Old North Church
August the 2nd, 2288
15:19

When they stepped into the underground, mausoleum tunnels, the first thing they noticed was the water pooled all over the floor.

The second were the painted symbols of lanterns seen every so often the deeper they went into the tunnels.

Unsettled, Piper tightened her jacket around herself and began fidgeting with her hat on her head. The cold, damp, and poorly lit tunnels were bad enough on their own, but the nervous excitement of knowing they were hoping to find and contact the rumoured 'Railroad' was clawing at her. Much less bothered, Nick kept a flashlight on, checking every corner they turned to ensure they were still alone. Seeing Nora ahead of them, her hands clenched as she all but ran, however, caused worry to come over him again. Having to go through the memories of someone as wicked, evil, and vile as Kellogg would do a number on anyone, but, with how angry she's been… Struggling not to judge her too harshly for how she had been acting since going through what remained of Kellogg's mind, Nick focused himself on what they were doing. In some ways, things were almost funny or, at least, would have been if the circumstances had been a little better. Should have known you, of all people, would be working with the Railroad, Amari. Suppose it's not a bad thing for you to be able to let them know we're going to be coming to talk to them. Of all the people in the Commonwealth, they probably know the most about the Institute outside of the Institute itself. Hopefully they know something about this Dr. Virgil. Slowing their pace when they turned another corner and reached the end of a long corridor, Piper and Nick reconvened with Nora, pausing just in front of a large set of rings on the wall embossed with an emblem and a few simple words.

The Freedom Trail, Boston.

Her hands tense, Nora stepped over to the marker and began to turn the dial in the pattern Amari had told them would work. R. A. I. L. R. O. A. D. Railroad. Not a great cipher key if your organisation bears the same name. Then again, how many cases were there where it turned out chapters of the Mob were using obvious cipher keys? Too damn many to count, at least, the ones we were taught about in law school. Swearing under her breath when the dial briefly got stuck, Nora closed her eyes briefly to try and calm herself. Turn. Letter. Push. Once, twice, thrice. Once, twice, thrice. Again, once and twice a last time. Pushing the dial in with as much of her body strength as possible, Nora took a step back, and then another when the sound of stone, metal, and brick scraping against itself began reverberating in the mausoleum tunnels. Some dust fell from the ceiling and the walls pushed to the side, creating a space just large enough to walk through. Her hands on her holstered gun just in case, Nora slowly stepped through the entrance, followed by Piper, and, finally, Nick. The walls began creaking back shut behind them, and they briefly turned around, caught off guard. Then, the sound of lights flickering began and the dark room lit up quickly and brightly. Piper swore, covering her eyes with her hands, for a minute. Nick grimaced and took a small step back. Nora let go of her gun and put her hands up in front of her face, trying to give her eyes more time to adjust to the light. It was when they all regained their composure, however, they all took another step back, realising not one but two people were waiting for them and had weapons drawn and pointed at them.

"Now!" A woman said, stepping forward, her gun still pointed at them. "Don't move any closer. You three have gone through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting, but, before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the hell are you?"

"Nora Jacqueline Norwich," Nora irritably said, crossing her arms. "Dr. Amari sent me."

"Nick Valentine," Nick said with a polite tip of his hat. "Been a long time friend of Amari's and, as you can see, am a synth myself."

"Piper Wright," Piper said with an awkward wave, her eyes widening in surprise when another woman stepped into the room. "Hadley?"

Her mother in law took a step back, scrambling to stub out a cigarette and hoping Piper didn't notice.

"Piper?" She said, nervously fidgeting with her glasses and stepping towards the others. "Why am I not surprised you're here?"

A woman holding a large, heavy gun turned to her with a scowl. "Did you," She hissed. "Tell her anything?"

Hadley shook her head. "Do you really think, if I knew my own daughter in law would be here, I wouldn't tell you?"

"She has a point," The first woman said, and the woman with the heavy gun scowled at Hadley but seemed to, begrudgingly, drop the subject. "Seeing as one of you is a synth, one of you is here because of Amari, and one of you is…well," Her eyes narrowly watched them. "I'm Desdemona. The leader of the Railroad. As for you, I still have –"

"Des! Glory! Lay! Seriously? You're having a party?" A man said, sauntering into the room and slickly pulling his sunglasses off his face with a dramatic flourish. "Where was my invitation?"

Desdemona frowned. "Deacon, where have you been?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"It does," She said pointedly. "But we can deal with that later. I need intel."

"I know," He said with a cocky grin, stepping towards Nora. "You know, the Railroad owes you a crate – hell, a truckload – of Nuka Cola for what you did to Kellogg. He was our public enemy number one, even before we'd learnt his fucking name."

Nora eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know I was the one to kill him?"

"A couple of little birdies told me," He replied. "Amari being one of them. Can't give up my other sources, you know how it goes."

"Wait a minute," The woman with the heavy gun said, narrowly watching the man called Deacon. "Is this the woman you've been tracking? The one from the Vault? Wasn't she an ex-lawyer or something?"

"I…" Nora looked between her, Deacon, and Desdemona. "How long have you been keeping tabs on me?"

"Long enough," Desdemona said, lowering her gun. "Long enough to know, for certain, you're not with the Institute. So, tell me – why did you want to meet with us?"

"For a start, you're some of the only people in the Commonwealth who were likely to know much about the Institute," Nora said, waiting for the woman with the heavy gun to, finally, lower her weapon all the way. "For another, I need information on someone who'll be able to get me into the Institute in the first place."

Desdemona raised an eyebrow. "You want into the Institute? Why?"

"Because that Kellogg son of a bitch gave my son to them, when he was a baby," Nora said, her voice wavering. "And I am going to get him back. He…he's probably around ten, now."

"Shit," The woman with the heavy gun said, a hint of sympathy slipping into her voice. "I'm so sorry," She told her. "The Institute takes people, sure, but a kid? That's low, even for them."

"Hence why Amari sent us to find you," Nick said, shaking his head. "The only group of people in the Commonwealth with the moxy to go toe to toe with the Institute."

"I need to know everything I can about them," Nora hesitated, taking a step back when she saw how intently all of them but Hadley were staring at her. "We can tell you what we know. But I…the first thing I need to know is about an Institute scientist. An Institute scientist who left."

"A scientist left the Institute?" Deacon said, turning to the woman with the heavy gun and Desdemona. "We need to know about this, and she killed Kellogg."

Desdemona sighed. "Glory," She said, turning to the woman with the heavy gun. "Tell the others we're bringing some people inside headquarters."

Glory narrowed her eyes, looking over Nora, Nick, and Piper but, after a moment, relented.

"Follow me, now," Desdemona said, holstering her gun and crossing her arms. "You're going to answer our questions, and then we'll answer yours. So – this Institute scientist. Who are they and why did they leave?"

"We're not sure, not about why he left," Nick said, lingering, briefly, while Nora and Piper went ahead. "All we know for sure is his name and where he went."

"Not much to go on," Desdemona noted. "But tell us what you have."

"He was…a biologist for them? Something along those lines," Nora said, shivering a bit as a they began walking through a drafty, tight corridor. "His name is Dr. Brian Virgil, and he went somewhere into the Glowing Sea to hide from the Institute."

"Damn good place to hide," Deacon said, toying with his sunglasses. "I don't even think I'd be willing to risk going there. Although, if anyone could find a way to survive there, it'd definitely be someone from the Institute."

"True," Desdemona warily agreed, pulling out a key as they approached a door. "But, even if you find him, how could he help you get into the Institute? I can't imagine he took anything with him to get him back in if he left and, then, took such drastic action to make them think twice about looking for him."

"If he knew how to get out, he probably knows how to get back in," Piper said, pausing and almost falling down the stairs when Desdemona opened the door. "This is amazing," She breathed, taking in the headquarters in awe nearly the moment they stepped inside. "You guys really know what you're doing."

"Our predecessors spent decades running delicate operations," Desdemona told her, watching Nora closely and locking the door into the crypt. "We've had to learn to do the same and, for our purposes, a large, barely known former crypt works perfectly. Do not let anyone follow you here. Ever," She pointedly added, waving for the three of them to sit down at a small table towards the back of the crypt. "Now, tell me. How does one get into the Institute?"

"This is especially important," Glory warned, casting a dark look at Hadley when she sat down next to her daughter in law. "And, Piper, if you publish a damn word –"

"I'm trying to find out about the Institute and what they're doing," Piper irritably cut in. "How can you think I'd even slightly risk letting the Institute know anything about the only people in the Commonwealth who aren't afraid of them?"

"She wouldn't do anything to put our work on the line," Hadley defiantly said, pushing up her glasses and setting a hand to her daughter in law's shoulder. "And neither would my kids, and neither would Derek."

"She's right," Nick agreed, glancing to Hadley in concern when he saw her slightly uneven, shallow breathing. "As for how one gets into the Institute, what we found out is going to sound ridiculous."

"It will," Nora said, clasping her hands together to stop herself from trembling. "I'm not entirely sure I…" She fell silent. "There are probably other ways in, but the primary way, or, at least, the one we know about is…" She hesitated, feeling embarrassed. "The Institute has some kind of teleporter, and it's how they get people – synths – to and from wherever it is they are. It…I think it dematerialises you one place and rematerialises you in another."

"What?" Desdemona spun on her heel to turn towards Glory, who suddenly looked sick. "Glory, is –"

"I think I know what you're talking about," She said, quiet but body shaking anger entering her voice. "It's called a 'Molecular Relay.'"

"How do you…" Nora frowned. "How do you know that?"

"Because I am a synth," Glory snapped, making no attempt to quell the anger bubbling in her chest. "And they used me as a Courser, a synth to track down and bring back other synths so they could continue to do whatever the fuck it is they do to them. I've been trying for months to figure out what the hell the 'Molecular Relay' is and Tom –" She cut herself off suddenly. "Are you making this up?" She hissed. "Because if not, where the fuck did you learn about this?"

"Amari was able to get us inside Kellogg's memories," Nick calmly put in before Nora, bristling, could snap back or Hadley, furious, could defend the former lawyer. "If you don't believe us, you can ask her. But it's true."

"We will check with Amari, to make sure what you're saying is accurate," Desdemona said, reaching for and taking Glory's hand while the woman tried to calm herself. "But, as unbelievable as it sounds, I have a hard time believing you would go through the trouble to find us to help you just to throw us off track. Especially since you yourself, Nick, are a synth."

"It certainly explained a lot as to why they're so careful not to let us synths remember how to get in and out of the Institute," He said. "Forgive my curiosity," He looked to Glory. "What made you able to remember specific things about the Institute? Or even what you did for them? I don't have any memories before ending up out here…well, memories I formed as a synth, anyways."

"Amari has helped me…get around some of their tricks," Glory coldly replied. "And what do you mean 'memories formed as a synth?'"

"I'm a discarded prototype, as you can see," Nick said, shaking his head. "They put the memories of a pre-War police detective in my head, and then, at some point, tossed me into the dumpster pile. I don't remember anything about the Institute or what it was like inside. All I remember is waking up one day in a garbage heap, a body in tatters and a head full of memories belonging to a man who'd been dead for over a century. Suffice to say, it was a confusing couple of weeks."

"I can only imagine," Desdemona solemnly said. "Well. Thank you for your candour. I suppose we now owe you some answers of our own."

"What do you know about the Institute?" Nora said, uncomfortably looking away when she noticed how closely Glory was watching her. "Or where they are? Are there any other Institute scientists who've also left?"

"As for their location, no, we don't know where they are," Desdemona said, guarded. "We know of a few Institute scientists, none of whom have defected. We'll do what we can to find out more about this Dr. Brian Virgil, but, more than likely, you'll have to go and find him in the Glowing Sea yourself. Broadly speaking, though, we know the Institute is a highly advanced society which frequently takes people into their fold but doesn't let them leave. They have access to technology decades ahead of anything we have access to here – access to technology far more advanced, clearly, than anything before the War, either."

"The only people who are probably on their level technologically are the Brotherhood Of Steel," Deacon said grimly. "But I really wouldn't trust them. They've made it pretty clear they want to control the Commonwealth just as much as the Institute. Maybe more."

"If you're able to find Virgil and get information from him on how to get into the Institute, we will help you," Desdemona promised, sighing when Nora hesitantly nodded. "Getting your son back is important. But we need you to help us too, if we get you in. Do we have a deal?"

Nora swallowed hard. "We do," She said, standing and shaking her hand. "If you find anything out about Virgil or his location in the…in the Glowing Sea, let me know."

"Of course," Hadley said, sympathetically setting her hands on the young woman's shoulders. "If the others decide to not help you, I promise you I will, and I'm sorry I didn't bring you to us right away…no one would have allowed it," She whispered, her voice barely audible even close to Nora's ears. "But, at the end of the day, reuniting you with your family is what matters most…family is more important than freeing synths, it just is."

"Thank you," Nora whispered in reply, hoping it was only she who heard her words, blinking back tears. "I'll get Shaun back. I have to. I'm his mother."

"You will," Hadley quietly promised. "I'll ensure it."

The Prydwen
August the 6th, 2288
12:10

"The good news is, with the new fusion plant we recovered in Annapolis, the Prydwen is running even smoother than we could have ever hoped. The bad news is, for as long as we're going to have to provide background power to Liberty Prime once we get underway with its reconstruction, we're going to have to bump up the reactor efficiency to levels over seventy five percent, which will require more reactor coolant than we currently have access to."

"Reactor coolant isn't the only resource we're lagging on either. We can't ignore the issue any longer. Commonwealth settlements will need to provide aid to the Brotherhood, whether in the realm of being military contractors or providing some requisitions of crops, water, and, potentially, some construction materials."

"Understood. Thank you, Proctor Ingram, Proctor Teagan. We now know what today's meeting will be centred around."

Standing up and pacing in the Prydwen's command deck, Elder Arthur Jonathan Maxson, momentarily, cast his gaze towards the Commonwealth down below. It was a much more lively place than any in his ranks had expected, almost as lively as the Capital Wasteland, even rivalling it in some parts. Diamond City is remarkably similar yet also dissimilar to Rivet City. As for Goodneighbour, a city with a great deal of non feral ghouls is certainly unsettling for some but I won't be changing my orders. A mistake of Lyons' was absolutely stating all ghouls are to be shot on sight. Non ferals are perfectly normal, worth pitying. Turning to face the doors into the command deck, Maxson waved his Lancer Captain in to join the Proctors at the table before taking his seat again himself. Absent was Cade, something which left him uneasy, well aware Cade had been treating far more than just their Brothers and Sisters as they came and went from combat duties, research and security patrols, or special projects. High blood pressure, migraines, shortness of breath. She's been so strained, and whatever can be done must be. We need her health as much as they do. The twins. It's almost unbelievable. All I hope is I'll be able to step up to the task of being their father and the Brotherhood's East Coast Supreme Commander. Uneasily, he tried to focus, his Lancer Captain giving his initial update on the status of personnel and work on the Prydwen. Things were well, and working as they were meant to be. Some setbacks, then, were of little issue and only needed a decisive solution.

"Liberty Prime's parts are now completely accounted for and unloaded off the Prydwen, Kells," Ingram said, her voice breaking past Maxson's jumbled thoughts. "We've moved them into one of old storage buildings a couple hundred yards away from where we're constructing the gantry. All the pieces of him are accounted for, but we've still got a lot of work ahead of us."

"How bad a state is Prime in?" Teagan asked, then regretting it when he saw the look on her face. "The CPU still the issue, or is it something else?"

"Prime's CPU and memory core are still the worst issues facing us when we've tried to power them, at least, for now," Ingram shook her head. "Same as they've been for nearly a decade at this point. The important thing is we got Prime and all of his parts here without damaging them further, and, once we figure out what the hell to do about solving its current issues, we'll be closer and closer to having something to tip the balance when we go toe to toe with the Institute."

"Yes, it will be a powerful equaliser," Quinlan said, taking down a few notes. "The key to everything is getting Liberty Prime operational. I will check again this evening to see if any new technical documents have been recovered by our teams which could aid in the reconstruction of Liberty Prime. Our recon teams have been bringing in all sorts of artefacts and documents, and I have a great deal to sort through. Aside from sorting and passing on anything relevant to Prime, it'll take me years to study all of what we've retrieved thus far."

"Better we have recovered more than risk the Institute getting their hands on them," Kells said, disgruntled at the notion. "I suspect they have far more than we could ever know, however. If they're capable of creating their 'synths,' then there's very little I would put past their capacities."

"Have we made any progress on determining the Institute's location?" Maxson said, probing his forehead. "I keep hearing the same rumours of it being on the premises of the former CIT, something Zimmer, of course, claimed, but it seems impossible."

"It is impossible," Quinlan said, his lips flattening into a thin line. "So far as we know, of course, but it is most likely an intentional misdirection. From my understanding, however, our best chance at learning more about the Institute and their location is from the town of University Point, as the Institute has a rather disturbing and obvious presence there."

"University Point may actually be the key to solving a few of our issues, in the short term," Teagan remarked. "Consider – if we start with them providing us aid in the form of physical resources in exchange for the protection we're bringing the entire Commonwealth, we'll be able to prove them we are what they need, and they don't have to bow down to the Institute."

"The town at University Point is also the last confirmed location of Dr. Li on the surface, isn't it?" Maxson smiled faintly when Quinlan nodded. "Have we gotten any reports of her returning to the location of late?"

"As we've pulled in significantly to ensure things are under control at the airport and our pre-established bases, such as the Cambridge Police Station, no, we have not had any updates on the town since the initial report from Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys," Quinlan said, taking down another few lines of notes. "I suspect the Institute would be unlikely to put her anywhere near the surface, but especially there since the arrival of the Prydwen. We will, more than likely, have to wait to catch them off guard."

"Damn," Teagan said. "Still, we should keep a close eye on the location. Keep in mind, the Institute are arrogant to the nth degree."

"True, but, without proof, I don't believe the claim of the Institute keeping their 'promise' to let the girl they kidnapped visit her father," Ingram said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "With what we know about them? They would absolutely dangle the possibility of it in front of the girl's father as a way to keep him and the town in line. A threat, and not a subtle one either."

"It's reprobate," Maxson said, a dangerous edge slipping into his voice. "The fact the Institute takes people would be horrible enough on its own, but the fact they were more than willing to take a young teenager over some trivial research she had uncovered is damning. Unfortunately, I can understand why they would use Dr. Li to bring her in. Of all the things the Institute have forced on her, the ones we know about, at least, I find this to be the most disturbing."

"It is, especially because Dr. Li is not an intimidating presence, not physically, at least," Ingram sighed. "I would not want to get into an intellectual stand off against her, but she's petite and, as 'charming' as she can act sometimes, prim. No doubt the Institute recognised and exploited her for those reasons."

"Another reason to bring her back into the Brotherhood," Maxson replied, though irritation still cut through his voice. "What could have ever possessed her to think even seeking them out would be a good idea?"

"She has a temper," Ingram snorted. "Not to say I don't, but she can make me look like a restrained monk when she gets angry. I still can't believe she shouted at Elder Lyons on several occasions."

"Undeniably out of line," Kells frowned. "Her interrogation will have to be done quite delicately once we are able to bring her back where she belongs."

"It will," Maxson paused in thought. "We ought to keep an eye out for the girl the Institute used her to kidnap. Rescuing her should be a priority, too. No child should go through something so heinous."

"No, they shouldn't," Teagan grimly agreed. "My and Desiree's children are far from being so young – both of them are well into their twenties, as you know, and serving in the Mojave – but I would have been appalled if someone had even attempted what the Institute has done to this girl to them."

"It's settled, then," Quinlan said. "We will attempt to rescue this girl as a secondary objective to our efforts to find and bring Dr. Li back where she belongs. Loathe as I am to admit it, I suspect she is the only one who could fix the rest of Prime's issues."

"Hate to agree, but you're right," Ingram sighed. "Some of Prime's engineering is above my pay grade, and I've spent years upon years putting him back together and restoring as much of him as possible. There are probably people in the Commonwealth who could do it, but it would be easiest to have the woman who was the lead of the team originally completing Prime be the one to revive him."

"Indeed," Kells said with a short nod. "Madison Li may be a sour taste, but she's a brilliant scientist in her own right, something she more than proved in resolving Prime's power issues the first time around."

"Careful," Ingram said, her voice lighter with a tinge of amusement to it. "Let enough of the younger Scribes and Knights hear you say that, and they'll be annoyed about a woman having the kind of power Li did during the war with the Enclave. Trust me, I know how some of the younger recruits feel about women who surpass them."

Teagan chuckled. "I still can't believe most of us, myself included, spent the first three years we knew you thinking you were a man."

"The Paladin I joined under wasn't letting women serve," Ingram said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I proved him wrong. He didn't make me a man as he said he would do to all of us under his charge. He made me a woman who's willing to fight longer, harder, and faster if the occasion calls for it."

"Something which has quite inspired me," Maxson said with an approving nod. "And a spirit I hope Karissa and I will be able to instil in our children."

Ingram faintly smirked. "I expect you will. As for me, I still take pride in what I did, and the work I've done over the last twenty five years to get where I am."

"IG-444K, good, your punctuality is quite appreciated," Elder Owyn Lyons had smiled when the young Knight properly acknowledged him and stood at attention across from him, where he sat, in their power armour. "Your fearless service and rescuing of several of your Brothers after your squadron's Paladin fell in battle is not something I will forget. As I've spoken personally with the other members of your former squadron, I appreciate you not making me wait. Your name is Allen Ingram, is it not?"

"A minor correction, if I may, Elder Lyons," The Knight had said, removing the helmet of their power armour. "The name the Paladin gave you was incorrect."

Lyons had quirked an eyebrow. "Then what is your name, Knight Ingram?"

"Elisabeth," She had said, tucking her helmet under one arm and letting her hair down from its tight bun. "It's Elisabeth Mischelle Ingram."

"Noted, Knight Ingram," Lyons had smiled. "Thank you for your service thus far, Sister."

Ingram had faintly smiled back. "It's an honour, Elder Lyons."

"Things have changed significantly since then, of course, and largely thanks to Elder Lyons," Maxson recalled. "But I quite strongly believe in its continued evolution. If one of our Brothers or Sisters can prove themselves to be a loyal and dedicated member of the Brotherhood, then I believe they have earnt their keep, even if they are at the beginning of their service."

"A good outlook," Ingram said, standing up and granting him proper acknowledgement. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to ensure my team isn't being heckled, again, by those 'Atom Cats.' They're one hell of a nuisance."

"They really are," Quinlan said dryly. "If they were being honest when saying they intend to be a 'power armour gang,' then they're certainly succeeding in acting the part of a gang."

"Needless intimidation tactics, disruption of legitimate and important activities," Teagan rolled his eyes. "I'd find them amusing if it weren't for the fact they've taken to playing a song about 'making a man' out of people on the tarmac in an attempt to annoy us into taking them seriously. If they think obnoxiously playing music from pre-War musicals and interfering with the scrap materials recovery of some of our Knights is doing anyone good, they're mistaken."

"What shocks me most is the immaturity," Maxson said, standing up and walking over towards where, from the Prydwen's command deck, a bit of the gang's 'outpost' was visible. "Several of them are in their thirties, and none of them are younger than twenty four. One would hope they'd have at least some self awareness and maturity, but apparently not."

"They might as well be feral children," Kells coldly remarked. "They have the attitude of such. So much as I would like to forcibly remove them, giving into their childish behaviour by acknowledging it so brashly would, I suspect, only embolden them."

"It would," Maxson said, his eyes narrowing upon noticing the gang seemed to be preparing some sort of obstacle course. "What in the world are they building?"

"An arena for capture the flag," Teagan informed him. "They seem to think it's amusing but, really, it's nothing more or less than a waste of perfectly good resources we could make much better use of."

"They also pelted the gantry with paintballs the other night," Ingram said, crossing her arms. "We've secured the area, now, so they can't get into it but, for God's sake, I can't think of much more childish than just a fraction of the things they've done, including the paintballs."

"Seems they're another nuisance in the Commonwealth to deal with," Quinlan said, scoffing. "They won't be able to keep this up forever. Soon enough, they – and the Commonwealth at large – will come to understand the importance of our mission here and, then, their attempts to interfere will stop. Unfortunately, for now, we have to wait this out a little longer, never mind how aggravating it is."

The Institute
August the 10th, 2288
14:00

"Now, I am well aware my observations of REM sleep in our third generation synths have been off putting, and I understand the confirmation of their ability to experience REM sleep and to, of course, dream is disconcerting for some. However, I truly see this as a remarkable sign of just how well we have created our synths, and proof of our success in replicating man."

Dr. Alan Binet being almost giddy at the start of his presentation had been, in and of itself, a sign of where it would be going. Every time before, when he had been proven right about the functions or behaviours of synths, he would be just as giddy, if not a bit smug about being correct. This time was no different. For the other members of the Directorate, though his slightly smug comments on how he had successfully proven, in particular, Dr. Justin Ayo wrong about the third generation synths malfunctioning could be heavy handed, they were at least somewhat amusing. His excitement at discussing the subject overall, however, was exhausting. Every so often, glancing at each other, Dr. Allison and Dr. Nathan Filmore were both relieved Quentin did not have to come and was therefore not squirming and uncomfortable with the fact they were leaving him alone for most of the day, with his adoptive sister minding him and his baby sister or not. Dr. Clayton Holdren, on the other hand, was almost as excited and fascinated by the subject of synth sentience as Alan, taking notes on nearly everything the other man said. Disgruntled, Dr. Justin Ayo said nothing, biting back the urge to ask Alan a myriad of more personal questions about his research. Across from him, he knew, too, Dr. Alana Secord was giving him a sharp, pointed look every time he nearly said something. Trying to distract himself, he kept wondering why some of the people present were there.

Dr. Evan Watson, he supposed, was a reasonable presence, not the least of which being because of his being called, every so often, to assist in decision making by the Directorate. The same could be said of Dr. William Moseley, who seemed less than thrilled to be listening to Alan as he discussed the signs of sentience in humans and how they correlated to the signs of sentience in synths. As for Dr. Nathan Filmore, though he did not like to admit it, Justin knew, as the third most senior member of Advanced Systems and the husband of the head of the Facilities Division, his presence was understandable. Most interesting to him, however, was the presence of Dr. Chantelle Zimmer, one of the SRB's top psychiatrists who, when not working with Coursers and weeding out those unfit to continue as a Courser or those who should become Coursers, spent most of her time reading or taking on surface missions to assist Coursers. Much like her father, admittedly. She does her work well, and without complaint. Most people complain and complain if they get sent to the surface for anything. She at least has the good sense to take pride in being given such sensitive projects, and she takes orders incredibly well. Most efficient person in the SRB, without question. Of course, as he had expected, both Shaun, as the Institute's Director, and his father were present, but, much to his annoyance, both men seemed quite interested in and quite tolerant of Alan's assertions, assertions which grew bolder and bolder the longer the presentation went on.

What annoyed him most, however, was the fact he found himself in agreement with Dr. Madison Li in her exasperation with Alan.

"While signs of sentience are, naturally, subjective, we narrowed down the list to three key factors for the sake of our study," Alan proudly said, clicking to the next slide of his presentation and pulling up a three dimensional, holographic model of a synth brain. "The first is the ability to recognise and experience stimuli in an emotional manner or, in simpler words, perceive both sensation and emotion. The second is the ability contemplate and act productively using knowledge, experience, understanding, common sense, and insight, which is typically referred to sapience, though I believe the term is becoming outdated. Finally, the third criterion we used was whether or not this can develop in isolation, without a synth knowing they are not a human and without being given anything to do or consider."

"I'll admit, the similarities in the brain of a synth which has been active versus the brain of a human are stark," Nate mused. "I would like to see much more research done into the subject before giving a definitive answer, but the possibility of our third generation synths becoming sentient and conscious does seem to be there. The evidence you've provided towards synths dreaming is incredibly damning to any argument opposing the possibility of third generation synths being able to experience some form of consciousness."

"It is, though, Dr. Binet, truly," Allie said, raising an eyebrow when the holographic display shut off and Alan moved to the next slide displaying the results of multiple brain scans in both control and experimental groups. "On page ninety seven of your study, you cite you asked Coursers questions about things topside. I understand why, of course, but, on a specific note, was it necessary to ask Coursers undergoing brain scans if they could recall dreaming of wasteland creatures? Or to ask regular synths the same question in an attempt to 'probe the boundaries of imagination,' as you put it?"

"Very much so, thank you Dr. Filmore!" Alan happily responded. "I'll confess – when I first observed our synths experiencing signs of REM sleep, I did wonder to myself this: do synths dream of irradiated cows, colloquially known as brahmin? This, of course, was a question which came to me as it was similar to the title of one of my favourite novels by Philip K. Dick – Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? Ironically, considering I am sure Dick had no idea of what we could ultimately achieve in the scientific community, the answer turned out to be yes. Some of our Coursers did have dreams within which wasteland creatures were recalled."

"The thorough documentations of these…dreams are remarkable," Clayton said, pausing to review some of the footage of the dreams in awe. "I never expected a synth could experience fragments of memory again in a dream, and in the same way we do, no less."

"I was rather astounded to find out about it," Alan confessed. "As for our regular synths, their dreams were much more…fantastical. I intend to look further into why, but I posit, at the moment, the reason the dreams Coursers are now documented as having been more grounded than those of our regular synths is because they have experience above ground and therefore do not have an overactive imagination about it."

"Well, either way it's disappointing to know this is an issue we cannot do much about," Justin said, barely restraining his annoyance. "Although I think we can firmly say this 'overactive imagination' is likely why some synths have come to the incorrect conclusion they are not machines and instead people."

"I beg to disagree, Dr. Ayo," Alan confidently replied. "Our third generation synths are displaying signs of sentience and consciousness. If we consider ourselves people for those reasons, then I believe it should be no different for a synth. If a synth can consciously desire, for instance, affection and approval from its peers – human or synth – then it is recognising and having an emotional response to its surroundings, the same as any human."

"How far are you willing to take that question, then?" Justin said, frowning. "Have you, for instance, had E9-25 tested after your conjugal engagements?"

Alan dropped his clicker, his face flushing red.

"I…well, I…" He nervously looked around the room, his gaze briefly falling on the Filmores and, beside them, the Thompsons, both couples sending him a warning look. "Dr. Ayo, really," Alan eventually spluttered. "Would you dare ask anyone else in the Institute if they bed their partner?"

"I don't have to," Justin irritably replied. "In your case, it is relevant, because your 'partner' is not human, and is a synth, and, if you are claiming synths are somehow conscious, I don't doubt you're on the verge of claiming they have the ability to pair bond."

"Eve has pair bonded, not only with myself, of course, but with Liam. She might as well be his mother," Alan said, then shaking his head. "I did not include E9-25 in this study because I have a very obvious conflict of interest, and because it would be egregiously unethical."

"Correct, Dr. Binet," Madison said, though she could not hide her discomfort. "Notwithstanding, I don't think anyone should or wants to know what goes on between you and Eve. It's your business, and it's best if it's kept away from everyone else."

"Also, I should point out," Clayton awkwardly added. "Biochemically speaking, with all the functions the human body carries out, it could be considered a machine too."

"Synths are largely organic," Nathan mildly noted. "The only things inorganic about them – for our third generation synths, at any rate – are their chips and their blood, technically speaking. Everything from bones, to tissue, to muscle, to the brain are grown from human tissue so, while not created by natural human reproduction, what makes a synth body a body is by and large the same as to what makes our bodies a body."

"Precisely!" Alan said, albeit still flustered. "Though they're not perfectly congruent to human bodies, they are created from the same things."

"Then tell me, Dr. Binet," Justin venomously began. "Why should we consider a machine we can erase the memories of and reset a person just because it can experience the same things as us?"

"Because we do those things to make it easier to pretend the synths are not able to be our equals," Alan said, a hint of annoyance to his voice. "There doesn't need to be a distinction between us and them. Even our earliest Coursers had been documented as experiencing REM sleep. Though I did not have as many chances to observe him as I'd like, Armitage showed immense signs of sentience when I was last able to take brain scans and observe him about four years ago. I look forward to reviewing him again."

"Unfortunately, Dr. Binet, reviewing S3-47 will be impossible," Shaun said, standing up. "I understand you are about halfway through your presentation, and I will not take long. I'm quite sure everyone needs a break to have lunch before the second half of your presentation," He paused, waiting for everyone in the room to be attentive. "As you all well know, the Brotherhood Of Steel have been causing…issues for us since their arrival in the Commonwealth. Unfortunately, they, also, had already done significant damage to the Institute before their arrival, the facts of which I only recently received confirmation of."

Madison narrowed her eyes. "In what manner?"

"The Brotherhood Of Steel found out about Dr. Zimmer and his presence in the Capital Wasteland after over a decade of them being unaware of his importance to the Institute, or, really, his tie to the Institute in the first place. The same could be said for S3-47," Shaun said, looking at Dr. Chantelle Zimmer, who had raised an eyebrow. "Dr. Zimmer, as we already discussed the matter, might I have permission to say what we have already discussed, now, outright, here?"

She nodded. "As always, I leave it to your discretion."

"Thank you," Shaun said with a short nod. "I will be quite blunt," He went on. "The Brotherhood Of Steel killed Dr. Zimmer and, no doubt, have destroyed and dissected S3-47 for their own gains."

Justin stared at him in disbelief. "So, I am officially the head of the SRB," He smirked at the other members of the Directorate. "Tragic Zimmer had to die, of course, but I truly –"

"Dr. Secord is the head of the SRB, Dr. Ayo, a decision I have been considering for quite a while," Shaun informed him, hiding his amusement at the look of anger and disbelief on Justin's face. "In light of both your inability to curb synth escapes and your lack of transparency in your actions in the SRB, I have promoted Dr. Secord to head of the SRB and Dr. Zimmer as her second in command. You are third in SRB seniority."

"You can't be serious!" Justin furiously exclaimed. "How can you possibly justify this? After over a decade of keeping the SRB running in Dr. Zimmer's stead –"

"Ignoring your borderline insubordinate tone, I will simply say this," Shaun said, raising a hand to silence him. "This is a matter I have been critically considering for several months. I did not make such a decision lightly, and I expect it not to be taken as such. Have I made myself clear?"

Justin spluttered but, the others beginning to leave for the brief, single hour break, left the room, looking rather disgruntled.

"To quote one of your favourite television shows, Jannie," Enrico whispered to his wife. "He should 'stop acting like a disgruntled pelican.'"

Janet affectionately swatted at him. "Hush you. This is serious."

"Consider me quite stunned," Alan said, stepping over to Alana while she stood up. "But congratulations on your promotion, Dr. Secord," He shook her hand and then sympathetically turned towards Chantelle, bowing his head. "My condolences on the loss of your father, Dr. Zimmer."

"Thank you, Dr. Binet, but he and I have not spent much time together since he left for the Capital the first time," Chantelle said, pausing. "In some ways, it, sadly, felt as though I'd already lost him long before he actually passed."

"I get the feeling things will be going much more smoothly," Nathan remarked when Madison walked past him and Allie. "This a relief, I assume?"

Madison turned back around, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"Well, I would be lying if I said I weren't happy about this particular change, now wouldn't I?"

Goodneighbour
August the 15th, 2288
18:34

"Unbelievable as it is, the Institute does, in fact, use teleportation as its primary mode of entrance and exit. Hesitant as I was, however, I am glad you were able to come to an agreement with Miss Norwich."

When Desdemona, Glory, and Deacon entered her laboratory and closed the doors almost silently behind themselves, Dr. Madeline Amari pulled up the records of Glory's prior procedures. After guiding Nora Norwich through Kellogg's memories, this is simple in comparison. Still, the toll it takes on Glory is steeper than she'll admit. At least Desdemona is here for the procedures, now, which should help keep her calmer and more reasonable. Out of the corners of her eyes, she observed Glory taking her seat in one of the memory loungers, Deacon taking his seat in the other. Desdemona pulled a chair over to where Glory was sat in the memory lounger, and reached over to take her hands, squeezing them with a reassuring smile. She eased the tension in her body a little, but it soon returned when Amari came over to attach a few nodules to her head. The doctor's hands a bit cold, Glory flinched and held Desdemona's hands a little tighter. Deacon, on the other hand, was completely relaxed, barely moving or responding at all when Amari took his vitals one last time after attaching the other set of nodules to his head. Concerned, she waited a minute to ensure he wasn't having any medical issues before stepping back over to and sitting down in front of her computer terminal. Booting up the system, she waited to begin the simulation until both Glory and Deacon confirmed they did, in fact, still want to go through with the procedure. Then, a bit nervous, unsure as always of how Desdemona would react, she began the simulation.

"Keep talking to me…" She said, glancing over her shoulder at Glory. "What are you seeing?"

"A lot of white, silver, grey…same shit as usual. Guess the Institute aren't a huge fan of interior design," Deacon's voice said. "But it's not the same as…it's not the room where they get me talking. It's…"

Almost shaken by the amount of people around him, Deacon kept reminding himself none of it was actively happening. Memory. It was a memory. Still, no matter how many times they did it, something about the simulation was disorienting, almost, at times, painfully so. Taking a look around the room, he jumped in his skin when he saw the machines on one end of it and a series of pods up against the walls, pods within which synths were held. Limp. Glassy, lifeless eyes. Dead. For all intents and purposes, they were dead, or near it. Either they had been 'reset' by the Institute or were about to be. The machines at the end of the room were what caught his eyes. Chairs. They were chairs, or, at least, something similar to them but for whatever purpose the Institute had for them. He had little hope for what they would do. The most comfortable part about it looked to be a head rest. There were needles, and restraints. A sickening sensation started bubbling in his chest, and he swallowed hard when the doors to the room opened, followed by Glory entering. Her hair was dark, again, tied up in a bun which looked painfully tight on the top of her head, and in the same heavy uniform with the same austere look on her face. She was only a little bit ahead of an irritable man with an aggressive scowl on his face.

He was given pause, however, when another man, one dressed the same as Glory, entered the room, carrying the body of a woman over his shoulders.

A woman he recognised all too well when she was laid out on an autopsy table Glory rolled out from a closet in the room.

"X5-12, good work on retrieving X8-31. The gang in the town are dead, you said? The ones responsible for the destruction of X8-31?" The man frowned at the body. "Ruined the unit's chest. I doubt any of the parts within the unit are worth recovering, or even able to be recovered."

"Dr. Binet has requested you turn the unit over to him after the examination of the damage and the recovery of its Courser chip," Glory said flatly. Emotionlessly. Deacon took a step back, horror and dread beginning to latch onto him. "He would like to have the unit studied, specifically for the state of its brain now it has been dead for a great deal of time."

"He does?" The man said with a sick smile. "Bring the unit to Dr. Binet personally after this analysis. X5-12, you have a report on how X8-31 was able to stay off our radar for three years after escape?"

"I do, Dr. Ayo," X5-12 said, going silent when a scientist entered the room and then shut and locked access again. "Dr. Zimmer. You are here to perform the autopsy?"

"Not an autopsy, unit," She coldly said, pulling on a pair of sterile gloves. "An analysis of the destruction of the unit's systems. We need the information on the way the unit was able to be destroyed so easily by a group of wastelanders calling themselves the 'University Point Deathclaws.' A ridiculous name, but beyond the point."

"This recovery should not have taken a whole month, so your report better be substantial," Dr. Ayo said, contemptuously staring at X5-12 while Dr. Zimmer began examining the already open chest. "For instance, did you learn how the unit ended up off our radar for so long?"

"X8-31, as a Courser, had a great deal of stealth training. The unit pretended to be human and adopted the name 'Barbara.' She, about a year after arriving in the 'town' of University Point, married a man called Deacon Chesterfield," X5-12 said, and Deacon's hands clenched into fists. "They lived as poor farmers, and he was a member of the 'gang' calling themselves the 'University Point Deathclaws.' The gang no longer exists."

"Really?" Dr. Zimmer said, removing pieces of equipment which, surprisingly, were relatively intact. Deacon tried to look away but found himself unable to stop staring at her while she worked, wanting to throttle her. "And what happened?"

"Deacon Chesterfield murdered them. He buried X8-31 and then left the town. He has not been seen since July of this year," X5-12 said with a smirk. "He is of no interest to the Institute. He may, even, be dead by now, as a loose cannon, after all."

"Sounds like it," Dr. Zimmer said, laughing as she continued to remove pieces from X8-31. "Still, his gang were clearly effective. This is a massive amount of damage. Did they know the unit was a synth?"

"They did," X5-12 said. "I am not quite sure how."

"A matter Robotics will have to provide us real answers for this time," Dr. Ayo said, aggravated. "It's not enough for a unit to be defective and escape for years on end, they had to make it defective to the point of being easily destroyed by some common plebians."

"X8-31 was a good Courser," Glory said. "It's too bad she could not recognise it."

"Well," Dr. Ayo said pompously. "I would certainly –"

Screaming.

The sound of screaming broke through first, followed by light, out of focus, and then some shapes which were equally out of focus. Something sharp, hot, and painful felt to be ramming in and out of his skull. A figure began to come into focus, and strong arms grabbed onto him. One pair. Another pair. Then another pair. Disoriented, Deacon barely realised he was still screaming until he stopped, his throat feeling as though it were burning. He flailed a little in the chair he was sat onto, and then, their faces and figures still unfocused, felt himself beginning to cry. When things came into focus, he realised Glory was staring at him, looking badly shaken herself. Beside her, Desdemona had her arms wrapped around her to hold her close and steady. Amari let out a heavy sigh, muttering something to herself in a language none of them could understand. Her heels clicked on the floor, and, when she returned, she stood calmly, arms crossed. This is precisely why I wanted them to take a step back from these procedures. We don't know what we'll find in there, and we never do. Seeing Glory begin crying into Desdemona, clutching onto her shirt, Amari nervously watched them, seeing Deacon having broken down crying too. A few minutes passed in silence, the doctor unsure of what to say or do, but, uncomfortable with both the silence and what they had seen, eventually broke it.

"The mind is a very delicate thing," Amari said, looking between them. "I told you once before you would, likely, see things better left forgotten. I am not going to do this again. The two of you have had enough bad reactions in the aftermath of these procedures for me to be comfortable continuing with them."

"I'm so sorry, Deacon," Glory whispered, looking at him through bleary eyes, still clutching onto Desdemona, who was cradling her in her arms. "I –"

"How many times have you told me the score's even?" Deacon quietly replied. "It is. You didn't have a choice. But those scientists, the 'Dr. Zimmer' and 'Dr. Ayo,' are going to pay. If we ever get into the Institute, I'm going to kill them both. They're the ones responsible for what happened to Barb…and a lot of what was done to you."

The Commonwealth
August the 21st, 2288
11:11

"Thanks for coming out here. So, I've led you on long enough. Come out back, and let's see the tarberry farm. I'll even let you have a free tasting."

Jovially whistling and twirling a long shovel in his hands as if it were a flag or a rifle in a colour guard show, one of the ghouls leading the settlement waved the Minutemen to follow after him. The past few hours had been mostly talking with members of the group, several of whom had already been sent out to speak with and work with the ghouls building and repairing some of the settlement's defences. The light breeze in the summer air was a nice change from the sweltering heat of the past week. Amazed by the settlement's self sufficiency, Derek Branson couldn't help but look around at everything they walked by. Just as amazed, Sturges took out a notebook and pen, making note of everything he could. Codsworth, happy as ever to see people working together to rebuild, began speaking excitedly with Sturges as the man took notes. The buildings, on the outside, were cleanly painted and glass was being made and replaced in even the smallest windows in each of the buildings making up the large farm. Electrical generators were running smoothly, and everything from lighting to air conditioning were active and well. A shop was bustling from out of one of the buildings, and, from overheard conversation, a few caravans came by at least once every other week. When they reached the back of the main building, one of the largest farming patches were visible but the first thing they all noticed was an old swimming pool, filled with tarberries. Unable to hide his smile, Preston briefly closed his eyes, taken back, fleetingly, to a simpler time, in childhood, back home, before everything went to hell.

"Filling the pool with tarberries…" Preston said, awestruck. "Ingenious."

"Take it you like tarberries?" Their leader chuckled. "It's all good. I like them too. Deirdre! Come on over here!"

"What's it this time, Wiseman?" She said, catching the shovel he had been carrying with one hand. "Oh! So, he really did it. Good to see you guys. The Minutemen being back was good news to hear."

"Glad to be here," Preston said, shaking her hand and then Wiseman's again. "How have things been around here of late? You been farming here for long?"

"About three years," She replied, turning around and laughing when she saw a group of kids on the playground by the main farming patch. "A lot of us came here as families. Two of the boys over there are mine, eight and nine, and rowdier than a mole rat on cocaine."

"Oh dear," Codsworth said. "I hope they don't cause too much trouble."

"They don't," She said with a smile. "Some children are just rambunctious."

Derek chuckled. "They can be a handful. Out of curiosity, were the kids the ones to give you guys the name 'the Slog?'"

"Partially," Wiseman replied, laughing himself. "Came about after a heavy rainstorm a little while back, too, after some traders had to – their words – 'slog' through all the mud to get a shipment of tarberries out here. They ended up saying it was worth it, though. I say it's just great people share our vision."

"It's a damn good one," Sturges said with a smile. "You folks are real determined. I don't think I've seen a lot of people more hardworking than you guys seem to be."

"We've had to be," Wiseman said with a shrug. "People ain't exactly fans of ghouls. Never have been. My sister and I were both born this way – parents were both ghouls – but never realised how people other than ghouls view us in the Commonwealth until we went to Diamond City for the first time when we were around ten. Weird to say twenty years ago we were ten."

"Time's a bitch," Deirdre said, staking the shovel into the ground. "But also a good thing. Three years has made this place go from a brahmin shit pot to a bustling farm."

"And who did most of the shovelling?" Another ghoul said, coming out from in the tarberry bog. "I was the one who cleared out and cleaned the fuck out of this old pool. You want to try it? We ain't going to refill it, but you can try and dig a second pool if you're feeling motivated."

"Fucking around with her again, Holly?" Wiseman said, elbowing her when she stepped out and joined them. "Go ahead. I always like to hear people take fun jabs at each other around here."

"Alright, then," She said with a light and deeply sarcastic edge to her voice. "You're shit, we're shit, everything is shit, and why try for a better world when there ain't exactly much better out there?"

"Holly's one of them ghouls who got kicked out of Diamond City," Deirdre explained. "Must have been about seven or eight years back, real early into McDonough's crusade against ghouls. She tried to protest with a few other ghouls, and security threw her out for punching McDonough in the face."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Think you did something a lot of people want to do back there."

"He's not the kindest fellow," Codsworth agreed, quieting his systems as they kept whirring. "Frustration with him is understandable. I imagine people appreciated you...making it clear how you felt about him. How they also feel about him, of course."

"I made it absolutely clear how we feel about the son of bitch," Holly agreed with a smirk when she turned back to Derek. "You look like a city type, smooth skin. Don't worry about it. We're just glad the Minutemen are willing to help us fix up our defences. We've been in a good place since we got here and began making our farm here. Only had a few attacks from raiders. Good thing about being a settlement of ghouls from all around the Commonwealth – and beyond it, honestly, we've had people come here from as far away as what remains of the nearest portions of Canada – is people are a bit more hesitant to fuck with you."

"The way people perceive us is a blessing and a curse," Wiseman said, shaking his head. "I also used to live in Diamond City until the rat bastard mayor threw all us ghouls out, though I was kicked out after Holly's protest and punch out. One of the last ones who held on. It was all bullshit. We're ugly, some of us turn feral and kill people, we gives the kids nightmares, all the usual stuff we get from you smooth skins. Now, yeah, it's true there was an incident in Diamond City about fifteen years ago where a ghoul turned feral and someone got hurt but how many humans have suddenly turned violent and killed someone?"

"Far too many," Preston said with a heavy sigh. "I'm so sorry to hear it. But I hope you know you're doing a good thing here."

"Thanks," Wiseman said with a smile. "We ghouls should have a place where we can feel welcome, and that was part of why I started up this farm with my wife and a few of our friends. So, it's a good start, I'm proud of all the work we've done, and, most pertinently, I think we can do more."

"Absolutely, which is part of why we're here," Sturges said, stretching out his shoulders. "Have you guys been having any trouble lately?"

"A little," Wiseman said, looking annoyed for the first time. "You know the people operating the big ass sky thing? They had some of their 'people' come by a few days ago. Sounds like they want supplies. I heard other settlements are getting bothered, too, but who knows. Either way, they're a little too familiar."

"Worse than a little too familiar," Deirdre said darkly. "A few of 'em were disgusting about the kids being curious about their weapons and fancy power armour."

"Told them they were abominations," Holly said, scoffing. "The only abominations are them, thinking they're the ones running things in the Commonwealth now because of all their fancy toys."

"Damn them," Derek swore, trying to restrain himself. "What do you need to defend yourselves against them?"

"We think we scared them off pretty good by shooting the shit out of one of their power armour suits, but they might come back," Wiseman responded. "If you want to help, having some ground support would be nice. We keep up our defences ourselves, but we ain't exactly fighters."

"We'll have some of our people stationed here as soon as possible," Preston said, waving a few of the other Minutemen with them over from tasting some of the tarberries. "But I think a few of us would be happy to help until then."

"Hey, as long as we get tarberries," One of them said with a wink. "You guys seem great."

"Happy to hear it," Wiseman said, high fiving her. "Welcome aboard."

"Thanks for trusting us," Preston said, smiling when he, Holly, and Deirdre smiled at him. "Let us know whatever it is you need. The Minutemen are back, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep the oath I swore when I first joined up, no matter how different things are now than they were then."