CHAPTER 13
Cards
"Outstanding work at Fort Strong, soldier." Maxson stood with his hands behind his back, the leather from his battlecoat taut across his shoulders.
His gaze flicked to her abdomen before returning to her face.
Grey didn't bother to shield her wounds. She could have feigned embarrassment or made some feeble attempt at covering her bruised ribs and the bloodied gauze. But that would've been a lie not worth weaving. She wanted Maxson to see the damage done. Wanted him to see that she'd bled for the mission. His mission. After all, what was loyalty if not the willingness to sacrifice one's own flesh for another's ideals? That's what her husband had done. What so many of his friends had done. What Walsh had done. She doubted the game had changed that much since her time.
She stood to attention, arms crossed against the small of her back. "What happens at Fort Strong now?"
"Paladin Danse is supervising the transfer of the Fat Man warheads to the Prydwen. They'll provide quite an edge to our arsenal. I've also ordered a detachment to occupy the location and use it as a staging area to protect the eastern side of the airport."
His brow lifted, mouth no longer downcast. His version of a smile, Grey assumed.
"All-in-all," Maxson said, "you handed us quite a valuable location."
Grey raised her chin. "It was an honour fighting for the Brotherhood."
"I'm glad you feel that way, because our mission here has only just begun."
He took a step toward her and held out his hand. "In order to bring the Institute to its knees, we need to use every weapon at our disposal. I try to supply my soldiers with the best. That's why I'm giving you these."
He opened his fist to reveal what looked like a miniature flare. Grey gently lifted it from his palm. It was incredibly light, but she knew enough about military tech to not have that mislead her.
"Signal grenades can call a Vertibird to your location when you need aerial transport. Simply throw one to the ground and the Vertibird will hone in on the unique electromagnetic smoke it emits."
Great, she thought. More Vertibirds.
"Thank-you, Elder. I'll make good use of them." Another lie.
"I expect that you will," he said, voice a strange mix of soothing tones and authoritative bite.
His mouth was somewhat of a curiosity to her she'd come to realize; the sounds it made, the meaning they held. She'd known many men of position and authority in her twenty-seven years, from Army Generals to State Senators to high-powered CEOs. They all had the same bark and privilege. Even when they veiled their tones in seduction and glibness, it was still there lurking: the expectation that everyone would listen and do their bidding because they were the most goddamn important person in that room. Except she didn't get that with Maxson. His sense of authority was quiet and cold. Distant perhaps, but strangely compelling.
Maybe that was a part of what his men saw, she decided. What inspired their confidence in a boy so young.
The Elder casually turned away, attention returning to the Commonwealth below. In the red hued room, it all but appeared to leer at them, twisted structures bathed in December sunlight.
"Now," he said, "I'm sure you're aware that Fort Strong was simply the first step towards the liberation of the Commonwealth. An even greater task lies ahead.
"By now, you've likely deduced that our arrival in the Commonwealth wasn't coincidental. We're here because of a unique energy reading recorded by Paladin Danse's recon team. According to our Scribes, the reading indicated a level of technology that only the Institute could achieve."
She'd forgotten about the energy readings. They were one of the first things Danse had mentioned to her when they met all those weeks ago. The reason his team had holed up in Cambridge. The reason she'd stumbled into their firefight. And again, it led to the Institute.
She was beginning to wonder if all roads in her life did.
"The moment this information came to light," Maxson continued, "our mission became clear: the Institute and everyone responsible for the creation of the synths must be eliminated, at all costs."
Grey held her tongue.
"To accomplish this goal, we need to locate the Institute's headquarters. I've had our Scribes meticulously searching the Commonwealth but they've come up empty-handed."
Little miracles.
"Where do you want me to start, Elder?"
His eyes met hers in the reflection of the glass. "You seemed to have a vested interest in locating the Institute before we met, so I'm confident you'll travel in the right circles. If you discover a way in, I need you to report it to me immediately. Any questions, Knight?"
He doesn't know, she realized. About Virgil or the Glowing Sea.
Some part of her had suspected that Danse had fed Maxson bits of her story and circumstance. Danse had clearly given the Brotherhood something noting all the mentions of reports and how easily they'd accepted her sponsorship despite her being a relative anomaly. Of all the things for Danse to conceal from his commanding officer though… He'd harboured the one piece of intel Grey had given him that was integral to his mission.
That didn't sit right with her.
It wasn't to say she'd placed the Paladin on some pillar of incorruptibility, but he just didn't seem the type to bend the rules or place his own interests above the flock. Perhaps that was naive of her, but she could typically spot the conniving and the insincere a mile off. All she had to look for were pieces of herself. But she didn't see that in the Paladin. He was like her husband had once been, before Nate had ever met her, when he still believed in something. Before the people he trusted and loved tore him and themselves apart.
Or was she simply seeing what she wanted to see? Fragments of a man she never knew superimposed on the first post-apocalyptic figure that didn't make her feel so goddamn alien. The first person who reminded her of the way things once were, two hundred years ago. Ironic that it was something military that brought her comfort. To be drawn to the remnants of what she so vehemently hated—there was a special fucked up quality to that.
Maybe, she surmised, she was looking for ghosts where they didn't exist. Maybe the Paladin was just as corrupt as everyone else. And that would make him just as dangerous. She fought the smile tugging at her mouth. She could work with that.
She caught the Elder eyeing her and she straightened, bringing herself back to task. Back to the Institute.
"Are there any pre-war records about the Institute that might help us?" she asked.
"Our records indicate that the Institute was born from the remnants of a pre-war educational facility, the Commonwealth Institute of Technology."
She nearly dropped the signal grenade.
He continued, "The ruins of the facility are at the centre of the city, but we've already searched them thoroughly. The location appears to have been abandoned long ago, so it appears that the trail ends there. Anything else, Knight?"
She suddenly remembered how her fingers would trace the calligraphy on Nate's Bachelors of Engineering diploma, nails skimming CIT's blood red seal. Uneasiness settled in. She'd always teased Nate for keeping it hidden away in a box in their closet. He'd say it was just a piece of paper. Paper with meaning, she'd counter. Paper that was his ticket out of the military institution that had all but destroyed their lives.
All roads lead to the Institute, she found herself thinking.
All roads lead to Nate.
"What about those energy readings Paladin Danse's recon team detected?" she asked, needing to focus herself.
"Our Scribes are confident that the energy readings are from Institute technology due to the unusually high frequency, but the source is unknown. We're still detecting them on occasion, but by the time we send a team to investigate, they disappear." He furrowed his brow, looking away. "Just watch your step. I wouldn't be surprised if the energy readings were caused by some type of Institute weapon."
A weapon, maybe, but teleportation was likely the culprit. It would explain the short energy bursts and subsequently abandoned locations. The trick now was to figure out if she needed to tip her hand or keep it close to her chest.
She took a step forward, putting herself close enough to the Elder that he could smell the iodine soaking her skin.
"How much has Danse told you about me?"
Maxson swivelled his head, eyes sharp and questioning. "Excuse me, Knight?"
She took another step, placing herself firmly at his side.
The Elder was like her, she realized, disliking intimacy and any invasion of personal space. Proximity had its uses though, even when that use was to make a man's skin crawl.
"You said I have a 'vested interest' in finding the Institute. Why?"
He bristled. "You do realize you're verging on insubordination, Knight."
"And you're deflecting. I said I want to know why."
She expected him to snap at her, turn on her, loom over her. Men of power always did when pressed into a corner. Anything to exert their dominance, even if it meant divulging the details they wanted to bury deep. The details she wanted.
But instead he sighed, tension all but draining from his face.
She didn't anticipate that.
"I'd like to think I'd be overcautious, too, if I were in your shoes," he said quietly. "Vault in ruins, friends dead… child stolen."
She gave him no reaction. She couldn't. But she nevertheless had her answer: he knew.
"Don't mistake my tone for heartlessness," he all but murmured. "I'm sympathetic to your plight, Knight. And I know my talk of war likely panics you when our enemy harbours something of yours—someone. But you must also understand that I cannot and will not compromise the safety of the Commonwealth and that of my brothers and sisters for one boy. And neither would you if you were in my shoes."
He had no idea what she would or wouldn't do. But let him think he did. Let him think he knew her and had the upper hand.
She set her jaw. "So where does that leave us?"
"Paladin Danse wants you with us on this, and I trust his judgement implicitly. So I want you with us on this. And if that means I allow you to rescue your son before I give the attack order, then so be it. But in return…"
He turned to her, face stern.
"Sir?"
"In return," he said, "you find us our way in. Whatever it takes. And you'll have my word that your son is saved. Understood?"
Grey'd made her promise long ago to save Shaun by whatever means necessary. So she'd easily do as Maxson requested because it wasn't a request he needed to make. She was getting into the Institute one way or another. At least now she'd have the backing of an army. She'd have their resources and their Elder's support. If it wasn't so bittersweet, she almost would have smiled.
"If we're making a deal, then there's a few more details you need to know."
He listened intently as she told him of the Institute operative she'd tracked down and "interrogated" only four days before. She skirted the details as the two-month journey and relational technicalities were just that: details. Maxson was only interested in the facts: who the operative was, what she'd discovered, and who they needed to find. She'd left Dr. Amari and Nick out of her tale for obvious reasons. Better Maxson thought she'd questioned Kellogg at gunpoint at Fort Hagen than the lunacy of what had actually happened in the Memory Den.
"And what did you do with this operative after you finished questioning him?"
"I put a bullet through his skull."
"Good. Still…" The Elder's face clouded, irritation creeping along his jaw. "If the Institute has the capability to teleport its synths, we're in for quite a fight. There must be a way to tap into the teleport signal, and your mysterious lead in the Glowing Sea could provide us with the answer."
"Providing we can find him."
Maxson knit his brow in deliberation. "Even with our numbers, I cannot risk the lives of my men to do a blind search. We risk spreading ourselves too thin, and it would also leave the Prydwen susceptible to attack. We could do an arial scan but—" Something crossed his face. "Is that why…" He trailed off.
"Elder?"
"I think you need to speak with Paladin Danse," he said carefully, face still contemplative. "He submitted a request to reactivate an old op, one that may have been connected to the Glowing Sea, if memory serves."
An old operation? Danse had never mentioned anything about an op when she spilled her guts on the station roof. Had he been concealing intel from her, too? Her pulse quickened.
"In the interim," Maxson said, "if you need any assistance mitigating the radiation in that godforsaken location, speak to Proctor Teagan. I'm certain he'd be willing to help."
Radiation was the least of Grey's worries, but she appreciated the thought.
"Anything else, Elder?"
"No. You're dismissed."
Grey all but vaulted from the command deck and back up the ladder. She ignored the pull of her newly healed skin with each climbed rung. Skin healed, but deception festered. And the more she thought on it, the more irritated she became. That's what she deserved though. That was the transaction cost of blinding placing trust.
She clenched her jaw as fibres tore and blood beaded against her ribs.
She and the Paladin needed to have a little chat.