the main Brotherhood of Steel Chapter, possibly dissidents or malcontents. What we now know is that they are headed by Elder Sarah Lyons, daughter of the late Owyn Lyons, and from our contacts in the Capital Wasteland, previously presumed dead. Another caveat, ladies and gentlemen, is that at the time of Operation Airship Down, Sarah Lyons had assumed command of the Brotherhood of Steel."
Madison Li stirred in her seat and took a deep breath. Handy made a note of it and let the meeting continue as he took over the report.
"Elder Lyons is alive. And with our contact meeting last week, we have confirmation that her Brotherhood has no interest in the extermination of synths. This new Brotherhood is very much like her father's in that it put the well-being of the people as a primary concern... as opposed to Elder Maxson's... crusade."
Dr. Curie visibly relaxed as Handy continued.
"Many viewed them as weak, especially some of the western extremists that attempted to have her assassinated. Those same extremists reside in the Capital Wasteland as we speak."
"Brilliant news, general," Preston said. "Ladies and gentlemen, if this isn't convincing enough, I don't believe anything will be."
"Agreed!" Dr. Li exclaimed.
"Dr. Ayo, I believe that concludes the report?" Handy asked. Justin Ayo checked his clipboard and nodded. "Yes, Director... that's just about it. Dr. Filmore?"
"Thank you for your report Dr. Ayo, Director. Moving on to the final item on the agenda, a joint report from Robotics and Artificial Intelligence."
"Thank you," Dr. Alan Binet and Dr. Curie said in unison. Alan began first, "This won't be long at all, and if I may add, I think our new allies in the Brotherhood will be most pleased. Dr. Curie?"
Curie stroked her synth uniform with an ahem and beamed from ear to ear. "Ladies and gentlemen, Director, Project Liberty Alpha is fully operational. Happy birthday, Director."
Handy beamed from ear to ear and bowed his head in gratitude.
Abernathy Center of Agriculture, September 29, 2289, 12:03pm
The Commonwealth had many buildings, most of them ruined, and all of them erected before the bombs fell, all of them except for one: The Abernathy Center of Agriculture. Thanks to the Institute being willing to share their findings in Warwick Homestead in 2287 with the rest of the wasteland, their investment has been returned with massive success, resulting in agricultural centers being built on Abernathy Farm, Graygarden, and Warwick itself. These centers were responsible for the clean food shipments that spread good food throughout Commonwealth City, and created everything from pure, pre-war vegetables and fruits, to synthetic, enhanced proteins. As a result of this, the average citizen from the Commonwealth was in much better physical condition than your average wastelander from elsewhere, and had a higher life expectancy by 5.3 years according to the folks at Institute Bioscience. Still a bit of a far cry from the average health of a pre-war citizen, but a wonderful start nonetheless. The farmers had also been doing much better these days; gone were the days of fearing for your lives and livelihood from raiders and the numerous mutated insects that called the wasteland home.
The prosperity of the land meant that less resources had to be poured into security, and synth soldiers were no longer being rolled out of the local factory line for combat; they were now precious assets, and when they weren't assigned on some crackdown, they stationed themselves inside the fortified walls of the Institute Centers of Agriculture, which arguably, were as much fortresses as they were farms.
Abby picked up a job of guarding a caravan going from Abernathy to Egret, since the Warwick Center diverted their last shipments to the resettlement program in Quincy. Builders and new settlers were quite the bit of mouths to feed.
Of course, synths took care of dismantling the highway structure that led to Quincy's demise in the past, so that left a handful of employed volunteers to demolish the old buildings and lay new foundations, a massive project to be sure, but it gave the NEA a stronghold in South Boston that would allow the disconnected Warwick to operate with more security.
The goods being shipped were contained in these large, lumbering Institute armored vans, the first functioning units of industrial land transportation seen in two centuries, patterned around the armored personnel carriers lying asleep around Boston.
"Detective, for the last time, what makes you think this caravan is hoarding chems?" Abby sarcastically jabbed, riding alongside the caravan with a lever-action rifle in hand (The NEA forbade automatic weaponry for mercs accompanying valuable goods, but the synths at their disposal were equipped with automatic Institute rifles, as well as a failsafe program that prevented any sort of mutinous action).
"Very funny. This caravan just happens to pass by my destination. Plus, I'm trying to get a feel for this non-boogeyman Institute." A certain famous detective replied.
"And how's that working out?"
"Never thought I'd be riding atop a synth animal, that's for sure."
Nick fixed his sitting position on the unknown beast.
"You can call them horses."
"Horses , huh? It seems my pre-war memories are being overwritten by the day. You seen many of these before?"
"Uhuh. Fortunately, now they don't shit on the sidewalk."
"Heh… That's good. I don't suppose non-defecating animals changes your opinion of the NEA?"
"Who knows? Maybe if they repopularized bidets…" Abby piped dismissively. Nick, catching the hint, decided to change his line of conversation.
"You aren't the only one, you know?"
"There he is. What's on your mind?" Abby knew this game of 'talk behind the Institute's back in plain sight. She had participated in the action many times when she figured out they had recording devices stationed everywhere.
"I've been committing to a little passion project of mine; for the benefit of the Commonwealth and all that."
"Anything substantial?"
"Not yet."
"Yet , huh?"
Silence followed.. Left alone to her thoughts, Abby thought back to the night of Director Galeone's visit. Thinking about it, Sarah inviting him for dinner was an inspired choice; it allowed them and the rest of the Brotherhood to examine who it was that was welcoming them.
Just what is he thinking? Abby being herself, was suspicious by nature, or rather by nurture . The Director was a figure she could not get a proper read on. She already had a distaste for soldiers and the idea behind them, but now she saw a soldier who rose way beyond his station… and beyond his ambitions. Some golden soldier boy wakes up, bumbles across Boston, and somehow he's currently heading the most powerful organization in the East Coast, possibly even the country. Then his first order of business was to announce his presence as the benevolent force in a cruel world. That shit is all too familiar; way too close to home... The man is dangerous, that's for sure, but his normal face is one that's unusually charming; charismatic. What's his deal?
"Hey, Valentine."
"Hmm?"
"You've worked with the Director when he first woke up from the ice. What was he like?"
The detective was rather surprised. Since when was she curious about anything other than a pay grade?
"And why do you wanna know?"
"Seeing as how the NEA basically has me as a regular employee, I'd like to know who my boss is. See if I can convince him to give me employee benefits."
Uhuh, right, he thought. Eh, what's the harm in telling her?
"He's... an interesting case. Nick was a cop, exposed to some bad stuff, but there was this principle that people used to convince themselves they were doing the right thing. Pretty easy thing to follow when you go home to a plush house with servant robots. Back when this wasteland was a country, people fought for the 'American way,' freedom; basically a right to do what you wanted to. It sounds bad, and as time went on, it was exposed as a front the government used to motivate its troops, but people really believed in it, us in the police force and especially the armed forces repeated it like a mantra when we broke away from Europe, went to war with China... then invaded Anchorage... and went after every last drop of oil left. Eventually you realize you're part of a cycle, that you're fighting for someone's interest, the right thing from a certain point of view. I think ol' Handy realized that when he retired. But now, God knows what he believes in. He walked this wasteland, there was freedom, too much freedom, maybe he's realized why the iron fists had to clench so tight... but if he has, he's done a hell of a job hiding it."
Abby stayed silent in contemplation, as did Nick. But after a moment, Nick reached into his trench coat. "Here, my passion project." Abby looked at him as he produced a holotape and handed it to her.
"What's this?" She asked.
"A lead, perhaps evidence. It's a leak I got from an old friend in the Institute. It implies something big ." Nick glanced around to make sure none of the fellow caravaners, sentient and synth (the latter under their orders) witnessed him.
"Scared, Valentine?"
"I know Handy eliminated a lot of the old invasive surveillance, but he found you, got the Elder's identity down to a T. Can't be too safe."
Suddenly, the sound of crude firearms cracked through the air, the synth horses stirred and jumped as a couple raiders made themselves seen, shouting high-pitched battle cries as twenty or so of them poured into view, hoping to surround the party.
Abby reined her horse in and rode up to poor Nick, jostling about atop his mount. She grabbed the holotape from his loose grip as quick as she could and put it in a bag attached to her belt. "I'll get to it later, then. Heeyah!"
The synths were at a ready stance, facing the raiders blankly and even absorbing some gunfire until Abby rode up to them. "They make themselves known on Father's road! Guns! Guns! Guns!"
The synths reached over their shoulders to their Institute rifles and bent on one knee in a neat line unfazed. The raiders were loose, they waged war by standing and shooting; it would not prove much against a line of machines, machines who held their fingers down on their triggers without care for how many bullets were buried into them. The Gen 1s sprayed the raider frontline with blue lasers, but though the raiders were now matched with a score of them dead, they didn't seem to break.
Abby was riding behind heavily fortified container vans, she would be a wide open target otherwise. The vehicles could take a beating, and that made them excellent cover, for both sides.
She saw some dust fly up from the van at the rear, and recognized what was going on immediately. The synths converged at the front line and every guard rode forward, leaving the caravan rear vulnerable. It was a classic pinscer movement. Abby rode hard to the rear, a foolhardy move, but no one had trained to fire against a cavalry unit since long before the bombs fell.
As she approached at a wide angle, she cranked the lever on her rifle and poised it as she just peeked around and-
BOOM, click click, BOOM, click click, BOOM!
Abby rode around the van and buried lead into the surprised raiders leaning against the van. They fired back but their aim was scattered, unlike Abby's.
BOOM, click click, BOOM!
The raiders desperately pushed around the van into the synth frontline, trying to implement their outflanking maneuver to gain some ground, but just as they disappeared from Abby's vision, they promptly came running back as Nick rode into view, revolver firing wildly into anything that moved.
"Huh..." Abby smirked at the amusing view, but her face grew serious once more as she stilled her horse and started firing at the running raiders as if they were part of a gallery. The raiders on the frontline began to break and retreat as well, seeing as the ace up their sleeve had done the same, and they were sustaining greater losses.
Abby checked on the status of her assigned synths; while a couple of them had parts dangling and chipped, they were still very much in fighting condition. She then looked at the retreating raider line, who were looking for their scattered comrades.
"They can't be allowed to regroup," she said to Nick, who had just managed to ride to her side.
"What is this, war?" Valentine said, exasperated.
Abby offered a cold smirk in response before turning to the synths. "Synths! Fight's not over yet! Charge, charge!"
She then gallops forward, placing her sights on three raiders running side-by-side. She aims at the one in the middle.
BOOM, click click
The raider drops to the ground, skidding as he breaks his fall with his face. His two other friends try to put some distance between themselves. Abby raises her rifle again.
*Chink*
Ah shit, should've brought that combat rifle.
With quick thinking, Abby grips her rifle by the barrel and runs her horse by the raider who just barely lagged behind his companion. She hoped the horse was programmed realistically, and when it kicked the raider, she was duly satisfied.
"GAHHH!"
Good thing these horses aren't squeamish. As soon as the raider crumpled, Abby raised her rifle and swung the butt of it at the adjacent raider's head.
The sound was akin to a watermelon breaking.
The combined force of her swing and the horse's momentum broke his neck, fracturing his skull and causing him to violently (and literally) bite the dust. Abby then quickly turns her head around to take note of any stragglers. Luckily, the synths were catching up to her to sweep up the rest. Nick casually rode up to Abby, sensing the synths could handle the remaining mess.
"Was that how you normally used horses? Nick asked.
"Normally, no. Ma never found out, she'd 'a killed me if she figured out what Uncle Lester taught me on ol' Thunderback. "
Abby chuckled to herself. Nick, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her drawl, suddenly remembered why he rode up to the merc.
"I think I should go here, past the bridge is a straight line to Diamond City."
"District."
"Hey it was my home first. I'm calling it what I called it first," Nick chuckled.
"Ahh, well, safe travels, Valentine."
"One last thing. Between you and me, the Director had Advanced Systems upload a universal override code tuned to his voice. Heavy encryption, recordings won't trigger it unless it's clean as pre-war Abraxo. 'Delta Riser niner-two-niner.' Hell knows what it means, but it wipes Artificial Intelligence's 'Humanity Code' and just about any program that gives a synth advanced thinking, makes every one subordinate as a turret."
Shit , she thought. Abby rarely expressed fear or disturbance though this revelation was close to cracking her.
"I'll... keep that in mind." And she would keep that in mind, in fact, it would cost her some hours of sleep as well. "So," Abby said as she began to load bullets back into her rifle one by one. "Who is this 'old friend' in the Institute ? I thought you were a reject."
"My last body was," Nick afforded a smile. "But now you're looking at a bona-fide Gen 2 Institute Synthetic Human. I refused a Gen 3 body, didn't wanna have to learn how to breathe again, and I thought it was a good idea... until I learned about that code. But if the signal would have affected all synths at least I'll be overridden wearing a clean body and a clean suit."
"Not exactly a comforting thought." Abby remarked. "Keep watching your back, yeah?"
"Comfort is in confidence, Darling. And I got some confidence in the people watching mine."