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Rain dripped off the brim of the woman’s western hat as she sighted up a last molerat with her 10mm pistol. There was a sharp crack and the hairless thing tumbled over with a strangled squeak. Behind her, a German Shepherd was worrying at the corpse of another one.
“Dogmeat!” she said sharply. “Stop. That’ll make you sick. Now, heel.”
He trotted obediently over to her side, panting, and sat down. Molerats dealt with, she knelt to examine a rag-clad body lying face down near an Airstream trailer. Her face twisted at the rancid smell. A junkyard seemed like a poor place to make a home and it certainly hadn’t worked out for whoever these people had been. She considered the strange circular tattoos on the corpse’s face and the odd spherical necklace that caused her Pip-Boy’s geiger to chirp when she started to pick it up. All the corpses she had found here shared those, but what kind of group were they and why were they here in an irradiated pile of junk? There was too much unknown to her out here in the wasteland and she didn’t like the unknown. It was likely to get you killed.
The area seemed clear now and the lone woman squinted at the sky while the German Shepherd milled around her legs. Under the brim of her hat, her piercing grey eyes were a match for the clouds still dropping rain above them. Her striking face was marked with old burns and a few long scars coming down from her hairline. She wore slashes of sharply precise eyeliner behind her rain-specked glasses and a splash of deep red lipstick like warpaint.
“Come, Dogmeat. Inside the trailer.” Woman and dog climbed in the Airstream and found it occupied by another tattooed corpse sprawled across one of two mattresses. She took the time to drag it to the door and push it out with an unceremonious kick. Dogmeat gave himself a vigorous shake, spraying water droplets, and settled himself patiently on the mattress closest to the door.
“All right, let’s see what we have in here.” She slung down the suppressed combat rifle she’d found in Nate’s stash and a leather pack she’d claimed from a corpse. She dug around in the bag, producing a can of dog food and a cracked bowl they’d found in a house filled with skeletons. The dog wagged his tail as she pried open the can with a combat knife taken from a dead raider and presented him the full bowl. As the dog ate with noisy enthusiasm, she dropped down tiredly on the second mattress which had lately held the dead body that was currently soaking up the rain outside. Even her clothes, the leather duster and boots, had been pulled from yet another corpse, but she couldn’t stand that eyesore blue Vault Suit one more second. It had the aura of death more strongly than even clothes worn by a dead man did. She had the uncanny feeling that she herself was also dead but didn’t know it yet. Maybe this was the purgatory priests and nuns had lectured about when she was young. Maybe if she’d paid more attention, she’d know.
She stood up, taking off her hat, and leaned on the doorframe to let the rain hit her face as she closed her eyes. No, she was alive and she was going to stay that way until the son of a bitch who killed her husband was in the ground and she’d found Shaun, just like Nate would have wanted. She’d seen combat stress reactions like this in other mercenaries and she wasn’t going to let it get her killed. She just needed some decent sleep. She ran her fingers over her black bun, now damp from the rain, and counted the live people she’d met. Garvey and his ragtag band were five plus two settlers and their vegetable patch made seven… She’d lost count of the raiders at the Corvega plant, but they were all dead so she couldn’t count them anymore anyway. She’d only heard the radio DJ so she marked him down as a half. Seven and a half.
Dogmeat finished scraping the bottom of his bowl and woofed quietly at her. She turned to him with a small smile. Eight and a half. “Good boy. Couldn’t ask for a cleaner bowl.” The dark-haired woman dropped to the mattress again, took off her glasses, and wiped the rain from her scarred face with one sleeve. The dog curled up next to her with his head in her lap. She rubbed his ears idly while she looked at her Pip-Boy. As tired as she was, she didn’t want to sleep and she wasn’t hungry yet, even though it was almost dark. She switched over to the Pip-Boy’s radio function and started scanning frequencies again. There had to be someone left besides helpless settlers, bloodthirsty thugs, and that ridiculous DJ.
Suddenly, the Pip-Boy’s scanning stopped at a military frequency, AF95, and she heard a woman’s voice saying, “…requesting support or evac from our position at Cambridge Police Station. Automated message repeating. This is Scribe Haylen of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius to any unit in transmission range. Authorization Arx. Ferrum. Nine. Five. Our unit has sustained casualties and we’re running low on supplies. We’re requesting support…”
She stood, stuffed the dog’s bowl back into her pack, and slapped the militia hat back on her head. Dogmeat danced in a circle and barked as he sensed her excitement. According to her Pip-Boy’s map, the police station was only a few miles away. She tried to tamp down her hopes for what she’d find. The message was automated so they could be dead already. They could be hostile. But either way there would be supplies to recover or steal and more clues about this new hostile world.
She set out quickly along the road to the southeast and toward the city, Dogmeat loping by her side. As she got closer to the buildings, she heard the distinctive sound of laser fire and feral growling. She drew her 10mm as she quietly rounded a corner between picnic tables to see heavy barricades with feral ghouls swarming around them. They hadn’t seen her yet. All their attention was focused on someone in power armor. A person on the ground wounded and a medic were both behind him. While she still had the element of surprise, she whispered, “Wait, boy. Wait.” The dog growled lowly, crouched and ready to launch himself into the fray. The woman fired and a ghoul went down with a bullet in its head. She heard a man yell, “Civilian in the perimeter! Check your fire!”
She yelled back, “Grenade out, 12 o’clock!” and one of her molotov cocktails whirled through the air to the center of the pack. She felt the rush of heat on her face as the bottle shattered on the ground. It went up in a blaze and the ferals caught in it screamed and howled as they withered in the flames. She shouted, “Get ‘em, boy!” and the dog launched himself at what was left of the pack. She slowly worked her way around to the man’s right side to be out of his field of fire, shooting without pause. The man in power armor was yelling, “For honor! For glory! For the Brotherhood!” as he fired his laser rifle. She had never had anything like that to yell in these situations so she silently worked at the business of ghoul extermination and her only audible contribution was the sharp sound of reloading regularly as a machine. Dogmeat danced among the ghouls, snarling and snapping.
Finally, it was quiet. The man lowered his rifle and she had time to note the grinding whir of a damaged servo in his armor’s leg, the tired bags under his eyes, and his dark stubble. “I think that’s the last of them,” she said matter of factly while she holstered her pistol. She was short compared to his power armor with only her damp leather duster and muddy boots. The dog trotted over to sit quietly next to her.
The man’s dark eyes were sharp inside his tight white hood as he looked at her appraisingly. He said over his shoulder, “Haylen, if Rhys is stable, check Keane up on the barricades.”
“Right away, Paladin.” The woman she assumed was a medic scrambled through the ghoul bodies and up the walkway stairs.
The man in power armor turned to her and said with a familiar stern tone, “We appreciate the assistance, civilian. But what’s your business here?” Apparently military was military, even after the apocalypse.
She shrugged casually. “Just happened to be passing through.”
“The way you charged in and engaged those ferals, I find that a bit difficult to believe. Are you from a local settlement?”
She paused for a moment to weigh her options. “I came out of a vault, up to the northwest.” A touch of the truth helped smooth the way for deceit in the future, she found.
His eyes widened. “You’re a Vault Dweller? Most people wouldn’t admit to such a thing. I appreciate your honesty. I suppose I should have noticed the Pip-Boy on your arm, but it’s been a long day.”
The woman named Haylen called down from the walkway, “Knight Keane is deceased, Paladin. I’ve removed his holotags.”
“Damn it.” He shook his head and continued tiredly, “If I appear suspicious, it’s because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we’ve been constantly under fire. If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun on our side.”
Here we go, she thought with satisfaction. Better not to appear too eager though. “I’ll consider it, but I need some more information first. You’re obviously part of a military organization, but who are you?”
“I’m Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel. Behind me is Knight Rhys and up there is Scribe Haylen.”
What is this, a renaissance fair?, she thought, but what she said was, “I’m Grey. Pleased to meet you, sir. Sorry about Keane.” She offered her hand gingerly and was surprised by the lightness of the handshake she received from one of his heavy metal gloves.
Danse sighed. “I appreciate that. We’re on recon duty, but now I’m down another man and our supplies are running low. I’ve been trying to send a distress call to my superiors, but the signal’s too weak to reach them.”
Haylen cleared her throat. “Sir, if I may?”
“Proceed, Haylen.”
She leaned on the walkway’s railing with bloody hands and addressed Grey. “I’ve modified the radio tower on the roof of the police station, but I’m afraid it just isn’t enough. What we need is something that will boost the signal. A laboratory facility nearby, ArcJet Systems, has what we need… a Deep Range Transmitter.”
Grey frowned. “How do you know it’s there? Have you already reconnoitered the building?” She winced internally at the slip into military jargon. She was supposed to be just a Vault Dweller, but none of the soldiers seemed to notice.
“The lab was flagged by a previous recon team as containing related technology,” Danse said. “We’ll infiltrate the facility, secure the transmitter, and bring it back here. So, what do you say? You willing to lend the Brotherhood of Steel a hand?”
Grey smilled. “You’ve got me on board.”
“Outstanding,” he said crisply. “Haylen, take Rhys inside and bind his wounds.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to the other man. “Rhys, once you’re on your feet, I want you to make certain that the perimeter is secure and give Keane a proper burial.”
“I’m on it,” Rhys replied with a wince as he shifted on the ground.
“All right, civilian, head into the police station and resupply yourself, then let me know when you’re ready to begin. Let’s move out, people!”
Haylen half-lifted Rhys to his feet. “All right, big guy, let’s go.”
“Yeah, yeah… I’m comin’,” he said in a strained voice with a hand pressed to his side.
Grey opened the door and Danse hovered behind them protectively as Haylen and Rhys made their slow way up the stairs inside the police station’s foyer. She was the last to enter and her eyes darted around the room greedily while attention was focused on getting Rhys settled in a chair. She had been hoping for some equipment to match the power armor that Danse wore, but she was disappointed to see what amounted to another ruined building. There were a handful of stimpacks on the reception counter along with an ammo box and that seemed to be the entirety of it unless she counted the three sleeping bags on the floor over to the right. Since Danse had directed that she resupply, Grey stepped to the counter and took a look inside the ammo box. It was all fusion cells and some .38 rounds, neither of which were useful to her. She let the lid drop closed with a click. She’d found live people, but perhaps this wasn’t going to be as lucrative as she had hoped. She moved to linger wistfully next to one of the sleeping bags and Haylen looked up from fussing over Rhys long enough to say, “Please, feel free.”
Grey lowered herself to the ground and let her head thunk back against the wall while Dogmeat sniffed around the room. Even the meager softness of the clean sleeping bag on hardwood felt like heaven. Danse was pacing restlessly in front of the reception desk and the whomp whomp of his heavy steps was almost soothing. She felt her eyelids start to droop, but then her stomach growled audibly. She yawned and began digging in her bag to see what she had. Some cold squirrel pieces skewered on sticks, a box of Instamash, two cans of Pork n’ Beans, three Nuka Colas and one Nuka Cherry, and a couple cans of purified water were all she had left.
“Hungry?” Haylen asked. Grey twitched, startled out of her drowsiness. The medic had finished with Rhys and come over to crouch next to her in an amiable way.
Grey nodded cautiously and the other woman smiled. “Well, I’ve had enough of the same rations to last three lifetimes. Would you like to trade?”
“Ah, sure. We could do that. What kind of rations do you have?”
Haylen laughed. “Mostly mystery meat in gravy, but there’s some instant coffee and gumdrops too.”
“Coffee!” Grey exclaimed. “Let’s see it.”
The women compared stocks and good-naturedly bartered back and forth. Haylen was especially excited by the sodas.
“Danse, she has some Nuka Cola! Why don’t you join us?”
He looked up from his pacing and frowned. “We should be on our way, Scribe. The transmitter won’t recover itself.”
Haylen replied, “Respectfully, Paladin, it’s dark now and the wastelander is exhausted. You could use some rest too, sir.”
Danse looked thoughtfully at Grey. Pretending a weak attempt to hide it, she yawned widely. “Your suggestion is noted, Haylen. Under the circumstances, I agree waiting until morning seems wise.”
He clanked heavily to the next room and there was a loud hiss as the power armor suit opened and closed. He returned to the main room wearing a form-fitting orange and cream jumpsuit that matched the other man’s. As he removed his tight hood revealing thick dark hair to match his stubble, he gave Grey a grim look. “I should warn you, civilian. I have no objections to fraternizing with the locals in this case but, if you give me cause, I’ll eject you from this compound immediately.
“Not a problem,” Grey replied pleasantly. The paladin certainly was easy on the eyes for a CO with a stick up his ass. She knew the type well and he wouldn’t be much of a challenge to manipulate.
“See that it’s not.” His tone was gruff as he leaned against the wall next to her, but he took the Cherry Nuka Haylen handed up to him. Rhys was staring daggers at her across the room from his chair even after Haylen handed him a soda. That was fine. She didn’t expect to be completely trusted right out of the gate. It would require some more work, but she was off to a good start.
As Danse took a long drink, Dogmeat stopped sniffing around the main room and came to sit in front of him. He tilted his head endearingly and whined. Danse stared at him for a moment, then leaned over to ruffle his ears. Good boy, thought Grey approvingly. Who can resist a dog?
“That’s a fine animal you have.”
“Thank you, Paladin. I’m lucky he decided to follow me around.”
“The Brotherhood has combat-trained dogs back at the Citadel,” Haylen said. “He’d fit right in with the way he helped with those ferals.”
There was a long silent pause as Haylen experimentally chewed her squirrel on a stick and Grey poked at what Haylen had said was chicken in gravy. Rhys continued to stare over the Nuka Cola he’d barely touched. This was bad. She needed to keep things moving in an agreeable direction. Grey turned to Danse who’d almost finished his soda and was scratching the German Shepherd’s chin. “Paladin, you said you’re from the Brotherhood of Steel, but I’m not familiar with them.”
His eyes didn’t exactly light up, but Grey could tell she’d hit on a favorite subject. “Our order seeks to understand the nature of technology. Its power. Its meaning to us as humans,” he said seriously. “ And we fight to secure that power from those who would abuse it.”
It sounded like an excuse to hoard technology, but Grey said, “Seems like a noble cause. Any measures to stop another apocalypse would be justified.” She was surprised to not disagree though. One big boom was enough. And why not keep what you found for yourself if you had the strength to hold it?
“I’m pleased that you agree. There are very few outside the Brotherhood who appreciate the gravity of the situation we’re facing as a species,” Danse said with an approving nod.
Rhys grunted. “It would be nice if more of you civilians appreciated the effort we go to to protect you from the wasteland freaks.”
Danse turned to him. “It’s our responsibility to spread the word of the Brotherhood’s mission, Rhys. Once they see the necessity of the work we do, we’ll win their hearts and minds.”
Mystery meat finished, Grey didn’t bother to hide her yawn this time. That was enough progress for one night. “Would you be more comfortable if I moved to another room overnight?”
“No, take one of the sleeping bags in here,” Danse answered. “We’ll be taking turns on watches throughout the night so we’ll only require two sleeping bags at a time.
Grey smiled in genuine appreciation. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.” She made herself comfortable on the sleeping bag, careful not to dirty it with her muddy boots, and settled her hat over her eyes. Dogmeat curled up next to her and yawned but kept a watchful eye on the room. She heard Danse say quietly, “I want you to take it easy for a while, Rhys. You almost bought it when those ferals rushed us.”
“Don’t worry about me, sir. I can still pull my own weight.”
“I said take it easy. No more long range patrols or recon sweeps until further notice. Understood, Knight?” Danse said sternly.
“Yes, sir.” Rhys sounded resigned.
She should be more worried about sleeping in a room with a group of strangers, she thought. They were so familiar though. The tough but fair CO, the hard ass officer, the friendly medic. They wouldn’t have been out of place in her private military company before the War. It was comforting to know that some things didn’t change even if the entire world did. She drifted off to sleep with an unexpected warm feeling in her chest. Dogmeat would keep an eye on things for her, but Grey had a strong hunch they had nothing to worry about here.
*******
The elevator dinged as it hit the top floor. Dogmeat bounded out when the doors opened and Grey stepped smoothly out behind him. The room they were in appeared to be clear of synths, thank god. She’d had enough of that today. Danse clanked past her out into the muddy yard and the sunshine of the clear day.
“All clear out here, civilian,” he said as he surveyed the exterior of ArcJet Systems. “Well, that could have gone smoother, but mission accomplished.”
“Any one you walk away from is a good one they say. Of course, they never saw the dog’s breakfast we just walked away from,” Grey said with a grin.
Danse looked surprised but nodded. “An accurate assessment. That sweep was sloppy. We were caught unprepared more than once, which is unacceptable.” He removed his helmet with a grunt of effort. “However, your extra gun gave us the edge we needed. I'm not certain I could have accomplished the mission alone.”
“Thanks. I thought our teamwork was on point at least.”
“Agreed. It's a refreshing change to work with a civilian who can follow orders properly,” he replied as he tucked his helmet under his arm. “That being said, I believe we have two important matters to discuss. First and foremost, if you'll hand me the Deep Range Transmitter, I'd like to compensate you for your assistance during this operation.” Grey rooted around in her pocket and held out the small device. “I think you'll find this weapon useful. It's my own personal modification of the standard Brotherhood laser rifle. May it serve you well in battle.” Danse handed her the laser rifle he’d been using since they met.
Grey asked incredulously, “Your primary weapon? Are you sure?”
“My backup weapon will be more than adequate. I insist.”
Grey took the gun and looked it over. She preferred ballistic weapons herself, but even she could tell that the rifle had been modified and maintained by an expert. She was surprised to feel a little touched by the gesture. “Well, thank you, Paladin.”
“You're welcome, civilian.” Danse cleared his throat. “Now... as far as the second matter goes, I wanted to make you a proposal. It’s irregular to recruit in the field, but these are irregular circumstances. We had a lot thrown at us back there. Our op could have ended in disaster, but you kept your cool and handled it like a soldier.”
Grey smiled. “I appreciate that, sir.” ‘Like a soldier?’ It’s almost like it wasn’t my first rodeo, she thought.
“There's no doubt in my mind that you've got what it takes. The way I see it, you've got a choice. You could spend the rest of your life wandering from place to place, trading an extra hand for a meager reward. Or, you could join the Brotherhood of Steel and make your mark on the world. What do you say?”
I’m all the way in that easily, Grey thought in shock. That’s all it took? “I’d say this is more than a meager reward. But what would be expected of me if I joined?” she asked.
“You'd be under my command, and I'd expect you to follow orders. No more mercenary work... this is the real thing.” Grey rolled her eyes internally, but perked up as Danse continued. “You'd have access to advanced military weapons, as well as your own personal suit of Power Armor. Most importantly, you'd have the Brotherhood at your back... ready to spill its own blood to keep you alive. Can we count on you?”
She counted mentally to three and pretended to look pensive. Finally, she said decisively, “I'd be honored to join.”
“That's what I wanted to hear,” Danse replied with a satisfied nod. “Let’s head back to the police station and finalize the details.”
Grey trailed him back to the road along with Dogmeat. The Brotherhood might not look like much in the Commonwealth right now, but this was an investment in the future and it sounded like it had the potential to be impressively profitable. Not bad for a day’s work, she thought. Not bad at all.