Chapter 1: Welcome to the Wasteland
Chapter Text
Nate looked over the bluff, still dazed. Behind him, the lift to Vault 111 had sealed itself. Spread out below him, Sanctuary Hills was a ruin. “Oh… oh God.” He ran past the security booth to the path, noting several sets of human bones. It’s all the people who were stopped at the gate. Why didn’t Vault-Tec just let them in? He staggered down the hill, tripped as he crossed the small footbridge, scrambled to his feet and headed for the road. The houses were weather-beaten, their windows shattered, paneling faded or missing; some had fully collapsed. Keep it together. Can’t lose it right now. Shaun. Have to find Shaun. Nate had no idea where to go, so he headed for home.
He heard an indistinct metallic buzzing in the air, along with… a voice? Nate came out from between two houses and saw the spiderlike shape of a Mr. Handy utility robot, silvery plating badly tarnished. It was hovering in front of his house, trimming the scraggly brown bushes with its buzz saw arm. Nate’s eyes widened and he headed right for the robot. It can’t be… can it? “Codsworth?”
The robot angled one of its three eye stalks towards him, then it jolted and spun to face him. “Master Nate? It can’t be!”
Nate sighed with relief, hearing the ridiculous ‘British butler’ voice. “Codsworth, you made it!”
“Hah!” The robot snorted and waved his blowtorch. “A little radiation won’t stop the pride of General Atomics from completing our duties!” He swiveled one eye towards the yard. “The garden could be in better shape, I admit. 200 years is a long time to keep wisteria in check.”
“Wait…” Nate shook his head. “I’ve been in the vault for 200 years?”
Codsworth rubbed his casing with his manipulator claw. “A bit over 210, actually, give or take a little for drift in the old chronometer. And the front garden is still the envy of the neighborhood. Had to do some transplanting, though. Wasn’t really sure what to choose. I’m not used to these sort of decisions… that’s always been the missus. Where is she, by the way?”
“Nora’s… dead. Murdered.” Nate shook his head. “And Shaun’s been kidnapped. I need to find him. Have you seen anyone moving through town?”
Codsworth’s eyes retracted slightly. “Sir… these terrible things you’re saying. I believe you need a distraction. Checkers perhaps, or charades?”
Nate blinked. Can a robot be in denial? He took a step forward and laid a hand on the robot’s main body. “Codsworth. My son’s in trouble. I need your help. Are you with me?”
The robot actually flinched, then his eyestalks drooped. “Oh sir, it’s been just horrible! Two centuries with no one to talk to, no one to serve. I had hoped to maintain the house so you could use it when the Vault opened. I held out hope for decades, thinking perhaps young Shaun might emerge one day. I thought you were all gone. And there was nothing I could do… but I can help now.” He swept his eyestalks around the neighborhood, then back to Nate. “I’m sorry, sir, I haven’t seen anyone in the area recently.” He paused a moment. “The world is much changed since you went into the Vault. There are no police to call, no real government. But there are people living in the Boston area. You could see if anyone has any news. Concord isn’t too far, just a short walk.”
“Concord.” Nate rubbed his chin. “I suppose that’s as good a place as any to start.”
Codsworth held up his claw. “Master Nate, you must take care. I have explored the area for supplies to maintain myself over the years. Some people were willing to talk or trade. Others are hostile and quite violent. And the radiation has altered the wildlife.”
Nate nodded. “There were giant cockroaches inside the Vault. They attacked me.”
“The locals call them radroaches. Troublesome, but there’s much worse out there.” Codsworth gestured to the air. “You’ll also have to watch for monster flies and mosquitoes, and there are larger predators, too; please try to return before dark. In fact… come with me a moment.” Codsworth floated into the house, and Nate followed. It was a mess, full of fallen ceiling tiles and leaves blown in from outside. Some of the furniture was missing, and what remained was in rough shape, though a few pieces looked serviceable.
“When the alarm sounded, I tried to preserve some things from the house. I’m afraid I assumed Vault-Tec would handle the necessities; I saved items of sentimental value.” Codsworth reached the master bedroom and pulled a sealed steel trunk out of the closet. “Most of this isn’t much help; your Army commission, medals and ribbons, Mistress Nora’s law degree, some other documents and books, a photo album or two… but I did save your sidearm.”
He retrieved a hard case from the bottom of the trunk. Nate set it on the windowsill and lifted the lid. Most Army officers carried the 10mm handgun which the U.S. military had been using since the 2040s. Not Nate: inside the box was his well-cared-for .45 Colt automatic, first carried by his great-great-grandfather during World War II. It had been over a century old when Nate’s father passed it on to him, but it was still reliable and as hard-hitting as the day it was made. Nate took the 1911, holster, and two spare magazines. There was one partially-full box of ammo in the case. Nate attached the holster to his belt; the magazines went into one belt pouch, the spare ammo into another.
Nate stepped into the bathroom. He took a look at himself in the tarnished mirror, trying to get a handle on things. His reflection looked just like he expected it would: six feet even, light brown skin, dark eyes, reddish-brown curly hair, and a bewildered expression. He shook himself and headed out.
“Master Nate.” Codsworth was hovering just outside the front door. “I know you will go to the ends of the earth to see Shaun safe. I urge you to consider yourself as well.” Codsworth handed Nate a steel bottle. “My condenser is meant more for convenience than as a survival measure. I can produce at most a liter of purified water per day, and that’s not enough. While you’re looking for your son, I will try and get some kind of shelter arranged, and search the neighborhood for supplies.” He pointed towards a nearby house. “Mr. Baker constructed a makeshift shelter in the root cellar beneath his house. He was away from home when the bombs fell, and the cellar remains sealed. I suspect it contains useful tools or supplies, but the lock is quite sturdy. It could take me several days to break it; my saw is not meant for hardened steel.”
Nate took the bottle and clipped it to his belt. “Forget the cellar for now. Shelter, firewood, food and water if you can find it. I’ll head for Concord; if I pick up Shaun’s trail, I’ll follow it. If not, I’ll be back by sundown and figure out what to do next.”
Codsworth bobbed his center eye. “Good luck, sir.”
Nate’s face hardened. “You should have said good hunting.” He started down the road southeast out of town.
The Pip-Boy wrist computer was an unfamiliar weight on Nate’s arm, but it was comfortable enough. He took a moment to discover the device’s capabilities. It was similar to the one he’d been issued during his second tour in Manchuria. It could connect to other devices with a retractable cable. It had some sort of scanner and detector, along with targeting software. But that required a heads-up display, and he didn’t have one. It could also track his biometrics, and had basic navigation, writing and spreadsheet programs, and a radio. Just out of curiosity, he tried the radio. Most frequencies were static, but he did find music and hear a reference to someplace called “Diamond City.” Nate cut off the radio and kept walking.
Just across the replica Old North Bridge and past the Minuteman memorial statue was the Red Rocket gas station. Nate kept going, but made a note on his Pip-Boy to search the building on his way back. Then he heard the breathing. He slowed, remembering Codsworth’s warning about predators. He put his hand on his pistol and looked for the source of the sound. He tensed at the large furry shape coming out from the shadows under the station awning… but it was a dog. A German shepherd. Wagging his tail. He approached Nate, then stopped about ten feet away.
“Hi there…” Nate eyed the dog cautiously. He wasn’t mangy, and looked well-fed, but didn’t have a collar. He was big enough to be a serious threat, but looked friendly. Nate crouched down, slowly, extending his hand for the dog to smell. The dog trotted up and sniffed, then rubbed his head against Nate’s hand. Nate took the hint and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. “Hey, buddy, where’s your owner?”
The dog made a happy grumble, then his ears pricked up. He hopped away from Nate and growled. Nate straightened up, but the dog wasn’t growling at him, instead facing the building. His head was down, and his ears were flat against his head; something had him spooked. Nate drew his pistol and flicked off the safety, but kept his finger off the trigger and the gun pointed at the ground. He scanned the building and the surrounding landscape for the threat, and saw nothing. He was about to relax when a horrible pink creature burst out of the ground with a snarl. It leapt at him, only for the dog to seize it in midair. Nate tried to get a look but another one popped up and raced in at him from the left. Nate swung around, too slow to get a shot off. The thing, whatever it was, sprang at him, snapping its huge yellow buckteeth. Nate ducked and flailed his left arm, deflecting the creature over his head. It hit the ground and he kicked it, hard, sending it tumbling into one of the gas pumps. Nate started turning in place, watching for any more of the little monsters. The dog finished off the creature he’d pounced on and went after the one Nate had kicked. Two more popped up in front of the garage and headed for Nate. He was ready this time; he brought the gun up and fired twice. He missed his first shot-the little bastard was fast-but the second hit dead center. The second creature tunneled into the dirt like it was diving into a lake. Nate sprinted for the building, which sat on a concrete foundation. Hopefully, the creatures wouldn’t be able to come up right under him.
The garage was a mess, garbage, leaves, and old gear strewn around. Nate took a quick look around, holstered his .45, and grabbed a hammer from a rusty tool chest. The dog raced in and stopped in the garage doorway. More of the creatures came running, at least half a dozen. The dog tackled one; Nate kicked a second and bashed the third with his hammer. He beat down the one he’d kicked, then heard the dog bark in alarm. It was surrounded by four of the things. Nate ran to help. He killed one and the dog got another before the last two ran off. Nate drew his pistol and shot them both.
“Jesus.” Nate tossed the hammer aside and prodded one of the creatures with his foot. It was some kind of rodent, hairless but for its whiskers. It was the size of a large cat, with wrinkled skin and tiny eyes; it looked nearsighted or even blind. “And I used to think the squirrels were a problem!”
He took a swig from his water bottle and topped off his pistol magazine, then stood. The dog trotted up to him and wagged his tail. Nate gave him a pat on the head. “Thanks, fella.”
Nate started off down the hill towards Concord; the dog followed two steps behind. Nate stopped and the dog came up by his side, looked up and bayed. Nate grinned. “Okay. Let’s stick together, boy.” The pair got moving down the road.
Concord was unsettling. It was one of the oldest towns in America, but the historic buildings had been kept in good condition; now, some were boarded up, and others partially collapsed. Cars that had crashed when the bombs fell were still sitting in the street, along with sandbags from an old checkpoint. At the town center, the Museum of Freedom was still draped with faded bunting… and a Vertibird had crashed into the roof. He didn’t see any signs of life, so he headed further in. That’s when he heard the first shots.
Nate reacted instinctively; he took cover in a doorway and brought out his handgun. He scanned the area, then dashed across the street to duck behind a corner. The dog ran ahead, growling. Nate moved again, sliding behind a rusting car. He took a peek; several people were shooting at the Museum of Freedom, at the end of the street. They were dressed very strangely, ordinary shirts and jeans mixed with biker leathers, and what looked like rags sewn together. Over top of that was some kind of homemade armor. As Nate watched, someone on the third-floor balcony fired a laser down into the street, felling one of the attackers. The others took cover behind cars and sandbags, firing wildly towards the building.
“We’re going to gut you!” One of the men in the street loosed a burst of automatic fire. “You fuckers are all dead!”
Nate backed away. He didn’t know who, if anyone, were the good guys, and he didn’t want to fight anybody if he could help it. But then the dog slammed into one of the attackers from behind, knocking him down. Three of the others turned. One ran at the dog with a tire iron, then saw Nate and pointed. Nate ducked as bullets came his way. He came up to see the man with the tire iron coming at him. He raised his .45 and fired twice into the man’s chest. As the man fell, a woman screamed with rage and aimed a rifle at him. He dropped prone as rounds thudded into the car and the wall behind him. Well, I’m in it now. Nate swore, then rolled out and fired. The woman took cover and called for help. Now the rest of the attackers noticed, and so did the man on the balcony. The woman fired again, missing high. The defender up top blasted her to ash. The remaining attackers realized they were flanked; they sprayed the car to pin Nate down and ran for a store to his right. He moved up, dropping behind a pile of sandbags. A couple gunmen opened up from behind the counter inside the building and Nate huddled behind the barricade. He saw movement above, then there was a flash of red, and a man fell out of the upstairs window. Nate waved his thanks to the balcony and took aim at the store. There was nothing to shoot at; the remaining gunmen were hunkered down. It was a stalemate for half a minute, then the dog snarled and dashed into the store, leaping over the counter. There was panicked yelling and four men ran out. The dog bit down on one’s arm and dragged him to the ground. Nate emptied his magazine, felling two, and the marksman got the last.
“Hey! Up here!” The man on the balcony waved wildly at Nate. “I’ve got a group of settlers inside, and the raiders are almost through the door!” He pointed at the museum’s front steps. “Grab that laser musket and help us, please!”
Before Nate could respond, he’d ducked into the building. There was the sound of another laser shot, along with muffled gunfire and screams. Nate headed for the door, sliding a fresh magazine into his pistol. He holstered the .45 and looked to see what the hell a ‘laser musket’ was. There was a body on the front steps; next to it was a very strange weapon. It had the boxy green barrel of a laser rifle, mounted to a wooden stock with some sort of hand-crank mechanism down by the grip. Nate examined it more closely and understood. The standard laser rifle held its fusion cells in a magazine, loading a new cell after each shot. This “musket” was a clever way to make a useful weapon out of a broken laser. Each turn of the crank fed a cell into the chamber, essentially a bolt-action laser rifle. Nate grabbed the dead man’s weapon and pouch of cells and headed inside, with the dog right behind.
The Museum of Freedom was a wreck. Once, it had been a fun if a little corny look at the Revolutionary War. Now, the Vertibird’s right wing and engine were jutting through the shattered skylight, tattered banners hung from the ceiling, and debris was piled here and there. The defenders had barricaded themselves in the offices, up on the third floor at the front of the building. They’d locked the gate which separated the entry hall to the museum proper, but the raiders had broken through the wall and gone around. The raiders were on the second and third floor mezzanine, trading fire with the settlers. They were focused on the office, and didn’t see Nate come in. As he watched, one man howled a battle cry and charged the door with a sledgehammer. He was five feet away when he took a laser to the chest. The other raiders blazed away, still paying no attention to the floor below. Nate took advantage of their distraction to draw a bead on a raider on the second floor. Lasers didn’t kick when fired, but they did make a lot of light and noise. The junk armor did nothing to stop the beam. One down. The flash happened so fast the other raiders didn’t spot him; they knew they were under attack, but not from where. Nate cranked the musket and ducked through the hole in the wall, which is when things started to go wrong. He stepped into an exhibit where the power was on… and the motion detectors were working. The lights came on, and a recording started playing with fife and drum music and a voiceover. Shit. Nate groaned-he could hear a couple raiders coming to investigate. He moved through a display on the Boston Massacre and stepped onto the deck of a fake ship with Mohawk-disguised mannequins throwing tea overboard. Nate waved the dog down, crouched behind a pile of crates, and hooked his foot around one of the mannequins, listening for footsteps.
In half a minute, he heard them, then a pair of raiders came into the room. One was carrying a double-barreled shotgun, the other had an odd-looking rifle. Nate nudged the mannequin, which wobbled and fell. The raiders saw a man-shape moving and blasted it, scattering wood and plastic across the room. The shotgunner had fired both barrels, so Nate popped up and shot the rifleman dead. The other raider realized he’d never have time to reload, threw the empty gun at Nate, and charged in with a switchblade. Nate tried to parry the knife with the barrel of his musket; he avoided being stabbed in the belly but took a nasty cut to the ribs. He growled and bashed the guy in the head with the stock of his musket, sending him staggering. The dog leapt for his throat before he could recover.
With a moment to breathe, Nate felt his side burning from the wound. He wasn’t about to bleed out, but it was deep enough to be a problem. He searched the dead men for anything he could use to bandage the wound and struck gold: the rifleman had a stimpak. The plastic syringe held a combination of antiseptic, painkiller, and wound glue. He squirted it along the cut, pinching it shut. The bleeding stopped, and after a few seconds of stinging, so did the pain. Nate slung the musket over his shoulder, and took the raider’s shotgun and ammo. He came out of the exhibit behind the gate and headed for the staircase. He backed up the stairs, watching for more raiders. There were still two on the third floor, shooting at the office. One glanced back, swore, and yelled something into a door. Nate tried to switch to the musket, but the raider ducked out of sight. He kept going, stepping from the second-floor mezzanine into another hallway leading to an exhibit space. He brought the shotgun up; it didn’t have great sights, but in these close quarters, it didn’t matter.
“We should get out of here.” Nate slowed as he heard raiders in the room ahead. “This new guy isn’t some soft farmer. He’s iced at least six of us, and that dog is mean as hell.”
“Stop being such a fuckin’ pansy!” The voice was gruff, angry. “We just keep him pinned down. They got a signal off to Jared. He’s sending Gristle with backup, at least three dozen guns. We’ll handle this asshole.”
You will, will you? Nate took a breath, let it out, and mentally ran through the situation. Round the corner fast, run in shooting? Not going to work, they know I’m coming. Need them off balance. Send the dog? He’ll get shot, and I’ll be no better off. He wavered a moment, but there were more raiders coming, and he couldn’t afford to wait. He flattened himself against the wall, then popped out, fired both barrels, ducked back, and hit the deck. Bullets tore through the wall above his head and someone was yelling in pain. Nate left the shotgun on the floor and rounded the corner with his pistol. One of the raiders was on the floor groaning, the other was just a second too slow to react; Nate shot him three times. He checked the wounded man, who was dying slowly from a belly wound. Nate hesitated, then finished him with a shot to the head. He retrieved and reloaded the shotgun, then headed for the stairs. There were two raiders left on the third floor, shouting threats at the settlers in the office. Nate moved in fast with the dog running ahead, giving them no time to react. He killed one with the shotgun; the other tried to avoid the dog and fell screaming to the entry hall below. The office door opened, and a man called out to Nate.
“Come on in, stranger, and thank you.” The speaker was a young black man wearing a tan duster over an embroidered blue waistcoat, black pants, and heavy boots. He wore a slouch hat and carried a laser musket with a scope. “I don’t know who you are, but your timing’s impeccable.” He held out a hand. “Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.”
Minutemen? Nate walked in and shook hands. “I’m Nathan Connolly, and this isn’t over. I overheard a couple of the raiders say…”
Preston nodded grimly. “That more are coming, I know. We got about a half hour before they get here.” He indicated the other people in the room: two men and two women. One of the women was elderly, and one of the men was shell-shocked and near catatonic. “These aren’t soldiers here, just folks looking for a new home.” He looked Nate right in the eye. “Sir, will you help us?”
Nate nodded. “Yes, I will. How many of you can fight?”
“Preston’s been in a couple scraps before.” The speaker was a tall, muscular man in denim overalls. “The rest of us at least know which end of a gun is which. I’m Sturges. That’s Jun and Marcy Long, and Mama Murphy on the couch.”
“Call me Nate.” He crossed his arms. “First things first, search all the dead raiders. Anything they got that we can use, guns, ammo, chems, anything.”
Preston smiled. “Actually, we got an idea about that, now that we’re not pinned in here.”
“That crashed Vertibird on the roof,” Sturges said. “It’s armed with a minigun, but the thing weighs better than a hundred pounds. But there’s also a suit of power armor up there. It’s hard to use without training, but if we could just move the gun, I could rig some kind of tripod...”
Nate cut him off. “I know how to use power armor. I can carry the minigun, but the armor will need power.”
“There’s a fusion generator in the basement, core there is full,” Sturges replied.
“Right.” Nate nodded. “Preston, keep a look out. Sturges, let’s grab the core and search the first floor and the basement, then get the armor set up. The Longs do the same on the second and third floors. All supplies back here.”
Everyone stood… except Jun Long, who sat slumped, head down. Marcy grabbed his shoulders. “Get up. Get up now. We need everyone.”
Jun’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Marcy shook him, and he looked up at her. “Marcy, I’m sorry.”
“Dammit, we don’t have time for this!” she growled. “We have to get moving.”
The group split up and got to work. Twenty minutes later, they had gathered in the office. Sturges had taken apart several pipe guns, and was assembling the best pieces. Preston was out on the balcony, watching for the raiders. Mama Murphy was cutting bandages from the raiders’ clothes. Nate, Jun, and Marcy were sorting the ammo and filling magazines. Nate rubbed his chin. “Right. We got me in armor with the big gun, plus four more to hold the building. Here’s how we set up.”
“Who the hell put you in charge?” Marcy snapped.
“Marcy,” Jun began, but she waved angrily and he fell silent.
“You saw the way he busted through those raiders,” Sturges said, tightening a screw. He grinned at Nate. “Seems to me you know how to win a fight.”
Marcy shook her head, glaring. “Probably because he’s a merc, or a raider himself. Why should we trust you?”
“Because Dogmeat does,” Mama Murphy said quietly. The old woman reached down and gave the German shepherd a pat. “He knows good people. He went for help, and he found it.”
Nate snorted. “Your dog is named Dogmeat?”
Mama laughed. “He’s not my dog, son. You can’t own a free spirit like that, but I think he’s decided to stick by you.” She ruffled Dogmeat’s ears. “You take care of him, and he’ll take care of you.”
“Well, thank you.” Nate winked at the dog. “I’m afraid I don’t have a bone from the butcher, but I’ll see what I can come up with later.”
Sturges came over to them, carrying a pipe carbine in each hand. “All right, this is what we have to work with. I threw together two solid weapons from that pile of parts, plus the muskets and shotgun. Plenty of .38 for the pipe guns, maybe fifty cells for the muskets, and about twenty shells, all buckshot. There’ll be more on the raiders outside, but we don’t have time to get it.”
Mama nodded. “Preston’s the best shot by far. Give him both muskets; I’ll load for him, and patch up anyone who gets hurt.”
“Right.” Nate rubbed his cheek. “I’m in armor with the minigun; I keep them from rushing us. Preston’s on the balcony picking people off with the muskets.” He turned to Preston. “Your priority is hostiles who are attacking you, advancing on the building, or if they’re behind me. I’ll take care of anyone attacking from my front. If they stay in cover, I’ll drive them out. If they run away, let them go.”
Preston raised his eyebrows. “Let them go?”
“Let them go,” Nate repeated firmly. “We don’t have a whole lot of ammo to spare. If they’re running away, they’re not coming after us. Besides, I’m not a huge fan of killing people I don’t have to.” He looked around the room. “The rest of you, hold the entry hall in case someone gets past us. The ticket booths are a good spot, you should be able to bottleneck them in the doorway.” Nate finished loading his magazines with the last of his .45 ammo. “Hopefully, once I open up with the heavy gun, they’ll run for it.”
“Here’s your chance to find out.” Preston brought his musket up to shoulder. “There’s movement at the end of the street.” Sturges tossed the fusion core; Nate caught it and dashed for the roof. Behind him, Preston fired his first shot, and the raiders dove for cover.
Nate emerged onto the roof behind the wrecked Vertibird and slowed to a stop. Standing next to the wreck was a set of T-45a power armor, an eight-foot powered exoskeleton with bolt-on armor plates. Nate slammed the core into the socket in back. There was a hiss and hum as the armor powered up. Nate twisted the locking wheel; the back plate swung up and the arms and legs opened. Nate stepped into the armor, which closed around him. He felt the usual flash of claustrophobia inside the massive helmet, which passed just like he remembered. The armor connected to his Pip-Boy, and data started appearing on his HUD: core charge, armor status… and sensor data from the targeting system. He quickly designated the five humans and dog inside the Museum as friendlies; he’d get a warning if they were in the line of fire. Time to move. The T-45 was a little awkward; it felt a little like walking in sand. Nate stomped toward the Vertibird, where the minigun rested on its swivel mount. Nate released the lock and lifted the gun off the mount. It had a full ammo can, and Nate took the spare can from a bracket on the bulkhead. His HUD updated with his ammo status and a weapon heat indicator. He hefted the gun and strode towards the fight.
Chapter 2: Monsters and Minutemen
Summary:
Nate meets a group of refugees, survivors from an attack on a town to the south. He makes the decision to help them against a gang of merciless Raiders-and learns that the Commonwealth holds threats the Great War never prepared him for...
Chapter Text
Preston fired the last shot in his musket. He took the one Mama Murphy had loaded; she started shoving cells into the empty one. He took aim-grumbling at the lack of a scope-and pulled the trigger, missing high. The raider slid behind a car, then poked his head out, and this time, Preston didn’t miss. He cranked the action, looking for more targets. Four raiders appeared at the end of the street. Preston killed one of them, but the others immediately returned fire. Their pipe guns weren’t particularly accurate, and they didn’t even hit the balcony. Preston aimed and fired again, but the raiders ducked into a building. They started shooting back from cover as even more raiders came charging down the street. Preston shot another gunman, but the man’s armor stopped most of it. They were getting closer now, and their shots were getting closer, too. He had to weave back and forth to throw their aim off. He wounded a raider in the leg, then finished him off with his last shot. Preston swapped muskets again, and tried to line up a shot. A bullet missed his head by inches; a raider was sniping at him from a second-floor window. Preston ducked inside the building, taking cover in the doorway.
Three raiders ran for the store next to the museum on Preston’s left. Another group came down the cross street from the right side. Both sprayed the upper windows, then headed for the front door. They ran into a hail of gunfire from Jun and Sturges, shooting from cover. Two made it past them and sprinted for the hole in the wall; they were met by Marcy’s shotgun and Dogmeat’s teeth. Preston tried to step out on the balcony, only to be driven back by heavy fire. The sniper had moved, and was up on the roof of the store. The raider leader Gristle was behind a car at the end of the street. He was wearing tough-looking steel armor and brandishing a big pipe machine gun. Preston moved to one of the boarded-up windows, took aim through a small gap, and blasted one of the raiders. He dropped prone before a hail of bullets shredded the plywood and shattered the window. The marksman shot at Preston again; he scrambled out of the way. He returned fire, missing high.
There was a heavy thud and dust rained down from the ceiling. Another thud, and another. The raider sniper spun to look up, then there was a high-pitched whir followed by a loud buzz. The sniper was cut in half. Nate stepped to the edge of the roof, sweeping his minigun left to right, triggering off short bursts to conserve ammo. Three raiders fell before the rest ran into the buildings. Several fired back, but the pistol rounds bounced off his armor. This freed Preston to come back out onto the balcony. He took careful aim and fired into the store, turning a raider to ash. Two more ran for it; Nate held his fire as they fled in panic. There was a sudden quiet as the raiders hesitated.
“Time to cut your losses.” Nate jumped from the roof, hitting the sidewalk with a boom. His voice echoed across the town, amplified by his helmet’s built-in megaphone. “You’re outgunned, and you aren’t getting through power armor with those junk guns of yours. If you retreat now, we’ll let you go.” He spun up the minigun, filling the air with its deadly hum. “But if anybody starts shooting again, I’m coming down the street and make mincemeat of every last one of you. Walk away while you still can.”
“Screw you, sodbuster!” Gristle took aim from behind a brick building. “I want this one’s heart on a fucking plate. Anybody runs, I’ll kill you myself. Now get him!”
Another sniper fired at Nate from an upper window. The round clanged off his chest plate, but the bang sounded like a full-sized rifle round, and that could hurt if it hit a gap in the armor. He returned fire, tearing a huge hole in the building, but the sniper had moved. Preston shot Gristle, but his armor stopped the beam. Preston cursed and swapped muskets. Nate started advancing down the street, head on a swivel. The raiders kept shooting, using the buildings to stay hidden. Nate was taking hits, but they weren’t doing any damage. Then somebody threw a Molotov cocktail. It hit his shoulder and shattered, covering him in flames. The burning liquid trickled through the armor’s joints, searing Nate’s elbow. He snarled and rushed the building the firebomb had come from, smashing through the front wall and extinguishing the flames. The raiders inside were already running for the back door, but Nate cut them down with one long burst. More gunfire came in from all angles. He kept turning, engaging any hostiles he could see in the buildings. Preston was picking off any raiders who left cover. One gunman broke and ran; Gristle shot him in the back. Two raiders popped up behind a car and threw firebombs. Nate saw them and swung his gun around, marking targets. The Pip-Boy’s sensors tracked the Molotovs, adjusted for lead, and displayed an aim point. Time seemed to slow as he lined up the shot. Only one chance to get this right. A long, continuous burst shattered the bottles in air; the flames fell short. Nate blasted the car’s reactor, which blew, killing both raiders.
Behind Nate, a second group of raiders rushed for the Museum. He spun and cut the first gunman down, then the ammo can ran out. Nate charged, trampling one raider and sending another flying with a backhand. He looked up towards the balcony. “Reloading-cover me!”
“Got it!” Preston stepped up to the railing, watching for raiders. There were plenty to choose from; they’d seen Nate run empty and were shooting at him from all over. He killed three raiders, but then the second sniper reappeared, forcing Preston to take him out first-meaning he wasn’t suppressing the raiders on the ground. Gristle shouted an order, and the remaining raiders charged with a yell, trying to swarm Nate before he could reload. Nate ejected the spent ammo can, realized he’d never get the new can loaded, and reached for his pistol.
And then a utility hatch in the street behind the raiders rang like a bell and bent upward.
The raiders stopped in their tracks as everyone heard a menacing growl. The attackers turned to face the sound. Nate didn’t know what had them worried, but he didn’t care. He holstered his sidearm and got to work loading the minigun. The hatch, already dented, rang again from a massive blow. A third impact smashed it into the air, and…
“What the fuck is that?” Nate was simply dumbfounded at the sight of a massive beast climbing out of the utility tunnel. It straightened up to a full height of nearly ten feet and let out a blood-chilling roar. It was vaguely reptilian, covered with leathery plates, with a pair of curving horns, sharp teeth, and vicious claws. It strode forward, long tail up and back for balance. The raiders started shooting at it, ignoring Nate and Preston. The pipe gun rounds mostly bounced off the beast’s thick hide. A few shots did draw blood, but that seemed to make the monster angry more than anything else. It bellowed and charged, surprisingly fast for an animal its size. Two raiders didn’t even have time to scream. The beast slashed low, cutting one raider nearly in two; it grabbed the other and bit a chunk out of his neck and shoulder. The remaining raiders fell back down the street toward the museum, firing away all the time. The ones in back hesitated when they saw Nate still behind them, with his minigun loaded. Nate hesitated, too, then spun up the gun and opened fire on the monster. His gun’s 5mm ammo was designed to penetrate light body armor, and it did a better job against the creature’s tough scales. Preston hit it with his laser from above. The beast roared and staggered, shielding its face and belly with its massive arms.
“Get the hell out of here!” Nate waved towards the roads out of town. “It can’t chase you all at once!”
Gristle fired a burst at Nate; the rounds bounced off his armor. “You don’t give my men orders! Burn the son of a bitch, then finish off those settler trash.”
The raiders started bombarding the creature with Molotovs. It screeched, still on fire, snapping and slashing with its claws. The beast killed one raider after another. The flames died out, but Gristle sprayed its face and shot out its left eye. A roar of pain, and it rushed him. Gristle aimed for the beast’s mouth and his gun jammed. The monster swung one claw into Gristle’s belly, impaling him, then grabbed him by the legs and tore him in half. The remaining raiders broke and ran. Nate couldn’t do the same; he was far too slow in his armor. He held the trigger down as the beast came at him, riddling it with over two hundred rounds. The creature was bleeding, but just wouldn’t go down. And then Nate’s second ammo can ran out.
Nate dropped the empty gun, set his feet, and braced himself as the monster charged. The… thing… slashed for his head and neck. Nate blocked the swing with one arm; with no better option, he threw a punch, connecting with the upper chest. It responded with another big slash. Nate blocked again, but was knocked back a few steps. The massive creature clawed at him again, denting the armor on Nate’s right shoulder. Preston cursed from above; he couldn’t shoot with Nate so close. Nate swung his armored fist and whammed the monster in the ribs, but the big fucker wasn’t even winded. He followed up with a right cross to the jaw, taking advantage of the beast’s missing eye. The punch connected and snapped the beast’s head back. It roared and swung wildly. Nate blocked again; he protected himself, but the strike broke the armor plating off his right arm, exposing the frame beneath. Nate shifted his feet, keeping his vulnerable arm back and away from the monster’s teeth and claws. It circled him, trying to use its superior speed and agility to get behind him. Nate decided to take a chance. He lunged forward, grabbed the beast’s tail, then pulled it towards him and punched its knee, hoping to bring it down. The creature staggered, Nate stomped on its foot, and it roared in pain. Nate tried to finish the job with a left hook to the head, but his steel gauntlet bounced off the beast’s tough horns. It grabbed him with one claw and lifted him clear off the ground. Nate punched it in the face, knocking out a tooth. The beast bellowed and slammed its other claw into his belly. The talons pierced Nate’s armor plate, but didn’t get to him inside. The monster ripped his chest armor off, then threw him into a building. He crashed through a brick wall and slid across the floor in a cloud of dust.
“We’ve got to help him!” Preston yelled over his shoulder. “Get up here and start shooting!” He took aim and fired again. Marcy, Jun and Sturges dashed upstairs. Jun and Sturges ripped boards off the windows and opened fire with their pipe rifles. Marcy’s shotgun didn’t have enough range, so she looked around for something she could use to help. Her eyes went wide and she raced out of the office.
Nate got to his feet, debris cascading off him, and stomped out into the street. The creature was snarling in frustration; its claw was still stuck in the wrecked piece of armor plate. Nate took the opportunity to search the dead raiders for weapons. The settlers were still shooting at the beast’s back, but they weren’t doing much. He needed something powerful to bring the thing down, and with his chest unprotected, he couldn’t afford even one mistake. He found a sawed-off shotgun… with the 2 rounds in the chamber and no more. Better than nothing. It’ll kill that thing if I get in close without getting shredded. The creature had gotten its claw free and advanced on Nate. He shielded his torso with his left arm, shotgun at the ready. The beast charged and Nate braced again. He blocked the slashing claws and stepped up, bringing the gun around. The creature saw and ducked its head. Nate fired both barrels and blasted a chunk of flesh out of its left shoulder and neck. The monster roared in pain, but didn’t fall. It grabbed Nate and pulled him in; he jammed the shotgun into the beast’s craw. It gagged and threw him again. Nate hit the street and rolled to the museum steps. He dragged himself up and eyed the beast. It bit down, snapping the shotgun into pieces, then spat it out. But Nate had done some serious damage: Its left arm hung limp, and it was advancing slower, watching him warily.
Marcy called from the balcony, then threw a sledgehammer, which hit the ground close by. Nate lifted it easily in one hand, left arm up defensively as the beast closed in. It cocked its arm for another attack and Nate slammed it in the side. The heavy sledge rocked the beast back and Nate wound up for another hit. He swung low, going for the leg on the creature’s blind side; it crashed to the ground. Nate brought the hammer down again, bashing the monster in the chest. It slashed at him again and Nate blocked, but the plating on his left arm shattered. He growled and hit the creature in the head. It tried to get up and Nate smashed its knee, then hit it over and over until it stopped moving.
Nate let out a deep breath. His hands were shaking and he ached all over; his arm itched and stung from the Molotov. He vaguely heard Preston yelling, but was too tired to focus. He opened the armor and almost fell out. Nate looked around at Concord, the once-familiar city pockmarked with bullet holes, the streets full of dead raiders and a giant reptilian monster. It was just surreal, far too much to process. He left the armor standing in the street and headed back inside the museum.
The settlers had gathered in the front hall. Dogmeat barked happily as he entered. Jun and Marcy were kneeling on the floor against the wall, packing a couple of backpacks. Mama Murphy was sitting on a bench with a faraway smile on her face. Sturges was bandaging a graze on his leg. And Preston ran up to him, beaming. “That was incredible! I’ve seen a Deathclaw go down before, but it usually takes a dozen guys, with serious firepower. You were just amazing fighting that thing.”
“Deathclaw, huh?” Nate drank the last of his water in one pull. “Never seen anything like it, and I sure as hell never want to again.” He put his hands on his hips. “Who were those guys, and why were they chasing you?”
“They don’t need a reason, they’re raiders!” Marcy spat. “They’re murdering scum, we should have killed them all!”
Sturges shook his head. “We ain’t killers, Marcy.” He folded his arms. “She’s right, though. Raiders are scum. They don’t grow anything, they don’t build or make anything for themselves, ‘cept maybe guns. That takes work. Easier to threaten or kill someone else, take what they got. They’re all over the Commonwealth.”
“Which is why we were here.” Preston shook his head. “These folks all lived in Quincy till the Gunners drove them out. We’re trying to find a safe place to settle, start over. Mama Murphy had an idea about one of the old communities. Little ways northwest of here, some place called Sanctuary.”
Nate blinked. “You were heading to Sanctuary Hills?”
“You know it?” Preston nodded. “That was the plan, but then on the road, we got jumped by a raider gang. Holed up in here, thought we were done, till you came along.” He rubbed his cheek. “Mr. Connolly, I’m sorry. I don’t have anything to thank you for-”
Nate waved him off. “I didn’t help out for money, but I need information. I’m looking for someone, but I’m new here, and there’s a lot of things I need to know. I’ve just come from Sanctuary, and it’s safe enough, at least for now. We can talk more on the way.”
Mama Murphy held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Jun, help me skin that Deathclaw. The hide is really tough, it’ll make good armor. Make the next time easier if we run into raiders again.” She glanced at Marcy. “Take a look around the town, see if there’s anything we can use. Still a couple hours to sundown.”
While the pair began peeling the massive carcass, the others spread out across Concord, checking the buildings and dead raiders. They did pretty well-ammo, medical supplies, and a little food, mostly ancient cans and packaged snacks. The Deathclaw had destroyed the minigun’s motor, but Sturges said it’d be useful for parts. He also picked up Gristle’s gun, better than the ones he’d been able to build. Preston made the big discovery in the alley between the museum and the church next door.
“It’s still here!” He stuck his head back around the corner. “Raiders were too busy shooting at us to steal our supplies! Hey, Sturges, give me a hand.”
“Yup!” Sturges ran after Preston; the two men emerged from the alley pulling a cart. It looked like someone had built a wooden box onto a car’s rear axle, and it held a handful of sacks and crates. Sturges helped Mama Murphy up onto the box, then he and Preston grabbed the bar and started heaving. They strained to move it; the tires were low and didn’t roll easily.
“Let me handle that.” Nate got back into the armor. He debated with himself a moment, then lifted the empty minigun into the box, then got behind the bar and pushed. The hydraulically boosted frame allowed him to pull the cart easily. He started up the road with the settlers walking alongside and Dogmeat trotting ahead.
“So, other than the raiders, have you seen anyone in the area?” Nate asked. “I’m trying to track a small group of people who would have been coming from the northeast.”
Preston shook his head. “We came from the south, and once we got to Concord, we were pinned inside the building.”
Nate nodded grimly. “So, you said you were from Quincy, but the Gunners drove you out.” First things first, let’s find out about the threats out here. “Who are the Gunners? Are they those raiders?”
Preston glowered. “Gunners are worse than raiders. They’re better armed and more organized, closer to an army than bandits. They’re mostly mercenaries, but they also raid settlements and traders, and even capture people to sell as slaves, but they don’t usually operate this far north.” He shook his head. “I got as many people out as I could before they overran Quincy, but it wasn’t enough.”
“You did something, at least.” Marcy sounded furious. “Your squad showed up and fought when we called for help. The rest of the Minutemen didn’t come when we needed them. They’re the reason the Gunners won! They’re why Kyle-why our son…” She trailed off; Jun reached out to her but she shook him off. Nate’s stomach twisted.
Preston continued, looking nervous. “So, we’ve been on the run ever since. A month ago, there were twenty of us. We tried Lexington, but it’s swarming with feral ghouls. Yesterday, there were eight of us, and then the raiders…”
Nate frowned. “What’s a ghoul?”
“They’re people, at least they used to be,” Sturges replied. “Radiation kills most folks, but some are different. They don’t die from the rads, or from anything else. After a couple weeks, they start… falling apart, real slowly. Hair falls out, skin comes off, but they just keep going. If they get hurt, they actually heal if they’re in radiation, the stronger the better. Ghouls can live pretty much forever as long as they get enough to eat. There are still some around from when the bombs fell. But they aren’t all the same. Some are just like people, ‘cept for their looks. But if their brains start to rot, they go feral. They can’t talk or think, just growl and attack anything that’s not a ghoul.”
“Did your Vault just open?” Preston asked. “I saw your jumpsuit, and most everyone in the Commonwealth-hell, in the whole wasteland-knows these things.”
“It’s a long story,” Nate replied. They were just passing the Red Rocket, and Nate glanced around cautiously. “Watch out, here. On my way here, I got attacked by these rodent things and had to kill a bunch.”
Preston raised his musket. “Mole rats. They live in colonies, eat pretty much anything. They’ll attack people if they’re alone, but they avoid groups.”
“Good eating, though,” Mama said. “You killed some?”
“At least half a dozen, I think.” Nate looked quickly, then pointed. “There, by the building.”
The old woman laughed. “Dinner! Grab some for me, would you? I’ll get to work on them while you set up camp.”
Sturges and Marcy retrieved the least-damaged carcasses, and the group kept going. Nate felt just a little better as Sanctuary came into view. Preston and Sturges steadied the back end of the cart as they crossed the rickety bridge, then it was just a matter of walking up the road to his house. The sun was just about gone as they came to a stop by his driveway. There was a small pile of wood under the carport roof.
Nate grinned. “Codsworth, I’m back!”
“So I see, Master Nate.” The robot hovered out of the side door, sounding distressed. “And I see you brought company. I’m very sorry, but I found very little when I searched the neighborhood. I have enough food for you for tonight, but I have no way of providing food or shelter for six.”
“We brought our own supplies-for a few days, anyway-and a leaky roof will do just fine.” Preston smiled. “We’re all very grateful to Nate, and we’ll help you get the place fixed up.”
Nate introduced everyone, then rolled the cart into the carport across the street, the former Rosa residence. He exited the power armor; the settlers began unloading while he headed into his old home with Codsworth trailing behind. There was a little food on the kitchen counter along with bottles of clearly dirty water. Codsworth had set up a sleeping area by moving the beat-up couch closer to the fireplace and hanging a couple of tattered rugs as curtains to keep the heat in. Nate chuckled to himself. When they’d bought the house, he hadn’t wanted to spend the extra money for a wood-burning fireplace; Nora had insisted that, along with being ‘cozy,’ it would be a backup in case of a power outage in the winter. And now not only was the power out, so were the windows and part of the roof. He stacked some sticks along with scraps of paper and cloth for kindling.
Codsworth ignited the fireplace with his torch. “Did you find anything?”
Nate shook his head. “They hadn’t seen anyone coming from this way. Shaun is out there, but to have any chance of finding him, I’ll need to try and find out more. Maybe there’s a town somewhere I can ask around. I’m going to talk to them over dinner, decide on my next move, then get some rest.”
“They look like good people, Master Nate.” The sticks were burning pretty well; Codsworth laid a log on the fire. “Will they be staying long?”
“I think they’ll be staying permanently,” Nate said. “They got chased out of their old home by an armed gang, and a lot of their people didn’t make it. I came across them under attack by another gang, but we held them off.”
Codsworth saluted Nate with his claw. “Well done, sir! But I fear the hard part is still ahead.”
Nate nodded. “That’s for sure. I’m going over to our new neighbors. Please stay and tend the fire.”
He crossed the street; there was light coming out the windows, along with an enticing smell. Out of habit, he knocked on the doorframe-there was no door-and stepped inside. Preston and the others had cleared out the house, piling the trash in the side yard. An old lantern hung from the ceiling. They’d set up in the living/dining room, a rickety table and a few wobbly chairs and barstools on one side and a row of bedrolls on the other. In the center, a fire was burning in an old steel barrel, topped by one of the racks from the broken oven. Jun and Mama Murphy were grilling the mole rat meat, and they had a kettle of river water on to boil.
Sturges waved Nate over. “Come on in, Mr. Connelly. This is a really swell place.” Marcy grunted derisively; he rolled his eyes. “Well, it will be, once we get some work done-a whole lot of work. But there’s plenty here to work with, and I can build damned near anything, if I say so myself.”
“But you owe us a story.” Marcy crossed her arms. “So, how does a Vault dweller learn to fight like that? Who are you, and who are you looking for?”
Nate’s face fell. “My son, Shaun. He’s only a year old.” He took a deep breath. They’re going to be living here. They need to know. “Up the hill behind the town is Vault 111. But that’s not where I’m from. That’s my house across the street. I lived here, before the war.”
“Wait, what?” Preston shook his head. “You mean the war? The Great War, when the bombs fell? It can’t be, that was 200 years ago!”
“A little over 210, actually.” Nate smiled wryly. “I don’t expect you to just believe me. I have some old papers that my robot saved. I was in the Army, served three tours. My last posting was at a training facility near here; I was with my wife Nora and our new baby when the bombs fell. Vault 111 wasn’t exactly as advertised. It was supposed to be a self-sustaining underground shelter, where we could live until the surface was safe enough for us to rebuild. It was actually a cryogenic facility-suspended animation, like the old space movies. When the alarm sounded, I got my family to the Vault; we arrived a few minutes before Boston got hit. They froze us in these metal pods, and we went to sleep. When I woke up, there were people outside the pod, strangers I’d never seen. They thawed me, Nora, and Shaun. The rest of the pods had failed, and the people inside were dead.” He bit his lip. “They opened Nora’s pod-I was awake, but still sealed in mine. Shaun was in with her, and they tried to take him. I don’t know why they wanted him, but she wouldn’t give him up, and they shot her.” A tear rolled down Nate’s cheek. “I tried to break out of my pod, but one of them hit a button and put me back to sleep. But the Vault’s systems weren’t working, and I thawed out again a little later. I left the Vault and started trying to track Shaun down. That was this morning, and then I ran into you in Concord.”
“Sounds crazy,” Sturges said. “But I believe it. Vault-Tec was up to some really nasty stuff, there’s stories about it from all over. From what I’ve heard, some were ordinary shelters, but others were used to run experiments on the people living inside.” He glowered. “I hope those bastards got what was coming to them, but it doesn’t really matter right now.”
Preston nodded. “What matters is us getting set up here, and you getting after your son. Do you have a plan?”
Nate frowned. “Whoever killed Nora and took Shaun got away clean, and the trail is cold. I need to ask around, find some more information about who might have done this. Do you know of any place I might want to start?”
“That’s easy.” Mama Murphy poured hot water into old soup cans and dropped in a pinch of young, tender pine needles for tea. “Diamond City, the ‘Jewel of the Commonwealth.’ Biggest settlement in the region, almost five thousand people.”
“I heard Diamond City mentioned on the radio,” Nate said, accepting a grilled haunch from Jun. They just held them, as there weren’t any plates. He eyed it a moment, telling himself it was basically rabbit, then took a bite and smiled. It tasted like lean pork, juicy and just a little gamy. “What is it, and where?”
Jun set a dented pot in the center of the table and sat down. “Bones in here, please, Mama’s making broth tomorrow. Diamond City’s a trade hub. Dozens of people pass through on any given day, so it’s a good place to pick up news. It’s at the west edge of pre-War Boston, about twenty miles from here. A fit man might make the walk in a day, but if I were you, I’d plan on stopping for the night. You don’t want to be too tired out; no part of the Commonwealth is truly safe.”
“I lived in Diamond City for a few years when I was young, knew most everyone there,” Mama said. “Hard to remember that far back, though. If you have Mentats, or even Jet, I might be able to tell you who to ask.”
Preston shook his head firmly. “We’ve talked about this. That junk’s going to kill you.”
Mama sighed. “Preston, the only reason I know so much is I’ve had a good, long life already. My time’s almost over, yours is still ahead of you. If the things I’ve seen can help, what does it matter if I die a little sooner?”
“No.” Marcy hugged the older woman. “You practically raised all the kids in Quincy. You’re family-and I’m not losing any more family.”
“Stubborn girl.” Mama laughed softly. “All right. Have it your way. Our new friend will have to manage.”
Nate finished his meat. “That’ll have to wait at least a day. There’s too much to do here, and it won’t make much difference if I find Shaun but don’t have a home to bring him back to. I’ll talk to Codsworth in the morning about repairing some of these houses. He told me there’s a cellar that might have supplies if we can get it open, but it’s got a tough lock.”
Sturges nodded. “I’m your man for that.”
“Good.” Nate sipped his tea. It wasn’t great, but a hot drink was nice. “I’ve been thinking-the Vault’s in too rough shape to live in, but there was still plenty of stuff inside we could use.” He pursed his lips. “And I know it’s a lot of work, but I’d like to give Nora and my neighbors a proper burial.”
“Absolutely,” Preston replied. “Do you know where you’d like to put the plot?”
Nate nodded. “Up the hill by the Vault elevator. There’s a nice view to the south and east, enough room, and we don’t have to… to move the bodies very far. But that can wait until the end. We need to take care of the living first.”
“You’d better turn in for the night.” Mama Murphy put her hands on her hips. “There’s a lot of work to be done in the morning, and we don’t need to be wasting lamp oil.”
“She’s right.” Preston hefted his musket. “The rest of you turn in. I’ll take first watch.”
Nate shook his head. “There’s no need. Codsworth will sound an alarm if anything happens. We can all get some sleep.”
“Sounds good.” Sturges clapped Nate on the shoulder. “Good night, Mr. Connelly, and thank you.”
“It’s okay to call me Nate, you know.” Nate smiled. “Hopefully, we’ll be neighbors for a while.”
Nate crossed the road and stepped back into his old house. The first log had burned down to glowing coals, and the living room was warm, if a little drafty. Codsworth was throwing a few more logs on. “That should be sufficient for the night, sir. Is there anything else you need?”
“Actually, is there anything you need?” Nate cocked his head. “Oil, fuel, parts? You’ve been here for over two hundred years!”
Codsworth waved dismissively. “Not to worry, sir! General Atomics built me to last. Take a licking and keep on ticking, that’s me!” Nate raised an eyebrow, and the robot wavered. “All right, I do consume thruster fuel and motor oil, along with electricity. The Red Rocket station had a full tank of fuel and plenty of oil in stock when the bombs fell, and I don’t use much. As for power, there’s an outlet in the Vault security shack, connected to the reactor. I plug in and recharge there. That is everything I need to remain in operation, at least for now. My only concern is that I will use resources more rapidly now that I’m being put to work again, but I can operate on many different fuels and lubricants without too much trouble, we’ll find something. Respectfully, there are at least half a dozen more pressing concerns right now.”
Nate frowned, but nodded. “All right, then. Keep an eye out tonight, and wake me if you see any trouble. Tomorrow, we’ll begin restoring the town.”
“Good night, Master Nate,” Codsworth said. “And… even accounting for circumstances, it is wonderful to see you again.”
Chapter 3: Sanctuary
Summary:
Nate takes a moment to catch his breath and plan his next move, alongside his unexpected new neighbors. With short-term survival taken care of, he sets out into the Commonwealth to try and find his son...
Chapter Text
Nate jerked awake. He had a moment or two of intense confusion while he remembered where he was. He’d been having a nightmare of Nora screaming… Wait. No. Someone is screaming for real! He rolled off the couch, grabbing his pistol. He dashed out the door and across the street, where Preston waved him to a halt. The screams stopped abruptly. Nate peered in the window to see Jun hugging Marcy and murmuring in her ear. Sturges and Mama Murphy were looking on with concern.
Nate set the safety and lowered his pistol, then met Preston’s eyes. “Bad dreams?”
“Yeah,” Preston agreed. “Quincy left its mark on all of us, but she got the worst of it. She saw her son killed.” He shook his head. “She’s split in half, hot and angry during the day, cold and afraid at night. The nightmares come about once a week. I’m hoping, someday, she’ll heal at least a little.”
“I hope so, too.” Nate glanced at the horizon, which was starting to glow with the coming dawn. “Well, we’re all up now. Let’s get planning. Come on in my house-I think it’s a little warmer in there. Bring a couple chairs, I haven’t got enough.”
Everyone followed Nate into his old home, sitting around the kitchen counter. They opened a few cans of pork and beans, shoving them into the coals of the fire to heat up. Jun and Marcy shared the same spoon. Half a can did not make for a hearty meal, but there wasn’t much to go around. Nate had already decided to pool his supplies with the settlers. By his estimate, they had three or four days’ worth of short rations. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. “First thing, I think, is improving our food situation. I can’t really leave here with only enough food to make it to Diamond City. What comes after that?”
Marcy jerked her head towards her husband. “Jun’s a good hunter and trapper. We made a good living drying meat and selling furs and leather. But they’ll be scarce once winter sets in, and once the snow starts, we’re pretty much stuck until April. We’ll need to build up a stockpile before it gets really cold.”
“That goes for shelter, too,” Jun said. “Sleeping by the fire won’t cut it for long.”
“Why don’t we just move into the Vault?” Marcy asked. “It’s out of the weather. Raiders would never be able to get at us in there.”
Preston shook his head. “Nate said the Vault was damaged, with system failures. If the power went out, we’d be trapped inside. And we’ll be hunting and growing our food around Sanctuary. If we holed up in the vault, raiders could starve us out.”
“Which is no good,” Sturges agreed. “We need to patch up these houses.”
Nate smiled. “I have an idea or two about that. Codsworth?”
“Yes, Master Nate?” The robot floated over. “How can I be of service?”
“First, stop calling me Master,” Nate said, rolling his eyes. “Second, tell me about these houses: construction, materials, and the like. You’re programmed to maintain them, yes?”
“Of course, Master Nate,” Codsworth replied; Nate grumbled under his breath. “The homes in Sanctuary Hills are several models of the Vault-Tec Rockwell series. They are modeled after several mid-century modern designs, in particular the Lustron houses of the 1950s, with significant updates to materials and technology. The construction uses steel for the main structural members, aluminum framing and outer wall panels, and advanced composites for the roof, interior walls, and flooring. The appliances are all electric; power in the subdivision was provided by the Vault 111 main reactor through buried cables. Unfortunately, when the alarm sounded, power was rerouted to run the Vault.”
Nate rubbed his cheek. “The houses are all modular, correct?”
“That’s right,” Codsworth agreed. “They are designed to be maintained by the homeowners, or robots like myself, with fairly simple tools. I still have my full set of tool attachments.”
“Well then, we’re set.” Nate waved towards the street. “There are more than a dozen houses in Sanctuary. They’re all damaged to some extent, but there should be enough parts to fully repair a few. First thing to do is inspect the framing. If that’s in good shape, it should be pretty straightforward to attach the proper panels. We’ll have to board up the windows, either with spare wall panels or lumber. Codsworth, can you handle the inspection yourself?”
“Yes, of course, sir,” the robot said. “I will provide you a list of the required parts.”
Sturges folded his arms. “Once you know what we need, I’ll work with you to get the houses together. We’ll be better off if we can get the power back on, but that’s a problem for weeks or months down the line.” He looked over to Nate. “Can you show me how to use the power armor? It’d be a real help with the heavy lifting and hauling.”
“Sure,” Nate said. “It’s certainly in no shape for another fight. Use it sparingly, though, that core’s less than half full, and it’s the only one we got.” He turned back to Codsworth. “Start with this house and the Rosa place, then the houses on the cul-de-sac at the top of the hill.”
Preston stood. “Okay, then. Let’s get the Vault searched while Codsworth checks out the houses.”
“I’ll stay here,” Mama Murphy said. “I’ll boil some water, so you’ll have something to drink.”
They headed up the hill to the Vault elevator. Nate felt his skin start to crawl. The group stood on the lift; the elevator descended slowly, the old gears creaking and groaning. Above them, the metal cover slid across the hole, blotting out the sky. They reached the bottom and the gate opened. Nate led the way past the entry area, fidgeting with his Pip-Boy. He hadn’t really looked around before, just stumbled through. They passed the Overseer’s office, cafeteria, and bunkroom, then reached the room where he’d woken up the previous day. He passed the pods holding his old neighbors and stopped in front of Nora. Her eyes were still wide open, forever frozen in shock. There was a single neat bullet hole in her upper chest. He reached out a shaking hand and touched the cold glass.
Jun laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nate. We all are, and we’ll do what we can to help you. We’re not fighters, not like you or Preston, but if we get Sanctuary put back together, we can make sure you have food, clothing, maybe even a little money for weapons and armor.”
Nate took a deep breath and nodded. “We need to… thaw them out. It’ll take time.”
“Taken care of.” Sturges was working on the terminal at the end of the room. “I’ve shut down what’s left of the pod systems. They’ll be thawed out by the evening.”
Vault 111 wasn’t all that large, but it turned out to be a godsend. It didn’t have any food; the staff had used up the rations while they waited for an all-clear signal that never came. What it did have was furnishings for the houses. The settlers gathered up everything from furniture to bedding to dishes, along with more jumpsuits. Finally, the Vault was equipped with a water recycling system, which Sturges said he might, in time, be able to remove and modify into a purifier to treat river water. The reactor was still operating, but they didn’t dare mess with it without a better understanding of the system. They hauled everything they could down to Sanctuary, using one of the empty houses for storage. About the time they got finished, clouds had rolled in and a cold rain was starting to fall. Preston, Marcy and Jun went to cut more firewood while Mama Murphy made lunch and Nate and Sturges headed to the Baker house.
The root cellar had a steel double door, with a large circular lock in the center. Sturges had brought an assortment of tools with him. First, they tried using a crowbar to pry the cover off the lock to get at the tumblers, but there wasn’t enough of a gap to get the bar in. Sturges tried picking the lock with a screwdriver and some metal shims, but to no avail. He went after the hinges, trying to get around the lock altogether. Nothing. They’d been standing in the rain for half an hour and were no closer to getting in. Sturges heated the lock with a blowtorch, then doused it with cold water and hit it with the crowbar, hoping the lock would shatter. The crowbar bounced off the door and hit Sturges in the arm. He stood up, rubbing the bruise and muttering obscenities under his breath.
“All right, that’s it.” Sturges put his hands on his hips. “Mr. Connelly, it’s time to show me how to use the armor.”
Nate twisted the wheel and the armor opened. “All right. Don’t think of wearing it, it’s more like getting into a vehicle. Put your left foot there, then grab the frame at the shoulders and pull yourself up; your head goes through the hole, then put your right foot into the stirrup there. Hands into the gauntlets, then step down with your left foot and the armor will close.”
Sturges followed Nate’s instructions carefully, the armor pulling itself shut as he fitted himself in. He kept still, looking slightly nervous. Nate smiled. “Just move around, Sturges. The armor will do the rest.”
Sturges raised his arm, then stepped into the street. He walked up and down for a bit. “It’s a lot easier than I thought it would be. I was expecting it would be stiff or feel heavy. It’s just a little slower than walking around normally.”
“It would be stiff and heavy if all the armor plating was installed,” Nate said. “In any case, you can lift half a ton with that on. But make very sure that when you’re lifting something heavy, you’re on firm footing. It doesn’t matter how strong you are if the ground can’t support you. Also be careful of deep mud, you could get bogged down and we don’t have a tow truck.”
Sturges hefted the sledgehammer and smiled. “Let’s get that door open.”
They headed back around behind the house. Sturges swung the sledge, and the door rang like a bell as he hit the lock squarely. He swung again, and the lock bent slightly. Nate held up a hand and Sturges took a step back. Nate tried to get the crowbar back in behind the lock. The very tip went in, not enough to get any leverage. Nate backed off and Sturges hit it again, this time more from the side. Now there was a thin gap. Nate set the crowbar in place, stood up and waved for Sturges. The big man braced his foot against the crowbar to keep it from slipping, then grabbed it with both hands and pulled. The metal groaned, then there was a loud crack and the lock tore off the door. It was a simple matter to reach into the hole and pull back the locking bolt.
Nate descended the narrow stairs and clicked on his Pip-Boy light. The cellar was a small room, maybe six feet by eight, with a low ceiling. The walls were braced with lumber and cinderblocks. Along one side was an Army-surplus cot, complete with a poncho liner blanket and heavy plastic storage chest. Opposite the bed was a set of steel shelves and a tall, gray-painted metal cabinet, which was padlocked. Nate pumped his fist. The shelves were full of supplies; cans of food, big plastic jugs of water, boxes of medicine and chems, enough to last them until they could start hunting. The chest held a variety of clothing. Last, he opened the cabinet-the crowbar was enough for this lock-and smiled some more. It was a weapon locker, with a small gun rack on one side and ammo storage on the other. There was an empty spot on the rack, probably for the deer rifle Mr. Baker kept in his truck; sadly, Baker, the truck, and the rifle were all two hundred years gone. But there was a nice pump shotgun, with an elastic shell holder on the stock and an extended magazine tube. There were boxes of shells in both buckshot and slug, along with .308 for the missing rifle and a leather bandolier to carry extra shells. Nate stuck his head out the cellar door. “Hey, everybody, I hit the jackpot!”
The settlers were overjoyed to hear about the supplies. They opened a couple cans of vegetables to add to the bone broth Mama Murphy had been working on. It was a little odd-tasting, but it was hot and filling. The others had made a couple useful discoveries around Sanctuary. There were little pumpkins growing wild on the north end of the island; Nate laughed to think that they might be descended from jack-o-lanterns. Jun found tracks from what he called a “radstag” in the nearby woods; he said he’d try to hunt one in a day or two.
There was only one thing still left to do.
They’d found one shovel in town, and Sturges had an entrenching tool. The men took turns, one pair digging while the other two rested. Codsworth and Marcy hauled buckets of soil, piling it up next to each grave. They laid the plot out in two rows, on top of the hill behind the security station. It took hours, and it was exhausting. They finished the digging a little after eight, then stopped for dinner. The group was quiet as they climbed back up to the Vault. They improvised stretchers out of tarps and pipes, opened the cryo pods one by one, and carried the bodies to the elevator. Nate took Nora last. The new residents of Sanctuary Hills laid the former ones to rest by the light of a battery-powered construction lamp. They did what they could to be respectful, but a corpse is a heavy, cumbersome thing, and they were all tired from the digging. It felt wrong, it felt dirty, and Nate’s wife and neighbors deserved better, but there was nothing more he could do. Preston motioned for the others to give Nate some privacy as he knelt by Nora’s side.
“Nora, I love you so much, and I am so sorry.” Nate took her hand in both of his. “I thought we had a chance. We had such a future planned out… the war was going to end, we were going to be able to settle down, our son Shaun, our home, and maybe later a daughter and a dog. I had the service, and you had the law. We’d do our small part to help the country heal. Home and family, that’s all we wanted, it wasn’t too much to ask.” He shook his head as the tears started. “But it all went so wrong, and now, here we are.” He gently removed her wedding ring, holding it a moment before attaching it to the chain which held his dog tags and a small steel cross. “I promise you; I’ll find our son. I’ll bring Shaun back and keep him safe.” Nate dropped into the grave, then reached out and cradled Nora in his arms, lowering her down. He folded her arms over her chest and smoothed her hair. “I love you, Nora. You’ll always be in my heart.”
Nate pulled himself up out of the grave, grunting with the exertion. He took a handful of dirt and sprinkled it in, just as his father had for his mother. He beckoned to the others; Sturges and Preston came over and started filling the grave as Nate moved away to collect himself. Jun stepped up beside him, with Marcy looking on.
“So, you’re heading out in the morning?” Jun asked quietly.
Nate nodded. “I’ll get a good night’s sleep, then start walking.” He looked to a faint light on the horizon, near the black shapes of the Boston skyline. “That’s Diamond City?”
“That’s it,” Jun replied. “Like I said, you probably won’t find him there, but it’s a decent place to start looking.”
Nate had a long, deep sleep, the only good part about being so exhausted. He opened his eyes to find that Dogmeat had curled up on his legs, and now his feet were asleep. He rolled his eyes, threw on a fresh Vault suit, and headed to the cellar, where the settlers were now storing all their supplies. He packed a backpack, bringing the new shotgun along with his pistol and a hunting knife. He was getting low on .45 ammo, but Preston had told him he’d be able to get more in Diamond City. He rolled up the poncho liner and tied it to his pack, threw on a brown hunting jacket, then buckled on the bandolier of shotgun shells. He emerged to a wonderful smell and followed it across the street. There was a pumpkin baking over the fire; Marcy was toasting the seeds in a pan.
“We decided to let you sleep,” Marcy said, pouring the seeds into a jar. She handed the jar to Nate and started scooping the pumpkin flesh out of the skin into bowls. “Jun and Preston are out scouting the area, Mama’s fixing up a house, and Sturges is at the Red Rocket with your robot.”
Nate accepted a bowl and sprinkled the seeds over the mashed pumpkin, then took a bite, yelping as he burned his lips. He chuckled and blew on the mash, then had some more. It needed either brown sugar or salt and pepper, but it would do. He shoveled it in, not even sitting down to eat. “Thanks for breakfast. I’m heading for Diamond City, taking Dogmeat with me. Obviously, I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Look, watch yourself out there,” Marcy said shortly. “There’s all sorts of ways to die in the Commonwealth. Gunners, monsters, Super Mutants, and worse.” She crossed her arms. “I want to tell you it’s stupid to go after cold-blooded killers on your own. I want to tell you to cut your losses; you saved our lives, but you want to throw yours away. But it’s your son, of course you’re going anyway. So… just ‘good luck,’ all right?”
Nate smiled wanly. “Thanks, Marcy.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out. “I need to get moving.” He shook her hand and left the building, with Dogmeat trotting at his heels.
He walked down the road, crossed the bridge, and continued to the gas station, where Sturges called and waved him over urgently. Nate headed over, noticing three more mole rats hanging in one of the front windows. He stepped into the garage and stopped short. The room had been completely cleaned and organized. The power armor hung on a heavy-duty engine hoist, except for the helmet, which sat partially disassembled on a workbench. Another bench held Gristle’s pipe machine gun, surrounded by components and maintenance gear. Codsworth was hanging tools on a peg board, and there were boxes and bags of parts and supplies waiting to be put away. Nate looked around, nodding approvingly. “You’ve been busy.”
“Yup,” Sturges replied, grinning, then turned serious. “I’m glad I caught you. I need your help before you head out.”
“What’s the problem?” Nate asked.
“Mole rats,” Sturges replied. “I decided to move in here; the garage is perfect for a workshop, and I’m converting the old office into a bedroom... and then I found the damned nest is in a cave right under the building. Preston and Jun are somewhere off to the north, won’t be back till tonight.”
Nate dropped his pack and unslung the shotgun. “How bad?”
Sturges shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too awful. Cave doesn’t look too big, so I don’t think there’s more than one brood mother. That’s the one we need to make sure to get.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “Brood mother?”
“They’re like ants,” Sturges said. “Only one fertile female, usually. In the really big colonies, there might be half a dozen, but that’s in big holes like sewers and subways, where they have lots of space underground. Little cave like this, I would expect less than two dozen. You got a bunch of them yesterday, and I got a few more just now. So, maybe ten left. Mole rats on their own aren’t a big threat. Without a brood mother, they don’t work together, so they’re much less dangerous. The other problem is, there’s radiation down there, looks like someone was dumping.” He reached into a medical case and pulled out a pill bottle. “So, we take Rad-X, and we don’t stay down there long.” Sturges headed over to the armor workbench. “I made you a little something.” He held up what looked like an oversized pair of snow goggles. “I pulled the visor out of the helmet and rigged it so you can wear it on its own. It’s linked to your Pip-Boy.”
Nate’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding…” He took the goggles and slipped them on. Sure enough, there was the compass. He checked further, and found he had full use of the targeting assist. He chuckled. “Sturges, this is damned fine work. Let’s go.”
“I’m coming too!” Codsworth zipped up alongside Nate. “Wretched vermin breeding so close to Sanctuary, I won’t have it!”
Nate laughed and nodded. Sturges hefted his gun. “Keep quiet, and we’ll get the drop on them. Mole rats are almost blind, they hear you or they smell you.”
He led the way around the side of the station, down a little hill. The ‘cave’ was a crack in the rocks just large enough to squeeze through. Nate waved, and Dogmeat went first. Nate followed, with the others behind him. The tunnel was just tall enough for them to walk upright. Nate brought up the shotgun, waiting just inside for his eyes to adjust. It wasn’t completely dark; there was a green-yellow glow coming from further inside, and he could hear the scrabbling of small claws. They advanced down the tunnel in single file, walking softly to try and avoid notice. The cave opened out onto a roughly circular room, perhaps 20 feet wide. There was junk everywhere: old tires, broken motors, a cracked toilet… and several barrels of what Nate guessed was spent reactor coolant from fusion-powered cars. The stuff was mildly radioactive, viciously toxic, and was supposed to be turned in at government-approved storage centers. But that cost money, and it looked like the former proprietor had cut corners. The glow came from luminescent mushrooms sticking out of the ground near the waste. Other odd-looking fungi dotted the walls and ceiling. And the place was full of mole rats. The things were curled up in tires, running here and there, some gnawing on scraps or digging into the walls. Nate gestured to Sturges and the two spread out, Codsworth moving up behind them. They hadn’t been spotted yet; Nate pointed to Sturges and indicated a target. The big man nodded and brought his gun up. Nate took aim and fired; his first shot blew a rat to shreds. Sturges killed two with one burst, and then all hell broke loose.
Mole rats came boiling out of the trash pile, bursting from the walls, charging at them with teeth bared. Nate and Sturges both opened up, not aiming, just firing into the mass of rats. They killed at least half a dozen in the first few seconds, then Nate had to reload. He fell back towards the entrance as Sturges kept firing. Dogmeat tackled a mole rat and killed it, then went for another, which dove into the dirt. Sturges ran out and started to change magazines, but Nate was still shoving shells into his gun. He was about to draw his pistol when Codsworth charged in. The robot raised his blowtorch and unleashed a torrent of flame. The rats squealed and ran for it as Codsworth swept his torch back and forth. Two rats popped up behind him; Codsworth slashed one with his buzz saw and Dogmeat got the other. The rats fled into holes or deeper into the cave.
“Nice save, Codsworth.” Nate racked a shell into the chamber, then topped off his shotgun’s magazine. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“A simple matter of increasing the pressure in my torch, Master Nate.” The robot was angling his eyes to watch the entire room. “It seems this will be a bit challenging.”
Nate glanced over at the big man. “Sturges, want to run the numbers again?”
“Nope,” Sturges chuckled ruefully. “How do you want to play it? I still think there’s only one brood mother. Can’t be too big a cave, or the building above would have collapsed. She’s just been here a while, had more pups. Means we need to get this nest taken care of while we still can.”
Nate thought for a moment. “Codsworth, I want you to lead the way. Use the flamethrower to flush them out of their holes where we can kill them.”
They moved forward cautiously, watching carefully for rats to pop out. Dogmeat prowled around the mess, sniffing for rats. He found a hole, and Codsworth moved in. He sent a stream of flame into the hole, and there was a loud squealing and scratching sound. Mole rats burst out everywhere. Nate and Sturges got five more before the rats disappeared again. They repeated the process, advancing further into the cave. The Geiger counter on Nate’s Pip-boy was starting to click worryingly. He checked to make sure the Rad-X was still working and kept moving. Codsworth flushed out another group of rats; these didn’t attack, merely running deeper in. But while they could dig easily through the loose soil or garbage, tunneling through hard rock took time, and they didn’t have any. Before long, the rats were trapped in a dead-end at the back of the cave. They could hear the little beasts squealing and scrabbling against the rocks, along with a deeper grunting.
“That’s the brood mother,” Sturges said. “We get her, and that’s it for the colony. We already put a big dent in their numbers, and the others can’t breed.” He glanced over at Nate. “Be careful, she’s bigger than the others, and they’re cornered. They might try to go through us.”
Nate nodded. “Let’s get this done.”
Codsworth went first. He fired his flamethrower into the dead end and the rats panicked. At first, they tried to retreat from the flames, pressing against the back wall. But there was no escape, and they grew desperate. The last of the colony rushed out as a mass. Two leaped at Codsworth; they were burned, but they managed to get past the flames and latched onto him. Codsworth went into a spin and shut down his torch to keep from hitting an ally. He tipped over too far to hover and crashed to the ground, swiping at the rats with his manipulator claw. Nate couldn’t shoot; Codsworth’s plating wouldn’t stand up to gunfire. Dogmeat raced over, helping Codsworth handle the rats. Nate turned his attention to the brood mother. She was as big as Dogmeat and snarling furiously, guarded by a handful of ordinary rats. Nate was starting to aim when the rats charged. Nate ignored the smaller ones and fired straight for the brood mother. The little rats were in the way, and he only managed to wound her before she jumped for his throat. Nate clubbed her with the butt of his shotgun, then Codsworth slashed her in half.
“Well, that was fun,” Nate slung his shotgun. “Let’s do it again sometime.”
“Nope,” Sturges chuckled. “Let’s get you on your way.”
Nate looked around as they walked out of the cave. “What will you do about the mess down here?”
Sturges chuckled. “I’ll leave it! Those glowing mushrooms and fungus live on toxins and radiation like plants do on dirt and sunlight. If you know what you’re doing, they can be processed into useful chems. The dead rats will make for good fertilizer, and they’ll spread down there. I’ll rig a gate over the entrance, so nothing else moves in.” They stepped out of the cave and climbed back up to the Red Rocket. Sturges pulled a small pouch out of a drawer. “You’ll need some cash. Most people these days use bottle caps. Traders will still take pre-War paper money, if you have any.”
“Thanks.” Nate took the pouch and hefted his pack. “Hopefully, I’ll be back before too long.”
Codsworth floated up beside him. “Sir, I know I’m no Mr. Gutsy, but as you see, I can handle myself in a fight.” He brandished his blowtorch and saw. “I would be happy to accompany you on your search.”
Nate shook his head. “No. I won’t be alone, Dogmeat’s coming with me. I need you here, repairing and rebuilding. Work with Sturges, help the settlers get Sanctuary put back together. When I find Shaun, we’ll still have to build a new life here.”
“Very well, sir.” Codsworth floated back a foot or so. “Take care, Master Nate.”
“Good luck, Nate.” Sturges shook hands. “Be careful out there.”
Nate whistled for Dogmeat, then headed off down the road, through Concord and on towards the distant Boston skyline.
Chapter 4: Great Green Jewel
Summary:
Nate meets new allies and reaches Diamond City, where he finds that his journey to recover his son isn't going to be as quick as he hoped...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The road into Boston was both hauntingly familiar and disturbingly different. What had once taken Nate less than an hour to drive-or two hours in traffic-was now a long, lonely walk. He recognized the odd building, but they were all empty, mostly boarded up and partially collapsed. Dogmeat trotted ahead, ears pricked, nose to the ground. Nate left his shotgun slung, but his head was on a swivel. It was mostly uneventful. He’d seen more giant insects perched in trees, but he picked up the pace and they didn’t come after him. The weather was actually quite pleasant: blue skies, not too windy, temperature in the mid-sixties, but he’d need the jacket later in the evening. Up ahead was the Drumlin Diner, where he and Nora used to go after a movie. Decent place to stop and rest. Might have a look around for supplies, too. As he drew closer, he saw movement-there was someone inside. Nate slowed, approaching cautiously but not drawing a weapon. There were two people in the building, a woman in her fifties and a boy in his upper teens. The woman spotted him and gestured sharply to the kid.
Nate waved. “Hello there.” He clicked his tongue and Dogmeat moved in close on his heels.
“Hello yourself, stranger.” The woman came to the door, and Nate saw the pipe gun at her hip. “Here to trade?”
“I was actually looking to take a load off, but what are you selling?” Nate asked.
“Little of everything,” she said. “Name’s Trudy. This is my son, Patrick. We have food and drink, salvage, supplies… even some ammo.”
“I’m Nate.” He dropped his pack on the floor and collapsed into one of the booths. “What have you got to drink?”
“I have water, purified or just boiled, corn beer, pre-War beer, and Nuka-Cola,” she replied.
Nate’s face lit up. “I’ll take the Nuka-Cola! What’s the charge?”
“Ten caps.” Trudy ducked behind the counter and emerged with the iconic rocket-shaped bottle. “Where are you from? You’re not one of my usual customers.”
“Sanctuary, just up the road,” Nate replied. “There’s a group just starting a settlement. I helped them out of a jam the other day.”
“Are you the folks who tore up those raiders?” Nate nodded; Trudy folded her arms and smiled. “Keep your caps, this drink is on me!”
Nate accepted the bottle, popped the top, and took a swig, enjoying the sugary fizz. “They give you trouble?”
“Jared’s boys shake me down for caps once or twice a year, same as everyone around Concord.” She looked over her shoulder at her son. “And they turned Pat into a junkie. When we didn’t have enough, they told him he could make it up by working, building their base in the old Corvega factory. Gave him Jet so he could work harder. Took him months to kick the habit.” She shook her head. “Maybe Jared will lay off now that you’ve given them a black eye, but I’m not hopeful.”
Nate leaned forward in the booth. “Trudy, have you seen anyone passing through with a baby?”
She shook her head. “Not anytime recently. You looking for someone?”
“My son,” Nate said. “Someone broke into my Vault, murdered my wife and took him.”
“Oh, God.” Trudy’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. There isn’t much I can do to help, but hope you find him.”
Nate stood. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll stop by on my way back.”
The soda actually helped. Nate could feel the caffeine and sugar rush, and quick-stepped the next five miles or so. Preston had warned him to go south around Lexington, both due to ghouls and the raider gang. He skirted the city, then picked up the Concord Turnpike. With the Charles River in sight to the south, Nate looked for a place to spend the night. He found a wrecked flatbed truck, its load of shipping containers scattered across the roadside. They had once held auto parts for the Corvega plant, and it was easy enough to haul the crates out to make a shelter for the night. He turned a rusted wheel rim on its side and built a fire in it, then heated up a can of stew and split it with Dogmeat. He let the fire burn out, not wanting to risk someone seeing the light. He curled up in the poncho liner with Dogmeat lying on top of him and drifted off.
Nate woke to a cold, wet nose in his face. He groaned and shoved the dog away, then rolled over and sat up. It was still mostly dark out; the eastern sky was just turning grey, and the sun would be rising soon. Dogmeat bounded out of the container and relieved himself against one of the truck tires. Nate found a more appropriate place to take care of business-a tree-then tore open a ration bar before shouldering his pack and starting off. He’d been warned that raiders liked to place roadblocks on chokepoints like open highways and bridges, so he avoided the Mass Pike. He crossed the Charles on an old rail bridge and followed the tracks south. He turned east again, heading past a small pond and into the outskirts of Boston proper. There were supposed to be signs leading to Diamond City around here somewhere. He looked around, the enormity of it all washing over him.
Boston was in ruins. Historic buildings and glass-and-steel skyscrapers alike were weathered, rusting, or collapsed. It’s like this everywhere, isn’t it? All across the country. We really got blown back to the Stone Age. He chuckled to himself. More like colonial times. There are even Minutemen… only with laser muskets. Throw in bandits out of the Wild West, and some mutated monsters… what sort of crazy world is this? His stomach twisted. And Shaun is out there, somewhere.
The crack of gunfire snapped Nate out of his musing. He dove behind a dumpster and unslung his shotgun. The sound seemed distant, but you couldn’t tell in a city. Noise bounced off buildings, got redirected and distorted. He kept the safety on and moved ahead. Dogmeat raised his head, ears pricked, sniffing the air. The sound was growing louder, and Nate heard voices. They were deep and angry-sounding, and Nate didn’t want to run into more raiders. He turned off the street into an alley between two apartment towers. He emerged into a courtyard, and now the gunfire was echoing all around him, and he couldn’t figure out which direction it was coming from. Nate crossed the open space and entered another alley, still moving generally eastwards. He stepped out the other end of the alley and ran smack into the fight.
There was a battle raging throughout the whole city block. One group was firing out of the building above him, while the other took cover in the ruins across the street and sprayed the upper floors with automatic fire. Nate backpedaled, crouching in the alley. He started to retreat back the way he came, but then an explosion above his head sent debris plunging into the courtyard. Nate hesitated, then heard another shout. Someone fired at him through the newly-blasted hole. He scrambled out of the alley and turned left, trying to sprint down the street and away from the battle. A door slammed open next to him, and a monster stepped out. Nate gaped, stunned for a moment. It was a green-skinned, manlike thing, well over seven feet tall, heavily muscled, and wearing a ragged loincloth. It roared and swung a piece of lumber at him. Nate hopped backwards and fired his shotgun into the monster’s belly from a range of ten feet. A normal, unarmored human would have dropped on the spot, but the giant only staggered.
“Puny! Human!” He snarled and charged at Nate, swinging the board. Nate fired again, aiming for the head; the point-blank buckshot blew the thing’s brains out the back of its head. The building erupted in angry yells. Two more of the monsters leaned out from upstairs windows and fired pipe rifles at Nate. He answered with his shotgun, running away when they ducked his shots. He heard the telltale metallic rattle of a grenade bouncing and hit the deck. The blast was followed by yells of pain and a sharp drop in the amount of gunfire.
“Get the hell out of there!” A man in armor shouted from the rubble on the far side of the street. “Move your ass, now!”
Nate took the hint and ran for cover as the man pointed him to safety. He dropped behind a brick wall as the fight kept going on around him. He started to reload his shotgun with slugs before a hand came down on his arm.
“Skip it, buddy, cleaning out Super Mutants is our job.” The armored man put his hands on his hips. “What the hell were you doing walking through their territory? There isn’t any good salvage in this part of town.”
Nate put his gun on safety and slung it. “I’m new in town, I didn’t know those things were around. I’m trying to find Diamond City.”
“You found it.” The man tapped the white diamond painted on his armor. “We’re the city guard, we keep the streets clear for a few blocks around the city so traders can get in.” He pointed. “Take the street that way, then follow the signs. They’ll lead you to the main gate.”
Nate thanked the guard and started down the street, the sounds of fighting fading behind him. He spotted the diamond symbol on a wall, along with an arrow. The sign led to another, and the area was starting to look familiar. The guard’s armor had been… No. No way. He came around a corner and, sure enough, Diamond City was Fenway Park. Nate laughed to himself, then actually thought about it. The stadium’s old security gates were welded shut, reinforced with bricks or cinderblocks. The windows and openings above ground level had been piled with sandbags, with openings for defenders to shoot out. Looking higher, he saw the old floodlight towers had been modified with platforms for snipers; half the lights were now angled to illuminate the streets leading up to the building. He nodded to himself. Not a bad idea, actually. Tall walls, lots of space inside, backup generators, this could be a hell of a fortress with enough guards to hold it. He followed the signs towards the old main gate; as he went, he began to hear an agitated woman’s voice.
“What do you mean you can’t open the gate? Stop playing around, Danny! I’m standing out in the open here!”
Nate frowned and kept walking, listening carefully. It’s gonna be a problem if I can’t get into the city after all this… Is there an entry fee or something?
“I got orders not to let you in, Ms. Piper.” The voice sounded like it was coming from an intercom. “I’m sorry, I’m just doing my job.”
Nate rounded the corner to see a dark-haired woman in a beat-up red leather trench coat. She stood with her back to him, gesturing angrily at an intercom box next to the heavy steel gate. “You’re ‘just doing your job?’ Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? ‘Oh look, it’s the scary reporter!’ Boo!”
“Mayor McDonough’s really steamed, Piper.” The voice sounded extremely uncomfortable. “He’s saying that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city’s in a tizzy.”
The woman growled. “You open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan! I live here. You can’t just lock me out!” She sighed, then turned around. Nate was dumbstruck.
He was looking into Nora’s face.
“Argh!” Piper spun away from the door, furious. Mayor McDonough had always disliked her, but she’d never thought he’d go so far as to actually endanger her life. There were Super Mutant patrols less than a quarter mile away! I’ve got to get back in. She eyed the new arrival. Along with a pre-war brown hunting jacket, he wore a Vault suit, a Pip-Boy, and a vacant expression-three sure signs of a rube new to the Commonwealth. Time for a little fast talking.
She stepped away from the intercom and beckoned to him. “Hey, you,” she whispered. “You want into Diamond City, right?”
He hesitated, then shook himself and nodded. “Yes… I want in.”
“Just play along.” Piper smiled and stepped over to the intercom. “Hey, Danny, I’m not alone out here. This guy’s a trader up from Quincy. He’s hauling enough goods to keep the general store stocked for a month. Now, are you going to let us in, or are you going to be the one talking to crazy Myrna about losing out on all this supply?”
The man on the intercom spluttered, grumbled, and caved. The heavy door began to lift, raised up by a pair of hydraulic arms salvaged from construction machinery. Piper winked at the Vault dweller. “Better get inside quick before ol’ Danny catches on to the bluff.”
They stepped through the gate, Piper striding confidently while the stranger trailed behind, looking around curiously. Definitely new here. Wonder what his story is…
“Piper! Who let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut!” Mayor McDonough stomped down the ramp from the stands. As usual, he wore a fairly clean pre-war suit and a Homburg hat. “You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer! The level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I’ll have that printer scrapped for parts.”
“That a statement, Mr. McDonough? ‘Tyrant mayor shuts down the press.’ How’s that for a headline?” Piper glared at him.
“Extraordinary measures.” McDonough glared right back at her. “To shield this city from your dangerous rumor-mongering! You don’t appreciate the damage you’re causing with that so-called newspaper of yours.”
Piper crossed her arms. “Doesn’t this place have laws? Last time I checked, offending you wasn’t a crime. And even if it was, you’d throw me out without any trial? And what about Nat? You’d just leave my little sister on her own?” She turned to the Vault dweller. “Why don’t we ask the newcomer? You support the news? Cause the mayor’s threatening to throw free speech in the dumpster!”
The stranger hesitated a moment, mouth moving while he thought. “I’ve always supported a free press. It’s essential for a free society.” He turned to look at Piper, who was smiling and nodding. “But free speech is a double-edged sword. It can do as much harm as good if not wielded responsibly.”
The mayor spread his hands. “Oh, I didn’t mean to bring you into this argument, good sir. No, no, no… You look like Diamond City material.” He shifted on the spot, breaking into a wide smile and waving to the building above them. “Welcome to the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe. Happy. A fine place to come, spend your money, settle down.” He put his hands on his hips. “Now, if I may ask, what brings you to our fair city? Trade? Looking for work, perhaps?”
The Vault dweller’s face darkened, and he fingered the pistol on his hip. “My name’s Nate. Someone killed my wife and took my baby son Shaun. I’m trying to find them.”
Piper’s eyes widened. “You hear that, McDonough? Is Diamond City Security going to help this man? This isn’t the first missing person around here, and now an infant’s been taken!”
“Don’t listen to her!” the mayor snapped. He sighed heavily. “Our security team can’t investigate a crime so far outside the city, but there is someone who can help you here. Nick Valentine. He’s a private detective with a very good reputation.”
“Diamond City Security can’t spare one officer to help?” Piper stomped her foot. “Tell the truth, McDonough. What’s the real reason security never investigates any kidnappings?”
“I’ve had enough of this, Piper.” McDonough stepped right up to her, pointing a finger in her face. “From now on, consider you and that sister of yours on notice.” He spun on his heel and stomped off.
Piper snorted. “Big welcome from the mayor, huh? Feel honored yet?” She folded her arms. “Look… you deserve all the help we can give you. I’m Piper Wright; I run the town newspaper. If you can wait a few minutes for me to check on my sister, I’ll take you to Nick’s office.”
He pursed his lips, then nodded. “Sure… and thank you.”
Piper smiled, beckoned for him to follow, and headed up the ramp into Diamond City.
Nate walked up the ramp, still half in a daze. The reporter-Piper-did differ from Nora when he looked closer. Her hair was darker, her eyes were green, not brown, and her lips were thinner. But the resemblance was still uncanny. He’d been distracted enough that he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said while meeting the mayor; he hoped he had been properly diplomatic. A newspaper reporter could have useful information, but I don’t want to piss off the guy in charge around here, either.
They reached the top of the ramp and Nate got his first look at Diamond City. It was both amazing… and kind of a dump. The infield had been covered by a collection of ramshackle buildings, with an open-air market in the center. Half the outfield had been converted into a large vegetable garden, the other half was a pool of muddy water, with pipes leading to what looked like a purifier of some kind. More buildings stood in the covered stands behind home plate. The open bleachers beyond the outfield had been stripped of chairs; the concrete platforms beneath held piles of scrap metal and lumber, auto parts, and other salvage. Piper headed left, towards the nearest building to the entrance. It was a two-story metal shack with a huge green sign reading ‘Publick Occurrences.’ A preteen girl stood on a wooden box out front, calling out to passersby.
“Read the Publick! Stay in the know, stay safe!” She glanced toward the tunnel and her eyes lit up. “Piper, you’re back! Did you find me any parts?”
Piper shook her head. “Sorry, Nat. Nothing that would fit. How’s the paper selling?”
“Sales are good… which is bad,” Nat replied. “We’re overloading the motor on the press; if we don’t repair or replace them, we’re going to be cranking by hand again.”
“You keep saying that, but the old girl keeps chugging along,” Piper replied. “Stop worrying so much. I gotta head into the office; start whistling if you see any angry politicians coming our way.”
Nat crossed her arms. “Did you piss off McDonough again? One of these days…”
“Oh, I can handle him.” Piper reached out and bopped her sister’s nose. “Nat, this is Nate. He needs help finding someone; I’m taking him to see Nick.”
Nat looked Nate up and down. “Nick is a good guy. He’ll help you, if he can.”
Piper headed inside with Nate and Nat following. She peeled off her coat and hat, hanging them on a hook by the door. Dogmeat found a mat near the door and circled once before curling up to sleep. Nate looked around. The shack was laid out like a loft apartment: one large room in front, a stairway up to Piper’s office and bedroom, and a little nook under the stairs for Nat. An antique cast-iron printing press stood in the center of the floor, connected to an electric motor by an old automotive fan belt. There were two front-load washing machines against the left wall, with a shelf above holding pots, pans, and a beat-up hot plate. There was a threadbare couch covered with a quilt against the right-hand wall, with a coffee table in front of it. The building might be built from corrugated iron and scrap lumber, but it was neat and clean, decorated with old signs, posters, and a couple framed headlines from the Boston Bugle.
Nat opened one of the washing machines-revealing that it was an empty shell converted into a cabinet-and started rooting around inside. “Head on up, sis. I’ll make lunch before I head to school.”
“How come you never let me cook?” Piper asked.
Nat rolled her eyes. “Because when I let you near the stove, you usually poison us.” She pulled a can of Cram out of the cabinet, followed by a loaf of bread and some other packages. “Go ahead and get your stuff done, sis. I’ll set a meal out on the table before I go.”
Piper waved for Nate to follow her up the stairs. He set down his pack and shotgun, then headed after her. She pointed him to the swivel chair at her desk and took a seat on the bed. “Nick works on his current cases in the morning and meets new clients in the afternoon. Meaning we’ve got a little time to kill, Blue.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “Blue?”
Piper just pointed to his jumpsuit and Pip-boy. “Seemed appropriate, since you just came out of a hole in the ground.” She cocked her head. “Got a proposition for you. This is all new to you, and you need someone to guide you. I’ll tag along, help you find your way… if you let me write your story. The people could use some good news.”
Nate leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “I’d be happy to, and I have quite a tale to tell… but I get to decide when you publish.”
“Why shouldn’t I go to press right now?” Piper asked. “If I put the story out there, my readers could help you find your little boy.”
“Because I don’t think the kidnapper knows anyone else left the Vault,” Nate replied. “If he doesn’t know anyone is after him…”
Piper nodded. “I get it. Still, I don’t want the story to go stale… Tell you what. If you haven’t found your son in a month-or at least picked up his trail-then I’ll print it. By that point you’ll need to ask the public for help.”
She held out her hand; after a moment’s hesitation, Nate shook it. “Deal.” Piper took out a notepad and pencil; Nate began to explain his situation, beginning with Vault 111 and the cryo stasis. That made Piper snap upright in her chair.
“You’re a survivor? From before the War?” Piper’s mouth hung open for a moment, then she leaned forward eagerly. “Give me the full rundown. Personal history, everything. This could be the story of the century!”
Nate folded his arms. “My full name is Nathan Connolly. When the bombs fell, I was a captain in the U.S. Army Reserves. I’m from New York City originally; I was born in 2048 and grew up in Sunnyside, Queens, on 43rd Street. My father, Joseph, was a New York City cop for 32 years, went into the academy right out of high school, made detective, and worked his way up to precinct captain. Hard worker, great father, stereotypical Irish-American. My mother, Irene, was from Harlem. She worked as an adjuster for an insurance company when I was little, then as a fundraiser and accountant for various nonprofits, including the ACLU and the UNCF-that’s the American Civil Liberties Union and the United Negro College Fund, sorry.” He grinned at Piper’s confused frown. “I had a happy childhood, didn’t get into much trouble-having a cop for a dad tends to keep the wrong crowd away from you. I was an Eagle Scout and an altar boy.” Nate chuckled. “I graduated high school in 2066, just a few months after the Chinese invaded Alaska. My grades were pretty good; I was accepted into Columbia on an ROTC scholarship. I chose to major in history, with a focus on early America. I wanted to be a teacher after the war: history, civics, something like that. That’s also when I met Nora.” He beamed. “Eleanora Ferro, wonderful Italian girl. She was taking political science on her way to law school, so we had a lot of classes together. Our first date was a few weeks after starting school and we hit it right off. We moved in together our junior year, and we were both thinking about getting married, but we had to wait. Nora had law school and the bar exam, and I knew that as soon as I graduated, I’d be going to war.”
Nate paused for a moment; Piper was taking furious notes and he waited for her to catch up. She nodded, and he continued. “In the summer of 2070, I graduated from Columbia and headed to Fort Benning, Georgia, for training as an infantry officer; my specialty was mechanized air assault. As a new second lieutenant, I commanded a platoon, about forty men. My first combat deployment was to the Anchorage Line. The fight was a nasty, bloody stalemate-they couldn’t make any progress, and neither could we. I was promoted to first lieutenant at the end of my first tour of duty; I rotated home to a posting at Fort Drum, New York. That’s when I married Nora. We moved into an apartment in base housing, and she started practicing law as a public defender. I spent the next year as an instructor, teaching soldiers to fight in mountainous, snowy terrain. In 2073, I was made executive officer of a company, part of the force preparing to invade China. We flew over the pole, landed in the Gobi Desert. We were supposed to end the war in one brilliant stroke.” Nate shook his head. “It didn’t work; the new front ended up as almost as much a stalemate as the old one. I was wounded a month or two before my second tour was scheduled to end. I spent three months recovering at the naval base in Barrow, then promoted to captain and sent right back to the same outfit, this time as company commander-my old captain had been killed in the meantime. But we did weaken them some and in March of ‘76, our forces in Alaska started pushing the Chinese back. Higher pulled us out and replaced us with fresh troops. After three tours, I had the right to opt out of further combat assignments, so I went looking for something to do. General Brock had been my boss while I was an instructor at Fort Drum, and now he was developing new armor and weapons at Fort Strong, out in Boston Harbor. He asked me to come to the National Guard training facility in Revere, help train new Guard and Reserve officers. By May, Nora and I had bought a house and were expecting our first child.”
Nate smiled faintly. “I had a year. One wonderful year. The Guard barracks was almost like a civilian job, not quite 9 to 5, but I could kiss Nora every morning and be home for dinner every night. The kids I was training were doing all right; Anchorage was freed at the end of January. Shaun was born just before Valentine’s Day, and we settled down into a fairly quiet life for the spring and summer of ‘77. The Marines had taken Shanghai and Nanjing, and the Army was closing in on Beijing from the north and west. There was talk around the Fourth of July that the troops would be home for Christmas. And then…” He trailed off.
Piper reached out, hesitated, then laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Let’s stop here, for now.” She sniffed the air. “Smells like Nat has lunch ready.”
They came downstairs to find Nat setting down two plates with fried Cram sandwiches, carrot sticks, some kind of orange fruit, and a box of snack cakes. “All set, Piper.” She grabbed a plastic Nuka-Cola lunch box. “I’m headed to school; leave me a note if you’re not going to be home for supper.”
Nate chuckled. “Piper, are you sure you’re the older sister?”
Piper glared at him, then reached out and ruffled Nat’s hair. She squirmed away and smoothed her hair down. “Good luck, mister.” Nat wagged her finger at Nate. “Don’t drag my sister into trouble… and don’t let her drag you into trouble.”
She headed out the door; Piper waved Nate to sit. “Eat up, Blue. Nick’s office should be open soon, so we should get going.”
“Thanks.” Nate took a seat and started into his meal. “You think he’ll really be able to help?”
“Mm-hm.” Piper nodded emphatically, answering around a mouthful of sandwich. She swallowed and continued. “His very first case was saving the previous Mayor’s daughter from kidnappers. He’ll investigate everything from break-ins to murders, but his specialty is missing persons. Nick’s also pretty good in a fight; he’ll help you get Shaun back.” She finished her carrots and held up a warning finger. “But he’s not a hired gun, Blue. I know you don’t want to think about it, but if your son’s gone… he won’t help you get revenge.”
Nate flinched visibly, then set his jaw and finished his food in silence. He wiped his mouth and stood. “Let’s get moving.”
Nate left his pack and shotgun behind-Dogmeat was sound asleep on the rug-and followed Piper through the Diamond City marketplace and down a side street. Somewhere near where the shortstop once stood, a garish red neon sign advertised the Valentine Detective Agency. The logo-a heart pierced by an arrow-seemed an unlikely choice for a private investigator, but then again, Nate supposed Nick Valentine was an equally unlikely name. Piper knocked, then went in with Nate following.
Nick Valentine’s office seemed to have started life as a one-story cinderblock building, and then a second floor had been added later. The ceiling was low, the lights were dim, and the walls were lined with filing cabinets, cupboards, and stacks of cardboard boxes. But it was organized clutter, with everything clearly labeled and the two desks clean. The only person inside was a young woman, wearing a frayed flower-print skirt and a leather vest over a faded T-shirt. Her hair was coiled into a bun at the back of her head. She was going through a file drawer with her back to the door; when Piper entered, she glanced over her shoulder and sighed heavily.
“I don’t have a story for you, Piper.” The woman turned to face them; her shoulders were slumped. “Office is closed, I’m taking inventory before shutting it down.”
“Shutting it down?” Piper frowned. “What’s going on? Is Nick retiring, or moving?”
The woman’s voice wavered. “Nick’s missing. He disappeared working on a case two weeks ago.”
Piper’s eyes widened. “Nicky’s missing? What has he got himself into this time?”
She sighed again. “Skinny Malone’s crew kidnapped a young woman. Last time Nick was here, he said he’d found their hideout and was going to try and get her back. I told him it was too dangerous, but…” Her head dropped and a tear ran down her face.
Piper took a deep breath, then puffed her cheeks and blew it out. “You know what we got to do, Blue?”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “Get into trouble?”
Notes:
I have tried to write a reasonable military career for Nate here. I didn't want him to be overpowered, so he's not a badass spec-ops type. But he is an experienced infantry soldier, has a working knowledge of small-unit tactics and how to train soldiers. I'd love to hear what you all think of his backstory!
Chapter 5: A Stroll Through Downtown
Summary:
Nate wants Nick Valentine's help to find and rescue his son, Shaun. But first, he'll have to find and rescue Nick Valentine, who's being held by Skinny Malone's crew of Triggermen, in their hideout in the dangerous ruins of downtown Boston...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Tell us more,” Nate said. “We may be able to help.”
The woman pulled herself together a little. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you what I can.” She seemed to notice Nate for the first time. “Excuse me, I don’t think we’ve met.”
Piper nodded. “Nate, meet Ellie Perkins, Nick’s secretary. Ellie, this is Nathan Connolly. His son’s been kidnapped, and he came to the city looking for help. I offered to bring him to Nick.”
“And get the story, I know how you operate.” Ellie almost smiled. “Normally, we’d be glad to help. Nick’s got a soft spot for kids. But now…” She shook her head. “Nick tracked Skinny and his boys to Park Street Station. Apparently, there’s an old Vault down there he’s using as a base.”
Park Street Station… sounds familiar, but why? Nate couldn’t remember why he knew that station name-he’d rarely used the MTA, preferring to drive. He shook it off-wasn’t important. “Tell me about this Skinny Malone.”
“Skinny’s a lieutenant for the Triggermen.” Ellie lifted a notebook out of one of the drawers and flipped through it. “They’re a criminal gang, operating primarily in old Boston and the northeastern Commonwealth. Major operations are loan sharking, chem dealing, and extortion; they also have their hand in gambling, prostitution, and human trafficking.” She looked up at Nate. “They act like old-time gangsters: pressed suits, machine guns, the whole bit. No one knows who the big boss is; each lieutenant pretty much runs their crew autonomously, though they need permission to operate outside their territory.”
Nate folded his arms. “How many men, and how are they armed?”
“Over a hundred, but they won’t all be in the vault,” Ellie replied. “Skinny has several operations in downtown, and he’ll have people out guarding them, plus roving crews out looking for people to rob or kidnap. My guess? Maybe three dozen in the vault itself, plus guards outside; they prefer Tommy guns and 10mm pistols, but you might see pipe guns or sawed-off shotguns, too.”
That’s a lot of guns, but I need this man’s help if I’m going to get Shaun back. Nate rubbed his chin. “Are they skilled fighters?”
Ellie shook her head. “They’re thugs. They go after people who can’t defend themselves, not large settlements or guarded caravans. They prefer to intimidate their targets rather than actually fight them-but they will kill to get what they want.” She blinked, then scrutinized Nate’s face closely. “You’re not thinking of trying to fight them, are you? Nick was going there to negotiate.”
“I’ll fight if I have to,” Nate said. “It looks like Nick’s the best chance for me to find my son, not to mention the missing girl. Is there any chance they want a ransom?”
Ellie shook her head. “We’d have gotten a demand by now. Same thing if they planned to sell her; Skinny would be just as happy to take our caps as anyone else’s. More likely, the girl saw something she shouldn’t have. In that case, either Skinny would have killed her immediately-in which case he’d just tell Nick that and send him on his way-or he’s holding her hostage, to guarantee the city guards or her family don’t try anything. That’s what Nick guessed, anyway.”
Nate nodded. “The city’s a ruin. Do you have a map, a route to Park Street?”
“I’ll get you there,” Piper said. “The downtown area’s always shifting, with people blocking routes and opening others, but I know all the pathways. We can be there before dark.” She glanced at Ellie. “Can you check in on Nat for me?”
Ellie nodded. “Wait a moment.” She opened a cabinet near the door, revealing a stock of medical supplies. She loaded a small satchel with stimpaks and bandages and handed it to Nate, then took a business card and scribbled something on the back. “Give this to Arturo Rodriguez at the weapon shop. Nick runs a tab there; he’ll let you have some ammo and we can settle later.”
“Thanks.” Nate pocketed the card. “Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ellie bit her lip. “Be careful. Please. The Triggermen are seriously dangerous.”
Nate headed back out to the market and quickly spotted a store with a bright yellow sign featuring a pair of stylized assault rifles and the words “Commonwealth Weaponry” in large, forest-camouflage block letters. A Latino man leaned against the counter, calling out to passersby. He smiled when Nate walked up to him. “Good day, sir. How can I help you?”
“I need some .45 ACP.” Nate handed over the business card. “I don’t want to put too much on Nick’s tab, but at least enough to fill my magazines.”
The shopkeeper frowned. “Begging your pardon, but I don’t know you… and Nick doesn’t use .45, he’s a revolver man. How’d you get this marker?”
“Ellie gave it to him, Artie,” Piper said, stepping up next to Nate.
Arturo relaxed instantly. “Hey there, Miss Wright. You here for a box of ten-mil?”
“I’m good, but Nate here needs the ammo.” Piper put her hands flat on the counter. “Nick’s in trouble and we’re going to try and get him out.”
Without a word, Arturo reached beneath the counter and retrieved a full 50-round box. “Here. What sort of trouble, exactly?”
“Triggermen, Skinny Malone’s crew,” Piper replied.
Arturo’s eyes went wide. “You’re going after Malone? A pistol isn’t going to be enough, want to borrow something real?”
Nate shook his head. “I’ve got a twelve-gauge.”
“Up to you.” Arturo shook Nate’s hand. “Watch yourself out there-and if you, er, ‘find’ any spare guns, I’ll happily buy them off you. Buena suerte.”
Nate thanked Arturo; he and Piper headed back to her shack. She scribbled a hasty note for Nat, then dashed upstairs. Nate sat down at the table and started filling his magazines. His hands knew the procedure, leaving his brain free to go over the situation. A ruined city, then a Vault. He ran through close-quarters drills, visualizing the layout of Vault 111. Piper came back downstairs with a small messenger bag slung over her shoulder and an Army-issue 10mm pistol on her hip. She tossed Nate an energy bar from the cupboard, grabbed one for herself, and stood. “Anything else, Blue?”
Nate slung his bandolier and medic satchel, then grabbed the shotgun and whistled for Dogmeat. “Let’s get moving.”
They left Diamond City, and Piper led the way north and east into the ruined downtown. They moved quickly for a few blocks, then Piper waved for him to stop. “Low and quiet, Blue. This is Super Mutant territory.”
Nate nodded and moved forward at a crouch, picking his footing carefully. Piper went ahead of him, watching the doorways and side alleys. “Watch out for hounds. Super Mutants tend not to post lookouts like raiders or Gunners, but they keep these massive, mutated dogs. If they notice us, they’ll howl and bring the whole damned pack down on us.”
“What the hell are Super Mutants, anyway?” Nate asked. “I thought people affected by radiation turned into ghouls?”
“Mutants used to be people, like ghouls,” Piper replied. “But the change is the result of some sort of custom-made virus from before the war. Not exactly sure on the details, but they’re big, strong, and they don’t get sick very often. On the other hand, most of them are stupid and aggressive; occasionally you’ll find one with the same intelligence as they used to have, though those are more common out West. They keep growing as they get older, starting at about seven feet tall and ending up as big as a house, though Behemoths are rare. They tend to live in groups and raid settlements, and they take people for slaves or for meat. They don’t make much by way of guns or machines, but they can sure use them; you’ll find them armed with everything from two-by-fours and pipe guns to miniguns and rocket launchers. And they’re hard to kill, so we should try to be quiet.” She stopped at an intersection. “This way.”
They picked their way forward, hugging the buildings, ducking beneath windows, and hustling across streets. Dogmeat trotted ahead of Piper, nose to the ground. Nate followed behind, watching his HUD for threats. The city was surprisingly alive. He was picking up contacts, but the Pip-boy didn’t display a size, so it could really be anything, from mole rats to monsters. He could, at least, roughly estimate distance by how fast the dots slid left to right on his compass. He routed Piper away from anything that appeared close while she kept them on course. They were almost across Trinity Plaza when they heard a howl, followed by angry shouts. Piper cringed and ducked into a doorway. Dogmeat turned towards the sound, but didn’t run off. Nate was in the open; he sprinted to a pile of rubble, calling Dogmeat to heel. The dog ran to him as he watched for the threat. He couldn’t see one.
“Humans! You all die!” The guttural yell sounded like it was coming from high up, but Nate couldn’t see anyone. The sound of gunfire crackled through the air. He tucked in tight to his cover and kept still, turning his head slowly to scan for threats. Nothing. He glanced across the street to Piper, who shook her head.
“Get those greenskins!” This time, the shout was clearly human. More shots rang out; they sounded like they were coming from the next block over. Nate pointed to the door behind Piper. She tried it and shook her head, indicating the knob and making a key-turning motion with her hand. The shooting was growing closer and more intense. Nate rose up to a crouch, waited for a surge in the sounds of gunfire, and sprinted to the doorway. He raised his shotgun, blasted the lock off the door, and kicked it in. They hustled inside and closed the door behind them. Nate told Piper to hold Dogmeat’s collar while he took cover next to one of the boarded-up windows.
Three men ran into the plaza from a parallel street. Two were armed with pistols, while the third held a Thompson submachine gun. They turned and fired back the way they came. A massive green creature dashed into the plaza, snarling and snapping its vicious teeth. It howled and charged the gunmen. Two Super Mutants followed; one carried a board with nails hammered into it, the other had a massive concrete-and-rebar club. The hound leapt at one of the men, who fired his pistol and missed. The beast clamped its jaws around the man’s head. The screaming man shot the hound three times, then dropped his gun and tried to shove it off, but it hung on and shook him like a doll. The man thrashed, then went still. The submachine gunner sprayed the hound with a long burst and it dropped in its tracks. The surviving men shifted fire to the leading Super Mutant. It staggered, but kept coming, swinging its board at the man firing a pistol. He tried to duck, but was hit in the ribs and got knocked sprawling. The giant with the club roared and went after the submachine gunner, who stood his ground and emptied the rest of his ammo drum. The mutant took at least two dozen hits and dropped the club, then fell dead. The submachine gunner reloaded, not fast enough to stop the other mutant from smashing his fallen comrade’s head. The mutant chuckled cruelly and turned to the last man, who screamed with rage and charged in firing. It was a mistake; the mutant was hit, but took a big swing with the board and knocked the gun across the plaza. The disarmed man pulled a switchblade and stabbed the mutant in the chest, which did nothing. It roared in pain, grabbed the man and crushed him. Nate took careful aim and fired. This time, he was shooting slugs, not buckshot. The first round blasted a huge hole in the mutant’s belly, the second and third hit in the upper chest. The big green creature took three steps, then fell face down in the street.
“Wow.” Nate blew out a breath. “You weren’t kidding.” He waited for a minute, looking to see the coast was clear, then headed out the door. He dashed over to the submachine gunner, took a knee, and began searching him. Only now did they notice his clothes: a dirty black suit, button-down shirt, and fedora. He looked up to Piper. “Triggermen?”
“Yeah. Must be Malone’s lookouts.” Piper was checking another of the dead gangsters. “Could be lucky for us, if this is all of them. His boys inside the station won’t know we’re coming until we’re inside.”
The submachine gun was smashed, but it fired the same .45 rounds as Nate’s 1911; he pocketed a pair of stick magazines. Piper grabbed some ammo, as well as a Molotov cocktail and some assorted supplies. They headed up the street, passing narrow brick row houses and old stone buildings. A few minutes’ walk, and they came to the edge of Boston Common. What had once been a beautiful park with gardens, shade trees, and well-manicured lawns was now grown wild, a fifty-acre forest in the center of the ruined city. The old swan-boat lake was lined with cattails and reeds and a thicket of brush and vines separated the street from the shadows beneath the trees.
“Careful, Blue.” Piper turned right and walked along the sidewalk, watching the forest. “We’re okay here, but the Common is dangerous, especially at night. Lots of animals come to graze-radstags, rabbit, and more… but they attract predators. Sometimes big ones. People who go into those woods don’t come out.”
Nate nodded. “I know where I am now. Park Street is the intersection up ahead, and the station entrance is right at the corner… Hold up here a moment.” He sat down on a flipped newspaper machine and began racking his shotgun, ejecting the slug shells. Dogmeat took the opportunity to sit and scratch. “Have you been in a gunfight before?”
“Several of them, but nothing serious.” Piper patted her handgun. “I’ve been in caravans that got raided and had people come after me over stories I’ve published. But I’ve only ever fought in self-defense, never attacked anyone. My response to being shot at is usually to run.”
“That’s usually a good idea,” Nate chuckled. He started loading the shotgun with buckshot. “All right, I’ll take the lead from here. Watch our backs, watch side doors. If Nick is hurt, you’ll help him while I cover you.”
They reached the entrance to Park Street Station, a small stone structure covering an escalator leading down underground. The double doors at street level were closed, and no guards were visible. Nate motioned Piper to the door, which swung outward. She walked up to the door and carefully tried the knob, pistol at the ready in her other hand. The door wasn’t locked; Piper made eye contact with Nate and waited. He took a deep breath, then crossed himself, brought his shotgun to low-ready, and nodded. Piper pulled the door open, and Nate moved through at a fast walk, Dogmeat right behind him.
The small vestibule at the top of the escalator was empty, but there was a glow of light coming through the wide archway from the concourse below, along with voices. Nate edged down the escalator, placing each foot carefully to keep quiet. Halfway down, and he could make out what they were saying.
“So, what the hell is going on? Has Skinny gone soft?” The speaker was a young man, and annoyed. “We’ve got a good thing going here, rackets all over downtown. Then some detective comes sniffing around, and what does he do? Locks him up, doesn’t even have the balls to kill him.”
“Skinny’s known Nick a long time.” The new voice was older and calmer. “Also, it wasn’t his call. Orders came from the top. Nick’s got a lot of friends in the Commonwealth, and he didn’t come here looking for a fight. We kill him, the settlements could come after us.”
Nate smiled. He’s still alive, now we just have to get him out. He crept closer, crouching to see down into the ticket hall. The remains of a newsstand were on the right side of the room, with the actual ticket counter on the left. Two corridors led off the hall, one to the platform and the other to the restrooms. There were three men that he could see: one leaning against the wall by the corridor leading to the platform, and two more on a bench on the other side, near the bathrooms. None had long guns, but two were wearing pistol belts; one of the two men on the bench had a baseball bat on the seat next to him. Nate couldn’t shoot from where he was standing; the awkward crouch made it impossible to shoulder the shotgun, and the recoil would send him off-balance. Two together, one apart. Hit the two with guns first. Need to drop them fast, before the guy with the bat can rush me. Nate jumped the last three steps, letting his knees absorb the impact just like he was hopping down from a Vertibird. He brought the shotgun up and fired.
The man leaning against the wall never knew what hit him; the first shotgun blast caught him in the center of the chest. Nate pumped the gun and swung around onto the second gunman. The man with the bat leapt to his feet and stepped right in front of Nate’s shot. He fell dead, but the surviving Triggerman fired a couple of wild shots and ran to cover in the restroom hallway. Nate swore and got behind a pillar. Piper called a warning and started shooting: two more Triggermen had appeared in the ticket booth to his left. Nate cursed and fired twice to make them duck. He edged around the pillar, trying to get some cover against the booth without exposing himself to the guy to his right. Piper fired again, using the escalator handrail for cover. At that angle, she had no real hope of hitting anyone. The Triggermen in the ticket booth popped up, and Nate fired again, hitting one of them in the arm. He took advantage of a momentary lull to shove a couple shells into the shotgun. Piper dove toward the ticket booth, then got against the wall and crawled underneath the window where the two men inside couldn’t hit her. She reached up and blind-fired through the window, then whistled. Dogmeat jumped over the ticket counter, clamping his jaws onto one gangster’s arm. The other one turned to help, and Piper stood up and shot him. The last man took aim at Piper’s back, but Nate smashed him in the face with the butt of his gun. The man fell, stunned.
Piper stepped through the door and disarmed the one Dogmeat was holding, then put her pistol to the back of his neck. “Don’t move.”
Nate listened for more Triggermen and heard nothing. Guess the rest didn’t hear the shots, or gunfire is so common here they ignore it? He slung his shotgun, grabbed the man he’d clubbed and hustled him into the ticket booth, forcing both men to lie face-down on the floor, hands on their heads. He searched the office and found a roll of duct tape. Nate hogtied the two men, then rolled them onto their backs. “Right. Where’s Nick Valentine?”
“Do you know who you’re fucking with?” one of the Triggermen growled. “Even if you get out of here, you’re both dead!”
Nate backhanded the mouthy one across the face. “I won’t ask again.” He gave the man another slap, then drew his pistol and placed the barrel against his temple. “Where is he?”
“Overseer’s office!” The second man practically screamed it. “In the vault, top floor of the atrium.”
“Thanks, boys!” Piper gave them a sunny smile. “C’mon, Blue, help me get these two into the broom closet.”
Nate moved carefully down the stairs towards the train platform, with Piper and Dogmeat trailing behind him. They’d left the two surviving Triggermen tied up, gagged, and locked in the maintenance storeroom off the ticket office. There was still no sign that the rest of Malone’s crew knew they were there, but that couldn’t last. It was dark in the stairwell; there were lights in the concourse and down below, but none on between the floors. He reached the landing, which was full of broken soda and cigarette machines-it looked like they were being scrapped for their mechanical components. Nate began edging around the corner, then froze, waving for Piper to stop. His instincts, his experience, were telling him something was off. There was only one narrow path through the clutter… There! A fine tripwire ran across the choke point. Nate activated his Pip-boy light and stepped carefully over the trap. He followed the wire to the main mechanism, which was set to release a hand grenade hanging overhead. It was a dangerous enough trap, but simple to disarm once you saw it. Nate pocketed the grenade and kept going, slowing to a stop as the platform came into view below him.
The main station platform was dimly lit and run-down, tiles fallen off the walls and loose wires hanging from the ceiling. The far platform held more salvage, everything from engines to washing machines. A subway car had derailed and jammed in the northbound tunnel; it looked like it had been converted into a bedroom. The southbound track held a few flatcars loaded with construction equipment and building supplies. Something was stirring in Nate’s memory, but he ignored it. The priority was the Triggermen he could see… and probably the others he couldn’t. He took a moment to watch the room, then backed up the stairs and took a knee. Dogmeat trotted up and sat by his side.
Piper dropped down next to him, whispering to avoid being overheard. “How’s it look?”
“I saw four, one of them with a submachine gun,” Nate replied. He topped up his shotgun and put a slug in the chamber. “They’re not on alert, just sitting or standing around smoking, but they could have friends further in. Do you have that Molotov handy?” Piper held it up. “All right. Start down; I’ll cover you from the top of the stairs. Find some cover, like one of those pillars. Once you’re in, give me a wave and I’ll start shooting. Once I do, throw the Molotov at the far platform, near the tunnel mouth. Do you understand?”
Piper nodded, looking nervous. She crept down the stairs, staying in shadows as best she could. Nate brought up his shotgun. He moved his head to watch the whole room, but kept his shotgun aimed at the biggest threat: the Triggerman with the Thompson. He was sitting on a crate on one of the flatcars, drinking a soda with his weapon close at hand. Two others were on benches across the room; one was reading an old newspaper, the other was drowsing with his hat over his eyes. The last one was the closest, and was strolling away from the stairs towards the subway car. Piper was about twenty feet behind him, and they still hadn’t spotted her. The walking man turned around, facing directly towards Piper, who froze. Nate brought his gun around as the Triggerman fished in his coat pocket… then struck a match and ruined his night vision. He lit a cigarette, blew out a cloud of smoke, then headed across the tracks. Piper made her way to the column, pulled a lighter out of her pocket, and waved to Nate. He switched back to the man with the submachine gun and fired.
The deer slug tore through the Triggerman’s upper chest; he fell off the crate and was dead before he hit the ground. The rest of the gangsters startled, grabbing for weapons. Piper flicked the lighter, which sparked and went out. She kept on striking it, trying to light the firebomb. The nearest thug saw her; Nate blasted him before he could shoot. The other two Triggermen fired at Nate, but their pistols were useless at that range. Nate sent some buckshot their way, wounding both men but not killing either of them. Piper ran to the nearest dead gangster, grabbed his matches, and lit the wick. The two survivors ran for the tunnel at the end of the platform, yelling their heads off; there were answering shouts from down the tunnel. Piper threw the Molotov, which shattered on the tracks. The tunnel was blocked with a wall of flames, but the two Triggermen had already gotten away.
“Well, they know we’re here now.” Nate descended the stairs, reloading as he walked. Piper ran up to him, stammering an apology, but he waved her to stop. “Don’t sweat it. The plan always goes wrong when the fight starts.”
He picked up the submachine gun and quickly checked it. It was one of the updated Thompson replicas made for police SWAT teams in the 2050s. It had better iron sights and a slightly lower rate of fire than the 1920s original, making for improved accuracy. On the other hand, it was much larger and heavier than the H&K 10mm SMG the Army preferred. The stick magazine was full, and the thug had another in his coat, along with the magazines he’d picked up earlier. Nate gave Piper his shotgun and ammo, then pointed her to cover against the wall next to the tunnel mouth. He got behind a pallet of cinderblocks on one of the flatcars. The flames were largely dying down, leaving a cloud of grey smoke. Nate steadied the Thompson on the top of the pallet and waited for the gangsters to make their move.
Two submachine guns opened up from down the tunnel, spraying wildly into the open room. The fire slowed and three Triggermen burst out of the smoke, pistols at the ready. Nate fired a couple of short bursts, sending the gangsters scrambling for cover. They didn’t see Piper hiding on their flank. Her first shot hit a Triggerman in the shoulder, and he dropped, clutching at the wound. One of the others turned and shot at Piper, forcing her to hunker down. The other ran towards the far platform on Nate’s left; he fired another burst but missed. The Triggerman tossed a couple shots Nate’s way and yelled over his shoulder. A submachine gun chattered down in the tunnel, and two more thugs ran in, one with a Tommy gun and the other carrying a pistol. The submachine gunner fired a long burst, pinning Nate down while two others shot at Piper. She answered with the shotgun, killing one of the pair after her. The guy on the left was trying to get around Nate’s side, but Dogmeat ran at him, snarling. The submachine gunner swung around to fire, but Nate emptied the rest of his clip, driving him back behind cover. Dogmeat reached the man on the left and dragged him down by the arm. Nate ducked down to reload; the submachine gunner heard it and yelled for the rest to attack. The thug with the second Thompson dashed out of the tunnel, moving towards Piper. She fired three shots in rapid succession, wounding the last guy with a pistol. Now empty, she dropped the shotgun and drew her pistol. Nate popped up and finished off the wounded man with a short burst.
The two submachine gunners looked at each other, then sprayed off some rounds and fell back. Nate glanced at Piper, then moved up carefully, taking cover beside the tunnel mouth. Piper flattened herself against the wall next to him, fumbling to load more shells. “What’s the plan?”
Nate leaned out and fired a burst at random. His fire wasn’t near anyone, but the nervous Triggermen fired back, revealing their positions. Nate ducked back thought a moment. “First man is on the right, 35 meters, behind a blue shipping container. There’s a flatcar about ten meters into the tunnel you can use for cover.”
“What’s a meter?” Piper asked, frowning.
Nate blinked, then laughed. “It’s about a yard.” He shook his head. “The other guy is on the left, 40 me… yards, behind a corner. I’ll lay down fire and you move up, then you cover my move.”
Piper nodded; Nate swung out and fired a burst at each of the gangsters. Piper ran out, firing a couple shells of her own. The Triggermen returned fire, but she’d already made it to the flatcar. She fired at one of the enemy as Nate suppressed the other and made his move. He dashed down the tunnel and slid into cover on the far side of the shipping container from one of the Triggermen. He pulled the pin on his grenade, then bounced it down the tunnel. The Triggermen ran for it; the blast got one and Nate gunned down the other.
That seemed to be the last of them, at least for now. With a moment to breathe, Nate and Piper searched the bodies. Piper already had all the 10mm ammo she could easily carry. Nate refilled his Thompson magazines, and one of the dead men had a 50-round drum. It was heavier, but it was worth it. He put the spare magazines into his coat pockets, wishing he had a tactical vest. Nate led the way into what appeared to have once been a maintenance storage area for the subway. It was now full of rusted digging machinery, and a huge Vault door took up most of the far wall. There were no more guards in evidence.
Nate headed up to the door-numbered 114-and found it locked. He smiled. “I don’t see any communication system, like the Vault 111 security shack had. I don’t think anyone inside knows we’re coming… but if anyone’s near the entrance, they’ll certainly hear the door.”
Piper nodded. “Then we better move real quick once the door’s open.”
Nate connected his Pip-boy to the security panel. He typed in a command, and the massive door rumbled open.
Notes:
This chapter is kind of a mixed bag of character development and worldbuilding knitting together a couple of action scenes. This story doesn't have a lot of fights against Super Mutants, but I thought this was a good place for them to show up.
I have four more chapters written, which gives me a couple months to get another one done. Of course, I'm writing Dragon Age at the same time, switching stories every time I hit a writer's block. I'll try to get a chapter out at least every month; I see the interest in this fic and I'm really grateful for it.
Chapter 6: The Man Who Never Returned
Summary:
Nate and Piper have found the Triggermen's hideout in Vault 114. Now all they have to do is get past a gang of thugs, free Nick Valentine, and get out again...
Notes:
If you're from Boston-like some of my cousins-you might know why I chose this chapter title.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Nate crossed the suspended catwalk through the gear-shaped doorway, submachine gun at the ready. There wasn’t anyone in the entry hall, but there were sure to be more Triggermen close. Piper came in behind him with Dogmeat trailing; the giant door rolled into place and slid shut behind them. Nate turned to Piper and put a finger to his lips. She nodded, and they took a quick look around. Vault 114 looked similar to 111, but there were notable differences. It was much cleaner, there were more stacks of supplies and equipment, and several of the fixtures such as lights and electrical boxes were sitting on the floor, not installed. It looked like the vault had been under construction when the bombs fell. Nate moved forward slowly, then froze as he heard footsteps.
“Skinny? Darla, is that you? You’re back early, something go wrong?” Someone was coming from a room to the left. Piper hid behind a crate; Nate used a support pillar in the center of the room. The man came into view; he was holding a bat, this one spiked with nails, but he didn’t have a gun. Nate glanced at Piper, who nodded.
“Hold it!” Nate stepped out, gun up and aimed at the Triggerman. To his left, Piper stood up, shotgun also trained on him. “Down on the ground, right now!”
The thug was completely flabbergasted and simply stood there. Nate moved in and drove the butt of his gun into the Triggerman’s solar plexus. The man doubled over and dropped the bat; Nate kicked it away. He jabbed the barrel of his submachine gun into the man’s spine. “Hands behind your head! All right, move it, and keep quiet or I’ll kill you right here!”
He marched the gangster into the security room to the right off the entry hall, then forced him into a chair. Dogmeat followed him in, and Piper closed the door behind them. Nate frowned down at the Triggerman. “Listen carefully, fella. We’re here for Nick Valentine. I’ve got no problem with you, so if you don’t give me any trouble, you’ll be just fine. Get it?”
The man glared at him. “How’d you get in here? What about all the guys in the station?”
Nate shrugged. “They gave me trouble. A couple of them are just tied up, the rest…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt anyone I don’t have to, but I’m taking Nick out of here. How many men inside?”
“Enough to full you both full of lead.” The thug leered at Piper. “Well, maybe we don’t kill you. That’d be a waste.”
Piper punched him right in the face, then got to work duct-taping him to an office chair. He swore at her, but didn’t struggle-Nate still had a gun on him. She stuffed a filthy rag into his mouth, taped it shut, and smiled. “What’s next, Blue?”
Nate connected his Pip-boy to a terminal on the security desk. “If there really are lots of men in here, we need to slow them down some…” He broke into a smile. “Emergency lockdown!” A klaxon began sounding, and yellow warning lights flashed. “All the room doors are closed and locked. They’ll probably be able to get them open in a little while, but till then, we’ll only have to deal with people who happened to be in the hall when the doors closed.” He tapped a few more keys. “I’ve downloaded a map of the Vault. Let’s get moving.”
He headed out; Piper took a moment to shove the tied Triggerman, who tipped over and crashed to the floor. Nate headed down the main hallway on the Vault’s top level. There wasn’t much up here; the level was dedicated to controlling access, mostly receiving new residents when the Vault first opened. There were a few offices, storerooms still stacked with boxes of jumpsuits. The hallway ended in an elevator, standing open at the top of the shaft. Nate stopped a moment to check his map. Overseer’s office is attached to the atrium. Could get there from the residential levels, but if there’s anyone not locked in their rooms, that’s where they’ll be. Or we go all the way down, the utility section, then come back up the service stairs. He hit the button for the lowest level, and they descended into the Vault.
The elevator doors slid open, and Nate dashed out, sweeping his Thompson side to side. He looked for cover, found none, and dropped prone. He was on a catwalk above the rough-hewn stone floor of a cave. The metal wall of the Vault extended to either side, while the catwalk looped around more piles of building materials before arriving at another door heading back inside. Nate shook his head. “I remember now, there was a scandal around the construction of this vault. The contractor had mob connections-big surprise-and they just ripped off Vault-Tec and the government for a couple billion dollars. Billed for materials they didn’t use, workers who didn’t exist, that sort of thing. Everyone knew it was rotten, but there was never any criminal investigation-either they’d paid off the cops, or the politicians didn’t want to admit they’d been had and tried to sweep it under the rug. Always wondered what my father would have done if he’d been on the job in Boston instead of Queens.”
“And these days, there’s a gang living in here.” Piper chuckled. “I bet they wished their predecessors had done higher quality work.”
Nate grinned and nodded. “Straight down this hallway, then up three flights of stairs, and we come out on the middle level of the atrium, and on to the overseer’s office.”
The bottom level of the Vault was largely empty. They moved ahead at a fast walk, trying not to make too much noise. Nate’s mouth was cotton-dry; he wanted a sip from his water bottle but couldn’t risk lowering his weapon. Not much further. Once we get to Nick, there’ll be a moment while we figure a way back out. They were perhaps 20 yards from the stairwell when Nate heard people coming down. He pointed Piper to cover in a doorway, then found a plastic crate for himself. He took aim on the stairwell door and waited.
“Who the hell is hitting us?” The voice was agitated, with a heavy Southie accent. “Jared’s boys don’t come into town. The Diamond City guards leave us alone so long as we stay off their turf. We made a deal with Bunker Hill. Libertalia never raids anyone who can put up a fight. And even if someone did decide to make a move on us, how did they get the door open?”
“How the hell should I know?” The second voice was deeper. “Dino is asking Valentine that right now. We’ve got to see if we can lift the lockdown and get the doors open; we reset the breakers, maybe.”
The stairwell door opened, and a pair of Triggermen came into view. Nate cut loose with a long burst. The gun jumped from the recoil; he hit both gangsters, but didn’t seriously wound either one. They fired back with pistols and took cover in the stairwell. Nate advanced, fired again to keep them pinned, and whistled. Dogmeat ran in, latched on to one man and pulled him off-balance into the other. The second man stumbled and tried to bring his gun around; Nate shot him, then dashed in and butt-stroked the first man in the side of the head. He fell, out cold, and Piper left him tied to a sturdy pipe. They continued up the stairs to the atrium.
Much like the rest of Vault 114, the atrium was a mess. The bottom floor had been set up as a workspace, with cafeteria tables piled with appliances and other machines in various states of disassembly. The elevator doors were on the second floor mezzanine, with a staircase leading up to a small balcony and the door to the overseer’s office. The room was empty, but for one Triggerman, glaring into the round window.
“Who the hell did you bring here, Valentine?” The man poked the glass. “Is it the Gunners? Talon Company? Who hired you all to take us out?”
“I’m a detective, not a hitman, Dino.” The voice was rough, gravelly, and slightly nasal. “I came here to negotiate for a hostage, and I came alone. Your boss threw me in here two weeks ago, and I have no idea who’s attacking you now. Skinny’s made enough enemies over the years, take your pick.”
Dino was too far away for an accurate shot with an SMG… but he was also looking the wrong way. Nate crept across the room to the stairs to the atrium’s second floor. He took a knee and aimed at the guard, then waved for Piper. She followed him, moving as quietly as possible. Dogmeat brought up the rear; Nate winced at the sound of his claws on the steel floor, but Dino didn’t notice. He climbed the stairs, emerging onto the second floor mezzanine. Now stealth was less important than speed and Nate started moving quickly. He jostled a crate, and Dino’s head snapped around.
“What was that?” Dino looked out over the atrium, but the balcony blocked his line of sight to Nate; Piper had ducked back into the first-floor stairwell. He raised a pipe rifle and headed for the top of the stairs. Nate was waiting with his Thompson at the ready and opened up as soon as his head and upper body came into view. The bullets took a chunk out of Dino’s right shoulder; he staggered, then fired wildly and backpedaled. Nate moved up, trying to catch him before he could reload. He emerged onto the top floor and two bullets zipped by him: Dino had drawn a handgun, but couldn’t shoot accurately left-handed. Nate dropped prone and drilled five rounds into his chest.
Nate moved to the door and connected his Pip-boy to the terminal. He tried a simple “open” command and got nothing. Next, he sent the Vault 111 Overseer’s authorization. The terminal beeped angrily. Nate rubbed his chin. Every military terminal has emergency backdoor access … let’s see if the Vault-Tec ones do. He managed to get a screen of absolute gibberish with a few scattered words. Well, then. If I had the proper list, I’d know which one was the real override… and I can’t afford to guess too many times or it’ll lock me out. He tried three codes and got nothing. Before the terminal locked him out, he disconnected and reset… and got a completely different set of code words.
“I don’t know who you are, but we’ve got about three minutes before they come to check on Dino,” Nick said from inside the office.
Nate tried twice more, then hesitated before the third entry which would require him to start over. He examined the screen, looking for… I don’t know what I’m looking for! Computers are for technicians and spies, not frontline troops. He stomped his foot, frustrated.
“Hey, Blue.” Piper tapped him on the shoulder and held up a scrap of paper. “Dino had the password written down.”
Nate blinked, then rolled his eyes and unlocked the terminal. He opened the door and headed into the office. The room was mostly dark; a single bulb shone down on the round desk behind Nick Valentine. Nick was tall, wearing a beat-up trench coat and fedora. He stepped forward, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. “Thanks for the save, stranger. But I’m curious… What made you risk life and limb for an old private eye?”
He flicked the lighter; the flash illuminated his face and Nate almost jumped out of his skin. “What the hell are you?”
Nick frowned, his tattered silicone “skin” shifting to reveal the mechanical skeleton beneath; his eyes glowed a dim yellow. “I’m a detective. I know the metal parts aren’t exactly comforting, but that isn’t important right now.”
“I’m sorry, Blue.” Piper walked up behind Nate. “We’re used to Nick in Diamond City; I wasn’t thinking, or I would have warned you.” She cleared her throat. “Nate Connolly, meet Nick Valentine. Let’s get out of here for now, and we’ll explain later when we have time.”
Nate shook himself. “Right. Piper, why don’t you hand Nick my shotgun?”
“No need, Dino has my gun.” Nick knelt by the body, holding up an old police-issue revolver. He tucked it into a shoulder holster, eyed the pipe rifle, then shook his head and pocketed the ammo. “I’ll follow you out.”
“What about the girl you came here to find?” Nate asked.
Nick chuckled dryly. “Turns out Darla wasn’t kidnapped. She’s Skinny’s new squeeze, and she’s got a mean streak.”
Piper’s mouth fell open. “Well. Didn’t see that coming.”
“Can’t go out the way we came in.” Nate bit his lip. “If they’ve gotten to the security room, they could stop the elevator and we’d be fish in a barrel. We’ll take the stairs.” He checked his ammo drum, then headed down to the atrium’s bottom level. Nick followed, with Piper bringing up the rear. Nate was in the middle of the atrium floor when he heard people coming in the stairwell.
“Hey, Dino, Nick tell you anything?” The footsteps stopped. “Dino?”
Nate looked around, but there was no solid cover in the atrium. The best he could find was a Nuka-Cola machine lying on its side, so he crouched behind it and waited. Nick was halfway down the stairs; he stopped short and prodded Piper to back up to the second floor.
“Dino! You there?” The voice was more agitated now. “Tiny, check it out. The rest of you, be ready for anything.”
Nate propped his elbow on the soda machine, braced up his Tommy gun, and took aim on the door. He fired as soon as the first Triggerman came through. Nate had been expecting ‘Tiny’ to actually be over six feet tall and burly. He wasn’t expecting him to be wearing police SWAT armor and a tactical helmet. Nate’s burst was dead on, but he hit Tiny in the vest and only staggered him. The big man leveled an equally big Tommy gun and fired. Nate hit the floor as bullets tore through the soda machine. He yelled as pain lanced across his neck, chest, and arms. Half a dozen more Triggermen ran into the room, blasting away at him. Nate tried to shoot back; nothing happened. He drew his 1911, then hunkered down as more and more rounds slammed into the machine, blasting chunks of steel and insulation out the back.
“Blue!” Piper had reached the second-floor walkway just in time to see Nate go down. She raised the shotgun and fired twice, wounding one gangster and sending the rest scrambling for cover. Down below, Nate tried to raise up and shoot, but was driven back to cover by heavy fire. Piper shifted position and killed the wounded Triggerman with her next shot. Tiny and one of the others sprayed bullets up at her, forcing her away from the railing.
While Piper was trying to keep Nate covered, Nick had crossed the bridge to the far side of the mezzanine. Now he drew his revolver. He fired six shots in three seconds; three Triggermen fell dead from perfect double-taps to the chest. Tiny swung around to engage him and Nick pointed to Piper. “Get him out of there!”
Piper headed for the stairs, reloading on the run. “Nate, stay down!”
She reached the bottom and opened up with her shotgun, sweeping left to right. Two Triggermen ducked in time, but she hit one in the side. Nate finished him off, then stopped to reload. Piper moved in, still firing, as Dogmeat raced ahead. He grabbed onto Tiny’s arm and thrashed violently, shaking him so badly he couldn’t shoot. Piper slung the shotgun, crouched next to Nate and tried to drag him to the stairs. There was a yelp and Dogmeat flew across the room, bounced off a table and hit the wall. Tiny glared at them, raising his Thompson.
Nick jumped down from the second floor, landing right next to Tiny. He reached out and grabbed the Tommy gun. The big man wasn’t strong enough with both hands to stop Nick from forcing the barrel up with just one, and a dozen rounds went harmlessly into the ceiling. Nick drew back his free hand and punched Tiny in the face; he staggered, and Nick followed up with a powerful body blow. There was a loud snap as the ceramic plate in Tiny’s vest broke in half. The third punch was a huge uppercut to the jaw which lifted Tiny completely off the floor and snapped his head back; he crashed to the ground, unconscious. There was a sudden quiet; the surviving Triggermen had run off up the stairs.
“We need to get out of here, and fast.” Nick reloaded his revolver in less than a second, hands moving in a blur. “Piper, how’s Nate doing?”
“I’ll be good in a minute,” Nate groaned. Piper got her first good look at him since the fight started. Tiny’s first shots had hit the drum magazine of his Thompson, peppering Nate with shrapnel. He was bleeding from cuts to his upper chest, left arm, and shoulder. Twisted fragments of the drum were still jammed into the magazine well, leaving the weapon useless. Nate sat down at one of the tables and applied a stimpak while Piper checked on Dogmeat and Nick searched the bodies. The dog was bruised, but okay; Nate rubbed his side with pain relief cream from his medic kit. Nick came back to the table with armfuls of weapons and ammo: Nate got a standard Thompson, while Nick took Tiny’s heavily customized weapon. It weighed over twenty pounds, but Nick hefted it easily. They divvied up spare ammunition; Nate took the sticks while Nick got the larger and heavier drums.
“If nobody minds, I’ll lead,” Nick said. Nate nodded, and the detective headed for the stairs. Nate tucked in behind him, with Piper and Dogmeat trailing. They started up the stairs, moving quickly but not so fast they’d blunder into a group of Triggermen. They were nearing the top when the stairwell doors all started to close. Nick was on the third-floor landing; he lunged forward and caught the doors before they could shut. Nick set his feet and forced the doors apart, the metal groaning as he overpowered the hydraulics. Nate raced up to him and took a knee. Triggermen appeared in the hallway, and Nate fired to force them to duck. Nick got the door fully open, and Nate moved through, taking cover behind a crate of plumbing parts. He kept shooting as Piper and Dogmeat came through, then Nick let the door slam behind him. Nate’s gun was empty; Nick took over with long bursts from his hundred-round drum. Piper crouched beside Nate, shotgun aimed, waiting for more of the thugs to pop out. Two did, and she fired, wounding one in the shoulder and ribs. Both Triggermen ducked into a doorway. Nate waved for Nick to hold fire and advanced with his weapon at low-ready. Nick tucked in behind him while Piper brought up the rear. Nate reached the door where the Triggerman had taken cover; a couple bullets zinged out. Nate growled and blind-fired around the corner; someone screamed inside the room.
Nick swept around the corner and fired a short burst. “Drop it!”
“Don’t shoot!” Nate heard a weapon clattering to the floor. He stepped into the room to find one Triggerman dead and the other with his hands up, still bleeding from where Piper had winged him. Nate slung his Thompson and roughly frisked the man; he took a switchblade and both thugs’ pistols and threw them into the hallway.
“Patch yourself up.” Nick tossed the man a stimpak. “I’m going to lock you in here. Just sit quiet until someone comes along.” He and Nate stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind them. Nick ripped the cover off the switch for the hydraulic door, then crossed a few wires. “That’ll hold him, at least for a while.”
Nate nodded and led the way down the hall. His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized they were walking through the residential section… where the bulk of the Triggermen were no longer locked in their rooms. He gripped his gun tight and kept moving, leapfrogging from cover to cover. He was expecting gunmen to ambush him at a junction, where they’d have solid cover on both sides of the corridor. That’s what he would have done under the circumstances. But the Triggermen didn’t think like he did; the ambush did come, but in a very different form. They were moving past a group of apartments when doors slid open on both sides of the hall and several thugs rushed them with bats, knives, and crowbars. Nate got off one wild burst before the gun was knocked from his hands. He missed with a punch, took a heavy blow to the back, then someone tackled him around the middle. He slammed into the wall and fell to the floor with someone on top of him, pounding him with fists and elbows. Nate reacted more from instinct than training, shielding his head with both arms and trying to kick the man off. His attacker bashed him in the ribs, then tried to get his hands around Nate’s throat. Nate held him off with one hand while reaching for his pistol. He managed to draw his gun, then shot the man point-blank. Nate threw the body off, scrambled to his feet, and put his back against a wall.
Piper had dropped the shotgun and was struggling with a knife-wielding Triggerman. Dogmeat was dodging between two men’s legs, snapping at their ankles and avoiding their swings. Nick was holding his own against three, dealing out bone-cracking punches. Piper needed the help, but Nate didn’t dare shoot; he kept his finger off the trigger and clubbed the thug with his 1911. The man staggered and Piper drove her knee into his groin, then picked up the shotgun and broke his nose with the stock. They turned and went after the gangsters attacking Dogmeat. Nate took the smaller thug, leaving Piper and the dog to double-team the big guy. He hammered the Triggerman with the butt of his pistol, sending him reeling. The man spun, swinging wildly with his bat, then another thug crashed into him and they both went down in a heap. Nick stepped up to the pair, kneed one in the face, and smashed the other’s head into the wall. Nate looked around for another threat; two thugs were dead and the others were no condition to keep fighting.
Nate retrieved his submachine gun; Nick did the same. “Right, let’s get out of here.”
The others nodded, and they got moving. There were no more Triggermen on the residential floor; they made it to the front stairwell without any more fights. The door was locked, but Nick was able to hotwire it. They climbed to the top floor, got the last door open, and stepped out into the entry hall. Waiting for them were nearly a dozen heavily armed Triggermen; the three they’d tied up on the way in looked particularly angry. Front and center was a heavyset man with longish black hair wearing a full tuxedo and a fedora. Nick sighed. “Hello, Skinny. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Nicky, what’re you doing?” Skinny Malone had a white-knuckle grip on his Tommy gun. “You bring a merc into my house, shoot up my guys? Do you have any idea what this will do to my operation?”
“This could have been dealt with quietly, Skinny.” Nick jerked his head towards the pretty, dark-haired woman standing next to Malone, wearing a party dress and holding a baseball bat. “All Darla here had to do was write home.”
Darla gasped and put her hand to her mouth in faux shock. “Poor little Valentine. Ashamed you got beat by a girl?” Her face twisted. “I’m not going home.”
Skinny put his arm around her. “We were friends once, Nicky. But I care about Darla, and I’m not letting you or anyone drag her back.”
“Does that sound like me, Skinny?” Nick shook his head. “I don’t drag people anywhere. Her dad told me she’d been kidnapped; if she’s here of her own free will, my job’s done.”
“Bullshit,” Darla spat. “My father wants to marry me off to some rich merchant’s fat son. And he’s never cared what I wanted.”
Skinny frowned. “I’ll buy that from you, Nicky, but then why’s this hired gun here?”
Nate cleared his throat. “I’m not a mercenary, sir. I came to Nick’s office for help, and his secretary pointed me here. I’ll follow Nick’s lead on this one. If he’s willing to walk away, so am I.”
“It’s true, Mr. Malone,” Piper said. “Nick thought Darla was in trouble and came to try to help. Then Nate, here, came because Nick was in trouble. He needed me to guide him through downtown.”
Skinny glanced at his men. “You’re a hell of a gun, Mr. Nate. And you could have killed a lot more of my guys, but you didn’t. That has class. Maybe I’ll let you do some work for me, or maybe pay a fine.”
Darla pulled away from Skinny. “You can’t let them go! If my father finds out where I am…”
“He’ll find out anyway,” Piper said urgently. “Nick’s secretary knows, that’s how we knew to come here, and killing us won’t change that.”
“He’s not going to kill us, we’re walking out of here,” Nate said calmly. “Obviously, there’s no way we win a gunfight against all of your boys. But when the shooting starts, the three of us will aim for you and Darla-and you’re standing in the open without any cover. How do you like your chances? Think you can get all of us before we get you?”
Several of the Triggermen tensed, but no one fired. Skinny’s mouth worked soundlessly, and he glared at Nate. Nate coolly stared him down, and Skinny blinked. “You aren’t worth any more trouble. But if I ever find you in my territory again, you’re a dead man, understand me? Now get out of here!”
Nate began walking toward the door. Darla snarled and started to raise her bat, but Skinny put out his hand to stop her. The Triggermen parted, allowing Nate’s group to leave the Vault. The huge door shut behind them; Nick led the way to a ladder back up to street level.
The fight through the Vault had taken most of the night; the sky was just starting to lighten when Piper clambered out of the tunnels. Nate gave her a hand up, then took back his shotgun and bandolier, slinging both over his shoulders. Nick slid the manhole cover closed and stood. “Mr. Connolly, thank you very much for your help. Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favor, but I need to wrap up this case first. You should head back to Diamond City, get a meal and some rest. I’ll make my report to my client and meet you at my office this afternoon around two.”
Nate nodded. “I’ll see you there.”
Nick handed Piper the Thompson he’d taken from Tiny, then headed off down the street. Piper hefted the big gun and looked around a moment to get her bearings before starting east. They had to cut through a half-collapsed office before coming out by Boston Common. Nate let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped; Piper frowned. “Are you all right?”
“No, I certainly am not,” Nate replied. “This is just too much to take in at once. You have to understand, we weren’t expecting the bombs. We built shelters, we had drills, but the United States was winning the war. The Chinese were in full retreat, running low on fuel and supplies. We were starting to make plans for the future.” He gestured around him at the ruined city. “This is not the future I had in mind. Once I find Shaun, how do I keep him safe from raiders and mutants and monsters? How do I raise him… without Nora?”
Piper pursed her lips. ‘Once I find Shaun.’ He won’t even consider the possibility that his son might be gone. “Nate, the Commonwealth is a rough place. Dangerous creatures, dangerous people, even dangerous weather sometimes. But people make a life here, and they raise families. I know this is all new to you, but you can handle it. And you don’t have to do it alone. There are still good people trying to make things better, like Nick and Ellie, or this Preston Garvey you told me about.”
Nate smiled faintly and raised his eyebrows. “Or you?”
“Hey, I don’t like to toot my own horn, Blue.” Piper shuffled her feet. “I try to do what I can… though not with a gun when I can help it.”
“The pen is mightier than the sword, that’s what they say,” Nate said. He adjusted the shotgun slung across his back, then reached down and gave Dogmeat a scratch. “Come on. The sooner we get back to Diamond City, the longer we get to sleep before it’s time to meet Nick.”
Notes:
There's at least one Ghoul Triggerman in the Vault who was in organized crime before the War. I headcanon that the Triggermen as a group have existed pretty much continuously since then, they are descendants of the actual Boston syndicate.
Chapter 7: Getting a Clue
Summary:
Nick's on the case, helping Nate find Shaun. The clues point to a house in the bad part of town, belonging to a notorious mercenary...
Chapter Text
Rain poured down on Diamond City. It washed the grease and grime off the buildings, streaming through the gutters with a multicolored oily sheen. Thunder shook the metal roof, making the ceiling fan sway. Nick Valentine leaned back in his chair, watching the blades cut through the smoke from his cigarette. Ellie had finished reading him the riot act for not being careful enough and was at her desk in the corner, typing up his notes on the Malone kidnapping matter. It had been a surprising affair, and yet, Nick suspected that his next case would be even more interesting.
A small bell tinkled as the door swung open; in walked Piper Wright, the reporter, editor, and printer of Publick Occurrences, the city’s one and only newspaper. The lady was trouble, but she had a good heart. She and Nick traded information at least once a week, and she would steer potential clients his way. One such client entered the office behind her. Nate Connolly had managed to rescue Nick from Skinny Malone and his new gun moll Darla. He’d accomplished this by breaking into a Vault and shooting his way past an army of thugs with only Piper and a dog for backup. Three things I want to know, Nick thought. First, where did Nate come from that I’ve never heard of him? Second, why does he need a detective badly enough to come after the Triggermen to get one? And third… who would deliberately provoke a man who’s that good in a fight and that willing to charge into one?
Nick stood to greet the pair. Let’s find out. “Welcome back, Mr. Connolly. Please, take a seat, and tell me what the trouble is.”
Nate dropped into a chair across from Nick. “My son, Shaun, has been kidnapped. The people who took him murdered my wife. He’s been missing three to four days, I think. Could be more.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Nick said, sitting. Behind him, Ellie had a clipboard out and a pen at the ready. “I’ll do everything I can to help; right now, I need information. Let’s start with some background.”
“Let me save you some time,” Piper interjected, handing Nick her steno pad. “My notes from interviewing Nate yesterday.”
Nick took the pad; his eyes zipped back and forth as he flipped through the pages. “You’re Pre-War, huh? That’s amazing. And you served in the war! I was wondering where you’d learned to fight. Then, when the bombs dropped, you and your family got into a Vault.” He leaned forward slightly. “Now, the kidnapping. I need the full details to help you. Tell me everything you can, no matter how painful it might be. Where were you when the attack took place?”
“Still in the Vault, frozen in our cryo pods,” Nate said, grimacing. “I’m fairly sure that the kidnappers woke us up. Shaun’s less than a year old; he was in with Nora.”
“You were still on ice,” Nick said, thinking. “More to the point, you were underground, in a secure facility. Getting into one of those is not easy, our little adventure with the Triggermen notwithstanding. The people who took your son went to an awful lot of trouble. Now, the hard part. Tell me how it happened.”
Nate took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I think it was a small group. I only saw a man and woman through my pod’s window, but there could have been more people out of my field of view. The woman pointed out Nora and Shaun’s pod, then opened it. Nora was disoriented like me; the woman tried to take Shaun and Nora wouldn’t let him go. The man, he pulled a gun and threatened Nora. She just held on to Shaun, and he…” Nate’s head dropped. “He shot her point blank. I was right there, but I couldn’t do anything.”
Behind Nate, Piper reached out for his shoulder, hesitated, then pulled her hand back. Nick waited a few moments for Nate to compose himself, then continued. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard, but you’re giving me useful information. We know we’re dealing with cold-blooded killers, but they didn’t resort to violence until something went wrong. That makes me think ‘professionals.’ You said one of the kidnappers pointed out your wife and son. Did they thaw any of the other pods?”
“No, they shut them off and killed the occupants.” Nate replied. “We scavenged the Vault later on and had a look at the computers. When my family’s pods were thawed, life support was cut to the others.”
Nick nodded. “Sounds like they knew what they were looking for. So, why your family in particular, and why an infant? The people who took your son would have to care for him, and a baby needs a lot.” He leaned back in his chair. “Let’s talk about the kidnappers. Can you describe them?”
“Not the woman; she was wearing some sort of environment suit with a full-face mask. The man who shot my wife, though…” Nate’s mouth tightened. “White. Mid-forties. My height, maybe an inch taller. More muscular than me, but not heavyset. He was bald, classic male-pattern; the hair he still had was black or dark brown, with a short, full beard. Brown eyes, long vertical scar over his left eye. He killed Nora with a large-frame revolver.”
Nick gestured to Ellie, who finished making notes on her clipboard and started going through her file cabinets. “That’s a very detailed description, plenty to go on. While Ellie gets started, let me tell you what I’ve gathered, though it’s mostly blinding flashes of the obvious.” Nick leaned on the desk, interlacing his fingers. “This was no random kidnapping. The kidnappers knew about your Vault, about your family inside, and how to get in. They came willing to kill and specifically intending to take your son.”
“Cut to the chase, Nick,” Piper said. “You know it’s the Institute.”
“I don’t know that, and neither do you,” Nick snapped. “We both suspect the Institute is responsible, but we don’t have proof.”
Nate frowned. “What’s the Institute?”
“They’re a powerful and mysterious faction, descended from the old Commonwealth Institute of Technology,” Nick replied. “The Institute is hostile towards pretty much everyone; they attack settlements from time to time, mostly to steal parts. The thing that sets them apart from Raiders and the like is their technology, most of all synths. Synthetic humans, manufactured with advanced artificial intelligence.”
“And that’s what you are, a synth?” Nate asked.
Nick chuckled. “You’re very polite about it, once you got over the shock. Yes, and no. I’m a synth and from the Institute, but you won’t see another like me.”
“Some Institute synths are basically robots, not much different than a pre-War Mr. Handy or Protectron,” Piper explained. “Those things aren’t all that bright, but they’re strong and tough. Now the advanced synths are a whole other thing. They’re not mechanical, they look just like us. They eat. They bleed. They talk and think like people. The only machine parts they have are a few tiny circuit boards inside the brain, which don’t show up on X-rays or other scans. The only way to find them is dissecting the brain… Meaning it’s impossible to tell if someone’s a human or a synth without killing them.”
“I’m somewhere in the middle,” Nick said. “I think I’m an experimental model that got thrown out. I woke up in a scrapyard in Cambridge decades ago, in a pile of synth parts and machinery with no memory of how I got there. I’m mechanical, and my brain is a computer… but I have memories from a pre-War human cop. My guess is I was one of the early experiments in giving synths human-level thinking, and they dumped me when they were through.”
Nate nodded. “And you think the Institute are responsible?”
Piper started talking before Nick could say anything. “They’ve got the knowhow to get into the Vault, they’re utterly ruthless, and they’re known to kidnap people. Sometimes they leave a synth double in their place, sometimes the people just vanish.”
Nick cleared his throat. “None of which is evidence. The Institute are the boogeyman of the Commonwealth; anytime something goes wrong, people blame them-especially you, Ms. Wright. But they aren’t the only ones who could have gotten in, and they aren’t the only ones who might try.”
Piper opened her mouth to retort, but Ellie spoke up first. “Nick, I think I’ve got something. That scar really narrowed things down.” She opened one of the file drawers, pulled out a folder, and started reading. “Kellogg, first name unknown. Bald, scar, reputation as a high-priced freelance mercenary. Employer unknown.” She looked up from the file. “He owns a house in the West Stands, and he’s been seen with a young boy, about ten years old.”
Nate came out of his chair. “Here? He lives here?”
“Easy, now, Mr. Connelly.” Nick held out a hand. “We’ll go take a look, but you must keep your cool. This is a civilized town, and that means laws. If you go after Kellogg without evidence, you’ll end up looking at assault charges or worse.” Nick spread his hands. “Of course, if he is the one you’re looking for, he’s likely to attack you…”
“And no one would object to me defending myself.” Nate nodded, understanding. “All right, what’s your suggestion?”
Nick stood. “Let’s head over there and see if he’s home. Leave the big guns behind, heavily armed groups make the city guard nervous. Three people with handguns should be plenty if it comes to a fight.”
“What about the kid?” Piper pointed at Ellie’s file. “You said he had a boy with him. Is it another kidnapped child, or does he have a son? Either way, how can we make sure he’s safe if Kellogg starts shooting?”
Nate rubbed his chin. “I think that’s you, Piper. If Shaun or the boy is there, you should grab them and get them out of danger. Nick, you agree?”
Nick nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s get moving.”
“Really, Nick?” Ellie put her hands on her hips. “You aren’t waiting a whole day before doing something else dangerous?”
“You’d rather I head into the West Stands after dark?” Nick smiled faintly. “At least I’m not going alone this time.” Ellie rolled her eyes; Nick headed out with Nate and Piper following.
Every city that has ever been built has a “bad part of town,” and in Diamond City, it was the West Stands. Mismatched shacks were crammed in on four tiers up the old bleachers, divided by dark, narrow alleys. Beneath that, the concession stands, souvenir shops, and offices had been converted into a warren of apartments, workshops, and storerooms. Down there were no windows, few lights, and lots and lots of trouble. They climbed the stairs from field level as green-yellow lightning split the sky overhead. They had, Nick found, one sliver of luck-the address was on the middle tier, above ground, not down in the dark concourse. The place they were looking for was a fairly small shack backed up against the upper deck overhang. Nick could hear Nate’s breathing quicken as they approached the door… which was padlocked.
“What do you think, Nick?” Piper’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re good with locks, think you can open it?”
Nick examined the lock. “I certainly could, but I won’t.” He pointed to the white diamond painted onto the padlock. “This house has been seized by the city. We want in, so it’s time for a visit to the mayor’s office.”
Nate followed Nick back toward the entrance to Diamond City, stomach twisting. If the building is seized, Kellogg isn’t there. So where is he, and is Shaun still with him, or somewhere else? They took a ramp to a window-washing rig which had been pressed into use as an elevator, rising up to the windows of the old press box. They stepped off the hoist platform into a combination waiting room and outer office, with a few chairs against the inner brick wall, and a row of filing cabinets beneath the windowsill. A few potted plants sat in the corner to Nate’s right, the first he’d seen since leaving the Vault. A member of the city guard leaned against the wall opposite the elevator, arms folded, rifle slung.
An attractive blonde in her mid-twenties sat behind a desk at one end of the room; she saw Nick and waved. “Hello, Mr. Valentine! So glad you’re back safe.” She rose and extended her hand to Nate. “And you must be Mr. Connolly. I’m Geneva, Mayor McDonough’s secretary and city clerk. Thank you for helping Nick, the mayor and I are both incredibly grateful.”
“Geneva and Ellie meet about once a week for lunch and gossip,” Nick said.
Nate shook hands. “I’m happy I could help, ma’am. And I’m in need of some help myself.”
“Well, you’ve certainly earned it,” Geneva replied. “Tell me what you need, and we’ll see if I can help you, or if you need to see the mayor.” She looked past Nate, saw Piper, and her face went sour.
Nick cleared his throat. “The city has seized and sealed a house on Grove Row, in the West Stands.” He handed Geneva a scrap of paper with the address. “The owner is a gun for hire named Conrad Kellogg, and he matches the description of the man who murdered Mr. Connelly’s wife and kidnapped his baby son. We need to get in there and search the premises.”
Geneva didn’t read the address. “I remember this one. The property tax hasn’t been paid for this quarter, we received no reply to our warning letter, and there appears to be no one living there. We seized the property about two weeks ago.” She bit her lip. “I can’t authorize that myself, we’ll have to talk to Mayor McDonough.” She glanced at Piper. “You’ll have to leave, Ms. Wright. You can meet up with these two later.”
Piper’s face reddened. “You’re blocking my coverage? You have no right to do that!”
“Piper, please.” Geneva came out from behind the desk. She reached out to Piper, but the reporter swatted her hand away. “You know how angry you make the mayor. If he sees you, he’ll deny the search.”
“No, he won’t.” Geneva gasped and spun around; Mayor McDonough was standing in the doorway behind her desk. “Ms. Wright, I owe you an apology. I overreacted yesterday morning; if I’d been thinking clearly, I’d never have locked you out. Miss Perkins told us how you helped our new guest to rescue Mr. Valentine. Sometimes I forget that we both want to help this city, though we disagree on how.”
Piper twisted her hands together. “I believe the people need to hear the truth. And I don’t understand the choices you make.”
McDonough nodded. “Some people can handle the truth, Piper. Others can’t. And the truth is, Diamond City needs public confidence to survive.” He walked to the window, looking out over the old stadium. “4,873 people live in the shelter of the Wall. We can only produce enough food and water for perhaps a hundred. This city exists because of trade. We need the caravans to keep coming through, and they keep coming because the Great Green Jewel is the safest place in the region.” He turned to face Piper, hands on his hips. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the city’s been infiltrated by the Institute. But there’s no way to know, no action I can take. So what’s the point in keeping it in the paper? All you’re doing is undermining everyone’s confidence in me, and in the city guard. The Institute is out there. Maybe it’s even in here. There’s nothing I or anyone else can do about it.” He turned to Nick. “But if a killer has been hiding in the city, I can do something about that. You’ve got my permission to search the house. A member of the city guard will escort you.”
“That went surprisingly well,” Nick said as the lift descended. “I was expecting at least some pushback, since all we’ve got is an eyewitness description.”
Piper snorted. “Probably didn’t want to have to explain why he was holding up a kidnapping investigation.”
Nick gave her a sharp look. “He probably doesn’t! Even if he had a good reason to turn us down, he gave in because he was scared of another nasty story in the paper. The last time, you practically called him a synth.”
“It makes sense,” Piper said, stepping off the platform. “It’s one thing to say, ‘We can’t detect synths, so security resources are better spent elsewhere.’ But he flat-out tells anyone who will listen that there are no synths in Diamond City. The only way he could know for sure either way is if he’s in cahoots with the Institute.”
“Or he’s making a statement when he has no actual knowledge,” Nick retorted. “You know, just like you? He’s not wrong about business in the city. It’s just as likely he’s a typical politician, desperate to keep his supporters happy.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “You ever wonder if he thinks you’re a synth? Questioning his policy, undermining public confidence in city leadership, maybe spreading Institute propaganda…”
“That’s just, that’s ridiculous,” Piper spluttered. “Anyone can see I’m just trying to keep the people alert! People need to know that they can’t trust…” She trailed off as Nick chuckled. “Blue, are you teasing me?”
“A little,” Nate said. “But I think Nick has a point. I can believe the mayor has good intentions. I don’t approve of deceiving the people you serve, but I can understand why someone would. On the other hand…” He smiled. “It’s the duty of the press to poke politicians with a stick.”
That got both Nick and Piper laughing, and they kept chuckling through the market and up the ramp to the West Stands. Waiting just outside Kellogg’s house was a guard, who waved as they approached. “Hey, Nick! Looking for trouble again so soon?”
“You know I don’t go looking, people bring their troubles right to me.” Nick gestured. “My client, Nate Connolly. Nate, this is Guardsman Danny Sullivan. He helps me out from time to time.”
“We’ve met,” Danny said dryly. “Piper used him to bluff her way back inside yesterday… and I fell for it, which is why I’m on babysitting detail.” He gave Piper a halfhearted glare. “You could have waited ten minutes, and I’d have gotten you in one of the side doors, nice and quiet. Couldn’t you tell I was blowing you off because the mayor was right there?”
Piper grinned. “If I did that, I wouldn’t have had the chance to annoy McDonough.”
Danny groaned. “All right then, let’s get to work. Nick, the front door was locked when we sealed the property, so as far as I know, nothing’s been disturbed.” He produced a key and removed the padlock. “Door is still locked, though. I’ll let you handle that.”
Nick stepped up to the door, pulling a small tool case from his coat. He retrieved a small Allen wrench and put some torque on the lock, then probed the pins with an old dentist’s pick. Nothing happened but a slight scraping noise. Nick said nothing, just kept working the lock. In half a minute or so, there was a faint click and the lock turned. Nick smiled. “There. I think we might be on to something here; that was a really tough lock.” He opened the door and headed inside, with the others following.
The house was even smaller than Piper’s, perhaps fifteen feet by twenty. The interior was one room, with a wooden stairway leading to a loft above the front door. The front and side walls were made of sheet metal, while the back one was part of the stadium itself. The room had little in the way of furniture, with a desk against the back wall facing the door, and a beat-up couch and television under the stairs.
“All right, everyone, have a look around,” Nick said. He opened the tool case and took out a small brush. “I’m going to try and get a set of fingerprints for our friend Kellogg. If you think you’ve got something important, call me over.”
They spread out, but there wasn’t much to search. Nick dusted the door handle and lifted a couple of prints, then went to work on the television knobs. Nate had a look around the desktop, but it was bare save for a steel toolbox with a few basic hand tools. The drawers only held a few office supplies and the odd food wrapper. There were some papers scattered around, but they appeared to be an innocuous assortment of shopping lists, schedules, and the like, nothing that seemed too important at first blush. More interesting was the wastebasket: It was full of ashes and charred scraps of paper.
Nate looked up. “Someone’s been burning documents here.”
Piper crossed her arms. “I don’t see pots and pans. No stove or hot plate. No food or water. This place has been cleaned out.”
“No clothes in the dresser up here,” Danny called from the loft, “But there’s two mattresses, a couple ratty blankets, and I found these.” He held up a pair of handcuffs. “They were hooked to a pipe by one of the beds; he was holding someone prisoner.”
Nick nodded. “He wouldn’t have needed cuffs for the baby. Maybe the boy?” He shook his head. “In any case, Kellogg packed his things, so he wasn’t planning to come back here, and he burned his papers, so he expected someone might search the place.”
“Aha!” Everyone turned to see what had Piper excited. She was crouched behind the desk, looking into the leg space. “I got a hidden button here. Let’s see what it does.”
There was a small click, and a section of wall slid aside to reveal a small hidden room. Nick headed in first with Nate following; Piper and Danny craned to see through the door. One wall was lined with shelves full of supplies, everything from food and water to beer and cigarettes. There was a chair and table in the center of the room, along with a circuit diagnostic machine in the corner. Nate hung back and let Nick search.
“The usual food, nothing special.” Nick eyed the diagnostic machine. “This is probably from a local repair shop… but this booze isn’t.” He raised a bottle of liquor. “Imperial Valley whiskey. It’s distilled in the New California Republic, aged in pre-War wine barrels. And here.” He showed Nate a pair of cigar boxes on the shelf; one held the expected cigars, but the other was full of .44 Magnum ammunition. Nick held up one of the boxes so Nate could see the design on the lid. “San Francisco Sunlight cigars. They are also made in the NCR. And lastly, the ammo.” He held one up and twisted the oddly-shaped bullet out of the casing. “These aren’t your usual .44 Magnum rounds. They’re semi-wad-cutter projectiles, loaded ‘hot’ with extra powder. This cartridge load is popular in the NCR and the Mojave Wasteland.”
He straightened up. “Nate, there is good news, and there is bad news. The bad news is, it’s four days since Shaun was taken. Anything nasty that was going to happen to your son has likely already happened. The good news is, everything I’ve heard tells me Kellogg’s employer-whoever they are-wants your son alive. And now we’ve got a chance to find him.” He held up one of the .44 rounds. “This is a custom load; Kellogg would have to special-order these from a weapons dealer. And the cigars and whiskey had to be imported from California. I should be able to ask around the merchant caravans, find out who’s been ordering these items, and track him down. Danny and the city guard can help with that.” Nick met Nate’s eyes. “But it’s not going to happen quickly. The long-haul caravans travel hundreds of miles, and they can take weeks to travel their routes.”
Nate’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “In that case, I should probably head back to Sanctuary Hills. How will you contact me when you get a lead?”
“Have you got a radio?” Nick asked.
Nate held up his Pip-Boy. “This can receive the usual commercial band, plus emergency frequencies. I picked up Diamond City Radio on the way here.”
Piper shook her head. “You need a two-way set if you’re trying to start a settlement. Calling caravans for trade, asking the doctor to swing by, that sort of thing. You should be able to find one at the shops here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Nate replied. He turned to Nick and offered his hand. “Thanks for the help, Nick. You’ve given me some hope, at the very least.”
“It’s my job,” Nick replied, shaking hands. “Take care of yourself, Nate. Hopefully, I’ll have news for you soon.”
With Danny’s permission, they packed up the supplies from Kellogg’s hidden room, enough to completely fill Nate’s pack and satchel. Nick followed Danny back to the guard barracks to get the search started. Piper and Nate headed back to the weapons shop. Nate traded in the Tommy guns; combined with the money from Sturges, he had just enough to buy a combination CB and shortwave set. Piper followed as far as her shack, where they paused to say goodbye.
“Hey, Blue, good luck out there.” Piper pressed a box of snack cakes into Nate’s hand. “Life in the Commonwealth can be hard, but don’t give up.”
Nate pocketed the box, then raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask me if it’s okay to publish?”
Piper shuffled her feet again. “I don’t think it’s worth the risk. Kellogg covered his tracks just in case someone was after him. If he knew someone was, who knows what he might do?”
“Thank you,” Nate said warmly. He cocked his head, thinking. “You might run a story about Nick’s rescue from the Triggermen. Don’t mention where I’m from, just someone who needed Nick’s help.”
“People around here do like good news,” Piper agreed. She put her hands on her hips. “You better get moving if you want to make some distance before dark.”
Nate nodded, whistled for Dogmeat, and headed for the city gates. Piper waved, then turned and went inside.
Nat was sitting on the couch with a clipboard on her lap, doing homework. She looked up and smiled when Piper came in. “Hey, sis! Ellie told me you found Nick. Did he help Nate?”
“He’s trying to,” Piper replied, reaching out to ruffle Nat’s hair. “Nick’s starting his investigation now. Nate’s going back home until he finds something.”
“Sounds good,” Nat said. She eyed Piper, then smiled smugly. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”
Piper flinched, then crouched down, holding Nat’s hands in hers. “Sis, Nate’s married, or he was. Someone murdered Nate’s wife and took his baby son less than a week ago.”
Nat’s eyes went wide. “Oh! I’m so sorry. Do you… do you think Nick will find him?”
“I hope so, Nat,” Piper replied. “He’s a good man.” And he IS cute.
Nick strolled through a back alley at the base of the West Stands, stepping through shafts of dusty sunlight. He’d left Danny Sullivan at the barracks to make his report to the guard captain, promised to send a copy of his notes, and was on his way back to the office. His hunch had been correct… this was going to be an interesting case. Nick was now fairly sure who had broken into Vault 111, killed Nate Connolly’s wife, and taken his son. The question was, why? What was so important about a baby boy who’d been in suspended animation for centuries?
“I hear you’re looking for a bald guy.” There was a man leaning against the wall just inside the tunnel to the concourse, the shadows hiding his features.
Nick snorted. “Took your time getting here.” He lit a cigarette, the flame from his Zippo reflected in the man’s sunglasses. “Yes, I’ve got a line on Conrad Kellogg, but that’s not why I called you. This new client of mine, Nate Connolly… I think he’s your kind of people.”
The man nodded. “We’ll see. You know what the boss is like about outsiders. In any case, I’ll be keeping an eye on our new friend.” He ducked into the concourse and vanished.
Chapter 8: Way Back Home
Summary:
Nate returns to Sanctuary, and finds that his new neighbors are making progress on making a home for themselves. He also learns that the raider threat is still very present...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Nate got in six hours of walking before he went looking for a place to sleep, which turned out to be an old equipment shed at the roadside, just north of Lexington. He decided to wait on breakfast and see if Trudy had any hot food on offer at the old diner. It wasn’t more than an hour’s walk, but as Nate drew in sight of the diner, he heard raised voices in the distance. He frowned and quickened his pace.
“We want our money, Trudy.” The speaker had a harsh and nasal voice. “You sold our gear without our permission.”
“I picked up some salvage in Concord, nothing wrong with that,” Trudy replied, an edge in her voice. “I don’t see how I owe you or Jared anything, Wolfgang.”
Nate stopped in his tracks. Raiders. He took a knee, set his heavy bags on the ground, and unslung his shotgun. He clicked his tongue softly and Dogmeat trotted up beside him. Nate moved in, staying low and keeping the building between him and the raiders. He was able to get a look through the windows; Trudy was facing down a pair of raiders and a mean-looking Rottweiler, armed only with a length of pipe. Her son Patrick was hunkered behind one of the booths, holding a pipe pistol and shaking. Nobody saw Nate, who moved to his right along the wall.
“You know damned well that wasn’t salvage,” Wolfgang snarled. “Those were our weapons and supplies, left behind after the fight in Concord.”
Trudy laughed hollowly. “You mean the fight you lost. I’m not paying you dirty chem pushers anything. You’re washed up, and everyone around here knows it.”
The woman behind Wolfgang raised a pipe rifle. “You watch your mouth, bitch.”
Nate had made it to the side of the diner; now he stepped out into the road, shotgun up and aimed and Dogmeat by his side. “What’s the problem here, Trudy?”
Wolfgang eyed Nate’s shotgun, then his Vault suit. “None of your concern, Vault boy. Why don’t you run back home?”
“Wait.” The woman frowned at Nate, then her eyes went wide. “A vault suit and a dog… This is the guy!”
“Huh?” Wolfgang flinched, then dove sideways, drawing a pipe revolver.
Nate missed with his first shot, then ducked back around the corner of the diner as both raiders opened up. Their dog went after Trudy, snarling. She clubbed it but didn’t bring it down; the Rottweiler knocked her over. Patrick emptied his magazine out the window, then ran to kick the dog off his mother. Nate leaned out… and didn’t see the raiders. Shots rang out and Nate dropped flat, swearing under his breath. Wolfgang and his partner had gone down the embankment beside the road. They were lying down behind trees, in solid cover. Nate took aim and fired, missing high; his next shot blew chips out of a tree trunk, but did no damage. Wolfgang fired four times, then ducked down to reload.
Nate topped off his shotgun, then snapped his fingers. “Sic ‘em!”
Dogmeat charged in, barking furiously. Nate stood out of cover and emptied his shotgun at the raiders to keep their heads down, then drew his 1911. Wolfgang blind-fired at Nate and missed. He scrambled to his feet to avoid Dogmeat, but the dog latched on to his ankle. Nate drilled him twice in the chest. The woman took off running, dropping her rifle in the street. Nate fired over her head to keep her running, then holstered his pistol.
“And stay out!” Trudy crowed. She stood in the doorway of the diner, one arm bloody but grinning ear to ear. “I owe you a drink and a meal for this one, fella. Come take a load off.”
Nate collected his bags and the raiders’ weapons, then headed into the diner. Trudy had lit a fire in the old oven, and she and Patrick were sitting in one of the booths, patching their injuries. Trudy had gotten away with just a few cuts on her left arm, but Patrick had been bitten in the leg and needed a stimpak. By the time they’d treated their wounds, there were flames licking up between the coils of the old range top. Trudy set a soup pot on the stove and added the contents of two big Mason jars. Whatever it was, it started smelling good right away, and Nate’s stomach growled.
Nate flopped down into a booth and gave Dogmeat a scratch behind the ears. “So, whatever possessed you to take on two raiders and a dog with only one gun between you? Or did you see me coming?”
Trudy chuckled. “They didn’t even know I had that one, and the last time any of Jared’s raiders saw Pat, he was strung out. I thought he could surprise them, and I’d be able to get in close.” She shook her head. “Maybe not the brightest idea, but I’ve had about enough of those bastards.”
“If you sold off the gear they left in Concord, why didn’t you keep some of the weapons?” Nate asked.
“Weren’t mine to keep,” Trudy replied.
Patrick nodded. “Your friends Preston and Sturges scavenged the town a few days ago. They brought the stuff to us, and we sold it to a caravan on commission.”
Nate nodded. “That’s fair, though I’m sure they’d have given you a couple guns if you’d asked. Why don’t you keep these two?” He set down the pipe revolver and rifle he’d taken from the raiders. “I might not happen to be walking by next time.”
Patrick grinned and nodded. Trudy brought a tray with three steaming bowls and three Nuka-Colas. Nate took a bite, then before he knew it half the bowl was gone. “Hey, this is amazing! What is it?”
Trudy grinned. “It’s Connie Abernathy’s summer stew. The Abernathy farm is just a little west of Concord, under the old power lines. Her soups and stews are the best around, and she sells fresh produce and canned goods, along with seed, manure, and compost if you need it.”
“I suppose I’ll go see her.” Nate leaned back in his chair and sipped his soda. “My friends are trying to get supplies in for the winter.”
“They’re good people,” Patrick said. “If you buy from them and ask nice, they’ll give you pointers on how to set up your own crops next spring.”
Nate finished his stew and stood. “Trudy, Patrick, thank you for breakfast. I need to head home, but I’m sure I’ll be back before long.”
“I know you folks are still setting up. If you need something, ask. If I don’t have what you need on hand, I can usually get it from my caravan contacts.” Trudy shook Nate’s hand. “We’ve got to stock up for winter ourselves, for us and the store. Patrick and I are leaving in a few hours, heading for Diamond City and some other trading posts. Should be gone for a week; once we get back, the store will be open every day until it gets too cold. After that, you can radio us and we’ll set up a meet.”
Nate said his goodbyes, then headed out, Dogmeat running ahead of him. He passed through Concord, noticing that the bodies of the raiders were gone. The Museum was covered with graffiti, mostly insults and badly-spelled threats against the Minutemen. Nate chuckled, then frowned. We’re going to have to deal with those raiders in order to be safe in Sanctuary. He left Concord and started up the hill towards the Red Rocket.
“Hey, Nate!” Preston was standing atop the gas station roof, musket at the ready. “Are you hurt, is everything all right? We heard gunfire from Concord.”
Nate grunted. “That was me, and I’m fine. Couple raiders were giving Trudy some trouble over at the Drumlin; I killed one and the other ran off.”
Preston relaxed and slung his musket. “Nice work. Glad to see you’re back safe.”
“Master Nate!” Codsworth called. The robot was hovering high up under the gas station awning, doing something to the window frames. “Welcome back, sir. It’s good to see you.”
“Hi, Codsworth!” Nate waved, then pointed to the building. “What’s the project?”
Codsworth descended to his usual level. “Let me show you.” One eye swiveled to look into the building. “The mechanism is lubricated, Mr. Sturges. Try it now.”
“Thanks, Codsworth!” There was a metallic rattle as the old security shutters rolled down over the windows. Sturges emerged from the garage, grinning. “That’ll slow the raiders up. Keep the rain out, too. Hey, Mr. Connolly.”
Nate made a face. “Neither one of you is going to call me Nate anytime soon, are you?”
“Nope,” Sturges chuckled. “Nice to have you back.”
Codsworth hovered forward and took Nate’s bags. “Forgive my asking… but have you any news regarding young Shaun?”
Nate slumped and sighed. “I’ve made some progress, but this isn’t going to be easy. Let’s get back to the house, and I’ll tell everyone at once.”
As Nate crossed the bridge, he saw his new neighbors had been busy. The collapsed houses on either side of the Rosa house had been dismantled. Siding, framing, and other components were neatly stacked on the concrete pads and covered with tarps. Nate’s home and a few other houses had been partially repaired, and the windows boarded up. The massive Deathclaw hide was stretched on the old playground climbing dome, along with a dozen or so mole rat skins. Mama Murphy was sitting in a rocking chair in the carport of the house just before Nate’s, sewing patches on something. Jun and Marcy were in the front yard, planting what looked like large bushes or small trees. They looked up and waved as Nate approached.
“Welcome home,” Marcy called. “We could stand around awkwardly for a while, but all of us see you don’t have your son with you. Is the news bad, or terrible?”
Jun winced; Nate sighed and nodded. “Just bad.” He went on to explain about meeting Piper and Nick, and what he’d learned. “So, Mr. Valentine’s trying to track down Kellogg, and there isn’t much I can do for now. So, I brought a radio back, and when he finds something, he’ll call me. Until then, it looks like there’s a lot of work to do around here.” He glanced at the little trees. “What are you planting?”
“That’s right, you didn’t have these before the War,” Jun said. “They’re called mutfruit, a pretty common crop around here. The farm-grown ones are nice and sweet, but we found these growing wild, so they’ll probably be sour.”
Marcy chuckled. “Still plenty nutritious, though, and they’ll make good preserves. Some still had fruit hanging, and they’ll produce more come next summer. There are clumps all over the woods, so we should be able to get a proper orchard going.”
Nate folded his arms. “I’m guessing this and the pumpkins aren’t going to see us through the winter. Trudy told me we have some neighbors running a farm a few miles from here, the Abernathy family. I’m going to take a little break, then head over there. I want to see what price they’ll give us for food, or if they’ll trade produce for meat once Jun starts hunting.”
“I’ll come along when you go,” Preston said. “Sturges, why don’t you have a look at the radio? Let us know how best to set it up.”
Nate left Sturges with the electronics and headed into his house. Codsworth had cleaned and furnished the house as best he could, using salvage from the Vault and other houses on the street. The dining room now had a table and chairs, and the couch had been replaced with a loveseat in better shape, along with a pair of armchairs. The cushions from the old couch were on the floor in the corner, and Dogmeat ran over to lie down. A small woodstove meant Nate could sleep in the bedroom and still stay warm overnight. But the nicest surprise was in Shaun’s old bedroom: The crib was filled with plastic toys, wood blocks, and a stuffed Jangles the Moon Monkey. Nate felt a lump in his throat.
“We’re all pulling for you, you know.” Mama Murphy stood at the end of the hallway, a bundle in her arms. “We’ve lost so much since Quincy… all of us know what you’re going through.” She stepped up to Nate and handed him the bundle-a colorful patchwork quilt. “I had been sewing this for Jun and Marcy’s little one, but… I hope your boy will be able to use it.”
Nate couldn’t speak, he just squeezed Mama’s shoulder. He set the quilt down in the crib, then heaved a sigh. “Thank you, Mama. It means a lot, to know there are people who care.”
Mama looked up at Nate. “I don’t know the future, Nathan Connolly, but I do know this: You might be in the wrong time, but you’re the right man. Jun and Marcy can’t have the life they wanted, but thanks to you, they can build a new one here. And you can, too.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “Get some rest. I’ll have lunch ready in a few hours.” Mama turned and left the house, and Nate went to his room and was asleep before he hit the pillow.
Four hours’ sleep and a meal later, and Nate was feeling much better. In the early afternoon, he and Preston headed out across the bridge, then turned off the road and headed towards the old electrical right-of way. Coming over a low ridge, they saw the farmstead. The house itself used the steel transmission tower as a frame, with walls made of scrap lumber and corrugated metal. There was a small pen with what looked like a cow with two heads-Preston called it a brahmin-and a rickety fence surrounding garden plots all around the building. There were three people tending the crops in the front yard, a middle-aged couple, and a girl of about sixteen. Nate called a greeting and they looked up; the women hurried into the house while the man stepped forward, flipping his coat back to show the pipe pistol in his belt.
“What’s your business here, stranger?” The man was in his forties, tall and thin, with auburn hair and a heavy beard. He laid a hand on his pistol’s grip, but didn’t draw it. “We’re a peaceful farm, don’t want any trouble.”
Nate smiled reassuringly. “Not to worry, we’re not looking for a fight.” He approached slowly, hands in the open. “We’re settling nearby, and we need supplies. Trudy, at the Drumlin, told us you might be willing to trade.”
The man relaxed and nodded. “Can’t be too careful.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “It’s all right!”
“Are you sure, Daddy?” The voice came from above; Nate looked up to see the girl kneeling on the roof, aiming a small rifle.
“Trudy sent them,” the man replied, and the girl headed down into the building. He turned back to Nate and beckoned. “Come inside, let’s talk.”
Nate and Preston followed the man into the house. Most of the inside was a large common room, with a dining table and chairs in the middle, and a galley-style kitchen along the right-hand wall. Doorways in the side and rear led to what Nate guessed were either bedrooms or storage, and a ramp led up to the roof. Light came from a pair of oil-burning lanterns. Nate unslung his shotgun and leaned it against the wall by the door; Preston did the same with his musket, then took off his hat and tucked it under his arm.
The man turned. “Welcome! I’m Blake Abernathy.” A woman came out of one of the back rooms lugging another chair; she had dirty blonde hair and a weather-beaten face, and wore a faded green mechanic jumpsuit. “This is my wife, Connie. She’s the one to talk to if you want to trade.”
Nate shook hands. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Nate Connolly, and this is Preston Garvey.”
The girl came down the ramp, carrying what looked to be a lever-action .22, the same sort Nate had used at Scout camp. Blake rolled his eyes. “The little sniper is my daughter, Lucy.” He crossed his arms. “I told you to get in the house, not grab your gun! What were you going to do with that little thing if they had been raiders?”
Lucy smiled thinly. “Shoot them in the throat, that’s what.” She cleared the rifle and set it on a pair of hooks on the wall. “Can I get you folks something to drink? Water, melon juice?”
“No, thank you,” Nate replied. He grinned at Connie. “You trained her pretty well.”
“Nah, I’m just friendly when we have guests.” She smirked and sat down on the base of the ramp. “I’ll go back to being nothing but trouble as soon as you leave.”
Connie groaned, then waved them over to the table. Everyone sat down, and she leaned forward. “Right, then. Let’s start with what you’re looking to buy.”
They spoke for about ten minutes. It turned out the Abernathy family didn’t need meat-Lucy brought in plenty of small game. What they did need was tools and scrap to maintain their farmstead, along with glue and leather that Jun and Marcy could make from the animals he hunted. They hashed out a deal, and Connie said she could have the food packed and ready by the next morning.
Blake laid his hands on the table. “So, you said you’re settling nearby. Where, exactly? Not much out here close enough to drop by.”
Nate hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re up in Sanctuary, by the pond. We’re repairing some of the houses there.”
Lucy gasped, Blake’s eyes went wide, and Connie actually came out of her chair. “You can’t stay there, it’s not safe!”
Preston frowned. “What’s dangerous around there?”
Blake set his jaw. “There’s a pack of Jared’s raiders just north of there, in the woods across the pond. Jared’s been getting more aggressive lately; if you’re that close, it’s only a matter of time before they attack you. Last time they hit here, Connie and I were out foraging, and my daughter Mary tried standing up to them.” He shook his head. “Now she’s buried out back of the house.”
Nate and Preston looked at each other. Nate nodded, and Preston turned back to Blake. “Where are they, exactly?”
“There’s a military bunker under an old satellite dish,” Connie said. “They’re holed up in there when they aren’t out attacking settlements.” She cocked her head. “You aren’t thinking of going after them, are you?”
“We don’t have much choice,” Preston said. “If we run, we’d have to leave most of our supplies behind; we wouldn’t make it through the winter.” He smiled at Nate. “But we did all right in Concord.”
Blake sucked in a breath. “We heard that someone gave the raiders a beating last week. That was you? You killed Gristle?”
“Technically the Deathclaw did that,” Nate chuckled. “I did kill the Deathclaw, though.”
Connie glowered. “Those bastards have been extorting us for years, and now they killed our daughter. You clear them out, we’ll make sure you’re stocked for the winter.”
Preston crossed his arms. “We’re not killing people for pay; that’s not what the Minutemen stand for. We fight to protect ourselves, and if that helps you out too, that’s even better. We’ll be happy to trade for your produce, thank you.”
Nate stood. “We should get back, Preston. If we’re going to be in a fight, we need to figure out what we’re up against, and what we have to work with.” He smiled at the three Abernathys. “It’s been nice meeting you all. Hopefully, we can have you over for dinner sometime.”
Lucy stood. “I’m coming with you.”
“You most certainly are not!” Connie glared at her daughter.
Lucy put her hands on her hips. “We’ve just met these folks. You want them to take on raiders for us, and we don’t help out?”
Blake flinched, then nodded. “I’ll go. You two watch the farm.” Lucy opened her mouth and he cut her off. “We’ve lost Mary already; you will stay here where it’s safe.”
“It’s not safe here!” Lucy snapped back. “Last time, they weren’t after our crops. They were here for Mary and me.” She wiped away a tear. “Mary told me to hide while she fought, and I did. Not again. You watch the farm; I’m a better shot than you anyway.”
Connie reached out and squeezed Blake’s hand, then got up to hug Lucy tight. “Be careful.”
Nate cleared his throat. “You haven’t asked if we want you with us.” Lucy’s mouth fell open and she looked at him quizzically; Nate locked eyes with her. “You’re brave enough, and if you’re as good a shot as you say, we could use the help. But when two unknown, armed men came walking up to your house… you didn’t do as you were told. We only won that skirmish in Concord because everyone worked as a team and stuck to the plan. If you decide to do your own thing in the middle of a gunfight, you could get yourself killed, or someone else who was depending on you. If you’re coming along, you’re going to follow orders. Do I make myself clear?”
Lucy blinked, then nodded. “Yessir.”
Connie laughed. “How come she does what he says?”
Blake grinned as well, then grew serious. “Is there anything else you need? Bandages, clothes? We don’t have much, but we want to help if we can.”
“I think you’ve let us borrow enough already.” Preston smiled at Lucy. “Grab whatever you need for a few days. Leave that popgun behind, though; we’ll get you something with a little more punch.”
Lucy stepped through a side door into her bedroom. Connie and Blake just sat quietly, holding hands. Lucy came back out, returning a short while later with a small knapsack, hugged her parents, and headed for the door. Preston and Nate thanked the Abernathys again, then followed her outside. Lucy was behind the house, standing by a grave in the corner of the farmstead. Nate glanced at Preston, and the two waited quietly for her to finish. After a few moments, Lucy turned and walked back to join them. Nate gave her a small smile and nod. She nodded back, and the trio started across the fields towards Sanctuary.
Notes:
I have one more chapter written after this, at which point my posting rate is gonna drop. I'm bouncing back and forth between this and my Dragon Age fic, switching off whenever I get writer's block. But I have this fic plotted out to the end, and the larger series generally outlined.
Chapter 9: Observe and Report
Summary:
Nate and the Sanctuary settlers scout the raider outpost before their assault, but there are dangers other than raiders in the area...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“So, what’s the plan?” Lucy jogged alongside Nate and Preston-her legs were a lot shorter than theirs. “When are we gonna hit them?”
Nate looked at Preston, who rolled his eyes. “First, I’m going to sort out our weapons and ammo. Then we’ll scout the enemy position, see if we even have a chance of taking them.”
Lucy frowned. “It sounded like you really thrashed Gristle and his guys. The rumor is two hundred raiders got killed, but rumors are always exaggerated, so I’m guessing it was more like a couple dozen, right?”
Preston shook his head. “You’re about right on the numbers, but the situation is very different.”
“We were able to salvage Power Armor and a minigun from an old Vertibird,” Nate explained. “We drove the attack off, but the Deathclaw destroyed almost all of my armor’s plating and I used up all of the ammo we had for the minigun.”
“We sold it off, along with most of the raider weapons we salvaged from Concord,” Preston chimed in. “We have enough to arm everyone in Sanctuary, and if we can’t shoot the thing, we were better off with the caps.”
Nate nodded. “Just as important, we were on the defense. We got in a good position, and the enemy had to come to us. It’s an old rule of thumb that an attacker needs at least a 3-to-1 advantage to have a chance to win, and they can still expect to take heavy losses. And for this fight, we’ll be the attackers, and we’ll likely be outnumbered.”
Lucy was visibly shaken by Nate’s assessment; she walked quietly for a few moments. “How do we win this?”
“There’s more to an advantage than just numbers,” Nate said. “A proper plan goes a long way, for one; the raiders at Concord had barely any organization and even less discipline. I doubt they’re expecting an attack, so we might surprise them.”
The rest of the Sanctuary settlers were every bit as unhappy as Nate to learn that there were raiders nearby. Marcy was aggressively in favor of fighting; Jun and Sturges were less enthusiastic, but agreed they couldn’t run any more. Nate sent Jun and Marcy to help Lucy set up a bed in Mama’s house and told them to join him when they were done. Nate, Preston, and Sturges headed back to the Red Rocket to have a look at their stock of weapons.
“This is what we got,” Sturges said. The motor hummed as the door rose into the ceiling, revealing a few guns laid out on a table next to the workbench, which held several wooden rifle stocks and numerous other parts for pipe weapons. “This time, at least, we don’t need to worry about ammo. The laser muskets and shotguns, I can’t really do anything with, so I’ve been working on the pipe guns. Come have a look.”
“How’d you make the stocks?” Nate asked. “I don’t see a lathe…”
Preston grinned. “He didn’t! They’re from the Museum-the mannequin soldiers’ muskets.” He pointed to the wall, where a Revolutionary-era officer’s sword hung in a scabbard. “We brought that back, too. Be useful in close quarters.”
Sturges pointed to a long-barreled pipe rifle with a musket stock, aperture sights, and a crude suppressor. “I found that on one of the raider sharpshooters, and Jun asked me to fix it up for him. Don’t want to take one mole rat but scare off the rest of the nest, after all. We also found more large magazines which fit the machine gun I took off Gristle. It’s not the minigun, of course, but it’ll cause some trouble.” He put his hands on his hips. “That’s what I have so far. Preston and I thought we needed caps more than extra weapons, so I sold off the rest. We still have all that .308, and I was hoping to buy a rifle that could shoot it, but there hasn’t been a weapons trader passing through.”
Nate folded his arms. “This’ll be enough for a raid. There’s also a few other things I’d like you to make.” He explained for a few minutes. “The first project needs to be ready before you go to bed tonight, the other by tomorrow afternoon. Can you handle it?”
“I’ll need some extra hands, but Codsworth has three,” Sturges said.
“Right.” Nate. “The others will be here soon; I’ll give everyone instructions for this evening, and then you should get started.”
It was only a few minutes before the rest of the settlers arrived, bringing Lucy Abernathy with them. The first thing Nate did was reassign weapons. Lucy got the double-barreled shotgun Marcy had kept from the fight at the Museum. Marcy got Nate’s pump-action, and Nate took the spare laser musket. Next, they gathered in the front of the Red Rocket, standing around the counter. Nate unfolded an old tourist map of the Concord area.
“So, before we can plan an attack, we need more information on the enemy.” Nate set a hex bolt down on a spot in the forest northeast of Sanctuary. “According to the Abernathys, the raiders are set up at the old Air Force satellite station, here. The mission for this evening is reconnaissance of that position. We go with two teams of two each.” He set some nails down, forming arrows. “Preston, Lucy, you’ll head north from the Vault elevator and approach the station from the west; Jun and I will head east from here and approach from the south. Stay hidden, move slowly and carefully, don’t get too close, just someplace that you can observe the enemy.” He handed Preston a notepad and pencil. “Mark down the number of people you see, how they’re armed, and any guard positions or patrol routes if you can tell. Also, sketch out a basic layout of the area, especially any good concealment or cover within gun range of the building.” He glanced around the group. “Sturges, you’ve got your project with Codsworth, so that leaves Marcy standing watch.” He took a breath. “Are there any questions?”
Jun leaned forward. “Why not go at night when they can’t see us?”
“Because we can’t see either, Jun, we’d bump into things.” Marcy rolled her eyes. “He’s got ridiculous night vision, does a lot of his hunting after dark. The last time I went with him on a night hunt, I damned near fell in the Quincy quarry.”
Sturges laughed. “Well, there’s a quarry not too far from here, so you’d better go when everyone can see.”
“What happens if the raiders spot us?” Preston asked.
Nate stroked his chin. “The best case scenario, of course, is to avoid being seen altogether. If they do see us, we don’t want to make them suspicious. So, we’re out hunting and gathering, get it? Just walking in the woods, looking for game, edible plants, that kind of thing. If they challenge you… try not to provoke a fight, but get out of there fast.”
“That’s all I had,” Preston said. He looked around the table. “Anyone else have an issue?”
“Are you sure about going after them?” The question, surprisingly, came from Lucy. “This is starting to sound like biting off more than we can chew. If one of the teams runs into a group of them, two people aren’t going to have much of a chance.” She shifted uncomfortably. “You said the defender has advantages in a fight… Why not set up here, maybe barricade one or two houses?”
“Not enough people, or enough time,” Preston replied. “These houses are thin metal and insulation, not stone and brick like the Museum. No cover against bullets. And there, we had to cover one main door and that was it. The river’s only knee-deep in most places, so they can come from any side. We don’t have the numbers to cover the whole settlement, it’s too long a perimeter and we’d be spread too thin.”
Nate nodded agreement. “We probably have the time to dig a few fighting holes, but I don’t think that helps us. The downside of defense is the enemy gets to decide when to attack. We can’t all be on guard around the clock, so it’ll be at most one or two people ready when they come. And if they decide we’re too well defended, they can send to Jared for more men.”
“Yup, I think we’re stuck for it.” Sturges folded his arms. “I’m willing to take the soldiers’ word on it that this is our best option.”
Marcy pursed her lips. “Well, it’s about time for you to get ready.” She smiled slightly. “We’ll have a hot meal ready when you get back. Take care of Jun for me, Nate.”
The next hour was spent getting a quick snack-Nate was beyond grateful for the instant coffee in the cellar-and prepping for the recon. Nate went looking for something a little less visible than a Vault suit and found himself a pair of dark cargo pants and a grey T-shirt. Preston’s duster was a little light, but when he kept still, he looked awfully like a rock. Lucy had the only actual camouflage in their group-a turkey hunting vest. Jun came out in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt in black, dark green, and navy blue. They wished each other good luck, then split up, heading into the woods.
This guy is damned good. Nate was following Jun Long through the trees on the south shore of the lake, and he was impressed. Jun was moving across ground scattered with dry leaves, brush, and twigs-and he wasn’t making any noise. Both men had their weapons slung; Jun steadied his long rifle with one hand, and used the other to bend aside bushes so they didn’t rustle. His woodcraft was excellent, and Nate was happy with letting Jun lead, while he watched the flanks. They moved along a low rise just above the lake shore, pausing occasionally to scan the area with binoculars and take notes on his Pip-boy. There was a high ridge across the water to the north, a rocky bluff falling steeply to the water’s edge. He’d seen some old trash heaps, and clumps of what looked like wild corn. We should do some scavenging out this way. Might be useful scrap in those dumps… And we always need more food.
Jun clicked his tongue softly. Nate stopped and took a knee. Jun pointed; Nate followed his arm and spotted a light through the trees to the northeast. He waved Jun down, then dropped prone next to a large bush and raised his binoculars. There was a campfire at the edge of the woods, near where a dirt road climbed the bluff above the lake. It certainly looked like raiders; Nate counted at least three. He swept his binoculars over the larger area and his blood ran cold.
“Jun, stay very still.” The hunter froze and Nate trained his binoculars on the bluff. “There’s something up on that ridge under camouflage netting. If we’re lucky, it’s just an observation post. If we’re unlucky, there’s a machine gun in there.” He examined the position carefully, then grinned. “We’re real lucky. There’s a lookout up there, but he’s got no binoculars or telescope. We can probably get a little closer for a better look; just keep low.”
They crouched, moving a step or two at a time. After about an hour, they had gotten within a few hundred yards of the raider positions. With the lookout up there, getting any closer was impossible without being spotted. Nate marked the campfire and observation post on his Pip-boy map, along with a few landmarks and cover positions. There was no way to scout any further, and the sun was beginning to set; Nate backed away, then started back towards home.
They were about two miles from the Red Rocket when Jun clicked his tongue again. Nate took a knee, looking around for the threat. He spotted them fairly quickly: four raiders, moving through the woods toward the satellite station. He motioned to Jun, and they headed down the slope towards the lake shore, down where the hostiles would have a harder time seeing them. Nate headed for a large mossy rock at the water’s edge that he could use for cover in case they were spotted.
“Nate, Nate, get away from that,” Jun said urgently.
Nate turned. “What?”
The ‘rock’ burst out of the ground, showering Nate with water and small stones. He scrambled backward as another monstrosity climbed out of the mud. It was about six feet tall and crablike, scuttling on four legs. There was no time to unsling the laser; Nate drew his pistol and fired three rounds into the thing’s upper “chest.” It barely flinched, lowered its head, and advanced, snapping at him with a pair of huge pincers.
“Aim for the face!” Jun called. He took aim and fired twice; both shots struck slightly high, and didn’t penetrate its thick plates.
Nate fired the rest of his magazine. He landed two solid hits, and the thing staggered, but kept coming. Jun fired again, putting shot after shot into the creature’s eyes and mouth. His ammo ran out, but the beast keeled over, legs still twitching.
“What the hell are you doing?” Two raiders were standing at the top of the ridge, looking down at them with guns in hand; the other two were further back, covering them from the trees.
Nate was intensely aware that both he and Jun were holding empty guns. Fortunately, he wasn’t wearing a Vault suit, and in the dim light, they couldn’t see his Pip-boy. Jun indicated the dead creature. “We’re out hunting, sir, trying to get some meat in before winter.”
The raider nodded. “Well, that is a fair-sized Mirelurk you brought down, but you can’t be hunting. See, Ack-Ack runs this territory for Jared in Lexington, and you haven’t gotten permission to hunt here.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Nate tried to keep his voice even. “We’re new to the area, and don’t know who else’s out here. We aren’t trying to cheat anyone.”
“I don’t see the need for trouble,” the raider said coolly. “Far as I’m concerned, you weren’t hunting, just passing through, and the Lurk attacked you. We can’t fault a man for defending himself, after all.” He smirked. “But if you weren’t hunting, you’ve got no need for that dead Lurk. Just leave it and head on home… and be careful, these are dangerous woods, especially at night.”
Nate nodded, slowly holstering his pistol. He and Jun headed back the way they had come, feeling the raiders’ eyes on them for at least a mile. He didn’t relax until they reached the gas station.
Sturges was waiting, holding his machine gun. “I heard the shooting. Either of you hurt? What happened?”
“It’s my fault,” Jun said. “I forgot that Nate doesn’t know what to look out for. He thought a Mirelurk was a rock and tried to hide behind it. We killed the thing, but a raider patrol spotted us and we had to bluff our way out.”
Sturges clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “At least you’re all right.”
“Well, that was a fiasco,” Nate growled, moving to the workbench. “Any news from the others?”
“They’re not back yet, but that area’s been quiet,” Sturges said. “Marcy’s up on a roof watching for them.”
Nate started to field-strip his pistol. “She’s probably worried sick. Jun, head over there and let her know you’re all right.”
Jun headed back to Sanctuary; Nate cleaned his 1911, then Sturges showed him how to do the same with the musket. It wasn’t much work, and by the time he was done, Jun and Marcy were returning, with Lucy and Preston following behind.
“Thanks for making all that noise,” Lucy said smugly, as Preston shook his head. “Raiders were all looking the other way, and we were able to get a real good look.”
Preston handed over his notes and grinned. “They have a lookout on the satellite dish, but no one patrolling the woods north of the lake. I think they’re mostly watching the settlements and roads around Concord and aren’t worried about what’s to their west. This is the edge of the Commonwealth, after all.”
Nate smiled. “Makes sense; the raiders we ran across were watching the road up the hill there. Looks like that’s their front door. You think we can get in the back?”
“I do,” Preston said, folding his arms. “They have the one watching the west, but he didn’t have binoculars or a scope, just like the lookout you saw. Woods are heavier, so we’ll have some concealment.”
Lucy looked like she wanted to say something; Nate nodded to her to go ahead. She did, though nervously. “If we come from the west, move in the afternoon, and hit them around five…”
Nate grinned. “The setting sun will be in their eyes. It’s an old trick, but it works all the same.” He crossed his arms. “My first thought had been spending all of tomorrow training, and then attacking them from the east at dawn, for exactly that reason. But the east is their strong side, they know we’re around, and they might be planning to hit us already. So. We’ll spend the morning getting ready, then hit them tomorrow at sunset. Get dinner, then get right to sleep. I’ll have a plan put together when you wake up.”
When everyone gathered at the old Rosa house, now Preston’s home, they found Nate and Preston already awake and waiting for them. Sturges’ first project stood in the center of the living/dining room: a sand table fashioned from scrap lumber. Nate had copied his Pip-Boy map into Codsworth’s memory banks, and the robot had sculpted a near-perfect model of the terrain around their target out of sand, clay, and gravel, with buildings made of tin cans and aluminum canisters. Nate had scrounged up an incomplete chess set, and he had the pieces in a box. The settlers-now his soldiers-gathered around the table, looking at him expectantly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“All right.” Nate looked from one face to the next. “Before the plan, comes organization. We will be fighting in pairs, and every pair has a role.” He pulled a white bishop out of the box and set it at the edge of the table. “Preston and Jun, you two are our reconnaissance element. You will be in the lead when we travel to the target; Jun, you’ll walk point, the way you did with me last night. Once we get into combat, Preston will act as a sharpshooter, and Jun will be his spotter.” Jun and Preston nodded, and Nate moved on. “Sturges, Lucy, you’re the fire support element.” A white rook went down next to the bishop. “You two and will bring up the rear on our march. Sturges, you will lay suppressing fire on the enemy, covering our advance. Lucy, your job is to carry extra ammunition for the machine gun, protect Sturges when he reloads, and breach any locked doors we run across.” Nate laid a white knight next to the other two pieces. “Marcy, you and I are the assault element. We will be in the center both on the march and in the fight. Once the enemy is sufficiently suppressed, we will advance and destroy them. You will cover me and take care of anyone who is wounded. Now. The plan.”
Everyone leaned a little closer to the table as Nate pointed to the buildings at the center of the model. “I actually know a little about Satellite Station Olivia; it was one of the facilities my recruits might have been called to defend in an emergency. Main building is a small concrete blockhouse which connects to a bunker below ground, though I don’t know the layout. There’s also a maintenance shed on the satellite dish, and the raiders have built a shack beneath it. First, the bad news. We don’t have a solid idea how many raiders are inside. I am assuming that it’s at most the same size force as we had to fight off at Concord, but hopefully smaller.” He set down a black bishop on top of the taller building, and another slightly southeast, along the rocky bluff, along with a few black pawns at the shack and main building. “Recon spotted two lookouts, one in the maintenance shed, and the other in an observation post. Could be other raiders in the buildings on the surface, but we don’t know. There was also a patrol in the forest on the east shore of the lake.” He placed a rook and knight in the appropriate position. “Now, the good news. Only the first lookout seems to be watching the west side. That’s a mistake, and we’re going to make the raiders pay for it.” He moved the white pieces representing his three teams to the west of the objective. “We will approach along the route that Preston and Lucy scouted last night.” Assault and support teams will set up here, just off the road. There’s some trees and rocks that should provide some protection. From here, we have eyes on the south side of the building, the back of the observation post, and the road leading southeast, but we can’t cover the door to the main building. So the recon team will split off and circle around to the north. Find a spot where you have a shot on the door, the maintenance shed, and the shack. When you’re in position and ready, indicate it with hand signals. I will acknowledge, and signal back when you are weapons-free.”
Nate tapped the recon team’s bishop. “Once all teams are set, we’ll start the attack. At my signal, Jun and Preston will pick off the lookout in the maintenance shed. That’s the most dangerous enemy to us, since he’s in an elevated position.” He tipped over the northern black bishop. “If you can get close enough, Jun should take them with his suppressed rifle. If not, Preston will have to do it, though the laser will probably alert the outpost. Now, there are two ways this could go. If they can drop the lookout quietly, you two can move in, clear the shack, and be in place to engage anyone coming out of the main building. Then we’ll advance and clear the observation post, then move on the main building, leaving Preston and Jun to cover our backs in case the patrol returns.” He put his hands on his hips. “If the outpost is alerted, that’s where the other teams come in. Raiders may be coming out of the main building, and the patrol will be heading for us, along with anyone in the observation post. But they’ll be running into an L-shaped ambush, with the assault and support teams to their front and the recon team on their flank.” He moved the black rook, knight, and bishop to the southern corner of the main building, then tipped them over, along with the pawns. “Once the entrance is secure, we’ll breach the main building. I obviously cannot give you any specifics, but the assault and support teams will handle the clearing. If the raider patrol isn’t accounted for, the recon team will hold the entrance; if we’ve dealt with them, Preston and Jun will follow us in and cover the rear.” He stood straight. “Are there any questions?”
“Why aren’t we bringing Codsworth and Dogmeat?” Sturges asked.
“Because they can only fight at hand-to-hand range,” Nate replied. “They can’t attack the enemy without getting into our line of fire. Also, I don’t want to leave Mama Murphy unguarded.”
“What do we do if someone gets hurt?” Jun asked.
Nate nodded. “Their partner calls for help. It depends on exactly what’s happened. If you get hit, get yourself to cover if you can.” He met each of his troops’ eyes in turn. “If someone goes down out of cover, do not try to reach them until we’ve driven the enemy back. You’re more likely to get hit trying, I’ve seen it happen.” He turned to Marcy. “You’re our rescuer for this mission. Anyone is hit, you pull them out and patch them up, but only when I say it’s safe. If I go down, Preston’s in charge. If we’re both hit, you’re in charge-but at that point, the mission is a failure, and your only job is to get the others to safety. Grab Codsworth and Mama Murphy and get out of Sanctuary with as much as you can carry.”
Marcy nodded, clearly nervous. Nate checked to see if anyone else had questions, but no one did. “All right. Everyone, unload your weapons. We don’t have much time for training, but I’m going to put you through some basic battle drills over the next few hours. After that, we’ll eat lunch and rest, then move out around 4:30. Let’s get to it.”
Notes:
Hey, folks! This is the last chapter I had written before I started posting. I'm currently finishing a post for my Dragon Age fic, and after that I'll start on the next chapter for this. The fic is completely outlined, and runs through the end of Act I of the game.
Chapter 10: Fire and Maneuver
Summary:
Nate and his impromptu squad make their assault on Satellite Station Olivia. But how will his scarcely-trained settlers handle a crew of bloodthirsty raiders?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Nate’s eyes popped open as soon as his Pip-boy alarm went off. His ad-hoc squad had spent about three hours practicing basic infantry skills. They’d stopped for lunch, then he’d sent everyone to rest. After three combat tours, he could fall asleep easily any time he had the opportunity. He hoped the others had been able to nap, but he expected they might have been too nervous. He splashed some water on his face from a jug next to the sink. He put on the same cargo pants and T-shirt he’d used on the scouting mission, then added the hunting jacket-nights were cold, and the brown would blend in nicely with the dirt and leaves in the forest. Before stepping outside, he reached into his shirt, grasped the cross on his dog tags, and said a quick prayer. His laser musket was leaning against the wall next to the door frame.
The others were a few minutes behind him gathering at Preston’s house. Nate looked from one face to the next. No one was wavering, not even Lucy. “All right, everyone. Does anyone have any questions or concerns before we move out? Everyone know your teams and roles?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Gear up and load your weapons. And I’ve got one more thing for you.” He pulled out a handful of fabric from his pocket. His Vault suit was a torn and bloody mess after his fights in Concord and Vault 114. Seeing as they’d retrieved dozens more from Vault 111, he’d sliced the suit into strips; he gave everyone one to tie around their right arm. “This will help us tell friend from foe if things get confusing. But stay close to your partner and try to make sure you know where the others are. Let’s get to work. Jun, you’re on point.”
They crossed the footbridge behind town and walked north, paralleling the shore of the pond. Jun picked his way carefully through the woods with Preston about trailing five yards behind. The others moved in a loose line about twenty yards further back. Marcy watched their left, Sturges the right, with Lucy turning to check behind them every minute or two. Nate tried to keep an eye on everything, but mostly, he watched Jun’s body language. Several gigantic insects perched or hovered in the trees as they passed, but Jun dropped any that got too close with his suppressed weapon. The ground rose as they moved north, and the sun dipped low. They took it slow, half an hour to cover a mile. At the end of that mile was the rally point, a small junkyard with a small cinderblock building in one corner. Nate waved everyone inside.
“All right, people, hold up here,” Nate said. “Preston and I are going to take one last peek at the station before we move in. The rest of you, take five. Everyone’s nervous, and that’s okay. If your mouth is dry, get a drink. If you need to pee, go behind one of those cars over there.”
Lucy immediately headed for the cars; Nate chuckled and tapped Preston on the shoulder. “Let’s get a look. Up here, gimme a boost.”
Preston knelt and interlaced his fingers. Nate put one foot in Preston’s hands, then stepped on his shoulder as Preston heaved. Nate pulled himself onto the building’s flat roof, then reached down to help Preston up. They dropped prone and crawled to the far edge, where they could get a good view of the objective.
Nate pointed to the landscape between them and the station. “So, once we move out, you and Jun will move around the left, there, keeping below the brush. The rest of us will set up around that rocky outcrop and wait for you to get into position.”
“I understand,” Preston said, nodding. “Let’s see how many of them we can spot.”
Preston scanned the area with his musket scope, and Nate raised his binoculars.
“Got one, catwalk by the maintenance shed under the dish,” Preston said. “He’s got a long gun slung on his back, can’t tell what kind exactly.”
“We were expecting that one,” Nate said, focusing in on the raider sentry. He smiled. “Just like the guy in the observation post last night, no optic. And he’s got his hand up to block the sun, clever Lucy.” He looked down to the wooden shack on the ground beneath the shed. “I think there’s someone moving in there, too.”
Preston eyed the shack. “Could be. I’ll keep an eye on it while Jun is on the lookout up top.”
Nate swept his binoculars to the right. “Can’t see the door to the bunker, it’s on the far side of the building. But assume more raiders will come out of there.”
As he said it, a raider emerged from behind the bunker, heading across the road towards the bluffs. He had no gun, just a machete stuck in his belt. He stopped at a gap in the rocks and another raider appeared.
“That must be the entrance to the observation post,” Preston said. “Lucy and I didn’t see any sign of it when we came before, but we didn’t know it was there, we were looking at the station itself. Yeah, I can see it now, there’s a shelter built out of branches and covered with netting.”
The two raiders had a conversation; Nate and Preston couldn’t hear what was said, but they could watch the body language. The raider from the bunker pointed past the lookout in the direction of Sanctuary. The lookout folded her arms and shook her head. The first raider nodded, pointed to his eyes, then held out a small white box. The lookout grinned, took something from the box, and popped it into her mouth.
Nate ground his teeth. “Mentats. Just the thing to keep your sentries alert and squad leaders thinking fast… until they can’t think at all without it.”
“Pretty typical for raiders,” Preston said. “They’ll use any chem or booze they can get their hands on, and if they can’t scavenge, steal, or buy enough, they’ll mix it themselves. It makes them unpredictable; sometimes they’re on Jet and Psycho and act like rabid dogs, other times a whole gang will be stumbling drunk and not even notice you walking by. The worst is raiders on Med-X. They get shot and don’t feel it, so they keep coming when any normal person would be on the ground screaming.”
“Towards the end of the war, I started to see troops like that,” Nate said. “I always tried to keep my men from using too much, but a lot of officers weren’t so careful.” He lowered his goggles and marked the friendlies and known enemy on his HUD, then scanned the area more widely, looking north of the station and as far down the road as he could see. “I don’t spot anyone else, but we should assume that patrol is close enough to show up quick. Wish we had the minigun, or a few grenades.” He grunted and shook his head. “Or a reinforced platoon with mortar support, but we don’t have that either. Let’s get to it before the sun’s too low.”
Nate stayed on the roof with his musket at the ready, covering Jun and Preston as they moved off to the north. They reached a rocky outcrop about fifty yards away, and he dropped down where Marcy, Sturges, and Lucy were waiting. He tapped Marcy’s shoulder and pointed to a clump of trees. She nodded, and Nate set off at a quick walk with his musket at a low-ready, watching for trouble. He took a knee and brought his musket up while Marcy got into cover a few yards away. They provided overwatch while Sturges and Lucy moved up, and the two pairs leapfrogged their way through the trees and scrub next to the road. This was the really hairy part. Except for Nate and Preston’s lasers, the group’s weapons were only really effective inside of a hundred yards, and fifty would be better. To get in position to launch the attack, they had to move in about a half mile without getting spotted. The trees were casting long shadows as the sun slipped under the horizon. Nate looked back and forth between the various places he’d seen raiders, but other than the lookout, none were in sight. And the lookout was undisciplined, and clearly nervous. He was positioned to watch the woods to the north and west, but he kept glancing to the south, in the direction of Sanctuary. They reached the point where the road curved to pass by the station; Nate checked on the other group to find Preston looking back at him. He was behind a boulder, which hid him from anyone at ground level, but gave him a clear line of sight to the lookout. Preston took aim and signaled that he and Jun were ready. Nate formed his people into a skirmish line, with Marcy spread out to his left, Sturges on his right, and Lucy on Sturges’ other side. Everyone dropped prone; Marcy took cover behind a sturdy maple, Nate rested his laser on a fallen log, and Sturges and Lucy found some rocks. Everyone looked tense but nodded their readiness. Nate signaled “weapons free” to Preston, who motioned Jun to move closer to try and drop the lookout quietly. It was far enough that Nate could barely see Jun creeping forward even though he knew where to look. Jun got within thirty yards before he decided not to press his luck further and took aim at the lookout. Nate couldn’t see the flash and only heard the suppressed shots as a pair of distant pops. The lookout had been leaning on the catwalk railing; he jerked upright, then slumped to the metal grating.
And that was when things went wrong.
The lookout had dropped his gun when he was shot. It fell from the tower and went off when it hit the ground. The bang was followed by confused yelling and a moment later, a dog barking. An enormous, hairless mongrel burst out of the shack, sniffed the air, and charged. Jun fired frantically, missing several times before bringing the dog down with the last rounds in his magazine. As he reloaded, a raider came out of the shack and leveled a pipe revolver. He didn’t know exactly where Jun was, but he knew where the dog had gone, so he fired several shots in that general direction. His guess was good and Jun hunkered behind a rock as rounds flew past him. Preston hit the raider in the shoulder, but didn’t kill him; the wounded man scrambled backwards and hid behind the shack to reload.
Nate was watching the fight play out when he was startled by a louder, closer bark. A second dog was rushing at his group from the observation post, snarling and snapping. Two raiders came out of the post just as Sturges opened up. He dropped the dog with a short burst, then Nate killed one of the raiders before they could take cover. The other raider dove back into the observation post; a moment later there was a dull pop, followed by a red parachute flare bursting above the bluff. After the initial flurry of gunfire, there was a brief lull in the fighting, an eerie quiet punctuated by both sides taking the occasional potshot.
Damn it. Nate took a breath and considered the situation. We’ve lost the element of surprise, they’ve called for the patrol to return, and we aren’t in a position to ambush… yet. We might not have surprise, but for now, we’ve got numbers. Time to get back to basics. Nate waved to Sturges and pointed. “I want suppression fire on that raider! Keep her pinned.” He turned to Marcy. “Watch the side of the bunker, anyone shows around the corner, blast them. I’m gonna shoot across you, so don’t move forward.”
Marcy nodded and brought up her shotgun; Sturges was already peppering the entrance to the observation post with short bursts. Nate brought his musket around and fired a couple shots towards the raider facing Jun and Preston. He missed, but the raider realized he was in a crossfire and threw himself flat. Preston waved Jun forward, then fired as fast as he could crank his laser to cover him. Jun ran maybe ten yards, couldn’t find any cover, then dropped prone and fired at the shack to cover Preston’s move. Preston didn’t have time to reload his musket, so he slung it and charged in with the sword he’d taken from the museum. The raider tried to scramble to his feet but didn’t make it; Preston kicked him to the ground and ran him through. Nate grinned, took a shot at the observation post, then called for Marcy to move up. She found another clump of rocks just outside the rusty fence around the station. A raider popped out from behind the bunker, screaming and waving a machete. Marcy blasted him twice in the chest, and then bullets started cracking overhead. The raider patrol had arrived, but were expecting their enemy to be standing up, and their first shots missed. Sturges opened up with several long bursts, sweeping his gun from one target to the next. The patrol fired a few wild shots and fell back down the hill and out of the line of fire; the lookout sprinted out of the observation post and ran after them, firing blindly over her shoulder.
“Quick now, let’s get ready for them!” Nate huddled with his people and gave new instructions.
Preston and Jun were out of sight on the far side of the bunker and were on their own for the time being. Lucy stood guard while the other three hurriedly topped off their weapons and moved to new positions. It was less than two minutes before the raiders advanced back up the hill. There were nine of them, including the lookout. They opened fire, everyone aiming for the rocky outcrop where Sturges had fired from… which would have been bad if Sturges was still there. Per Nate’s orders, everyone held their fire, and so long as they didn’t give away their position, the raiders couldn’t spot them in the failing light. They lacked the training to send a scout or two ahead while the rest covered them. But much like at the museum, they were confident they had the numbers. The enemy advanced in a ragged line, firing as they came. Nate let them get within fifty yards, then he, Marcy, and Lucy fired two shots each. Three raiders fell dead, but the others all aimed for Nate’s laser flash. Nate got as low as he could behind a tree and quickly found himself pinned down. Sturges started shooting to take the heat off him while Lucy reloaded her double barrel.
One raider yelled in pain and fell dead, then a bright red beam turned another into a pile of glowing ashes. Jun was in solid cover at the far corner of the bunker; Preston had climbed the catwalk and was shooting down at the raiders from the maintenance shed. The raiders were caught in a crossfire from the flank and from elevation, and there was absolutely nowhere they could find cover. Nate saw his moment and told Marcy to advance. He fired his musket until it was empty, then slung it and moved up with his pistol. A pair of raiders turned to shoot at Preston and Sturges got them both. The last two raiders managed to scramble for cover in the trees beside the road.
Nate waved his hands overhead. “Cease fire!” He raised his voice to make sure everyone heard him. “Preston, Jun, keep the bunker door covered. You two down there, throw your guns onto the road, then come out with your hands up.”
“Go to hell!” Nate heard the telltale pop-hiss of a Jet inhaler. “Piece of shit dirt farmers, you think you can push us around? We’re gonna skin you alive and hang you from the fucking trees!”
The raiders charged out shooting. Marcy got one and Lucy got the other. There was complete silence for a few moments as everyone caught their breath.
Nate stood and holstered his pistol. “Good work, squad. Preston, anything happening over there?”
“There’s people yelling inside, but no one’s tried to come out,” Preston replied.
“Let’s not give them too much time to get ready,” Nate said. “You’ve got a minute to check ammo and get a drink of water, then we hit the building.”
Lucy opened her pack and started handing full magazines to Sturges, taking his empty drums in return. Preston had slung his musket and picked up a pipe revolver off a dead raider. Nate led the way to the bunker entrance and found it locked. They were in luck: the bunker was protected from blast effects, but not secured against an infantry attack. The door was the same sort of heavy-duty hollow steel type found on industrial buildings, with the hinges on the outside.
He motioned Marcy to stack up behind him, with Sturges and Lucy on the other side of the door. “Lucy, reload with slugs. You’re going to blow off the hinges and help me pull the door open. When I do, Sturges, you suppress them, then Marcy, you’ll go in with me right behind you, then Preston and Jun. Sturges and Lucy, reload and follow as quick as you can.”
Everyone nodded understanding. It took a moment or two for Lucy to switch the shells in her shotgun, then she brought it up, aimed at the upper hinge. Nate took a two-handed grip on the door and gave Lucy the go-ahead. She shot high, then low, and Nate heaved the door out of the way. Sturges leaned out and fired off a couple of long bursts. There was no return fire, just some frantic yelling from further in. Marcy moved down the stairway, shotgun at the ready. Nate followed a few steps behind, pistol aimed at the floor. Marcy stopped two steps above the floor and carefully looked around the corner, keeping as much of her body in cover as she could. Nate moved out from behind her and got his first look at the bunker proper.
It looked like just another secure reception area. There was a desk for a guard in the center of the concrete hallway, with a computer terminal and a scattering of old papers. There were two doors on the right side of the entryway, one open, one shut; the back of the room held a cross passage with a row of windows, through which Nate could see some sort of catwalk or scaffolding. There were a few battered filing cabinets against the right wall opposite the desk. Nate took cover behind them, and Jun and Preston leapfrogged past them. With no other cover available, they both crouched behind the desk, Preston watching the cross passage and Jun the open door to the right. They heard loud footsteps clanking on metal, so everyone was ready when raiders emerged from both sides of the cross passage. Two of them opened fire to force the attackers’ heads down, then three more charged with assorted hand-to-hand weapons. Nate waited for the onrushing raiders to step in front of the gunmen covering them, then he and Preston popped up and fired, with Jun and Marcy joining in a moment later. They killed all three melee raiders, but both shooters pulled back into cover. Sturges and Lucy came down the stairs; Nate directed them to pin down the left-side raider while Preston, Jun, and Marcy kept the one on the right busy. He dashed forward, cleared the open door, and ducked into what turned out to be a janitor’s closet. The doorway gave him cover and a good shooting angle against the raider on the left. He fired twice and the raider dropped. The last one turned and ran.
“Keep pressing forward!” Nate shouted.
He moved along the wall to check the closed door. It was an office, and the door was shut tight, with a deadbolt and a maglock. Nate felt a surge of excitement at the idea that it had been sealed since the bombs fell, but there was no time to deal with it. He slid along the right-side wall, pistol trained on the left side hallway; across from him, Preston did the same to cover the hall on the right. Jun called a warning and fired through the window, where a raider had appeared on the catwalk. Nate moved Sturges and Lucy forward to the windows. Sturges opened up at something down below, then stopped. Nate ran to the right edge of the window, where he could get a proper look at the situation. The window overlooked a large open space, with catwalks surrounding the machinery for aiming the dish. The floor below was full of desks, workstations, and computer banks, some of which were clearly being scrapped for parts, and a large archway and open door led into other rooms Nate couldn’t see. The right-side hallway led to a stairway down to the big room, and the catwalk had both stairs down to the floor and an upper-level door, which Nate suspected was accessed by the left-side passage. Nate could hear more excited voices further in; he ordered Lucy to cover the stairs on the right and Sturges, Jun, and Preston to maintain overwatch from the windows. He was leading Marcy around to the left when the raiders below started to chant.
“Ack-Ack! Ack-Ack! Ack-Ack!” The raiders repeated the words over and over. Nate blinked, confused, then remembered that the raider he’d met the night before had mentioned that, as the name of the raider leading this crew. It seemed he’d be meeting them in short order
“Ack-Ack! Ack-Ack!” More voices joined in, and the chant grew louder, along with assorted yells, whoops, and stamping feet.
The raiders kept whipping themselves into a frenzy. Nate tapped Marcy on the shoulder and led her down the left-side hallway. They passed a bathroom which was thankfully empty, then came to the door to the catwalk. Marcy flattened herself against one side of the doorway, and Nate took the other. Not a minute later, the raiders started to move. Several of them spread out into the lower room, shooting up at the windows. Preston, Jun and Sturges returned fire, killing one raider and wounding two. This drew another chant, followed by a fusillade of automatic gunfire. Ack-Ack strode out of the archway, with even more raiders behind her. She was wearing heavy metal armor from head to toe and hammering away with a big belt-fed machine gun. The raiders blazed away with pipe guns and shotguns, and the sheer volume of fire forced everyone’s heads down below the windows. Nate leaned out and took a shot with his musket, wounding a raider in the leg. He and Marcy were in a decent position on the raiders’ flank, but the catwalk limited the angles they could fire down into the room. Of course, it also had the same effect on the raiders below, and their return fire largely glanced off the grating or missed. Ack-Ack shouted and pointed; she and most of her raiders kept up the fire while a smaller group began climbing the catwalk. Nate and Marcy managed to kill one before falling back into the hallway.
Three raiders were at the base of the catwalk when they were surprised from the side. Lucy Abernathy had snuck down the stairs on the right and fired both barrels from the doorway before they knew she was there. She ducked back to reload, but the raiders heard her open the shotgun and rushed her. Lucy sprinted back up the stairs with four raiders hot on her heels. As soon as she reached the top, Sturges stepped out from behind the corner and fired his machine gun from the hip. The raiders were fish in a barrel; three were killed instantly and one dove back through the lower door and out of the line of fire. Lucy had reloaded her shotgun and now advanced back down the stairs, where she knelt beside the door. Sturges snapped in a fresh magazine and stood behind her. He popped out and fired, forcing the raiders to scramble for cover. Ack-Ack swung around to engage them, and the pair hunkered down. A handful of the enemy had made it up the catwalk and were headed for the door to the left-side hallway. However, the pressure was off Preston and Jun, who popped up to shoot from the windows, then crouched back down and moved to new positions. One raider was vaporized by laser fire, and another tried to dodge and fell off the catwalk, cracking his skull on the floor below. This freed Nate and Marcy to get back to the door. Nate put three shots into the last raider on the catwalk. Marcy got an angle on Ack-Ack and fired; the buckshot pinged off her armor with seemingly no effect. Marcy ejected the empty shell, loaded a slug, and tried again. This time Ack-Ack staggered and grunted, holding her ribs. Preston hit her with his laser, leaving a spot of red-hot metal. Ack-Ack screeched and ducked into cover behind a mainframe, then threw away her dented, smoking chest plate. Between the dead and wounded, there were fewer than half a dozen raiders still fighting; they started pulling back deeper into the bunker. The shooting trailed off as the raiders retreated. Nate yelled for Preston and Jun to join them on the left.
Preston stepped up beside Nate, reloading his musket. “What’s the plan now?”
Nate slung his musket and took a moment to top up his .45 magazines. “I don’t want to try crossing the catwalk, it’s too exposed. You two cover this side. Marcy and I are going around to the right with Sturges and Lucy. Once we’re set, you can come down and join us.”
Jun reached over and squeezed Marcy’s shoulder. She smiled, kissed his hand, and got up to follow Nate. They made their way around and down the stairs to find Lucy administering a stimpak to Sturges, who had an ugly-looking hole in his left thigh.
“You’re hurt?” Marcy asked.
“Yup, that last burst was closer than I thought,” Sturges chuckled. “It’s nothing serious.”
Nate covered his face with one hand. “Sturges, you’ve been shot. That’s always serious.”
Sturges shrugged. “It’s a through-and-through, I didn’t even feel it till Lucy saw I was bleeding. I’m good to go, just don’t ask me to do any running. Let’s get this done.”
Nate rubbed his chin while he thought, then nodded. “All right, then, you two are bringing up the rear. Lucy, give him your shotgun, and take this.” He passed her his laser musket, then took the machine gun from Sturges.
Lucy checked her vest and pack. “I still have most of my ammo. Marcy, could you use some?”
“If you have it to spare, sure,” Marcy said.
Lucy handed over a dozen shells, then gave the rest to Sturges. There was still only sporadic gunfire as both sides tried to pick each other off. Nate stepped to the doorway, brought up the machine gun, and triggered off a few short bursts. Marcy dashed past him, got behind a shipping container, and covered Nate as he bounded past her. He joined in shooting, and Marcy ran to a row of filing cabinets. That made space for Lucy to post up behind the container Marcy had left. She took careful aim and fired, dropping a raider who had peeked around a stack of crates. Ack-Ack and a couple others shot back, and someone threw a Molotov, but Sturges blew it out of the air with a well-placed shot. Burning fuel splashed across the floor, igniting scattered garbage. Jun and Preston took a few shots from above, missing but forcing the raiders’ heads down temporarily. The flames had spread to a wastebasket and a cardboard box full of documents. Marcy scrambled away from the cabinets as the files inside began to burn. Ack-Ack triggered off a burst but missed in the thickening smoke. Nate hurriedly suppressed the enemy while Marcy sprinted to a bin of machine parts on the left side of the room. A raider fired at Nate from behind a desk, heedless of the plywood starting to char.
An alarm blared, and the bunker’s sprinkler system activated. A deluge of icy water snuffed out the fires, and the smoke and spray reduced visibility to near zero. Nate turned to yell, but Preston and Jun were already moving. Preston had slung his musket and stood ready with his sword in one hand and the pipe revolver in the other; they crossed the catwalk and got down the ramp as the raiders fired at random. Once again, Nate’s people held their fire and changed position, and the raiders hit nothing. With the fires out, the sprinklers shut off, and the downpour quickly dwindled to a trickle. Nate killed the raider behind the desk but had to dodge rounds from another one at the doorway in the corner. Lucy shot him in the chest, but the raider’s soaking wet clothing absorbed some of the laser. He staggered backwards, clutching at the burn, and Marcy finished him. Ack-Ack brought her gun around; Lucy threw herself flat as bullets ripped overhead.
And then Nate heard what he’d been hoping for: the metallic sound of a machine gun top cover opening. Ack-Ack was reloading.
“Follow me!” He leaped to his feet and pushed forward, firing as he went. Marcy stayed right with him on the left, and Preston and Jun formed the rest of the line on his right. Lucy and Sturges moved up behind them but couldn’t keep up; Nate pointed them to cover the corner door. Ack-Ack gave up trying to reload and backpedaled, firing a pipe pistol. Preston shot her three times and she fell. They drove through the archway and swept their way down a low-ceilinged hallway which had been converted into an eating area. Nate’s machine gun clicked empty; he slung it, pulled his 1911, and put two rounds into a raider with a sawed-off shotgun. The last two raiders ducked into a side room and found themselves trapped between Jun, Sturges, and Lucy. They fell, and the group found themselves standing alone.
“Cease fire!” Nate called. For a moment, all he could hear was his own ears ringing from the gunfight. He looked around to see tired grins on everyone’s faces. “Sound off, is everyone all right?”
“I got grazed at the end there, but not too bad,” Marcy said, pressing a cloth to her arm.
“I’m fine,” Preston said.
Sturges patted his injured leg. “I’ll need to take it easy for a while, but I’ll be fine.”
Jun shook his head, looking at the rifle in his hands. “We did it… we actually did it.”
Lucy let out a strangled sob. Everyone turned to look, concerned, to see her kneeling by one of the raider bodies. She stood up, holding a lever-action rifle. “It’s Mary’s gun; Papa and Mama gave us each one for Christmas a couple years ago.” She wiped away a tear, but also smiled faintly. “She got the big one because she’s the big sister.”
Marcy walked over and laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let’s get you back home. They’re probably worried sick; let’s not make them wait another night.”
Notes:
Whew, finally got this one out! Again, this story is now officially on hiatus until sometime in May 2025. I'm on a Dragon Age kick for a while.
Chapter 11: Shopping Spree
Summary:
Nate and his friends make a salvaging run to Lexington, to gather the last supplies they'll need for the winter.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Nate walked out of the woods along the west shore of the lake, with a trio of mole rats hanging from his belt. He crossed the little footbridge and headed up the street. Preston was in front of the old Rosa house, splitting firewood to add to a sizeable pile stacked in the carport. He smiled and waved as Nate approached. Mama Murphy came out of her house and took the rats to roast for supper. A little further up the street, Jun was butchering a radstag carcass in the shower of an unoccupied house, and Marcy was scraping the hide. It had been two weeks since the assault on Satellite Station Olivia, and the settlement was coming along nicely. They’d made great strides on repairing the houses and Red Rocket, and Sturges had cobbled together a few woodstoves out of oil drums and steel pipe. The radio which Nate had brought back from Diamond City was now installed at the truck stop, its small antenna mounted on the tip of the rocket. It would do for now, but Preston had told Nate he wanted to build a dedicated radio tower later on. The settlement buildings were ready for them to hunker down for the winter; now it was a matter of getting in as much food and fuel as they could before the weather turned bad. Nate and Jun had been out hunting nearly every day, often accompanied by Blake or Lucy Abernathy. They had fashioned crude racks from window screens and smoked the meat into jerky. The bones, they cooked into stock, then boiled down into a gelatinous concentrate which Connie Abernathy canned for them.
The raider outpost at Olivia had held a treasure trove of supplies-not only weapons and ammunition, but some clothing and armor, along with a couple weeks’ worth of food. They’d also taken a stash of chems; some had medicinal uses, and Trudy had convinced Nate to let her sell the rest. The bunker itself had potential, in Nate’s opinion. If Jared’s raiders came at them again, it would be a good place to hole up and make a stand. But he hoped they’d had enough; even with the newly captured weapons, there were still only a handful of people, not really suited for a drawn-out fight with a gang of thugs. As Nate headed for the Red Rocket, he saw Sturges and Blake Abernathy coming through the woods from the satellite station, hauling a load of scrap in the cart.
“Anything good?” Nate asked.
Sturges nodded. “Most of this load is going with Mr. Abernathy, to patch up their homestead. But we also managed to pull some wiring and circuitry.” He lifted a crate of parts from the cart and set it on the workbench. “I still want to try and get power to the houses here, either from the Vault or by rigging up a generator. But if not, there’s plenty of people who’d like to trade for this sort of scrap.”
“Sounds good,” Preston said, walking up behind them. “Nate, Sturges, if you’re up for it, I’ve got a bit of a bigger job planned for tomorrow. Probably be overnight away from home.”
Sturges cocked his head. “The grocery store?”
Preston nodded. “That’s right.” He turned to Nate. “Before we got to the museum in Concord, we tried to shelter in the Super Duper Mart in Lexington.”
“That’s when you got attacked by those ghoul things, right?” Nate asked.
“Yup,” Sturges said grimly. “We lost good people that day.”
“But the building is still full of food and supplies,” Preston said. “There’s two cartloads at least, enough to really make us secure for the winter.” He pursed his lips. “Between the ferals and bugs, the bodies will be gone, but I’d still like to recover their personal effects. But we’d have to get there, clear the building, and then hold it for few days. Someone takes the cart load home, comes back, then we all leave with the second one.”
“You don’t mean to try that with three people?” Blake asked. “What about the ferals?”
“When we went there before, we went through Lexington,” Preston replied. “We stirred up the ferals and got spotted by the raiders in Corvega. This time, we’ll be coming from the northwest, and the supermarket is right at the edge of town. Unless there’s a sharp lookout at Corvega, the raiders shouldn’t spot us. And Marcy, Jun, and Mama need to stay home and process the meat we harvested.”
Blake put his hands on his hips. “Let us come with you. Trudy lets us use her wagon when we need to take our produce to market, in exchange for a cut of the sale. Let’s see if she’ll do the same for you; that would mean we could load up and all leave together instead of making two trips. And with Lucy and me, you’ll have more guns to clear the supermarket.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “You sure you want to come along, and Lucy too? This could be just as risky as going after the raiders.”
Blake shrugged. “Connie and I don’t like it, but Lucy is right-we all have to step up and help each other. We’ve fought ferals before-there was a little nest of them in a cabin not far from our farm.” He folded his hands. “We’ll meet you at Trudy’s after breakfast tomorrow, and head on to the market after.”
“Thank you, Blake,” Nate said. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
Trudy was happy to lend them her wagon, and then some: when the group left for Lexington, Patrick went with them. Trudy’s wagon was larger than the Longs’ cart, four wheels instead of two, pulled by a Brahmin. They were much better armed after the raid on the satellite station: everyone had a sidearm in addition to their long gun. Preston’s description of feral packs had Nate worried, so Sturges was carrying the machine gun they’d taken off Ack-Ack, which turned out to be an M240L. Nate was somewhat bemused that what had once been an outdated weapon used by Reserve and Guard units was now the most powerful gun he had. They hadn’t known Patrick was coming, but he had the pipe rifle and revolver that Nate had given Trudy.
As the wagon was empty, they were able to ride, taking turns pulling the cart, so they made good time to Lexington. When they got in sight of the town, with the Corvega plant looming in the distance, Patrick visibly cringed. Blake reached out and squeezed his shoulder, and the younger man set his jaw. Nate raised his binoculars looked the factory over. At this distance he could see raiders on the catwalks atop the factory roof. If they weren’t spotted in a minute or two, they’d be safe, the line of sight blocked by the buildings of Lexington and an elevated highway that ran next to the plant. The Super Duper Mart was at the near edge of the town, just off the main road. The building was wide and low, with an underground parking lot next to it. The roof had collapsed in the center, and the windows were largely boarded up.
They parked the cart and wagon next to the front entrance, under an awning which had once sheltered shoppers from the rain as they loaded their cars. Nate glanced at Patrick. “Will the Brahmin wander off if we leave her alone?”
The teen shook his head. “Nah. Ferals might go after her, though, so I’ll unhitch her. She’ll find a spot to graze nearby and then come when we call. And don’t worry about the wagon; Raiders generally won’t steal an empty one. They like to travel light, so unless it’s loaded with valuables…”
Nate nodded. “Good. Alright then. Lucy, you’re with Sturges again, doing pretty much the same thing as last time. Patrick, you’re with Preston, and Blake, with me.” He smiled thinly. “Fortunately, I used to shop here, so I know the layout, at least of the main shopping area. Here’s what we’ll do…”
The supermarket’s door screeched on its hinges as Blake and Patrick pulled it open. Nate was the first one in, pipe gun held at low-ready. The entryway had two doors, one leading left to the checkout area, and the other back through the old frozen food section. Nate spun to his right and took a knee, watching the aisle to the back of the building. Preston was next, coming in on Nate’s left and covering the line of cash registers at the front of the store. One by one, the others came in, and Nate took a quick look around, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The place was a mess, especially in the middle where the roof had fallen in. A few aisles were still standing, blocking his view of most of the large room. He couldn’t hear anything either, but Preston had told him that ghouls frequently slept, perfectly still, unless disturbed. He put on his goggles; the Pip-boy picked up… something, but it was only designed to detect things which had existed before the war. Nate briefly wondered if there was anything he could do about that, then shook himself and turned on his light. He waved, and his people got moving. Preston moved against the front wall and covered the others. Sturges, Lucy, and Patrick spread out into a line and started along the front of the store; Sturges led the way while Patrick and Lucy leapfrogged from one aisle to the next, looking for ghouls. Nate and Blake began moving past the waist-high freezers, heading for the back of the store. Ideally, they and Preston’s group would reach opposite corners of the store and have firing lanes down all four sides, then move back together, securing the entire room.
A loud metallic clatter made them all jump. Lucy had been so focused on clearing aisles that she hadn’t noticed the empty can at her feet. Preston hissed, and everyone froze. Something made a shuffling noise over by the diner in the far corner. Preston brought his musket up to shoulder, taking aim without a sound. Sturges flipped down the bipod of his big gun and rested it on one of the checkout counters. A man-sized shape shambled out of an aisle down near the farthest register. There was more movement in the shadows, in the small diner in the corner of the store.
“Sturges, hit the main pack,” Preston said quietly. “You two, hold your fire unless they get close. Be ready to cover Sturges when he reloads, or if I call for backup.”
The feral by the far register turned its head, listening. It took a step towards them and sniffed the air, then snarled. Preston dropped it with a shot to the head, and the crimson flash revealed a mass of ferals scrambling to their feet. Sturges opened up with the big gun, hammering away with long bursts. The pack appeared to stutter and freeze in the strobing muzzle flashes and one ghoul after another crumpled and fell as their charge faltered. A few split off and ran along the front wall of the building, but Preston vaporized one and blew another’s leg off, then finished it with another shot. A second wave of ghouls came from the diner and ran right into Sturges’ line of fire.
Across the room, Blake had heard the can and glanced back. Nate tapped him on the shoulder. “No. We have to handle this side, keep anything from getting around behind them.” A feral stood up from where it had been lying in a floor freezer; Nate dropped it with a short burst from his pipe gun. “Anything like that!”
More ferals came at them from the back of the store. Nate killed two with automatic fire, then one rushed Blake. He blew its arm clean off with his shotgun but the thing kept coming; Blake racked the pump and sent the next dose of buckshot into its face. It fell, but four more came at them. Nate killed one and his magazine clicked empty. He reached for his pistol but they were coming too damned fast. Blake shot one, then another, then clubbed the third with the butt of his shotgun. It reeled, and Nate finished it with a double tap to the head. Blake covered Nate while he reloaded, then topped off his own magazine.
“Push forward,” Nate said. “We need to get to the back wall and move to help out the others.”
They killed one more ghoul in the produce section before reaching the wall of refrigerators in the rear-right corner. This allowed them to see to their left down the back wall… where ferals were pouring out of the employee areas. Both men opened fire and downed half a dozen before the ghouls knew they were there. The pack split, some coming after Nate and Blake while the others went for the front of the store. The pair kept shooting and kept moving, Nate along the end of the aisles and Blake against the back wall. They reached the first door to the back of the store and stopped; they couldn’t go any further without risking ferals getting behind them. Nate pointed Blake to cover the door, then pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew two short blasts, paused, then blew two more-the signal that his team had reached their first objective. After a few moments, he heard Preston’s answering whistle, followed by continuous hammering as Sturges went cyclic. Ghouls kept streaming out of the back rooms and headed towards the sound of the machine gun. This made them easy targets for Nate and Blake, who took turns firing and reloading. Two of the ghouls headed for Sturges crumpled under fire from the front of the store. Preston and Patrick had taken positions at the end of shelf rows, each covering two aisles. Sturges stopped to reload, but Lucy held her own, firing as fast as she could work the lever, then drawing her new 10mm. Sturges snapped the cover shut and cut down a quartet of ferals with one long burst. He advanced and took a knee, then Lucy moved up, shoving cartridges into her lever gun. She trailed Sturges to one side, letting him clear the way forward with the big gun.
Two minutes from Nate blowing the whistle, Sturges and Lucy came into view at the far end of the back wall. Nate called for Blake and they ducked into one of the aisles, giving Sturges a clear field of fire. Another minute or two of firing, and the flow of ferals diminished to a trickle, then stopped. With the big gun positioned to cut down any ghouls that came out of the back, the other two pairs were free to sweep the shopping floor for other entrances or any threats behind them. They found a few ghouls still alive but crippled and finished them off. The diner itself was full of radroaches, which weren’t even worth shooting.
“We made camp here,” Preston told Nate, stepping into the old diner. “We were sleeping in the booths. It was the most comfortable we’d been in a week. We had people standing watch at the front door and in the parking garage, but we thought those windows were too small for ferals to get through. At first it was just a couple that scented us and crawled in, but we had to shoot them, and the noise alerted the rest of the pack. There were twenty of us all told, six of us Minutemen and most of the others could fight, but we got scattered, some cornered in different parts of the building. The Longs and Mama made it out through the garage, along with a few others. Sturges and I fought our way to the front door and met up with the Longs at the cart and headed up the road. A handful of ghouls chased us out, and when we dropped them, the raiders spotted the lasers and came after us.”
Nate chuckled hollowly. “This is where I came in.”
Preston lifted a hat from one of the booths; it looked to have started life as a cowboy hat, before the back was bent up to form a tricorn. He held it out to Nate, who found it too small. Nate smiled to himself and walked over to Lucy. She beamed and put it on, cocking it slightly to the side so it didn’t get in the way of shouldering her rifle. Blake tried to hide a smile and almost succeeded.
The supermarket had been built to withstand the food riots which had been more and more frequent in the months before the bombs fell. A few minutes’ search turned up steel grates which could be quickly fitted inside the windows. Another few minutes and the windows were secure, and they’d closed and barred the front door. The only other way in from the outside was the hole in the roof, and if the ghouls or raiders managed to climb the fifteen-foot wall, they’d make a racket walking across the corrugated metal roof. Sturges and Lucy would worry about that as rear guard, while Nate led the rest in clearing the back rooms. Preston and Patrick took positions at the meat counter while Nate and Blake went in the back door. Blake covered the hallway leading further in while Nate quickly found a connecting door into the butcher shop. It was empty, so he nodded Preston and Patrick to follow them in. Preston slung his long-barreled musket and drew his revolver in on, clicking on a flashlight in his other hand. To the right was the employee area, with the management office and a break room. It looked like someone had once made a home here; the office had been converted into a bedroom with a pair of ratty old mattresses, and the break room held some personal effects and dishes. But there was no one alive, just a pair of dried-out ghoul bodies. A corridor led off towards the loading dock and garage, wide enough for a pallet jack. Nate took point, advancing down the hallway with his pipe gun at low-ready. A side door led to what looked like a utility storeroom. Nate peeked in, saw nothing, and sped past the doorway with Blake, motioning Preston and Patrick to secure the room. Preston stepped inside and went right, Patrick left. The room looked clear, but as they turned to leave a feral tumbled out of a heavy steel cabinet.
Patrick yelled a warning and fired twice as it lunged. One shot missed, the other took the feral in the shoulder and it clawed at him, knocking them both back into the wall. Patrick dropped his pipe rifle and grappled the thing, one hand on its throat to force its snapping jaws away. Preston stepped in and shot the ghoul point-blank through the head. It dragged Patrick down as it fell, dead before it hit the floor. The boy kicked the corpse off, scrambled to his feet, and picked up his gun. Out in the hall, Nate flinched at the gunfire, listened to make sure Preston didn’t need help, and brought his gun up. Sure enough, more ferals came running from the loading dock. Nate fired first, shredding a trio of ghouls with automatic fire. Blake moved past him as he knelt to reload, blasting buckshot into the oncoming ferals as fast as he could rack the shotgun. Then he knelt, and Nate advanced, keeping up the pressure. This group wasn’t as large as the pack they’d encountered earlier, and they were bottlenecked in the hallway. Nate and Blake barely had to aim as they mowed down a dozen more. Once again, the stream of ferals dropped to a trickle, then stopped.
Patrick was now sporting a lump on the back of his head and some bruises, but he was okay to keep going. The four of them reached the loading dock and stopped short. There must have been a delivery on the morning the bombs fell; there were still several pallets of something sitting on the dock heavily wrapped in plastic. Patrick started towards them and Nate cleared his throat. “Stay sharp. I know it looks like a good haul, but we need to secure the area first. That stuff has been sitting here for over 200 years; it’s not going anywhere.”
Patrick nodded. “Sorry, boss.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just listen to Preston and you’ll be all right.” Nate shook his head. They’re a long way from being soldiers. Hopefully I have time to train them up properly. I’ll need help, both finding Shaun and then keeping our home safe afterwards.
There were a couple small groups of ghouls in the parking garage, but before long, they’d completely cleared the building. With Preston and Nate standing watch, the others began methodically searching the store for supplies. They found plenty of food and medicine, along with cleaning supplies. Preston recovered his friends’ weapons and ammunition. It was enough to ensure they’d make it through the winter. But the real prize was the plastic-wrapped pallets on the loading dock: it was a shipment of Christmas merchandise. There were cases of fruitcake, candy, cocoa mix, and more, along with hats, gloves, and scarves. Patrick, nearly babbling with excitement, explained that what they had was worth a small fortune.
“I assume you want to sell it on commission, like the raiders’ gear?” Nate asked.
Patrick scratched his shoulder. “Eventually, yes. This stuff is valuable, but there’s too much of it. If we sell it all at once, the price will drop, and you won’t get value for it. If you need caps right now, that’s an option, but it’s worth more if you sell this stock a little at a time-which means our cut will be larger, too. You should talk to Ma and hash out the details, and you might also think about trading for goods, instead of caps. You make more that way, too. We can get you pretty much whatever you need for the settlement from your caravan contacts.”
“We’ll have to take the pallets apart to load the stuff on the wagons,” Sturges said. “They’ve got all that shrink wrapping on them, we can use it to bundle them up for storage, either in one of the houses, or in the Vault.”
Preston nodded. “The hats and such, we should sell. Winter’s pretty much here and people need to stay warm, there’ll be demand. It’s all luxuries-no one needs chocolate to live.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lucy quipped. She, Nate, and Patrick laughed as Blake covered his face.
They ate a quick lunch, not even bothering to heat up food. The downside to the pile of salvage they’d found was how long it would take to pack it all. They worked as fast as they could, but it was getting dark by the time they had everything loaded up. There was no choice, they had to spend the night in the store. They bedded down in the employee area, where they could close and lock the doors to the shopping floor and loading dock. A few stacks of empty cans and glass bottles served as an improvised alarm system, and they kept a watch, with two people standing watch while the others slept. Nate woke to a wonderful smell; Patrick had made a pot of oatmeal, which they topped with canned apple pie filling. Fueled for the journey home, they hitched up the wagon and started up the road, moving slower now everyone had to walk the whole way.
And then Nate’s Pip-boy bonged. It wasn’t a sound he was familiar with, an urgent, metallic alarm. He frowned and checked the screen, then looked up at Preston. “It’s picking up a new radio transmission… on frequency AF95. That’s a band that was reserved for military distress signals. Soldiers needing rescue, air crashes, that kind of thing.”
“That’s weird,” Sturges said. “Most transmitters can’t send on that channel, only old military equipment. You say it just started transmitting?”
“That’s what triggered the alarm,” Nate said. “Someone out there must be using an old emergency radio.”
He tuned to the frequency. It was mostly static, but he was able to discern “Reconnaissance Squad… casualties… requesting support… Cambridge.”
Nate met Preston’s eyes. “Sounds like someone needs help.”
Preston nodded. “Sounds like a job for the Minutemen.”
Notes:
Just a real quick adventure to set up the next big step on Nate's journey. Up next... I think you know.
EthanTheRenegade on Chapter 1 Fri 24 May 2024 01:27AM UTC
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