A disordered life, at least, if discussing an individual, is one characterised by anarchy on the micro level, and anarchy in any form is something I have never been able to stand. So much as some civilians will run their mouths all seven days of the week about wanting unadulterated lawless anarchy, they would be begging for security and order if they were actually given anarchy. They don't need anarchy, nor do they actually want it. They need us. The calendar on my wall is a constant reminder of that fact. It's been hanging there, displaying the month of October 2277 for the last five years and, in a few weeks, it'll finally be accurate.
Two hundred years. In just a few weeks, it'll have been two hundred years since the War. Two hundred years since the Brotherhood was founded. Two hundred years of struggle against the Enclave, and, finally, all but one sect of their 'government' remains. The irony of the knowledge they will, eventually, be completely eradicated is sweet; they declared themselves as the only remains of the United States and, yet, here we are, our Order founded by one of the United States Army's highest ranking officers and still standing two centuries later.
They took us lightly, and they will pay for it. Just as anyone who takes us lightly does.
Tying my hair up into a perfectly neat bun, I snap the elastic around it and stand up. I sweep up my deodorant from my desk, and apply it liberally – one of the few things you cannot do enough or have enough of around here. Satisfied, I commence my morning stretches. Waking up my spine. Straightening out and checking my capacity to bend forwards and backwards. Back bend to handstand. Handstand to back on my feet. Front salto tuck. Another back stretch and, then, I open my wardrobe and take out my standards. Orange and grey shirt, long sleeves, clips and hook points at the shoulders and at the centre of the chest to attach to during operations which may require climbing up or descending down buildings or underground systems. Next, the orange and grey pants, pockets halfway down each leg in which I always keep several sets of laser cell cartridges. Then, I pull on my dark, leather utility gloves and, finally, after they're on tight, don my thick, scuffed, dark leather combat boots. I turn towards the mirror for one last check to ensure I am dressed properly, and clip my ID badge onto one of the hooks on my shirt. A final dust off, and I exit my quarters, locking up through the retinal scanner.
A spring in my step, I check my watch only to be pleased to see I am well on schedule. It is only when I scan in to enter the upper level of the Citadel's power armour maintenance bays that I slow from my brisk pace and stare at the man removing and hanging up the helmet of his power armour with a smug smile.
"The hell are you wearing that shit eating grin for?" I roll my eyes at my brother as he steps out of his power armour. "You know as well as I do there's a war council meeting in fifteen."
"True, and don't worry, I didn't forget," He laughs, removing his fusion core and putting it away in his toolkit behind his power armour. "Watch closely, and you'll realise I smile because you're my sister, and I laugh because you can't do anything about it."
"Think I would, asshole?" I catch the tablet he throws at me and tuck it under my arm while we walk down the Citadel's hallowed halls to the war room. "Pretty sure mother would curse me from beyond the grave if I tried anything to get rid of you."
"And do what?" He says with a jocular wink. "Make it so you can never find your fusion cores when you need to go out for a long field mission in power armour?"
"Or make someone spill red wine on me every time we all wear our formal whites," I dramatically shudder. "I wanted to start tearing my own hair out the longer it took to try and get the stains out of mine the last time it happened. I've learnt my lesson – never drink red wine while wearing white."
"Any dumbass could've told you that, but glad you learnt it on your own," He snickers. "You're having a moment of growth as person, Sarah-bean."
"Shut up," I sock him in the arm. "Keep calling me by embarrassing childhood nicknames, and I'll dig yours back up from the grave, Will. You'll be lucky if I don't go into the archives and change the name on your ID badge."
"Still being the unbearable little sister?" He says, smacking me upside the head. "Alright, alright," He says when I start laughing. "Probably should recompose ourselves, or dad's going to let Proctor Quinlan bring us up on charges for breach of decorum."
"God forbid," Sharing a knowing look, pausing in front of the doors to the war room, I swipe my ID badge. "Last thing we need is to have any distractions among upper leadership when we're in this deep with the war. I hate to say it, but things, at least recently, feel like they're getting worse again."
The moment I step in front of the retinal scanner, and it matches me to my ID, the doors swing open, and I enter, standing at attention. My father at the head of the table on the other end of the table commands me to stand behind my seat as the others already are doing after I properly acknowledge him. As always, I am to the right of my father and beside Proctor Ingram and her second in command, Scribe Bowditch, both of whom acknowledge me as I acknowledged my father. Across from me, Head Scribe Rothchild gives me the necessary and proper recognition, a short, steady pound of the fist to the chest, as required by the Codex when a superior officer is before you. Beside him, Star Paladin Cross does the same, as do the rest of the war council to my father, me, and to each other as commanded when they enter the room. Though I properly restrain myself, I'm pleased to see Lancer Captain Kells in attendance, a sure sign the development of our newest and most ambitious project is still going well. For as composed as we are required to be, however, I do smile faintly when I see the way William and Paladin Bael look at each other. For such dark times as we are in, bearing witness to the fact two duty hardened soldiers are able to hold love for each other as well as the cause is a beautiful thing, even more so when one knows, as I do, it has only strengthened their drive and sense of duty.
Myself and the rest of the war council turn towards my father, us all still standing at attention, when he officially calls the meeting to order. Then, we take our seats after he takes his and puts us at ease.
"As this project is one which could lead us to the quickest, feasible, and utter defeat of the Enclave, I request, first, your report on its status, Proctor Ingram," My father politely inclines his head towards her before accepting a holotape handed to him by her second in command. "Thank you, Scribe Bowditch. These are the latest test results on Liberty Prime, I presume?"
"Yes, sir," He says. "I shall allow Proctor Ingram to give the detailed summation."
Ingram nods. "In short, as Scribe Bowditch indicated, those are the results from our tests on Prime from the entirety of the months of July and August. The tests we ran were much less successful than we had hoped considering the redesigns we drafted at the start of the year and began to implement shortly thereafter. The central issue appears to be with Prime's ability to remain powered for more than a minute before the fuse blows out. We are putting construction and work on Prime on hold for the time being, as we can't afford to risk having any severe accidents which would further delay Prime's completion or negatively impact the war effort by injuring or killing any of our personnel."
"Understood. I was afraid it would come to this," My father frowns. "Though I have had reservations about doing so, we have had issues with Prime for the past three years and I no longer can justify not giving the order. As such, I am ordering you, Scribe Bowditch, Proctor Quinlan, Scribe Jameson, Proctor Teagan, and Scribe Peabody to prepare some of our lower ranking Brothers and Sisters to identify potential civilian projects and, with them, civilians whom themselves may be capable of strengthening our ranks, whether it be by filling gaps in our personnel or in their capacity to speed along our critical weapons projects, Prime included, though, I will stress again, Prime above all other projects we are working on must remain an absolute secret."
"I have updated the classifications of each part of the Project in our central database," Ingram says. "This project was always marked top secret, but I have added additional markers under that classification to ensure no one outside of the war council can access any information to it. We have kept all of our Scribes and Knights working on the project in the dark, as well. Prime is on the strictest need to know basis, as you requested, Elder."
"Yes, and I expect you'll keep it that way," My father orders. "Now, Proctor, give us your monthly report for your Order."
"The Order Of The Shield has made great progress on refining and bettering our power armour – both those built by us and those we have collected from old military sites over the years, as well as some more recent acquisitions of power armour from the Enclave," Ingram reports. "For the status of Liberty Prime, I'll hand the report on that off to Scribe Bowditch."
"We have managed to acquire additional parts and construction materials from the former Washington Dulles International Airport," Bowditch dutifully continues. "We recently found a great deal of scrap we hadn't known existed until two or three weeks ago when we finally began excavations of where our maps indicated a parking garage had once stood. Nearly two hundred years later, and we still are making new discoveries on the site. We have also improved our defences, and the Enclave have not been near the site since 2115."
"We have also successfully reverse engineered the Enclave's advanced helicopters," Ingram notes. "In our initial field tests, also on the site of the former airport, we have been able to fly them quickly and securely with only a few minor issues with ensuring their security and safety. We're hoping to put these into the field to expand our defencive capabilities at the Citadel and the former airport by the end of October or early November."
"I'm quite impressed, Proctor, Scribe," My father says with a hint of a smile. "Training pilots will become crucial after they are operational, but I will leave the responsibility for pilot training to Lancer Captain Kells and his direct subordinates, especially as we will need to make adjustments to the Prydwen to allow those helicopters to safely dock onto the ship."
"Yes, sir," Kells says with a respectful nod. "I will brief my team as soon as possible."
"Good," My father turns to Proctor Teagan and Scribe Peabody. "What's the status of the projects headed by the Order Of The Sword? How have the new laser weapons been working? I assume their efficiency has improved."
"They have," Teagan proudly replies. "Our ranged weapons have also gotten better, and we were able to shoot down some of the Enclave's helicopters from substantial distance. Our new grenades are more effective, as well."
"Additionally, we have improved our combat training regimes," Peabody says with a nod and a shared look with Teagan. "Hand to hand combat training, including with knives, metal knuckles, and mixed martial arts have improved reaction times significantly. As for ranged weapons training, we've been focusing on the technical side of firearm skills, specifically where it concerns aim and versatility across different models and calibres of firearms."
"In the field, our soldiers have been quite effective these past few months," Teagan notes. "Our operations have taken out several outposts of the Enclave's in the former Capital and Maryland. As has been the case for the past fifty years, we've also kept them out of Virginia, with the farthest they have ever gotten being in small parts of former Arlington County. So far as I've seen in any of our records, they've never crossed into Loudoun or Fairfax Counties, or, at least, not for a long period of time. Between the Citadel and the former airport, our strongholds in the region are secure and remain well defended."
"Important to note, as well, is the depletion of Enclave strongholds," Peabody says. "They are now down to only one, true stronghold, which is the former Adams Air Force Base."
"Scale up the training regimes if you can without unnecessarily exhausting our soldiers," My father pauses, worry passing over his face. "We need to have as many effective and strong boots on the ground as possible. Now," He looks to Proctor Quinlan. "Have the Order Of The Quill made progress on deciphering the documents we discovered regarding Liberty Prime?"
"Some, yes," Quinlan, always matter of fact, replies. "Most of what we have been analysing and collecting recently have been from those which we've stolen from the Enclave. We have had to scale back those operations, however, in order to avoid detection at all costs."
"Yes, keeping ourselves and our operations close to the chest is critical. So much as I want to continue our espionage operations against the Enclave, I am well aware they have grown all the more dangerous, and are no longer worth the cost," My father sighs. "With that said, I have new orders for all of you. Star Paladin Cross," He begins. "I am updating your orders to be our liaison in Rivet City. If you learn of any civilian projects which could be of use to us, report them to me directly."
"Yes, sir," Cross says, followed by proper acknowledgement. "I will begin right away."
"Ad Victoriam, Star Paladin," My father says, dismissing her. "Head Scribe Rothchild," He says. "I am ordering you to coordinate the efforts of all three Orders for maximum efficiency and output. Proctor Ingram and Scribe Bowditch, your orders are to continue putting the majority of your efforts towards the completion of Liberty Prime, and to maintain and strengthen our defences here at the Citadel and at the former airport. Proctor Teagan and Scribe Peabody, your orders remain to strengthen, improve, and document the results of our training regimes and weapons projects. Proctor Quinlan and Scribe Jameson, your orders are to cease espionage operations and return to your usual work."
My father, soon, dismisses them too. "Knight Captain Cade," He says, eyeing him closely. "I am ordering you to continue your work as our highest ranked medical professional, but also to prepare to train any civilians who could be useful to us as medical students or professionals."
"Duly noted," Cade says, standing up and giving my father a bow. "I shall return to my work immediately. Ad Victoriam, Elder Lyons."
"Ad Victoriam, Knight Captain," My father waits until he has left before standing up to address those of us left. "Paladin Bael, Paladin Krieg, I am ordering you to manage our field operations as closely as possible, and to continue training the new recruits under your charges. Paladin Bael – you are also to remain as the highest ranked guard of the Citadel, monitoring and ensuring no one goes in or out without being documented by the Knights and Initiates under your charge."
"I shall do so immediately," Bael smiles at my brother when he feels certain my father isn't looking, and the smile William gives him in return is one of the brightest I've seen from him in a long time. The two of them, truly, are well suited for each other. "Ad Victoriam, Elder."
"As Paladin Bael said, yes," Krieg says. "Ad Victoriam."
My father nods, and watches them closely as they leave the war room. Brotherhood Strategic Command is what it used to be called. For now, war room is more appropriate and, importantly, more accurate. A minute passes in silence but, soon enough, our father turns to myself and William.
"I ought to say, first, I am proud of the work both of you have done in the past few months," He smiles. "I could not have hoped to raise more loyal, intelligent, and capable children. If your mother were still here, I am certain she would say the same. I am also proud of how calmly the two of you have handled her passing. It was far from easy, I can say so more than anybody, but neither of you ever lost your drive and passion for serving the people as members of the Brotherhood."
"Thank you, father," I reply with a restrained smile, aware it would not do to grin as though I were a child. "It's quite nice to hear such praise."
"I don't dole it out often, but the two of you deserve to hear it from me every now and then," He turns to William. "It has done my heart good to see your and Marcus' relationship grow these past two years. Truly, Paladin Bael could not be a better match for you."
"I'm glad you feel the same as us, then," William replies with a faint smirk. "I would have found a way to badger you into seeing it our way eventually."
"I have no doubt about it," He chuckles. "I'll see the both of you at dinner, tonight. For now, get back to work. I have quite a bit of report analysis to do."
"Of course, father," I say, shaking his hand after William does. "Do you have any directives for me regarding Arthur's training?"
"Seeing as he's doing quite well, I am satisfied with your work with him for the time being," He says, a solemn look taking over his face. "He's perhaps the most resilient ten year old I have ever seen. He truly is a Maxson, through and through."
"He is," I say, stretching out my arms. "He's already memorised the Codex, after starting the process only three months ago. He's got a brilliant mind. Do you think – one day, after you – he may become Elder?"
"I sincerely hope so," My father says with a half raised eyebrow. "By the time he turns twenty, I believe he'll be ready. The time could come sooner if the other Elders believe him worthy. But you needn't worry about who will follow in my footsteps, dear daughter. You have in every way surpassed my expectations time and time again. I could not be more proud of you, and I could not think more highly of you and your brother. Truly, you're both wonderful leaders in your own right. And your Pride? So many in our order look up to you, to Lyons' Pride, to all we have achieved."
"I do my best," I hesitate. "I only hope my efforts to train Arthur as a solider don't overshadow my efforts to nurture him as a person. I don't want him to fear me."
"He doesn't," My father says, reassuringly setting his hands to my shoulders. "The only people who fear you are the Brotherhood's enemies, as they should, because you have become quite the formidable force, and are driven by true purpose. You are a true Brotherhood soldier, Sarah, and I expect you won't forget it."
I nod but can't help smiling. "Don't worry, father," I promise. "I won't let you down."