Thoughts moved through Lionel's head like the gearshift of a rusted out Corvega. He wasn't thinking so straight, after Mayer had grabbed his bad arm and twisted it around like a bottlecap. The pain was intense―at least, at his shoulder. After his bicep, he couldn't feel anything at all. Fingers no longer responded when he tried to move them.
Fucking great, he thought. All I got left is strength, and now that's gone. He watched Mayer, and growled. "Just fucking kill me," he said.
"Tsk! I'd love to, you walking pile of dog shit, but I simply am not allowed to." He laughed, echoing, "That will be Phaeton's pleasure!"
Lionel just shook his head at that, and stayed put, stuck in the middle of the three soldiers. Celia had left her pack behind, and he picked through it. A few meds, an extra shirt, some ammo. No food. His hand brushed against a piece of metal and he pulled it out, squinting at it. Looked like a palm-sized L-beam, but was too rusted to tell what it might have been. He placed it back into the pack and picked up a needle of med-x.
When he was younger, before the War, he'd worked on all manner of watercraft. Until he met Joey Landis, who offered him the job at the yacht club. The man was an idiot, that was for sure. The stupid was so strong in that family... Lionel laughed to himself. It was a wonder that his grandchildren had survived to live in the wasteland.
The yacht club had been nice on the outside, but the people, hell, even the other employees... Lionel hadn't fit in at all. He expected that was how Celia felt about Stockton, and why he didn't blame her for being upset. But, much like how Celia was ruing the arrival of the soldiers in Stockton, he'd also rued ever taking that job. That day when he'd lost his toes, and the job, he'd sworn off Joey Landis.
Should have extended that to every Landis, he thought, holding the needle in his palm. He'd lost his toes, and gained an addiction. Lost his houseboat and everything that he'd worked for, too.
It seemed so far away, only to be shoved right back into his face. This needle could relieve him of the pain in his side, but had destroyed him in the past. Even thinking about using it―
The Wade kid marched back into camp with Celia and Calhoun. Following them was Sergeant Sawyer, the robot that had injured Celia. Lionel shoved the needle into his pocket. She was at his side in a moment, and gasped. "What happened?"
He didn't reply. She touched his shoulder and he groaned. Goddammit, he thought, leave me alone.
Calhoun shot a glance at Lionel and then looked at each of the soldiers. "Mr. Bradley?" he asked.
Bradley stepped forward and gave the little three-fingered salute that reminded Lionel of the Boy Scouts. "I am Bradley, of Paramount Force Sigma."
"Jack Calhoun, mayor of Stockton." He extended a hand.
Figures, Lionel thought. Bunch of good folk, doomed by their damn manners. Bradley ignored the handshake, instead opting to stare at the man.
"Celia tells me you are interested in our power armor?" Calhoun asked.
"Yes," Bradley said, "though I suspect she may have worded it differently."
Calhoun considered the soldier for a moment. "We have no use for it," he said. "I see no reason why I cannot give you the armor."
"That is good to hear," Bradley replied. " Because it doesn't belong to you."
Calhoun smiled, baring big white teeth in his brown face. "Mr. Bradley, I would love to have you for a drink," he said, friendlier than Lionel would have expected. "Would you and your men care to join us, in Stockton?"
Bradley indicated that they would. Calhoun shook his hand, finally, and promised no harm would come to the soldiers. Lionel couldn't believe the audacity of the former Overseer.
When they stood to travel, Celia offered him her shoulder again. This time, Lionel took it.
She was furious at that tall bastard. Celia escorted Lionel to Dr. Boyer's clinic, followed by Mayer and Angus, to be treated. When Ida shook her head and sighed at the amount of damage Lionel's arm had sustained, Celia fixed Mayer with the meanest glare she could muster.
He only laughed at her, the sound ringing in the filter systems of his power helmet.
"I'm not a ghoul doctor," Ida said, rubbing her eye. "What do you think, Lionel?"
"Cut it off," he said, casually. Ida and Celia started in surprise.
The nurse-turned-doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to call in Jen," she said.
"No," Celia said. "You can do it, Ida." She didn't want Jen coming to Stockton. Lilian would certainly come with her, and might hit the ceiling when she found out what had happened. And the soldiers were not very friendly toward ghouls...
"I've never performed an amputation before," Ida said. "Much rather have someone experienced to help."
"It's halfway there," Lionel said. "Just saw through it." His voice was firm.
Ida sighed. "Very well! If you have any lingering effects, you can't blame me." She offered him pain meds, and he refused again. Celia wondered why, if it was a ghoul issue or if he just didn't want it.
The group moved into the operating room. Ida activated the clinic's Mister Handy.
Lionel cracked his neck, rolled up his sleeve, and made himself comfortable on the gurney. Ida controlled the Handy's saw with the console. Despite Mike's best efforts, it was locked out of it's automatic routines, and would stay that way.
"Celia, hold him down," Ida said, and moved the Mister Handy into position. Celia reached over Lionel, put one hand on his shoulder, and leaned onto him. He grunted in pain. She fought back a feeling of fear, and brushed her other hand against his right arm.
"You ready?" Ida asked.
Lionel closed his eyes, grasped Celia's hand with his, and said, "Yeah."
His face contorted as Ida cut through the flesh above the break. Celia choked back a wince and kept the pressure on his shoulder. She felt regret for causing him to lose his arm, through her foolishness.
Ida switched off the saw after a minute, and knocked away the ghoul's arm. She bandaged what she could, quickly, and told him it would have to be done properly at a later point. Lionel kept his mouth shut tight and didn't open his eyes, nodding.
Celia tried to remove her hand from his, but he had a grip on her that she couldn't get out of. She pried back his fingers, silently. Mayer laughed again, and Celia lost her temper.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she yelled, and stomped over to him, thumping his chest plate with the side of her hand.
Angus elbowed Mayer, made a jerking motion with his head. Mayer grabbed Celia's arm, and dragged her into the main room of the clinic, slamming the operating room door behind him. She yelped, and tried to escape his grasp.
Mayer pulled her to the desk and let her go, unlatching his helmet. She rubbed her wrist, which was already sore from the cuffs, and glared at him. Her expression moved to nervous shock when he removed his helmet.
Whoa! she thought. Mayer was extremely handsome―pretty boy, Lionel had said, and she knew he'd meant it. A chiseled jaw, defined nose, soft blue eyes and blond stubble greeted her. Mayer grinned at her face. She could only stare.
"I think that you do not fully understand the problem," he said, the grin not leaving his face. "I'm more than willing to explain to you."
"Talk, then," she said, curtly.
Mayer leaned on the desk, sitting on the edge. His face level with hers, he said, "People in Detroit, who turn into that," and he pointed at the O.R. door, "are brought before the High Ferrule at the Temple of Solomon, where they are judged. It is an honorable thing to happen to oneself."
"And that's your boss," she stated. "This High Ferrule."
Mayer laughed. Celia decided it was less creepy when he didn't have the helmet on, but still unpleasant. "He's... well, the High Ferrule is what one would call a moral leader. Sigma is ordered by Paramount, and Paramount works together with the High Ferrule."
She shook her head. People would do anything survive, she supposed. Whatever this ridiculous religious system was, it must be successful.
"This is the important bit, though." Mayer raised a hand, palm facing her. "When a ghoul is judged worthy, he or she becomes exalted, and is placed into the Temple of Solomon. They will never feel pain, never go hungry, never worry ever again." He smiled at some internal thought, and she raised an eyebrow.
"Exalted," she said, and crossed her arms.
"Yes," he said, brightly. His eyes crinkled at her. She willed her heart not to skip a beat.
"And the others?"
Mayer sighed, then, and a darker look came over his face. "Those who are judged defiled..."
"How is Lionel defiled?" she asked, interrupting. "He's one of the best people I've ever met!"
"Any ghoul who doesn't follow the teachings is defiled," Mayer said, giving her a critical look.
"That's dumb," she said, mulishly.
"I didn't write the teachings," he replied. His expression didn't change. He looked her up and down, making her uncomfortable. "Any defiled who 'associates' with the rest of us, is automatically subject to execution."
A sharp feeling ran up her spine, and she stood straighter, blood pooling in her cheeks. "Lionel is a friend!" she hissed. "Nothing else!"
"Good," Mayer said, and stood up. He grabbed her and ran a hand along her hips, pulling her to him. "You're too cute to waste on that trash."
Celia shrieked, angrily, and pushed away from him, but he held her firm, grabbing the back of her head by her hair and forcing her to look him in the eyes. He released her with a push and she tumbled to the floor, landing on her knees. The acetylene striker fell out of her pocket.
"I think, with some teaching, you would make a decent woman," Mayer said, laughing, and put his helmet onto his head. The door to the O.R. opened, Angus pushing Lionel out in front of him and Ida bringing up the rear.
"What happened here?" Ida asked, sharply, looking at Celia on the floor.
Mayer reattached his helmet and tapped it twice with a knuckle, near the forehead. "Education," he said.
Celia closed her eyes, swallowing the fear and anger and helplessness she felt. She pushed herself up off the floor, brushed off her hands, and stalked out of the clinic without a word.