Chapter 24: Shot in the Face
Jon murdered to himself as he and Piper washed their mess kits, “Now I hope you like the taste of lead you commie sum bitch.”
He threw up a lazy finger gun to Piper’s outburst. She said, “That was such a stupid line. Like totally out of place.”
Jon shrugged, “Government propaganda. The studio probably shoehorned it in at the last second. Now I hope you like the taste of lead you commie son of a bitch. Hmmm. Should I add the Mexican eulogy line?”
Piper had to catch her self again, “Are you practicing blue? You gonna say the line?”
Jon smirked, still lopsided but certainly better than before after his seven days of rest, “Among other things when I shoot that fucking dickhead Director in the face, yes.”
Piper said, “Ohhh man. They really got it coming. They always have, but you're the one man they couldn’t kill blue.”
Jon looked deeply into her eyes, “Thanks. For being there. I wouldn't have made it without the people around me. I love you, Piper.”
She leaned in kissed him, “I love you too, blue. So I kind of have something, and we’re about to leave so it can’t be put off, but I don’t know if it’s some kind of a sick joke.”
“Please for the love of Q tell me it’s a pirate joke and you have an eye patch.”
She giggled and pulled one out of her pant pocket. It was finely crafted brahmin leather, hand stitched along the edge. It had two straps. One wrapped over his forehead at an angle and continued down to under his ear, and the second went over his ear and attached to the first strap at the back of his head.
Jon put it on and Piper said, “That one came from Old Man Stockton. Brahmin leather, brahmin baron.”
Jon asked, “How do I look? Less like pirate and more like wasteland warlord?”
She apprised, “Definitely more warlord. It looks great blue. Let’s go, they’ve been really hounding me to see you.”
Jon once again donned his Minuteman uniform. There had been more than enough time to pass for the set to be cleaned and repaired, and for his hemp plants to really start flowering, he noticed. They could have been harvested for their industrial uses weeks ago. He had no clue of the goings on outside his station. Piper kept everyone away, and he upheld his bargain to do little more than lay in bed. After some careful explanation, Piper did accept light physical and mental exercises. He still never went outside.
The fresh breeze completed his healing process. His hair was longer, the back pulled back into a tail, and his now grown beard was kept trim by piper in his comma. Why he didn’t pick up his helmet, after what happened? He didn’t know, but the helmet not helping anyway had something to do with it. He was just taking a walk around for some reports.
They took down the main road, Dogmeat with them this time, and eventually got to Concorde in about a half an hour. As he did people in the streets stopped and took notice, then they cheered. The town had many more residents in it than Jon saw previously. It was now in a process of reconstruction and growth. A couple hundred now called the place home, with more coming in here or there every day. The main street down to Jake’s shop filled with whoever was there. He also noticed damage and bullet holes certainly not from the original fight for the town. Jon smiled, he waved at the crowd, and above all he felt awkward.
Piper thankfully broke in, “Got a shop of my own with a printing press here now. Just a little garage off one of the alleys. The Ron found the location of Boston Bugle, and Nicky took me. They had a bunch in the basement.”
Jon said, “That’s great. I didn’t notice Nat’s bunk in the garage. She just move in?”
Piper said, “Yeah, basically. You got shot in the face, an all”
There was something unsaid there, but Jon gave her space. As the crowd dispersed and they walked into Jake’s shop, he said, “Give her my apologies. For getting shot in the face. Cowpoke. Haylen.”
They both lit up as they saw Jon. Haylen said, “General! Good to see you!”
“I agree, slick. You’re one hard ass, you know it?”
Piper agreed as well, and showed it with a grab, to Jon’s indignant look and smile. He said, “Yeah, happens when you get shot in the face and live to tell about it.”
Jake chuckled, “You’re never going to shut up about that, are yah slick.”
Jon scoffed, “Would you?”
Jake shook his head. Haylen whispered, “Between you me and the fence post, the Elder likes to talk up his own war stories. They’re all true, but so is you getting shot in the face. He’s like a death claw playing with his food. He knows we have to stand there and listen, smile, at the same story he told 100 times at the rec.”
Jon chuckled, liking the Elder that much more. He said, “So, Minister, I assume our relations with the Brotherhood haven't deteriorated.”
Jake said, “Indeed they haven't General. If fact I think they’ve only gotten better, darlin?”
Haylen smiled, and Jon smirked. She said, “Well I was getting set up for the technical stuff, plus the work we did earlier in the day, and we were able to read the Institutes transport signals much better than we have ever had been able. We noticed something a little later, after the fact. Jake?”
Jake said, “As yah see, slick, we got the com-hubs jury rigged together. The interface and the good parts form the original, what we needed to replace from the copy. Now this thing is as much a main frame as communications hub, and it can analyze any signal it can pick up. Darlin?”
Haylen was positively giddy, “We found a match when we just put a bunch of broadcasts though it to see what it spit out. The same signal as the transport burst, but using a carrier wave. The classical radio station. It’s the Institutes broadcast! They just have to turn it on, and they can zero in on anywhere. That's how they do it.”
Jon nodded, “Send an agent, like a courser on a suicide run, he flips a radio on at low volume so no one notices.”
Jake finished, “And he gives the signal right as he makes his run on you.”
Jon huffed, “I haven't gotten any word about the attack yet, so don’t spoil my day. How can we stop them? Is there a way to jam?”
Jon had his answer when he saw Jake and Haylen’s shark smiled. Jake said, “That’s the thing slick, this com-hub is fully functional, and got the Institutes signal in high definition. Anywhere we got connected ASAM’s, we can block it between there and here. Even save it in the local firmware in case the signal gets disrupted, so you still have protection in the settlements. Not to tiptoe towards ruining your day yet, but we figure that’s why they attacked here and none of the other settlements. They were after the com-hub, not just ASAMs.”
Jon nodded, “Either because they knew what we could do with it, or because they didn’t want us to have any advanced tech, no matter what it is.”
Haylen winced a bit, “Can I be frank, General?”
Jon’s good eyebrow rose a bit, “I take it you’re alone here.”
Haylen nodded, “Yeah, if you haven't noticed Jake and I are a thing. And the work we do together, it was all approved by the Elder. Anyway, doing this work, actually sharing knowledge, helping people, it’s what I signed up to do. What Lyons did. You’re probably the only man that could have swayed us back in that direction. Thanks, I guess. For making the Brotherhood live up to something more than the pursuit of tech. You basically dying in front of Maxson for what you believed in had an effect, even more that you were having already.”
Jon smiled. He was just doing his job. A lot of people would thank him, he would have to thank a lot of people. It would be a whole campaign tour, basically. He would take it as it came.
He said, “The General leads the way, and that includes in getting shot in the face for the cause.”
Haylen and Jake laughed, and Piper groaned. Jon said, “Thanks for the update. I’ll leave you two. Good fucking work.”
With some waves, Jon, Piper and Dogmeat walked down the road towards Fort Starlight. As they neared the place was much more complete, and the robot work crews now no longer worked at all hours. The holes in the palisade, and other non-critical scars of war were displayed proudly. Fort Starlight stood. As they came down the wooded hill overlooking the place, he saw a patrol walking away towards Lexington. He saw one coming towards Concorde as well, and he met their raided fists and chants.
“No more!” They cried.
“Never again!” He responded.
They continued their march until Jon once again stood in front of the main gate. Any along the wall saw his approach, and called out that the General was on his way. However, nothing was official until the gate keeper had made her challenge.
She had a shit eating grin as she made it, “Halt! Who goes there!”
Jon met it with a warm smiled, “General Jon Singh, Commonwealth Minutemen!”
The cheers of the fort spread like wildfire as the gate was flung open for him. They never stopped as he walked in with Piper and Dogmeat. He stood for a moment and took the sight of his proud Minutemen in with his good eye.
He looked to Piper and she said, “I’ll be around, blue. I see Daley coming out all menacing like.”
Jon smiled as she zipped away, and he snapped a finger for Dogmeat to follow her. He gave a huff, but Jon’s eye put him on her trail. He didn’t know how he would react if she got popped, and he didn’t want to find out.
Daley finally walked up and snapped to attention, “Sir.”
Jon smiled, “Daley, how the hell are you?”
Daley met it, “Good sir. Better than you getting shot in the face, I reckon.”
Jon chuckled, “What? Getting shot in the face is my idea of a fun time Sergeant.”
Daley met it again, “Different idea of fun sir. Colonel Garvey is in the office. Fair warning, he needs a cane now.”
Jon grimaced but nodded and followed Daley into the admin building and up the stairs to the office. Preston was in his seat but wobbled up as soon as he saw Jon on the way up. He braced himself with his cane as he stood. He was wearing his blue duster again, instead of normal kit.
Jon waved him off, “At ease Colonel. Take your seat. Dismissed Sergeant.”
“Sir” was all he said as he snapped and turned on his heel.
Jon slowly walked up as Preston slowly sat back down. Preston said, “You sure sir, this is your chair. Told you, I just keep it warm.”
Jon gave him an eye, and Preston nodded with a smile, “Yes sir. Damn good to see you back up General.”
Jon said as he took a seat across from him, “Good to be up, Garvey. What happened to you.”
Preston said, “The Institute likes to use cyro ordinance. I took one responding to Concorde after we defended the fort. My leg is mostly healed up, but it’s gonna be bum for the rest of my life baring some medical miracle tech we take from them when we return the favor. I’m still in the game though, General. Just can’t take to the field like I used to.”
Jon smiled dryly, “The price of war. What happened in general.”
Preston nodded, “Yeah. Well, as you know you got shot in the face.”
Jon smiled stupidly and spoke stupidly, “I got shot in the face. Did you know that?”
Preston scoffed, “Never gonna shut up about that, and I don’t blame you cause I wouldn’t either. It was a coordinated attack. The courser was one of the volunteers. We don’t think they replaced anyone to pull it off. No one noticed anything different about him once we had a chance to question people. We just let him right in.”
Jon grimaced, “The only other option is me smelling every recruit and executing synths.”
Preston said, “And you won’t do that, I know. I’m sure you stopped on the way past, but Jake and Haylen have a jamming solution if you didn’t.”
Jon nodded, “I did. I got a quick civilian report, now I’m here for a more comprehensive military report. What I know is what I heard on the radio, I was still alive, and the Minutemen were still fighting.”
Preston both smiled and grimaced at the same time, “Gonna be honest General, if you didn’t give that speech right before, we probably would have broke then and there. I nearly broke. That was the first time I think everyone really knew the score. That we were doing something more than just responding to settlements.”
Jon said, “That’s why I gave the speech. Hype myself up as much as them, and you. I was tearing myself apart over the plan, if it would work.”
Preston said, “No plan survives enemy contact, sir. That’s one the Minutemen knew for a while, and a Brotherhood codex lesson.”
Jon lit a smoke and offered one to Preston. It was the first time he had one in over three weeks, and he savored every puff as he spoke, “So, the Second Battle of Lexington and Concorde.”
Preston grinned as he puffed, “Brotherhood helped us out with a little history they had, plus what you said. So that’s what we called it. 512 years later. The Institute came in hot and heavy with their gen one’s and twos, a couple coursers to lead them. They popped inside and outside the base. If we just had muskets, it would have been a slaughter.”
Jon said, “You couldn’t fire fast enough.”
Preston nodded, “Almost ran out of bullets by the end of it all. Like I said, hot and heavy. Me, the officers, Sergeants, and the Elder rallied everyone up and pushed back. It was still fucking chaos, but Maxon ordered in a full Brotherhood assault force. Man, seeing those birds come in just as hot? It was another thing that kept us from breaking.”
Jon had to know, “How many casualties.”
Preston grimaced, “Because of the surprise, almost 40 dead and double that wounded once the defense and Sucker Punch finished. The saving grace is that a lot of the wounds weren’t permanent like mine. Other than their ordinance, Institute weapons aren’t as powerful as military hardware. We had plenty of armor, and the fatigues are pretty sturdy. One thing Maxson pointed out, and I agree with, while the close quarters helped them, it also helped us. If they caught us out in Lexington, spread out, then we probably would have gotten tore apart even more than we already did.”
Jon nodded, “Kellogg would have made that decision. Eggheads or lone operatives think everyone in one place, one place to kill them all. We could concentrate our firepower as much as they could, and our bullets were better than their lasers from what I gather.”
Preston said, “Yes sir. Also better training and tactics, like basic cover usage.”
Jon chuckled and said, “So, Sucker Punch still went?”
Preston nodded, “When we cleared the fort, Concorde was also under attack. The irregulars were led by Jake and held the line for us to deal with our own shit and get there to help. We had Minutemen and Brotherhood dropping off both our birds. At the same time the Gunners made their move.”
Jon scoffed, “Coincidence?”
Preston shrugged, “Don’t really know sir. It’s likely they were working together, or just as likely they wanted the com hub too and moved on their own. Malden had made a move, as did the interchange. The interchange got harassed the whole way and ran into second company. Malden didn’t send that big of a force and ran into Brotherhood gunships. I think they were already committed when Maxson called in the cavalry, or they wouldn’t have tried. So, after about five hundred scrapped synths, we just kept going. Between the both of us, took the freeway posts, sieged Malden, second company drove all the way to the interchange, and after Malden surrendered what was left of first and third company joined the Brotherhood in their attack on Hub City.”
Jon’s smile was evil as he muttered, “That was for Quincy motherfuckers.”
Preston matched it, “Damn straight sir, and we’ll get back there too.”
Jon asked, “So Malden surrendered? Didn’t even try to wait the siege?”
Preston said, “Yeah, another thing I was getting too. The commander of that post was Captain Algernon. He sent Gunner loyalists on the attack he was ordered to carry out. He actually wanted to surrender to you, but he had to deal with me being carried into the vault entrance. Curie was still floating around and grumbling about the cleanliness of the room.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Jon nodded, “Interesting. I would have forced him to surrender to a private under threat of impending death, but fair enough. I was practically dead, and you were in command. So I take it Proving Ground actually came after?”
Preston said, “Yeah. About a week for us to take stock. We got a shit ton of new volunteers from everywhere. Gave them a few days of training, then completed the op as it was intended, with a larger Brotherhood presence in tow. The Gunners are prisoners of war. At first, we took all their guns and kept a guard on the vault door, then they got moved into Lexington Apartments. On work details now.”
Jon nodded wishing they were simply executed as war criminals, but happy his Minutemen didn’t cross that tenuous line in his absence, “Good. What was the Gunner response to all this?”
Preston said, “They tried to send a relief force to the interchange, but they didn’t last long against second company with the high ground. For now they’re holed up in Quincy, GNR, Greentech last I knew, and probably one or two other places. We kneecapped those fuckers. We also got a defensive line running across the freeway from the interchange. They’re in the extreme south, and we got a good bit of distance.”
Jon nodded, “And that freeway runs right along the edge of south Boston. The perfect fucking spot for it.”
Preston smiled, “I knew you’d like it.”
Jon said, “What else have you been doing?”
Preston said, “Securing what we have, getting settlements and posts behind our lines set up. Almost half the commonwealth by landmass. We were hoping you got back up before continuing the charge.”
Jon gave him and eye, and Preston defended himself, “You said what you said, sir. That you could theoretically heal from something like that. We got together, and decided to give you a month before I took the star. Well, three weeks and here you are.”
Jon conceded, “Kept you waiting, huh? You did make a wise decision in slowing down to secure what you took. Usually, it’s better to keep up the attack, but only like 7 times out of 10. It’s a good officer that knows when to continue and when to quit.”
“Thank you, sir. We’ve also been dealing with rogue robots att-”
A masshole interrupted Preston’s sentence as he burst in the room, “Fucking, fucking, cock sucking! Fucking brahminshit commie fucking fucks!”
The masshole kicked a chair at the communications desk, “goddamned, mother fucking, cunt fucking ROBOTS! You will not BELIEVE the bullshit I just had to deal with! FUCK!”
Preston was not pleased, “Captain Barr.”
Jon was, “Please have a seat.”
“Fucking thanks general. Real polite. Where was the goddamned fucking Silver Shroud when you need him, to fight his mortal fucking foe the Mechanist, huh? Oh wait, let me guess, YOU’RE the Shroud, and it’s just my shitty fucking luck you get shot in the fucking face, huh?”
Preston was still displeased as Jon laughed at the Captain’s misfortune. He said, “Captain, you are obviously going through some shit, so just give me the quick and dirty.”
“Oh, I’ll get real quick and fucking dirty, Sir. While you were on your ass I was fighting like a million fucking robots!”
“Captain Barr!”
“Preston, I’m quite enjoying this.”
“Yes sir.”
“Continue, Captain.”
The Captain had lost some of his steam, and he huffed in a deep breath as Jon offered him a smoke. He puffed, “Sorry, sir. Good to see you up. We got a distress call from a caravan near Bunker hill, responded, found a bunch of robots fighting the caravan’s bot, ADA. Basically, we followed the leads and found the Mechanist, like the character.”
Jon said, “Okay, a villain usually. So, did you kill them and take their shit? Sounds like they would have a lot of good shit.”
Captain Barr huffed again, “No, sir. That's the thing, and why I’m so pissed off. I couldn’t even kill the bitch, because she thought she was actually helping people. That her bots were helping people. Their program went haywire.”
Jon snorted, “Of course the best way to help us is to kill us all, right?”
Barr matched it, “Yes sir. Anyway, she was just a kid really. Broke up bad about it when she realized her program was off. She gave over her stuff and offered to help the Minutemen. Had a full manufacturing and bot repair facility. The kid is a wiz.”
Jon nodded approvingly, “Good job Captain. Take a three-day pass. Dismissed.”
He swept up from his chair and began storming out as his hands came up, “Oh mother fucker. So I can fight a million fucking death claws this time!? THANKS GENERAL!”
Jon chuckled and Preston was still scowling. Jon said, “Lighten up Colonel, and take no action against that man. Special forces that aren't rebels and rule breakers aren't special forces. Not good ones at least.”
Preston nodded, “Yes sir. Sorry. Just been at it a while. Then he comes in here disrespecting you like that…”
“Like I didn’t literally die for the Minutemen after getting shot in the face. I know. It’s fine. When we’re done, Take some rest yourself. If you've done your job, you have, then this will all run without you for a couple days.”
Preston nodded, and nearly looked relieved to be ordered to some time off. He said, “Yes sir. What else.”
Jon said, “How many Minutemen do we actually have?”
Preston smiled, “Near 600, more coming in every day. I got them pretty spread out though.”
Jon smiled at the small army. He said, “Focus on augmenting existing companies before you form new ones. Take them up to 150, with support weapons, and junker platoon in each company. Piece by piece we will augment the companies until they become battalions that can operate independent of one and other. Those will become brigades, then divisions. How many companies, five-six?”
Preston smiled coyly, “I already brought the idea up. Well not that specifically, but how they organized the army back in the day. Daley suggested to expand the existing companies. We have four currently.”
Jon returned it, “Spin up a filth dedicated to armor and motorization. It’s going to suck for them, but break up second company for cadre. Their unit has their history, not them individually. Remind them if they complain, and give them a citation in whatever record you have of those things. As you know, I’m not much for paperwork, and that hasn't changed after getting shot in the face.”
Preston scoffed, “They already got a citation. We’ll get a filth company spun up. Something I was already thinking about. If you want to take a walk, Sturgis is working at Corvega with some Brotherhood. I did guarantee they’d get some of the output, and from what Barr said, we aren't going to hurt for it.”
Jon got up and motioned for Preston to stay down, “Thanks Preston. I wanted to go there anyway. Enjoy your leave, or try to at least.”
Preston gave him a smile as he turned to exit the building. Piper was hounding Daley, and he caught her eye and motioned her out with him. Daley took a deep breath and gave a thankful nod and casual salute to Jon.
Piper beamed as Jon said, “You like fucking with him.”
She shrugged as they walked towards Lexington, “He’s fun to fuck with. Only talking to me because of your orders and has a lot of good quotes in that head of his.”
Jon said, “He’s old school army. Even where I’m from they didn’t like the press. He probably had it beat into him to not talk to journalists, especially during a war. Loose lips sink ships. Literally.”
Piper said, “You seem to be fine with it.”
Jon said, “Because you’re my Piper, and we need the propaganda. The Minutemen are out there, and we need people to know about them, who they are. I need bodies, volunteers, and settlers to know they have an army defending them behind our lines. I need them to know the Brotherhood are our allies, and they'll be defended behind theirs. The best propaganda to achieve that is right now the total truth.”
Piper was skeptical, “And if it isn't, blue? You know me.”
Jon smirked. He did, and that’s why she was his Piper, “I don’t know. It won’t be my problem at that point. What I can give you, is a quote.”
She got out a mock pen and paper, “Hit me blue.”
Jon said, “From Winston Churchill, Prime Minister of the British Empire during WWII, In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies. Then I’ll give you a story.”
She wrote a bit, “Interesting quote, contradictory. What’s the actual scoop?”
Jon couldn’t help his light chuckle, “A Congressman in the United States during the same war bragged to the press about how much better their submarines were. Literally how deep they could go compared to how deep Japanese depth charges were set. The press reported it verbatim.”
She stopped her sarcastic writing, “Oh, loose lips sink ships.”
Jon nodded, “And it wasn't even a matter of more assholes in a war full of them dying. Your history is the same as mine up to that point. The US, those submariners that died because of him, were attacked unprovoked by Japan. The US was fighting some of the worst criminals in human history up to that point. They weren't exactly good guys, but they didn't use children for target practice.”
She said, “Fuck blue, that’s raider shit. Enclave shit. I guess we always think the pre-war was this civilized place, and then the bombs dropped. It was somehow better. I guess it’s just a dream.”
“You have to be asleep to believe it.”
Piper scoffed, “Yeah, the bombs didn’t just drop out of nowhere. Thanks for the existential crisis blue. Real romantic you are.”
Jon scoffed as they were stopping near a work detail, “The truth Piper. The question is if you can handle it.”
He worked his way up to a small pipe of rubble, and the small work crew of Gunners and their Minuteman guards looked to him. He said, “General Jon Singh, Commonwealth Minutemen.”
The Minutemen cheered before he continued, “Where’s Algernon.”
One spoke up, “The factory.”
Jon nodded, “Give that woman double rations tonight.”
The Minutemen snapped quickly to a casual attention to acknowledge his order before returning to their guard duties. He stepped back down, and Piper said, “Mind if I pester some Gunners?”
There was malice in Jon’s responding smile, and that's all she needed to know. He once again snapped for Dogmeat to follow her. He squealed and Jon got down on his knee to scratch his ear. He said, “She’s important to me. I need you with her. Can’t lose her pal.”
Dogmeat huffed indignantly but carried out his duties all the same. As Jon was walking away, he heard, “So, why did you kill all those innocent folks in Quincy?”
He scoffed as he took though the streets towards Corvega. The streets were broken, but also crawling with work crews and bots, with Minutemen guarding and patrolling. Every once in a while a shot would go out, no doubt from stray ferals that didn’t get found yet. As he got closer to the factory block by block, Brotherhood were also in the streets, often time standing by Minutemen. He gave more nods and waves than he cared to give. There were many good reasons he didn’t want to be General forever, and the workout his neck and shoulder were getting were some of them.
There were steps up the base of the lot to the factory sat on, and he traversed them before walking up to the main office door. More Minutemen and Brotherhood stood guard, and on the catwalks above them. More nods, more waves, then he finally entered the plant, and had already found his targets. They had obviously set up the reception room as a main staging and planning center for the repair efforts.
Sturgis was going over details both with Brotherhood personnel, and Algernon. He was an older man, a hardened veteran of war. If he sent out a token attack, and then surrendered immediately, it was for some reason and not just because he knew he was defeated. Jon met his eye for a moment as Sturgis caught up.
The Brotherhood took notice as well and gave a final nod that they would continue the plan they were just talking about. Jon walked up and said, “Dismissed Algernon. I’ll find you later.”
He snapped to attention before walking away, “General.”
Sturgis smiled warmly, “Heeyy, good to see yah bossman. How you holding up?”
Jon met the smile, “Well, for getting shot in the face.”
Sturgis chuckled, “I would never shut about it if I survived something like that.”
Jon said, “Trust me, I won’t. How’s the plant?”
Sturgis said, “Suffering from two hundred years of dis and mis-use, but we’re putting her back together. Got one line up, and we’re fixing the others before a full start up. The Brotherhood’s been a big help.”
Jon figured that would be the case, “And the Gunners?”
Sturgis grimaced, “Don’t much like the idea of working with them, but that’s just a personal gripe. Algernon is actually a decent guy, and most of them were goddamned conscripts. People they press ganged from the wastes.”
Jon said, “Add it to the pile of ‘there’s more going on here’ evidence. Anything you need from me?”
Sturgis smiled, “Nope, right as rad-rain boss. You did want this whole deal set up so it would run without you, and it did. We’re plugging along. One we get this place set up, then the real work in the city begins.”
Jon nodded with a smile, “Good. When I look at this city, I see a purpose-built capital.”
Sturgis made a show of pondering for a bit, “Yeah, yeah. I think I see it too, boss. From what the Brotherhood said, that’s what the Capital was set up like when they built it way back in the day. I’ll talk to them.”
Jon nodded as he went back past the door into the offices for the plant. Algernon was towards the back of the small hall, where it split off and entered the plant proper. Jon finished his walk and gave him an eye, which Algernon met for a moment before breaking it in shame.
Jon said, “You are lucky, my friend, that I got shot in the fucking face. I would have put a bullet in you like the war criminal you are, before maybe sparing your men, the conscripts at least. You certainly wouldn’t have surrendered to anyone of rank, and certainly not to me. You would have surrendered without honor to my fucking dog.”
He had no reaction for a moment before speaking, “It would have been justified. The Gunners used to have a code, honor.”
Jon shook his head, “Not anymore. Why did the Gunners attack Quincy.”
He said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t involved in that operation.”
Jon scoffed, “Bullshit. A man your age, what passes for a high-ranking officer in the wastes?”
Algernon shook his head, “I don’t. Wes didn’t trust me. I came back from a long retirement.”
Jon scoffed again, “Not enough war crimes on your conscious? Had to come back for one last ride?”
Algernon met his eye angerly this time, “I sent those men knowing they would die. So they would die. I told them they were a scout force, and we would be behind them once they got eyes on the target. They may have been loyal to the Gunners, but they were under my command, and I killed them.”
Jon didn’t care, “And if you had any stone you would have fucking executed them before following any order to attack a civilian town, in any capacity. If a crazy fucking robot that was programmed to serve the US military could desert after hearing of his government’s crimes once, what does that say about you?”
Algernon held his head low again, “That I’m a naive coward. I came back because I saw where the Gunners were going. I thought I could use my experience and popularity to influence things back in a better direction. All I could do was slow Wes down. After Quincy, I was caught in the trap. If I quit, they would come after me. If we deserted, the entire force would come down on us in addition to loyalists in the company. Most of my people were conscripts that didn’t have much fight in them to begin with.”
Jon said, “A prisoner’s dilemma doesn’t absolve you. I was 16, fucking 16, when I made a choice. To kill my officer, my own men, wage a world fucking war against my brothers and sisters rather than blow up an innocent school. Why were you after Jake?”
Algernon huffed. He believed the kid. A better man than I, he thought. He said, “Past the obvious? The ASAMs? We lack reliable communications, and it puts a hard limit on how much we can control. That's all they care about anymore. I was given an order to attack Concorde and take Jake and the com hub. I had only heard about the com hub then, but obviously it was for improving our communications.”
Jon said, “Were you coordinating with the Institute?”
Algernon shrugged, “I don’t think so. We knew about the Institute burst signals, that they could appear almost anywhere. I think dots connected, and Wes tired seized the opportunity. I planned to abandon the loyalists and surrender when you pushed them back. Then the Brotherhood showed up in force, and you both took us to town. I do know you dealt near irreparable harm to our Commonwealth operations.”
Jon said, “Near. Will they have a relief force on the way?”
Algernon nodded, “For certain. When it gets here, I don’t know. It would need time to collect and plan. A month at least, probably closer to three to four.”
Jon smiled evilly, “You Gunner fucks don’t know what war is. They’ll learn when they get here.”
Algernon grimaced, “Who are you? We couldn’t find anything about you except that you were the General. No history, no one that knew you beforehand. It’s like you just showed up one day and started killing.”
Jon kept his smile, “A superior man, with the ambition to match, that the Gunners stand in the way of. Who are you working for?”
Algernon shrugged, “Again, I don’t know. Only Wes is privy to that information. By following their directives we’ve become very powerful. We’ve been on their payroll for years at this point. The Gunners of today are a result of them, whoever they are.”
Jon had an idea. It started with E, and ended with e. he said, “One last thing, was there a Malcolm in that scout force?”
Algernon scowled, “No, and if you find him, give him my regards. He’s Wes’s personal attack dog. A thorn in my side the entire time.”
Jon nodded, “I’ll leave you to your detail. If I hear of one single issue from the POW’s, you’ll be the one to pay for it.”
He nodded, “With my life. I understand.”
Jon didn’t care for his deference, so he simply turned and walked deeper into the plant. He was pleased that they place was now mostly clean, the junk and rubble picked up, the signs of raider activity wipped away. As he passed though one of the many sections of the plant in a darker and sparser area, a voice called from behind him.
“General.”
Jon already had his Singer out, not falling for it a second time. Deacon replied, “Oh shit, sorry man. Should have thought that one through, since that's exactly how you got shot in the face in the first place.”
Jon smiled as he put his singer down. He said, “Yeah, shot in the face and whatnot. How’s things?”
Deacon nodded, “Hell of a lot better General. I just want to say, our mutual friends consider it a personal failing letting a courser get so close to you. That’s something we really should have kept from happening.”
Jon smiled, “Most want to thank me for getting shot in the face, our friends are the first to apologize.”
Deacon scoffed, “Yeah, like I said, their bad.”
Jon said, “Don’t worry about it. Just learn from your mistakes. I don’t blame you. I blame myself for feeling secure when I shouldn’t have. Of fucking course the Institute was going to get one in my ranks when I didn’t even try to weed them out.”
Deacon said, “Thanks for that. This whole deal really has been a fucking Christmas present.”
Jon said, “You’re welcome. Did you do your thing?”
Deacon said, “Hell yeah. Barr was a champ. It was the old DIA HQ, and they’re even thinking about spinning it up again now that it’s got two armies and some jamming on top of it.”
Jon said, “Do it.”
Deacon smiled, “Yeah, your angles. On it boss.”
Jon asked, “And how do our mutual friends feel about our other not so mutual friends.”
Deacon smirked, “A little more mutual. Our friends pulled their weight during the attack. It lead to a heart to heart between Maxson and a certain courser we all know and love. Not the one that shot you in the face, obviously. They really did unite the entire wasteland against them taking that run at you. People had real hope for the first time in a while and they tired to blow it away again. Even if you died you’re just a martyr, hell you’re a living one right now. They eye patch by the way? Fucking bad ass dude.”
Jon gave a half grin like most of his smiles and grins. His facial control wasn't all there, and probably never would be again. He said, “Thanks. I’m even practicing a line when I return the favor. Now I hope you like the taste of lead you communist sum bitch.”
Jon put up a lazy finger gun and Deacon couldn’t help his outburst, “Oh man. That was like so fucking out of place, but a great line by itself. You going to include the Mexican eulogy?”
Jon said, “Probably not. That would make even less sense in this context. Anything else our friends need from me? Perhaps you should go make a more regular report.”
Deacon grinned, “We’re good boss. Just keep doing what you're doing. We stepped up our game to keep the infiltrators out, so no worries there. And you’re right, if we’re being honest that’s probably what lead to their failures, me dicking around when it came to you. I knew for a minute that we should have had you protected, but I just couldn’t stop watching what you got up too to actually pass the word. So sorry again.”
Jon shrugged, “Shit happens. I'm still alive. If I was dead then it wouldn't matter either. See you around.”
Deacon nodded and faded back into the shadows of the plant. Jon could of course still clock him, but if he were a normal man it would have been a moment. Jon snickered as he walked away, and he also heard Deacons snicker as well. He eventually found himself in the final assembly bay, that also contained the master controls and office for the plant supervisor. He smiled at Strong who was lifting half finished useless cars along with four other super mutants.
He walked up, and Strong noticed and nearly jogged up with a smile. He slapped Jon’s shoulder hard, and he almost lost his footing from it. Strong said, “Knew leader was strong. See? Tiny metal men can’t kill leader.”
The other super mutants nodded in agreement after seeing their leader for the first time. Jon smirked, “Found some brothers.”
Strong nodded, “They Un-der-stand. Humans and super mutants stronger together. Most say humans made brothers, so deserve to die by brothers. Only some did. Most humans hate humans that did.”
Jon asked, “Do you know who made you? I have a good idea.”
“In-sti-tute. Re-mem-ber white wall, white coat. Human with arms and legs spread on it.” One replied.
Strong said, “He only one that re-mem-ber. Most don’t.”
Jon said, “Good enough. That's exactly who I thought. So you all are getting along okay?”
Strong nodded with a smile, “Fun building. Fun ripping puny human cars apart. Fight with metal men and green men fun too.”
Jon smirked, “Only brothers can be green, huh?”
The super mutants laughed, and some of the brotherhood looked on nervously at the outburst. They still had trouble coming to terms with working along side super mutants, but would make no move with the General right there. After all, they have been amenable for the time they worked together. Most remembered the story of Fawkes, and remembered that not every super mutant is a mindless savage.
Jon put out a hand, and shook the ones offered by each super mutant before taking off back to the outside. He walked all the way up to the top of the catwalk around the stack. There was a transmission tower rigged up there leading down to equipment in the main office. He looked out over the Commonwealth and thought of his next moves. Probably visiting the Elder, and tackling the Glowing Sea if they haven't already.
His radio clicked on of it’s own volition. Q’s volition most like. An acoustic guitar backed it. An electric hit it’s riff a few times. The drums rolled in, and the ensemble went for another measure or two. Jon smiled as the lyrics started, “We passed upon the stairs. And spoke of was and when. Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend. Which came as some surprise. I spoke into his eyes, I thought you died alone, a long long time ago. Oh no! Not me! I never lost control! You’re face. To face. With the man who sold the world...”