A/N
Not to be morbidly humorous or anything, but why do I get the feeling that if this pandemic doesn't go away we'd be spending the rest of our lives living in bunkers like the Vaults?
Anyways, I just wanted to apologize for being slow in updating this particular fic. I know a lot of you were looking forward to seeing where I'm taking this, so here's a little olive branch for you :) I will see about another one next week, but until then, enjoy!
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It was lunch hour at the mess hall, and the queue line was long.
To speed things up, dwellers were instructed to select their food choices quickly and move to their tables in an orderly fashion. Idle talk was discouraged at the lines, as it slowed the procession. These rules, deemed as little inconveniences by the dwellers, were ignored at first. That changed quickly when subsequent deductions in their credit accounts were found the next day, prompting them to follow or risk what allowance they had for food and supplies. Working for credits was hard enough, and the dwellers were not keen on risking their hard-earned money for a few moments of defiance.
Erik felt like an egg set to boil on a slow fire in the queue, in spite of the cool atmosphere brought upon by the air-condition units. The long line, the crush of bodies pressed together, it all made it impossible to enjoy the few hours of peace he would have on break.
Then, his eyes caught sight of a familiar streak of red a little further down the line.
Roughly five months had passed since the implementation of Vault 115's breeding program, and it was found to achieve the desired results. Of the first batch of breeding partners, consisting of 30 pairs, 21 of them were successfully impregnated. The program monitored these first pregnancies carefully, and by the time they had reached their second trimester, the females were given a more lenient work schedule and less grueling assignments in the Vault.
Felicia, his partner, carried his child in her belly. The thought of it made his chest swell with pride, regardless of how the pregnancy came to be. Over the course of those five months, the life he shared with her was nothing short of miraculous. He expected her to despise him, as he had become inadvertently involved with her situation, pretty much coerced to agree to becoming the mother of the next generation of vault-dwellers. He wouldn't blame her for that, if she felt that way. And yet, she didn't.
They bonded, and very well if he would say so himself.
It wasn't how he'd imagined he would start a family. All his life, his past life, he dreamed of meeting a girl in one of the nearby towns close to the BIA facilities. He would've picked a hardworking, modest- and of course- pretty, country girl. He would've gone through the traditional rite of courtship, engagement and finally, marriage. He would've bought them a nice little house on a hill, built a farm around it, quit his job as an engineer and settle down with her for the rest of their lives. Together, they would bring little boys and girls into the world, see them through school until they'd go off to see the world, and grow old in that same house.
The simplest, average American dream any man would've wanted to see come true.
And yet, here he was. A quarter of a kilometre below ground level, sharing space with hundreds of other dwellers, working his ass off for the right to eat and sleep in peace. No nice little house on a hill, just a small white room to call home. No pretty country girl, but he had Felicia. And, he realized it later after that pairing night in the breeding program, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met.
She was smart, kind and very supportive. In those five months, as he attempted to bridge the gap between them, Erik and Felicia managed to enjoy spending their leisure hours together both in that room and out. Getting to know each other better wasn't that hard, and whatever little flaws they found in one another were overshadowed by their favorable traits. In the projects he was assigned to, she made many creative and very helpful suggestions that improved his performance as an engineer and yielded good results at the completion of his assignments. The directors of the program may have observed the two of them closely in the nights they discussed their work and formulated solutions to whatever problems their projects faced. They must've seen how good a team they'd become, because Erik found a substantial increase in their weekly credit salary.
Aside from being the perfect lab partner, she was also smoking hot. The pregnancy hadn't ruined her figure much. In fact, if one would ignore the outward curve of her belly, the swell in her breasts and the broadening of her hips made the sight of her even more glorious.
Erik couldn't deny it was the perfect match, as perfect as things could be in that bleak existence. He would've preferred a different scenario in their first meeting, but it led them here. Felicia's partnership with him would expire in three years, the thought of it made him think long and hard about how he felt about her. From a logical standpoint, their partnership promised a better future for the both of them and their offspring. From an emotional standpoint, a partnership with Felicia would make living in the Vault worth all the pain, so long as they shouldered the burden together.
A permanent partnership. The only thing he needed to do next was know what she thought about it.
The redhead had set her tray down on an empty table. In spite of the number of people in the mess hall at that time, many had chosen to take their meals to their workplace, and hardly anyone used the tables at the hall. Felicia whipped out her pip-pad and began reading where she left off the other night, a novel she'd picked out of the archives the previous week. The novel she was reading was a crime-solving mystery, featuring the work of accomplished writer Igor Sovkorov, who took inspiration from Alan Krastin, the author of True Police Stories.
"Hello Felicia." Erik greeted as he approached her after getting his food from the distributor. "Mind if I joined you?"
Felicia gave him a warm smile, "Not at all, come sit with me here." She moved over, letting him plop down next to her.
Erik's eyes were drawn to the apparent bump in her midsection. Just a few more months and one of the first babies to be born after the nuclear holocaust would come into the cold world of the Vault screaming. There was a bit of a tightness in his chest as he fumbled around for the right words to say. "Can I talk to you for a second? It's something of a personal nature."
Felicia turned off her pad and set it aside. "Sure. What's on your mind?"
Erik looked at her beautiful, freckled face and found it difficult to form his thoughts into words. He spoke slowly to avoid stumbling over his next sentences, and took her hand in his rough, calloused fingers. "Felicia...would it bother you if I asked you to marry me?"
He didn't have time to brace himself for what he thought would come as rejection. Felicia's smile was even warmer, and her fingers intertwined with his. "No, I don't think it will."
"Oh? Well...that's awesome!" Erik blurted, relieved that this was going better than he'd hoped. And then, his mind went blank. "Uh..."
"Oh poor you." Felicia giggled, "You didn't think this through, did you?"
"Honestly, my plan stopped at the question." He said with a shrug. Her laugh was contagious, and Erik soon found himself sharing one with her. Over time, the pressure left his chest, and Erik found it easier to speak his mind. "I wanna marry you, Felicia. You've made life in the Vault easier for me to bear. How we met may have been the design of this sick breeding program, which I know might arguably be necessary at this time, but something wonderful has happened between us...and I just can't stop thinking about it."
"And you can't bear the thought of seeing me in the arms of another man in three years."
"That too." Erik said with a nod, blushing hard as he confessed. "I just want you all to myself."
"Well I, for one, see this as an absolute win." Felicia replied, "If you wanna marry me, I'm game."
"You just made my day." Erik said gratefully, kissing her hand. He let it stay there, closing his eyes as he felt Felicia brush her knuckles over his lips and cheek. "Tonight, I'm returning the favor."
It was Felicia's turn to blush. "I can't wait." She withdrew her hand and resumed eating. The two spent the next hour chatting about other things, mostly about what they were currently working on, talking well into the last minutes of lunch before departing to work their shifts.
"I have some concerns regarding some of the pairings, sir."
Colonel Stern, again at his weekly inspection of the breeding program, met with Dr. Bella to discuss some changes to be implemented to the program. In the course of the five months, the Vault had expanded its facilities downward and outwards, opening new centers of production to sustain the Vault's inhabitants and its future generations.
"Let's hear it, I don't have all day." Stern said, putting aside the papers detailing the month's report on the newly constructed greenhouses and hydroponics production facilities. These new centers of food production, coupled with the water treatment plants responsible for decontaminating the waters pumped up from deep beneath the earth, solved their problem on sustenance support. Stern planned to have the regulations on rationing made lighter to improve Vault morale, as he had found it increasingly over the past months difficult to keep the dwellers' happiness at a favorable level, regardless of how he'd like them to believe he'd little concern for their opinions.
"Some pairings have worked well for the program's participants, and perhaps a little too well." The director stated, "It has come to my attention that there are some...lingering attachments with some of the breeders. I've received news of numerous marriage applications, all still pending approval."
Stern saw her looking at the letters stacked atop his desk.
"Sir, there's only a few dozen viable females in the Vault, myself included." Dr. Bella continued, "If they all choose to settle for their partners, I think this program's going to have a fairly short life. I give it a year, maybe two."
"Are you saying we should disregard their right to marry? That's a culturally recognized rite of union, so deeply embedded into us as a people that even I wouldn't dare tear down. And you cannot expect me to force them to share their partners, that's a riot waiting to happen."
"No sir, I'm only saying that..." She took a moment to compose her next reply, "We need to come up with a solution that favors both the married partners and the unmarried dwellers. A solution that coexists with the purpose of this program."
"What do you suggest?"
"I was thinking of perhaps using IVF. In vitro fertilization, sir." Dr. Bella said, "Test tube babies. I understand that the project has long been abandoned due to the limitations of its year's technologies, but we can succeed where they failed."
"I'm guessing that would defeat the purpose of breeding partners." The colonel mused. "You're absolutely certain this can be done? We don't possess an infinite amount of resource, doctor. Unless..."
She let him think for a moment and listened to his input, "Unless we use the hybrids as living incubators to breed the next generation along with the program's participants."
Dr. Bella had been briefed before, along with a small circle of colleagues, on the secret project the colonel had commissioned in the restricted facility in the Vault's lower levels. She knew what the hybrids were for, and how far the project had come under Dr. Holiday's supervision. "That could work, I guess. If, of course, there is an adequate number of female hybrids ready for the fertilization process."
"Damn, I just realized we're talking about inseminating a bunch of female babies." The colonel blurted at her response.
"Sir, all due respect, they're not babies." Dr. Bella defended, echoing Dr. Holiday's description of the hybrids. "Just blank slates needing an imprint, or in this case, a necessity in breeding the next generation."
The colonel sighed, "All the trouble we have to go through to keep our people going...Alright, doctor, go brief Holiday on what we've discussed. I'll assemble a separate team for you to supervise."
"Thank you, sir." The doctor said as she turned to leave, "By the way, do you plan on naming it anything?"
"Hm? Er...no. As far as I'm concerned, this still falls under the breeding program."
He was awake.
But he couldn't feel a thing. Not a single muscle to twitch and no limbs to move.
He was awake. And he was frightened.
All he could see, if he could see at all, was an unending blackness. He willed himself to scream, to vent out the fear that gripped him, but no sound could be heard from his nonexistent mouth.
No eyes. No mouth. No ears.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
No ears, but he could definitely hear him. It came as a loud, grating noise that sent painful currents lancing through his brain.
Hello? Where am I? Help me, please! The noise! It hurts so bad!
"I want you to relax, Mr. West." The voice spoke to him again, this time gradually mellowing out into a coherent and well-balanced sentence. He was still scared, but hearing the voice was a welcome comfort in the darkness. He knew he had to keep him talking.
Who are you? What is this place?
His thoughts, somehow, could reach the voice. The voice of a man, a man who knew his name. His name, Gavin West.
Gavin West, US Army.
"My name is Dr. Jack Holiday." The man said to him, speaking through the blackness of his prison. "Mr. West, what was the last thing you remembered seeing?"
Seeing? What he would give to see, or hear, right then.
He focused on the question. At the very least, he could still think.
I remember...I remember I was on leave. Car accident. I woke up in a hospital.
It was a dim mess of memories, but he could make out the most recent pictures seared deep into his mind.
Hospital. Not hospital. They were cutting me up. They weren't saving me. They were...
"They were harvesting you for organs."
...
"Mr. West, what I'm about to tell you should come as rather disconcerting news, but I am obligated to tell you the truth. You've recently been subjected to an illegal brain extraction by a domestic terrorist group called Vault-Tec. The events that transpired during your internment in stasis has led to our discovery of you and hundreds of other brains stored in this facility."
...
"Mr. West, I know it's a tough pill to swallow, but this is something that we both need to do. Do you understand?"
They took my fucking brain?!
"Yes. I'm afraid this is all that remains of you."
How am I still talking to you without a mouth?
"I've installed a translingual software that is synced up with a computer near your tank, this allows me to read your thoughts as the software interprets your impulses into words. I'm able to communicate with you via a microphone."
Who are you?
"As I said, I'm Dr. Jack Holiday. I work for Colonel Roman Stern at Project Achilles."
You work for Stern? That's comforting.
"I'm relieved you think so. I'll be answering any of your questions now, if it helps you adjust to the reality of our situation."
And what situation would that be?
"The war had reached a point in where the enemy decided they wouldn't lose it without one last act of defiance. We don't know the exact extent of the damage done, but we know it has rendered America into little more than a desert wasteland."
...
"We're currently living in an underground shelter called a Vault. This is Vault 115, and it used to be run by Vault-Tec until Colonel Stern took over. So far, over the course of two years, he's kept us alive."
What does all that have to do with me?
"Your brain, as part of Project Achilles, was used to create a personality template for an enhanced human hybrid. The goal of the project is to create transhuman beings that could weather the harsh environment of the Wasteland outside and thrive under its conditions. Your personality template was to test whether a transference of consciousnesses between a vault-dweller's brain and a hybrid's was possible. The first test resulted in your hybrid form massacring my team and nearly killing me."
Really? Why?
"I believe it was because your hybrid retained your memories and acted upon its feelings of rage and aggression, resulting in that unpleasant reaction."
I'm sorry about that.
"Don't be. If anyone is to blame here, it would be Vault-Tec."
What will happen to me?
"Well, we're going to try the procedure again. I'm confident now that I've interacted peacefully with you, your imprint would allow a more seamless transition with your hybrid counterpart. I guess you can say this is me asking for your consent, and also that you refrain from acting aggressively upon the procedure's completion."
It's not like I have much of a choice, right?
"I'm glad we can both see eye-to-eye on this. If you'll wait for just a few minutes, we'll see about getting you a new body."
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