Chapter 10: Arc-Jet Systems
Jon was on the rail line with Dogmeat, just as it began doing down hill. to his target was Graygarden, a farm run by robots. While the interchange post was technically still in sight, it was at the edge of even Jon’s vision. The on ramp post was up the hill, and well outside view, and still a distance itself. His caravan guards, especially in this area, needed to be low profile, even if their General was in plain view.
Though the rail he passed a graveyard with a morning raider, that of course attacked, and of course died. Jon would have let him be if he wasn’t an aggressive ass. Then he passed another ranger cabin, and was assured in his rifle requisition. There was an irradiated bear hanging around the cabin, gnawing on a super mutants. It stood on hits hid legs out of instinct, but that at least gave Jon what he needed. Precisely 15 bullets slammed into its exposed chest at full auto, and the rest of the mag into it’s head. It still wobbled for a second before finally falling over. He would need the larger calibers.
Checking the super mutant, he found a crudely written note telling his brother that he found a new friend, the bear, and was going to try and pet it. The note obviously never got to it’s intended recipient. He learned much about super mutants with the note. While being smart enough to write, they were still dumb as box as a rocks. Jon wandered if that was nature or nurture. They still apparently had some innocence in them if nothing else, if they wanted to make a new friend and pet them.
He got closer to the farm, a greenhouse with over a dozen Mr. Handys tending the field, and then his Pip-Boy beeped, three short, three long, three short. Jon immediate brought his radio tab up. It was on a military frequency, listed as 95, so no wonder it over rode everything on a Pip-Boy to come through.
He tuned, “This is Scribe Haylen of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius to any unit within transmission range. Authorization Arx. Ferrum. Ninner. Five. Our unit has sustained causalities and we’re running low on supplies. We’re requesting support or evac from out position at Cambridge Police Station. Automated Message Repeating.”
Jon acknowledged the distress call, not knowing if that got though to the other side, and began double timing it to the farm. He jogged into the greenhouse and found a white Mr. Handy that seemed to be in charge.
“You in charge here?”
“I am darling, and what a handso-”
“General Jon Singh, Commonwealth Minuteman. Apologies for interrupting, but I have to respond to a distress call. I’ll be back so we can talk more formally.”
She nodded with her eyes, and Jon took off again towards the police station. It was on the edge of the smaller city ruins and had the radio transmitter the signal was coming from on top. Jon triple timed it when the gunshots shots started, and Dogmeat had no problem keeping pace.
He cut though an alleyway and saw the ferals running down the main drag, a lot of ferals. While terrifying for a normal man, unless they were glowing they represented no real threat to Jon. He charged into there charging formation on the outside of the walls of the Brother hood compound. It broke their charge in as they all reoriented on the new target.
His initial charge slammed into his first target, almost breaking it in pieces on his momentum. He next attack was a butt to the head of another, taking it clean off, then the shots followed. Each step he took back, was another shot snapped into the head of a ghoul. Sometimes there were two shots per steps. The hot rod inside had cleaned up the ghouls there with his laser weapon, and opened fired again as Jon backed though the gates of the compound. Jon trusted the Brotherhood to have enough honor to not shoot a fellow soldier in the back when he was trying to help him. He was rewarded when the man’s fire passed him as he moved off to the side and into a firing line with him.
Jon reloaded fast, perhaps too fast, and sustained his perhaps too fast fire against the charging ghouls while the man next to him nearly matched it. After a couple dozen more ghouls fell they stopped charging though. When it was over, Jon took a few purposeful steps back, and was rewarded with the man’s gun in his face. Dogmeat growled a bit.
He had a deep and commanding voice, un-modulated by the missing T-60 helmet on his frame, “Exactly how did you work that rifle so fast.”
Jon could ask him the same question, it wasn't that much slower. Jon answered coolly with a lie, “VATS. My model of Pip-Boy is experimental, eldritch in it’s function. 3000 Mk IV.”
The injured man gave his angry input, “He’s a fucking synth. Shoot that bastard.”
An ironic accusation given what his CO was.
Scribe Haylen gave hers as well, “Shut up you fucking idiot, and let me tend these wounds. He’s right. That model is weird. Eldritch is exactly how I would describe it.”
He have a quick turn of his head back towards the pair, before meeting Jon’s aviators again, “And where exactly did you get an eldritch Pip-Boy, citizen.”
Jon scowled, “None of your fucking business soldier. And I am Not a citizen. I am General Jon Singh, of the Commonwealth Minutemen, and you will show me the respect that rank deserves. You will also explain who you are, and what your intentions in the Commonwealth are.”
“You’re edging dangerously close to being ejected from the compound.”
“My compound. You're just using it it at my allowance. You don’t live here. You're invaders here. Now if you want to keep handing out veiled techno-cultist threats, you'll be ejected. If you want my help that I came literally running to offer after hearing your distress call, then you best give a sit rep soldier.”
“Danse! Drop the machismo for just a second! We’re starving and near dead here!”
He fully turned his head to what was left of his squad, and had a pained expression in his eye. Synth or not, he cared about his people, and their deaths. He turned his head back and lowered his rifle. Jon’s wasn’t up like his was through the standoff, but it was on the high side of low ready. It went back to the low side.
Danse said, “Apologies, General. But do not think you’re my commanding officer.”
Jon said, “I’m not, but I don’t like being threatened. The only reason I’m helping you is out of respect for the Lyons family and their sacrifices. I do not like other things I’ve heard about the Brotherhood, and will not be talked down to by them in my home.”
Everyone of the squad members winced at the mention of the Lyons name, all for different reasons. They didn’t have the choice in having what they were and are rubbed in their face.
Danse huffed and said, “I am Paladin Danse, that is Scribe Haylen and Knight Reese. We’re what’s left of recon squad Gladius. Our long range transmitter is busted, and we can’t get a that distress call out of the Commonwealth. We know where one is, but I cant go myself, nor can I take one of them and leave the compound even less defended than it is. My choice is an injured Knight, or a Scribe I cant lose under any circumstances if we want that transmitter up again.”
Jon nodded, “I’ll help. Get yourself resupplied with what you have. I’ll also give some of my aid kit to your scribe. Where is it?”
Danse grimaced again at the thinly veiled order and said, “Arc Jet systems, I’ll mark it on your map.”
Jon looked and nodded, “We’ll stop at Graygarden on the way. I was planning on talking to them, solving whatever problem they have. I’m sure we can get some food to you as well.”
Danse grimaced again at being fed by a farm run by robots, but Scribe Haylen was right. Their lives were the most important thing, even over his or his beliefs. He nodded and turned back towards the police station. Jon followed and picked the Knight up over his objection, and carried him to where the Scribe lead him too. He then gave Scribe Haylen all of his medical supplies. It was a risk, in case he needed them himself, but he probably wouldn't.
She nearly cried as she smiled and thanked him. Jon had a feeling she joined the Brotherhood for something more, and was not happy with what she found. It was like just giving up the supplies to those who need it more as Jon did was a high ideal to them, and not the standard. It told Jon a lot about their current order of things. He didn’t know if he could really blame them given the realities of the wastes.
Danse had his helmet on after a few minutes, and was ready. He said, “Is there anything you need, General?”
Jon said, “Unless you have five five, Paladin.”
“We do not.”
“Then I wont take anything else you have. Lets move. Dogmeat, stay with them. Keep watch.”
Dogmeat barked in the affirmative.
They walked out of the station and along the towering freeway towards Graygarden. Jon spied a lift up the thing, and also a crashed vertibird further down. Jon had found two sets of power armor beside crashed vertibirds, and the parts would be good for salvage. They actually seemed pretty sturdy, it was just the rotors and their assemblies that were made of glass, which is par for the VTOL course. He would certainly draw up the plans to a modified black hawk, one that could use local fusion power. And Jets, which he hopped to find, so he wouldn't have to start a jet program from scratch. A retro MIG should be good enough, not purposely waste material like all current designs, and be easier to build in the infancy of a jet program. Combined with AIM pattern missiles? Decent radar? Jon was glad he took an interest in weapons as a kid.
The bots were still working away when pair walked into the greenhouse. Danse nearly scoffed at Jon’s formal opener, “Greetings madam. As I said, apologies for being so rude.”
“Oh, so polite darling, even when you’re rude. I’m Ms. White, the main proprietor of this humble little farm. I’m in partnership with Mr. Brown and Green. I am happy to say we’ve been supplying the commonwealth with produce for over 200 years darling.”
Jon nodded, “I imagine, being able to work 24/7. These crops look as good as Abernathy’s. Ingenious. You and whoever made this place.”
She chucked at the light dig. Abernathy was skilled from the word she had of him. She said, “Yes. Our maker was a Rob-Co engineer, and an eccentrically lovable man. He made me first, and then Mr. Brown and Green to aid me in our endeavor. Though our partnership is more or less equal these days. He based us off his favorite television personalities. The farm has run like clockwork as you said since before the bombs fell.”
Jon looked around approvingly, “And like clockwork it’s run. Seems to be a water pressure issue though. Perhaps the Minutemen can assist.”
Danse did scoff at that point. They should be taking the place over and putting the robots to work for them. Not assisting. Then he regretted his scoff. Jon and Ms. White paid it no mind.
Ms. White said, “Oh marvelous, darling. We were saddened when the Minutemen stopped showing up as much. Weston water is flooded and crawling with those disgusting green monsters. We sent a scout to see what the problem was when the water took a steep dive in quality. We don’t have the firepower to fix it ourselves, regrettably. We were even thinking of trying to contract a soldier of fortune for the task. Fix our water, darling, and the Minutemen can count on Graygarden.”
Jon smiled and nodded, but he had to inform, “Understand I would be moving people in here. Building this whole place up. That comes with being in our network these days. You and your partners are still in charge, it’s your settlement, but it wont just be you and the bots.”
She nodded, “Wonderful, darling. Some new neighbors? And some civilization? We’re certainly willing to take part.”
Jon smiled again, “Thanks, Ms. White. When I help him, I’ll take care of your issue. If you could do me a favor, send some food to the Cambridge Police Station. They’re soldiers, and in dire need of relief.”
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
“Of course darling. Its been so long since I’ve laid my mechanical eyes on some sturdy men and women with arms.” Her mechanical pincer came up to gently outline one of Jon’s strong arms.
“Thank you.” Danse nearly meekly said.
The both took off back down the hill to the road that lead to Arc-Jet. Along they way there was a group of raiders that was picking though a single brahmin caravan. They were quickly dispatched by the pair, but Jon swore when he saw how fresh the wounds were. A few minutes earlier, not stopping at Graygarden, he would have been able to save them. To Danse’s credit, he kept his silence and thought much the same thing. He didn’t hold it against the General, as it did secure a supply of food for his post.
There were also some mongrels as the went back up the hill along the main road to the facility. When they were dealt with Danse asked, “So you would really let those robots keep running that farm?”
Jon had to wonder if Danse knew what he was, and was asking for other reasons. Jon didn’t really care, and lightly snapped out, “They've kept an advanced hydroponics system running for 200 years. Who the fuck am I to move in half literate wastelanders and take that from them.”
“Not very high praise of the people from a Minuteman General.”
“And I heard how you spat at a citizen. Those bots know that system, it’s their system, and if for efficiency sake alone, they are going to run the settlement built around that system. Past the fact that I think they're people too, that survived out here as much as everyone else. Is that going to be a problem, Paladin?”
“Not with me. Not at this point in time.”
“Thanks for the warning. Now what is the Brotherhood doing in the Commonwealth.”
Danse though a moment about if he should answer that, but realized once again we was at the General’s mercy, and had given that mercy freely despite his bluster. He said, “The Brotherhood began detecting energetic burst signals with their origin in the Commonwealth, only obtainable with a high level of technology. We’re not the first recon squad sent. We’re the third. The first came back with a troves of pre-war artifacts and technical documents. The second never came back. We were sent to continue the investigation, and find our lost squad.”
“The Institute.”
“The Institute, though admittedly we have no hard proof.”
Jon grimaced, “If nothing else, you can count me their enemy.”
“That’s enough for now.”
Jon smiled. He wished they would. The salvaged power armor would be useful for his Minutemen. He said, “It’s your op, Paladin. I’ll be on you’re six.”
He nodded and they breached into the building with purpose, their guns swaying and slowing as they checked corners and angles. The reception area was empty, and covered with a trove of documents and junk. There were no enemies, and they both took a moment to look. Jon took a look at a public terminal, and a few of the documents.
“They weren't making Jets here. A rocket, to go to mars. Incredible.”
Danse huffed, “Hmm. It was corporations like this that put the last nail in the coffin for mankind. They should have been focused right here before they ever looked to another world. Instead they exploited technology for their own gain, pocketing the cash and ignoring the damage done.”
“I can’t disagree.”
“Let’s move. Be advised, one of those burst signals was recorded in this area. It’s what made me adamant that I couldn’t go alone.”
“Roger.”
Danse took point and Jon followed not far behind. It wasn't long before they stepped though the door to deeper in, and had to bypass a collapsed floor. The path took them into the main security room, and their dead on the floor occupants.
Jon said, “Looks like we were late to the party. No shell casings, or blood. Energy weapons fire, somewhat accurate. Looks more massed. A different frequency than normal blasters.”
Danse paused a moment to look at the General, to judge. He said, “Yes. Gen 2 synth most likely. Their strength is numbers. The Institute is here.”
“That confirms your hypothesis.”
“Indeed it does. Keep it tight.”
They proceeded though the tighter corridors, and Jon had to admit that Danse was good in his armor to keep it tight as he was. Their next stop was in a bigger lab room, with a locked set of doors on the one wall. Behind it were gen 2 Synths, and they all immediately dropped what they were doing to stare though the windows at the intruders. All in all there were about ten synths.
Jon smiled as he walked up to the window, and waved at the bots. They simply moved their heads in unison looking at his hand as it passed back and forth. Danse came up beside him to preform his own recce of the next room.
“Abominations.”
“Those are just regular robots.”
“The gen 3’s are more. Insidious.”
“Yes it is insidious that the Institute manufactures human slaves.”
Danse’s head snapped to Jon, and he could tell that the man in power armor seriously thought about drawing. Jon simply smiled, “Do something, please. Because I have an opinion, based on fact. Tell the rest of the Commonwealth what the Brotherhood is here to do.”
Danse head turned back to the synths. If it was any other circumstance. He said, “See if you can get this door open, I’ll stand ready.”
Jon hacked the computer, not strong even by their standards, and opened the hatch to the door. The laser fire immediately poured thought, but Danse was right, strength was their number. Their lasers were also not as high powered as the Paladin’s, and deflected easy off his advanced armor. He made his own angry reply, and Jon chucked a grenade into the room once he got off to the side and had an angle. An explosion decreased the fire coming in, and they last of them charged to melee ranged, being cut down by either laser or bullets.
The engagement didn’t end however, as more synths came in from the next room. Dance simply walked over them in some cases, shooting down what he didn’t. Once he got to the larger room Jon was able to get an angle for shots. He took the upper left quadrant of the room and shot down the synths on a balcony walkway. There were a couple on the ground floor, and a couple more that came down a collapsed ramp up to the second floor.
Then the engagement was done until they had advanced. Jon said, “Wait one. Cant give up all this ammo.”
Danse nodded and held the room while Jon backtracked, and then re-tracked to pick up the fusion cells from the institute weapons and synths. A quick test of a trigger showed the weapons hadn't been trapped in anyway. It seemed a little arrogant to Jon, but if the weapons he would only use for parts weren’t trapped, then neither are the ammo cells.
He came back up up to Danse, and offered him his fill of cells. He refilled the ammo pouches along his armor for the first time in months it felt like, even though it had only been weeks. They continued up to the second floor, and wrapped around the perimeter of the lager room, though its side room, until they had come to the ramp down to the first floor that they had to bypass initially. The place, Jon saw, was another trove of junk and technical information. Information he would need for his longer term ambitions.
Danse said, “Damn synths have compromised the entire facility. This place will have to be tagged for sweep and clear once we’re done.”
“Don’t bother. The Minutemen will be doing that, by right of actually living here. The mainframes we’ve seen so far will be invaluable.” Jon didn’t need the mainframes to stay at this particular facility, like he did the ones at Olivia. He just needed the data from here.
Danse simply grunted, being unable to stop them at this moment in time. They went back up some other stairs to continue deeper into the facilities. Sidestepping around some collapsed structural pieces, Danse slowed his pace as he carefully checked the corner around the hall. He stepped back into cover quickly. A moment later the targeting was finished, and the turrets opened fire at the empty air were Danse was.
Jon was slightly disappointed. He couldn’t get a true measure of the Brotherhood’s capabilities based on what he’s seen of Danse. He could learn about gen 3 synths though. They were nearly superior. Their purpose build corsairs probably would be. He would have to be careful facing them.
Jon took the door at the other end of the wall, and spied no enemies inside. The turrets were still whirling, but had cut their fire at the lack of a target. Jon said, “Server room in here. I’ll see if one of the terminals controls the turrets.”
There of course was, and their noises died after their stings had been electronically cut. Jon wondered if there was a program out there to fully hack them. He could write one if there wasn’t.
He came back out to Danse standing at the ready, his gun down the hall. He said, “Excellent work, General.”
“You as well, Paladin.”
There weren’t any other enemies the rest of the way though the main part of the facility. Eventually they walked into a better lit engine core, with a rocked mounted for testing. Judging by the gauges, it was actually primed and ready to fire.
Jon nearly salivated and Danse said, “Look at his. Scribes would have a field day in here.”
“I’m willing to share as long as the Brotherhood asks nicely.”
“And what exactly would a farmer militia do with a rocket like this?”
“A professional military now, and go to space, which is what it was built for if you didn’t know.”
Danse scoffed, and Jon said, “Think what you want friend. Space is where the resources are. It’s paramount to get there at this point.”
“So we can do this to other words?”
“Would we need to? Its seems like they solved all of their energy problems before the war. It was just a shadow government that really wanted the bombs to fall so their sick experiment vaults would actually be used. Besides, most worlds with resources are airless rocks. We can’t damage them any more than the cosmos already does on a daily basis.”
“You seem to know a lot for a wastelander.”
“Keep that in mind. Lets continue.”
The went down the steps and stood under the nozzle of the rocket. Jon agreed to scout a maintenance area while Danse held the staging area. The mission was to get power back up, so the elevator could be take up to the last part of the facility, and they last part the deep range transmitter could be.
Jon stepped into the room, and listened to the holotape of someone that sounded like a real loser. He was going to use a junk jet as a weapon for workplace violence, and the bombs fell the next morning. He didn’t feel bad about wiping the tape so he could store the test data. He activated the terminal in the back, and started up backup generator. The generator in the room was apparently only for kick starting the others, for whatever reason. It was not problem for Jon to pull the core, and make way to invite Danse in for the test.
Synths were dropping down into the room by half dozen, and dance was firing away when Jon entered the maintenance area again. He said, “Shit, Danse!”
“Fire the engine!”
“Get out from under the nozzle!”
Jon slammed the tape into the recorder, in the time that dance needed to reposition. Jon pulled a breaker, completing the ignition circuit, and slammed the big red button down.
A sultry voice said, “Test firing, in T minus 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, engaged.”
The sparks lit the fuel, and the engine cried with life against its bods with what little fuel it had. It was only a couple second burn, but enough to fry the synths beginning to pile onto Danse, and bring the power armor man to his knees. Jon slapped the safety release on the shielded door, and ran out to the core room after the rocket had fired. The room was still hot with mirage, and most of the synth corpses simply piles of ash.
Their weapons were also melted. Interestingly enough, Danse’s weapon was fine, and so were the standard fusion cells. It seems the Institute either had to redesign laser weapons from scratch, and have yet to meet the ruggedness of military hardware, or simply didn’t feel their weapons ever had to survive the extremes of a rocket test, where their synths would assuredly not either. Maybe both.
“Fucking Christ, are you all right?”
He slowly got to his feet, his armor still steaming, and said, “Yeah, thanks. I’ll need a second. Maybe pick up this ammo.”
Jon nodded and got to that work. He threw almost five dozen more cartridges in his ruck. Jake would certainly appreciate these. And the Brotherhood squad when he gave them their share. His tact here was very specific. He was always going to help fellow soldiers in need of relief, but he also needed them to know that the Commonwealth will not give them the warmest of welcome, especially when they insult and threaten right off the bad. Thinking he’s a synth is one thing, that’s par for the course. Thinking they had a right to a cosmic gift fairly given was another. They will not just do as they please in his new home. Peace or war. Their choice.
They took larger cargo elevator up to the final offices, and main mission room for the testing facility. It was down a hall, and there were synths rooting around in there. They were also riled up by elevator locking in place on their floor.
“Cover my six.” Jon said, and he took the lead to give Danse a rest. Synth or not, that had to take a lot out of a man, and Jon reckoned a normal person would be cooked though.
Danse gave no protest as Jon took steps forward and opened fire on synths that had popped though to look. Two had gone down to his snap shots, and then a third form had began a charge though the hall. It was only a shimmer as it advanced indeed at inhuman speed. If it was smart it would have fired from the end of the hall, or if it wasn't wrapped in a stealth field that would probably deactivate when it did. This would work on someone not of Augment eyes or with targeting optics.
Jon saw the arm swing back for a stab that would have followed a fraction of a second later had Jon not been faster with his boot. It slammed into the charging shimmer, and flung it back to the end of the hall, and though the door. His stealth field deactivated and Jon saw the imprint in it’s chest from his kick, the rib cage caved in. That didn’t deter him however. He shot up, and his gun, a tricked out 10mm, shot out almost as fast. Jon actually had to use his VATS, and targeted the corsair’s head with every bit of AP he could muster.
When the exchange was over, a few bullets from the corsair’s own full auto bust whizzed past his head, one ricocheting off his helmet, and a near full magazine of five five had been dumped into his. He was still twitching like we was trying to raise his gun hand up for an attack. These corsairs were dangerous indeed, and Jon was lucky.
Jon took a deep centering breath, and at the end of it Danse asked, “What are you?”
To Danse’s credit, he wasn't pointing his weapon at Jon. Jon reckoned Danse figured out that wouldn't be wise at this point. Jon said, “A science experiment created by no one you know. All the Brotherhood needs to know is that I agree that science can easily outpace man’s restraint, and I fought against the lack of restraint by others like me, killing them by the hundreds when they would not see reason.”
Danse grunted, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt as a fellow soldier, but I can not guarantee others will do the same.”
Jon shrugged, showing how casually he took their threats, “That will be their folly if they don’t. Emphasize to your leadership that I am more than willing to be reasonable, but I am not the man to fuck with. And my home isn't the place to fuck with. Burn it all to the ground, everything I’m building to make a better life for people because you don’t like the man doing the building, and I will still be there with a cold hand to welcome you into our mutual grave.”
“I’ll include that in my report. Let’s get that transmitter and get out of here.”