Chapter 22: A Change of Plans
I knew there was a Brotherhood soldier wrapped around my chest. I knew I was falling with the better part of a ton between the two of us toward Diamond City's fast approaching parking lot. I knew there were likely still other Brotherhood forces in the area. I knew the Brotherhood likely had the Courser chip. I knew my chances of getting back to the UNSC were now an even smaller decimal.
And none of that mattered.
Everything was moving in slow motion as the Vertibird carried Julian away over the broken city. He was right there. All I had to do was reach out-
But I knew that was a lie. It was over, the Brotherhood won.
Dammit...
What if I had been just a little faster, my decision making a little quicker? What if I had taken the time to analyze the situation before diving into the fight? What if I hadn't taken so long to get to the Institute? What if I hadn't waited to take them to Sanctuary? What if I had just killed that bastard Maxson the one time he was stupid enough to meet me in person? What if I had figured out how to dismantle the Brotherhood like I knew I should instead of trying to use them?
Erasing groups like theirs is what I was made to do. Why hadn't I done my job?
I let emotions get in the way of my decision making, compromised what made me the boogeyman for so many Insurrectionists. Why? To make people more comfortable around me?
And Julian is paying for that now.
What am I going to say to Cassandra? To Thomas? What am I supposed to do?
The howl of wind whipping by my helmet snapped my attention back to the asphalt, maybe 15 meters away now. With the Brotherhood soldier still over me, landing on my back with the extra 500 kilos wouldn't be good.
I can't keep the other three safe if I'm injured or dead. I can't rescue Julian either.
My mind sluggishly came back to some semblance of awareness. The bastard that knocked me from the Vertibird still had their arms wrapped around my chest. I didn't have time to extricate myself, but I don't need to. I just need to make sure the soldier lands first.
As we plummeted toward the asphalt, I pulled my left knee as far up as I could and twisted to my right, hard. That sent us into a spin and, just before we hit the ground, I tensed.
The ground met us with a cacophony of thuds and shattering asphalt. That was at least before my hearing checked out. Even though the armored soldier took most of the impact, my head still slammed forward in my helmet hard enough to make my vision flash white. A lance of pain shot through my left leg and I couldn't completely stifle the groan that forced its way passed my clenched jaw. That kind of pain, it wasn't a broken bone, but something bad happened.
Worry about it later.
At the very least the agony in my leg helped keep my head from wandering too far. Thinking about- I couldn't. Despite the yawning chasm in my stomach, everyone was still in danger. I couldn't let the Brotherhood get to them too.
My vision cleared and I noticed that, instead of landing on the soldier like intended, we hadn't rotated far enough. I landed on their chest, but my leg had gotten tangled with theirs. My rifle was crushed. Again. The Brotherhood member's laser rifle was nowhere to be found and the force of the impact had even torn my 10mm handgun from its mag clamp.
The parking lot was empty now save the other two soldiers I'd thrown from the Vertibird. The unarmored one was a smear of blood and bone across the asphalt like someone had run him over with a tank, and the other armored soldier wasn't moving. Neither of them had weapons either. Damn.
With another stifled groan, I got my hands under me and pushed myself to my feet. Weighting my left leg didn't hurt, but the moment I bent my leg to take a step, pain shot from the base of my knee, into my gut. But it didn't give out. That meant nothing was torn or broken, just sprained. Get moving, get some heat in it. A dull persistent ache pulsed through every part of my body. The T-60 armor took the impact, but it's hard shell didn't absorb any shock, I was more concerned with preventing another half ton from landing on me, but falling 40 meters certainly didn't feel good.
Teeth gritted, I began toward the tunnel leading back into the stadium. To an extent, I welcomed the pain. It was a lot easier to focus on that than the Vertibird who's pounding rotors I could still hear behind me. Each concussion hit me like a sledgehammer. A reminder.
Keep moving. Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas still need help.
Keep moving.
Don't stop.
The tail of the VTOL sticking out of Diamond City's northern wall was smoking, but there were no fires I could see. No movement either, a crash like that would probably have killed anyone not wearing a set of T-60, and I hadn't seen anyone in the passenger compartment as it turned toward me.
Every step sent pain into my stomach, and eventually worked its way into my chest. But I'm used to this sort of pain. I'm well acquainted with physical pain. It's much easier to deal with than… whatever else was pounding through my head like a machine gun.
I didn't push the lances shooting through my leg away. I kept them at the center of my attention as I walked down the tunnel, eyes scanning for more potential threats.
Nothing.
No soldiers, no guards, no civilians. Hell, I didn't even hear anything in the city.
Wait.
With a thought, I pulled my suit diagnostics up.
… No, no new notifications. My audio wasn't damaged.
Does that mean more Brotherhood soldiers are waiting in the city to ambush me?
I stopped a half dozen meters from the end of the tunnel. Nothing directly ahead of me in the field of crops, or in the collection of ramshackle cabins beyond that. I couldn't see into the stands above me, but if there was anyone lying in wait, they would have had to haul ass to get in position.
The stands… Ramirez and Gwen. They had laser rifles on them. And the MacMillian is still up there.
There wasn't really any clearing my exit without a weapon. I checked the positions I could, but in the end, I stuck my head out of the tunnel and searched for potential threats, hoping I wouldn't get shot.
Still nothing… what the hell is going on? Why would they only dedicate three soldiers to ambush us when they had almost ten more in the city?
The Brotherhood had dedicated the majority of their forces to capturing three kids. Why? Sure, they had us in a phenomenal chokepoint, and they hadn't seen me fight, at least not for keeps. But none of this made any sense.
It was another minute before I got to the two dispatched soldiers and stripped them of their weapons. Vaulting into the stands wasn't the most comfortable thing I'd done on a sprained knee, but far from the worst. Once I retrieved the sniper rifle, I trudged my way back toward the small enclosure Nate and the three-
I swallowed.
Two kids should be hiding.
Dammit. Godammit. How did I let this happen? How did I let the Brotherhood get the drop on me?
The anger that had been roiling at the back of my head surged to the front before I could clamp down on it. Just like when Kleo had ambushed us and Nate almost died, this time it wasn't me that paid for my ineptitude, it was someone else. This time it was a kid who just had his world ripped apart. It was Cassandra and Thomas who I'd let down. I said I never wanted to experience this again, this feeling of… helplessness. Whatever I'd felt watching over Nate, unconscious, recovering from the round that missed his heart by a centimeter, was a drop in the sea of anguish that flooded every corner of my mind.
As I reached the stands over their hiding spot, I dropped over the side of the stadium's seating area and thudded to the ground.
The pain that shot through my leg barely registered.
It took me a moment to find the dilapidated wooden door set in the wall. If anything could be said for them, Diamond City's guards seemed well prepared. Paying them that compliment left a sour taste in my mouth. They'd participated in this ambush. They're just as responsible as the Brotherhood.
I reached for it, but my hand stopped a few centimeters away.
What am I supposed to say? I promised to keep them safe, I promised them the simplest thing. And I failed.
Whatever I need to. Standing out here isn't going to get us anywhere. At some point the people here are going to stop cowering in their scraped together facsimile of a city.
As I pushed my hand through what felt like a brick wall to the door, I wished more than anything the throbbing pain in my leg was severe enough to incapacitate me. I almost smiled mockingly. After everything I've done, I'm ashamed of myself now of all times.
"Coming in", I called as I pulled the door open. The painfully loud shriek as it pivoted on rusty hinges seemed an order of magnitude worse than it had on the way out.
Dim light from the shadowed space beneath the overhanging structures above me streamed through the door into the pitch black room beyond. I know, intellectually, my eyes adjusted to the darkness almost instantly. But I couldn't see the three of them, huddled by the entrance to the service tunnel like their breathing would suggest.
Seemingly without command, my right leg moved forward and I ducked through the door. As soon as my left made contact with the hard dirt floor and I leaned on it, my knee buckled and I had to catch myself before falling to the ground. It didn't hurt… but it felt like the weight of the world had just dropped on my head.
"Wh- are you alright", Nate asked, taking a hesitant step toward me.
I looked up at the smaller man.
Am I alright? No, I'm really fucking far from alright.
"I'm not seriously injured. They-" My voice caught in my throat.
My partner was staring at me, expression a mixture of fear and concern, but realization dawned on his face as his eyes drifted behind me, to the empty doorway. Seeing his shoulders slump, and features melt into anguish… it was almost enough to add to my own frustration and misery.
"They took Julian", I managed to bite out. I pulled my leg out of the way and slumped to the ground.
"What", Cassandra's voice came from the tunnel. "What?"
My head dropped to the ground. Meeting the young girl's gaze as she walked toward us, eyes wide with shock and horror was- how? What am I supposed to say? I've never- saving people has never been my job. Saving people that… I wanted to save, needed to save.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do? There's always something else to do, another tactic I haven't tried yet, a counterpunch, a- something.
What is it?
Cassandra stopped in front of me. All I could see was her tattered boots between my splayed legs.
"Damon, where's Julian?" Her voice was plenty desperate, but there was a hard edge on it, just like the one I'd heard when I first rescued them from Supermutants who were about to make them dessert.
What am I supposed to do?
I finally managed to tear my eyes from the ground between my legs and looked up to meet her gaze. The young girl's face was just as desperate as her voice: blue eyes wide as dinner plates, brimming with tears, mouth set in a hard frown, and lower lip quivering.
"They got away."
My voice sounded dead, even to me. It sounded detached and unfeeling. But that was a lie, something I now knew was a last line of defense from the roiling pain and fury I felt simmering just below the surface. It was the same as what I've used for so many years to bury the attack behind layers of insulation. The mask has broken a few times, especially recently, but it couldn't here.
I also knew I was anything but unfeeling. My facade was the last thing I had though. The only thing I have to hold on to. If I let that fail too, if I let the anguish escape completely, will I ever be able to put it back?
"You- you said-", her voice broke and tears began streaming down her face. "You said you'd save him. You'd said you'd keep us safe."
She didn't sound accusatory, more… resigned, and that may have been worse. My mind took me back to the conversation I had with her a few days ago in the stands, almost directly over where we were now. The look of despondent sadness was the same, except this time it wasn't the fear of losing one of them, it had happened.
And it was my fault.
Thomas walked up beside Cassandra, looking confused.
"Cassandra said you were getting Julian. Where is he?"
"I-" my voice hitched again, and I looked at Nate, whose face was still twisted in anguish. He wouldn't be any help here, and why should he be? I'm the one who was supposed to bring them all back.
"They took him."
The young boy's eyes widened, the beginnings of panic taking hold. "What do you mean?"
"I couldn't get him back."
"But- Nate and Cassandra said you could. Where did they go?"
I shook my head. "Back to their ship."
"Are we going there next? Why can't we just go back? Why did they take Julian? Aren't they our friends? What's- I don't- I don't get it." The words stumbled over themselves as Thomas began crying too.
Cassandra cast one more glance at me before kneeling. She placed her hands on Thomas's shoulders, mouth working open and closed, but no words came. She was probably trying to come up with something to say about how everything was going to be okay, how we'd get Julian back, and how they'd be safe.
But the teenager couldn't.
She's held it together as long as she could, but now... What was left of their family is separated, and none of us know what's going to happen to Julian. I have my guesses, but I've been wrong about everything so far.
And it's my fault.
Eventually she pulled the young boy into a tight hug, and they both burst into sobs.
I'm a SPARTAN, one of the greatest warriors humanity has ever created, and I couldn't save one scared little kid. What the hell am I even doing? What have I done all this fighting and killing for if, when it comes to saving a life, I couldn't?
I watched the two of them, hugging and crying in front of me, and it felt like my heart was twisting itself into knots.
It seemed like the four of us could have stayed there like that until the end of time.
But old habits die hard.
Despite everything, after what must have been the better part of 10 minutes, the alarm bells started going off in my head again. We needed to get moving. I don't know if the people here would be brave enough to try their luck, but it wasn't worth the risk. I've already failed once today, I don't need to do it again.
When I looked up at Nate, his face was still a mask of pain and loss I'd suspect was not entirely about Julian. His eyes held the same sort of determination I've seen a few times now.
The smaller man noticed me watching and, through the grimace, he nodded.
We still have to keep these two safe, no matter what. I'd work on a plan for getting Julian back afterwards.
This time, my knee tried to buckle again when I climbed to my feet, a sharp lance of pain stabbing through my leg. The armor did its best to compensate and support. Muscle damage is easier, but there was only so much it could do for a joint.
Nate's eyes stayed locked on me as I rocked from leg to leg, trying to get some blood flowing through my left knee.
What next? What do I do next? This- thinking about the next tactical decision in a combat situation isn't something I've done in a long time. I need to get my head on straight, as hard as it may be. I failed. I couldn't keep them all safe. But now, more than ever, I need to get my head back in the game. My only chance to make up for this is to get Cassandra, Thomas, and Nate to safety. Once they're out of danger… the Brotherhood are going to learn what it means to be hunted.
How long has it been since the attack ended? 15 minutes? No doubt the guard would be poking around by now. It wouldn't be a surprise if they had someone watching the action, in which case they'd know what happened, that I'm still alive and armed, probably where we are.
These assholes cooperated with the Brotherhood.
Taking retribution against a small settlement that was under pressure from a much larger, better equipped, and better trained force wouldn't do any good. But it certainly would feel good.
Put it away.
I let out a low sigh. Put it away. Put it away. Mission first. It's always the goddamn mission first.
Whatever.
If they didn't have a spotter watching me, the men in the tunnel would no doubt report where we went, and they'd be waiting for us.
So how to do this? Shooting my way out was untenable. Trying to sneak out would be equally impossible.
If they had someone watching, they'd know I survived a kill box ambush, left six Brotherhood soldiers, four of them in power armor dead, and shot down a Vertibird with a bolt action rifle. The Brotherhood had the drop on me, and they lost a ton of resources. They know coming after me is expensive. So what's the best way to leave? The best way to leave a message? The best way to make sure they never think about doing something like this again?
Walk out the front fucking door, in full view of everyone.
Is that the tactical decision? No. No it isn't. But these people don't know what SPARTANs are.
It's about goddamn time they learned. If I'm going to keep these three safe, I'd need to be as much a deterrent as I am a direct combatant.
And I wanted them to see I could take an ambush against superior numbers and resources, and walk out.
"We need to contact Deacon", I said, my voice exuding a calm into the small enclosure I certainly didn't feel.
Nate looked confused. "Why?"
"Get them somewhere safe. Sanctuary is out of the question now."
"Wait", Cassandra interjected, standing and wiping her face with her sleeve. "We aren't going anywhere until we get Julian back. I'm not running when he's in trouble."
I grimaced. There was nothing either of us could say to convince her. The harsh stare the girl was shooting my way, the hard set in her jaw, and her stiff shoulders said that much. There's no point though. Going after Julian and the Brotherhood right now was suicide. They wouldn't do anything to him; they know how hard I fought to get him back, they know how much an impromptu counterattack cost them. They know they don't want to get involved in a full scale conflict when I have time to prepare, which harming Julian would create, until they have time to reassess and plan.
"We will", Nate said before I could. "But staying here won't get us anywhere. Diamond City cooperated with them to set this all up. If you stay here, we won't be able to go get Julian."
Cassandra didn't like that answer. She rounded on the ex-soldier, eyes furious. "You two promised you'd keep us safe. How am I supposed to trust you now? After this?"
It was a valid criticism. We failed. I failed. But- if I know anything, if I gained one thing from all the training, all the fights, all the injuries, it's how to learn from a failure. Maybe I haven't failed like this before, maybe I haven't failed someone else, but I've failed myself plenty. And I know how to fix failures.
While I thought, and Cassandra continued berating the smaller man, I noticed Thomas. He was staring up at me with large, teary eyes. Eyes that had seen far more than anyone should.
It almost pulled me back into the anguish and pain again. There was something else there though. He wasn't looking at me with anger, or fear, or distrust. What was it?
"We need to go."
Both Nate and Cassandra's heads snapped to me.
"Standing here arguing won't get us anywhere." I locked eyes with the teenager. "I will get Julian back, but it's going to take time. They'll be expecting me to try. We need resources, and you need a safe place to stay. Diamond City isn't it." My gaze switched to the ex-soldier. "Call Deacon. We need to meet."
The smaller man nodded.
"You already made that promise", Cassandra spat.
"I did. And I failed. I don't make a habit of doing it twice." The conviction in my voice didn't reflect what I actually felt. All I know is rescuing Julian is something I need to do. If I'm anything, it's persistent. The Brotherhood would probably have learned that regardless, but now I'm going to make damn sure anyone who survives remembers it.
She didn't look convinced. I couldn't blame her. I still had no plan for dealing with the Brotherhood, and whatever happened, it would be exponentially more difficult now they knew I was hostile.
But that's never stopped me before. It sure as hell won't stop me now.
Nate chose that moment to interject.
"I'll send the message tomorrow morning. That tunnel is asking to be ambushed again, and if there are guards waiting for us, we're in trouble."
"Front door."
He and Cassandra shared a doubletake. "What?"
"They need to know they can't do that again. They need to see we survived an ambush they participated in. They need to see how much it cost the Brotherhood to get, as far as they know… nothing." I winced as I finished, and the sharp glare Cassandra shot me said she was still just as upset. While I never participated in the optics game, I've been privy to plenty of 'negotiations' that involved me (or Fourier's squad) as the alternative. Sometimes hanging something that scares someone over their head can be exceedingly useful.
"And if they decide they want to take that chance?"
I cocked my head at the smaller man. Did he actually think I wouldn't retaliate considering what just happened?
"They won't do it a second time."
"What about us?" The question wasn't accusatory, at least not in the same way it had been in the past.
"Whatever we do at this point carries a massive risk. We don't have a good option, so we take the one that gives us the best return."
"You're thinking them seeing you… in action, along with whatever the Brotherhood told them to make the guards cooperate will intimidate them enough to keep their safeties on."
It wasn't a question but I still nodded. Noise from the city was beginning to make its way through the thin wooden wall. Whatever he decides, we need to move.
The ex-soldier looked back down the dark passage we came from, then at the door behind me, then me. His face was twisted into a grimace once again.
"This is one of your worse ideas, but", he paused, taking a deep breath, "okay."
Thomas was standing beside Cassandra, hugging her right arm as he stared at me, tears still trickling down his face. Seeing that hurt. It wasn't just a reminder I'd failed, it called back memories I still felt were better left untouched.
For her part, the teenager was still glaring at me, fury burning in her eyes, but she didn't protest.
"Stay close."
I turned to the door and took a deep breath.
My confidence wasn't entirely based on sound judgement. I knew part of this idea was my ego talking, and there were probably better options, but something about this situation… I needed to show these people they couldn't fuck with whoever they wanted and get away with it. Both Diamond City and the Brotherhood. This place wasn't on my list, yet, but something else like this could put them there. Better to stop that before it got started. Even if they did, I wouldn't be comfortable putting civilians in the crossfire.
The door swung open with another annoyingly loud screech and I stepped back out into the shaded underside of the city's suspended shacks.
Nothing.
The sounds of movement were certainly coming from ahead of-
That sounds like marching.
That's bad timing.
I glanced over my shoulder at the trio behind me. If things went sideways, this could get ugly.
"Do you know how to use a gun", I asked Cassandra.
Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. I held out Gwen's confiscated laser rifle. She probably wouldn't be very effective in a firefight, but provided she didn't shoot Nate, it would still be a net positive.
She took the weapon and I readied my own an instant before a large group of Diamond City guards emerged from the mess of cobbled together shacks ahead of us. Each had a rifle or shotgun, all of them were held at the low ready.
I placed myself between the approaching, heavily armed group and my charges. My weapon wasn't exactly aimed at them, but it wasn't far off. A quick flex told me my knee wouldn't tolerate too much stress. Too bad, if this turned into a fight, I'd be using it.
13. That's a minuscule contingent of their guard.
"Any closer and I open fire", I called.
The statement looked like it caught them off guard as several halted on the spot, while a few others came to a hesitant stop. There couldn't have been more than a half dozen meters between us. I could very easily turn this into a melee, and in these tight quarters; that's a fight that wouldn't take more than a few seconds.
"Hold on a sec", one of them said. That voice…
The speaker stepped forward. It was hard to tell them apart with their uniform armor but… is that the one who told us about the tunnel?
"We're here to escort you out of the city. Our mayor decided he doesn't want anything more to do with whatever your fight with the Brotherhood is."
You wanted to involve yourselves in the first place. This decision wasn't made until you realized I'm more trouble than you banked on.
To be fair to this guy at least, he made that call long before this 'mayor' it seems.
"Don't make the same mistake again."
The threat hung in the air between city guards and I. They clearly knew what happened, or some of it, because each of them was constantly shifting uncomfortably.
If I was being honest, I almost hoped one of them decided to try their luck. I couldn't lie to myself and say I didn't want to put a laser through at least a few of them. These bastards may not have attacked us, but they were responsible all the same.
"We won't attack you, but you are no longer welcome here", the guard said eventually.
I nodded. That was fine by me.
"We'll escort you out."
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I motioned for the others to follow, and the guards ahead of me backed away toward the center of the city.
The first step was with my left leg. That was a mistake. By now, it had stiffened to the point bending it took my full concentration. As I set my foot down and put weight on it, a sharp stab screamed through my leg so hard it took every ounce of my self control to stifle the groan and maintain a steady stride. I'll be damned if I show these people I'd been injured in the attack.
As they led us back into the twisting masses of dilapidated shacks, another group of guards surrounded us from behind. It wasn't a surprise, but it still set my mind racing, looking for a method to neutralize the threat my body was certain was near. I didn't disagree. The two dozen guards surrounding us spoke to how nervous they were about me. Maybe it was my ego, but I wanted to make sure they felt my presence. I maintained a pace that was just fast enough to be uncomfortable for them, towering over the men in front of me. They weren't in control of this situation, I was.
I could feel their eyes glued to me. Whether it was out of fear, anger, or wariness, I didn't know, and I didn't care. I haven't done anything to these people, and they tried to get me killed. They should consider themselves lucky they have civilians to stand between them and I. They should consider themselves lucky they hadn't done this to a few years younger me.
Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas had taken when I said 'stay close' to heart. They crowded around me, far too near for comfort. It wasn't just that people this close to me were generally enemy combatants, but it limited my options if something happened. Not that I was going to tell them any different. Despite the discomfort, the safest place for them was within arm's reach of me, and if it made them feel more secure, I wouldn't complain.
When we emerged into the market, it was eerily empty. I'd never enjoyed being there, but routines were comfortable, and not just my own. A departure this strange in the lives of civilians was a major red flag. Even if Diamond City hadn't shown the Brotherhood all their cards, Maxson now knew he could strong arm the largest settlement in the area into attacking someone. They'd only grow more bold from there.
Silence persisted as we trudged up the ramp toward the city's main entrance. It wasn't exactly the exit I'd envisioned, but it would serve well enough. These people were concerned enough about me to dedicate a few dozen guards to escorting me out instead of trying to finish the job the Brotherhood started. Unless something changed they wouldn't be trying anything soon.
By the time we reached the parking lot on the south side of Diamond City, my knee was throbbing so bad I could barely walk. It wasn't the pain, the adrenaline had worn off and my leg reached the point it wouldn't respond anymore.
It was impossible to hide, but I continued walking. This was less about image and more about safety; if the Brotherhood was lying in wait, we couldn't stay in the area. The entrance to the Triggermen's hideout wasn't as far away as I'd like, but it would have to work.
X
It was nearly nightfall by the time we reached the small park. Trudging through Boston's remains, climbing over destroyed buildings and piles of debris didn't do my legs any favors.
I was spent, both physically and mentally, when we finally finished clearing the small, four story building we'd settled on as a temporary haven. The smart thing to do would have been to stay on watch through the night, the potential follow up was always a threat.
But I would have been a liability.
Between nursing my leg through the journey, and my mind operating in high gear, I was damn near shaking from exhaustion. Through the walk, I caught Nate shooting my worried glances, but he tried not to let me see. It wouldn't matter if I was injured or not, I still have a job to do.
As soon as I was comfortable the building was safe, I slumped against a wall on the third floor's main room and dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.
Cassandra, more withdrawn that angry at this point, sat against the opposite wall, cradling Thomas's head in her lap.
How had I failed them this bad? How did I screw up this bad?
I played the fight back in my head. Strange, this is the second time I've done this since coming here. Screwing the pooch this many times in a little over a month… how did I let this happen? Again? This was different though, wasn't it? The image of the Vertibird receding from view as I plummeted to the parking lot surged to the front of my mind. That feeling of helplessness, anguish… loss. I wanted to ask what I could have done differently, but there were so many variables, so many possibilities, the answers were endless, and all equally useless.
Sure, I might be better prepared for future engagements, but this has been so far outside of my normal scope, it's almost worthless. So the only case this would help, is if I needed to prevent it from happening again. Well it's too late for that.
How-
Nate knelt in front of me, and the concern on his face pulled me away from my self ridicule.
"How bad is it?"
"What?"
"Your leg."
My- oh.
"Sprained knee. I'll be fine tomorrow."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Tomorrow?"
It wasn't the first time. The joint won't be healed for a week or so, but I'd be good to move on it in the morning.
"Yes."
Nate rummaged through his satchel for a few seconds before pulling out a MedX syringe.
"This will help with the pain and swelling."
Never been a fan of drugs. My mistakes caused this injury, and provided it doesn't put anyone else in more danger, I'm going to suffer through their consequences. A little pain isn't much considering what must be going through Julian's head now.
Even so…
I took the injector and slipped it into a pouch. I didn't plan on taking it, but I've never let ego prevent me from completing a mission, and I wouldn't start now.
The ex-soldier looked like he wanted to say something, probably tell me to use it, but refrained. Instead he sighed and looked over his shoulder at the two children huddled on the other side of the room.
My gaze drifted down to the finger sized hold in his lower left pant leg. "How's your leg?"
With a note of confusion, he met my eyes before realization dawned in the smaller man's face.
"Oh, it's fine now." He winced. "Well, not fine, but I'll be alright."
At least he was being honest. I nodded. "We'll need to be ready to move if necessary."
"I know." He shot another glance at Cassandra and Thomas. "Get some rest. I'll take first watch."
I cocked my head.
"Don't look at me like that. I don't need to know you all that well to see you're exhausted. You won't be much use in a fight with a bum leg and half asleep."
My first instinct was to bristle at the statement. I couldn't be trusted to be effective in a fight?
Yeah. Hell I'd already admitted that to myself. Hearing someone else say it, hearing someone else tell me I wasn't mission capable was… difficult. Even among other SPARTANs, I can't remember a single time anyone questioned my competence. Now Nate, someone I've known for a little over a month, is. And he's right.
That didn't do my conscience any favors. I'd let the Brotherhood capture Julian, and now I can't even be trusted to stay on watch.
Suck it up. That isn't what this is and I know it.
"Alright."
"Good", Nate replied, "if I get shot, you're the first person I'll tell." The smile he wore wasn't his normal, overly enthusiastic grin, and the sarcastic comment was almost as strained as his attempted levity. My mind flashed back to the look of anguish on his face when I told him I failed, then to the stands a few days prior when he said he couldn't- wouldn't let the three of them down. And he hadn't. I had.
Now he's trying to comfort me?
I only nodded in response.
The ex-soldier stood, looking about as stiff as I felt. As he trundled toward the building's street facing wall, I settled myself in for what would undoubtedly be a horrible night's sleep.
Like I had any other type of sleep.
Contrary to what most would think, I rarely sleep with my weapon in hand. Most times, even with years of training and experience, and the reflexes of a SPARTAN, the first few seconds after waking, your brain doesn't function anywhere near well enough to handle a rifle safely. Unnecessary discharges and even friendly fire are far too likely if someone wakes up, panicked, with a firearm in their hands. Circumstances permitting, it's always safer to take a moment to calmly assess the situation. If not, firing a weapon is an even worse idea; my next choice would be moving.
There have certainly been times where I'll sleep with a firearm close by, like the MacMillan while on the Prydwen, but almost never actually in hand.
This time, I absolutely slept with my confiscated laser rifle. It wasn't the smartest thing, considering my current mental state, but there was no way I'd allow any attacker any potential advantage.
Not after that day.
As expected, when exhaustion finally took over and I drifted off into the poor approximation of sleep I've made do with since… if I had to guess, the attack, nothing good was waiting for me.
Another series of images, sounds, and smells from that goddamn day flowed through my mind. I expected more of the same: those horrors were something I'm familiar with, even if they're still excruciating to remember. This time it wasn't my house though. It was my mom, with her deep blue eyes, hazel brown hair and soft face, holding my shoulders whispering 'we have to go back', as we stood in a crowded terminal. It wasn't the memory of her being butchered alive that was seared into my head.
This was so much worse.
What would she think of me now? What I've become because of what would happen to her and the rest of my life a few hours later? What I've done over the past 8 years?
Shit, I couldn't even remember what type of person she was, and here I am presuming to level criticisms at myself for her. How arrogant can I be?
But those eyes held something I couldn't place. It was warm, caring, but tinged with desperation. Was she kind? Was that her worry for me?
My dad had a similar look in his eyes too, and he'd done nothing to hide it. It was so… different from the one I saw in my own every time I happened to see my reflection. What did that mean?
They cared. It means they cared.
More memories flashed by. It was them fighting again, but they weren't being overwhelmed yet. My parents were shouting to others, what I recognize now as rudimentary call outs, firing through windows, covering each other. Everything was frenetic, but they were all entirely focused on what they were doing. They were fighting with everything they, in their limited capacity as non-SPARTANs, had. They were fighting for me. To protect me. And… my sister. And everyone else there who couldn't fight for themselves. They weren't fighting out of anger or for revenge… they were fighting for the people they cared about.
Now more than ever, I wished I was there. Is that what I've been doing for the past 15 years? Have I been trying to find some way to atone for not being able to fight? If I was, like I said before, I would have butchered every one of those Covenant bastards, even if it cost me my life. I would have defended everyone there with every ounce of my anger, my pain.
Watching the mixture of a dozen or so ex-militia members and regular citizens fight with everything they could muster to protect what was important to them, against odds they had to know were impossible to beat…
If they can do that, how can I expect any less from myself? How can I justify all this time I've spent pissed off, distant ,and vengeful? What, am I trying to make up for something I had no control over? Unlike them, I haven't been fighting to protect others, I've been butchering Insurrectionists and Covenant alike because I wasn't what I am now, I couldn't do anything the one time it actually mattered. I couldn't protect them, so I took it out on the rest of the galaxy. Those people in that moment were more courageous than I've ever been.
Then images of the day's ambush began scrolling past my mind's eye.
And they froze. They froze at the moment Julian and I locked eyes as I was tumbling backwards out of the Vertibird. He looked truly terrified. I heard his scream as the image continued forward, taking the young boy out of view. Taking my chance to make good on that one thing I should have been chasing all this time, and glassing it as thoroughly as the Covenant could have.
Without my realizing it.
I had that chance, I finally got the opportunity to do something with all this pain. That's what I've been waiting for, right? I've always known I couldn't go back in time and fix that day. I had my chance… not to make up for it, but to keep someone else from having to.
And I fucked it up. I screwed the pooch. I couldn't do that one thing. Goddammit.
What am I doing?
The images of my parents and neighbors battling the alien conglomerate flashed through my head again. I'm not worthy of their sacrifice. Look at me. I'm a SPARTAN who's spent most of his life going along with whatever the ONI spooks wanted because I didn't care what I did, I just wanted to hurt someone the way the Covenant had hurt me. Yeah, I was just out there for revenge, but that wasn't why I joined the SPARTAN III program in the first place was it? I joined because I wanted to change a past I never could. The next best thing was to ensure someone else didn't have to suffer the same way I have.
Julian… Thomas… Cassandra. They've seen it, been through the same thing, and I know where they could go from here. I'm walking proof of how bad that path can be. I know that isn't the future they want.
And I failed them.
Fury began building as I once again watched the Vertibird soaring away with that young, scared, traumatized little kid while I plummeted to the ground.
I just had to do one thing. Would it have fixed my past? Hell no, but it would have given these kids another chance, another future besides mine, unmarred by hatred, anger, and loneliness.
Other III's had been able to move on. I'd even met a few from my class when we integrated into SPARTAN OPs. They were still III's, but they seemed to be… at peace. At the time, like the prior decade, I'd justified how I felt, saying they couldn't understand.
But they could. Each of them could.
A pang of regret joined the roiling fury. Regret for how I'd treated Fourier, Amanda, and Liam. I was never rude, or unkind, but as with everything else, I'd remained distant. For what? My own self pity? And now look where that's gotten me. I missed the best opportunity I had to pay my parents' sacrifice forward.
I failed.
I didn't fail myself.
Worse than that.
I failed their sacrifice.
I failed them.
A loud crack woke me with a start. What was that?
My eyes careened around the room, searching. Where was the threat? What was the threat? Brotherhood? Gunners again? Supermutants?
They landed on Cassandra and Julian, still huddled across the room from me, both awake and looking startled. They- were staring at me though.
Specifically, they were staring at my lap.
… Oh.
My laser rifle was in about 100 different pieces. Somewhere along the line in my 'sleep', my hands had clamped around the weapon hard enough to crush the boxy rifle's casing. The polymer was now scattered all over me and the floor around me. The grip hadn't fared any better. All that was left was shards that had been pulverized by a gauntleted hand attached to a SPARTAN who couldn't control his own goddamn emotions, let alone keep these people safe.
All in all, between the shattered focus lenses that seemed to have exploded outward, and the crushed grip, the weapon wouldn't have been useful as a club.
I tossed what was left of it away, disgusted.
Wasting resources. Couldn't even get that right.
Nate's footsteps preceded him rushing into the room, his weapon at the ready. After a moment of scanning, he looked at me, confused.
"What happened?"
I struggled to my feet. My knee was stiff, but it didn't hurt. The main issue now was the muscles around it were fatigued from compensating. The armor helped me along, but it would be a little while before I was able to do anything adventurous.
What happened? Same thing that's been happening for the past 15 years: I screwed up.
"I'll take watch." My HUD's clock read almost 0200- wow, I'd been asleep for five hours. Sure as hell didn't seem like it.
As I limped toward the ex-soldier, I felt Cassandra and Thomas's gazes on the side of my head.
"Damon…" Nate slowly slid out of the way. His face a mixture of fear and that same look of concern my parents had…
I stopped beside him and took a deep breath. He was just as worried, just as hurt as I was. He wasn't acting like a petulant child, was he?
Then another thought occurred. I looked down at the smaller man, something new turning at the back of my head. He was doing everything in his power to make it to Shaun. He was doing the same thing for his son my parents did for my sister and I. I'm actually here to help, unlike with my family. I could minimize his risk, but that didn't make what he was doing any less awe-inspiring: he was torn from his own time, dropped into a strange new world, and the only thing he could think of was saving his kid. When we set out, he didn't know who I was, what threats awaited him, or even where to start looking. But that didn't matter, his only objective was to protect Shaun.
On top of that, now he's agreed to help Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian, taking on even more burden at the expense of finding his son sooner rather than later. Not a SPARTAN, not even this world's special operations, just a normal person with nothing but his own conscience and the wherewithal to act on it. Like my parents, he was showing more courage now than I ever have.
I could learn a lot from him.
"I just need some time to think. I'll be alright."
A fraction of the tension in Nate's face melted away. It may have been my imagination, but I think there was even a small smile mixed somewhere with the worry.
He nodded. "I get it… me too."
My partner… my friend pounded the side of a closed fist on my arm before limping his own way over to Cassandra and Thomas.
After a minute or so of lingering in the room, watching the three of them sit in silence, I turned to head toward the front of the building. At that moment, there were only two things on my mind: I'd find some way to rescue Julian, and there was no way I could change the past, so I'd make damn sure this time I'd have no reason to.
X
Deacon's choice in meeting locations was good. The wide open space surrounded by the half crumbled towers that once made up Boston's skylines made it impossible for anyone to sneak into the meeting, but plenty of sniper positions.
The smart thing to do would be to have Nate make contact with Deacon again while I watched for a potential ambush. Sure, he was used to conventional warfare which meant he probably spent a lot of time searching for snipers lying in wait, but that only got you so far. There's a difference between someone who's used to searching for that sniper, and someone who's used to being that sniper.
That isn't what we're doing.
I was standing in the park, next to the sealed entrance to the subway where the Triggermen's hideout was. Oh man my instincts were screaming at me. I put the small concrete structure between myself and the north side of the park, but there were still far too many positions I could be shot from.
Nate was with the two kids positioned at the east end of the street near the top of a six-story building. Or one that now had six floors. We'd traded weapons, considering the large caliber rifle would be much more useful in that position, once I assured him I wouldn't break this one too.
While I may be the best person to identify an enemy ambush, I'm also the one most likely to survive taking a bullet. That alone would act as a deterrent, but provided that didn't work, at least the ex-soldier wouldn't be at risk. Now all I had to do was settle my nerves. I'm normally the one who disrupts meetings like this.
And of course there's the concern the Brotherhood followed us. They lost a lot during that ambush; if I were them, I'd want a second crack.
Or maybe I wanted them to want a second crack.
I pulled my mind away from the attack, or at least as far as I could. The more pressing concern now is how to proceed, and the answer, for now, is the Railroad.
That's what I kept telling myself at least.
The eerie quiet that blanketed the dead city was only matched by the eerie shadows cast by the rising sun over the broken corpses of towers around me. I was getting used to it but still…
My mission clock read 0855. Deacon should be here within the next five minutes. That wasn't soon enough for my nerves. Even with almost half of the potential shooter positions eliminated, there were still far too many to check. Hell, even if there weren't, so many were cast in such deep shadow it wouldn't matter.
Just before my HUD ticked over to 0900, I heard a scuff from the opposite side of the park. I risked a peak around the side of the subway entrance.
It was Deacon. That was some damn good timing, but the familiar tingling in the back of my head someone watching me from… somewhere. Not a surprise, bit my body was still agitated to the point I had to stop my hands from shaking. I didn't know if that was this meeting or… everything else.
"Ah so I get the pleasure of meeting Mr. Apocalypse this time", the Railroad agent said as he trudged across the park toward me. "Don't trust me?"
Against my better judgement, I stepped out from behind the structure. "Yesterday complicated things."
"You got that right." Deacon stopped a dozen meters away. "I knew you were in bed with the Brotherhood, but I didn't think they'd pull that kind of stunt to kill you." He cocked his head. "Who was that they took?"
I didn't bother asking how he knew all that, the man was purposely leading me on, inferring there were no secrets I could keep from them. There's more than one way to play this game.
"Someone important."
"Alright", he replied, holding up his hands, "I get it. So how did the meeting go with Burner?"
"He didn't want to talk with us. Something happened, but he wouldn't say what."
A frown flashed across Deacon's face. "And how did you respond?"
"We left."
The Railroad agent tried to hide the relieved sigh. It didn't work. "So he didn't give you anything?"
I shrugged. "He was nervous the Institute was trying to get whatever intel he has."
"I see." Deacon paused. Those ridiculous sunglasses made it difficult to read what he was thinking. My own ineptitude at social interactions didn't help, but the man had a good poker face. "So how do you propose we continue?"
"That's up to you, we fulfilled our end. You can either uphold yours, or we can see if that sniper you have watching me brought a big enough gun."
"That's an interesting bargain. You're aware your… relationship with the Brotherhood makes working with you much harder. We're already hunted by one extremely powerful organization, we don't need another coming after us."
"You'll have to determine if the risk is worth the reward."
He frowned again. "You aren't very good at this."
"Negotiations aren't my job." I purposely left the rest of that statement unsaid.
"I kinda got that." He paused, clearly deep in thought. It was a simple choice from my perspective: if he didn't want to make me an enemy, and he wanted to gain a significant advantage over the Institute, he'd go along with our original arrangement. If he wanted to take the chance that the Brotherhood is more dangerous than me, he wouldn't.
"Can I ask you one thing?" I nodded. "Your implication about killing me was clear enough, but I'm still a little confused with the 'why'. You have to know killing me wouldn't do you any favors, so what are you so desperate for? It can't just be the Brotherhood. We saw the asskicking you gave them."
He wants to know why I was so desperate? That may have been desperation, but the few times I've truly gone to extremes, it's generally led to much more… violent situations, which much higher bodycounts.
This time I cocked my head. "A small skirmish like that isn't open warfare."
"That's what a desperate you looks like?"
"It depends, but a desperate me doesn't tolerate obstacles if I can remove them." The threat wasn't necessarily directed at him, that one was closer to a warning.
He smiled. "Didn't think I'd get you with that one. Alright, we'll cooperate provided you follow up on our request."
"How so?"
"Provide security while we get in touch with Burner."
The request wasn't a surprise, in fact I'd been expecting it. They were a group of Raiders, provided there was no undue interference, I had no concern over my ability to handle them if need be. If it was up to me, that would have happened yesterday. There was only one condition.
"Agreeable, provided our operation takes priority."
Deacon's eyebrows raised as he studied me.
"You came to us for help. Beggars and choosers and all that. Plus, you lost your bargaining chip when the Brotherhood turned on you."
I'm my own leverage. Something I learned very early on, being privy to some of my handlers' negotiations, is having the biggest gun means you're always operating from a position of power, even if the other person doesn't like it.
"I still have other options." I again left the implication unsaid. "You want the chip as much as we want to get to the Institute. We've accommodated you to this point, I think it's time you return the favor."
"Yeah, yeah", Deacon replied with a nonchalance that set my nerves on edge, "you made your point with the first threat. To be honest, I made the decision after the Brotherhood attacked you. Anyone they'd pull a stunt like that to ambush, is someone I'm interested in. Especially if that person makes them pay for it like that."
I rolled my eyes. This asshole was testing me.
"So getting to the Institute is primary objective?"
He nodded.
Just like that? My experience here so far would suggest it's not going to be that simple. The uncertainty must have come across in my body language because Deacon smiled.
"If you're worried about me double crossing you, I think what you just did to the Brotherhood would be deterrent enough, right?"
"Or information on how to do it better."
"Fair enough, but isn't there a point in every mission you have to decide to trust someone?"
Yes, but that's usually someone who either has something to lose, or something to gain.
Doesn't this guy have both?
And someone who is more trustworthy.
What other choice do I have?
"Agreed", I said begrudgingly.
The Railroad agent's face lit up. "Great! I'm sure Nate is somewhere with that sniper rifle's crosshairs on my head, so let's get him down here and start moving!"
After another moment's hesitation, I waved my left hand.
"What about yours?"
Deacon nodded before twirling a finger. Five minutes later the ex-soldier joined us followed by Cassandra and Thomas. The Railroad sniper emerged from a tower over Deacon's approach. The position was an interesting decision that either betrayed their inexperience, or their competence. She trudged toward us, sniper rifle still in hand, held at the low ready. Her strange, stark white hair caught the sun as she crossed the park, eyes locked on me. She wore a heavy leather jacket that was well armored, but looked unnecessarily heavy, why-
Laser rifles. The long hem and large sleeves had to be for protection against the laser weapons the Institute uses.
It would be useful against the Brotherhood too.
"Come on", Deacon said as she reached us, "don't want to stay out here too long."
I can agree with that.
Our mysterious contact led us on a twisting path through the crumbling, broken city. It was an encouraging sign; the man knew larger groups were easier to track and harder to maneuver, so we never stayed on one street, or in an alley long. We were constantly cutting through buildings, pausing at blind angles to check for tails, and his escort stayed about 50 meters behind us, hoping to catch anyone careless enough to stray between.
The position also gave her the opportunity to provide overwatch for Deacon in case I did something. She kept pace behind us with minimal communication too. These people were good.
My knee wasn't throbbing like it had the day before, and my armor helped get rid of the slight limp that probably should have been there, but it was still irritating. It was irritating my own mistakes had impacted my combat effectiveness.
But that aggravation wasn't much a consideration when- well- a sprained knee will heal.
Eventually, after spending the better part of an hour and a half sneaking around the dead city, through buildings, and even at one point a short section of subway (that put me on edge), we found ourselves standing in front of… I think it's called a church. One that has seen far, far better days. Half of the roof was collapsed, and the walls had holes in them large enough to fit through. Inside was no better, with the benches broken and scattered, the balcony ringing the edge of the interior was just as dilapidated as the building's exterior, and splintered lumber from the roof had fallen across the mess.
Deacon continued forward through the mess. The floor looked about as stable as the rest of the building so I carefully picked my way after him, setting my heavy titanium clad boots as gently as possible on the sickly looking wood. Every step let out a weak groan as the boards flexed under my weight. It certainly wasn't an enjoyable experience with my left knee.
Down a flight of stairs near the back of the main floor, we found ourselves in a basement that looked more like catacombs, with dirt floors, brick walls that were worn smooth, and small enough I almost filled the available space. There was little enough light that I activated my NVS.
And that's how I noticed the odd wear pattern on one of the walls further into the 'basement'.
As he led us down the dark passages, scrapes on the wall to my left in a longer corridor caught my attention. There were three sets, equidistant and parallel. That isn't something that happens naturally.
A second glance told me the edges to those scrapes were sharp. That doesn't necessarily mean they're recent down here, shielded from the elements, but these people are good, much better than the standard fare. Taking a chance this was some sort of trap wasn't something I'd play with. Especially… especially after yesterday.
"Stop", I commanded just before reaching the gouges in the brickwork. As I did, I leveled my borrowed rifle at Deacon's back.
There was a sharp rustling behind me, and I heard the Railroad guard swear.
"Drop your gun!"
"Whoa- hey", Nate said, "everyone calm down-"
"I said drop. Your. Gun."
Deacon turned back to me, a frown drifting across his face.
"No, I'm not going to do that." The ex-soldier cleared his throat. "Damon, what's going on?"
My gaze never left the man in front of me.
"What are these gouges?" I motioned my head to the wall beside me. "They aren't random."
A tense silence fell over the passage and I slipped my finger over the rifle's trigger. These people aren't going to take anything else from me. I'm not dropping this ball twice. What's their play? They want to kill us and take the chip? No, Deacon said they know what happened to the Brotherhood's ambush, and while they might use it as a learning experience, it still didn't make sense to turn another this quickly when they know we'd be wary. So what then?
Eventually the Railroad agent shrugged.
"That's a false wall. We have two people hiding behind it."
"What", I heard Nate say in the same quiet, subdued voice I've heard him use a few times with me. He was just as pissed as I was.
My body coiled, sending a lance of pain shooting through my left, but I didn't care. They are-
"I know you're thinking it was for an ambush, but we aren't here to fight you. They're there as security, that's all."
I didn't relax. I couldn't relax.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?"
"I would like it, yes. We're already at risk to become a target for the Brotherhood, both because we help Synths, and because we're cooperating with you. I don't think I need to explain why we wouldn't also want you as an enemy."
Is that so?
A glance back over my shoulder told me Nate was face to face with the other Railroad member, the kids between us. I didn't have to see his face to know he was as tense, and nervous, as I was.
Turning back to the agent, I motioned with my rifle to the wall beside me.
"Bring them out."
Deacon hesitated again, but before I could make my mind up to do anything else, he nodded.
"Pam, open the door."
I edged to the side as the sound of brick scraping over brick filled the narrow tunnel-
Adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream as the section of wall slid aside to reveal a man dressed almost identically to the woman behind me and… an Assaultron.
Kleo?
No, the head isn't right. Kleo's 'faceplate' had four segments, this one was sectioned down the middle with a cutout for two large lenses.
The Railroad has an Assaultron too? They may not have shown me all of their resources, but the Brotherhood didn't have these things, and if Nate's claims about them are accurate, they're a serious piece of equipment.
I was so keyed up, I had to stifle a flinch when Deacon started talking again. "Alright everyone, now we're all in the open, we can talk like regular human beings."
"Dammit Deacon", another, annoyed, female voice came from the far end of the tunnel behind the Railroad agent, "you said you'd play this one by the books."
He turned to the speaker, a woman maybe a centimeter or two taller than him, shoulder length hair, and again dressed in that heavy, armored leather jacket.
"And you said you'd stay hidden until things were sorted out."
She scoffed. "I guess we're both breaking our words."
"Guess so."
The woman stared Deacon down a moment longer before looking up to meet my gaze.
"So you're this supersoldier from another reality I've been hearing about." Her voice sounded appropriately skeptical. It matched her frown.
I nodded.
She waited for a response a few heartbeats longer before continuing. "Your armor doesn't look anything like the power armor we know of, that's at least a point in your favor, and Deacon here seems to buy that story."
Whoever this woman is, she's the boss around here.
"You want our help getting into the Institute. I hope you appreciate how dangerous that is."
"It's hard to when we don't know a goddamn thing about them", Nate called from behind me.
Now is when your sarcasm decides to make an appearance? Really?
The Railroad leader seemed unfazed.
"Right, and you're the one who was frozen in a Vault for 200 years, and had his son kidnapped by them as well."
My partner's short pause betrayed his grief. Now though, I don't think it's just about Shaun.
"Yes."
"I'll be honest, that story is almost as hard to believe."
"Do you want us to lie to you?"
The people around us probably didn't catch the aggression in that question, but I could hear the sharp edge on his voice. I couldn't let this conversation go sideways. We don't have another option to get to the Institute at this point, and they're our best chance to gather the resources necessary to go after Maxson.
"We have the Courser chip", I interjected before she could reply. "We need your help to get to them, you want the chip."
"That's no reason for us to trust you."
I cocked my head. "You seem to know about everything else I do. I'm guessing you know about my fight with the Courser in CIT."
"It's hard not to track your actions. All we need to do is follow the bodies."
It was a fair statement. Outside of a few secrets I was keeping from the Brotherhood, I certainly haven't been trying to engage in any clandestine operations since coming here. With as few resources and little experience as these people have, I don't need to hide. That will change with that cult though.
"So you do know then."
"We know what it looked like."
"Like I told your man, there's nothing I can do to earn your trust now, and there's nothing you can do to earn mine. We each have something the other wants."
Silence settled back over the cramped tunnel. I felt four sets of eyes on me as the Railroad leader pondered the decision I laid at her feet. If I was in her position, the question would be to either accept the deal, which would mean working with us, or reject it, which means trying to kill us if they're as concerned about operational security as they seem. They'd learn very quickly why so many Insurrectionist cells began planning for when I came calling.
And how they all failed.
My rifle's muzzle had slowly migrated to my left while we talked, so it was about a half meter away from the Assaultron's head. They clearly hadn't noticed, which was the purpose of moving so slowly. If they hinted at opening hostilities, that thing, and the man next to it would be dead before any of the others could register what happened. That would leave three targets. I'd hope Nate could handle the one at my six-
"Okay", the Railroad leader said. "We'll play ball."
I nodded. A strange wave of relief washed over me. That was… odd. I was nervous to fight this small group?
Not me.
It dawned on me like a missile strike. I hadn't been nervous for my safety, I was worried about what might happen to the other three in a tight crossfire like this.
A small smile fought its way onto my face. I guess experiences like yesterday can change anything.
X
"You want me", I said slowly, "to walk 30 kilometers to a factory that probably exists, find a long list of rare, sensitive components, and hope they survived 200 years."
"Exactly", 'Tinker Tom', their… resident scientist said without a drop of sarcasm. "While you're doing that, I'll be putting together the parts I have and building our apparatus."
Nate, for his part, was struggling to hold in laughter despite everything. Seeing me in disbelief, or irritated, always seemed to amuse him. I'd have to find some way to pay the aggravating bastard back.
"How long is that going to take?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, probably a week. Or two." He started counting items off on his hand. This is going to test my patience. "We'll have to clear a spot for the base, fabricate the platform, posts, run wiring-" He glanced up at me, his mouth forming a small 'o'. "S-sorry, I talk when I get nervous."
The dark skinned, unkempt man's face was a mask of both excitement and fear. He might have been four or five years older than me at the most. I wouldn't say I felt bad for him, but there was a pang of remorse. He looked like he was about to puke. It wasn't the first time I've seen that reaction, but something about this guy made it… bitter.
That timeline would be difficult with the Brotherhood on my ass now. 30 kilometers to the northeast side of the city, I'd have to go slower to make sure I wasn't followed, and searching for these components wouldn't be quick either. On top of that, my mind was still racing, searching for a strategy to get Julian back. There were plenty of option if my only goal was to dismantle their operational capacity, but a traditional approach would be dangerous for the kid, if they haven't already done anything.
As much as it pained me to admit, I don't have the experience necessary to execute an operation like that with the available resources. The only other time I undertook a hostage rescue, it was as part of Fourier's squad. A Covenant Remnant had taken the leadership of a smaller colony hostage. They wanted the UNSC to turn 'defectors' over in exchange. I could care less what hinge heads did to other hinge heads, but the UNSC wanted to send a message: you don't fuck with our people anymore.
So they dropped a four man squad of SPARTANs in their lap. We coordinated with the local militia, they provided a diversion in the form of openly engaging the Remnant faction. We dropped from a Pelican hovering a few klicks above the target: the colony's central command which was essentially a small office building hardened against bombardment and small arms.
Zulu, our AI support for the operation, estimated the four of us had just over a minute from touch down to fight through a few dozen enemy combatants including everything from Unggoy to Jihralie and Sangheili. The hostages were on the bottom floor in the governor's office. We used classic bang and clear tactics with a nice helping of explosives and high speed entries.
64 seconds, 23 dead Covenant, and 2 floors later, we recovered the hostages, and moved to assist the militia clear out the stragglers. My favorite part was dropping three Covenant lookouts on the roof while we were still hanging under our chutes.
That was the first time I'd operated as part of a team against the clock like that. The coordination and efficiency was… exhilarating.
It was also the first time I felt like I was part of their squad.
But I don't have a militia to run interference now. I don't have a squad of experienced SPARTANs to back me up. Hell, I don't even know where Julian is.
So get back to what I do know: gather resources and intel, plan an operation once I have the necessary info.
I knew better than to ask what the chances were the equipment was there and usable. The answer would probably be something I didn't like.
Then there was the question of leaving Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas here, alone.
What? Am I going to bring them with me?
If I'm going to be gone for 10 plus days, taking the three of them would only make things more difficult.
"Okay", Nate said, "we'll do it."
My eyes shot to the smaller man. We were standing at Tom's workstation tucked into once side of the large cave the Railroad called their base of operations. He'd spent the last three and a half hours painstakingly peeling back the (apparently) incredibly complex anti-intrusion software written into the Courser chip. Now that he had access to… whatever program allowed them to the Molecular Relay, he'd moved into the hardware stage.
Deacon, the leader, Desdemona, and the other member with shocked white hair and the heavily armored jacket, apparently a front line soldier they call 'heavies', named Glory were all nearby.
"We'll find those parts if they're there."
I was uncomfortable enough leaving them here alone, but for Nate to come with me, and leave Cassandra and Thomas completely vulnerable was a no-go.
"You need to-"
The ex-soldier met my gaze. "Stay here and protect Cass and Thomas?"
I nodded.
He glanced at the two who were sitting near the back wall, talking with another Railroad member. "I was there yesterday, when the Brotherhood attacked." He looked back at me, angry. "I was there and I couldn't do a goddamn thing. What am I going to do here? Alone?"
There were a lot of things he could do. And it wasn't only about protecting them, it's making sure they aren't wound up around mysterious strangers after what just happened. I wanted to argue, but something in his eyes stopped me. There wasn't just anger in them, he was silently pleading with me. Can we talk later?
After a moment's hesitation, I offered another subtle nod.
The smaller man's gaze softened and he turned back to the resident scientist.
"We can leave tomorrow. I don't know how long it'll take, but we should be able to give you an update after we get there."
After we get there… The 'there' in question was a pre-war research and production facility that, apparently, worked on prototypes of what would become the Molecular Relay.
We… Despite his pleading, that still sat wrong with me. I sighed as they continued talking details that, frankly, didn't concern me. How we built this thing, where he'd build it, and when it would be done weren't anything I could control. If Nate wanted to talk about whether he went or not in private, that would have to wait until they were done here.
"I'll fill Cassandra in", I interrupted.
The ex-soldier glanced at me and shrugged. He knew I wasn't interested in the rest of the conversation. I know what I need to: where I need to go, and what I need to get when I'm there. The rest is just noise.
As I approached the Railroad member Cassandra had been talking with stared at me, more suspicious than anything else.
"Give us a minute", I said, trying to keep the irritation from seeping into my voice. I'm not frustrated with this guy, and I don't need any more reason for them to distrust me. He stood, hesitantly, staring up at me the whole time.
Once he left, Cassandra finally met my gaze, less anger more… sadness in her eyes now. That hurt. I think I'd have preferred her to be pissed off.
"They figured out how to make the chip work. I need to retrieve equipment."
"So you're just gonna leave. Again."
Well, I guess that shift is only skin deep so far. I couldn't blame her.
"Even though that's how the Brotherhood took Julian."
I was wrong about her not being pissed. And about preferring it. She was right, of course, but what other choice do I have?
"I can't say anything that will make you feel better." I shrugged. "This is the only way I know to get Julian back."
She sighed and looked back at Thomas who was staring at me too. Suddenly, the young girl seemed tired. Very tired. She almost looked the same as she had before we met with Deacon in the city. Cassandra may not have been on the verge of crying this time, but I know that expression: she was doing everything she could to keep herself together.
"How long will it take? For you to get what you need?"
"Don't know. They don't have exact locations so it won't be quick. A week, maybe more."
She took a deep breath. "There are so many questions I want to ask, but I know I wouldn't like the answers."
That almost made me smile. I know the feeling all too well.
"It isn't like I have much choice anyways. Now the Brotherhood is after us", she shot me a glance, "you're the only ones we have."
I- oh. Nate and I are the only ones she has to rely on. Somehow, that was painful to hear.
Another thought struck me. Hard. They have no choice but to go along with whatever Nate and I decide. How would I feel if that were me?
That's an easy answer: I'd hate it. I'd hate feeling that my fate was in someone else's hands, that I have no options but to follow someone else.
And I've been dragging her along without taking that into consideration. Sure, I've talked to her about what we were doing, but that was only to update her on the decisions I made. The closest I've come to asking whether she was comfortable with the course of action I'd decided on was when we talked about going to Sanctuary. She must feel so utterly helpless. I know I would. I did. Tossed around by everyone else, no control over what would happen, just waiting to see who would make the next decision. I guess I'm still in that position to an extent.
"I'm sorry", I said with a shrug, "I don't know what else to do." And wasn't that the truth. I let Julian get captured, and now I'm grasping for straws.
Cassandra's expression melted into confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know how to get Julian back. The best I can come up with is using the Institute for help. If I attack them on my own, they might kill him." I shrugged again. "We can take you to Sanctuary if you want, or if you know of somewhere else you'd rather be. I don't think it would be safe for you in the city."
A moment of relative silence fell over the three of us as the girl squinted at me. Thomas looked confused, like he wasn't sure what was going on, which is fair.
"Do you think it's safe for us here?" she asked eventually.
"As much as anywhere else."
"Okay", she nodded, "we'll stay here then."
I cocked my head. "You're- trusting me? After what happened?"
"Yeah. No one else would have gotten us this far. Without you we'd be-" she shuddered. "Yeah, I'm trusting you."
And that, despite everything, all that had gone wrong, sent a flutter through my chest. It was an odd feeling, like at least a portion of the massive weight bearing down on me had been lifted. I've felt this elation before, but not often.
It made me- well I think the best word I can use to describe it is: happy.
"Thank you."
A/N: Well that's done. This was a difficult chapter to write; the gravity of what happened hit both of our heroes like a battering ram, but they both know, if nothing else, they have to keep moving. Damon is going through a lot of conflicting emotions at the moment (obviously) and Nate is dealing with the realization he has some pretty severe PTSD. The hardest part for me was, if I were in that position, I think everything would feel almost surreal, like I didn't want to acknowledge it happened. That's the sensation I was trying to get across but, as Damon keeps saying, he has a job to do, even now (and even if that 'job' has changed). Everyone here is going through a lot of struggle and growth, and I hope I'm getting that across well. I hoped you enjoyed and make sure to leave a review! Until next time.
Next Chapter: 11/5, The Road to Hell