I woke up a little bit confused…forgot where I was and what was happening for a minute there. I was in a bed, in my house…or what was left of it…and it was raining outside. Sturgis had managed to fix the roof enough that it didn't leak too badly now so there was that at least. I lamented the lack of indoor plumbing (you don't understand the fall of civilization until you can't take a hot shower…) and headed for the outhouse. This is one of the reasons I hated camping.
I got dressed and strolled past the community cooking area. Mamma Murphy may have been a half-crazed chem-addict but the things she could do with a few plants and any kind of meat made me grateful she was around. Like many folks of my time, I was spoiled by the convenience of packaged food and carryout meals. When you have no choice, you eat what's in front of you and appreciate it. Today it was molerat stew and bread tough enough to drive nails with but it tasted good and filled the belly. She still gave me a bit of the stink eye as I moved through the line but I'd gotten used to that. We'd set up a few tarps to cover a common eating area too. It was outside but the rain stayed off the food anyhow.
I saw Preston out of the corner of my eye as I sat down. He and I had gotten into it a bit when I got back from Corvega. He'd made note of the fact that the sled I was dragging had more armor and weapons than food and water and asked about stuff I'd left behind.
"Yeah, this was all I could haul. If I happen to go by there again I may try for the rest…if it's still where I left it.:
"You have a pile of guns and armor but not much in the way of supplies," he said critically. "The meat you've been bringing in has helped a lot but these people need food to survive. You can't eat guns."
"And you can't shoot Cram at raiders, either," I snapped back. "Garvey, you know more about living out here than I do and that's a fact, but you're not the only one with training. I've done everything from spec ops to full-on battles with tanks, planes and lots of men on both sides. You're not dealing with some hick with a rifle here. I know how to survive."
"You know how to survive in a war…with supplies and support and equipment around you," he shot back. He wasn't really angry but he was determined to make his point. "You've never had to worry about supporting a whole community before, at least not that you've ever let on. There are still a lot of things we don't know about you, Smith. Like where would you ever get training and combat experience with tanks and planes? That sort of combat went out with the War."
"Don't tug that thread yet, Garvey," I cautioned him. "I happened to show up when you needed help and I helped. You asked me to stay and I stayed. You asked me to help out some people and I did and now we've got two farms trading food for weapons, armor and protection. All in less than a week. Considering you were about an hour short of being raider-chow when we met, I'd say you've come out of the deal pretty good so far."
"I'm not disputing that point," he replied, his tone a little softer. I'd hit a nerve. "But I've been burned by people I trusted before. Sure, you've helped us out a lot but in return you get three hots a day, a place to sleep without worrying about waking up in some dog's teeth and you even get some company now and then. That new girl that strolled in the other day? You two aren't exactly discreet."
"All I'm saying is that if I'd wanted to hurt you or your people, I could have joined the raiders back in Concord," I said, dialing my own tone down a notch. I was right, he knew I was right, so there was no point in beating him up with it. Negotiations 101. "If I'd wanted to hurt those people you asked me to help, I could have taken raiders right back to them too. I helped you and yours out in Concord and trusted you to watch my back when we came here…now I expect you to trust me when I'm the one laying my neck on the line out there. Our defenses, and the defenses of those two farms, are pathetic. We need training, weapons, ammunition and proper defenses."
"People can't do all of that on an empty stomach," he replied firmly. "These people know what's at stake. They stare at death almost daily. They're willing to work like Hell to survive…but work means food, clean water, and rest. There's no point in having guns to shoot or walls to defend when the people are staggering zombies from hunger and exhaustion."
"I can't argue with that," I agreed. "We need a compromise, then. How about we bring one person here from each settlement to train? They can pick their own representative…someone they know and respect. No point trying to shove information down their throats. They have to be willing to listen to whoever is talking to them."
"And we train the representative, then they go back and start to train the rest of their people," he nodded as he mulled it over out loud. "Now that is a plan I can get behind. Each settlement rep will know their own people better than we will. They'll have a better idea who to train for security, who to assign to building, who to run supplies. Each to their own talents."
"Right. Then, once we have more materials, more food, and more weapons you and I can go from one settlement to the next, inspecting the defenses and adding to the training. They'll already have the basics so we're not wasting our time with how to load a gun and simple shit like that. We can check lines of fire, maybe teach a few simple tactics. Different enemies might attack in different ways."
"Yeah, Super-Mutants are way different than raiders or Ghouls," he agreed. I had to stop him for a moment.
"Wait…Super what exactly?"
"Super-Mutants," he said again. I wanted to make sure I'd heard him right the first time. "Really big, mostly pretty dumb but strong as Hell. They eat most things smaller than themselves, usually things with two arms and legs. On a good day, the Mutants and the raider gangs fight each other. No matter who wins, it's good for us. Sometimes though, they attack settlements. The people mostly run and hide and the Mutants smash everything they can find. Fighting them isn't often and option because they can take a dozen hits from a pipe rifle and sometimes they carry heavier guns."
"Like the minigun we pulled from the vertibird?"
"Yep…sometimes missile launchers," he nodded.
"Missiles?" I gaped. Up until now the biggest explosive I'd seen, that I hadn't made myself, was a grenade. If someone had missiles that changed the rules of the game. "How the Hell can missiles still fire after all this time?"
"Mostly military crates," he replied. "Sometimes you find a stash somewhere, sealed up since the war. There are a couple of factions that might be able to make their own but I'd bet they're still just reusing pre-war machinery and figuring out how to make it work. Homemade missiles tend to just blow up in the tube. You know anything about military ordinance?"
"I've blown up a few things in my time," I hedged. "I wouldn't want to arm any of our people with something like that…not yet anyway. It's a shame Molotovs take so damned much fuel and we never seem to have enough of it. I'd trust people with those and most things with a brain are afraid of fire."
"Another thing to table for another day, I guess,"
It had been a tense few minutes but we'd both said what we'd had to say and had found a good middle ground. Now here he was again, trying to figure out how best to make his approach. I decided to let him off the hook this time.
"You lookin for me?" I said as I strolled up, still finishing breakfast.
"How can you tell?"
"You looked at me during breakfast and these days we only talk when we're fighting or you need me to do something," I replied casually around a mouthful of stew. "I appreciate you waiting until after breakfast, though."
"I know it seems like I'm asking a lot of you, and I am, but you know what being in the military is like. The minute you prove you're capable of doing something…"
"…suddenly the job is yours," I finished the sentence for him. It was an old adage of the military, any military, that no good deed went unpunished. I'd proved that I could shoulder more than most and that meant that I would be asked to. Some days it's better to keep your head down.
"Word has started to get around about us helping other settlements," he said as he took out his map and laid it on the table. "There's a place called Oberland Station, next to the railroad tracks just across the river. They sent word that raiders are taking their food at gunpoint…the usual tactics."
"That's quite a hike," I told him and I measured it out with my thumb. "What's the river water like?"
"Not as hot as the standing water around here, moving water tends to be a bit cleaner, but you don't want to go swimming in it if you don't have to. There's a bridge to the East, near the brewery, and a railroad trestle you can cross due North of the station. If you follow the tracks headed South, you can't miss it."
"It's a haul but I can check it out," I replied with a sigh. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life defending farmers but for now it seemed like a good way to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. The redhead that had wandered in a few days ago wasn't tough to look at either and she liked the idea of not wandering around in the wilderness, alone. As long as I didn't have a better plan, I might as well go along for the ride.
"I appreciate that," he said. "Anyone that you bump into along the way, feel free to mention us at your discretion."
"Thanks, Dad," I smirked, then remembered something. "I heard someone talking about a farm run just by robots. Know anything about that?"
"There's a place called Graygarden just north of Oberland," he pointed to the map. "That might be it. I don't know how robots could do something like that without at least some Human direction though."
"Oh, it wouldn't be that difficult, Sir," we both heard from behind us. I hadn't seen much of Codsworth since we'd had to tell him his Missus was dead so he startled me a little. "A collection of robots, with the right programming, could easily handle a small farm for an indefinite period of time. We never tire or sleep, you know."
"Would they be willing to trade with us, do you think?" Preston asked.
"I'm not sure," he replied after processing for a moment. "They might though, if their programming allowed it. I could go with you if you liked. They might be more willing to speak to me."
"You're not exactly the sneakiest toy in the box, Codsworth," I said as I looked him up and down. Shiny metal everywhere, that damned thruster that he used to stay in the air. He'd be useful but any chance of creeping around quietly went out the window with him around.
"Oh please, Sir," he begged. "It's been just terrible around here since the bombs fell. Two centuries with no one to talk to…no one to serve. Then the Missus tells me that Sir was killed, Shaun was kidnapped and then she's killed by those creatures at the Red Rocket station. I was the one that gave her directions to go there. Maybe if I'd insisted that she stay here…"
"What do you think, Smith?" Preston asked. I could see he was skeptical.
"Codsworth, how much weight can you carry?" I asked.
"My thrusters are working at over ninety percent efficiency," he announced proudly. "I can easily carry a hundred pounds and still function."
"That settles it, then," I announced firmly. "I can take him along to help me carry shit if nothing else. If I find anything particularly valuable, Stimpaks or food or clean water, I can load him up and send him back with them. Then he can fill you in on my progress and either wait here or come back as the situation dictates."
"You have done this before," Preston smiled. "Okay, Codsworth…let's get you fitted with some cargo bags of some kind. No point in filling your hands if there's a fight."
"Right away, Sir!" Codsworth replied happily. Great, my new partner was an over-exuberant robot with a rocket engine stuck up his ass. And I was going to take him into the unknown with me. My life just keeps getting better and better.