Her head was pounding.
Had she been drinking all night? She'd promised the Administrator that she'd never do that again. Miss Pauling groaned and rubbed at her face. Her glasses were gone, her hair was down and she was tucked up under a scratchy blanket. Had she stumbled to a motel? What had…
The robots.
Miss Pauling's eyes shot open but she squeezed them shut again almost instantly. Her eyes were burning, the antiseptic smell of the room invaded her senses.
She tried to compose herself, to settle her breathing. From the glimpse of the room she'd seen, they'd been no other people around, no robots.
People were talking softly in another room. Human voices, not robotic or static-filled. Miss Pauling strained her ears to listen over her throbbing headache.
"She just seems more concerned with selling our supplies. I understand that we haven't had a real battle in a long time but that's no reason to stop stockpiling." One voice said.
"I get that but I heard that Fumes are pretty easy to make." Another voice said.
"Yet we can only make it raw. Inhalers aren't made anymore. It doesn't make any sense selling the portable stock." The first voice replied.
"I get it doc, I get it. I better go back on patrol. Call me if that girl wakes up." There was a rhythmic clunking sound of heavy footsteps, then the creak and slam of a door.
Miss Pauling forced her eyes open again, only a crack. The world around her was a blurry, painful cloud of brown and grey. Her eyes adjusted best they could without her glasses, she stared up at a mismatched ceiling.
As Pauling returned to her senses, she began to piece together what had happened. Her situation was not a good one. At least those voices had been organic and not robotic, they seemed friendly enough. Well, more friendly than Teufort's residents.
She rolled her head to the side, careful not to shake up her headache, and looked around. Beside her was a small metal table. Miss Pauling reached out and found her glasses, neatly folded up. She put them on and her vision slid into focus.
The room was spartan. There was a single metal table and chair adorned with shiny metal tools. Her messenger bag was safely stowed on the bedside table, alongside a battered book. A curtain covered the upper half of the door frame. The walls themselves seemed to be tin, it gave off a rustic, almost homely feel.
Miss Pauling had to escape, that much she knew. She was extremely vulnerable here. In an unknown place with unknown people. Sure, she could fight or charm her way out, she'd done it before. But something about Teufort made her think it'd be harder than that.
A flourish of a white coat scattered all logical thoughts in Miss Pauling's head.
"Medic?" Miss Pauling croaked, surprised by how hoarse her own voice was.
The lab coat returned to the door frame, a hand raised up and pushed the curtain aside. It was not Medic. He was young and thin, with brown skin and dark hair pulled back in a bun. He wore a warm smile. Still labcoat-clad and wearing tall military boots but definitely not the German Medic.
"Ah, you're awake, good." He said with an American accent. Miss Pauling pushed herself into the sitting position and watched the man carefully. "And you found your glasses, excellent."
When Miss Pauling didn't respond, the man cleared his throat. "I'm Dr Austin, I'm the medic here. One of our soldiers brought you in. You got caught in a pretty mean Haboob. How are you feeling, miss…?"
"Pauling." Miss P said bluntly.
"Well you talk, that's something." Dr Austin pulled up a chair and sat with his forearms resting on his thighs. "If you don't mind me saying, Pauling, you look quite out of place. Where did you come from? My guess is a vault."
"Something like that." Miss Pauling decided to play along. "Is it that obvious?"
"I'm afraid so. You're far cleaner than any other patient I've had today. Thankfully, the storm did little damage to you. You're almost good to go."
Miss Pauling frowned, "Almost?"
Dr Austin stood and moved towards the metal table, he picked up a hand mirror. "Well, first of all, I'd like you to see the damage yourself." He handed the mirror to Miss Pauling. "Perhaps I can convince you to take a quick eye examination, just to make sure no sand has gotten in there."
"Maybe." Miss Pauling grimaced at her own reflection. She looked the same way she had after her college's last big party. Dishevelled hair; bruised forehead; chapped lips and bags under her eyes. Okay, maybe she always had bags under her eyes but still.
"Secondly, I'm going to need some form of payment. Unless you're part of the Project. But if you're from a vault then I guess you're not."
Miss Pauling grimaced again. "How much?"
"200."
Not as expensive as she was expecting, honestly.
"Yeah, there should be enough in my bag." She nodded to her satchel and regretted it. Fluid sloshed in her head and made her version swim. Pauling squeezed her eyes shut and pushed her fingertips against them.
"These aren't caps, Pauling."
Miss Pauling looked up. "Caps?"
"Bottle caps."
Pauling's eyes widened. Those bottle caps she poured onto the ground back in Teufort. "That's your money?" She said before she could stop herself.
Dr Austin shrugged. "Paper burns, metal doesn't. It's the same for everyone."
She covered her face again.
"However, old money had its uses. I'd say that all of this would cover you." The doctor continued, giving the bag a shake.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"One of these," Dr Austin held up a wad of cash. "Is worth about.. 10 caps? Given that you can barter decently. And here you have… a number."
"Great."
"I'm sorry Pauling. I'll let you keep your bag and gun. Maybe you could convince the local caravan to take you on. Earn some extra cash as a mercenary."
Miss Pauling wasn't a big fan of irony. "Yeah, sure. Thanks, doc."
One eye exam and a stern 'take it easy for a few days' later, Miss Pauling was discharged with a noticeably lighter bag. She pushed the metal door of the hospital open and stepped outside.
Once her eyes had adjusted to the blinding morning sun, Miss Pauling could see the encampment. Everything was either bleached or tanned by the unforgiving light. Frayed and faded posters layered building's walls, some of which were nothing more than rusted corrugated tin. The building's themselves varied in quality, some were crooked buildings when others were simply tents. Dirty cloth danced in the gentle breeze that also brought the smell of mud, rust and gunpowder. All around the camp were walls; dark grey and at least eight feet tall. Some people took shelter in the shadows that they provided.
People. The first group of friendly people Miss Pauling had seen since escaping the Administrator's vault. To be honest, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been with people who weren't mercenaries or people out to kill her. They leant against the great walls, a handful smoking. The rest milled around the camp. Some wore leathery hide while others only wore soiled cloth. A dozen wore some kind of uniform, almost like Soldier's. With dark [blue or red] military tunics and holsters carrying weapons, mostly automatics, Miss Pauling noted.
Everyone was everywhere, mingling or hiding from the sun. Children ran through. When was the last time she'd seen a normal child? One woman yelled out to a child, telling them to come back, to not throw rocks at…
A tank.
A tank. Slumped over in the middle of the camp.
One of Gray Mann's bomb carriers. Its armour had become a blistered duck egg blue hiding coppery rust beneath. One of its caterpillar wheels was bent inwards, leaving the tank leaning to the left. The wheel was half buried in sticky mud that had not yet dried, the dampness allowing vine-like plants to crawl on the tank's surface. People walked around it as though it wasn't a highly explosive weapon capable of killing them all.
Miss Pauling stepped toward it, standing under the shade of a metal gazebo. The tank was riddled with names. About a dozen of them, carved on the tank's surface.
She couldn't read them all. She didn't want to get any closer to try. As if the metal carcass would hum back to life. The rumbling and whirring and high pitch squeaking of the tank in motion was engraved into her memory. She'd lost count of how many tanks her mercs had destroyed.
"She's a beaut, isn't she." Came a voice.
Miss Pauling looked over her shoulder and almost jumped out of her skin. There behind her was the robot from the sandstorm. With it's bulky, squarish body and hinge-like joints. Expect this time it held it's head under an arm, and in its place was a very much human face, speckled with freckles. The face frowned at Miss Pauling's reaction.
"Hey, don't worry, it's me. I'm the one who saved you." She said.
Saved you? Automatically, Miss Pauling's hand was on her gun. The robot person raised a hand.
"I'm Captain Lily. I know what you think I am but I swear, I'm all flesh under here." The Captain frowned, "Right, that sounds weird but…"
Miss Pauling's hand didn't leave her weapon. She scrutinised the Captain. There was no unnatural shaking. No smokestacks coming from her back. Just a slightly sun burnt face and a pair of glinting blue eyes.
After a moment's more hesitation, Miss Pauling let her hand fall away from her gun. "Sorry." She said with a nervous smile. "So, what is all that?"
Lily patted her chest, "Power armour. The best in the wastes."
Wastes? As in wasteland? Miss Pauling frowned, to which Lily responded, "Right, you don't know what this is, do you? Uh, it's a suit of armour, that's powered. Yeah."
"Oh wow, that's pretty impressive." Pauling did her best not to sounds sarcastic, she was genuinely impressed by the armour, the mercs could have really done with some battle armour. Not that they'd really care for armour, going by that one time Medic ran into battle shirtless. But, her mind was still on the wastes comment. Scout had called the Badlands a wasteland before, but he had grown up in an urban place, so it made sense coming from him.
"Yeah yeah, the only things that can survive those storms. Apart from you of course." When Miss Pauling didn't respond Lily smiled and took a step forward, "Hey, I'm not surprised you thought I was a bot, pretty hard to see in those Haboobs, right?." She extended a gloved hand, "No hard feelings."
"No hard feelings." Miss Pauling echoed, giving the soldier's hand a firm shake.
"Anyways. The colonel wanted to see you."
"The colonel? Why?"
"You're the first vaultie we've seen in like, twenty years. We're all pretty curious."
Great, Miss Pauling thought. "What's she gonna do to me?"
Lily laughed, "Uhh, talk to you? We don't do that dissecting thing anymore." At Pauling's alarmed expression she raised her hands, "Joking, joking. I'll report to her now. For now well, welcome to the camp, enjoy your stay."
"Oh." Pauling looked around. Some extra time before speaking to some form of the military was always appreciated. She'd need to formulate some kind of believable lie.
"Food is that way, store's over there, bar up that way and the colonel's down there. But you'll get the call when she wants to see you, so someone'll take you down."
Pauling nodded, "Thank you."
"No problem. See you around, ma'am." The Captain gave a small, two-fingered salute before stomping away.
Miss Pauling cursed herself when she felt her cheeks burn and her heart flutter. Was she really that desperate for another girl to be nice to her? Although, in most cases it was almost as if someone had pre-decided that all women would oppose her. This was a nice change.
She glanced around the shabby camp.
Where had that doctor said they were hiring? Pauling thought as she glanced around. She wasn't exactly interested in being a mercenary, but some actual money would help. There's always the…'caps' I left in Teufort. She grimaced at the thought, no not yet, best not to get killed. I need to be alive for the Administrator… Maybe I could hire someone. Miss Pauling looked to where Lily had pointed out the store. That looked like a good starting place, especially since she didn't know how these 'caps' worked.
The store was a large, windowless building in the opposite direction of the tank, which was, for whatever reason: the centrepiece of the camp. Miss Pauling pushed on the metal door, made from a car bonnet, and stepped inside.
Cold air hit Miss Pauling as she entered. The building opened out into one big room with a lopsided, wooden counter at the far end. Behind the counter was a middle-aged, balding man in grey overalls. Behind him was a curtained doorway.
Two metal tables acted as display cases for various tat. An alarm clock; a broken wrench and a pair of rusted guns. Miss Pauling frowned at those, they hardly looked reliable and would probably break after firing a full round. That's what you get for buying guns with bottlecaps, she thought.
"What can I interest you in ma'am?" The balding man asked from behind the counter. He looked Miss Pauling up and down. "Some armour?"
"Well uh," Pauling started as she approached the counter and peered over it. "Let's see what you have."
"Depends how many caps you have, I've got this old set of leathers for 150."
"Is this everything you have?"
"Are you complaining? Show me your caps."
Miss Pauling chewed the inside of her lip, "Actually, I was wondering if you had any work."
"For who? You?" The man chuckled, "Sorry little girl, don't wanna waste my time with someone who's gonna get killed in an instant."
Little girl. Pauling fumed internally but tried again, "You don't know what I can do. Your jobs can't be as dangerous as my... Other jobs."
"Yeah, right." He thumbed his nose, "So what, you want me to offer you some… scouting mission? Guess you'll be wanting me to give you some extra ammo before you go, right?"
"I_"
"I've served your type before." He leant forward on his counter. "You don't have any caps, do you?"
No respect. Miss Pauling realised that she had balled her fists and squared her jaw.
"I don't serve freeloaders. And I don't wanna buy your junk neither. Johan, get her out of here." The man waved his hand at Pauling with a sneer.
"She's not threatening you." Came a voice from behind Pauling. She stepped back to address the other man in the room. Johan was leant against the wall next to the door. He glanced between the merchant and Miss Pauling with dark, tired eyes. At his slouched height he was barely taller than Pauling herself.
"I hired you to do what I say." The merchant snapped. He pointed at Johan. "Just do your job!"
"You hired me to protect your store. She's not doing any harm."
"Yeah, I'm just window shopping." Miss Pauling added.
The merchant momentarily broke away from his angry state. "You're what?"
"If you really want me to get rid of potential customers, well that's on you pal."
"She can come back when she's got caps."
"Fine." Johan pushed himself off the wall, revealing that he was an inch or two taller than Pauling. Minus a mop of black, messy, hair.
"What?! You can't just kick me out!" Miss Pauling shouted.
"Sorry." Before Pauling could reach for her gun, Johan had looped an arm under her shoulder and tugged her out of the store.
Miss Pauling pulled away from him the moment they were outside and levelled her gun with him, just as a warning. Johan a holstered shotgun but didn't aim it at her. "Trust me lady, I know which one of these hurts more."
"So do I." Pauling said, lowering her gun. "Just don't do that."
Johan nodded, he glanced down at the ground. "Listen, I shouldn't do this but here." He reached to his belt and unhooked a small burlap sack that jangled when he tossed it towards Miss Pauling. She caught it in one hand. "It's not enough to buy those leathers, but it's something. He'll cool off in an hour or so."
Miss Pauling looked down at the sack. She bit back a retort on not needing handouts and instead said "Thank you." for the second time that day.
"No problem," Johan said. With a nod, he opened the store door and walked back inside. Miss Pauling swore she heard a muffled 'Happy now?'.
The bar was the next closest that Miss Pauling could remember. It too was a shabby metal building, unlike the store, it had grates for windows.
Low chatter floated out from the bar even before Miss Pauling had opened the door. The last time she'd been surrounded by so many people was on a mission, and they were attacking her, and she was running from them. It was a nice change.
A dim light flickered overhead, but the light from outside was enough to illuminate the room. The 'bar' itself was a botched collection of random pieces of wood. Two people stood behind it, chatting as they cleaned some glasses. One nodded to Miss Pauling as the door closed behind her.
"What can I get you?" They asked.
"Just a water, please."
They laughed, "Just a water, sure. 20 caps for the clean stuff."
Miss Pauling decided against arguing. She handed over the caps and took the water, which was canned, for some reason.
As she was putting her water into her bag, a man in the corner of the bar caught her eye with a wave. Tinted goggles covered his eyes and a beret covered his head. Miss Pauling recognised the pale blue cameo he wore but couldn't for the life of her place it. He waved to her again.
Cautiously, Miss Pauling approached him. He smirked, "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Why are you asking?" Miss Pauling retorted, folding her arms.
The man's smirk got bigger, "Well now, I'm looking for somebody, not from around here, to do a job for me. It pays well. Interested?"
Pauling frowned, "What is it?"
"First let me ask you this." The man leant back in his seat, "Are you attached to this town in any way?"
"No."
"Good. I can see that the Colonel hasn't gotten to you yet. How would you feel if this place was wiped from the map? Would it really make a difference to your life?"
Miss Pauling glanced over her shoulder on instinct. "What are you talking about?"
"There's a bomb in this town, my girl. It's been here for a long time and nobody has ever thought it disarm it. All we need is one… *unattached person* to rig it to explode. They can even come to the station to watch the fireworks. How does that sound?"
Pauling thought for a moment, "But there are kids here."
"The offer's on the table girl, sleep on it." He glanced behind her as the door of bar creaked open, "Oh and, do yourself a favour and don't mention this conversation to anyone, understand?"
"Is that a threat?" Miss Pauling hissed.
"It might be, we Classics don't forget the ones who crossed us."
Classics. Now Miss Pauling recognised the uniform. The Classics. The team that her mercs had replaced. This was bad news. According to the administrator, they'd gone rogue after they lost their jobs, taking on shady contract after shady contract. Of course they wouldn't care about killing children. She'd read their scout's file, it made her Scout seem like a gentleman.
She scrutinised the man. Tinted goggles were a trend in the Classics, but other than that the man shared no resemblance to any of the men on the team. Hell, his hair still had colour.
Wait, how long had she been away. Ten years? Twenty? There was no way that the Classics would still be alive. Even if they were, they wouldn't be active. Maybe that's why they want an 'unattached person'. They're probably held up in their old people homes, having their_
"Pauline?" Came a voice from the door.
Miss Pauling turned away from the Classic to face Captain Lily. She felt a small smile pull at her lips, "Actually it's Pauling; Miss Pauling."
The Captain's mouth formed an 'O' as she nodded. "Miss Pauling. The Colonel will see you." With a last glance at the Classic, Lily turned on her heel and left the bar.
Miss Pauling did not bother to look back at the Classic. She didn't want anything to do with him. She considered telling Lily about his proposal, but she considered her vulnerable position and changed her mind.
Outside the bar, the Captain stepped in front of Pauling and beckoned her to follow. Her armour clanked and hissed with each step. Not the stealthiest equipment, Miss Pauling mused as she followed behind, And not something Spy would ever use. Looks like it could take a beating though, can a bullet even get through it?
Miss Pauling was led to the back of the camp, where the shadows of the walls were the tallest. The structure of the buildings had changed from rickety scrap to steel and brick. No longer hand build, but still small, rusted and battered, just less likely to creak or fall down. Among the building stood large, canvas tents, military grade, with metal doors and cement on the ground. Miss Pauling couldn't get a good look at them, but she could guess that they were patches on the roofs.
Lily came to a halt in front of one steel building and checked over her shoulder for Miss Pauling. Satisfied, she knocked and waited. A voice permitted her entry. The captain opened the door and marched into the centre of the room.
"Ma'am, Captain Lily reports. That vaultie is awake, she's here."
Miss Pauling waited in the doorway. The building felt cool compared to the desert heat outside. The room was barely big enough for one desk and a few file cabinets, plus for the suit of power armour to stand without knocking anything over. An electric bulb buzzed overhead.
"Ah, let's see her then." Lily stepped aside and nodded to Pauling.
Behind the desk sat the Colonel. A broad-shouldered, blonde haired woman. She smiled at Miss Pauling and stood. "Hello, miss. What is your name?"
"Pauling." Miss P answered, unconsciously bringing her hands together in front of her. "I-N-G."
"Pauling," The Colonel parroted. She thrust a hand out, "I'm Colonel Alexandria, you can call me Alex."
Miss Pauling stepped into the room and took Alexandria's hand, who shook it firmly. "Take a seat please, and we'll set you on your way." She gestured to a plastic chair. "Captain, please wait outside."
The Captain stomped out of the room as Miss Pauling sat down, "What do you mean, send me on my way?"
Alexandria sat down again. She took a pen and opened a folder. "Well unless you're wanting to stay with us, I'll be hoping to get you supplied so you can actually survive out there. Was that p-A-U-l-i-n-g."
"Y-yes. Wait, you're giving me stuff?"
"Well, not me. I'd like to but I can't." The Colonel scribbled Pauling's name in the corner of the folder. Miss Pauling frowned internally. "You're from a vault, right? Deep underground shelters with those gear shaped doors?"
"Yes." Miss Pauling watched the Colonel check a box on a form in the folder.
"What number was that?"
Miss Pauling frowned, externally this time. "Zero."
Alexandria looked up at Pauling. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright, where's the rest of the vault's population?"
Rest of the.. Oh no. Miss Pauling grimaced. She remembered what the Administrator had told her not even a day ago. Engineer wanted to use the vaults for the public. So the robots had won. And Engineer had won the Admin over. How many were there? "They.. Uh.."
The Colonel studied Pauling expression with dark green eyes. She sighed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Do you know what killed them?"
"Um… Robots!"
Alexandria frowned and scribbled on the form. "I thought we'd gotten the last of those. Which way did you come from?"
"Towards Teufort but uh, not near that rocky, cavey area. Away from that. Far away."
The Colonel nodded, "Far away." She put the pen down and scanned over the form. "Well Miss Pauling, I'm sorry to hear that. Is that why you're not in uniform?"
"Yes. This, this was in the vault."
She looked Miss Pauling up and down, "Not something I'd wear but it beats soiled clothes." The Colonel stood. "Now, Pauling. Welcome, to Camp Archimedes. I hope you enjoy your stay, we have_"
"Hold on, Camp Archimedes?"
"Yes." Alex answered slowly. "We were founded before the great war."
Miss Pauling leant back in her seat. "Who are you? And what war?"
"The war against Gray Mann." The Colonel said with the patience of death. "And we are Motherland. Before the war, we were Project Oktoberfest, in case you were wondering why we're sometimes called The Project."
"Oh no." Miss Pauling muttered before she could stop herself. "When was this? Are your founders this big Russian guy and this other German guy. If so could you please tell me where they are?" The last thing she needed was Heavy and Medic owning a small army. Well, Heavy was okay, just not Medic.
Alexandria's face darkened. Pauling could hear the carefulness in her voice, "I couldn't tell you. The war was two hundred years ago."
"Two.." Miss Pauling licked her lips and chuckled, "Could you repeat that?"
"Two. Hundred. Years." The words came slowly but struck Miss Pauling in the stomach.
"No." She breathed.
The Colonel back in her seat, "A German and a Russian, you say?" She stood, "That can't be a coincidence. What do you know, Miss Pauling?"
"Nothing! I-I.."
"Miss Pauling." She raised her voice, "Who are you?"
"I… Oh God.." Miss Pauling pushed away from the desk. "I don't know."
"Miss Pauling, I'm going to have to detain you. Please do not resist."
"No!" Pauling backed up to the door. "I don't understand, why would she do this to me?"
"Who? Miss Pauling, who are you talking about." The Colonel rounded the desk. "Miss Pauling! Stop! Captain!"
Miss Pauling burst out of the building only to run into the Captain's metal, chest. Large, cold, arms closed around Pauling smaller frame.
"No no no, wait!" Miss Pauling racked her mind in desperation, looking for some way to free herself. "The Classics… they."
"Captain. Do not harm her." The Colonel stepped out into the midday sun, "Miss Pauling, please try to understand. You will not be hurt. You need to come with us."
"Two hundred years, that can't be right." Pauling whispered to no one in particular.
The Captain loosened her grip. "What's she talking about?"
"She knows things. Get her to the detention rooms, but do not allow her to be harmed." She looked down at Miss Pauling. "Don't panic ma'am, please."
Miss Pauling heaved a defeated sigh, she could feel her hands begin to shake and her eyes burn with tears. Confused and aggrieved, she allowed herself to be led away.