Chapter 18: The Constitution
Jon and Nick hopped off the vertibird after a light touch down, and it screamed back up in the sky not a moment later. They kept their heads down at the draft until the bird had gotten sufficiently far away. They stood up and he could see the Constitution at the end of the land on the other side of the inlet, lodged in a bank. He hopped he could get the crew on his side. He thought he could, but he had to consider the possibility that he couldn't. He didn’t know what he would do yet.
They began walking across the bridge onto the peninsula after a quick check of their weapons confirmed no tampering. They would visit Bunker Hill first, show face, and then make for the ship the next block over. Jon said, “You alright?”
Nick was smoking, “Yeah actually. It felt good to get that off my chest in front of those jerks. They’re going to know their enemy, as the Elder said.”
Jon said, “He seemed receptive. Like a man willing to change his views with the introduction of new evidence. He’ll think on it, and he’ll think on it more when he finds his guy is a synth.”
Nick scoffed, “He did seem a little mechanical. Figured that was military training. They often take in strays with nowhere else to go. Not the best situation, but better than leaving them in the wastes to fend for themselves. You sniff him out?”
Jon smiled as he nodded, “Yeah. Soon as I met him. Don’t think he knows. Didn’t have the Mayor McDonough vibe. Not an infiltrator.”
Nick smirked, “I still called him. Especially with Hancock’s testimony, his brother. Had a smile he never saw. Didn’t recognize his own brother as ghouls were being pushed out. For what it’s worth, if you think one’s an infiltrator, like someone important getting replaced you sniff out, kill em. Don’t hesitate. Pick out their bits if there's a crowd. You can’t trust infiltrators, ever.”
Jon said, “Programmed true believers.”
Nick replied, “Exactly. Most synths are sweepers, maintainers, go getters. They can be recalled, forced to do things, but they aren’t infiltrators.”
Jon shook his head, “Fucking Christ. A gen one could do those things. They make slaves just to sweep the floor.”
Nick shrugged, “The Brotherhood has a good point or two. Absolutely no restraint, or thought of the consequences of their actions. Just the experiment. They certainly cant be trusted with the tech they have, no different than others like them. Men like you and Maxson are the men that stand up to them. Stop them. The Vault Dweller, Lone Wanderer, Courier, Chosen One. Now General and Elder.”
“If he moderates his ideology. I am not prepared to allow him to genocide my friends.”
Nick smirked as they walked up to Bunker hill. The main market around the obelisk monument and in it’s adjacent building was walled in, and some of the surrounding buildings served as living space. The settlement was just under a couple hundred people, but thousands could live in the entire neighborhood if the other buildings were repaired. Using very basic ‘plots’ they could pass boards, bricks, glass, pipes. Everything needed to bring the place to near pre-war standards. They could use the device to scan and calculate what they need, even.
The gatekeeper made her challenge. Standing at the top of the steps with a double barrel at the ready. Jon was happy with the security of the place. Not even he should walk around everywhere without challenge.
“You there! Trading, or raiding!?”
Jon didn’t hesitate, “Raiding! Stick em up!” And he put up a lazy finger gun.
She laughed a moment, “Need a bigger caliber pal, hows it going Nicky!”
Nick simply tipped his hat, and she got the message. They both walked up, and she looked shocked as they got closer. She said, “Oh shit, sorry General. Didn’t realize that's who you were. Don’t have as many markings as Preston did.”
Jon smiled, “For doing your job? Don’t be. Just passing though. Food and a visit.”
She said, “Yeah, go see the Old Man, he’d want to talk to you. Probably at the bar near the back, get food there too.”
“Thanks.”
“Kess.”
They both walked away and towards the back. There were brahmin pens, their tenders, a patch of crop here or there. At the north west corner was the bar, and Jon picked out the Old Man immediately. He was smiling and cajoling. He controlled every conversation, but he was also a genuinely happy man. It made him a breath of fresh air to deal with in the world of brahmin barons. An honest businessman was a dangerous opponent.
“Mr. Stockton?” Jon opened with.
He turned around quickly, and gave his signature smile and hand, “Oh please. Old Man Stockton, or Stockton is fine. Mr. Stockton was my father and whatnot. You must be the General. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Jon took and hand, and resisted any attempts to pull him in for a more hearty shake. They both grinned as their off hands came up to grip and control what they could in the shake, at the same time. Jon won, “Please, Jon is fine. Nice to meet you as well. My condolences for what your daughter went through, your hands.”
He nodded gratefully as they sat down for food and drink, “Thank you. Honest Dan is top rate, and your man Preston sealed the deal. It was unfortunate what it took, but I can’t find myself saddened by that part of it all.”
“The callousness of the cruelty. It was done without a thought nor care for who they did it to. Worse, done to them with justification. Dumpsters of parts.”
“Indeed. I see why they made you General. Bunker Hill is for the Minutemen, and the Brotherhood’s arrival does not change that.”
Jon smiled, “Thanks, Stockton. I negotiated an initial settlement with Elder Maxson, and Bunker Hill was firmly in that settlement. It is my hope I can hold some treats in front of them to eventually get them out of the rest of the places they go.”
“Save the treats.” Stockton said.
Jon nodded, “Exactly. Put them in only a couple places. They’re here to fight the Institute.”
Stockton replied, “A common enemy will unite, but will it last?”
Jon said, “Hopefully. We defeat the Institute, and they scram. We give them a couple bases as a reward, try to get at least one in their turf. Stay allies and mutually benefit.”
Stockton almost agreed, almost. He said, “But there are other issues with a long term Brotherhood presence.”
Jon smirked. He also felt like he was having a different conversation on accident. He was here to confirm that the Minutemen were for Bunker Hill, and a duty to answer to his constituents every once in a while as the MG of a pre-democratic state. Did he trigger some code word or phrase? Was one part of the network assuming another cell contacted him?
He said, “He will moderate his views, or else. That will not come to pass under my watch. He seemed reasonable, willing to consider other points of view.”
Nick said, “He let me get a word in edgewise, right after calling for my death.”
Stockton nodded approvingly. Perhaps the worst really wouldn't happen with the General leading the way. He was even more confident in his decision than he was. The Minutemen did not have great history with Bunker Hill, abandoning them during a raid, and then coming back to raid.
Jon said, “And his counterpart is by his definition a mutant. He has no choice but to work with his quote unquote enemy. Even if he destroyed us, I would personally cut him real fucking deep as he did. And he knows that for a fact.”
Stockton gave a shark smile, one he gave only when necessary. When one was as old as he was in the caravan business, one got trusted word from time to time about wasteland warriors. Walking armies, who’s enemies can only fall before them. He was meeting and talking to one, something he never did.
He said, “Fair enough General. You have a good idea of the big picture, and a direction to navigate it. We trust you, Jon.”
Jon smiled. He was a little slow on the uptake, but caught it. There was also a man he noticed at the other end of the bar. It was the bald head that caught his eye. The sunglasses, the familiar smell. He first saw the man in DC. Nothing wrong with that, almost anyone could live there. He would not let it get to a third before assuming outside action. The railroad was competent, at least by the agent trailing him.
He paid it no mind, outwardly. He was being followed, and the man was good to escape initial notice. If he hadn't sat down midway though the conversation he would have gone unnoticed.
Stockton, “Well, thank you for the visit. I’m sure you have many other things to do. The meal is on me.”
Jon said, “Thanks. Any other Minutemen related problems?”
Stockton scoffed, “Actually I don’t think so. We were paying protection money Wire, but now that airship is in the way. They will not tolerate raiders crossing their sight, and may even attack them in Libertalia as it’s so close by.”
Jon frowned, “Unfortunate, as I wanted to court marshal him for war crimes. I had a whole plan for a show trial to show people how it should be done. With lawyers and shit. Who am I kidding he wouldn't have come alive, because he knows the end result. Probably even laugh at the attempt.”
Stockton chucked, “I bet. He’s the one that betrayed us initially. Preston agreed that we keep paying for now, but now I don’t think it will be an issue. There is also Jared in Lexington, but they haven't come out of their hole in a while now.”
Jon thought about it a moment, “We took out a large chunk of their force. Half or more, and left them lay in the street for days, weeks almost. They don’t have the strength, or they’re scared. Maybe both. They will be taken care of. Make any final payments if you have too, we can just give it right back.”
“If that’s the case, keep it for the cause. Good day, Jon.”
Jon nodded with a smile, and ate his fill at the bar. A couple brahmin steaks, and mashed tatos. Nick perused around, and bought a bauble for Ellie. He thanked the keep and got back up to continue to the Constitution. The man had left about half way through his meal, and Jon was confident he gave up the track, knowing what he wanted to know.
Nick joined him and said, “You clock baldy? He was across the way when you love birds were getting along.”
Jon smirked, “Yeah. Railroad I bet. Stockton is one of their assets. That may even be his handler.”
Nick scoffed, “Not much gets past you partner. If you want to meet, they’re in the basement of the Old North Church, just south of here.”
Jon pondered, “They can simmer for a while. Have to make a run north, actually claim the two settlements I marked, scout Saugus, check for Gunner outposts.”
“Well, the BADTFL is just North, and still your turf. Near the next bridge across. Could cut straight across from there. You did negotiate free access.”
Jon said, “But as long as I’m not a dick about it. We can loop back around on the main road. They’ll be staffing that base, and I don’t want to just cut across it at an odd angle like that. Implies they can do the same things and I don’t want that. Any reason why?”
Nick said, “I’m looking for holotapes. Something I check for in places like the office, if they’re near by. About a man named Eddie Winters, king of the Boston underworld once upon a time.”
Jon chuckled, “Even I’ve heard of him.”
Nick smiled, “Listen to some tall ones while you were on a walk?”
Jon scoffed, “I found a couple tapes relating to him. One at Wicked Shipping, one in the police station.”
Nick said, “Well partner, I’d say we’re on the case then. What did you find?”
Jon coolly said as he lit a smoke, “A mystery, Detective. A mystery indeed.”
Nick snickered, “Jackass.”
Jon puffed, “It was something I wanted to stumble into. A fun little mystery that may or may not have a recorded answer. The tape at the shipping lot was about smuggling spent material for him. One wanted out of it, they shot each other like right before the bombs over it. No fucking clue why a mob boss would want material.”
Nick grimaced like he knew something, “Hmm, lucky bastards. So, you keep an eye out for more pieces to the puzzle along the way. Fair enough. What about the other tape?”
Jon said, “Telling someone they weren't getting a cut for a nearly botched job.”
Nick nodded, “The Fallon’s job. One got pinched, even if they got the gold.”
Jon said, “He had to be an informant. A mob boss doesn’t get that far by recording their criminal conspiracies.”
Nick spit, “And he’s arrogant. He wanted that material for radiation experiments.”
“Holy fuck. He’s a ghoul. He’s out there right now.”
“An irradiated rat in a hole, 200 years before it was vogue. Those tapes have the code for his bunker.”
“The Wicked Shipping one is useless. The other is at the station, so pick it up whenever. We’ll check for a holotape. I’ll probably want a border post at a place like that anyway.”
Nick smiled as they slowed to a safe distance down the main drag, “Thanks partner.”
Jon said, “So, the bombs are a hell of a lot for a pre-war grudge to survive, huh?”
Nick scoffed, then grimaced, “Nick had girl. Beautiful, innocent. Winters killed her personally. He even left his goddamned custom piece because he knew he would get it back from lockup. Nick’s memories, who he was, it kept me alive up here. Gave me purpose. I owe it to the man to track that bastard down and return the favor.”
Jon blood, “Blood for blood. I have your back partner. You’ll get what I find, and if you complete the puzzle, I’ll watch your six.”
Nick smiled, “Good. Let’s tour this ship. I remember seeing it sail in the bay every so often back before the war.”
The Constitution was 304 foot long, and carried 44 guns, 22 on each side. Most hatches however were battened down, with about 10 or so aiming down the street. Its still proud masts rose up at over 200 feet at the tallest, sails furled but ready at a moments notice. Jon could see the robot crew working away on the main deck, never tiring. There was a Mr. Gutsy guard standing at the far end of the drag, watching and waiting at the two on the wrong side of the Captain’s Line. The ship was well and truly lodged in the building, and by the looks of the ludicrous rockets they strapped to the thing, it flew into Weatherby Savings and Loan.
On above all Jon spied was no doubt the commander of the still proudly active warship. He eyed the sentry bot in a traditional captain’s hat. The sentry bot eyed the man in modern armor and fatigues with a proper service weapon in his hands, and just faintly he could render the dark star on his standard issued helmet.
The Captain took a risk. The man could be anyone. From what he looked, to a clean and lucky raider, to honeypot by the scavers. His position was untenable, and he most desperately required aid. His ship and crew depended on it. They may be on land, but the man eyed the ship like he knew what he was looking at. With respect. Perhaps he would be familiar with maritime customs and courtesies as well.
His eyes flashed, three times quickly, three times slowly, three times quickly again. He only had to repeat it once before a hand came up from the man and his companion. They started walking forward a moment later, but they weren't out of the woods yet.
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Jon walked up to the watchman hovering just behind a clearly marked line. Jon expected to still be challenged, so he stopped before the line. The Gutsy rocketed into his face. Jon didn’t flinch.
With a growling shout he said, “Analyzing pre-war records! None found! Analyzing post-war records! None found! Who the hell are you! A commie!?”
Jon said just loud enough for the Captain to hear, and the scavers hiding in the ruin down the street. He knew what they wanted, and they wouldn't have it. He said, “General Jon Singh! Commonwealth Minutemen!”
The captain interceded any response though the Gutsy’s comms with a colonial accent, “Stand down watchman. You may board General. Though the dingy around the stern.”
Having his rank acknowledged was certainly boded well. Nick and Jon worked their way around the rubble to the stern of the ship. The dingy lowered, and rose again past the perfectly maintained name on the back of the ship.
Jon could hear the Captain’s orders as they went up, “This is the Captain speaking. We’re taking on allies. disable defenses, make way men. Mr. Navigator, keep your eyes up. Have the crows nest scan two points off the port bow. Jump to it.”
Jon and Nick stepped on to the deck, and approached the sentry bot Captain. They both nodded in greeting. The Captain said, “Ah, the militia arrives in these most trying times to render aid to the Congressional Navy. We are honored, General. I am Captain Ironsides, and you stand upon the USS Constitution.”
Jon smiled, “The honor is mine, Captain. Its a credit to you and your crew that this ship is still operational and combat ready despite its circumstances. We’re actually a standing army now. Kept the name for traditions sake. Many died for it’s pre and post war iterations, and we honor their sacrifices.”
The Captain beamed, with it’s eyes getting a little brighter before fading. Jon had certainly won his respect form the word go. Nick had a constant smirk, finding traveling with the General one hell of a fun ride.
Ironsides had to know, “I am well aware of the current circumstances, and to my knowledge I am the highest ranking officer remaining in the Congressional Military. If the militia is becoming a standing force, then is the Government truly gone?”
Jon grimaced. Would he believe him? He said, “That's the bad part. It’s what I wanted to talk about. By my reckoning, you serve the US Navy, right? You call it by different nomenclature,”
“But indeed, it is the very same.”
Jon nodded, “The Government is still around. They call themselves the Enclave, and they no doubt existed as a deep state before the bombs fell. They are, technically, the successor to the American government. Nick?”
“Nick Valentine, Detective. They targeted their own people with bio weapons at least twice, and that's simply the worst of their crimes. Once 10 years ago in the capital, and once near 60 years ago in California. That was after experimenting with another bio weapon that got out and infected the wastes after the bombs. The second and third bio weapons of course targeted the first to wipe out any who aren’t pure, ie. not them. Only thanks to a few folks their plans failed.”
Ironsides turned red hot and then literally steamed, “My goodness those scalawags! Why, those are American citizens out there! It matters not their mutations! I and this ship hereby desert!”
“Complete and total abeyance of the Constitution of the United States. Every word. As far as I’m concerned there is no United States, and the Enclave will be eradicated where found. There is the SCPG, the Second Commonwealth Provisional Government, of which I am Military Governor. My intent is to build a civilian government, and eventually turn everything over to elected representatives before then resigning.”
Ironsides said, “Like Washington of old. Guide the state though it’s early years, and concede power peacefully to cement it. However, usually a Continental Congress is called for such matters. Washington was the antithesis of a dictator and he was appointed, both as Commander of the Continental Armies and President by Electoral College vote.”
Jon said, “That is a fair point, Captain. My response is the first time a Commonwealth Congress was called, talks dragged on for years and the Institute eventually assassinated the representatives, including General Cho. Unfortunately republicanism is untenable right now. Imagine if the Congress was stormed right before he was appointed. He was on the way in and avoided the raid. What would he do?”
“Much the same as you have done. Raise the armies and fight back, avenge their arrests and deaths, continue the revolution. Very well, General. But the Institute? CIT? I have heard pieces of the outside on the broadcasts, but not that specifically. Our communications are spotty.”
Jon nodded, “Pretty sure, yeah. CIT built their own bunker, and now they're terrorists and techno-slavers. What is your current mission?”
Ironsides said, “Before we deserted from the Congressional Navy, it was to harass Communist China, to continue the war effort. Of course any Canadians or Red Coats that make their presence known will taste our guns as well. Ah, to avenge the burning of our former nation’s capital would be a most sweet victory indeed.”
Jon snicked, “Indeed it would be Captain. How about a new mission? The Minutemen will need a Navy, if for no other reason to secure trade routes with new allies. I help you, you help me.”
Ironsides thought about it for a moment. Near all his life he served, and now what he served was never worth it to begin with. But the militia was a standing force now. They we’re going to revolt against any claims to govern them by tyrants who would rather kill them anyway. Just like their predecessors did so long ago.
“Captain Ironsides and the Constitution reporting for duty, sir. If you consult with the Bosun and Mr. Navigator, they will have a detailed summary of the repairs required. It is an honor the stand with the Minutemen and SCPG. Once again this fine ship will be the center of naval power.”
Jon smiled and nodded, “Welcome aboard, Captain. I’ll admit I wont actually have anything for you to do once we get you in the sea. Report to a dry dock somewhere we can clear out for further repairs and overhauls. Then patrolling the coast when that happens.”
“Your orders are my command General.”
Nick said, “I’ll volunteer of course. Civilian Contractor I think it’s called.”
Jon nodded, “Yeah, and here’s some caps. Should get some kind of fee since the cases we’re working are Pro Bono right now.”
Nick smirked as they went to their duties. Nick went below deck and talked to the Bosun, and Jon took to Mr. Navigator. He needed to talk to someone else first though. He clicked on the private frequency of his Pip-Boy, first tagging his location.
“Hey partner.”
“Yeah boss.”
“Need a handyman, swift as the wind.”
“Oh you got it boss. Partner out.” Jake said with an overly confident tone. Jon squinted. He would know when he knew.
He made way to the Navigator and said, “Mr. Navigator.”
The Navigator Handy snapped to attention, with salute and all, “General sir. I have a repair if you’re ready for it.”
“Indeed I am, Mr. Navigator.”
“Sir, we require the guidance chip returned to us. I am loath to admit the scavers made way with it upon the last attack.”
Jon asked, “How many attacks?”
“17 over the years sir. We take losses every time. They are salvaged for other crew, or the ship itself.”
Jon stood at silence a moment for the sacrifices of the crew, and Mr. Navigator matched it. Jon said, “I’ll get the chip back, hopefully without violence.”
“Very good sir. I await your return.”
“Attackers off the starboard side! Attackers off the starb-”
The cry of the Mr. Gutsy was cut off from concentrated gunfire. He wasn't even apart of the original crew, but stumbled on the ship during one of his routine patrols. The Captain being the highest ranking officer in the US Military that he knew of, the Gutsy readily accepted Ironsides commands.
The angle of the main deck was tilted slightly downward, but in a direction not conducive to cover, towards the main street. Jon shot behind the main mast, just as he was shot in the lower leg from the heavy fire coming in. It sucked, but caused no permanent harm, and only a slight limp as his flesh and bone bruise healed.
Caption Ironsides was undeterred. He stood proudly on his perch near the railing, firing away with his chain gun and rocket launcher as others of his proud crew joined the fray.
He said, “General! we have them suppressed, fire the main guns with the switch!”
Jon bolted from cover, trusting his Captain, and slid up to the switch under fire sticking across the deck and splintering wood. Previous bombardments had left good cover for an attacking force, close in, plenty of rubble. It also was right in line with the guns, and this batch of scavers that looked suspiciously like raiders didn’t think about that.
Jon flipped the switch and the still working main guns boomed into the street and surrounding buildings. The high explosive shells broke away more rubble, and what scavers didn’t die from the blasts were peppered with deadly or near deadly shrapnel. A couple made it relatively unscathed, but were gunned down by Jon and the rest of the crew. A few more shots was all it took.
Just then he heard why Jake was so confident. A vertibird was coming down the river. It was just a touch too slow for any action, and Jon was grateful for that. This was probably the first flight of the thing. Jon didn’t keep up with the status of that project, but he knew it was being worked on. He smiled as it continued its churn.
Ironsides said, “I detect injury, General. Do you require aid?”
Jon shook his head, “I can take a shot or two. You?”
“Always sir, but I make due. I heard you called for a handyman? Is that bird ours?”
Jon said, “I think, but be ready if it isn't. It may be Brotherhood, and they’re currently tentative allies. The Institute is our main enemy, and we have a blood feud with the Gunners.”
“Very good sir, I will keep my eyes open.”
Nick finally popped his head up, “We good up here? Sorry for missing all the fun. They said civilian contractors had to shelter in place by Captain’s orders.”
“Ah yes, an older policy. From when we sailed a touring circuit. It was always an active warship, and always had to be ready.”
Just as the vertibird was rounding the corner along the river, “And that means policy. That’s ours. Jake’s flying. They must have been working on Fort Starlight when I called”
Jake had the biggest shit eating grin Jon had ever seen. So did Jon. He only wondered how Maxson was reacting. The airship was in plain view with the right angle. He just wanted Sturgis to get here as soon as possible, but they got the thing flying with all the parts he found and could respond within minutes. His territory also saw their vertibird flying proudly for the first time. It lent credence to both the SCPG to them, and the threats to the Brotherhood to keep them in line. The blue paint and white coat of arms was a complete propaganda coup to anyone that saw, and Jon’s luck struck 10 again to just stumble into it like that.
Jon nearly melted when the vertibird lifted up over the masts, back down to the starboard side, and began dropping Minutemen out of the compartment, repelling from ropes. One in power armor, the T-45 plate from Concorde, was the first to drop and began securing the area for his comrades. It was a 6 man team. One in power armor with the PKM, three riflemen with combat rifles, Lt. Barr with an M2 musket, and one with the M-60 prototype.”
“General, your forces are top notch with an entrance like that. If I could tip my hat, sir, I would.”
Jon looked to him, “Crazy part is, all I had to do was blaze a trail. Clear out a few local holes to give people space to breath, show them their General was out there with them. They trained themselves basically. This has nothing to do with me.”
“They have done so admirably, sir.”
The team had secured the area, moving into side buildings where the raiders took cover to clear them, and Sturgis dropped down a moment later from the rope, A bag of parts and tools strapped to his back like he was always ready to respond to major emergency maintenance. After another moment Jake pulled the bird up again and flew away back down the river towards it’s home base.
Sturgis ran over the Gutsy and began inspection the frame. He shook his head after a moment of looking at it. Jon yelled out, “Hey Barr!”
“Yeah Sir?!”
“Who the fuck ordered you to just swing your dick around like that!?”
“Garvey sir! You wanted swift! He said take the bird!”
“That's a medal for every one of you! Perfect fucking insertion!”
“Yes sir! Sorry for missing the party!”
“For a show like that don’t worry about it! The lift is on the stern! The back!”
Ironsides said, “If I may sir, we have a stock of meritorious service medals.”
Jon beamed, “Outstanding Captain. Keep this up and you’ll be Admiral in no time.”
Ironsides laughed, “Please sir, do not wish such misfortune upon me. My place is on the deck with my men.”
Sturgis and Barr were carted up the stern and walked with smiles onto the main deck.
“Sturgis.”
“Detective, boss.”
“Sturgis, this is Captain Ironsides of the CSS Constitution. The first and newest warship in the Minutemen Navy. He commands the what is also the oldest still active warship in the world, and both are in dire need of maintenance.”
Sturgis smirked as he shook his head, “Boss, yet another goodie you found. Well I guess a lot of people knew about it, but you got on board. And now ol’ Sturgis is here. What a ride, Boss.”
Jon grinned, “We need to get her airworthy first, so she can get back to sea. Then we need a dock to berth her to make her seaworthy again, and giver her some modernization.”
“Not too much I hope, sir.”
Jon looked offended, “Wouldn't dare Captain. But she needs the rockets off, and at least one screw put on, probably two. Modern deck guns as well in her ports, machine gun emplacements, forward and rear guns, targeting suites. Maybe an internal secondary hull. But she’ll still be Old Ironsides. She just needs to be a little more than she was.”
“Ah, my Apologies General. You obviously have a vision, and you are right. I always privately wondered if she could handle the Red Menace. What we would see when we got there if they still had naval forces at all.”
Jon said, “Yet forward you sailed. That’s bravery my friend.”
Ironsides beamed again to the chuckles of the group. Sturgis said, “The dock is going to be near the Castle boss. They got all kinds. And the factory along with a fish packing plant. One of the things we talked about before the bad business. Problem is if Brotherhood decides its a good spot, because it is.”
Jon smiled, “Good thing I already claimed it, and that vertibird stunt all but enforced those and any other claims I made. Good fucking job Sturgis. Have you been getting paid?”
Sturgis smirked, “Yeah, Preston got all that stuff figured out. And it turns out one of the vault dwellers was a quartermaster apprentice, so it’s getting even easier on that front. With all the people? More caravans coming in? Things are looking up around a good chunk of the Commonwealth. Just got to get those Gunners out of the way. Don’t like havin to tiptoe in my own home boss.”
Jon had the courtesy to wince at least. It was a dig. Perhaps his con was too long. He said, “Yeah, sorry. Needed to make sure we were prepared for more than just a couple outposts, and built up some. Looks like we’re ready.”
“Shit, sorry boss, didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I get it, really. Sometimes you do got to tiptoe, and be all quiet like. Well, let me get to work, and you do what you got to do.”
Jon nodded as the man got to work. He said, “Nick?”
“Got some patching done down there. Had to jury rig one of the mains, but it worked, and the rest got replaced with spares. Sturgis is going to do an even better job. He fixed me up, and I haven't felt this good in years. Well, good for a mechanical man.”
“The joins don’t grind.”
“That man knows his servos.”
“General we found something!” One of his Minutemen yelled up, one of the women from the vault volunteers.
“I’ll keep at it, partner.”
Jon nodded and marched back to the dingy while Barr climbed up to the perch to take it with his musket. They all at least had scavenged and repaired army fatigues, most still stained and worn, if washed. They had their vault helmets, and the combat armor that came from their press. None were in proper uniform yet, but they certainly looked like a fighting force.
The vets taught their descendants well. The original four knew their shit from old Minutemen training and experience as mercs and part time adventures. And there it was, Jon thought. The looks in their faces as he passed, their stances, their determination to impress not only their general but anyone else watching. If Jon died they would carry on his ambitions, a functional state that shot for the stars.
He walked to the building that his Minutemen had called him from. She stood at attention, but did not salute, “Sir, there’s a chip in there, and a note for you I think.”
Jon raised an eyebrow, “I needed that chip, what’s the note say?”
“Not with us, sir. It didn’t say sir, but ah,”
Jon smirked, “I get it. They figured I would storm them after that attack, thinking it was them. They may have been right. Good work, take your position. Keep this perimeter secure.”
He walked in and picked up the chip. It was a small thing. It told Jon that their transistors were just beginning to get more advanced. Perhaps near the level he knew of. He also took an interest in computers as a kid, and would need to redesign the terminal into a full computer, with some kind of UNIX operating system. One was invented at the beginning of the war, Linux. He remembered the source code, but that was only glancing at it, never really having the time to analyst and play with it. He had little free time through the war and it spent on other things, usually actual rest and relaxation.
He walked back to the ship and rode up to the dingy. He approached Mr. Navigator, “I have the chip.”
Mr. Navigator swirled his arms in joy, now having so many things to be joyous for the first time in a long time. He said, “Excellent sir! The chip will need installed in the main guidance core, and then the radar itself will need repaired. If it can’t be, a new part might be acquired at a Poseidon facility.”
Jon nodded and got to work. He instilled the chip, replacing the blown one. He walked over the over main dish and opened it’s circuitry. It actually only need one capacitor, and his luck dictated that the blow chip still had some good parts, manly the same kind of capacitor.
He pulled the burnt one, breaking it off at the end of its leads as they entered the case, and jury rigged the good one in with some tape. He closed the hatch and reported his success to the Navigators continual joy. When he was done, Sturgis was talking to Ironsides.
Jon said, “How are we.”
Sturgis said, “Right as rad rain. We needed an FLL3 turbo pump bearing assembly, and we just happened to snag one from Hagan. Kept in my bag because that's a premo part that a lot of important stuff needs. They also had some field guns too with ammo to boot. Hell of a haul there boss.”
Jon’s grin was downright evil. Nukes, birds, guns, artillery, walking tanks. Combined arms. Did those Gunner fucks know anything about that? Did they need to so far? Did they have the resources for it like he was amassing?
Ironsides said, “After some final checks, we are ready to launch. We require only one final labor from our stalwart superior office. The auxiliary generator needs flipped on with the main breaker switch, across the street in the building.”
Jon nodded, “And that labor you’ll have. Fair winds and godspeed Captain Ironsides.”
“Thank you General, from the bottom of my central coolant pumps. I did not know what to expect when I first registered you, a trap perhaps, but this is more than we ever could have hopped for. Should the worst happen, it was an honor serving under you sir.”
“The honor is mine Ironsides. See you on the other side.”
Jon walked to the dingy while Sturgis and Nick worked on a final checklist. It was never going to truly be flight ready, but they could get it close. He took the lift down a final time, and corralled his troops into the building for cover. He didn’t need to tell them to set their positions. He simply waved them around and they followed their General. It would be to the gates of hell if that was where he had to go.
He knelt down beside the switch, eyeing every inch of his new ship, and hoping it made it though the ordeal. It was Old Ironsides, once the pinnacle of naval design. It would persevere as it always had, Jon knew.
He waited for Nick and Sturgis to make their way to him. Barr had also joined, finding the perch good for both watching the ship, and keeping the quadrant secure. Jon toggled the radio next to the switch, “You read me Ironsides?”
“I read you, General. We are ready to ride again! For the republic I say!”
“Launching in t minus 5-4-3-2-1 Brace brace brace.”
Jon flipped the switch, and the small generator fired. Jon tracked the sparking from the ratty line all the way into the ignition circuit for the rocket. A second later the warming rockets sparked hot with fire, and the ground rumbled in their wake. It shook bits of the bank away from hits side like barnacles from a long journey being knocked off in dock. The place began collapsing even more than it was with the force of the ship’s engines now pushing against it.
“Curse you Weatherby Savings and Loans! I spit at thee!” Ironsides cried over the radio.
Jon laughed as the ship finally began to shift and rise from its cursed mornings. Unseen and unheard by Jon was the wild screaming and cheering coming from the command deck of the Prydwen. Maxson was the loudest of them all, despite the pit he still felt realizing the General wasn't bluffing in the slightest after seeing the vertibird and expert insertion.
He would indeed have to tiptoe around the Minutemen and their General lest he brought a needless war upon his people that got too many of them killed. While the war again the Enclave wasn't needless, it was too costly. All anyone else on the command deck cared about now was the ship rising from its slumber. The man certainly could put on a show, Maxson conceded.
The ship rose higher and higher, and then began it’s forward momentum towards the sea, “Come on.”
It continued its rise and forward acceleration, “Come on Ironsides”
Then he spotted the problem. A minute shift in it’s trajectory, because of a minute ding from a minute loose part that peeled off due to the force of the flight. Jon spied the change in course immediately, and now his only hope that that the ship could crash straight.
He immediately toggled the radio, “Land ahead, I repeat land ahead, Brace brace brace.”
“I see it, General. Batten down the hatches! Furl the sails and prepare to cut the engines! Brace for impact men!”
A small change became a large once as the ship’s path formed an arc. Jon let out a breath when he saw the ship would crash in the center of the building face, and not the side where it would deflect off and crash below. The Constitution finished it’s last fight when it plowed straight though the top of the building, carving the construction with it’s wake. Ironsides was on the ball, and precise timing cut the engines. Friction did the rest to bring the ship to a full halt.
Still unseen and unheard were some boos, dejected yells, cajoling, but then the clapping and cheering for the oldest warship in the world taking flight, and surviving to tell the tale. Maxson could only shake his head with a grin, hands clasped behind him. Welcome to the Commonwealth indeed.
Nick burst out, knowing things that others don’t as he usual does. He said, “That building is the HQ for the Weatherby Investment Trust!”
None could help their merry laughter.