Chapter 31: Mothership Part 1_Fallout 4: Augment

Chapter 31: Mothership Part 1

Work was ongoing at the brewery. In response to this, the Oberlands planted plots and plots of razor grain. They would sell to both the brewery next door, and to anyone else that wanted to make noodles, a Commonwealth staple thanks to Professor Scara. Food wasn't actually a terrible situation in this stretch of the wastes, all things considered. There were plenty of farms, the crops were perennial and could be harvested fast, and most raiders in between the major hubs and the outskirts knew it was smarter to charge tolls instead of outright robbing and killing their scores.

Many settlements had many protection racket deals. After all, the tolls and protection payments were usually in food. A lot of raids took food, but most knew you couldn’t score on the dead. Blood was fine every so often, but capping the only farms nearby was suicide even for them.

That was becoming less and less of a problem every day. Just as Jon was becoming more known, just as the raiders were talking about moves, the Brotherhood parked their 40 thousand ton weapon of war right next to the only leader that could pull off any kind of rival raider republic.

All according to Tommy at least. Tommy was a straight shooter, Jon thought. Between them, they had cleared a lot of holes so far, and a lot of major gang leaders. They were never organizing, and some of the reports he got over the couple days of Castle detail mentioned more and more leaving every day. Over all they knew the game was over in the Commonwealth as the SCPG and Brotherhood stood together, confirmed by his message to the people. Where were they going, he wondered. Piper mentioned a rumored Nuka-world, but that was a problem for later.

His current problem was the ethereal light swirling around him as he walked the razor grain fields. Of course Maxson was beside him as well, visiting to inform him that the infiltration mission would be ready in about a day, and Jon deciding to take a tour of settlements, which Maxson offered to provide the ride for. The Brotherhood of course would have an interest in seeing how the SCPG implemented ASAMs in their settlements as compared to them. Likewise the SCPG would inspect their settlements. Like normal allied relations. When Jon got his carriers up, or the Commonwealth did using his designs, they would be a super power as well. So it would be normal allied super power relations.

But what did any of that matter when, for all Jon could tell, both leaders were being abducted by aliens. Maxson just looked up angerly, with a near snarl. Like he knew something. Like he had a grudge.

The alien transport seemed to be taking it’s good old time, as compared to the transports he clocked as his lights went out. He said, “Maxson.”

“Jon.”

“Maxson what the fuck.”

“Zetans. I never admitted it to anyone, but I’d bet caps they took Sarah. Riptide, stand by. There's nothing you can do right now.”

One had already fainted, and a second slumped in their power armor at the stern order. The transporter finally did its work, and zipped them away to the sky. Jon felt like he was being pulled though a string, and looked like it to on-lookers. It included his Civilian Minister, a couple scribes, Riptide. The press as well, since a meeting of allied states like the trip turned into is something that should hit the news.

Piper waved calmly and yelled, “You always wanted to go to space blue!”

In a flash Jon and Maxson were now on the Zetan mother-ship. A quick glance around showed and oval room with white dimly lit walls casting an ambient glow from their entire surface. The trimmings round the floor and ceiling were a light steel, but certainly an alien alloy. A look to Maxson and his person, and they were both in their skivvies.

Maxson said, “No panels or cabling of any kind. The door and ceiling look like a force field. I doubt you could kick your way though it.”

Now was not the time for any joviality from Jon. He heard mechanisms activating and working though the open roof of the prison pod. He said, “Against the wall.”

Maxson didn’t question it, and both retreated to the side under the lip that ran round the top of the room. A claw worked it’s way past and passed them by, choosing another pod to pilfer from.

“No! Please, please please. NO!”

The man continued to struggle and cry, and the claw picked him from his cell and off to his certain grave. Jon and Maxson walked back out to the center of the room and tried to see what they could see. It wasn't much. A wall, some machinery to work the claw, nothing that could help them get out.

Jon said, “This one’s easy. We fight.”

“Agreed.” And he swung savagely for Jon’s jaw.

Jon leaned back quickly, respecting the dirty move of attacking his bad side first. Maxson threw his foot into Jon’s gut. He turned, letting it pass while grabbing it with his off hand and hammering out with his gun hand. Usually he would go for the throat to crush it and end the fight as soon as possible, but instead gave a light tap to the chest. Light for an Augment. It knocked him off his planted foot, and onto his back. Jon threw his leg and came up with his own foot. Maxson called the telegraphed move easily and rolled out of the way. Jon put full power into it after that, and put a dent in the floor.

Maxson came up swinging against Jon’s gut, a left, right, right again. Jon had his hands up and he was hunched over. He thew a lazy jab that Maxson ducked under, and Jon gave an upper cut to to the Elders gut with another light tap. Just enough to knock the wind out of him.

The force field behind him dropped, and Jon didn’t hesitate to turn and charge forward. Two met him, and both had alien shock batons in their hands. While he could be cowed by electricity like anyone, due to the nature of its interaction with a nervous system, it would take more than those small things. Jon was fast, and only needed a step to swing his leg into the left Zetan. It threw them against the wall outside, and caused a small splatter of blood on the white din. His right hand swung from a rest, his fingers clawed, and dug into the second Zetan’s head near the top. It dug flesh, bone, and gray matter and threw it in an arc away. The Zetan was dead and only twitched once more after it fell.

The aliens were squat, lanky, and ugly by human standards. They had bulbous craniums, bulbous and beady black eyes, and off green skin. There mouths were lined with short sharp teeth, and their three fingers had longer proportions compared to human hands. They were both wearing white jumpsuit uniforms.

Maxson had caught his breath and was picking up the short baton. Any weapons was better than none. He said, “They abducted the wrong people.”

“In broad fucking daylight? What were they thinking? Hey! What, were, you, thinking!?” He yelled to the ones running down the hall.

Maxson took the lead and easily batted away the first attack, jamming his baton into the Zetan’s face. Jon grabbed the second one by their uniform and hurled them up to the ceiling. Their head caved in, and necked snapped immediately on impact before they fell back down to the floor. They walked forward to where they came from, and passed though a decontamination set up with red mist trailing from it. They passed thought and found a research lab, with what looked like terminals for recording and analyzing experiment data. That they of course collected from their victims.

Maxson said, “Never changes, does it.”

Jon said, “Nope. Like seriously, how hard is a modicum of ethics? At least its not unique to us.”

Maxson scoffed, “I’ll check this door, you check the other one.”

Jon sarcastically said, “Sir, yes, sir.”

He toed down a short hall to the door at the end. Maxson called out, “Locked tight!”

Jon said, “Open!”

The thumbed the only button around and the door slid open and revealed another holding wing. Inside there was a reactor setup, with its coolant pulsing though at regular intervals. Maxson walked back over to follow Jon in.

A voice called out from one of the cages, “Hello?”

Jon and Maxson walked in, and found a teenage girl locked in the first cell. She said, “I’m sally. You two trying to escape?”

They glanced at each other. Jon said, “Yeah. I take it you want out as well.”

She said, “Duh. Blow up the reactor. You can expose the coolant cells and deactivate them.”

Maxson asked, “How long have you been in here.”

She looked thoughtful, “Don’t know. I know It’s a while, and I haven't aged all the while. But I have seen a lot of the ship, and I can help get us out, like though the door you probably couldn’t get though because it doesn’t open from this side.”

Jon said, “What year were you brought here?”

She said, “2076.”

Maxson said, “It’s 2287, almost 2288. This is wrong.”

She huffed, “Duh, now can you two meatheads get me out?”

Jon scoffed as he took off off towards the reactor. He turned the main actuator, formed to fit their three elongated fingers. The klaxon when off as steam fell from the top of the contraption. Three posts around it pop their tops and rose to expose the coolant cells. Jon had a choice to make, and he needed Maxson input.

Jon asked, “So, are we preserving this thing.”

“Or blowing it to smithereens. Interesting choice.”

Jon shrugged, “This cat ain't going back into the bag. They came here and kidnapped us for fucking centuries.”

“We reverse engineer their tech for ourselves. For all we know this a vanguard for an invasion centuries in the making, and the only way to find out is if we preserve and sturdy their technology, their records. We try to get it back, blow it up if we can’t.”

“And either way we don’t leave a single fucking person behind.”

“Agreed.”

“Sorry for calling you meatheads, yah fucking dorks! Get the force field down!”

Jon and Maxson scoffed as they took to manually deactivating the coolant shells instead of busting them as well. They stood back as the core warmed up and eventually exploded. It was well contained, in fact, and a testament to their safety engineering, if nothing else.

They walked back over and Sally was stretching outside the cell. Jon said, “Alright, new plan.”

She said, “Yeah I heard. I can take you to where they probably have your gear.”

The began walking back out to the lab, and up to the door out of it. There was a maintenance and ventilation shaft on the floor next to it, and she went though it to the other side. They waited for a moment. Then a moment more.

After a third moment Maxson said, “Did we get played? She going to report us for some favor? They obviously worked with her extensively.”

Jon shook his head, “They kept a teenage girl in a cage for two centuries. That's the origin story for a super villain and their worst nightmare if I’ve ever heard one. No way she passes up two minions like us.”

The door opened after one more moment to sally with a big smile. She said, “Okay minions. We gotta get to the engine room, then we can go to the main bridge. That's where the guy in charge is. I totally wanna to see him die, he’s extra mean. Lets go, your gear won’t be far.”

She skipped the short way down the hall to small security room. Jon and Maxson followed behind, and didn’t have time to react as one came from the lock up and Sally didn’t hesitate to pounce. She was on the Zetan and pushing them to the ground. Her fingers clawed and fists beat against their head until they went limp. Jon and Maxson simply passed her by as she did her work and retrieved their gear.

Maxson got back in his black officer’s uniform with his signature insulated battle coat over top. Jon was in his blue fatigues and rig. Over the couple days of detail some patches were added to them and his arms. Patches for the Minutemen, and the flag of the SCPG. Maxson grabbed his own army helmet, as there was more gear than what they had come with. He also picked up a service rifle, and a few grenades.

The came back out and Sally was done with her work and covered in alien blood. She smiled, “Lets go losers.”

They walked back the next hall and opened the door to the steam works. Sally promptly turned and said, “Okay, they’ll be looking for us, and they’ll send guys though here. I can sneak around in the vents, and hit them from behind while my minions distract them. I just, like, need a gun or something.”

Jon pulled his sidearm and handed it grip first, “You know how to shoot, I assume.”

She scoffed as she took the gun and said, “Duh, minion number two, I took second amendment class like everyone else. What do they teach in school nowadays?”

Jon wince at the rebuke, and Maxson held his reaction at bay. Jon still held the grip on his Singer, “This is a relic, near ancient. Not some wasteland iron. Treat it with respect.”

He loosed his grip and Sally expertly checked the weapon, “Duh.”

Maxson reached into his coat and said, “Here, a grenade I picked from the crates as well.”

She smiled wickedly, “That’s why you’re minion number one. I can hear them coming, get ready.”

She rushed off and took to the vents. Jon and Maxson sent up on both sides of a longer corridor. They must have done more than prevent her from aging, Jon mused as he held his rife at the ready. He only just made out the armed Zetans rushing in over the sound of the steam venting here and there though pressure controls. Why they needed such a setup on a spaceship he didn’t know. They would know eventually when the ship landed at the airport.

Zetans came around the corner, and they were no match for the now heavily armed and angry pair ripped from their home world. Jon fired first, and killed first, the bullet ripping though the egg shaped and polarized helmet covering the security officer’s head. Maxson fired second, hitting the second center mass. A scientist was behind them, and fell to Jon’s second shot, the third of the engagement. Maxson got the final shot double tapping his target with one to the visor.

Jon got up and walked forward, following the sounds from the vent where Sally was going. They turned though some tighter passages with steam piping all around, some control panes in alien script, and entered another longer hall with less piping.

“More coming down the hall.” Sally muffled though the walls. Again Jon had only just picked it up himself. What did they do to her, he thought. He knew. The same thing Khan did, only somehow even less ethical.

Jon had moved up slightly to take cover behind a conduit running from the floor to the ceiling. Maxson was in a kneeling position at the entrance to the hall. The Zetans now were armed with their alien blasters. It appeared to be plasma shot coming at the pair. Maxson already knew of Zetans, so it was likely others before the war did as well. They perhaps reversed engineered their own plasma tech.

He still didn’t want to take one of the shots. The volume of fire was suppressive. He didn’t have targeting optics, so he couldn’t use VATS. The hall was relatively tight, and in the Zetans favor. He popped off a couple shots blind fire, and Maxson was doing the same. The globules of plasma lessened a bit, but was still keeping it’s pace all the same.

Jon peak out a bit, and saw they were clustered in a group, and the ones at the front were firing away, walking their advance towards the pair. When one had to reload, another stepped in and took their place. They were certainly competent in some capacity, he thought. It was the perfect tactic to either drive them back along a predictable path to where they would be trapped entirely, or kill them outright before they did more harm to their operations.

Jon only needed a glance to measure the surroundings, and blind fire more accurately. He poked his rifle out and started laying into the advancing group. He didn’t see the grenade rolled out from on of the vents, but did hear and feel it explode however. He and Maxson both seized the initiative to actually lean out and pick their shots. Only a couple survived, and they fell long before they could reorient, and either keep attacking for retreat.

They went down the hall, and just behind the door to the next room were two more security officers. They were only armed with shock batons, and no match. Jon kicked the first into the wall out of instinct. Maxson was on the ball and gunned down the second immediately. The next room of the deck was obviously the main core of the steam works, and was larger and more expansive. Jon judged the ship had to be at least the size of a football field if this was some kind of main engineering deck. There could be hundreds, or even thousands staffing it.

Thankfully, there were only a couple dozen more standing in their way. They passed though the main core, and an explosion rocked the pace as it did. It was no doubt a distraction on part of Sally. They went though the other side, came to steps, and made way through a catwalk level. Passing though to the next deck, they found a workshop and experiment room with various bits of junk and scrap they were studying, no doubt taken over centuries. Sally finally popped out just before they took more steps up to the next level.

Sally said, “Alright, dorks. Follow me.”

They took the stairs, and she jogged over to some kind of pad. She stamped her foot and said, “Nuts. They shut it off, obviously, because they know we’re out and angry. Its how you get to the bridge. Like what brought us up.”

Maxson asked, “Any way to turn it on?”

She rolled her eyes, “Duh, minion number two. Just not from here. I know another way up, come on.”

Jon saw the near imperceptible twitch of Maxson’s eyes. Now the question was if he was minion number one now, or demoted to minion number three because Maxson still had her favor in some way. It was always a head game with people like her, and he would have to assume nothing. Jon and Maxson followed her back anther small hall.

The door opened and Jon saw now what was obviously the main reactor core. The steam works was likely some kind of cooling system for it. Why would just abandon this position to hostiles was beyond him. He knew why. Because nearly a few dozen of theirs just died, perhaps the bulk of their security force. It was obvious they evacuated their lab and pulled up the ladder behind them.

They passed though the core, leaving it be. She took them though a final door and into a cryo-facility. She turned and said, “Alright, I’ve never woken these people up, but one of them in an astronaut, and has a space suit. We’ll need him to get outside. You can blow the generators for life support, and then space the deck leading to the airlock. Once you’re outside, you should be able to teleport up to the top and reactivate the pad down here.”

Maxson smirked, “You’ve been planning this for centuries.”

She clicked her tongue, “Just needed a couple good minions to carry it out.”

Jon huffed, “Do you know who the others are?”

Maxson cut in, “Is one of them named Sarah? Blond, built like a tank.”

She scoffed, “If I didn’t know better I’d say they took your girlfriend, but no, more like your sister I suspect. There is a blond, but I doubt His name is Sarah, and he’s fresh from Anchorage by his gear. I don’t know these people, I never woke them or saw them woken up. There’s also a cowboy, and I think the other guy is some ancient chink warrior.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Jon said, “Perhaps, lets save the slurs. That shit died with the bombs, and it will be left there with the rest of the corpses.”

“Fine,” She huffed, and then muttered, “commie sympathizing bastard.”

Jon began to poke around, and Maxson scoffed, “The Brotherhood had run ins with some old commie spies. They annoyed us, but didn’t try to kill us all. Twice. That was capitalism's rotting corpse. Thanks for extracting most of the worlds resources before turning it to ash. Easily accessible,”

Jon finished, “And supremely useful for conquering the ruins of your failed experiment. First off, this guy isn't Chinese. He’s Japanese, and from the Sengoku Jidai period, or the warring states period. Judging by the clan symbol, he served Tokugawa, who won out and became Shogun.”

Sally said, “You two aren't my minions anymore. So I take it he doesn’t speak English, like a commie?”

Jon smirked, “No, I suspect not. Maybe Portuguese depending on his contact with the Europeans. Probably not, because European languages were probably seen as barbarian tongues to him and them. Not worth the time, worse, an in insult to be spoken to in it.”

Maxson asked, “Can you talked to him?”

Jon huffed indignantly, “Before I got shot in the fucking face. I only remember a couple words and phrases because of the historical context the knowledge was attached to. However, if we find their weapons I can properly give him his sword back. He would understand that. In fact we should give everyone their guns back as a show of good faith. They’ll think it’s an alien trick right off the bat.”

Maxson said, “I know I would. Good plan. We do the soldier last. He needs to know we aren't friendly to his flag, even if we are stuck together right now.”

Jon opened a storage crate, “Here. Weapons. A 10mm, sword, R91, and a real big iron.”

Maxson took a look, “45-70 Government. A classic, and favorite of the NCR Rangers.”

Sally nearly whispered behind them, “So like, the US is really gone? Gone gone? Like you weren't joking because I was being a bitch? What the hell is the NCR? New California?”

Jon turned and gave her a sympathetic look, “Yeah, New California Republic. The US is gone. What’s left is called the Enclave. They were materially responsible for the bombs, even if China fired first, and committed the worse crimes in human history before, during, and after.”

Maxson said, “I’d rather be a commie than them, and I fucking hate commies for trying to sabotage us just as we were finally recovering. The called us ‘The latest stage of capitalism’ for charging minimal fees for water, so Jefferson Purity Plant could be funded independently.”

Jon scoffed, “Fucking idiots. It’s called resource scarcity and opportunity costs. Clean water doesn’t go on trees, and if the plant is on its own funding you can fund other infrastructure projects. Not like a commie to know anything about economics.”

Maxson chucked, “Judging by the records from Commerce, Treasury, and FED, neither did the capitalists. They just kept printing money to pay their debts relating to the war and vaults, claiming that the debt was being inflated away and didn’t matter, and had no laws against monopolies that stifles the free markets they claimed to love. They had their own police force that arrested economists who claimed their policies were harming national security, and there were a few. There was a near revolt in academia over the direction of the country and war. From what I know? They were really the first to see the writing on the wall in terms of wider America, before the real resource shortages hit the average person. First to pay for seeing the truth too. They were patriots, in the end, that thought their constitution still protected them when they spoke out.”

Sally huffed, “We gonna get this pity party on the road, or you two gonna keep dorking out?”

Jon looked mockingly offended as he keyed the release for the samurai’s pod, “I thought we weren’t your minions anymore?”

The pod hissed as the group took a step back as steam rocketed off and out from vents in the construction. The off blue barrier dropped and the warrior collapsed to his knees. He remembered he was in danger a moment later and shot back up to a fighting stance. The man was short, but made taller by the horns of his Hemet. His face mask was an angry scowl, his eyes full of hate. The dark armor was layered strips of iron padded by lather, and proudly on his chest was the yellow inverted tri-pedal of what became the Tokugawa Shogunate.

He yelled, “Anatahadaredesu ka! Koko wa doko!”

Jon didn’t have anything to say, nothing he remembered how to say, so he stepped forward and presented the samurai his sword. He held it blade up in the palm of his hands, and stretched them out as he bowed slightly. Formally, he would basically be on the floor groveling to his better. However, he didn’t believe in that brahmin shit, and was a prince in a past life that would be his Shogun’s lord. His bow was a mere courtesy, and he never broke eye contact.

The samurai took a moment to ponder. He looked like one of the Portuguese slaves he heard of. With darker complexion and taller stature. He should be on the floor in respect, and never making eye contact. One would be rightfully executed for these insults. However, he was in a strange situation, one he obviously didn’t get out of himself. The man presenting him his weapon with passing respect was also armed and armored, like nothing he ever saw.

Were the things they carried the famed and feared fire-arms from the barbarian traders? It was obvious if nothing else he was in the presence of warriors, even the child behind them. He needed to find out what happened to his lord, and the only way to do that was by trusting fellow warriors, no matter what clan their sigils represent.

He loosened his stance, and walked up gracefully. With a small bow he took his weapon with both hands and began tucking it back into his sash. He said, “Arigato. Toshiro Kago.”

Jon nodded, “Torshiro-sama. Jon, Maxson, Sally. We don’t speak your language, but you are among friends.”

Jon shook his head as he motioned mouth to mouth with his hand. But then he clenched it tight outstretched. Toshiro understood and nodded firmly as he met the fist with his own. They were all brothers and sisters in battle now. All seven hells would decent upon the creatures that took them.

A wash of anxiety ran though him as he eyed his compatriots. They were no normal barbarians. He had seen a traveling monk and his guard. They were nothing like how these warriors looked. Perhaps a long time had passed, and battle went on without him. Another warrior was being released, and kept a respectful distance away, deciding to eye what looked like a door.

Jon repeated the process and a dusty trail rider again fell to his knees as the thawed out. Again danger registered and he shot up. He reached for his big iron, found it missing, and pulled the Bowie from his back they didn’t take. It was in implement for hacking, and measured nearly a foot in length, with a wide blade face.

Jon grinned, “Now that’s a fucking knife partner.”

The tanned cowboy said, “What the sam hell is going on! Who the hell are you and where are we!”

Jon slowly held out his iron, “We’re on an alien spaceship. All of us were abducted at one point or another. The year is 2287. Almost new years actually.”

The cowboy slowly lifted his knife and put it back, “No way in hell I’d believe a lick of that if you weren't trynna give me your death warrant like a dipshit.”

The man walked up gingerly and gripped his iron. He slowly pulled it from Jon’s hand and slipped it back into it’s holster on his right hip. Jon said, “I’m Jon, Maxson, Sally, Toshiro-sama over there.”

Toshiro nodded, and the cowboy tipped his hat. He said, “Paulson. Pleasure. Thanks for gettin me outta the ice box. 2287? H Mary. 1877.”

Sally said, “So you’re like a real cowboy? I love westerns.”

Paulson scoffed, “Hell naw, I wern’t no travelin ranch hand. I killed men for fistfuls of government dollars sister. Officer of the court they called me.”

Sally said, “So a real cowboy, duh.”

He shook his head with a smile, “So, we wakin the others up?”

Jon nodded and went to the next pod, the astronaut. When the pod cycled, he fell limply and never got back up. Sally hissed, “Sorry. Forgot to mention sometimes people don’t wake up. My bad.”

Maxson muttered, “Would have been nice to know before hand.”

Jon said, “Shit happens. He was practically dead anyway. Sorry Paulson.”

Paulson shrugged, “Rather take the chance than be locked in here if you guys blow this place. Like you said, might as well have been dead.”

Jon said, “We’re trying not to. Hopefully we can fly this thing.”

Paulson scoffed, “Better and better, huh? Alright, last guy.”

Maxson asked, “Do we take the risk?”

Jon said, “If he dies, one more G-man gone. If he lives, we need his help.”

Paulson asked, “Take it you got beef? Look like one big and mean injune to me, and he looks like army.”

Jon scoffed, “I’m not, but yeah we got beef. There was a big war 200 years ago, blew the whole world up. The remnants of his government are still around, and still homicidaly insane. Even after the beatings they’ve taken.”

Maxson smirked, “We gave them both those beatings. Once with the NCR before lost hills lost their minds.”

Paulson chucked, “New Cali? Oh, That’s rich. After what they done to negroes, injuns, and chinamen, someone was always gonna whip em back.”

Jon walked over to the soldier’s pod and hit the release. Maxson was standing there with the private’s rifle in hand. Jon would have to bruit force deprogram him, confront him off the bat with his government’s crimes as he did Ironsides. Jon hopped it would take no more effort that that. He could and would not have a potential Enclave agent swearing fealty to the a symbol of the old world that had knowledge of this place.

He felt bad for Toshiro, as he was not going back to Japan, at least not on the spaceship. Paulson was already loyal, and would have a ball in the Commonwealth and beyond. Nothing changed for him, survival is not guaranteed. Sally’s loyalty could be bought with the first creature comforts and fresh air she’s had in 200 years. The only wildcard was the man currently defaulting to his programming.

“Private Elliott Tercorien, U.S. Army Medic, Serial Number 3477809”

He was in a ready stance, but that’s all he would say. Jon responded, “General Jon Noonien-Singh, Commonwealth Minutemen. Serial number 3.”

The private almost snapped to attention on instinct before returning to his ready, “Private Elliott Tercorien, U.S. Army Medic, Serial Number 3477809”

“Elder Author Maxson, Brotherhood of Steel. Serial number 49Wliko-8 7-Golf Niner.”

Their eyes to him were predatory, but he did not flinch, nor fall for their tricks this time. Others were in the room standing back. One was an American girl, and she didn’t look like a hostage, but an astronaut was dead on the floor.

He didn’t know what was going on, “Private Elliott Tercorien, U.S. Army Medic, Serial Number 3477809.”

Jon tapped his foot, “The US. United States. What did the United States do Elder Maxson?”