The last time Kaelyn broke into Faraday's terminal, she had been appalled by what she found.
This time it's an entirely different experience.
She can't stop shaking. The trembles start deep in her chest, radiating outward to her shoulders, her knees, her fingers. Blood whispers in her ears, then roars. A nerveless hand drags over her face as pressure builds at the base of her skull.
They've been under her skin, inside her very head.
Kaelyn blinks and realizes she's climbing the stairs two at a time, each step a blow that tightens her nerves. Fear halts her in the doorway of the telescope room, trapping her feet on the threshold. Air catches in her chest, imprisoned by constricting rib and tissue, while a prickle of sweat dampens her face.
DiMA notices her first. He and Faraday stand at one of the terminals at the far side of the observatory. Something makes him look up, the bulbs and cables at the back of his head jangling with the movement, absurdly loud in the quiet. Then Faraday follows, his reaction time constrained by flesh and neurological impulses.
Kaelyn can't breathe. Fear drives a spike of ice through her chest. But then a deeper, more primal kind of fear takes its place and forces her feet to move.
DiMA retreats to the dais at the center of the room, in the rectangle of light that burns away the smell of mold to replace it with warm plastic. He looks so sad, regret leadening his limbs, his hands slack at his sides. The old synth with the world hanging from his shoulders.
Faraday hovers behind his shoulder with dawning apprehension, drawing Kaelyn's attention. His throat bobs. "I— I'm sorry, but why are you looking at me like that?"
A whisper at first, climbing to a snarl. "You know why. Get out."
Clutching his clipboard to his chest, Faraday draws in a deep breath and leaves as quickly as he can without shifting his gait to a run.
DiMA makes an unhappy noise. "That is not necessary. I know you must be confused and angry, but please do not take it out on Faraday. He merely followed my directions."
"He had a choice. So did you." Her voice is so thick in her throat she chokes. "What did you do to me?"
The words from the log ghost across her mind's eye, at once looming inches from her head yet too distant to touch. She needs to hear it from him. She needs to know if it's true.
"You have not been forthright with us, and you must understand why your connection to the Institute's Directorate would be cause for alarm. Coupled with your… investigative skills, shall we say, I needed to know for certain your intentions for Acadia."
Kaelyn coils, wrapping her arms around her ribs, then realizes what a display of vulnerability it is. She drops her hands to hover by her sides. Everything she's done for synths, everything she's done to oppose the Institute, oppose her own son, and this is how they repay her?
DiMA continues softly, "So I delved into your memory to ascertain your affiliation. Browsed, if you will. None of your memories were modified. That was not our purpose, and too risky to attempt such a procedure on a human. I did question Nick, first, after you... exited the conversation, but he said it was your personal business."
A laugh bubbles in her chest, like a bottle of Nuka-Cola shaken to bursting, and she presses her fingers to her mouth lest hysteria overwhelm her. "There are easier ways to ask, DiMA."
His pearly eyes brim with that damned pity. "I admit, I never expected to meet anyone older than me."
Every memory she owns, pried out and reviewed like a pre-war TV show. Worse, she doesn't know which memories they touched, tarnished, tainted. Her old life: her family, law school, Nate and Sanctuary Hills. Vault 111. Kellogg and the Institute. Shaun and the developmental origins of third generation synths—and the Railroad. Every scrap of intel she possesses, graced by her position as one of their best heavies, now compromised. Every agent, every face, every safe house she knows and Old North Church—
Maybe she hasn't always wanted them, but they're hers.
"I didn't get lost in the Fog, did I? You lied to Nick about that too, sent Chase—" A stab of pain lances Kaelyn, somewhere to the right of her heart. The betrayal simmers in her gut, roiling together with sudden resentment.
DiMA holds out a hand, and she recoils. "Please, do not blame her. My instructions were to peacefully subdue you and bring you back to Acadia. She did not know what I intended."
Running a hand through her hair, Kaelyn wants to hold her resentment flush against her chest, a shield to protect herself against any further invasions. But something eases, just a little, knowing that Chase hadn't been in on it.
"I also misunderstood the nature of your relationship with my brother." A delicate pause. "While it may not be a… typical arrangement, I would welcome you as family. You both have my best wishes."
Her face prickles with cold, then a flush of anger heats her cheeks. At least her skin is too dark to show it. "You—" she chokes. "That's private, you son of a—"
"If you wish to be technical, I have no parents. Please, you must know I didn't linger on memories that weren't relevant to the answers I sought."
Today her headache is a gnawing companion that bores into her skull just above her left eyebrow. It flares now in time with her rhythmless anger. Kaelyn presses two fingers to the spot and wonders. They'd never bothered her before that day she went into the Fog. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"
"You deserve that much." DiMA's softness doesn't relent under the heat of her baleful expression—and she wishes he would snap back and give her something to latch onto. "We are not so different, you and I. Did you not work from the shadows to secure your victory against the Institute? Have you not made compromises, sacrificed pieces of your better self for your cause?"
"That's different," Kaelyn's shoulders bunch. "That was war. It was for—"
DiMA considers her and she wants to hide from those pearly, inhuman eyes. His expression is wooden, sending a thrill of unease up her spine. "The greater good."
She flinches at the blow. Striking swift and sure, it cleaves through her every justification and excuse to pierce her heart. She's the one who infiltrated the Institute. Snooped around Acadia on multiple occasions. Right now, she's pretending to adhere to a faith that turns her stomach, making a mockery of those who genuinely believe.
But—no. DiMA's morals don't keep his actions in check, don't keep him up at night when he crosses the line.
"Don't you dare—" Catching herself, she chokes back her indignation. Her next words are begrudging, like stones pulled from the mud of a pond. "You can't see a path to peace without removing Tektus. Maybe you're right." With realization comes clarity: appealing to Acadia's lofty ideals may yield better results than demanding he repay his debt to her. "But if he has to die, let him die honestly. Not—like this. We can't jump straight to the nuclear option without even trying to find a peaceful resolution. You have to be better than the Institute, DiMA. And you have to make up for what you've done."
He blinks, expression shifting to something akin to a frown. "I have considered all other options and found they carry higher risks of failure. If our hand is revealed, the Children will burn Acadia and Far Harbor."
Kaelyn takes a tentative step forward, raising a hand not to touch him—no, she doesn't want to be within arm's reach of him—but to implore him. "I don't know what justice is, not anymore, but we can make this right without resorting to another murder. Please. If not for me, then for Nick."
DiMA's gaze lowers. His silence is brief yet weighty. "After Nick said... I did rearrange the data flow in the array. Perhaps it might be possible to generate another solution. Did you have any suggestions after your time with the Children?"
It takes a moment to sink in that her persuasion actually worked, even if her skin crawls under his expectant gaze. "Tektus is as bad to his own people as he is to Far Harbor and Acadia. As long as they believe his is the will of Atom, they'll follow him. Like you said, the Children believe the Fog is holy—a sign they have a right to the island. What you might not know is they also believe in some kind of specter. The Mother of the Fog. They also believe I'm touched by her."
That first day in the Nucleus, Kaelyn answered Tektus's question incorrectly—but he also betrayed one important detail about the Fog.
So now she asks, "Do you have data on the Fog's movements over the years? Could you use that to project how it might naturally recede?"
"Yes," he nods, "yes, I can do that. But I admit I don't completely follow your idea. You plan to use the Fog and this portent of theirs to convince them to stand down?"
"If the Fog recedes seemingly of its own accord, that's a sign from Atom they cannot ignore. If I say the Mother spoke of peace, they might just listen."
Again with that unnerving quasi-frown. "Yes, but the Fog may not recede naturally for years."
"Unless we help it along." Kaelyn arches an eyebrow. "Can you modify the Fog condensers to be easily hidden, maybe planted underground, and set them in strategic places on the island? Around Far Harbor, at least?"
"If even one were discovered, the Children would know of Acadia's hand in this." He sighs at her arch look and relents. "But I can attempt and test the redesign. This will not pacify Tektus—he may grow more desperate."
"Only if Tektus isn't convinced. And in that case, only if he's still High Confessor."
DiMA has no eyebrows to raise, but the look he gives her is inquiring enough.
"I won't kill him, not if I don't have to, but power doesn't suit him. There's enough discontent in the Nucleus that I have a chance. If I can't talk him down—well. The Children deserve better than him."
DiMA nods, hope lightening his shoulders for the first time since Kaelyn stepped into the room. "Then let me begin these projections at once." He turns to his chair, but pauses on the steps. "I know I have no right to ask, but do you intend to tell Nick about the procedure, if you have not already?"
Kaelyn is about to say yes, then stops. Valentine's tentative relationship with his brother has already been strained by DiMA's crimes. If this comes to light, she doesn't know what he'll do. She only knows it will hurt him further, and she won't be responsible for that anymore. "No."
Later. She'll—deal with it later.
"I know I don't have the right, but I... don't want him to know."
"It's for his sake, DiMA. Not yours." Kaelyn turns on her heel and stalks out of the room, leaving DiMA with his head bowed, light reflecting off the bulbs implanted in his back.
Kasumi spends the next week pouring over blueprints and notes with Faraday, eager to finally help the way she knows best. They work late into the night and rise early in the morning to tinker and test their prototype. Derrick, to Kaelyn's surprise and delight, also has a way with logistics that has him pulled onto the team. She doesn't like leaving Kasumi or Derrick alone with Faraday, but can't stand being in the same room as him. For his part, Faraday accepts her cold shoulder in silence and makes a speedy retreat whenever they're forced together.
While she works, Kasumi regales Kaelyn with the story of how the first Fog condensers had been installed. Then-Confessor Martin had raised concerns, but with some careful negotiation, he had accepted that they aren't heretical artifacts. Especially since the Fog covers most of the island, and the condensers carve out a bare minimum of space for the island's other inhabitants. It's a markedly different version to the story whispered in the Nucleus, that paints the condensers as a wicked subversion of Atom's power.
All Kaelyn can do while they work is pace Acadia's confines, taking lengthy detours to avoid passing the clinic, and try to think of anything but the procedure. No distraction can hold her drifting attention, always slipping back, the carrion birds of her mind circling above the corpse of her ease. To think she once felt safe here.
On more occasions than she'd care to admit, she has to retreat to a corner of her little concrete room to ride out the shakes. In these moments she presses her hands to her breastbone, her mouth, and wonders what they dug through in her head. If they saw her with Valentine, did they also see her with Nate? What else have they pawed through? The privacy of her own head is a sanctity she never once thought to question, not even when she and Valentine linked up in the memory pods.
Now—it's all she can do to keep her resolve and stop shaking.
In a way, it's good that she has no immediate catastrophe to deal with; the world feels distant, as if there's a pane of glass separating her from it, and it's hard at times to focus.
One night, Kaelyn slinks outside to the balcony and wraps her arms around herself. Not for warmth. She jumps when the door below creaks open, heart hammering behind her ribs.
"There you are." Valentine halts beside her, far enough away so as to not crowd her. "Was wondering where you sneaked off to."
It should probably sting that he's keeping tabs on her now, but it feels like a distant, petty problem. "Might as well take advantage of the view."
From Acadia's mountainside perch, the uninspiring view of the island below is reduced to barely-visible shapes in the dark—but the sky above is clear, unimpeded by the little lanterns that flicker atop the barricades. Kaelyn and Valentine have stargazed in the past, so as far as excuses go it's even plausible.
Is it the same sky it always was? She looks up to see the crystal-studded carpet of black velvet hanging above her, a far cry from the few-dozen stars she used to be able to count at night. Or does it just look different, returned to the rawness of nature?
Valentine shoves his hands in his pockets and looks up at the milky ripples high above them. "You've been quiet of late. Real quiet. Care to talk?"
It's tempting to confide in him, as she has always been able to, but she can't find the right words. "Nick, can I—have a hug?"
Valentine's gaze cuts to her, sharp in its surprise, and then his arms fold around her. Kaelyn leans against his chest, burying her head in the crook of his neck, and breathes in his unique blend of tobacco and motor oil. One of his hands protects the back of her head, while the other runs up and down her spine. She lets out a long sigh, imagining a thin stream of black sludge being expelled from her body.
If they can stand like this forever, Kaelyn won't mind.
"Tell me it's going to be alright."
His smooth baritone rumbles under her cheek. "'S all going to work out in the end, doll. You'll see."
She closes her eyes. "I thought leaving the Commonwealth would make things better. Get some distance from… from everything. But with all that's going on here, I think I'm ready to go home."
"You and me both, doll. You and me both."
When Kaelyn scrounges the will to pull away, Valentine's worried gaze flits over her face. Jerking her chin towards the entrance, she retreats back inside, rattling down the stairs. He follows, allowing her this retreat without comment. And just for a moment, she swears she can still feel a steel hand brushing over her back.
As promised, DiMA runs his simulations to determine the most effective—and discreet—locations to place the Fog condensers. His conclusion: there's too much space to clear the entire northern half of the island, and with their resources it's only feasible to clear the immediate vicinity of Far Harbor. This information is relayed by Kasumi; Kaelyn avoids the telescope room as much as possible. While the Children are known to wander the island, they won't stray into the town or its surrounds without cause. The retreat of the Fog with no condensers in sight will, with luck, be enough of a sign to convince the Children.
"If you want to mend fences with Far Harbor," Valentine suggests, "invite them along to install the condensers. They're a mule-headed folk who resent charity. Don't do it for them—do it with them."
"Yes," DiMA says, slow, considering. "Yes, I think that is wise."
"It isn't enough to make up for what you've done," Valentine warns, "but it's a start."
Finally, four days later, Kasumi and Derrick achieve a breakthrough. The day after, Kaelyn and Valentine make the trip to Far Harbor to speak to the settlement. Even though there's a ton of metal and machinery protecting her from the Fog, she keeps a wary eye on it all the same. Valentine makes no mention of the Fog, but she wonders what he's thinking. Under the crunch of their boots and their studious avoidance of eye contact, things are—strained, and she doesn't know how to make it right. So she tucks away the little throbbing hurt with a label marked To Be Dealt With When the Island Isn't About to Explode.
Out of courtesy, Captain Avery is the first they inform of the plan, in private, in full, and she gathers the Harborfolk. They'd debated for many hours whether to tell the Harborfolk about the new condensers in case word gets back to the Children, but Valentine protested more lies and his word seals the matter.
Kaelyn addresses the crowd. "We have a plan to turn back the Fog from Far Harbor's with prototype Fog condensers. Give you more breathing room. There's one condition: you make peace with the Children of Atom."
Allen spits. "No. They'll kill us all if we let let them! And you want us to, what, roll over and give them the chance?"
Kaelyn rounds on him. "You know they say exactly the same thing about you? That you're beasts because you murdered their missionaries."
Under his heavy brows, Allen's gaze sharpens and he flashes his teeth. "He was about to pull a gun. I have the right to defend myself."
"Just like the Children have a right to defend themselves! If you'd rather bathe the island in blood, that's fine. I'll tell DiMA to stop and you can sit on this pier for the rest of your life."
Allen bares his teeth. "You're not— dammit."
Sandra, a woman Kaelyn has had little to do with until now, steps forward to yell, "Don't listen to the mainlanders! My brother knows what we've got to do!"
The Mariner snorts and points her hammer towards the gates. "See the Hull? That's thanks to our mainlanders. They also helped vanquish the Red Death! They've proven themselves to be true friends of Far Harbor! So if this is the price for getting room to stretch our legs, I say we take it."
"These mainlanders have always steered us straight!" Mitch calls, to a nod from Debbie. "My uncle's safe thanks to them."
"Can't even call them mainlanders anymore," Teddy pipes up. "Remember who did the Captain's Dance? You going to listen to Allen's hate-mongering over a plan that's going to help us get off this dock?"
"Mainlanders cleared my farm. Avenged my family!" Cassie Dalton waves a hand. "More than the rest of you ever did for me. The island is waiting for us to slip, so I say we fight back."
There's a ripple in the crowd, and a small head becomes visible. Bertha pushes her way to Kaelyn and Valentine's side. "What's Allen ever really done? Cause trouble. Remember who cleared the lumber mill. This is a chance to take back our island."
Kaelyn gapes at the cascade of support. Valentine, too, is taken aback, his yellow gaze flicking from speaker to speaker.
Allen stares at his fellow Harborfolk, his face slack with surprise. Realizing he's outnumbered, he lifts his hands. "Enough. I'll—back down."
Avery's judgment is a mere formality. "Then it's decided. We accept the offer and in return will have no more trouble with the Children of Atom. Allen, the harbor has spoken. No more trouble with the Children, you hear me?"
Avery watches the dispersing crowd with wry disbelief. She always looks tired these days, her clothes hanging loose on her frame. Purple marks are smeared below her eyes and deep wrinkles have settled around the grooves of her mouth. Then as Mitch slams open the door to The Last Plank and declares a free round for hope, she sighs. "Everyone in Far Harbor and Acadia owes you both dearly. Possibly the Nucleus, too."
Valentine looks back at the spot where the town congregated, humming low in his throat. "Not every day an old synth sees that kind of support."
Despite herself, Kaelyn briefly touches his arm. "You've always been a good man. About time people recognized it."
Longfellow is the first of the Harborfolk to volunteer for the project, putting his intimate familiarity with the island to use. He leads teams of synth volunteers and Harborfolk to install Fog condensers at the spots DiMA marked around the decrepit town and the nearby forest. Tensions run high at first between the two peoples, but the ice is broken when Nazeem slips in a patch of mud and lands on his back, and later Bradley walks into a door frame.
The modifications to the condensers allows them to be placed in surreptitious spots as they do their critical work. These condensers are smaller than their older counterparts, designed to be as unobtrusive as possible. Their technical gibberish transcends Kaelyn's mechanical abilities, but Kasumi's face lights up during her explanation, her tongue practically tripping over itself in a rush to get the words out.
Unlike Kaelyn's original idea, the condensers can't be buried underground. However, with a quieter, more powerful engine, they can sit in a hole that's been dug as long as there's a way for the resulting water to drain away. With a thin mesh to cover the hole and a sprinkling of leaf litter, the condensers are both protected from the elements and invisible to the casual eye. In the town, they are positioned in corners of buildings and concealed with rickety wooden panels. As long as they're placed where a creature is unlikely to meddle with them, they should remain undetected.
Slowly, slowly, the Fog thins. It first recedes from the streets surrounding Far Harbor, slumping to the ground and writhing in thick trails of pearly gray and violet, until at last the skies are clear and the sun touches dew-damp asphalt for the first time this year. Next it curls back into the forest where it diffuses to translucent veils shivering in the air. For now, it's enough.
So it's time to put the second half of the plan in motion. Kaelyn prepares to return to the Nucleus, stocking up on rad-x and radaway, along with two new stealth boys Kasumi repaired and extra ammo.
Valentine finds her the morning she leaves. "I still can't guard your back in the damn sub, so I'll do what I can to help out here."
"Good idea. Just... watch DiMA. If he conjures up another terrible plan, you can temper him."
Kaelyn turns to leave, but Valentine grabs her wrist. A slender bracelet of steel, cold against her skin. Her heart skips a beat, heedless of the unspoken tension between them. When she glances down at their hands, he lets go as if burned.
Valentine says, "Watch your back in there."