A/N: I'm sorry! Look, between writing this, A Better Tomorrow, and the current rewrite for the earlier chapters (along with everything in my side-life outside of writing) I forgot to post this yesterday. Sue me. But that oversight is being corrected. I think we've given the crew a long enough break from being put through the meat grinder. This development is something I've had in the works for a while. A few hints here and there. It's important, as I've said before, that the world keeps moving regardless of where Damon, Nate, Cass, Brenda, and all the other main people are. They're important players, yes, but things still happen without them. Aaaanyway, that's enough of that. Leave a review, the feedback is always appreciated and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 93: A Sickness
Nate was trying to have more confidence in Damon. In a fight, he knew it was more sane to doubt the sun would rise than the SPARTAN would lose (okay, that might not be true, he's lost several fights in the time Nate has known him but still…). In an interaction where diplomacy was required…
Well, the ex-soldier had good reason to hold onto his reservations.
So, when Damon emerged from the basement and ordered them back to the truck, his first thought was 'it was a good plan'. Once they reached their transportation, and Nate reinstalled the battery, Damon told them the basement was a go, Nate's jaw almost hit the floor. Metaphorically speaking. Or so he thought. The amused tilt of the armored soldier's head told him it hadn't only been a thought.
"You have to admit", Nate said as he pulled the driver-side door open with a soft creak and Dogmeat excitedly hopped inside, "My surprise is justified."
Damon climbed into the truck's bed. "Do I?"
"Unless you want to lie to yourself…" the ex-soldier muttered.
There was a hard pound on the roof of the truck.
Jackson pulled himself in and closed the door. "I think he heard you."
"You don't say." Nate grinned as he started the truck's ancient but still functional, heart. It burbled to life with the characteristic thrum of a diesel engine. "I could get used to this again. Hopefully, we have enough fuel to make it last."
"Not like we have many trucks, and people weren't exactly using gas regularly after the world ended."
The ex-soldier shifted the truck into gear and pulled the truck to the garage's exit. Damon jumped down from the bed and paced to the opening.
"Diesel", Nate said. "Gas is different."
Jackson frowned. "Semantics? From you?"
"No." Nate shook his head. They're different things. There was a car-nut in my platoon back before all this," he motioned toward the exit. I guess not a 'car nut'. He was into lifted trucks. Apparently, his dad owned a tuning shop over on the West Coast. Guy hated it when people called diesel 'gas'."
Damon waved them forward, and Nate lifted off the brake. The truck crept out into the afternoon sun, and the SPARTAN swung himself back into the bed.
"Thank you for that useless piece of information, Nate", Jackson said, but the ex-soldier watched the man shoot him a smile out of the corner of his eye.
"Well, if we're gonna keep these things running, it's important we put the right fuel in them. You think the Institute would be able to make diesel?"
The former scientist nodded. "Yeah. They already can. We learned how to synthesize fuel using carbon monoxide and hydrogen about 50 years before the War."
"No shit", Nate said and glanced at Jackson. "Then what was all that stuff about fuel shortages?"
He turned them back onto the main road. The buildings on either side were, like always, decrepit, many collapsing or already gone. What was left of them either filling the space left between their neighbors with a pile of what they were made of, or spilling out in the street. Same with the various crumbling husks that used to be cars.
It wasn't a new sight, he'd walked through this damn place enough in the last few months. Driving through it felt… different. This is how he was used to seeing most of the city: not on foot, driving.
"From what I know? People trying to squeeze every dollar they could out before everything went up in flames."
Nate huffed. "What's the point if it all 'went up in flames'?" The ex-soldier steered the truck between two long, low mounds of rubble.
"Your guess is as good as mine. People use bottle caps as currency now. Money's only as good as how much we believe in it."
The ex-soldier scanned the buildings around them. Nothing had tried to kill them on the way in but that was no guarantee of safety. Once he found a clear side road, he'd turn off. He might not be a secret agent, but he knew taking the same path out as they had in was a bad idea.
"Philosophy, huh? That's what you're gonna torture me with this time?"
Jackson barked a laugh. "Like hell. I'm a scientist, not a philosopher."
"I don't know…" Nate teased, "seems like you have an opinion on this."
"Well, yeah. The people in charge that led the world to this point were probably safe, tucked away in a Vault or their own little bunkers while everyone else got blown up, killed by radiation poisoning, starved, or who the hell knows what else. And now we have to fight to survive every day?" He grunted. "Damn right I have an opinion on this."
The ex-soldier shot him a smile. "You sound like one of those anti-government protesters that were on the news every day before the bombs dropped."
"I'm not anti-government. I'm anti-stupid."
That got a laugh out of Nate. "Touche."
The two of them fell quiet as Nate weaved his way between obstacles in the road. About half a mile later, he turned down a side street and started weaving his way toward the Boston University Bridge.
Just like the way in, their journey out was uneventful. The quiet let his mind turn to their upcoming operation: meeting with and extracting Brotherhood defectors. Their only source on this was Haylen. Damon met with her; Nate had been in the Institute during that episode. Danse seemed to trust her, and unless Maxson was playing a game way beyond any of them, Danse felt trustworthy.
We'll find out if he is…
Even if he was a little irritated with himself for thinking it, Nate was glad he wouldn't be at the meet. He was glad he'd be on the sniper team with Damon. It wasn't just for the safety of being around the SPARTAN. It was that, for once, he wouldn't be the one in a direct line of fire if and when things went wrong.
Nate had spent enough time, including recently, in that position. He wasn't too proud to admit he didn't mind letting someone else take that position.
Once they were out of the city proper, Nate could pick up the pace. They weren't short on time, he just wanted as much time as they could get to finish their planning. This was already a slap-dash job. He was more than capable of improvising (despite Damon's teasing), he trusted the people the Railroad was sending, including Glory, would be good at it too. They all knew Damon would have no problem.
That being said, there was always a nervousness in the back of the ex-soldier's mind when they had to rely on improvisation. Even the most experienced and talented people could make the wrong call in a high-stress situation. The cure for that was a sound plan and good execution.
They had the execution. Nate wasn't sure about the plan.
No, that wasn't right. He was sure about the plan. He was sure there was no way something with these many moving parts, and based on these many assumptions, would go off without a hitch. The infantryman had spent too long in hostile environments and in fights to think it would.
So then the next questions were: what contingencies could they put in place for that and what could they be sure of before starting this?
Driving back through the suburbs- or what used to be the suburbs- toward his house, except in a post-apocalyptic version of that situation, was eerie. He wasn't on his way back to find Nora and Shaun there. He was on his way back to continue planning a mission in his hometown.
He had to stop himself from pushing Nora and Shaun, the Shaun he remembered, the baby- his Shaun, out of mind. The ex-soldier knew friends, other vets, who did that. It drove them crazy. Nate might be many things, but crazy isn't one of them.
Well… not entirely crazy.
And, more than that, he owed both of them more than that. Nothing that happened was their fault. Hell, Nora had been trying to protect-
BOOOOOOM!
Nate had to fight his next breath through the lump in his throat. The sound of that .44 magnum going off in the small metal box would haunt him for the rest of his life. Even though he'd been sealed in his own cryogenic chamber, it was so loud his ears rang.
Even if the ex-soldier appreciated Damon had put that bastard in the ground, part of him would always feel cheated it wasn't him.
Valentine had been right, though: no one better to do the job than the SPARTAN… Hell, neither of them was even injured killing Kellogg.
After a few minutes of quiet, dwelling on his wife and son, Nate shook himself out of it. He didn't push them away- he could never do that to them- but he had to focus on what was in front of him. He had to focus on the mission.
The ex-soldier was good at that, even after all this time.
I guess that's a good thing now. The thought wasn't as bittersweet as he thought it'd be.
"Do you think it would be a good idea to have a team on standby in case things go wrong?" Jackson asked after about 15 minutes of silence.
Nate frowned. "Conventional wisdom would say yes…"
"... But…?" Jackson asked.
"I'm not sure here." That could be a contingency they put in place but, with Damon, Nate, Glory, Pam, and Victor, they had most of the Minutemen's best fighters. Then again, a QRF on standby, if something did happen, could buy them a little time and space if they needed it.
"Something to bring up with everyone. I'd say it's a good idea but I'm also not used to planning clandestine operations like this. I don't know what's taboo and what isn't."
The dark-skinned man nodded. "Fair enough."
"I'm guessing you want to be on it", Nate said.
"And I want to lead it."
The ex-soldier glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. That didn't surprise him; Jackson had taken to the training back when they were with the Institute. He'd taken the initiative in organizing and executing their training. Nate had even put him in charge of a team or two back before they left. While the ex-soldier wasn't sure he was leadership material, Jackson seemed to want the responsibility. Seemed fit for it, too.
But he was going to be honest with the man.
"They might want someone with more experience leading a support team for this operation. We'll have to see what everyone thinks about the idea to start."
Jackson nodded. He didn't seem disappointed. If anything, he looked focused. It was an expression Nate knew, not just from Jackson. It was good to see. It didn't mean he'd get his way.
They reached the road parallel to the river with a mile left to go. Another memory from a past life, driving to their house, Nora cradling Shaun on the way home from the hospital. She was exhausted, with long, slow blinks, and her head lolled to one side. Nate had seen that look a thousand times before.
She couldn't take her eyes off of Shaun, though.
"I'm still wondering if this is for real", Nate mused. "There could be so many ways this goes wrong."
Jackson nodded. "We don't have any way of making sure this isn't some scheme."
The ex-soldier nodded as Sanctuary came into view around a bend in the hillside. His neighborhood-turned-settlement looked nothing like it did when he lived there, and not because the world had ended. The amount of fortification was incredible, from the armored platforms and shooting positions to the floodlighting they had on standby. It was a pretty good setup. And that's without talking about the agriculture. Every square inch that could be dedicated to crops was.
"Yeah, but that's why we're playing this so carefully. Don't want to get caught with our pants down again." He grunted. "Doesn't mean something bad can't still happen."
"Do you think it will?" the former scientists asked.
"I don't know", Nate said with a shrug. "Best we can do is make sure our poop's in a group and keep our eyes open."
Jackson laughed. "Poop's in a group. Don't think I've heard that one before."
Nate brought the truck to a stop just on the south side of the bridge. "Oh, I've got plenty of 'em."
He killed the engine and swung the door open. Dogmeat bolted from his spot between Nate and Jackson and bounded down to the ground. The damn dog always seemed so happy and excited to be alive. Unless they were working. It always got a smile out of the ex-soldier.
As he followed Dogmeat out, Damon dropped to the asphalt beside him. That there was only the slightest tremor despite his armor's weight was uncanny.
"A little over two hours until the meet. What are your thoughts?" They began walking to the gate.
"Same as yours", the SPARTAN replied. "This could be an ambush. We have to play this safe."
So he'd been listening in. "The opportunity's too good to pass up, though", the ex-soldier finished.
Damon nodded.
"You feeling up to it?"
"I'm still a few days away from being completely operational. Probably another week and a half from being healed." He shrugged. "I'll make it work. I should be able to run on my leg if I need to." Damon patted a pouch on his belt. "I have a few MedX injectors."
"You don't sound excited about that."
"I don't like using drugs to compensate. I screwed up, I shouldn't rely on something else to fix it for me. And it can lead to further injury." The titan glanced down at him. "That being said, I'm not putting my ego before anyone else's safety."
That wasn't something Nate needed to hear to believe.
"What about you?" Damon asked. "It hasn't been long for you either."
"No, it hasn't…" They reached the gate and Jackson pounded on it. "Sore. I'll be alright."
Jackson glanced back at him. "You're still hobbling around like you have a broken leg."
"Sometimes it feels like that."
The gate swung open to admit the four of them. Nate was eager to meet with the others. They were operating against a pretty tight clock. Hopefully, everyone else got what they needed done…
X
Being on a security team was nothing new for Nate. This wasn't the 'security team' he was used to. His version was a platoon of soldiers running close security on a package. It was a lot of hurry-up and wait mixed in with looking for any potential threat for hours. Staying focused on his surroundings in an urban environment, where there were a thousand places someone could shoot him from, was mind-numbing and, a lot of the time, he felt it was useless.
In an operation like that, security comes from numbers and deployment practices.
Instead, he was crouched on the first floor of a medium-sized house, hidden from view behind what was left of a couch. They'd stacked a few large pieces of asphalt behind it to provide limited physical cover, enough to get away in case things went hot.
His job was to keep someone else from sneaking up on them, along with Pam. Damon was on the second floor, providing overwatch for the meet and greet.
That was happening half a mile away, just within sightline for them from the house they'd chosen. It was on the edge of a large suburb Nate didn't remember the name of. It would give them plenty of room to maneuver if they were compromised, something the ex-soldier was incredibly grateful for. He wasn't interested in becoming a POW for the second time in a week.
15 more minutes until their meet-up. Once they did, and verified these really were defectors, Glory would give them a call. It would take 30 seconds to stage the bodies and set a timer on the explosives. The C4 they were using had a 4-minute countdown. That's how long they had to get to the truck, hidden a hundred yards to their north, and get to the house to pick the three of them up.
Once that was done, it was time to haul ass to their overnight stop in the basement full of ghouls.
How exciting.
If everything went off without a hitch, Nate would never have to fire his gun. None of them would.
The plan was meant to make it look like some Brotherhood soldiers got blown up and a few of them were taken. Captured soldiers were a lot better than defectors and, just like their assassination attempt, it would be hard for them to pinpoint who did it.
This is a trick we can only use so many times… Two was probably pushing their luck.
But Nate couldn't disagree with the importance of doing this. If they could get people who had decided to betray the Brotherhood and Maxson, it was worth the risk.
So he stayed behind the couch, Dogmeat beside him, listening more than watching for the sounds of approaching danger. The German Shepherd was lying ready, body in a straight line, head up and ears forward. Damon had said the guy was used to a fight. To Nate, he looked like a veteran soldier: tense and ready without an ounce of the nervous energy he saw from inexperienced fighters.
Pam, the Railroad's Assaultron, was hidden on the other side of the large living room. Most of the furniture had decayed into nothing. The only things that were left, besides Nate's couch, were the TV stand and what looked like a wardrobe set against the far wall.
Why someone would have a wardrobe in their living room, the ex-soldier didn't know.
Nate checked his Pipboy for the time again.
12 minutes.
He wasn't anxious. If anything, Nate was bored. He knew he shouldn't have been, this could be a huge win for them.
But he was, and he'd learned a long time ago, lying to yourself about something like that was pointless.
Maybe he'd been desensitized to the potential consequences of an operation like this over almost two decades of service. It seemed like every other mission they went on was supposed to be a game-changer.
Then again… that was during wars between entire countries, not between parties with, at best, 5000 or 6000 people. Who knows, it's probably different when talking about numbers like that.
It occurred to him there should be some trepidation going on considering he was diving right back into the fight less than a week after escaping the Raiders. Shouldn't there? That had been a rough week.
Who knows, maybe I'm just that jacked up. I went from one traumatizing fight to another back in the day. Then the bomb, Nora, and Shaun… it probably isn't healthy.
Damon had his own break a few days back, maybe one was coming for Nate too. Maybe his lack of nerves here was his brain trying to cope with all that and keep him fighting. No doubt that same thing happened for years in the army.
Despite his best efforts, Nate's mind drifted to what information these soldiers might have. It's so sensitive they wanted to deliver it in person? That sounded like a red flag to him. It had been for Both Danse and Damon too.
Then again, it's possible. They didn't know the Brotherhood's capacity for breaking into their encryption. And Nate wouldn't mind having a few suits of T60 and heavy weapons on their side. Damon was good, and maybe he could win a war against the Brotherhood on his own, but he wasn't alone. They were part of the Minutemen.
Nate shook himself from his thoughts and refocused on the task at hand.
Six minutes.
Five minutes.
Two minutes.
Here we go…
His heart started beating a little faster and a little harder. The boredom started fading away as the infantryman felt the faintest hint of adrenaline teasing into his bloodstream.
They'd scouted the area before establishing their positions. They knew at least the surrounding quarter-mile was clear. They'd hear any approaching Vertibirds from miles away and, even if T60 was a great piece of equipment, it was anything but stealthy. If Brotherhood forces were approaching them, unless they were unarmored, they'd hear it.
One minute.
Damon would let them know with a knock on the floor when contact was-
Two soft raps from the ceiling.
The ex-soldier held his breath. It wasn't entirely voluntary. He counted his heartbeats as the seconds passed. He was waiting for a shot, a call to retreat, anything.
It didn't happen.
He let his breath out slowly and quietly.
A minute passed.
Two more knocks.
They were on their way.
No shooting. No Vertibirds.
There's no way…
This felt too easy considering how everything had been going sideways for the last few weeks. It felt like the setup for a bad joke. It felt like they were being lured in. Were these guys plants? Were they just waiting for an HVT?
Nate checked his Pipboy again. Two minutes gone. That means they had two minutes-thirty until the bomb detonated and things really got started. He'd take over driving. He knew the path they'd take to their hideout. Once they were back across the water, he'd have an almost infinite number of options.
Knowing the city helped a lot in this situation.
The ceiling creaked and, a few seconds later, he just caught the sound of their ride burbling toward them.
Damon came creeping down the stairs. Despite how smoothly he settled his weight on each one, there was only so much you could do with a thousand-plus pounds. They groaned in protest.
Once he neared the bottom, Pam shifted out from behind her cover and trudged to the front door. It was her job to lead them out. Nate obviously would have preferred Damon do it but time was the ultimate form of currency in an operation like this. And you could never get a refund on what you spent.
The ex-soldier followed Pam out of the house with Damon close behind. By the time they were all at the street, the truck had trundled to a stop just past the driveway, the bed open to them.
Their score was in the back of the truck. Only one was still in their power armor. She'd removed her helmet, probably a precaution so, if the now former-Brotherhood soldiers decided to start something, one of them could put an end to it.
She was staring at Damon. It wasn't with the anger or disdain one might expect from an enemy soldier, or the wide-eyed awe that, Damon was right, many of the Minutemen had. No, it was curiosity, or that's what Nate thought, anyway.
After everything that's happened, how is this the op that goes smoothly?
Nate almost slapped himself for thinking that. He wasn't the superstitious type, at least he liked to think so. That being said, it did feel like a jinx. And when you start to think everything's going well, you relax. When you relax, mistakes happen. With the two weeks he's had, the absolute last thing he was gonna do was make a mistake now.
Damon climbed into the truck's bed first. He never took his right hand off his rifle. Dogmeat and Pam followed while the ex-soldier moved to the driver's door. Victor was there, the Railroad agent climbing over to the cab's passenger side.
A few seconds after he'd settled in, there was a pound on the roof and he shifted the truck into gear.
It was all so… smooth. Easy. Everyone knew what they were supposed to do and they did their jobs with the certainty of someone who did it for a living.
Whether it was good or bad, Nate realized, it felt like he was back in the army again as he started toward their hideout. He was taking part in a planned, high-risk operation with a team of professionals.
About a minute and a half until the bomb went off.
Sure, he'd been with Damon for the first few months after he woke up. Whatever else can be said about the SPARTAN, he's good at what he does and anyone around him knows it. This was different. Not only did Nate feel less like he was extra baggage being dragged across the hellscape by the armored titan, this felt much more organized than anything but the few missions he'd gone on with the Institute. And those had been with newbies.
Nate hustled the truck south as fast as he felt safe for everyone in the back. That wasn't very fast considering he was constantly maneuvering around debris, cars, and anything else on the road.
By the time a minute had passed, he managed to get them to the edge of the suburb, only another few minutes from the cover of the city proper.
30 seconds until detonation.
Victor was quiet in the seat beside him, rifle held across his lap, muzzle aimed down and forward. The man's eyes were roaming across the view outside. Houses, apartments, and whatever Nate was dodging whizzed by. It was accompanied by the truck's engine rumbling beneath them and the tires whirring and crunching across the pavement.
15 seconds.
"Shit", Nate snapped as he eased off the throttle and onto the brake. There was a long, broken line in the road ahead of them. The truck had the ground clearance for it but it would be a hard bump for their passengers. "Brace!"
The truck just fell below 20 miles per hour when the front wheels dropped off the edge. It fell for a split second before thudding back to the ground. Then, they hit the opposite side of the break and climbed back up onto the road.
With the dual axles in the rear it, at least, didn't drop into the ditch.
A split second after they crossed the obstruction, the distant sound of a detonation clapped against Nate's ears.
They only had a few minutes until the Brotherhood made it to their staged ambush. After that, the search would be on. They had to be in the city by then.
All they had left ahead of them was a small stretch of wetlands, and then they were in Boston. It's the same roadway he'd crossed with Damon and Jackson a few hours ago. The road was intact enough for passage and relatively clear of obstacles, considering it wasn't a built-up area.
So Nate put his foot down.
The diesel engine roared as if it was eager to run after centuries of sitting dormant. It wasn't fast, the big turbodiesel built to be a workhorse rather than a performance engine, but it was the fastest Nate had moved outside of a Vertibird for the last 250 years.
Unhealthy-looking trees and foliage sped past on either side and, for the first time since this operation started, the ex-soldier felt a wave of excitement. He'd never been a huge car person in his previous life. That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a drive. In fact, there were many times he would take one to clear his head. And, sometimes, those drives might have turned a little… fast.
This one was over too quickly. They crossed the two miles of wetlands in what felt like an instant and he had to slow the truck down as they reached the city.
From there, it was a slow, ponderous journey, picking his way through the obstacle course of collapsed buildings, destroyed cars, and debris. Nate could feel the clock ticking in the back of his head. Two miles, that would have taken them about two minutes, as fast as he'd been driving. It had been another minute to cover the next quarter-mile.
If the Brotherhood wasn't at their little display, they'd be there soon.
Wheeling the big truck around, with its long wheelbase and massive turning radius, in the tight confines of the city was far from the easiest thing he'd done. He had to be careful to avoid running into too much. The truck's chassis could handle the impacts, that wasn't what worried him. The more he hit, the more likely the Brotherhood would be to pick up their trail.
So he slowed to a walking pace at several points, barely fitting the big girl into some gaps, making the gaps big enough to fit for others.
It didn't take his passengers long to recognize the difficulty. Damon jumped out of the bed and started running ahead. He helped guide Nate through narrow sections from the front. Glory helped as much as she could, hanging off one side or the other behind the cab to spot for him.
Unlike in the wetlands, the ex-soldier was painfully aware of the engine's racket. It echoed off of the brick and concrete buildings around them, nothing to attenuate the sound. Without the thrum of a population, built-up city, anyone within a mile would hear it.
Even though he knew he couldn't see them past the buildings that were starting to climb higher and higher around them, Nate kept glancing back to the north. Would the Brotherhood think to come toward the city? Would they suspect someone might have made it that far in that short a time? It had only been a few minutes since the detonation. No one would make that on foot except, maybe, Damon.
If they suspected Damon, they probably wouldn't go out looking for him if they didn't have a good idea about his location. Unless that doctrine had changed since Nate left the Institute.
He strained his ears, trying to pick up the sounds of rotors pounding at the air past the truck's burbling. It was only when he came way too close to a mound of rubble and almost ran the truck up onto it that he pulled his head back to the present.
The Brotherhood wasn't on them yet, they still had time. They were only a mile away from their stop.
Damon was still 50 feet ahead of the truck, keeping pace at what looked like a jog. The only reason Nate knew it wasn't was when he looked down at the speedometer and it read almost 20.
Then again, that might have been a jog for the SPARTAN.
He paused at an intersection for a heartbeat before starting again, weaving between two cars the ex-soldier had to skirt around.
"Wider!" Glory called. Nate steered the truck further left before cutting back to the middle of the road.
Half a mile to go.
Still no sounds of approaching Vertibirds.
This felt wrong. Nate's eyes left the road for a heartbeat to scan their surroundings.
It was too easy. Nothing was ever this easy. They'd never gotten through the city without dealing with some kind of threat. It had usually been Supermutants in situations like this. If they weren't-
Damon twisted to the left and, before Nate's brain had time to register the movement, his rifle barked a trio of rounds.
The ex-soldier's body knew what to do before he did. He wrenched the steering wheel to the right and angled back toward the intersection, heading west. As soon as the truck had come around, he hammered the throttle again.
Their transportation surged forward. He heard a chorus of shouts from the back but he didn't have time to worry about that. Transports like the truck weren't generally armored. He didn't feel like seeing if the sheet metal could stop whatever someone might shoot at him.
Mostly because he knew from experience the answer was "no".
So he raced off as more gunfire sounded behind them. It wasn't just the deep clap from Damon's Mk18. There were higher-pitched, sharper pops that sounded like pistols accompanied by the more violent bang from small-caliber rifles.
In the few seconds it took them to leave view of the intersection, Nate heard something clang. Not hard to imagine they just caught a ricochet or got lucky and a bullet hit them with enough angle to deflect instead of punching through. Whatever the case, Nate wasn't hit so he kept his foot in it until the intersection was long gone.
"Where's Damon?!" he yelled at Victor.
The Railroad operative leaned out of the window. He was only there for a second or two before dropping back to his seat. "Behind us."
Good. The ex-soldier didn't allow himself the relieved breath he wanted to. They weren't done, not even close. They'd just added a few minutes to their trip and that gunfire might have been loud enough to attract more attention. If the Brotherhood was still out of the city, it wouldn't reach them, at least.
Slowing to allow Damon to catch up, Nate leaned out the window once the armored soldier drew even with them.
"Left up here, we'll go down two blocks, take another left and rejoin the road."
Damon nodded and took his place back at the front.
The next intersection was 100 feet away and, like the one they'd just left, was half-clogged with a collection of debris. The buildings around them felt as if they were looming over the truck now. He knew there was a possibility of running into… someone else who might want to put holes in them. Now that it had happened, Nate wasn't too proud to admit his head was telling him every window had another shooter in it.
But he pushed that away. It was a response he'd dealt with countless times. He knew what to look for and he trusted Damon to sniff out more danger.
He just had, after all.
"Check on everyone in back", Nate said as they neared the intersection.
"On it." Victor climbed out of the window again.
The ex-soldier could hear him say something. Glory replied, then the Railroad agent was back in his seat, smiling.
"That hit was the one still in armor."
Nate stole a glance at Victor, eyebrow cocked. "She got hit?"
"Yeah", he said. "She'd been in the back. Something hit her in the leg, apparently."
"HA", the ex-soldier laughed. "Talk about lucky."
Her getting hit probably wasn't luck, at least, not only luck. If she'd been in the back, Nate would guess it was to act as cover for everyone else.
A few seconds later, he steered the truck left and began south again.
Nate's eyes were still roaming the surrounding buildings with a renewed intensity. Every hole or empty window could be a firing position and, with how loud the truck was, anyone looking to take a shot would have plenty of warning.
This hadn't been an issue during their trip earlier in the day. He couldn't help but wonder why.
Because we have valuable people now and of course we'd get attacked at the worst time possible. That's how it always works.
The ex-soldier shook his head. Murphy's law.
A minute later, they were rejoining their initial path. No one else had taken a shot at them and he still couldn't hear any signs of approaching Vertibirds. He wasn't stupid enough to think that meant they were home free.
Time dragged as the last mile crept by. It only took five minutes, but those five minutes felt like an hour.
Every long shadow in the late afternoon sun, on top of the buildings and alleys he was already scanning, could be hiding someone else waiting to ambush them. Even with Damon acting as their point man, the SPARTAN couldn't sniff out every danger. There were too many potential shooting positions.
This creeping tension wasn't something Nate was unaccustomed to, of course. It wasn't his first time driving through a hostile urban environment. He couldn't count how many times he'd been attached to a convoy going into a city and ended up under fire.
It's something you don't get comfortable with.
But, eventually, those five minutes did pass.
Nate pulled the truck into a different underground parking structure than the one from earlier in the day. He couldn't go all the way down; it was half-flooded and he wasn't interested in finding out if the dark, murky pool was irradiated.
He pulled the battery again and hauled it to a large mound of rubble just inside the downward-sloping ramp's entrance.
Then, they were headed for their overnight accommodations.
X
"Open it up", a gravelly, irritated-sounding voice called from behind the rusty, steel door. Their journey through the basement hadn't been as harrowing as last time. Or at all. That didn't mean Nate's mind didn't dredge up the creeping fear that had been clawing at his throat during that first march. As someone who's never had to deal with being blind, the ex-soldier found it incredibly unnerving to not be able to see. Having to sneak through a basement blind with feral ghouls lying around was even worse. There were no ghouls this time, and they'd been able to use their lights.
Nate vividly remembered crossing the steel walkway the first time around. That room felt like it had been the size of a baseball stadium.
It wasn't. That area turned out to be the primary utility room, housing a massive HVAC unit and several water heaters. The catwalk spanned most of it, maybe 50 feet.
"This isn't as big as it felt the first go around", Nate muttered as he swept the barrel of his rifle and, by extension, his flashlight over the room.
The journey itself took a lot less time. The two of them- well, Damon knew where they were going, and they didn't have to sneak through a maze of ghouls.
They reached their destination just a few minutes after descending into the basement.
Damon swung the door open and ducked through. Nate caught a glimpse of the hallway beyond. Their hosts were waiting at the end, rifles in hand. They watched silently as everyone filed in. Glory was the last one through and swung the door shut behind them.
"Alright, Helen", the Railroad soldier said, "out of the armor."
'Helen' looked from her, to Damon, and back. The armored titan was standing beside the group of ghouls. His visor was fixed on their group of defectors.
After a heartbeat's pause, the Brotherhood soldier let out a long breath and nodded. "Okay."
There was a loud hiss, and the rear of the armor unfolded, allowing her to step back and out of the massive suit.
Jesko nodded. "Don't touch anything that ain't yours, and we'll be fine. Damon here told us you're gonna be staying until the morning. We're alright with it but you're out at sun up. Other than that, make yourselves at home."
The group's leader thankfully left out the customary 'we have guns and know how to use them' threat. Whether that was because he trusted them or because he thought them holding those guns was enough, Nate didn't care.
What he did care about was what information these defectors had that was so damn important.
"Damon", Nate said as he stepped beside the SPARTAN, "I think we should figure out what the big deal here is."
His helmet turned from the ex-soldier to the former Brotherhood members as they walked past
Helen wore the customary orange and black jumpsuit their soldiers wore under their T-60. The other two in jumpsuits were men, both young, clean-shaven, and trying their best to look stern. It came off as too deliberate. The other two were another young man, smaller than his compatriots, and an older woman with her graying hair pulled back into a tight braid. Both were in the kit Nate had come to associate with Scribes or Initiates. Considering they were supposed to have important info, he'd guess the former.
"Me too."
They followed the group into the room where the ghouls set up their living quarters. It was exactly the same as it had been the last time Nate was there-
That had only been a few weeks ago. It felt like a lot longer.
It was a large space for the six of them. With an additional 10 bodies, it felt small. There was still the fire pit in the middle, a half dozen chairs arranged around it. Dim lights were hung along the walls to provide illumination, and a small kitchen area set up on the wall to Nate's right, complete with a stove, refrigerator, and large table.
The beds were all arranged on the opposite wall in a neat row. It almost looked like a barracks.
"Who's in command of this squad?" Damon asked before anyone could get settled.
"That's me", Helen said, stepping forward. "My command."
"What information do you have for us?"
"Damon", Glory said, eyeing the ghouls. "A little information security might be a good idea."
The SPARTAN turned to her. "They aren't an intel risk. If the Brotherhood finds them, they'll know they", he motioned at the squad, "were here." Damon looked back at their 'catch'. "I want to know your information is valuable enough to risk bringing you back to our leadership."
Glory frowned but still nodded her agreement. "Fair enough."
"Hold on", one of their hosts interjected. It was hard for Nate to tell age with Ghouls but he seemed like the youngest. He was taller than Jesko by a few inches but, like all of them, was rail-thin. "If the Brotherhood finds us? You said they wouldn't!"
Damon nodded. "I did, and they won't. It's a hypothetical."
"What he's trying to say", Nate added, "is hearing whatever they have to say won't make you dangerous, so it's okay if they talk about it here."
Jesko frowned. "You sure about that? You know they didn't follow you or couldn't track you here?"
It would have been almost impossible given they were almost to the city, miles away from their rendezvous, by the time they were on site. Hell, they were miles away when Cambridge was alerted. Without air coverage, the odds of them being seen or tracked were astronomical.
That didn't mean they were zero.
Nate nodded. "It's as close to sure as anything can be in a fight. We appreciate you like your privacy. We asked you to do us a huge favor and we wouldn't have come here if we weren't as sure as possible it would come back on you."
"And you've done this sort of thing before?" Jesko asked.
"We have", Victor replied, nodding. "Many times. And that was with people who were specifically trying to track us down."
The Ghoul's eyes narrowed. "Better than the Brotherhood at it? Who might these people be?"
Victor and Glory shared a quick glance. Something passed between the two Railroad agents and, after a second's pause, Glory shrugged.
"The Institute. We've been on their bad side for a long time. But", she continued as the obvious question appeared on everyone's faces, "that's a story for another day. If we're good here, I'd like to get started on this intel."
Their hosts all looked like they wanted to keep going down that road and Nate couldn't blame them. Jesko just shrugged once the moment passed and motioned for them to continue.
"Understood." Helen glanced at the older scribe. "Kate?"
The woman stepped forward and looked at Victor. "Can I have my bag?"
Victor slowly slipped the straps of the backpack off of his shoulders and offered it to her-
Damon stepped between them and retrieved it. "Did you search this?"
"Yeah", the Railroad operative said, nodding.
"… I see." The SPARTAN's head turned from Victor to Kate. Nate could see the thought going through his head without him having to say it.
"I'd rather play this safe."
He knelt and set the bag on the floor before unzipping it. "Talk me through what's in here." Damon reached in and pulled an old tablet out. Those must have been rare these days.
"Data pad", Kate said. "Most of what you'll want is on there. The power button is on the top right. Passcode is 4-3-8-6-1-9." She waited for Damon to turn the device on and unlock it.
Whatever was important enough to defect from the Brotherhood was on that tablet. And, whatever it was, they didn't want to risk sending it over even secured comms channels.
It had to be something big.
Nate couldn't help himself. He walked over to stand beside the SPARTAN so he could look at its screen.
Apparently, Victor and Glory felt the same way. Pam stayed back, positioning herself level with the squad.
"Wait", Jesko said. "Can't they track that?"
Damon shook his head as the screen turned on. "If it put off a signal, the interference from the buildings would distort it beyond usability for any ground-based monitoring and they don't have satellite coverage." He tapped in the passcode to unlock the tablet. "Satellite reliability would be marginal at best, anyway. Once we left the street, they wouldn't receive any signal."
A document opened as soon as the tablet was unlocked. It was a report, Nate could tell that much from the map with various figures scrawled across it. A few dozen circles of varying size marking locations…
"This is a heat map", Victor mused. "What are the hot spots?"
"Identified infection zones."
Damon's head snapped up from the screen. "Our people are investigating a sickness that has been spreading with radiation exposure-like symptoms. Is this the same?"
She nodded. "The data available says it's a bacterial infection. It isn't airborne; it spreads through water and physical contact. We don't have the labs we're used to back in DC so we don't know for sure what the communicability is."
"... There's a 'but' coming", Victor said. "You don't risk this kind of move on a timetable this short to tell us about a bacterial infection. We have antibiotic stores, and we're working on producing our own, but I can't imagine they're any more advanced than your facilities."
"Not a 'but'." Kate shook her head. "This is a tailor-made disease, we know that much. It has a long incubation period and is resistant to almost every drug we've tried so far."
Tailor-made disease?
"… The Institute", Nate said slowly. "Do you have anything to prove that?"
The scribe motioned to her compatriot. The young man stepped forward, eyes darting from Nate to Damon, then the Railroad agents before repeating the process. The guy had his hands clasped in front of him, tight. He looked nervous. Nate couldn't tell if it was "this is a scary situation" nervous, or "I hope they don't realize we're betraying them" nervous.
"Like Scribe Kate was saying, we don't have access to our normal level of equipment", he started. "That being said, our observations in the field support the hypothesis. It's a new disease no one has encountered before. We don't have any record of it in our database, and it's bacterial. That's an ideal vector for a controlled release since it's relatively slow to mutate on its own and, since it has drug-resistant properties, there isn't much we can do to impact either its spread or evolution. Its characteristics are what we would expect to see if someone were to create a controllable disease. The long incubation period and, from what we've seen so far, the low mortality rate also seem like they were designed to maximize spread and minimize fatalities. Theories for that include mass resource consumption and wide-scale resistance neutralization. The relevant data is in the report."
"We don't have any direct evidence", Kate added. "That being said, I believe what we do have is fairly conclusive. It's a disease specifically tailored to be hard to deal with and effective on a large scale. The behaviors we're seeing aren't common in nature, historically or contemporarily."
Damon looked from the Scribes down to the tablet in his hands. "Have they re-established any offensives?"
Kate shook her head.
They aren't following this up with an attack? Are they waiting for their opposition to soften?
"Your numbers suggest a few thousand people have been affected." The SPARTAN started scrolling through the report. "That's a significant portion of the population. Even if the disease doesn't have a high mortality rate, it will degrade defenses and slow food production. People still die. Do you have estimates on spread, impact, and timeframe?"
"None we can put any confidence in." Kate shook her head again. "In our observations, we've seen cases ranging from mild to severe with a nearly even spread skewed to the mild side. Some can continue functioning while ill, others are confined to rest. The Brotherhood has implemented strict quarantine measures for our forces and the settlements under our control."
"So, to summarize", Victor interjected, "you have evidence to suggest we're seeing a disease purposely spread by the Institute that we can't cure. It doesn't outright kill most people, which is nice. The problem is it's spreading without much trouble because we don't have anything to treat it. Long term, it could lead to a lot of dead people through secondary consequences. On top of that, it could reduce every other group's readiness, making any assault the Institute plans easier to execute."
Kate nodded. "Yes."
Silence reigned over the basement as the implications settled in. So many people lived on the edge of existence, making it by day to day with whatever they could scrounge together. Something like this could, and probably would, push a lot of those people over that edge.
A pit opened in Nate's stomach.
And all of this was Shaun's doing. His son. His son was responsible for what was about to become a mass death.
… How?!
So many people- what would happen to Goodneighbor if this thing spread there? When it spread there?
What about all the other settlements that were already struggling with it? How long until people started dying from a lack of food or an attack they weren't able to fend off?
Even their hosts looked concerned and they isolated themselves from the rest of the Commonwealth.
Damon set the data pad down and reached into the bag again.
"Why give us this information?" he said. His voice had gone flat. It was a tone Nate had come to recognize. The SPARTAN had an objective now. They all did.
"Because you'll do more with it than Maxson will," Helen replied. We aren't—" she pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose. We were ordered to keep the information quiet. They were withdrawing any non-combat teams. The only ones allowed to make contact with settlements were armored units, and we were given strict instructions about our contact and conduct. All of it was to minimize the risk to us."
The SPARTAN nodded as he pulled out another pair of tablets.
"The rest is clothes", the younger Scribe said.
Damon looked up at him, helmet cocked.
"It's- there's nothing- I'm not trying to hide anything." He must have realized how suspicious that sounded.
Kate waved the concern away. "Search it."
"While he's doing that", Glory said and pulled the pack she'd been carrying off her shoulders. "Strip and change, one at a time, I'll be watching. These probably won't fit all that well, but you'll have to deal with it until we can get more." She turned to Jesko. "Is there somewhere we can have some privacy?"
The Ghoul nodded and pointed toward the far wall. It wasn't until then Nate noticed a partition set in the corner, isolated as far away from everything else as it could be. Even if that was only about 20 feet. "Bathroom."
"Thanks." The Railroad soldier looked at the former Brotherhood members. "Who's first?"
Nate turned his attention back to Damon pulling a bundle of clothes from the bag.
"What was that code again?" the ex-soldier asked as he picked a pad up from beside the SPARTAN.
"4-3-8-6-1-9."
Turning the device on, he punched the code in and was rewarded with the same report they'd been looking at a minute ago.
A dozen circles with varying color gradients were scattered across an area map of Boston and its surroundings. None of them had reached the northwest, where Sanctuary and the Farms were. One, to the east, was near the school. Nate didn't remember a settlement being in the area it showed as infected but it wasn't as if he'd had much time to check. Most of the infection was in the city, specifically the southern area.
The Glowing Sea… If the infections had started there, it would have taken the residents a while to realize it wasn't just radiation sickness. That area was contaminated to the point not even the Brotherhood would make regular trips into it. A delay in reporting would give the Institute's infection time to spread before someone raised the alarm. If people are sick and contagious for long periods of time, that means a lot of room to grow under the radar.
If these guys were right, it would make sense to have started the infection there…
"Pam, can you watch them for a few minutes?" Nate asked.
The Assaultron nodded. "Yes."
Victor and Damon turned to the ex-soldier, who was still studying the map.
He jerked his head toward the corner opposite the bathrooms. "I wanna run something by the two of you."
Once they were alone, or as alone as they could be in that basement, the infantryman flipped the tablet so the other two could see what he was looking at.
"I'm not a virologist or epidemiologist so maybe you can see if this makes sense. From how concentrated the spread is along Boston's southern half I'd guess, if this really is a plant, they started it there to mask its spread for as long as possible. What with all the radiation coming from the Glowing Sea."
Victor took a moment to study the heat map before nodding, slowly. "It would make sense. And it would fit the Institute's MO. Subtlety is their thing, after all, and it would give them the best opportunity for success."
"Okay… this seems legit. I know it isn't much to go on but if this is true, we can't leave it alone."
Damon nodded. "We need to contact Preston tomorrow morning."
"You could head topside tonight", Nate replied. "Maybe that new radio has the range for it."
"I doubt it." He glanced back at the former Brotherhood soldiers. "I'm not leaving long enough to get into contact."
"Ten hours can make a big difference here."
"Not at this point", Victor said, shaking his head. "If this thing was designed by the Institute to spread as far as possible without being noticed, the areas they have highlighted won't be its limits. It's farther than that, I can guarantee it."
Nate frowned. "Dammit… so what do we do now?"
"The same thing the Brotherhood's doing", the Railroad operative replied. "Isolate areas we think are safe to keep them from being infected. We'll have to decontaminate our water supplies and begin sanitizing the best we can. If it isn't airborne, we can control enough to limit the spread. Start producing as much food in Sanctuary, at the Farms, and anywhere else as we can and give all of our settlements what we know."
Damon clasped his arms behind his back, something Nate didn't see him do much. "We're on a clock. If the Institute made this and made it drug-resistant, they'll have something to treat it. You don't release a disease like this without a control method. Bacteria is curable with the right medication. We need to contact Li to see if she can give us samples. I don't know if we'll be able to duplicate it but Curie might be able to if we can contact her."
"Curie?" Nate asked. He knew that name. Where had-
"You mean the woman we met when we were gathering parts for the teleporter?"
The SPARTAN nodded. "She was working on some kind of bacteria while hiding with the Railroad. That lab equipment might be able to replicate their cure. It won't be on a large scale, but it's a start."
"Right… right", Victor said. "And I bet she'll know where to get more lab equipment. We'll have to talk with Dez and see if we can get runners down to the Capital Wasteland to find her. We have a few people in the area we can use as contacts."
Nate frowned. "You do?"
"Yeah." Victor nodded. "We have people all over the east coast. It's one of the reasons the Institute hasn't been able to wipe us out."
"Okay. So we need to contact Preston as soon as we're in comms range tomorrow morning. Get him on the phone with Li and see if we can figure out whether this-" he paused, mouth open.
Wait a minute… this is huge. If Li knew it was happening, wouldn't she have told us?
"Does Li know? Or… did Shaun figure out she was working with them?"
The lack of response from either Damon or Victor was all the confirmation he needed.
"... That's not good."
Victor nodded. "If he made Li, he'll know a lot about our operations."
"If he did", Damon said, "they'd be dismantling them. The Railroad is their primary target. If this has been spreading for several weeks, they would have had time to assemble target packages and begin strikes."
As much as Nate wanted to believe him, he wasn't feeling too optimistic. "How do you know?"
"ONI- the outfit I worked for had similar tendencies. If they had a target as significant a threat as the Railroad and Minutemen are to the Institute, they would have wiped them out immediately. There's something strange going on, but we aren't made yet."
Nate looked back down at the tablet. "So, how do you explain the radio silence on this?"
"Compartmentalization. Us telling Li might be the first time she hears what's happening. We'll need her to verify this information before I trust it." Damon motioned for the tablet and Nate handed it to the armored titan. "Shaun is smart enough to know he has moles. He's keeping it as quiet as possible for as long as possible."
Shaun is smart enough to know he has moles… That was a bittersweet thought.
"Right."
Damon looked from the tablet to Nate, head tilted to the right. It stayed there for a moment, fixed on the ex-soldier, before he offered a small, almost unnoticeable nod.
"We have our next actions", the SPARTAN said. "Victor, see if they need anything. I want a minute."
The Railroad operative rubbed his face and nodded. "Alright. This is not what I expected to get from them."
I don't think any of us did.
Once he'd trudged off, Damon's visor found Nate again.
"Yeah, yeah, I know", Nate snapped before the supersoldier could ask. "Sorry, that wasn't at you it's- ah…" he put his hands on his hips and looked up at the ceiling. "I know what I said the other day but I don't know if I'll ever get past this, Damon. I wanted you to be wrong, you know, about my son and the Institute." Nate met the larger man's gaze. He was still watching, silently. The ex-soldier wasn't sure whether that was because he knew Nate wasn't finished or because he didn't know what to say. It isn't all that important, I guess…
"This is hard to swallow. That my son is- evil enough to do something like this is-" Nate closed his eyes, and his jaw locked for a heartbeat. "What they're telling us is he, at the very least, greenlit a plan to infect a bunch of innocent people to make this fight easier. At worst, he's the one who came up with the plan." The ex-soldier threw his hands up. "My own damn son did that."
If it were any other living person, Nate would have expected to hear, "There was nothing you could have done." This wasn't any other living person, though. If anything could be said about the two of them, it's that they understood each other, at least when it came to this.
And Damon had been through his own trial. Hearing that might help at some point, but it wouldn't have helped then.
The towering man nodded. "It would have been different if you were there."
… That wasn't something Nate had expected to hear either.
And, apparently, that came across in his expression, too.
"I don't think you would have raised a son who would do something like this", Damon continued.
He wouldn't have raised a son that would seed a bunch of innocent settlements with a disease that was made to keep people sick for as long as possible? What was that supposed to mean? Who cares? His son was the one who did it.
You know that isn't what he's saying.
So? Why does that mean a damn thing?
Because he's right. Probably.
Nate forced a smile onto his face. "Well, yeah, I don't think I'd raise a son that would be okay with experimenting on people either."
Damon's helmet tilted to the side. "I know it doesn't change anything and I know you already know it." He shrugged. "Sometimes it helps to hear something you already know from someone else. You taught me that."
"Really", the ex-soldier said through a deep breath. "Why does it feel like, every time we have an important conversation, I end up going through some life-altering event immediately afterward?"
He closed his eyes again and took another deep breath. "I know… I know." Nate looked up to meet the SPARTAN's gaze again. "It's just hard, you know."
His friend nodded. "Yes."
"I'll be-" Nate was going to say "alright" but that wasn't true. At least, he didn't know if it was true.
But, before he could come up with something else to say, Damon did something he'd never done before.
He said, "I know", again, and reached an armored hand out. The giant of a man slapped Nate's shoulder in a normally friendly gesture. If one were to watch the SPARTAN's demeanor, it looked like a regular, friendly gesture.
Damon hit him so hard, the ex-soldier had to scramble to stay on his feet. That wasn't as bad as the pain that shot through his arm and into his chest. His entire left side throbbed.
"Dammit", he hissed once he'd regained his balance. "That hurt. That isn't supposed to hurt."
The SPARTAN shrugged. "First time."
"Really." Nate rubbed his shoulder. He'd have a hand-shaped bruise on it in a few minutes. "That means you try to break my arm?"
"I'll do better next time."
"Like hell you will! You ever do that again, I'll make good on Corey and Brenda's promise. Turnabout's fair play, and all that."
"I'd wait until we've saved everyone", Damon said.
Nate, still rubbing his arm, cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I'll shoot you too, and this time I'll mean it." The ex-soldier could hear the smile in his voice.
Nate smiled with him as he realized what his friend had been doing. When did he start trying to make me feel better?
A/N: So this was a little... different. They not only got a huge break with some defectors, the mission went off without a hitch. I'm... trying to remember the last time that happened. Well, anyway, the Institute might be back in a big way. It's something I've always felt the game didn't use enough: these people can make artificial humans, some bio-engineering is right up their alley. I can't say too much more without giving upcoming events away so that's all for now!
Next Chapter: 9/6, What's Left?