A/N: Sorry for the delay, holidays and all that, but we're back! We rejoin our wayward companions on their journey to Acadia in an effort to rid the Commonwealth of the Institute's plague! While I didn't want to crowbar the DLCs into the story, I think it's fun to play around with them. I dropped this hint way back when Nate returned to the story. And now, here we are! Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 98: The Climb...
As we made our way up the mountain road, I was still trying to process what Longfellow said, make it fit in my model of the world. It had to be something to do with the Fog and its radiation, right? People don't retain selective portions of their faculties when they lose it. This had to be some sort of degradation brought on by radiation exposure.
Right?
How else would those trappers know to set up a well-established ambush site (mostly) and then completely forget how to fight?
Then there were those… crabs. Mirelurks. Apparently, a few places around the Commonwealth had those things too. I'd never run into them. Hopefully, I don't have to fight them underwater again. Genuine fear isn't common when you can physically overpower most things that would make you afraid.
Sometimes, things trigger deep, instinctual fears. Being rushed by giant crab-things while submerged in a radioactive ocean seems to be one of them. It had been so long since I was truly afraid… that was the first time I faced a Sangheili. Seven or eight years ago.
But I'd killed it. That had become a constant in my life.
We'd just finished fending off a pack of wolves not unlike the one I'd seen when escaping the Brotherhood with Andrew and Cass. Dogmeat had taken one down on his own. I didn't see how the fight started, but it ended with him standing over a whimpering wolf, the thing apparently unable to move.
Dogmeat had been bitten in his right foreleg. We didn't need that getting infected by whatever the wolf had in its mouth. I had Nick pull a bottle of alcohol and a gauze out of my pack.
The German Shepherd yelped when the alcohol splashed across the open wound and jerked his leg out of my grasp.
"It's alright, bud", Nick had said in an uncharacteristically soft, smooth voice. He placed a hand on Dogmeat's head and stroked down his neck. "Shh."
After a few seconds of comforting, Dogmeat let me wrap the wound and we continued.
The trees here were tall and thick. Much thicker than I was used to. Our pace would have been glacial if we'd been moving through the forest. I understood why Longfellow wanted to use the road.
"You never answered my first question, monster deterrent", the man asked quietly as we rounded yet another switchback up the mountainside.
"What am I?" I replied.
He nodded. "Your 'mission' to get people that cure is nice and all, sure as hell gets this old man excited for a real adventure, but that ain't what I asked."
Even without the absurdity of my story, I met this guy an hour ago. I had no interest in describing my 'sordid past' to him. A smile crept across my face at the thought. This might be one of the few times 'sordid past' was applicable.
"A soldier. Someone trying to keep his people safe."
"Like I said back in town, a 'soldier' don't take on a bunch of trappers after fighting some Mirelurks in their den and come out the other side. Not in the same shape they went in."
I glanced at the old man. "What type of soldier I am doesn't matter."
"Maybe not to you, but to me?" He laughed. It was too loud. "This old man's been around a long time and seen a whole lot. I ain't seen that. So it's got my curiosity piqued." Longfellow hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the other two. "That's a suit I seen before. Big, bulky, lumbering. Yours ain't that. Plus, those things got extenders for hands and feet. It's why the arms and legs are shaped like they are."
Our guide reached over and rapped a knuckle on the armor over my left forearm with a dull clunk. "Not yours. So you really are that big. Not like the people in those other suits. Only things I know your size are Supermutants. They don't sound like you. You sound like a regular human. Well, your voice does."
He smiled, more to himself than me. "So if you're just about the biggest person I've ever met, big as a Supermutant but not one, wear armor that's nothing like the regular stuff, and can fight good enough to do that back there, I'd say what kinda 'soldier' you are does matter. 'Cause you ain't a regular one."
… It bothers me when people are too damned observant. That wasn't true. A lot of people are observant, and it keeps a lot of them alive. It's why Nate and Nick are still around. Same with a lot of other people in the Minutemen.
Why does that have to be directed at me?
The simplest option would be to tell him to drop it.
Unfortunately, that option wouldn't work. I threatened to kill him earlier and it only got me a smirk. And it isn't like I'm leaving him somewhere, unable to be supervised. He knows why we're here and what we're doing. Maybe it's unlikely that information gets back to Shaun. That doesn't matter. If there's a non-zero chance that happens, he's staying as close to me as possible until I have my hands around Shaun's throat.
A pang of guilt shot through my chest as I thought that. I fought the urge to look back at Nate. The forest towering around us could, and probably would still have threats to throw our way.
What was he feeling? It had to be affecting him but, to this point, he'd been his usual, competent self. He wasn't like me- or- he wasn't like how I was. I'd blocked everything out, that's how I survived. How did Nate keep it together like that? He said he wasn't alright and didn't know if he'd ever be alright, something I could more than understand. His life had been torn apart just as much as mine had. And he's handled it with infinitely more grace than me. If someone were to meet him now… they would never know how much pain he was struggling with.
My eyes did drift back to Nate and Nick. They were both scanning our surroundings in the dim forest. Between the towering trees and the Fog, a lot of light was being blocked from reaching the forest floor.
Then again, I don't know how much pain he's struggling with.
At least he isn't trying to hide it from everyone. As with me, there are people in the Minutemen who care enough about him to help. The fact he talked with Ellie and Nick when we learned all of this was reassuring.
It was easy enough to forget why Nick was here, too. This was an opportunity for him to find answers to a question he'd had for a lifetime.
Guess everyone has a lot more invested in this than I did.
Even if that is true, it doesn't mean anything. I'm still here to keep them safe and get that treatment out into the Commonwealth.
"You been quiet for a minute there, soldier", Longfellow said as we crossed another game trail. This one, unlike the wolves', was empty. "The silent treatment won't make me forget. I ain't that old."
"You think I might not be saying anything because I don't want to tell you?"
"Oh, I figured that a while ago." He laughed again. "I'm too old and seen too much to think anyone's secrets are that sensitive. You told me why you're here, I'm having a helluva time imagining answering my question is any more risky."
I glanced down at him. "Personal details vs. operational details. You have a long way to go to earn that trust."
We were approaching another turn, this one leading up to the right. We'd been following this road up the mountainside for almost 45 minutes. The trip should only be another hour and a half or so.
"If you're worried-"
A crack that almost sounded like a gunshot accompanied by a half-roar half-groan echoed up the mountain from past the turn in the road.
Everyone was alert, guns up and pointed at the edge of the road. I moved to the uphill side of the road and slipped toward the slope. That was a noise I'd never heard before.
"Stop", Longfellow hissed.
When I glanced back at him, he was waving up the hillside.
"Crawler. They usually stick to the thicker parts of the Fog. Best we avoid it. Up the hill."
Part of me wanted to see what this 'Crawler' was. More of me wanted to see if it really was as hard, or harder, to kill as a Deathclaw.
The more pragmatic and less adrenaline-addicted part of me had my legs carrying me up the hill before I could object to the course of action. The others followed behind as I weaved through the tightly packed trees.
Between the steep slope and the damp, loose soil, my boots were constantly trying to slide out from under me.
Nate was having an even harder time with his much more unwieldy armor. I tried to pick a path that would be easier for him to follow. The problem was his limited dexterity in that suit combined with the massive weight made it hard to handle, especially for someone who didn't have much time in one.
We stopped 50 meters off the road when a pack of wolves howled up ahead of us.
The Fog made it hard to see far, not that it would have mattered with the bad sightlines provided by the trees. I could hear… what sounded like frogs, too. If I didn't know better, I might have thought this was a regular forest.
Then the loud crack and the Crawler's groan sounded again.
"How is the Crawler making that noise?" I asked Longfellow. He'd come to a stop behind a tree a few meters to my left.
"It attacks prey by jumping as high as it can", he raised a fist into the air before slamming it into his other palm. "Then it drops. Hit the ground near enough to make a shockwave. Once its prey is out of it, Crawler goes in for the kill."
A concussive blast? From a drop? Either the Crawler was huge, it could jump very high, or it had some other mechanism that helped produce a shockwave.
That wouldn't be effective against me. I don't know how well T-60 dampens concussion but it probably wouldn't be very effective against Nate. The other two…
For now, we should avoid engaging if possible.
"You need help up the rest of this?" I asked Nate.
There were another 30 meters until we reached the next roadway above us. The terrain didn't change so, as long as nothing new happened, he should be able to handle it. The issue was time. I didn't like being at a disadvantage and a muddy, slick hillside is one of the few places where Mjolnir armor can be a liability. The sooner we get off it, the better.
Nate shook his head. "I should be fine."
I nodded and jerked my head toward the top of the slope. "Let's move."
Starting back up the slippery climb, I kept the path at a shallow angle to the road above. It would help both of us maintain better footing in the loose soil.
After another minute of doing my best to keep my feet under me, we reached the road. It was cracked and rutted but it was still pavement.
The relief didn't have a chance to take hold. A familiar patter of feet came from my right. Feral ghouls, seven of them, came charging out of the fog toward us.
"Nate", I snapped as I pulled my knife.
Impacts from the ex-soldier charging forward trembled through the concrete under my feet and, just before the Ghouls reached me, he was to my right.
The first one launched itself at me, arms outstretched like it intended to tackle me to the ground. I met its lunge with an elbow to the side of its head. The result wasn't as spectacular as if the blow had been straight on, but it got the job done.
With a sharp crack, the Ghoul was thrown to my left and slammed into the uphill embankment.
Another one crashed into Nate but, with the added weight, he didn't budge. Ghouls wouldn't be able to do anything with that armor.
Because these things were charging head first, the fight didn't take long. A few well-placed jabs with my knife, a knee to one's sternum, an open-palmed strike to the last one's head, and, between Nate and I, the seven Ghouls were down.
"Glad you think you can use me as a wall", the infantryman said as he stepped over one of the dead Ghouls.
I waved the other two forward and resumed my position at the front with Longfellow. "Better than shooting. We don't need to keep broadcasting our location."
"... Yeah, I got that", he muttered.
The wolves we heard earlier were in the same direction the road was taking us. Hopefully, we wouldn't run into them. Nate packed plenty of ammunition, but that didn't mean I wanted to run through it. I only have what we brought, and that has to get us through this and infiltrate the Institute.
That was something we needed to sit down and talk through. The complex was massive and, the last time I was there, had more than 2000 people. With how many Synths they can produce and how little direct action they've engaged in over the last month, there will be a lot more now. We needed a game plan for assassinating Shaun and Ayo at the very least. If I had to eliminate the other division leaders besides Li, that… would be difficult.
Let's get to Acadia first. We'll need to see if we can contact either the Minutemen or Li's team in the Institute. Then worry about putting a plan together.
"How much farther?" I asked Longfellow as we came to another turn. This one went left, directly up the hill.
"We're makin' good time. Better than I've made since the Fog rolled back in. Should be there in another half hour at this rate."
As we started up the hill, I glanced at the old man. Both his and Dogmeat's breath were small, ghostly puffs hanging in the air.
We crossed another game trail a minute later before the road turned right again to skirt the side of a 15-meter rock face. Unlike the last one, there were no wolves to attack us.
In fact, the next 10 minutes of climbing steep slopes and winding through switchbacks passed in silence. Aside from the sound of another Crawler far down the mountain. It might have been the same one we heard earlier.
Eerie. That's the best word I could come up with to describe the trip up the mountain. Between the radioactive fog, mutated creatures, and an island almost entirely devoid of habitation, the experience was eerie. Seeing the bombed-out corpse of Boston was foreboding, this wasn't quite the same but it might have been worse in its own way.
As we neared the crest of a long slope, I noticed the Fog was starting to thicken. It wasn't fast enough to see a gradient, but my sightlines were definitely shortening.
"Stop", I said, holding a fist up. "Fog's getting worse."
Longfellow grunted. He was starting to breathe hard. "Yeah, it is. I don't like the look of it."
I turned to the old man. "Why?"
"If it keeps gettin' thicker like this, we could run into some real trouble. Grown Gulpers or a Crawler. Sorry, monster deterrent, I don't wanna see if you can handle those things. Not when my ass is on the line too."
Grown Gulpers? They get bigger?
There was a shape in the Fog, maybe 50 meters ahead of us, at the crest of our current climb. It looked like the remains of a pickup truck.
"Alternatives?"
That question could wait. For now, it was about making progress.
Our guide nodded. "It's pretty flat for a while. Could use some of the game trails to get around this pocket."
"What about radiation poisoning?"
"I got that covered." Longfellow reached into a pocket and produced a pill bottle. RadX. "Want one?"
"No", I replied, shaking my head.
"What about your dog?"
My eyes drifted down to Dogmeat. He stood between us, eyes focused on the road ahead, ears up and forward. The German Shepherd was panting.
That was a good question. Would he take a pill? I hadn't thought about that.
And now I felt like an asshole for not having thought about it.
How would he make Dogmeat take a pill if he wouldn't eat it on its own?
He'll eat damn near anything.
… Oh. That was simple enough.
Turning so my back was facing the old man, I motioned to my pack. "Take some food and give him a pill with it." I waved back toward the other two. "Stay here with them. I'm clearing to that truck."
"Easy enough", Longfellow said. I heard him unzip a pouch and shift something around before closing it a few seconds later. "Alright, don't get yourself killed."
Right.
Old Longfellow started back toward Nate and Valentine-
But Dogmeat didn't follow this time.
"Dogmeat", I said, pointing down the hill. "Go."
He didn't budge.
Sometimes he was so good about following orders. Others… he could be as stubborn as Nate. And I didn't have time to 'argue' with him.
I glanced at Longfellow. He was holding the bottle of RadX in one hand and a package of jerky in the other.
Holding out a hand, I said, "Give me one of each."
A smirk flashed across the old man's bearded face, and he did so before heading back to the others.
"You're a pain in my ass", I muttered, wrapping the pill in the piece of jerky. Dogmeat was looking up at me. Or, more precisely, he was looking at my hands.
When I offered it to him, he snapped it up the moment it was within reach. He swallowed without chewing.
"Why do you like food so much if you don't even taste it?"
Without the jerky to draw his attention, the large dog's eyes were back on the hill's crest ahead of us.
After a mental shrug, I shouldered my rifle again and we started toward the truck.
The Fog was noticeably thicker at the top of the hill than it had been when we started this climb. With forest to either side and at the same level as the roadway, my sightlines were limited to less than 20 meters in both directions.
It was uncomfortable but I've operated in vision-limited environments plenty. Sounds could tell you almost as much about your surroundings as sights.
Even so, I could feel my heart rate elevate a few beats as we neared the vehicle's remains.
Everything was quiet. That might have been the worst part. Forests weren't usually silent. There was some form of sound-making wildlife unless a predator was present.
The quiet suggested this forest was a hostile environment where anything that wanted to survive did so by being-
When I reached the truck, I realized Longfellow was right.
It was like the Fog collected in places, attracted to itself. Over the crest, it thickened dramatically.
That wasn't what caught my attention, however. What did that was the massive shape a dozen meters ahead of us.
With how thick the haze was, I couldn't make out details, but it was large. The thing was stationary and resting against another burnt-out car. Judging by the size of the car compared to it, whatever I was looking at was at least 4 meters tall. Or long. I didn't know.
Dogmeat's ears had flattened to his head and his teeth were barred.
While whatever I was looking at was large, it wasn't the right shape to be a Deathclaw.
A Crawler…
So I got to see one after all. Other than its still form, the area was clear. It wouldn't surprise me if the other wildlife was giving it a wide berth. If we wanted to continue straight, this thing was the only obstacle in the way. Part of me wanted to. Despite trying to change, I'm too competitive for that instinct to ever go away.
Even if that little voice in my head was telling me to hell with playing it slow, engaging didn't seem prudent.
No shields, other people, and a time-sensitive objective. Do this another time.
It would be a lie to say, as I began backing away from the truck, there wasn't a pang of disappointment. Just like in the Glowing Sea with the Deathclaws, I wanted a good fight. It had been a while since I had one I could enjoy. Breaking out of the Raiders' base was hard, not enjoyable.
Enjoyment can be had another time. Clock's ticking.
Once Dogmeat and I were far enough away from the crest the Crawler's still form was hidden from view, I turned and began jogging down the hill toward the others.
"Crawler", I said once I reached them. "I think."
Old Longfellow stiffened. "What's it look like?"
"Big. Four meters. Couldn't see much detail."
Our guide nodded, face set in a grim frown. "Nothin' else gets that big on this island."
"We use the forest, like you said. No talking, only hand signals." I looked off to the right side of the road. The hillside wasn't as steep as what we climbed earlier. Footing wouldn't be as bad. "I'm on point, alone. Stay 20 meters back. If we get caught out, I'll draw attention. How much farther until we reach Acadia?"
"Hmm", Longfellow mumbled. "Not far below the fog line. Once we get past this flat, it's another short climb, and that's it."
I nodded. "Let's move."
As we started off into the forest, I couldn't help but think: this felt too easy. We land on this island, find a guide within half an hour, and now we're just about to Acadia, where we'd, hopefully, find our ticket back into the Institute?
Except for the part where I have to kill the Institute's leadership. This is the easy part. I slipped between a pair of trees, their branches seeming to reach down for me. It was almost like they wanted to brush against my armor and alert the Crawler.
Yes, I still had to infiltrate an enemy stronghold and assassinate their leaders, but less than three hours after landing on this island, we were almost to our objective.
Granted. Problem is, we don't know if they'll be willing or able to help.
If Li said it's our best lead…
Lead, guaranteed back door.
My right foot tried to slide out from under me as I stepped over some undergrowth. I tensed my legs and set a hand on the tree to my right. The constant traction issue was getting annoying.
When I glanced back, the others were plodding through the forest, staying an acceptable distance behind me. Putting myself this far in front served several functions. First: I could pick a path that was easiest for everyone to follow without making too much noise. Yes, I'm sure they all had some experience trying to move quietly, especially Nate. There's a world of difference between that and moving silently when (potential) survival is at risk. Especially when there was no ambient sound to cover up mistakes.
Second: like I told them, the added distance would allow me to both be the one to trigger any hostile response and put enough distance between us to let me draw the Crawler's attention if need be.
And third: it gave me more room to be creative. Longfellow was an old hand at moving through these woods. His step was light and he was attentive. Like moving quietly, however, there's an added level when one does something like this in combat. If I needed to adjust on the fly, it would be easier to do with some space for them to compensate.
Though, when I said "alone", I guess that included Dogmeat. Because he stayed on my hip the entire time. He'd proven capable in tight situations and given his dexterity and awareness, he wouldn't be a hindrance if things went sideways.
Hopefully.
By the time two minutes ticked by, we'd put about 100 meters between us and the road. By then, we had begun our climb to the crest of the hill. Considering we'd been talking less than half that distance from the crest without trees between us and the Crawler to attenuate the sound, it should be enough to avoid notice.
It was a balancing act. If I was right about the area around this thing that would be devoid of other wildlife, or at least wildlife that would risk attacking us, we couldn't go too far before we risked running into Gulpers, wolves, Ghouls, or whatever else this island wanted to throw at us.
Around the time we made it to the crest, I'd resorted to using my arms as much as my legs to move. Bracing myself against trees, careful to avoid making sound as I did, helped mitigate some of the sliding. Between the wet ground and inconsistent undergrowth, there were still a few times my boots tried sliding out from under me but it was much easier to compensate for when I had a handhold.
I checked the others every 30 seconds or so, and they kept pace with Longfellow in front of the trio. Nate had taken up the rear. If I had to guess, the ex-soldier had done that to act as guard and avoid taking one of the others with him if he slipped.
While he wasn't struggling the way he had in our first venture off the road, I still saw him slip almost every time I looked back. He was doing his best to keep quiet, though which was admirable given the mechanical limitations of that armor and the sounds of its assist systems which were even audible to me.
Hopefully, the trees and distance would be enough to avoid notice.
Once we crested, the journey became much easier. Without having to brace myself, I could keep both hands on my rifle and dedicate the attention I had been paying to my footing back to our surroundings. Nothing had changed besides the Fog, which was now thick enough to hide anything beyond 50 meters. It was still completely silent, other than whatever sounds the three of them made, and the trees crowding around us and looming over us in the haze were still foreboding.
It wasn't until we were well past the Crawler I began back toward the road.
About halfway back, however, I spotted a distinctly rectangular shape through the trees and Fog—a building. It was small, maybe five meters wide and three meters tall.
A checkpoint?
Holding up a fist, I signaled the others to stop.
Checkpoint might mean Feral Ghouls. I learned a while ago, those annoying bastards liked to stay around manmade infrastructure. Maybe something about their past selves was still in the fried remains of their brain.
Whatever the reason, I wasn't about to go through the last 10 minutes of aggravation, trudging through this forest, not to mention avoiding a potentially interesting fight, just to have that work ruined by some of those things.
Dogmeat and I crept toward the checkpoint. From 40 meters away, I couldn't make out any details through the Fog. There was nothing else in the forest around.
Those dreams…
That's right, between the strange, almost hyper-real tone the Fog lent the forest, as well as the complete, oppressive silence, this felt a lot like one of those dreams in the school.
Main difference was being surrounded by centuries-old trees in a forest that had ground more like a mud pit than dirt.
My eyes roamed our surroundings as we approached the shape in the Fog. As we got closer, details became more clear: it was painted… what might have been white in the past but had faded to a brownish tinge. The wood underneath had begun splintering long ago and some of the resulting holes were large enough for me to see through to the other side. Its roof had collapsed at some point in the last 200 years. Some of it was lying in piles around the shack and some, I assumed, had crumbled inside. Other than that, the area on the side I could see was bare.
Even so, I slipped 20 meters up the road before beginning to round toward its front.
Once I was back on the pavement, I could see the shack had been a checkpoint in the distant past. There were remains of a gate on the ground, and the street-facing side of the building had what looked like a ticket window.
But it was clear.
I took a deep breath and checked the road behind me. The Fog was noticeably thinner the further from the Crawler it got and I saw the road start climbing a shallow grade about 100 meters away—probably the last part of the climb Longfellow had been talking about.
After one more check to make sure no surprises were waiting, I retraced my steps until I could see the forms of my companions. We resumed our journey and rejoined the road a few minutes later.
"Is this far enough?" I asked, voice barely a whisper.
Old Longfellow looked back up the road toward where the Crawler had been.
"Should be", he replied with a nod.
"Good." I pointed toward the gentle slope ahead of us. "That the last hill."
He nodded again. "Yup. Think we mighta' just set a record for gettin' to Acadia."
Nate groaned. "Don't say that. Every time someone says something like that, something bad happens."
What? I cocked my head at the infantryman. "You're superstitious?"
"No", Nate fired back. "It's called 'experience'."
I shrugged and turned to start up the hill. If we were this close, I wanted to get it done. I'd asked Preston for a week. If we could find our lead in less than a day, it would give us time to put a real plan together. A real plan meant better chances of success. Not only would it give us time to establish communications, I'd be able to work through exactly what I want with Li's people. That would make my life much easier.
Longfellow fell in beside me, along with Dogmeat, while Valentine and Nate brought up the rear.
Not long after we started up the hill, the Fog began to thin. The forest around us grew more and more visible and the sky above drew into view past the trees hanging over the roadway. There wasn't much to see, considering it was mostly cloudy, but it was there.
Before we could make it more than a few hundred meters up the slope, a cacophony of howls exploded behind us. It was followed by a strange, gurgling roar-
And the loud crash I'd heard before.
All of us stopped and turned toward the commotion.
"Looks like some wolves found our friend back there", Longfellow said, half chuckling. "Glad we got outta there."
Almost there. "Keep moving."
We resumed our march and, not long after, the Fog was completely gone.
While I wasn't sure I'd call it a relief, something about the Fog, and its omnipresence, was disconcerting. I didn't know if the fight with the trappers was still bothering me or the fact it could produce things like the Crawler. It just felt…
Wrong. As stupid as that was to say.
"Guys…" I heard Nick call from behind. "Can, uh, can we hold up a minute?"
Turning back to the two of them, Valentine stopped a few meters behind Nate. His glowing eyes looked past me, fixed on the top of the hill that had drawn into view.
"Of course", the ex-soldier said. "Getting to Acadia…" There was something in his voice as he trailed off, a quality I've heard on a few occasions. I could even picture the frown on his face as he spoke. The last time was when we were talking in the store room before the breakout. It wasn't patronizing, it was… genuine interest and understanding. Whatever concerned you concerned him too.
It was something I didn't think I could ever do.
Nick didn't answer immediately. His gaze was still locked on the top of the hill. We were close to Acadia, somewhere the Synth might get some answers, something he'd spent a long time searching for.
And now they might have been there, a few minutes away.
Even if I didn't know exactly how he felt, I could guess. There was an opportunity to learn about his past, how he got out of the Institute, and who he is- or was. If he'd given up looking for answers and... If I were in his position, I don't know if I would be more scared that I'd find the answers there or I wouldn't.
"Five minutes", I said. The limit was more to let them know we were on the clock than anything. If they took six, I wasn't going to complain.
I jerked my head up the hill. "We need to make sure the area's clear."
Longfellow cocked an eyebrow but didn't object. He followed Dogmeat and up further up the hill, away from the two of them.
"Your buddy there… Nick", our guide said. "He's an old Synth."
Quite the observation… "Yes", I replied, doing my best impression of Nate's dry sarcasm.
After marching another 50 meters up the hill, I moved to the left side of the road and began scanning the forest. Without the Fog obstructing our view, sightlines were about 100 meters before the trees were too thick to see through.
"I know you said you're here to get to the Institute but I'm wonderin'... is Nick lookin' for Acadia for his own reasons?"
I glanced over at Longfellow. He was still standing in the middle of the street, watching Nate and the detective talk.
What Nick is wasn't a mystery to anyone; it isn't like can hide it. As far as I know, he doesn't want to hide it. But, when it comes to his past before ending up in Boston, I don't know much about him. He doesn't know much. That's why this meeting was so important to him. It's why he's so nervous about coming here. I've never seen Nick Valentine hesitant to do anything and that included hunting down Kellogg with me. At the time, he only knew that I fought my way through the Triggermen to save him. Kellogg may have been a regular human, for the most part, but the now-dead mercenary had a long trail of bodies and an even longer reputation, from what I know. At the time, Nick didn't know who or what I was. That didn't stop him from volunteering to come along.
So, if he was worried about doing something, it was notable.
And it wasn't my place to tell anyone else why.
"If he wants you to know, he'll tell you", I said before marching to the other side of the street. It was a similar story: good sightlines out to 100 meters, all clear.
Longfellow bringing it up did give me a question. "What do you know about Acadia?"
"Oh… not a whole lot. They keep to themselves, mostly. Gave us the Fog Condensers which was nice. Other than that, nothin'." He grunted. "You gotta know why your buddy's so worked up about bein' here. It ain't because you're goin' to the Institute, I can tell that much."
"It's his story, not mine."
"Eh", the old man mumbled. "Don't matter whose story it is. Story's a story. Everyone thinks they've got a special one."
I rolled my eyes behind my visor and turned back to him. Nick is a prototype third-generation Synth. An artificial intelligence in an artificial body that, somehow, ended up in a post-apocalyptic Boston and has spent his time here working as a detective. If anyone has a unique or special story, it's Nick fucking Valentine.
"Feel free to keep whatever other thoughts you have about it to yourself", I replied.
Longfellow shot me a bemused grin. "Ain't you a joy to talk to."
"I'm an asshole, I don't pretend to be anything else. Especially when people irritate me." That wasn't quite true. I did try to be better around some. This guy, he was starting to piss me off. What made it worse was he's sticking with us until this is over. I wasn't going to risk him leaking what we're doing here and it wasn't like I was willing to hurt or kill him. That might have been something I did six months ago, but not anymore.
"That supposed to be threatenin'?" He asked. "You already said you'd kill me if I talked to anyone about why you're here. Not like you can do much more."
Oh, don't test me. "If we're close to Acadia, I can tie you up and gag you." That was only half-sarcastic.
He chuckled. "Don't threaten me with a good time."
That… got me to smile. Begrudgingly.
Despite his apparent nonchalance, Longfellow went quiet and began studying our surroundings. It was quiet again. Whatever fight that started between the Crawler and those wolves was over, and the only sounds I could hear were breathing and the faint whispers between Nate and Valentine.
The Fog was visible down the slope we'd been climbing. It was almost like a wall, a few hundred meters away. Behind that wall was some truly weird shit. Even for this funhouse version of my reality.
A few minutes later, the other two began toward us. Hopefully, whatever understanding they'd come to, Nick was satisfied.
Once they got near, we resumed our march. The rest of the climb was uneventful and, a few minutes later, we crested the hill.
And it didn't take a genius to figure out we'd arrived at Acadia.
In front of us was a wide wall, maybe two and a half meters tall, with a doorway in the middle of the road. Beyond it was, what looked like, an old observatory. In my universe, observatories were more novelties than scientific instruments. They were relics from before humanity could travel the stars. Massive structures with telescopes set as high up and as far away from light sources as possible to minimize light pollution and atmospheric interference.
This one looked like it had been spared from any adverse effects of the war. The only signs of damage were that of neglect: pockmarked concrete, rusted steel railings, and much of what looked like might be important was repaired.
"I'm sure they already know we're here", Longfellow said. "Probably been watchin' us since we got outta the Fog."
Valentine stopped next to me, staring past the wall, up at the relic of a pre-War world. He stayed silent, glowing orange-yellow eyes locked on our objective. It occurred to me this mission had suddenly become a very different thing for him. Yes, he was there to help us reach the Institute but now that we were here, this might be an opportunity for him to learn who he was- or is. I'm not sure how that worked for a Synth.
"You ready?" I asked quietly.
He shook his head. "Probably not." The detective's voice was low and distracted.
I'd never heard him sound like that before.
"Nate doesn't need me in there", I said. "I can wait out here with you after we're secure."
Biting his lower lip, Nick shook his head again. "Nah. Not gonna ask you to do that."
"You aren't. I'm offering."
The Synth grunted. "Smartass. Waiting won't make this any easier. Let's do this."
I nodded and marched toward the doorway. No tripwires, no pressure plates unless they knew how to hide them under concrete, and no optical sensors.
Longfellow had said they were peaceful but I'm not taking the word of someone I've known for a few hours.
Inside the perimeter, even the brush and leaves had been swept, leaving the small parking lot I found myself standing in strangely clean.
The building's main entrance was up a short flight of stairs directly ahead of us. This felt wrong. There was no one on watch. No one standing guard. How would they defend in case of an attack?
"Longfellow", I said. "Have you been in there before?"
"No sir, I haven't had the pleasure", he replied. "I've led a few folks here over the years, though. This is the right place."
Yeah, I gathered that from the well-maintained buildings and grounds. Thanks.
Pushing the aggravation away, I approached the staircase, alarms going off in my head.
Just before I could reach them, I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. My rifle was up, scope centered on the entrance.
"Don't shoot", someone called from the other side, "we mean you no harm. You are welcome here as long as you come in peace." The voice was oddly monotonous. Every word was carefully pronounced as if whoever was speaking took the time to consider each syllable before allowing it to be heard.
"Please lower your weapons and I will permit you entrance."
The alarms were still blaring as I looked around the building for signs of an observer. Did they have cameras? Well-disguised watch positions?
I waved the others off to the side. If something was about to go sideways, I'd rather be the only one caught in it. At least I could get out if need be.
Once they'd positioned themselves out of the door's line of sight, I lowered the Mk-18. As soon as I did, a latch clanged on the other side of the entrance, and the old steel door swung open.
Standing behind it was a man- or a Synth. There would be no way to tell the difference. He looked a little older than Nate, maybe in his late 30s or early 40s, with shoulder-length brown hair around a strangely serene-looking face. He was in a blue jumpsuit, not unlike the ones I've seen UNSC technicians wear.
"You and your friends are welcome in Acadia, stranger. No need to be alarmed." He waved inside. "Come in, Dima prefers to personally meet all newcomers."
Nate started toward me cautiously. Longfellow and Nick were right behind him, probably using the ex-soldier and his armor as impromptu cover.
If I was leading this little excursion, I'd take the risk.
Climbing the stairs, I stopped in front of the man and peered over him and into the observatory. Through the door was a long, well-lit hallway. As with everything else, it was clean, free of the debris and garbage I'd come to associate with pre-war buildings. At the far end was the observatory's main chamber. I… wasn't sure what it was called. Not something I'd ever taken the time to learn. Not too important for killing things and surviving.
"My name is Terrance", the Synth said. "This way."
'Terrance' turned and walked back down the hallway. I ducked through the door and followed him.
Like the rest of this mountain, the observatory's interior was quiet. The loudest sound was Nate walking on the building's tile floor, his armor's massive weight not damped by any of the hard surfaces.
I kept my rifle down across my chest, but ready. Something about this place… it didn't feel right. Maybe it was an extension of my unease on this island. I don't know.
When we emerged into the building's main chamber, I was greeted with computer banks ringing the room on the main floor and the walkway above. They were all on and running, but none of them were as interesting as the person sitting in the telescope's chair.
And I was using the word 'person' generously. It was a Synth, obviously not a third generation. The Synth was bare-chested, likely not by choice. There were wires, tubes, and old circuitry protruding from its skin. That skin was exactly like Nicks: it looked more plastic than human, with pitting and weathering that didn't have the benefits of healing. Plenty of it had been torn off or degraded into nothing over time, exposing the mechanical skeleton and additional circuitry beneath.
"Welcome to Acadia", the Synth said as he stood. "I am DiMA." His legs were- well, they weren't bare, I don't think. They had some kind of exo-frame over a black cloth wrapped around what I assumed was their mechanical structure. "Terrance, thank you for greeting our guests. I will take things from here."
The Synth's voice was odd, soft and monotonous, but it carried a careful, soothing quality. It was like he was trying to put us at ease. The problem was, between his appearance and… something about his tone that wasn't quite right, it was having the opposite effect.
My companions stopped behind me as Terrance headed to a door on the far side of the chamber.
"Since I am sure you do not appreciate having your time wasted, allow me to begin", the old Synth continued after the door clanged shut. "You have come from the Commonwealth, arrived in Far Harbor only a few hours ago, and immediately came here. Since I know the Institute would not send ones such as yourselves to find us", eyes that were almost entirely white drifted to my left, "certainly not with Nick Valentine, I assume it is to request something of me."
My heart beat ever so slightly harder. DiMA did know Nick. They were both prototype Synths, it made sense but…
Nick might be able to get answers.
Nate stepped beside me and his armor produced a soft clank before hissing open.
That hadn't been part of the plan. I turned to see the ex-soldier climbing out of the suit.
"It's fine", Nate said, preempting my protest. The ex-soldier turned to the patchwork Synth and stepped forward. "My name's Nate. I'm guessing you have people in town that reported us."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Nate." DiMA nodded. "And yes, we were made aware of an unknown trio's arrival just before the Gulper attack." His eyes shifted to Nick again. "Nick I- it is good to see you after all of this time."
When I glanced at the detective, he had his arms crossed over his chest, slowly shifting weight from foot to foot.
"Wish I knew why that was", he finally said.
"… It is no surprise you do not remember me." He motioned to himself. "These bodies are prototypes. They were never designed to handle a lifetime's worth of memories. Even my extensive modifications have only been able to add so much."
"You're saying I can't remember you 'cause my head ran out of space?"
DiMA opened his mouth to answer. He stopped himself before the words could come out. His gaze drifted back to me, then Nate. "I apologize if this is too forward, but it is my assumption you did not come here to learn of my past with Nick. Unless whomever you are with has both substantial resources and no other tasks to occupy your time, this is not for a trip down memory lane."
Nate looked over at Valentine, who was still watching DiMA.
"That's right", the ex-soldier replied slowly. "But this is still an opportunity for Nick to learn about his past, which we wouldn't mind taking if we have the time."
Our host nodded. "Of course, to be reunited with Nick after a century—I never expected the good fortune to come my way. What is it you are looking for?"
"Two things: Kasumi Nakano, and a way into the Institute."
"… Ah. The Institute." DiMA frowned. "Why, may I ask, are you attempting to gain entry into the Institute?"
"They've released a disease into the Commonwealth and they're the only ones with a treatment for it."
"I see. This disease is serious, considering you have traveled here to find me. Since I assume, it was not by chance you found your way here, it must be that you were made aware of our presence." The synthetic skin that was his face stretched as the old Synth frowned. "As that is not freely available information, I must inquire as to how you obtained it. This may be a serious security concern for Acadia."
Nate let out a harsh breath through his nose as he placed his hands on his hips. I could see the question running through his head. Would telling DiMA we'd been in and with the Institute before, and received said information from someone still there, be a good idea?
He turned to meet my eyes.
It was a good question- one I didn't have the answer to. Information security wasn't the concern at this point. We were now worried about the direct consequences of revealing said information. I didn't know how DiMA would react. Normally, I'd say Nate was the far better option for that question, but that may not be the case right now. Who the hell knows how the Synth might react?
I shrugged.
Nate frowned.
"DiMA", Nick said, "we found out from a contact in the Institute."
… Shit.
"A contact within the Institute", the Synth said slowly, as if he were carefully thinking each word's meaning and delivery through before giving it voice. "The Institute is aware of our location."
DiMA's tone, as it had been since we arrived, was neutral and emotionless. His cadence said he was anything but. Even I could tell that much.
"We aren't with the Institute", Nick continued before Nate or I could interject. "There's a group working to subvert the leadership and change how they do business. That's part of the reason we're trying to get inside. Our mission isn't just to get that treatment out to people. Damon here's an expert in infiltration and assassination. His job is to knock off the bosses. I'm… guessing you know about a mercenary named Kellogg?"
Valentine almost spat the man's name.
"I do", DiMA nodded, "but I would like to ask a few more things before we get to that. This group, who are they and how did they discover our location?"
"They're led by a former Brotherhood of Steel scientist named Madison Li", Nate replied. "She was with them in the Capital Wasteland when they brought Project Purity online. She left the Brotherhood when their current Elder came into power and began changing the organization. Sh- Father picked her up once he realized her potential. After Madison learned about the experiments the Institute was running on the people of the Commonwealth, and what they were doing with and to Synths, she decided she couldn't sit by and do nothing. She runs the Advanced Research Division, so she has a lot of people and resources."
"And you are sure you can trust her?"
The ex-soldier nodded. "It's a… long story", he glanced at me, "but there were a lot of very sensitive events over the past few months and, if Li wanted to do something to me, she'd have done it."
"Is it possible she may be utilizing you?"
No. That wouldn't make sense at this point.
"No", I interjected, shaking my head. "We work with the Railroad and now are in contact with you. The only threat the Institute might consider larger than that is the Brotherhood and, if they were going to use us to neutralize them, we wouldn't be here. If they wanted to destroy this place, they wouldn't have sent us to find a way to get into the Institute, they would have sent a force of Coursers."
DiMA gazed at me for a heartbeat before nodding. "All logical statements and yet I still find myself in doubt. To hear our location is known to the Institute despite the measures we've taken to remain hidden is… concerning."
"I understand that", Nick said, "but like I said, this isn't just about getting that treatment. If you help us get into the Institute, we're gonna take out their leadership."
"And if the new leadership decides we are an unacceptable risk?"
That was a good question. I didn't know Li long but, from what I do know, she isn't interested in maintaining what the Institute is or has been. None of the moves she's made would make sense if that were the case. Plus, if that was the goal, the easiest way to do it would be to have us eliminate Acadia. We aren't doing that and, unless one of us somehow picked up a transponder they can track without satellite coverage, they wouldn't know where to go.
Not true. Li's people know Acadia's on this Island.
Right. And, if we convince them to help us, it's possible they'd trust us enough to stay put which would mean if Li wanted to wipe them out, she knew where to look.
Which meant, if we were gonna convince them to help us, we needed to convince them of Li's trustworthiness.
Or our ability to prevent any backlash.
"There's nothing we could say that'd convince you", Nick replied. "What we can do is promise to make sure the current leadership isn't in any position to get back at you. It isn't fair for us to ask, showing up out of nowhere like this, but tens of thousands of people are counting on us to get into the Institute and get them that medicine. You're the only shot we have. It'd be too late even if we could figure out another way."
DiMA didn't respond. His brownish-white eyes were fixed on Nick. The two Synths watched each other, myself, Nate, and Old Longfellow quiet. The only sound in the large chamber was the computer banks humming away.
The statement wasn't shocking or unfounded. It was probably the best thing any of us could have said. He was right: we didn't have any way of convincing them they weren't in danger.
The magnitude of our task was just that large.
He was also right that this wasn't fair. These people weren't part of our problems and yet here we were, dumping all of this on their front step.
What other choice did we have?
"Nick", DiMA finally said, voice low, "I believe you. Not for the sake of you being my brother, but I believe the three of you would not have traveled here from the Commonwealth with no intent to harm us if it were not under the most dire of circumstances." He turned to Nate. "The risk you are asking us to take is enormous. If we helped and this did fail, we would not know until it was too late, and it would mean the destruction of Acadia. What guarantee can you provide that a small group would be able to infiltrate the Institute and wipe out their leadership?"
My eyebrows rose behind my visor. He didn't sound convinced, or maybe that's how I read his soft, neutral voice, but it sounded like he was at least considering it.
Nate motioned at me. "Damon is our man for that. He's-" The ex-soldier looked at me. "Well, that might be a better question for him."
Oh, great.
DiMA followed Nate's gaze. "You are the combat specialist?"
I nodded.
"Nick mentioned Kellogg earlier. I am… aware of his existence and his exploits. I am also aware no new stories have developed in several months. I assume, since Nick brought him up in discussing your combat abilities, you terminated him and that is why I have not heard anything of him. Is this correct?"
I nodded again. "Yeah. We tracked him to Fort Hagen. I eliminated him and the force of Synths guarding him."
It was DiMA's turn to nod. "Regardless of my opinion on the relevance of this situation, I appreciate your efforts. That man was a menace."
Yeah, I've heard this line before.
"That isn't my only experience in assassination", I said before he could get to the 'but'. "A list of my exploits won't convince you, just like we can't convince you of Li's trustworthiness."
How was I supposed to put this…?
"We have resources inside the Institute to help once we've infiltrated. We have additional resources outside the Institute in the Minutemen and Railroad that could have assisted as well. They sent the three of us." That wasn't strictly true. We had input on that decision. "I'm confident in my ability to accomplish my objective. I wouldn't be risking the lives of my friends or the success of this mission if I thought otherwise."
"Your thoughts aren't a guarantee of success."
"True." I nodded. "You're aware of the risk we're dealing with. Those involved in making this decision wouldn't have made it if they weren't certain I could do my job. I know what my role is and what we lose if I don't succeed. We're dealing with a major threat. No one, including me, benefits from me lying. I die if I fail."
DiMA, again, didn't reply immediately. His eyes were fixed on me now. Everything I said was true. I know what kind of pressure I'm under. I know how much the Minutemen are counting on me.
There are too many things I still need to do and too many people I want to… fix things with.
The last thing I'm gonna do now is lose my chance to do them, not after everything that's happened.
"I will need time to consult. While I do", the Synth pointed back down the hallway we'd entered from. "There is a staircase beside the entrance. It will take you down to the main living area. Kasumi is likely in the basement. You may speak with her or any of our other residents, as you please. And you can leave your pack here if you like. It will be safe." He looked back at Nick. "And, Nick, I sincerely mean seeing you again is a blessing I never thought I would receive. No matter what happens, I would very much like time to speak with you."
Valentine hesitated, gaze lingering on the other Synth.
"I… hope I can feel the same way after we talk."
The ghost of a smile slipped across DiMA's battered face. "So do I."
With that, the Synth left for somewhere hidden behind a bank of computers. A few seconds later, I heard a door open, and then shut.
Next Chapter: 1/3, ... To the Summit