"Sure."
"Really!?" Abel asked, almost paralyzed from shock.
With back to back wrenches being tossed in his boat plan it was quite jarring to get an "ok" without any strings attached.
The heavily armored knight nodded. "Yeah. It's not too far from our patrol route and… Well, I really owe you for finding my sister's holotags."
"Man, I can't thank you enough, Duncan. You're really helping me out here."
Abel's hand was dwarfed by the knight's gauntlet as they exchanged a handshake to seal the deal.
"Don't sweat it. Just stop by tomorrow morning with your buddy and we'll see to it that nothing bothers you."
The young man flashed a smile at the brotherhood knight before leaving with a wave. It wasn't every day that things went off without a hitch in DC, and one had to savor moments like this.
His bodyguard awaited him outside the Jefferson Memorial. Several brotherhood scribes and knights alike glared at the armored ghoul with a mix of disgust and distrust. Charon was entirely unbothered, looking him over with his usual dead gaze.
"Knight Duncan and his team agreed to help," Abel announced as he walked up to the ghoul.
Charon nodded.
"Who would've guessed that our scaving trip in Georgetown would've paid off so many months later, huh?"
The ghoul nodded again.
Abel patted his bodyguard's shoulder and motioned towards the rusted warship in the distance.
"C'mon, let's go finalize things with the mechanic."
Charon followed him silently.
Just as Abel and the senior mechanic made their way to the city bridge they found themselves stopped by the chief of security and a team of officers. No arms had been brandished, but the Chief's gaze was stern, failing to waver despite Abel's pleas to let them head off for their job.
"Absolutely not," Chief Harkness stated plainly.
"But everyone's on board! I've even secured a brotherhood patrol to escort us there and back!"
The Chief pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Abel, look, I'm sure you're being smart about this given the amount of caps involved, but if our best mechanic so much as breaks a leg the entire city will enter severe disrepair in a matter of days. I can't allow this."
"C'mon, I swear on my life that I'll bring him back in one piece. After all the work I've done for the city, for you, haven't I earned a bit of trust?" Obvious desperation seeped from his voice despite Abel's best efforts.
"Yes, yes you have, I won't deny that. You've helped out a ton, but you gotta understand. Chops is the only guy in the entire city that has the know-how to do component level repairs on all our fragile electronics. He's the only guy that knows how to maintain the reactor. All the NRI members that looked after it are either dead or too old to move around those cramped spaces."
"That seems like a massive liability," Abel quipped, still struggling to accept this development.
"Yeah, it is, but that's the situation. Look, take one of the younger guys. Hell, take a few. See if they can get anything done. Worst case scenario they can at least uninstall the engine and then we can have a team of brahmin haul it over here for repairs."
Nothing in the Chief's face betrayed his words as Abel's eyes scanned meticulously for the slightest bit of give.
Abel sighed. If the guy was as essential as Harkness made him out to be then it just wouldn't be possible. Fine, they'd haul the damn thing if needed.
"Alright. Have maintenance send me 3 of the best men you can spare. I'll pay 'em 200 caps each."
"Sure. We'll send who we can. Thanks for understanding."
The guard captain spotted Abel's sour expression as his mind raced to try and organize all these new changes.
"Hey, no hard feelings, right?" Harkness asked.
"Yeah, yeah... I'm gonna go back to my hotel room and get ready. Have them wait for me at the bridge, please."
"You got it, Abel."
"Well I got some fucking hard feelings here, Harkness! You just cost me a grand you uptight bastard!" Chops spat out.
The Security Chief sighed as he waved off Abel. "I'll handle it."
Abel spotted a trio of young men, maybe 18 or 19, tops, assembled by the bridge. Despite their youth the oil stains covering their faded overalls spoke of at least some experience.
Despite their youth? Ha, I'm not even 20 myself…
Their eyes were locked on the hulking ghoul to Abel's side. He couldn't blame them. The guy was taller than just about anyone he'd ever seen, and by a large margin at that. The equally massive shotgun in his hands was a jarring shift from the pistols and short barrel submachine-guns that the guards around town used.
"This is Charon. He's my bodyguard, and your bodyguard by proxy. The man doesn't talk much, but he's observant and quick to put down threats. You're in safe hands."
"Uh… what about the brotherhood knights?" The group looked entirely unconvinced.
"We'll meet up with them at the Jefferson Memorial. Still well within the patrol zones. Any other questions?"
The trio shared a few looks and shrugged.
"Alright, follow me. Charon, watch the rear."
Charon grunted before moving towards the back and giving the young mechanics a slight push to get them started.
They moved through the chaos of the developing shanty town and marched on. The sun beat down mercilessly today. Beads of moisture and sweat began to form as the hot humid air took its toll on everyone except the ghoul.
Rivet City was one of the few places left in DC, maybe even on earth, that had functional HVAC. The insulation was far from perfect and some parts of the ship barely felt any impact, but beggar's couldn't be choosers. Everytime he left the ship's halls he was reminded of what a precious luxury air conditioning was.
Somewhat soaked with sweat and a bit more sluggish under the DC sun's assault, the group made it to the Jefferson Memorial checkpoint. Dozens of heavily armed knights, mercenaries, and rivet city guards littered the trenchline that'd been dug. Chatter about battles, enemy positions, and the usual debauchery that soldiers enjoyed filled the air. The mechanics looked a bit nervous, not used to hanging out with such company. Truth be told, Abel wasn't entirely comfortable talking to soldier types, but necessity had blunted his anxiety.
A particularly well armed Brotherhood knight approached them. Their power armor was dented and scratched from countless engagements. A large minigun was held in their hands, and an even larger ammunition pack was mounted on their back. A tell-tale crossed-rifle emblem on the Knights chest plate let him know it was his acquaintance, Duncan.
"What's with the crowd, Abel? I thought it was just you and the tech. Er, well, and the ghoul too."
"Rivet City sec' said they weren't willing to risk their best guy on this job. I got three of their regulars instead. Will that be a problem?" Abel asked.
"Makes the gig a bit more complicated for sure, but I'm a man of my word. We'll get you guys there and back in one piece. Knight's honor."
With that, he motioned over two more knights. They were armed with less intimidating but equally effective laser rifles. Abel had never been particularly adept with energy weapons, but he'd been nailed by them enough times to learn to respect them.
Duncan's company didn't share any pleasantries. The two knights stood rigid as statues. Despite their blackened visors he could tell they were glaring at Charon. Be it prejudice or curiosity the brotherhood never failed to gawk.
Abel led the march while their heavily armored escorts formed a wall with the mechanics in the center. Periodically they'd stop to let one of the knights zap a radroach or bloatfly that got a bit too close, but it was an otherwise uneventful walk to the small harbor.
"Stay put guys, I left some explosives around," he called out with a raised hand.
The group came to a halt as the lone wanderer and his bodyguard sifted through the earth to delicately retrieve and defuse landmines. Once satisfied, the duo climbed aboard the only decent looking ship in the harbor and came back with even more mines.
"Clear! Seven out of seven accounted for!" Abel shouted.
Knight Duncan waved his men forward.
"Alright, set up a perimeter. Civilians, get to work."
The knights set up shop around several well-shaped boulders while Charon kept watch on the boat, his eyes trained on the opposite river bank while the mechanics poked and prodded at the machinery.
"How's it looking?" Abel asked, kneeling down next to them.
One of the mechanics popped open the engine's housing and pointed to a corroded mess of wiring and connectors. A mix of green and white powdered gunk covered the circuit board.
"Looks fucked, boss. Normally we'd use a bit of alcohol, clean it up, re-solder what needs to be re-soldered, and it'd be working again. This? This isn't coming back with a little TLC."
"So we need to scav a new board?"
"New board, new wiring, and a new West-Tek control chip. These electric motors won't run without that proprietary part."
"Got any of that back in the city?"
"The wiring we can get for sure, hell I can jury-rig something with old scrap. That control chip and board though? Never seen one for sale before. I know the security guys have 2 patrol boats with them, but even those chips are exclusive for the WT-071B model. The board for this motor would reject them."
"And there's no way to bypass this? Can't we hack the chip or something?"
"Chops might be able to mess with one of the chips to make it compatible. He's good at detail work like that."
"Hm…"
Another one of the mechanics raised his hand shyly.
"Uh… Why don't we just rip out those motors and slap them on this boat?" He asked, pointing towards the other, much smaller boats tied to the harbor.
"Would… Would that work?" Abel asked, trying not to get his hopes up too high.
"I mean… yeah, why not? We just need those dudes to use their power armor to carry them here, then it's just a matter of bolting them down."
"Lemme take a look first," the most confident mechanic of the bunch said as he made his way to the other ships.
He fiddled around with each one's motor, doing what Abel could only describe as a field strip of the machines before walking back to the group.
"They're rusted but nothing looks outright broken. I'm thinking we polish them up a bit, toss out the old electric motor to save on weight, and then slap on 2 of these smaller diesel motors on to catch a ride back to the city."
Abel looked at him curiously.
"Wait, you've got diesel on you?"
"Nope. But we make it back home. You can send the ghoul to pick up a jerry can from Flak. I think it's like 100 caps a gallon. We'd only need like two or three to get home…. Maybe four to play it safe."
"Yo, Charon, you catch that?"
He nodded and held out his hand. Abel handed him an overfilled leather pouch containing his travel funds.
"Alright. Get to work while Charon grabs the diesel. I'll keep an eye out for trouble."
Hours passed in the scorching summer heat, with only the brotherhood knights spared the misery of labor in these conditions by their hydraulics and built-in AC. The mechanics managed to install two old beat up motors on the ship using a mix of wonderglue and haphazardly placed nails. The questionable job was finished off with bits of plastic and rubber scrap insulating the delicate wiring from the elements. Good enough for now.
Once Charon returned, they filled up the motor's with two gallons of fuel a piece and struggled with the ignition for ages until they finally puttered to life. The mechanics and Abel shared a victory cry while their ghoul guard stared blankly at the riverbank. Knight Duncan turned around to face the commotion.
"Ah, got it going?"
"Yep. Hop on, we'll drop you off back at the memorial."
The knights exchanged unsure glances before tentatively stepping onboard. The ship swayed and creaked under their substantial weight as they settled into position.
"Jesus, Abel, the eight of us must weigh like 5,000 pounds. You sure this thing is alright?" Duncan asked as he struggled to balance himself against the ship's motions.
"Yeah, for sure..." He said uncertainly.
The group rode back to Rivet City uneventfully. Even the usually daring raiders along the Potomac's banks decided that picking a fight against what probably constituted the region's most formidable naval vessel to be a bad career move. Once securely tied off to the shanty town's makeshift pier everyone went their own separate ways.
The mechanics and Rivet City Security would keep an eye on the vessel while Chops did an inspection and refurb on the newly rescued ship. The grumpy mechanic gave him an ETA of a week or so for the brunt of the work to be finished. He didn't even bother negotiating the bill, the day's exhaustion weighing down on him.
Abel collapsed on the hotel's well-maintained mattress, not bothering to strip off his armor.
"You think Kwang will be okay with this?" He asked the ghoul.
"Ships are rare, working engines are rarer."
"I figured as much. I still need to get two other boats for him like I promised, but I think I can get away with handing over rowboats..."
The ghoul said nothing.
"Hey, Charon, you think all this is a good idea?"
"Good or Bad, I am sworn to your service."
"Yeah, I get that much, but I want your opinion. Do I have what it takes to make something like the Pitt?"
"No."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Of course."
"Why though? What am I missing?"
"Experience."
"Experience, huh?"
Well, that much was obvious. He wasn't even twenty. A man like Ashur had led teams longer than he'd been alive. He knew people, he knew the logistics needed to implement systemic change, and he knew scripture if his name "Ishmael" was anything to go by. Those qualities were forged through study and sacrifice.
The loss of father, community, and innocence had left Abel only with God. But faith in the Lord alone would not yield results. His father had ingrained James 2:14-26 far too many times for him to believe otherwise. He found himself thumbing to that page on his well worn bible out of nostalgia as his thoughts churned along.
"...I miss my dad," He whispered softly as his eyes skimmed the old book.
The ghoul at his side offered no words. For once it felt appropriate.
Talon Company HQ
Commander Jabsco grimaced at the reports littering his desk. Five men lost during a raid on the capitol building, three men facing career ending wounds from a frag mine, a cholera outbreak in Takoma Park. Little in the way of good news ever made its way to him. It was bad enough to be losing a few hundred square feet per day to the mutants, but now the brotherhood was muscling into company territory as well.
The Northwest of the region was still firmly under Talon Company's grip, but the rest…? Without more capital he'd be bled dry trying to sustain operations. The folks in Tenpenny and the various merchant families that paid his men to clear out the city's interior simply couldn't afford to finance his troops to the scale needed to win against the mutants. Hell, the bourgeois fucks couldn't even pay on time anymore.
He needed something sustainable to keep the men fed, paid, and housed. Quite frankly, he needed friends as well. His mercenaries could crush the brotherhood, the raider gangs, the outcasts, rivet city, any player in the DC economy. But he could only crush one, and doing so would mean exhausting the fighting strength of the company's men and women. Currently relations were horrible with all of the above. The raider crew in Evergreen Mills was really their only "cordial" connection, and they lacked the numbers and firepower (let alone loyalty) to be relied on.
The Commander stopped himself before the looming dread could distract him further. After a drag on his cigarette to calm his nerves he tapped on the intercom on his desk.
"Staff Sergeant, come in."
A rugged man with a poorly concealed limp entered his office and saluted him.
"Yes, Commander?"
"Organize an envoy to the Ranger compound. Let them know we're holding an indefinite ceasefire with their outfit."
"Alright."
"Head to the treasury and take 400 caps with you. Let it serve as a sign of goodwill between our firms."
"Sir..?"
"Operations in DC aren't where they need to be. I want one less distraction for our field officers."
"I see. I'll have one of my squads deliver the message."
"Good, dismissed."
His sergeant gave him another quick salute before heading off.
That's one headache potentially dealt with…
Riley's Rangers was practically non-existent as far as competing firms went. Even on a good day they were still outnumbered by Talon Company 80 to 1. But they were well armed and exceedingly capable, enough that the few incidents they'd had always led to dreadfully asymmetrical losses. A bit of cash and a loss of face was a small price to pay to keep the peace.
The commander looked over his threat dossiers and skimmed over for potential truces that could be brokered. Rivet City? Doable, the damage they'd inflicted to each other was trivial enough. The Brotherhood? Unlikely, they want the Fort.
Arefu…? Now that was an interesting one. They had cattle and a bit of razorgrain. Word was that some local gang offered them protection in exchange for tribute, perhaps Talon Company could cut them a better deal? Or perhaps an ultimatum?
Definitely not an ultimatum. His firm needed a PR clean up job.
A flash from his terminal's dull screen roused him from his train of thought.
"Veteran's Benefits Meeting - 1700 Hours - Urgent!"
He sighed to himself. Who would've guessed that being a warlord would require so much HR work?