16: Synthetic Truth
Danse had figured a peaceful resolution was an impossibility when he'd taken to slaughtering an entire township in self defense. Thus, it was no surprise when he and "Honest" Dan descended into "the Compound" that there was a firing line of men waiting for both of them. Danse had been prepared for some return fire, but his concussion had made immediate reaction difficult under the sheer volume that was awaiting Dan and him.
A turret and five men had blasted him with a spotlight as soon as he'd crawled out of the runoff pipes. Had he not taken a crack to the head, this might not have been a major concern, but no amount of stimpacks simply undoes an active concussion. The light felt like a spike had been wedged in his brain. Only the gyroscopic assistance in his armor had stopped him from falling over entirely. For a shamefully long time, Danse had been thrust back against the wall, pinned under a hail of gunfire. Had his adversaries been packing any serious hardware, Danse was positive he might have died in that first engagement within the Compound.
When Danse had finally pushed through the haze of his reeling head wound, he noticed Dan pressed tight against the pipe's wall they'd exited from. He was looking with beady, anxious eyes toward Danse. It made sense; if the man in power armor goes down in the first few shots, what hope would he have- armed only with a cheap laser rifle and a contract- of pushing his way through this place? Danse raised his rifle and began to return fire. His shots were inaccurate, but close enough to give the firing line pause. The turret continued its steady rat-tat-tat, but without five more guns to add to the pinging symphony of lead denting and tearing at Danse's armor, he found his opening.
Even with only a few yards of mud between the pipe's egress and the grated platform the ambushers stood on, Danse found himself missing more than he ought to. Damn concussion, he thought. Perhaps it was the security in numbers, perhaps it was poor training; either way, none of the men moved as Danse advanced and fired. Without any real cover for them to hide behind, Danse had been able to kill three of them before the other two had made a break to descend deeper into the Compound. It was only the turret's constant stream of fire that gave them the break they needed to retreat.
Danse had turned to finish the turret off when a spare round clipped something in his suit's neck. His helmet gave a violent whirring noise and locked. Finding himself vulnerable again, Danse raised an arm to try and shield as much of the turret's fire as he could. A few gunshots from behind him, at long last, quieted the turrets droning fire. Honest Dan advanced, moving to take cover next to a pipe beside Danse. "Are you hit!?"
Danse instinctively reached up toward his neck, though his armor awarded no sensation of touch. His HUD, however, revealed that the powered rotation in his neck had taken damage. The effort to turn his head without it was too much. Begrudgingly, Danse unclamped his helmet and tore it free from his head, filling his senses with the rush of earthy musk and denying him the security of steel. "Armor's taking a beating." Danse gasped.
"Sorry I didn't jump out sooner; now you're down a leg and a helmet." Dan apologized, glancing past the pipe toward the exit where the two men had escaped deeper into the Compound.
"No," Danse gave a waving-off gesture as he popped the spent cartridge on his rifle. "They would have chewed you to pieces. Staying in cover was smart. I might need you to take a bit more of an aggressive approach as we advance, however. I'm not sure how much more my armor can take and my concussion is impeding me more than I'd like to admit."
"Do you need a stim?"
Danse shook his head. "Not a bad idea, but my suit's equipped." Danse hit the trigger within his suit, manually permitting him a fresh dose. His head cleared a little more, but the string of service lights above still felt like suns bearing down on his retinas. He'd kill for some Med-X right about now. "Alright…" Danse straightened himself, glancing down to his leg. "Let's go."
The fight through the remainder of the compound was a siege-like slog. In failing armor, and with his head exposed, Danse felt a bull-rush was no longer an option. To Danse, this was a shame; these men were armored only in simple riot gear and armed with crude civilian weaponry. Whatever this "Compound" truly was, it certainly wasn't well funded. What troubled Danse was that they didn't look like raiders. The men defending this place looked borderline civilian themselves; they certainly fought- and died- like civilians.
The Compound itself, Danse had come to discover in that blur of exchanged gunfire, was a labyrinth of service tunnels tending to a wide system of what Danse could only have imagined were old-world sewage and water lines. A system like this would have been hell to siege had a competent force occupied it. Luckily for Danse- and Honest Dan, by extension- there was a significant lack of well-placed ambushes or booby traps. By the end of it, Danse was positive that these people had never truly expected the fight to come to them.
In the first stretch of the fight, Danse and Dan had come upon the first sign of what might really be transpiring in this "Compound" of Covenant. A security room housed a terrified looking man sporting a doctor's coat, a guard trying to fire through the grates on the door, and a man tied to a chair. A few swift kicks had brought the door down and Honest Dan, much to Danse's appreciation, had fired on the lone guard before Danse had the chance to. Danse had looked to the doctor instead, whose gun was trained on the man in the chair. Much to Danse's surprise, the doctor valued the execution of the prisoner over his own life.
Honest Dan, overcome with adrenaline and disgust, had marveled that they'd tortured the man the now hole-punched "doctor" had put a round through. Danse felt such barbarism was to be expected and had only instructed Honest Dan to take a moment to compose himself before they moved deeper into the facility.
After what felt like an eternity of fighting their way through twists and turns, over and under pipage, they arrived in what Danse deemed to be the final chamber. It was a large, hollow room save for a few pipes networked to the left, a brick staircase to the right, and a grated walkway with a caged room in front. A single terminal sat exposed beneath the grated walkway; Danse made a mental note to try to avoid hitting it at all costs. He was about to relay that order to Danse when an older woman's voice called out.
"Hold it! Hold your fire!"
"Expose yourself!" Danse ordered, still creeping in the brick archway into the chamber while Honest Dan used Danse for cover.
"You first!"
"I have just carved a path through your men to get here; you are not in a position to negotiate! Expose yourself or there will be violence!"
"Fine!" The woman called back, and revealed herself. She was thin and, at least at first, appeared unarmed. Her gray mess of hair was swept back and the thick mechanics goggles she wore gave her an uncaring insectoid look that Danse found he didn't much care for. "... You haven't shot me immediately, so I'll take that as a sign that perhaps we can talk."
"Perhaps I might still let you surrender." Danse snarled. It was a vicious line, not at all the sort of dialogue he'd engage in during an operation, but this was turning out to be the second worst op of his career; yesterday was the first. Paladin Danse had felt- and had been told by those he trusted- that his patience was admirable and professionally long. Here, in the bowels of this service system, concussed in a suit of failing armor with both of his men buried a few miles away, Danse found he had no desire to talk. All he wanted was to finish this sweep, make his report, and be merrily along his fucking way.
The goggled woman grimaced. "I'm afraid surrender isn't an option, either. But if you permit me to tell you of my work here, I think you may come to understand.. That is, if you- yourself- have any freewill."
Honest Dan piped up from behind Danse; "Fuck you lady! You sick bastards are ripping people apart here! You're worse than slavers; you're like those freak scientists from old comic books!"
The goggled woman scoffed in a way that still signaled to Danse that she didn't truly believe she was as close to being shot to death as she actually was. That, or she was very much ready to swallow a laserbolt. "We're saving the Commonwealth here! That other voice- whomever you are, cowering in the shadow of… What, Danse, was it?"
Danse's nostrils flared. "How do you know my name?"
The goggled woman smirked in such a way that made Danse's trigger finger tense, again. "The test. The test you took. The SAFE test. Unless that wasn't your name."
Honest Dan shook his head. "Fuck you and fuck your safe tests; we're here for Amelia Stockton! She was in those caravans you sick freaks slaughtered. Is she even still alive!?"
Another voice called out from the top of the metal walkway, from the cage. "I-I'm here!" A woman's voice croaked. "I'm Amelia! Please, god, let me out-"
The goggled woman snapped her head back. "Shut up, synthetic trash! The only way you're leaving here is in pieces! I don't care if these two men have their rifles on me; you will die here, I promise you that! So help me, my final act on this earth will be a noble one!"
Danse raised his barrel slightly and fired a single shot into the ceiling to demand silence. Dan and the Goggled woman both flinched. Moreover, two men previously unseen emerged from cover, training crude rifles from behind the pipes they'd been using for cover on Danse. Danse's eyes hovered to them. He'd begun to swivel his aim when the goggled woman threw her hands up at the two men. "Wait- Don't shoot!"
The two men hesitated. The sadist doctor might have been ready to die here, but Danse gathered that the last two guards weren't. "The SAFE test. What is it? Who are you people? What is the Compound?"
The goggled woman relaxed, slightly, and turned to face Danse again. She adjusted her tie and straightened her back, speaking in an authoritative mood. "My name is Dr. Roselyn Chambers. The Compound is the only true underground force for good in the Commonwealth, the sole real resistance against the evil that the Institute has unleashed. The SAFE test is our sword in this crusade against twisted, abused science and the mockery it has produced."
That rhetoric sounded rather familiar to Paladin Danse, though he kept that to himself. "What is the SAFE test? What's its purpose, and why was it administered to everyone needing to pass through Covenant?"
Chambers ran a calm hand through her hair. "The SAFE test is the product of decades of my research. First off, with how you two have come barging in here, I feel inclined to ask; do either of you even know what a synth is?"
Danse nodded. "I wouldn't be in the Commonwealth if I didn't." This awarded him a strange look from Honest Dan.
Chambers quirked a bitter smile. "Oh, you have no idea how true that is, paladin."
"And what does that mean?"
Chambers ignored Danse, and pressed on. "The SAFE test is the only screening capable of determining a person's identity as a synth with almost guaranteed accuracy- that is, while the synth is still alive. When dead, under an autopsy, the Institute's crude weapon against humanity is quite distinguishable to a trained eye like myself. But otherwise, they're impossible to tell physically apart from we whom they mock with their existence. But… Psychologically, I've discovered there are ways to trigger certain responses that suggest a person's true identity as a synth. Seemingly random questions that almost guarantee a positive on the being's true nature."
Danse adjusted the grip on his rifle. "What's your success rate?"
Chambers smiled with nothing short of unadulterated pride. "Seventy percent. That's almost one-in-five true positive synths. No one- no one, Danse- has come as close as we have to snuffing out the synthetic threat from the wasteland. In time, I believe we can narrow the SAFE test to be as accurate as one-in-two!"
Honest Dan asked what Dance had already parsed out. "Oh yeah?! What happens to the false-negatives, huh!?"
Chambers sneered. "False positives." She corrected, then sighed, slumping her shoulders. "They're killed, then an autopsy is performed to reveal that skew in our data."
"You murder them!" Dan raged.
"You call it murder," Chambers grit her teeth. "I call it a noble sacrifice in the name of keeping humanity safe from a race that seeks to replace it! The bombs tried to erase humanity in a single gunshot; the Institute and the synths are trying to choke us so softly we feel not the hands around our throat! Sacrifices must be made in war, it is inevitable! Their names are documented, their efforts righteous."
This rhetoric also sounded very familiar to Danse. This woman's data could prove valuable to the Brotherhood, if any nonsense she spouted was true. Her fervor, however, was deplorable. Downright sickening. "Surrender yourself and your data to me, Dr. Chambers." Danse demanded. "Surrender yourself to the Brotherhood of Steel. Perhaps if you're fortunate, we might even let you continue your research."
Dan looked over wildly at Dance. "... What the hell's a Brotherhood of Steel?"
Chambers only scoffed. "Oh? Is that whom you believe you serve, Paladin?" Dance's face twitched briefly in confusion; a small gesture which made Chambers begin to grin madly.
"I'm quite aware of your Brotherhood. You might make a fine enemy to the Institute, but I know if I surrender myself to you, you would condemn my research. Any form of science frightens you all, doesn't it?"
Danse's finger tensed again. "What do you mean by they being whom I serve?"
Chamber's smile grew predatory, grew victorious. "... Would you like to see your SAFE test results, Danse? I think-"
Danse's rifle discharged, putting a smoldering dime-sized hole through Dr. Chambers right goggle. The google shattered and broke at the strap. Chamber's remaining eye flew open, her mouth agape in surprise and cranial shock. It was dead silent as the others tried to parse together what was happening. Chambers stood, wavered, mouthed a single unintelligible sound, and then collapsed.
One of them behind the pipes screamed in frustration and rage, firing off a round. Danse felt it ping off his inner thigh plate, ricocheting behind him. His rifle swiveled. The second man put a round into Danse's chestplate. It dented the armor and did no more. Concussed or not, Danse had no trouble aiming at the two remaining guards at a range so short; two snapshots from Danse's laser rifle and the fight was over.
The smell of gunsmoke and ozone was accompanied by the faint developing pungent tang of blood, a gurgling noise, and Amelia Stockton's sobbing from her cage.
Danse looked down to his triggerfinger as though it had betrayed him. Shooting Dr. Chambers was an impulsive decision, yes, but not one he felt he may be reprimanded for later on down the line. She was psychotic, even if her research might have some value. It would be in much safer hands once it reached the scribes. Another gurgle drew Danse from his analytic state. He turned around to face the source of the noise.
Honest Dan was slumped against the archway, eyes wide in fear. He clutched at his neck, from which came a crimson river. Danse knew right away that Honest Dan had been hit in an artery. How? Danse wondered. My body should have provided enough cover. Then, Danse realized; the ricochet from his thigh plate. An almost impossible shot and, undoubtedly, one made unconsciously by the cooling Compound guard who'd made it.
Danse glanced back, giving the chamber one last scan for possible dangers before he knelt beside Honest Dan. The wasteland bounty hunter looked up at Danse with utter panic in his eyes. He tried to speak, but only ended up coughing blood. Danse frowned, resting one armored hand on Dan's shoulder. "You're dying." Danse announced, his voice somewhere between cold and mournful. "I'm sorry. I'm going to administer a stimpack; it might help with the pain."
Danse opened a small medical panel along the small of his back, producing one of the few stimpacks not built into the suit. Dan, who likely hadn't heard a word Danse had said through his growing shock, used his free hand to briefly pad along Danse's arm. When the stimpack's syringe plunged through Dan's leg and the pressure change automatically engaged the medical cocktail of stimulants and painkillers, Dan's eyes briefly flew open wide before relaxing.
Honest Dan breathed in once, twice, a third time, and then died- each breath slower than the last. Paladin Danse waited a moment before closing the dead man's eyes. Much to Danse's relief, he didn't feel the same sorrow at losing a brother in arms as he had with Rhys or Haylen. He found Honest Dan's death greatly unfortunate, but at least he had only been a wastelander.
Danse let his eyes fall on the cage, on the source of the sobbing. He glanced at Dr. Chamber's body. No doubt she believed that Honest Dan's quarry was a synth, although that "one in five" statistic continued to bob on the surface of the Paladin's mind. Although Danse briefly considered executing the woman on the grounds that she may be an agent of the Institute, he dismissed it just as quickly. It was, frankly, more likely she was just a civilian. Some Paladins might not take that chance, but Danse felt he'd seen enough death for today.
Too much, even. Danse had lost count of how many he'd slain in the last hour.
He rose, his left leg chittering and grinding as he did so. He ignored the sobbing, for the time being, and moved to the terminal beyond. Danse hunched over and began to give it a cursory search. He was satisfied to find not only personal logs from Dr. Chambers, but logs on every test committed in what looked like the last twenty years. Two decades of developing this so-called SAFE test. All it cost was nearly a hundred or more victims. When Danse allowed another glance back to Dr. Chambers' body, he allowed himself a moment of pride. Stopping people like her is why he joined the Brotherhood in the first place.
He opted not to think about what she had been saying the moment he'd shot her.
Danse inserted a holotape into the terminal, letting it pull doctor Roselyn Chambers' life work onto a slab that a team of scribes would comb over. This had the makings of a legendary find, Danse felt, though it's just as likely that it's nothing more than the ramblings of a mad woman with zero credibility. She thought I was a synth. As data flew across the screen, he shook his head. That's not possible.
While the holotape worked its magic, Danse marched up the metal staircase until he stood before the cage housing the woman Honest Dan had ultimately given his life for. Curled and balling in the corner was whom he presumed to be Amelia Stockton. "Ma'am." Danse announced in a voice that he hoped was calming. "Miss Stockton. Is that your name?"
Amelia, rocking back and forth, slowly nodded her head. "Y-Yes…"
"My name is Danse. I presume you heard most of what transpired?"
"I'm not a synth…" She whispered. Danse wasn't sure if that was directed to him, or to herself.
"Ma'am, I'm… Going to let you out of this cage now, alright?" Danse waited for a response, but she just kept rocking. Danse gave a slow nod and made his way back to the terminal, typing in a command to undo the maglock on the door. He returned, pulling the door open slowly, so as to not startle her. "Miss Stockton, you're free to go. There shouldn't be anyone left to stop you."
Amelia sniffled, shaking her head. "I'm not a synth… I just want this all to be over…"
"It is over, Miss Stockton," Danse tried. His words didn't seem to calm her. She's in shock. Of course she's in shock, why wouldn't she be? They've tortured her- physically and psychologically- for who knows how long. She won't make it on her own. Danse glanced back toward the entrance to the chamber, down to the slumped form of Honest Dan. A ricochet… Right when we'd made it to the end. Damn it…
Danse considered just leaving Amelia to her fate, carrying on with his mission. He could already imagine what Haylen's expression would be if he did so. Although… Haylen would not be able to judge him for such an objective decision. Not this time, nor ever again. Danse looked to the terminal, listened to the whirrs and clicks as it synced its data with the holotape. He looked again at Amelia Stockton.
"Where are you from, ma'am?" Danse asked.
She stopped rocking briefly, glancing to him. "I… I'm fr-from Beacon Hill…"
Danse tried to recall where that was. He'd only traversed the northern half of the Commonwealth, never entering Boston proper. Beacon Hill, if he was recalling correctly, was somewhere farther on the eastern side of Boston metro. It was a long trek through dangerous territory, even under the best of conditions. By helping her, I'd jeopardize the data on that holotape. I barely got through this fight, what's to say I'm able to survive the encounters on a delivery that doesn't serve the Brotherhood's interests? It would be wiser to just deposit her in the nearest settlement.
Except, Danse couldn't think of any other settlements nearby. Farther east he believed there was one near the interstate, but it was in the shadow of a forge full of raiders last Danse had checked. Amelia looked up through the dark at Danse and he realized that, whether he liked it or not, he was her only chance of making it out of here on her own.
She was not his mission, or his responsibility. Taking her would jeopardize what might be the only success he could hope to achieve before the Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland came to a decision on whether or not to mobilize on the Commonwealth- to mobilize on the Institute. Securing as much data on them- and their synths- was paramount.
After a great deal of agonizing conflict of directive, Danse knew what he had to do.