Lancer Captain Kells escorted Nora to the observation deck – "escorted" being the polite term for the way she was being manhandled. It wasn't a hand on the elbow, would-you-please-come-with-me type maneuver. It wasn't even a firm, stern palm between the shoulder blades kind of thing. Nope. It was a frog march. Definitely a frog march, complete with arm bent behind the back.
To give Kells credit, he didn't otherwise treat her rudely or poorly, with the exception of the drill sergeant-style ass chewing he'd given her prior to "escorting" her to Maxson. That would've been considered conduct unbecoming an officer, and Kells truly was a professional officer. No, he merely deposited her in the middle of the room and swiftly approached Maxson.
The LC spoke quietly and briefly in the Elder's ear, his tall, lean frame all but vibrating with not-so-repressed anger. Immediately, Maxson's eyes widened incredulously then narrowed dangerously. She couldn't blame the guy, honestly. Refusing to carry out two orders in as many days? Grounds for a court martial - or the Brotherhood equivalent, anyway. Nora suppressed an uneasy squirm.
If they had an equivalent. If Maxson didn't summarily decide to throw her off the flight deck.
Kells began talking again, too low and fast for her to make any sense of the words no matter how she cocked her head. Nora watched with guarded attention as Maxson's face suffused with an ominous deep red that quickly subsided. As Kells spoke, the Elder's eyes pinned her in place, drilling deeply enough that she was pretty sure he could see every thought running through her brain.
A pulse of anger warmed her chest, lifting her chin and bolstering her spirits. What did she care? After the absolute shitstorm she'd gone through with Danse yesterday and the morally reprehensible order she'd just been given to infiltrate the Old North Church and take out the Railroad, she had zero fucks left to give.
Just as quickly as it had flared, the anger cooled. Not altogether gone, but layered with logic and a healthy dose of caution. Nora knew she needed to keep a level head - she wasn't out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.
The LC's rapid fire commentary wound to a sudden halt. Maxson clasped his hands behind his back and simply said, "Thank you, Captain. That will be all. Close the door behind you as you leave."
Nora fancied that the resounding bell-like clang of the door sounded like a death knell.
Buckle up. Here we go. Again.
Her inner thoughts were wry, but no amount of preparation or sarcasm could offset the chill that crawled up her spine as Maxson advanced on her with unmistakable intent. He was pissed. Nora carefully blanked her face, straightened her spine, and sucked in her stomach.
Surprisingly enough, instead of coming to a halt directly in front of her as she expected - and braced herself for - he smoothly downshifted and stalked around her left side. He was so light on his feet she could neither hear his footsteps nor feel their vibration on the deck. The hair on the back of her neck rose when he disappeared out of her peripheral vision. If Maxson intended on unsettling her, he'd succeeded, and all without saying a single word. She'd often heard her father speak of command presence. This man had it in spades.
When he emerged back around her other side, he came to a halt directly in front of her and bit off a terse, "Explain yourself."
Nora gauged the expression on his face - lethal - and tempered her response. "I think Captain Kells just advised you of the circumstances. Sir."
His eyes continued to bore into her. "I'd like to hear it from you, Paladin."
This was where it would start to get... sticky. "With all due respect, I was given another order that I cannot and will not execute. My conscience won't allow it."
"I was not aware you were given a decision in the matter. You were ordered to eliminate an enemy faction in a preemptive strike and that order still stands. Your conscience has no bearing on the matter, Paladin Sinclair." Heavy, stinging emphasis was placed on the title.
Paladin. Perhaps Maxson thought the use of her new title would bring her to heel, but he'd chosen to emphasize the wrong word. Eliminating a dangerous nest of super mutants for the Brotherhood was one thing. Rebuilding a giant, nuke-slinging, death robot was another. Targeting and destroying another faction over nothing more than ideological differences?
It was mass murder, and it wasn't gonna happen by her hand.
Maxson was wrong - she did have a say in the matter. Her decision was remarkably easy to make - her career as a soldier in the Brotherhood of Steel had come to an end.
Nora took a deep breath and blew it back out. "Elder Maxson. If you'll recall, one of the first orders you personally gave to me was to take responsibility for the Commonwealth. I'm choosing to do that, but on my own terms. Anything to do with Prime and the destruction of the Institute I will make myself available for. Not as a Paladin, however, but as General of the Minutemen. Consider this my formal resignation from the Brotherhood of Steel."
Relief flooded through her – light, buoyant, effervescent. She was free.
Well, she thought she was free.
"Denied." The word dropped like a stone, sucking the elation out of her and filling the air between them with a suffocating stillness.
Nora watched Maxson warily; if she had hackles, they would be raising. She thought for a moment, considering and weighing different responses, and decided on the direct approach. It had worked in her favor with the Elder on other occasions.
"I signed no paperwork. I agreed to no service commitment. I recited no oath. As such, my verbal resignation holds as much weight as whatever personnel forms or other methods the Brotherhood has chosen to adopt in these instances."
Her head swiveled to follow Maxson as he strode decisively to the door. With a few quick words from the Elder, the Knight stationed directly outside followed him back in.
"What is he doing here?" Nora fought to keep her tone even against the tide of panic that was quickly rising in her chest.
Maxson repositioned himself between Nora and the door and clasped his hands behind his back. "I have reason to believe that you are experiencing a mental breakdown, likely due to the stress of recent events. For this reason, you are being placed under temporary custody pending a full psychiatric evaluation with Knight-Captain Cade."
So he was playing the psych card? Clever of him. Also infuriating, using her PTSD against her. "I am NOT having a breakdown. Bring Cade in here and I'll prove it to you right now."
The Elder shook his head sharply and watched her with hooded eyes. "Negative. Knight-Captain Cade is in surgery and won't be free until later this afternoon. Until you can be safely placed in his care, you will be detained." Maxson gestured to the armored soldier at his side. "Knight, escort Paladin Sinclair to the airport and place her in the brig."
"Yes, sir," came the tinny, obedient reply.
Nora backed away from Elder and Knight. The situation had taken on a very distressing tone - one she'd personally witnessed two centuries earlier, where civilians were "detained" and forced to work on secret projects. Where protestors and rioters were shot on sight. Where power armor was used against United States and Canadian citizens instead of the Chinese.
The lines of Maxson's face and body were austere, and his eyes had changed from superheated to glacial. This was the Maxson she'd been prepared to kill at the bunker before he relented and allowed Danse to live. This was the Maxson she feared. This was the institution that ran the risk of becoming too much like its pre-war counterpart.
Her back butted up against the railing surrounding the windows. Nora's gaze rapidly flicked back and forth between Maxson and the Knight, judging distance and angle and success/fail percentages. The door at Maxson's back was the only way in or out of the command deck. She had two available options: break through the glass and plummet to her death, or make a run for the door and face the possibility of getting shot in the back by the Knight who was slowly advancing on her.
"You can't do this," she hissed defiantly.
Deep inside, she knew Maxson could and would.
She was trapped.
The shock of being imprisoned - for that was what this was called - didn't wear off for a while. Not until after she found herself dutifully secured in the brig by a Knight determined to follow his orders to the letter. The shock and fear and panic were all jumbled together, and each of the emotions spiked up randomly. Injury was added to insult when she found what passed as "the brig" was just a former janitor's closet. It made sense, in a weird, fucked up way. How often did good little Brothers and Sisters find themselves on her end of the stick? Not often, she guessed. It was probably used as more of a drunk tank if anything, for when med bay was too full.
Would Cade give her an honest evaluation or would he go along with whatever Maxson told him? Shit, shit, shit. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest as a wave of claustrophobia swept over her. It was too small in there. Barely bigger than…
Stop it. You're not crazy. Scared shitless, but not crazy. Not anymore.
She needed to change the fear into anger. Head clearing, adrenaline-producing anger, instead of will-sapping, foggy fear. Most occupants of this cell, if it had held any, would've been obedient, meekly awaiting whatever punishment Kells or Maxson doled out.
She raised her chin stubbornly. She was not meek and obedient, she was a resourceful survivor. And this closet was no cryopod, not even close.
Nora took stock. The small room was roughly three feet by five feet. Rusting metal shelves lined the concrete walls from floor to ceiling, and the only illumination came from a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. All she had to keep her company were rotting boxes of Abraxo, moldy mops, and a couple of dented buckets. Just supplies. Hopefully just supplies… Suspiciously, she eyed a large hole towards the bottom of one wall, half hidden behind a shelf. Anything that came crawling out of there was getting a boot to the face.
Nora stood up from the overturned wooden crate she'd found and irritably walked the pace and a half to the door. Time to test the waters again. "It's fucking cold in here. Could I get a blanket or something?" she complained.
The Knight who'd "escorted" her there ignored her request, just as he had the previous ones, and kept his back to her.
Nora pressed her nose against the heavy gauge wire mesh on the door, stuck her tongue out at the back of her provisional jailer, kicked the door, and stomped back to her makeshift seat. She sat down and fiddled with her Pip-Boy, trying to get a specific radio signal and failing at that too. Preston had been working on implementing a two-way radio system, but no luck so far. More working radio antennae across the Commonwealth were needed for that.
Again, her options were extremely limited. She'd either freeze to death, die of boredom, or get eaten by whatever might be living in the wall until Cade could make the time to officially certify she wasn't nuts. If that was actually why she was being "detained" and not some shoddy excuse Maxson was using to force her to bend to his will. The more she thought about it, the more she was starting to doubt she'd get her walking papers, even after the psych eval.
She imagined Maxson twisting an imaginary mustache. "You know too much, my dear. We'll never let you go."
And then the light bulb began to flicker.
Fucking great.
Nora scooted her crate farther away from the hole and leaned forward slightly to watch it. Tiny cracks of light were visible from the outside, and it was definitely big enough for a small molerat to wriggle inside.
Hold on… what's that?
A tiny symbol was scratched into the concrete near the hole, the white of the scratches contrasting with the aged darkness of the rest of the wall. Nora squinted. It looked like... a sun?
Her heart gave a gigantic leap. What had Deacon told her? What had she seen on that chalkboard in the corner of the room underneath the church? A cross meant danger. A plus sign meant an ally was nearby. Square meant cache.
Square meant cache! Ohmyfuckinggod.
Nora sprang to her feet and darted to the door. The Knight was still planted in front of the door, about four feet away. Perfect.
All thoughts of molerats gone, Nora dropped to her knees and crawled over to the wall. She had to duck her head under the bottom shelf of the unit in front of the hole. The position was awkward, but she didn't care one bit. She inserted her hand in the wall, blindly feeling around, until she encountered something that wasn't rubble or rebar.
Yessss! Careful, now…
She gingerly lifted a small satchel out, biting her lip at the soft rattle of the contents. Nora was worried the guard would hear and she froze, ready to chuck the bag back in the hole and tell the guy she dropped a contact lens. She held her breath until her vision started to fade, but no curious and/or suspicious faces appeared in her window. Setting the bag down with hands trembling with anticipation, she loosened the neck of the satchel and peered inside.
Stimpak. Ammo. 10 mm pistol.
She clutched the bag to her chest.
Stealth boy. Fuck you, Arthur Maxson. I'm out.
Nora popped back up and looked out of the window on the door again. She knew exactly what escape route she needed to take - straight out past the shelves and crates of supplies and over the barrier that had been placed in the huge blown out hole in the outside wall. There was one little problem, though. The goddamn Knight was still standing there.
How on earth was she going to sneak by him?
Think, baby.
She didn't have to think. Seemed like she still had that lucky horseshoe shoved up her ass after all.
The unexpected sound of nearby gunfire caused both herself and the Knight to jump in unison. From behind a shelf, Lucia dropped her clipboard, picked up her rifle, and hurried out of sight. Uncertainly, the Knight swiveled his torso towards her, then back towards the gunfire.
Go. Go. Go. Get your ass moving! she silently urged.
Lucia popped back into view, her pretty face twisted with a snarl. "Ferals outside the compound!"
The Knight hesitated no longer. He drew his own rifle and pounded away out of sight.
Nora's left hand dove into her right breast pocket for a bobby pin the same instant her right hand thrust into her thigh pocket for her red-handled screwdriver. The area around the airport was under fairly secure control; directly around Prime doubly so. The sheer number of soldiers present would mean quick extermination of the ferals. She had very little time.
She crouched down and prodded the tumblers, seeking that sweet spot. Nervous sweat dampened her hands, but her streak of luck continued to hold out. The lock was an easy one, clicking open in seconds. Nora took a quick breath and turned the handle, wincing at the faint squeal. She eased the door open and pressed her eye to the crack, peering down the hallway to the left that led to Prime's gantry.
Nobody.
Go.
Stealth boy in hand, Nora slipped out of the door and shut it behind her. She darted forward two rows and crouched behind a large supply crate. Danse's duffel bag was on top of that supply crate, and she didn't intend on leaving without some of the contents. The Knight had almost forced her to leave it onboard the Prydwen, where she'd left it near the flight deck exit in anticipation of accepting her new mission and returning to the listening post right away. She'd pulled the Paladin card and won that round, but lost the next. The Knight had refused to let her bring it with into the closet. He'd also taken Kellogg's pistol from her and left it right next to the duffel. Sloppy, but that was today's military.
Fuck you, buddy. Look what I have back.
She regretted the necessity of leaving the whole bag behind, but it would be too difficult to try to smuggle it out along with herself. Nothing was in there that couldn't be replaced, with the exception of the cigar box that held Danse's mementoes. Nora grasped the tab of the zipper and started to ease it down. The box was right on top of everything else. Thank god she didn't have to open the bag all that far…
There. Got it.
Quickly, she unzipped her uniform and shoved the whole box inside against her stomach. The corners were uncomfortably sharp, but it would have to do for now until she could redistribute the contents. It was time to go. She grabbed her pistol, shoved it in the holster on her leg, and started edging forward towards the exit.
That's when the luck she'd been experiencing took a nosedive. Lucia's quick footsteps marked her imminent return, followed by the heavy thudding footfalls of the Knight. Quickly, Nora scuttled back between the shelves and flipped up the canvas top of the stealth boy. She pressed the little red button, shimmering out of view just as Lucia appeared.
Thirty seconds. She only had thirty seconds. Seven of them were spent waiting for Lucia to round the corner and walk past Nora's still, sweating, frantically praying figure: don't come down this row, don't come down this row. Another five were wasted while the Knight took his sweet ass time doing the same. As soon as the Knight cleared her airspace, Nora began to creep forward towards the hole in the wall, one foot at a time. Her left hand was occupied by the stealth boy, the other held out to the side in an effort to keep her balance.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Nora reached the barrier and wasted another second to look behind her. The Knight was approaching the door of the closet.
Four.
"Fuck! She's gone!"
Three.
Nora jumped to her feet and gracelessly dove over the barrier. She landed poorly on her shoulder when she tucked and rolled, but somehow managed to keep hold of the stealth boy. The cigar box badly gouged her abdomen, forcing the breath out of her lungs with an audible, pained wheeze. She scrambled around an old pile of tires to the right of the hole just as she felt the heavy footsteps of the Knight vibrating the concrete of the wall to at her back.
Two.
One.
Her heart was hammering in her throat and sweat was dripping into her eyes as she crab-walked behind a straggly bush. With a vicious over arm hook, she lobbed the used stealth boy over the top of the bush just as she saw her arm blink back into sight. The stealth boy bounced off one of the extended jetways overhead and fell to the ground, drawing the Knight's attention.
Decoy successfully deployed. Toodles, bitches.
Nora grinned and darted forward to the shoreline. There were plenty of downed jetliners and other vehicles scattered around to hide behind. As soon as she was clear of the airport, she'd scrounge or buy something else to wear and get rid of the bright orange Brotherhood of Steel uniform.
Now she was free.