Chapter 6: Hole Digging
Jon was confident in the defenses of Sanctuary. It was absolutely abysmal, but it was good enough that Jon could take his Colonel and teach him how to properly move though terrain, and a given location. How to move, think, where to look, signs, everything the new Minutemen would need to know to effectively destroy their enemies. They had a couple guard post plots set up with a program Jake devised using an industrial configuration. Jon did about the same thing with his table, calling it a bed in the variable names. His chairs were nightstands.
The men and one of the women that came in the night volunteered for watch, and Codsworth was willing and able to keep it 24/7. They were also well armed from the haul taken from the two dozen raiders still littering the streets. Not great examples of weapons, but good enough. Surprisingly Jon didn’t smell decay from the dead raiders after a couple days after in the hot sun. He would at his station at least. He figured much of the life cycle dedicated to decomposition was exterminated from the bombs. Things nearly couldn’t decay anymore.
He didn’t have to teach that much to Preston, all things considered. More than one pre-war ghoul with military experience found a home with the Minutemen. Jon hopped some veterans were still out there, waiting for someone with some brains and brawn to take charge. To make a real difference without the petty rivalries Preston said plagued the old Minutemen. Jon would understand not wanting to fly that flag, when you were sometimes a literal Joke people told. They weren't a joke anymore. Jon would let the pressure build naturally, on when the news got out about things. A whisper here or there becomes talk, talk becomes news, news becomes history.
If things simmered until the Castle began broadcasting music again, than so be it. If not, so be it as well, he couldn’t stop his enemies information gathering efforts, nor his allies or neutral parties. By not controlling the flow of information, he would control it. By controlling it, he would win the hearts and minds. The Commonwealth would rise up themselves against their enemies, and no invading or occupying force would withstand their wrath. They would rise behind a new flag, one with a long history behind it. Thirteen red stripes, alternating red and white, and in a blue field the lightning and musket symbol of the Minutemen, the army defending them. Their army, their state, not his. He was a man with a shovel, willing to dig because assholes were in the way. His great game continued.
They first cleared the Wicked Shipping warehouse. There were only about ten ferals, but Jon saw why people were so scared of them. They were sluggish, dormant, until they picked up the scent and charged with near inhuman speed. Jon was inhuman, so it was nothing to give them a target, and run back for distance while he and Preston picked them off during their mindless attack. If Preston was a savant with a hunk of junk, he was even better with a purpose built weapon, his old pre-war scope affixed by Old Paul. None made it close to the pair.
They cleared every inch of the place, Jon needing only to give a couple pointers. Near the back of the lot was a garage was two skeletons and a holotape. There were two weapons, one next to each. They listened to the holotape, a plea to flee the wrath of a crime lord.
Preston said, “Eddie Winters. Even I’ve heard of him. Some big time mob boss. Pre-war. Goodneighbor always welcomed the Minutemen, the real ones at least. And those old gangsters are always willing to spin a tall one about the glory days.”
Jon said, “What was he doing with radioactive material though? Not even fuel. Just spent material. A mob boss wouldn't be recycling it.”
Preston shook his head, “No idea, General. Seems kind of dumb if you ask me. Why would you just want that stuff? Maybe there’s an answer out there.”
Jon said, “I’ll keep a look out. This might be a fun mystery to pluck at, as I stumble across the wastes.”
Preston scoffed, “Stumble. Your 2IC recommends we continue, sir.”
Jon smirked, “I believe it’s XO today.”
“Yes sir.”
They took some choice bits of loot, some meds, chems, ammo, a Grognak comic Preston nearly salivated over, the master key for their trailers, and left the rest for the cause. Jake had set up a private frequency between their Pip-Boys, that being less difficult than communicating with ASAMs. Jon didn’t trust the security of it, and neither did Jake, but it was good in case one needed to set a meet to talk to the other, or to ping when and where a location was ready to junk.
They backtracked to a ranger cabin up the hill, behind Abernathy’s. After shooting down a couple bloat flies, They listened to the holotape of a runway, and her last frantic words after the bombs fell. Jon’s eyes twitched, and Preston shook his head. Jon would ensure to preserve these holotapes. Their history. The people that made them.
They moved to Walden pond, first clearing the gift shop. Several IED’s were rigged, and they were easily disarmed by Jon, making them his weapons. They were of a surprising quality. They picked up valuable junk from the place, and even a couple bobble heads, along with a board game. The junk was mostly toys, and they had valuable gears and screws. For bulk materials it was always worth it to throw it in the shop to scrap, to reform useless things into useful things. In finer materials it was always best to scrap by hand, and use what you need when you need. There was always loss when scrapping with the shop, an unacceptable amount for some things.
Down on the edge of the pond was an outlet that would be perfect to infiltrate whatever was behind the locked door. When the half dozen raiders were dead in the drug lab, it made sense why the IEDs were a near professional quality. There was also plenty of prem junk for the cause, mostly chemicals of course.
“Big Jim.”
“Hmm?”
“The pipe wench. I see and I think of a song I know. Don’t ask.”
Preston scoffed, “I wont ask, sir.”
They also cracked the safe and took their caps and other choice stash bits. Jon and Preston exited though the door with the key from the kingpin, and clicked his Pip-boy again. They moved on to Sunshine-Tidings Co-Op.
There were only 4 ghouls hanging out in the place, probably it’s pre-war co-occupants. There were also a few roaches to smash as well. On was twice the size of the others. A beat up Mr. Handy rocketed around the place, taking no part in the hostilities.
“Far out, man!”
Jon decided this unit was just a unit. Maybe with some massaging he could be a Codsworth, but then he would be a completely different bot. There was a terminal connected to him, but it only had a hippy and extermination mode, with no other information he could detect without time to look. Mr. Feel Good would be a useful resource for this place after some maintenance at least.
Then he went to inspect something he spotted first thing. A hemp plant. It was flowering, and it had seed. It’s strands red, it's stock and pointed leaves a splotchy orange and yellow. Jon smiled wickedly.
Preston asked, “What is it?”
Jon didn’t hesitate, “Rad weed. You never see this?”
Preston said, “I’ve seen it growing here and there, but it ain’t something you can eat.”
Jon nodded, “You can smoke the flower, and no it’s not going to turn you into a chemed out raider. It’s like tobacco, just a little more impairing and psychedelic. Also use it’s extract for medicines. Of course the hippy farm has some growing wild. The hemp is also good for a whole lot. I am really interested to see what can be done with a press, like say providing the cloth for our uniforms without needing to loot a million skeletons. If nothing else we can design and build the looms to use it. Rope. Rope is a fucking big one. Fuck we could use it as a composite wood. I am honestly shocked you guys forgot all about what this plant could do. Like you said, you cant eat it, so it doesn't matter. Pick it out of your gardens because it’s a weed.”
Preston nodded, “Alright, I’ll give the flower a fair shot. It’s just all that wasteland crank I hate. Some of the pre-war stuff is nasty too. Nothing wrong with having a good time, though. Cold beer is my favorite. Cold Nuka-Cola and rum is a close second. And we can use it for uniforms?”
“Just have to process it into fabric, or stands for rope. Strip the outer stalk, then you have the woody bits inside either for building or paper. Anything you can use wood for, especially when you have industrial presses like you do that can process it way easier than we ever could. The stuff is also fire retardant. Not proof, but resistant. Sturdy. It’s perfect, just needs dyed blue. Let me put it this way, up until the 1930’s farmers in the US could pay their taxes with it. It was a strategic resource.”
“Strategic resource. That’s a name that says something. What changed?”
“Some Government asshole needed to justify his job after prohibition. They outlawed alcohol before legalizing it again. The fact that the timber industries benefited from this is a happy coincidence, I’m sure.”
Preston scoffed, “Idiots. Of course the Government was full of assholes. Nothing changed there!”
Jon and Preston laughed a moment. Jon said, “Pick what we can. This isn't pipe leaf. We just need the seeds.”
They both picked the seeds they could from the bushels of plants that dotted the property. There was also a problem. Jon eyed the overpass and saw a Gunner outpost. They were a distance away, and wouldn't see them unless they were looking, but they probably looked. Just being were they were at, infrastructure purpose built for their post even if junky, meant they were at least a passably competent. Probably some faction that came out of a pre-war unit. Jon learned much about them from the small observation post.
All they would see is two heavily armed men picking though the place, in blue. But that meant nothing by itself. If his XO was in his duster, it might be a problem, but anyone can have blue fatigues and armor. Thankfully Q kept most identifying markings off the uniforms, save the ranks on their helmets. They wouldn't see those with any kind of scope at the distance they were.
“We can’t settle this place until they’re dealt with.”
“But are we going to deal with them, XO?”
Preston grimaced a bit, “Not yet.”
Jon gave him a shark smile. He said, “Yes. Precisely. We are at war XO, and all warfare is based on deception. They don’t know they’re at war. They think they’ve won, if they know anything at all about Quincy. We don’t want to play our hand just yet. If that post drops off, then they investigate, and it brings them to places we don’t want them. We’ll keep this location to ourselves for now. I want to scout that church. It’s a good vantage. Then well break for lunch, and turn north.”
Jon and Preston made way to the lonely chapel, and spied further south from the superior vantage. A quick check though the broken bay windows cleared it of any hostiles. Only a few skeletons sat in it’s pews. A couple from the army scattered about, with good helmets even if their fatigues were shot completely.
Preston spied first, “That’s the Federal Ration Stockpile down there. Word is there’s a raider war going on. Slow burn for the past couple years.”
“Hmm. How can you ever confirm? You gonna walk up and ask? Yeah I totally believe a gang war, a skirmish here or there where borders bump together. Grudges. Only thing slowing it down is distances involved.”
“That’s one of the sides down there. Red Tourette runs that gang. A mean mother.”
“What about that town over there. Looks like it has an army base.”
“Hagan. Fort Hagan. All I know is the name, though. You can probably see better, but I can still make out Weston Water, Graygarden, the place is run by robots, Oberland Station across the river, they’re both settlements we should talk too, then you got the brewery. That’s another side in the raider war. Tower Tom.”
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Jon smirked, “I take it the sides are just major bosses and leaders. Ones that earned names and whatnot.”
Preston returned it, “Yeah, basically. But there are plenty of assholes on their own. So not every raider is in the raider war.”
Jon said, “We need to take that slow. Carefully. As much as I hate to admit.”
Preston said, “I understand, General. They might band together if they start getting knocked over one after another. However this is a major gang, basically on our doorstep.”
Jon scoffed, “I understand, XO. They're isolated as well. Probably their strength, that and sitting on what is no doubt a treasure hoard. They can attack with impunity, and good luck getting to their fortress to return the favor. What would you do when you did? This is a question I must consider. Lets take cover and eat.”
They bother entered the church and more thoroughly cleared it, in case a dormant feral was making their residence there. There wasn’t, but there was a hatch there. Preston said, “We can’t be that lucky.”
Jon said, “Well, it would make sense to have a back door, and this is about the right place for it. Look, they used it as a base for the pulpit to hide it. They probably built this whole church to cover their hatch.”
Preston said, “What’s the call, General? Definitely going to eat first, then?”
Jon scoffed, “Eat, then leave. We night raid the place. We’ll make much better time back, and have plenty to rest. We still have to escort Jake to Tempine’s, then Olivia tomorrow, so not to late a raid. When is the best time to raid?”
Preston didn’t hesitate, “Pre-dawn. Your night watch is tired, and your day watch isn’t up yet. Easy. Standard Minuteman protocol is to change watch pre-dawn for that reason.”
Jon smiled, “Man, it really was petty bullshit that took you guys down.”
Preston nodded, “Yeah. It was. We had people that knew what they were doing. They were the first to leave when it all started going to shit after Becker died, and no one could agree on a General. Can’t blame them, they didn’t want to die because of stupidity.”
“Anyone we should be on the lookout for?”
“Ronnie Shaw. She’s one I know for sure remembers the Castle. We’ll need her when we take it back. If she’s still alive. She was old when I was green.”
“Alright. Lets chow. If they pop out the hatch, I guess we cowboy in so we don’t lose surprise.”
They ate peacefully, with no raiders coming out the back way. If they were smart they would have some kind of guard on it. There still stood the possibility of them having it trapped. They went back down the hill, and got back on the main road, crossing the dam holing back the reservoir. It was taking them back to Concorde when they spied a cabin just off it, and heard the sound of ferals. Not many, so a few shots put them down. Head shots were supremely effective, and according to Preston limbs as well. They could take center mass shots for days, so there was no point in trying.
They looted the booze and a few chems from the place, and looked at anther hatch. Jon said, “Why didn’t you fill Jake in, out of curiosity. You did Sturgis.”
He grimaced, “I hope I didn’t overstep.”
“Not at all. Any competent force prizes initiative in their officers, and especially NCOs. As long as that initiative is competent. Some people need to know, and Sturgis is certainly one of them. But why not Jake. I have my own theory.”
Preston said, “He’s a little too smooth, like he’s gonna eventually ask something unreasonable for those ASAMs.”
Jon smiled, “That’s about what I thought. I filled him in. We talked. He has his own very good reasons for doing what he’s doing. And he signed on, so the ASAM show is now my show. Other than collecting the junk we tag, they’re supposed to keep doing what they’re doing.”
Preston nodded, “Yes sir. They have been a big help. The shops were always good for their machine tools to keep a settlement going, but those templates aren't easy to get to really use them. We’re making brand new stuff, and I almost can’t believe it. If you trust him, I trust him. It just all seemed a little too easy.”
Jon said, “And it’s never bad to keep that in the back of your mind. If it’s too good to be true, it usually is, but sometimes it isn't.”
“Yeah, sometimes you really do luck out.”
Jon popped the hatch, and listened closely. He said “Two ghouls, one further in and behind another door. Radiation as well. Pop some Rad-X.”
They both popped their pills, and Jon jumped down first. A single shot splattered the feral’s head open. It came up from a crouching dormancy in a futile attempt to take the first pray it’s probably ever gotten wind of. The feral’s body was rotted heavily, and nearly fell apart as It hit the dirt floor like a stone. How it was even moving Jon didn’t know.
“Do regular ghouls get like that?”
“No actually. That's a good way to tell the difference at a glace. Ferals are basically rotting corpses. Regular ghouls look messed up, smell a little messed up, but its more like bad burn scars for skin than falling apart like that. Don’t ask me why.”
They continued though the small bunker under the cabin. Jon’s Pip-Boy ticked a little faster each step they took. The Rad-X was still working away to shield them against the low level rads. There was probably a barrel of waste behind the final door.
There was, but also a glowing feral, hot with green radiation. Jon already had his Delta ready when he opened the door. Five quick shots to the thing’s head blew it to chucks like his friend further back.
“Get back.”
Preston didn’t need to be told twice. The door was shielded and blocking most of the radiation. He said, “General, you should get back with me.”
“I’ll be fine, and that looks like two disassembled devices, that I could only describe as miniaturized nuclear weapons. I’m taking them.”
Preston said nothing. At the end of the day, they had rad away back at sanctuary, and who would turn down two free mini-nukes. Jon walked slowly, almost swaggering, the heat of the gamma making his sweat. He had flashbacks to various missions, a trial, falling to his knees covered in the blood of his kind, giving his rage to the sky, yelling Khan’s name in anger. Why was he here, just to suffer?
He placed his hand on the parts of the devices, and the army he was building was now nuclear armed. It was such a casual thing to them, Jon’s worst fears. Now he was the man selling the world, and he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to fire. How much damage could a few more exchanges do, that hasn’t already been done?
He gathered every bit of junk, picked up a hand drawn magazine that told him where Diamond city was, were he expected it to be, and quickly read the terminal. He walked out, and Preston had already picked the entryway clean. Both men climbed out quickly.
“That guy was the only sane man in the Commonwealth before the war, a true patriot.”
Preston scoffed, “Okay. How so?”
“He thought the Government was using the power lines to spy on him and everyone else. He was going to bomb the tower there with the mini-nukes. I know one thing, he was no commie traitor.”
It was a joke, but Jon owed it to the man to at least acknowledge the existence and truth of one Wayne Gorski. Terrorist to some, freedom fighter to Jon given the truth of the Government in this place. At least he died in his home, and not a Government camp Jon knew existed.
Preston voiced Jon’s thoughts, “Shit, knowing what I know about the Enclave from the Capital, he was probably right. How’s your rads.”
Jon looked, “An appreciable amount, but going down. Not the first or the worst. Firefights in bombed out reactor pits are not fun. I’ll need that rest. Here, get your readings.”
He handed the Pip-Boy to Preston and his eyes went wide that he was being allowed to wear one, trusted with one. He very carefully slipped it on, booted it up and let it read his vitals.
He said, “A little bit. The Rad-X helped. Nothing some rad-away wont fix. I know there are some herbal things that work. We need to find people that know them. A good chem cook too, for medicines. They’re probably the same person.”
“Not some raider crank mixer, obviously.”
Preston smirked as they walked, “Obviously, but there are ones useful. Calmex is good for surgery, Med-X is a pain killer. You need to be careful with the stuff, but it’s still medicine when used correctly. Then there are actual medicines.”
“The only difference is dosage, usually. Drug, medicine, poison. These are exactly the types of things you need to think of as General, XO. Logistics above all. It’s why I have you in the first place.”
Preston snickered. Jon said, “I was hoping you would just ask me to join. I seriously think if you made yourself General we would still be in good hands.”
Preston said, “Thanks, General. I know we’re in good hands. I can get men thought a firefight, but I never thought of myself as a leader like that. I guess I’m getting pushed into it anyway. If that’s what the Minutemen needs, then so be it.”
Jon took back his Pip-Boy as they passed Jake’s shop. He wasn’t home, so Jon decided to try and test the frequency in earnest. While he prized intelligent initiative, he needed to make sure Jake knew to not venture too close to Sunshine-Tidings, lest he be observed trying to set up a settlement where it shouldn’t be seen. Jon knew he would if he was in the area checking out the junk spots.
Jon tuned his radio, “Hey, cowpoke.”
After a bit of static Jake replied, “Hey there, slick.”
“Remember the story of Icarus?”
There was a second more of static, thought, “Yeah, don’t fly to close. Got it. Thanks Slick. Cowpoke out.”
Preston asked, “Icarus?”
Jon said, “Ancient myth, and Jake got a real education in his home town. Icarus flew to close to the sun. Burned his wings.”
“Ah, bit of code a bunch of Gunners in the ass end of nowhere aren't going to know if they happen to overhear. Fair enough.”
“Yup. Hit the sack when you get back to Sanctuary. We ride at midnight, and double time there.”
“Yes sir.”
The men walked though the still corpse strewn Concorde, a scavenger here and there scattering off at their approach. They split off when Jon reached the Red Rocket. He stowed his Junk haul, needing some at least for his personal uses rather than the SCPG uses, and took off to Abernathy’s with some seeds and an ASAM.
He came on the farm with a happy wave from the family and their hands. Jon waved back and said, “Mr. Abernathy, can we talk real quick?”
He nodded, “Yeah, lets take a walk to the back nine.”
They took their short stroll, passing the manor shack, and their melon plants, then stopped for a moment in respect for the grave, before walking to near the junk trailer cabin out back. Blake said, “Call me Blake by the way. Mr. Abernathy was my father and grandfather.”
Jon snickered, “Sure Blake. Nice melons we passed.”
Blake said, “Yeah, something new we’re trying. Now with the ASAMs I can get a quicker handle on it. Every crop is a little different in how you have to tend it. So I guess I can stand a gizmo tellin me how to farm a bit.”
Jon kept his snicker. He said, “You ever hear of the three brothers?”
Blake said, “What’s that? Something farm related.”
Jon said, “I’ve seen everything you need for it, and the fact that you don’t need to replant every season like farmers used to have to should super charge it. Maze, beans growing up around them, and gourds on the ground around it. I’m not a farmer, just know a little history and how people used to do it.”
Blake thought about it a moment, “Yeah. Yeah I see that. Maze is a little fussy, harder to tend. It’s roots aren't deep. But the gourd leaves would cover them up, stabilize it. The beans are free. The stalk makes the perfect support for them. Never thought about planting them all together like that. I’ll definitely be trying that out. Man you’re full of good tips. Got anymore?”
Jon said, “Not a tip, but there is a thing I wanted to talk about specifically. I joined the Minutemen.”
Blake smiled, “That’s great news. A man like you can only be good for them. And them good for the Commonwealth. I’m glad you guys are going to get back on your feet. Why tell me though?”
Jon said, “Because you're the leader of this settlement, whatever it becomes, and I didn’t just join the Minutemen. Preston liked what he saw in Concorde, and he elected me General to rebuild the Minutemen. I’m going further than the Minutemen. No half measures.”
Blake thought a moment, he whispered so low only one of Augment ears could hear, “The CPG. You’re going to give it another shot.”
Jon said, “SCPG. I declared myself the Military Governor of the Commonwealth. I will build an army, then civilian government, starting with the North West. I wont be a dictator forever, I promise you that, but dammit I’m not going to let anyone interfere this time. With brute force I will beat order out of the chaos, Blake, if for no other reason than so I can work on my personal projects in peace.”
“I’m in. You’re really going to do it this time. What do you need, General?”
“Taxes. It’s not fair but the farmers are getting taxed first. I need this grown. It’s a hemp plant, five point leaves.”
Blake took the seeds and ASAM, “Yeah, I’m familiar with it. Stuff is a weed. I don’t have to pick it out often, but I don’t want it to overtake the fields. Why this? Food would make more sense.”
“Food will sort itself out though trade, and I plan on making posts as self sufficient as possible. The outer stalk can be harvested for fabric or rope. The inner stalk can be processed and used like wood.”
Blake nodded, “Yeah, I’ve seen clothes with their tags still good. I don’t know what a cotton or polyester is, and trees aren't quite ready to grow again, only so much you can cut down. It can really do all that?”
Jon nodded, “Yup. And the flower has medicinal benefits if you extract it, or as a mellow recreational drug if you smoke it. The priority is on rope and fabric. You need to do some legwork if you want pipe leaf. You’ll need to harvest and replant like the old days.”
Blake said, “Because you need the whole stalk, not just the flower. Fair enough. I’ll get a field ready for it, and plant it for you. And this pays my taxes?”
Jon said, “Yup. I haven't figured out a currency yet, caps for now, but farmers will be able to play their taxes free and clear with hemp once something more official gets set up. The SCPG needs uniforms and rope. It’s what’s called a strategic resource, and unlike most it can be grown.”
Blake nodded, “The name alone says something. Alright then, it’s settled. Thanks for sparing the ASAM too. If I may ask, what’s your personal project? I don’t want to sign up for another doomsday. We had enough of those.”
Jon chucked hard, “Space, Blake. I want to go to space. To push frontiers that only exist in wildest imaginations. And I need the assholes out of the way to do that. A society capable of producing what’s needed for it. Space is were the resources are.”
Blake shook his head in near disbelief, “Man, that, is, ambitious. And I believe every word of it. I know we went to space before the war, but that’s all I know, and I read comics when I can. Make sure to tell the aliens were they can get the best produce in the galaxy when you’re up there.”
Jon broke out in laughter, and both men shook hands. Jon took off to his station for some much needed sleep before assaulting the Raider camp after dark. A quick check of his rads before laying down showed most of the damage repaired, and still ticking down. What it was doing in conjunction with the FEV now in him, he didn’t want to know.