Chapter 7: Night Raid
“Gills, what the fuck.” That was what the FEV and radiation had did to him. Combined with his aggressive immune system?
His eye’s shot open, and so did his hand to the side of this neck. He regretted that when he took a true measure of their sensitivity. At least they were near seamless flaps, and not monstrous growths bulging out to the sides.
“Q!”
A snap and flash of light, and the madman had a mad look. He was in skivvies, and had 27 stars affixed to the steel helmet he wore. He said, “You rang. And no, I’m not changing it back.”
“Why the fuck not!”
“BECAUSE Q DO NOT SLEEP OFTEN, BUT I WAS ASLEEP! And it’s funny.”
Jon’s gills flared in anger, “FUCK! Can you at least make them not fucking hurt! It’s the worst pain in my Q-damned life!”
Q gave a sly smile, and snapped. He said, “There, a biological change that your inferior form did not evolve for itself. You’ll need to drink more water. Now do not call like that again! You are the only mortal with a personal line!”
And he angerly snapped again, vanishing in a flash. Thankfully the pain was gone, and he could feel a wetness on the inside of his new gills. His form had evolved the ability to breath under water, but not the ability to produce their own water to keep them wet. Thankfully the water wasn’t leaking from the sides. He could probably go without a scarf, but now he needed one. Silk preferably, but good fucking luck finding that in the wastes.
“General, you okay!”
“Yeah!” Jon yelled out to his running XO. A quick check of the time said he wanted to get to the Red rocket early, even before Jon had his alarm set.
Preston burst into the room while Jon was breathing heavy and in a cold sweat. He said, “What happened? I heard yelling. Was it you? You don’t look to hot.”
Jon said, “Yes, and no. I have gills. FEV, radiation, my science experiment DNA? I woke up with fucking gills.”
Jon flared them, some water leaking out then, and Preston said, “Holy fucking shit. I’ve heard about crazy stuff like that, never seen it in person. Just regular mutants.”
“I sure as fuck am one now. Q at least changed them so I didn’t have to keep them wet myself.”
“He wouldn't get rid of them?”
“He was sleeping, I woke him rudely, and he’s a chaos entity that finds things like that funny. So no. New gear and weapons all around, but that also comes with gills, apparently.”
“Damn. Well, from a tactical standpoint…”
Jon chuckled to Preston smile, “Of course, XO. A lot of river and bay I can traverse tactically. I wonder if I even take rad’s in the water. Or rads at all. No clue. I didn’t have FEV in me the last time I took a burst of rads. My body repaired itself, but no mutations.”
Preston said, “Maybe your Pip-Boy says something. It read vitals, and may read your gills.”
Jon checked his Pip-Boy, and sure enough there was a new entry under perks, and more that he didn’t see at first, because he never checked it. He read thought each one, starting with the most pertinent.
“Aqua boy: You no longer take radiation damage from swimming, and can breath under water!”
“Rad Resistant: You can really soak them up!”
“Ghoulish: Rad damage slowly heals, restoring health in the process!”
“Hardened bones: Your skeleton is a carbon fiber nano-tube structure! You are nearly unbreakable!”
“Inspirational: With but a word, those that hear it will follow you to the gates of hell and back!”
“Hacker: No computer system stands in your way!”
“Nerd Rage: Those with brain, do better with brawn!”
“Ninja: You are as deadly as the shadow, and strike as quick as the wind!”
“Bloody mess: Your enemies die in showers of their own viscera!”
“Mysterious stranger: Who is he, and why does he help? Qwho cares!”
“Strong Back: you can carry as much as any pack mule! Even more!”
“Strong Man: your muscles are as dense as granite!”
“Basher: Out of ammo? No problem!”
“Pain Train: They better hope you aren’t in power armor!”
“Rifleman: There are many like it!”
“Locksmith: Watch out for the coppers with your sly hands!”
“Demo Expert: Boom!”
“Concentrated Fire: Zero in each successive shot in VATS!”
Jon said, “Okay, that’s a mind fuck and a half. Thanks XO.”
Preston snickered, “You ain’t changing it up for a new day, General?”
Jon said, “Ah yes, I believe you are C/M today. Chief mate, or first officer on a ship.”
Preston said, “You know, speaking of ships, there’s one lodged in an old bank near Bunker Hill. Yet another settlement we need to talk too, an important one with a lot of caravans in and out. Sorry to keep dumping those on you.”
Jon got up and began putting his fatigues on, “No that's fine. We have to get to these people. They're is a ship lodged in a bank? Like, not one that fell into the sea?”
Preston said, “Nope, Dry land just on the edge. It’s crewed by robots, so I never got too close, and they leave you alone if you stay away, but man is it in a sight down the main drag. The Constitution I think it’s called.”
Jon hitched his breath. There's no way whatever robot running that thing wasn’t self aware at this point, and probably still adhering to bits of it’s original programming. “That ship is crewed? The Constitution?”
Preston nodded, “Yeah. I know it’s a big time historical artifact, just looking at it. Care to fill me in, and why the robot crew matters?”
Jon slowly said, “Preston, even before the war it was the oldest still technically active warship in the world. Built in the late 1700’s, when the revolution took place. If it’s still crewed? By self aware robots, that probably still serve the US Navy in some capacity?”
Preston nodded in understanding, “Holy shit. The thing’s ancient. And it’s still going, like the Minutemen.”
“They called her iron-sides for a reason. We have to secure her, before scavers or something finally break them. Fuck if we could even get the robots on our side, either them volunteering or trying the second amendment protocols, recognizing us as their commanders, if we could get it back in the sea and sailing.”
Preston said, “We would have a real navy. One with history.”
“With an artifact like that under our command, combined with every other revolutionary call back? We might be able to legitimately claim the legal succession of the United States out from under the Enclave, especially with their crimes. Preston, we have to secure her. As soon as we as we’re secure here.”
“Yes sir, but first we got a gang to squash, then a sat station to clear. Or did that radiation go to your brain?”
Jon chucked, “Let’s get some food in us first.”
They both ate from Jon stock, Preston already eating but never turning down double rations from the General’s store, nor the smoke that followed. They both took back to the lonely chapel, this time under the cover of dark. They moved through what cover the woods would provide. Jon was confident the observation post suspected no folly. They might when they hear and see the gunshots after they made their way to the front of the complex.
“Why would they be there.” Jon whispered as they came upon the chapel.
Preston also whispered, “The Gunners?”
Jon nodded, “Yeah. They’re mercenaries. Competent ones, maybe came from a pre-war Army formation. So they do forward observation, scout out of the way areas for the sake of prudence in case they get a job there, or choice loot, but a full outpost like that? A second one further down at the on-ramp? A third bigger one at the interchange further south?”
“It’s a lot of effort for a permanent stations in the middle of nowhere. Their power is mostly around gunner plaza, and now Quincy. The South East. We’re in the west, and a good bit North from it.”
“From what I’ve seen the highway is to broken to use it for faster travel in between their base camp and FOBs. They’re up to something, like they’re going to take territory. Permanently. Quincy and those outposts are just the start. I don’t like it.”
“You know I don’t. I see you take these conversations when you think I need a rest. I’m good to go, General.”
Jon smiled as he took a good swig of water, “A few more moments, C/M. We did double time it.”
“Yes sir.”
“Our natural borders are currently the freeway. The westbound here, and the southbound past Tempine's Bluff. When we make our declaration official, maybe they still don’t realize, writing a couple small posts off to the wastes. Take out a couple outposts, then hold like hell what he got along a defensible line. We wont be at strength to launch a true opening salvo on a relevant timetable. And we’ll never be if we cant actually secure the north west, and prepare without them breathing down our necks.”
“We’d have the high ground, use their own infrastructure against them to spy. That's a good bit of territory. We need numbers and prep to defend it. We’re in a bind. We attack, we play our hand, and maybe be prepared in time. Not really. We wait, we cant prepare to defend without them noticing. It’s not just training, but building up the settlements and getting people we can recruit.”
Jon tuned to his map, a good sat representation, still uploaded ten years ago, but still mostly relevant. He perused around his territory. Past concord he saw a small diner, the one he spied though the deadwoods on the way back from their scouting. Past that not far was an empty lot.
“Maybe. Maybe. Maybe they stay away from Lexington, because its full of raiders and ghouls, and not worth their bullets and time yet.”
“So it’s a blind spot in their watch. They maybe aren’t on the freeway there, because they know the raiders will take shots at them. They can surprise you with their craftiness. Like pipe bangers slinging 50s at you.”
“I’ve seen it back home. Not surprised at all. What’s this empty lot here?”
“Starlight drive-in. Nice flat spot for a training ground.”
“More like full base. It’s a little forward, but if it’s in a blind spot then it’s the perfect place. We get two platoons in fighting shape, 50 men, we could pull it and begin training more. Have to scout more, find all their posts. It’s not like they're hiding them.”
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“I got a feeling Lexington would be a hot button. It’s on the border, and we would be right there to respond at Starlight.”
Jon said, “Yeah, if they know we want that factory they’ll try to take and deny. Hell they'll know right off the bat. It’s so obvious, and they be plotting themselves to take it one day. Then they’ll try to outflank and hit Fort Starlight, we’d fight them back, respond from smaller posts, we could keep a lot of fighting contained there. Bleed them dry further from their power base and supply.”
“And keep them away from our settlements further back, while still keeping our supply lines shorter than theirs.”
“Never think you aren't a leader of men Preston.”
“Yes sir. We gonna get to it? Or flap all night.”
To Jon’s satisfaction, the hatch wasn’t trapped. They quietly climbed down it. Jon took point and they stepped though the tight passage that twisted and turned around the bases pipe work that cut though it. They had to step over the bones of civilians that had stormed though, and the spent casings that cut them down. It was obvious what happened here. Maybe someone saw the military coming in and out of the place, gathered a mob, killed the soldiers outside, and charged for whatever food they could get after the bombs fell.
They came to the end of the corridor and it opened to a room. Jon put his fist up, and stopped just before the light cut it off. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and then a frag was held up beside his head. He could only smile as he took the weapon. They had looted it from somewhere, and he saw just the target for it, in a place that would rile the meeting raiders up and get them to charge in front of his fire. They might even think it was a malfunction of the whirling turret, it’s sensors paroling the wrong way to spot the Minutemen about to deliver it’s master’s doom.
The rise in the voice of Red Tourette was the perfect opportunity to pull the pin and land the grenade at it’s target. It seemed she was having a late meeting, and by the contents of her yell, it was no wonder. Someone was kidnapped.
“I DON’T CARE HOW FAR IT IS! THAT’S WHY WE’RE HERE YOU IDIOT! GET OVER THERE AND FIND HER-WHAT THE FUCK I TOLD YOU TO FIX THAT TURRET”
The explosion knocked out the turret, and a gunshot to the offending raider followed a second later. Jon looked back at Preston in disbelief, and his C/M shrugged. Junky raiders doing junky raider things. Red Tourette stormed out of the makeshift room made into the decent sized alcove in the corridors to the main stockpile. She turned the wrong way, the way to inspect the damage to the turret. She only just realized the black scorching was bigger than an exploding turret when a bullet ripped though the front of her skull.
A few more raiders rushed out, and they were cut down just as quick. They either had to either jump down off a small landing before the doorway, or go down the steps, and that gave Jon and Preston the fractions of a second they needed to squeeze their triggers before they could make ready their weapons and return fire. Jon’s muzzle and Preston’s red laser outlined the men in dark blue with and evil glow each time they flashed.
Preston admittedly only gone one of the raiders. He was fast on the smooth crank, but not faster than gas tube action, and Augment reaction speed. The advantage to the laser musket, Jon had to admit to himself, was that it didn't need ammo, and the M2 didn’t even need a fusion cell to use as a capacitor. He would certainly make them by the thousands, ten of thousands. Enough for his entire army, and every man woman and child in the settlements. If everything else about their logistics went to shit, they would still have a tried and true backup. Every Minuteman a Musketeer, even if they use proper battle rifles.
Jon said, “I hear another turret, other side of that support. and some riled up raiders.”
Preston said, “One more grenade, sir.”
Jon took it, and moved into the room. He already had the pin pulled when he cleared the sight-line of the post to chuck it. The turret whirled around, beeped with the acquisition of a target, and opened fire as Jon ducked back around the sight-line, and down to his knee. It got a couple seconds of burst off over his head before the grenade detonated and put it out of action.
“Take the outlet.”
Preston followed his orders, and Jon proceeded up the stairs to the alcove. Just as he formally cleared it of hostiles the door down the short outlet corridor swung open, and Preston’s rifle thrummed with energy at the raider unlucky enough to be the one to open it. The close range laser bored out his heart.
A couple more raiders came though from the storage area after, and they died to laser and bullet before the rest wizened up and took to cover.
“Shit!”
“Fuck how many are there!”
“If they’re there she’s dead!”
“Good! Now lets kill these fucks and this place is ours! You hear me! You're dead!”
“Hey! We cant get though the lock up she had the password!”
“So go around you idiot!”
“Shut the fuck up and die already, raider fucking scum!” Jon yelled back as he slotted in a fresh mag.
“Oh that it you fuck! Rush em!”
In fairness to the raiders, their rush was intelligent. It was passages were tight, but that meant they could focus and concentrate their fire. Nearly ten raiders rounded round their cover from the area before the lockup, and the front of the formation had their weapons up and firing. One was a full auto pipe banger, and the other was an ugly looking rifle that tired to be a B.A.R, but was chambered in 45 ACP for whatever reason. They stood a good chance if Jon was a normal man. He only needed a glance for him to be able to blind fire from cover. Accurate full auto fire cut half for them down fast before the rest spit off into the room just after the outlet. Preston got his lick in as well, Killing two in the tight formation with a single shot.
“Fuck!”
“I told you to die!” Jon yelled again as he reloaded.
“Get a Molotov in there!”
And that was as mistake for them. As the raider popped out to throw his makeshift ordinance, Jon’s hyper accurate and hyper reactive fire shot it right from his hand. It’s payload exploded onto hits user, and by the screaming it caught one or two more raiders with licks of flames.
Jon used the chaos to storm through, killing the rest, the last three not dead or burning to death, before they had a chance to return fire. Preston followed somewhat sluggishly, but only compared to an Augment. He moved to the entrance of the storage area, and then cleared it with Jon right behind him. The lockup was still locked, but the side door that opened to the way around had slammed open as the men cleared the room.
Three more raiders that were stacked behind the door died quickly to the combined fire. Jon took back over the lead and proceeded though the door himself. They both moved with precision as they went thought the ducts, corridors, passages, and rooms. The raiders died either one by one, or in groups. Jon did catch a bullet to his shoulder, a gap between and chest plate and pauldron, but it was of no consequence. Only a 32, no special blend, and his immune system would dissolve and processes out the lead. It was only a few seconds before the wound closed enough to stop bleeding.
By the time they got fully around the lockup, those outside had gotten their shit together and stormed inside. Jon and Preston were in the ‘first’ room of the base, near the other lockup door, and were just finishing up the turrets in near the entrance hallway from cover as a raider in power armor screamed though. It looked like it had a proper chest, and left arm. But the rest was makeshift and poor quality. The face was a mile wide, looking like a diving helmet, and had a view port rather than proper lenses over their eyes.
It was not armored against accurate fire, and three shots screamed into it, splashing blood and gray matter out from around it. While his ball ammo wasn’t armor piercing specifically, the pointed tip of the bullet did lend to some armor piercing effects. It was certainly enough for glass only hardened against the pressure and force of depth, and not the pressure and force concentrated at a point and flying at nearly a kilometer per second into it.
The frame fell forward, it’s momentum pushing it so after it’s operator input was suddenly cut. A red laser flashed out and cut down one behind the now dead frame, and another muzzle flash ended another behind them.
“Fuck fuck fuck! Run! Fucking run!”
The last few of the raiders turned tail, and the entrance door slammed behind them. After it was set and done, nearly 50 raiders were dead at their feet. Jon said, “Damn fine fucking work, C/M”
Preston said, “You too, sir. You good?”
Jon nodded, “Yeah, sucks to get shot, but the only real threat is if I get hit in the brain stem. That would shut down breathing, and I would die of oxygen starvation like anyone else, even if I could theoretically heal from it.”
“Just not fast enough to get breathing again.”
“Yup. Blowing or tearing us to bits is also puts us down, and anywhere else in the head I would need carried off, even if I was still breathing. Augments are sturdy, but not invincible. Many of us thought we were, and they died for it.”
Preston gave a moment of silence out of respect for this General’s past, “Sounds like some shit, sir. I guess we all go though it. Your orders?”
Jon said, “Hold the entrance. I’m going to pick the choice bits from this place. Maybe get that power armor up. It’s yours.”
Not that far in the past, Preston would shit himself at just being given power armor, just like he almost did being casually handed a Pip-Boy to check his rads. He said, “Thank you, sir. I’ll admit I only drove a set once, and it was just around a lot. Visit to the Atom Cats. We hung mostly around that area, given how many settlements there were. It’s why we were able to respond so fast when the Gunners showed up.”
Jon gave his own moment of respect to his C/M’s past. He said, “We’ll you’ll get some practice on the way back. Probably forgo the helmet. What all is down there?”
Preston scoffed, “Yeah raider brains and me don’t mix. You got the Cat’s Warwick, and UP is another town like Quincy, not as big, though I don’t know what’s happened to it, if the gunners attacked it too. The Cat’s have enough hardware to defend themselves, and attacking the only farm nearby is stupid even for them. There's a couple places near by that would be good spots, but we were stretched too thin to clear them out.”
“Just trying to patrol between it all.”
“Yup, along with Goodneighbor further to the north. We did have a pretty large company, being the last real Minutemen that people actually gave a damn about. We were also inching closer to the Castle. Recon if nothing else. We know it’s full of mirelurks, which makes me say a queen attacked. The myth’s only say a sea monster. There's a whole town there too that could be rebuilt, just needs the raiders taken out. It’s not that damaged from the war, even a factory at the docks across one of the bays. The whole place is on a couple peninsulas”
“If you had defended Quincy, 1st Company would have volunteers out the ass from everywhere near by. Dozens, maybe even hundreds from all over the Commonwealth. You would have been right there to clear the castle and the town, then from new companies, with the Colonel declaring himself General by right of conquest, getting even more volunteers. Hollis had thought about this for a while, maybe even trying another CPG himself. He just needed a catalyst, a morale victory. Their deaths wont be in vain.”
Preston solemnly said, “Yes sir.”
Jon walked his way back though the stockpile. There was a massive amount of pre-war food there, though he didn’t know how much he would trust it, except maybe as livestock feed. He figured that any animal in the wastes had to be able to eat just about anything to get by. They would have to given the amount of game he saw so far, and how little they have to eat by his standards. Also a massive stockpile of booze. That would be useful for his corpsmen. And also pallets of pre-war money. He would have to ask Preston it’s usefulness.
As he backed tracked though, he pulled a fusion core from a generator. There was a bit of gold as well towards the end of the beginning, though he didn’t have that eyed for it’s value as currency. It would no doubt still be valuable for the same reason caps are valuable, scarcity, but it was much more valuable for electronics work. He threw the few bars from the safe into his ruck.
Jon then entered the first room again, and picked his way thought the meeting room. It also doubled as Red’s private quarters. On the meeting table there were a few magazines, in particular a covert operations manual, and soldier of fortune magazines as well. He spied a terminal, and checked it’s logs.
Her sister was kidnapped while leading a defense outside, and was being held hostage by Tower Tom in exchange for food. They spoke in code though the letters, and when the code was gibberish, ie no longer there, Red knew something was up.
There was also a control function for the turrets in and around the complex. The one's inside were done, but they would make good parts to keep the one’s outside running when they could get to them.
If they could. Jon didn’t put it past the Gunners to take what they could after Jon and Preston left, if they saw the place now empty in the morning. Jon would only be able to send people by night, to carry what they can carry unless he wanted them to see and follow his caravans back to his settlements. At the end of the day, they might not do something like that, but they already did to Quincy for whatever reason, and he wouldn't let them do it to sanctuary or other places.
He left the room after looking Red’s personal beginnings, and began digging though the raiders themselves for their loot. One piece stood out above all, in Red’s hands. A 45 ACP 1911A1. He picked it up and began salivating.
He whispered, “A fucking singer. A real fucking singer. Leave it to the fucking raiders to not know they have the rarest fucking gun in the wastes. Look at the rust. I’ll clean you up, have Old Paul look at you.”
He replaced his sidearm, and stuffed it in his belt so he could give it to Preston. Talking a bundle of guns that looked acceptable, and all of their ammo, he walked back through the complex towards the entrance. He would certainly man this post, and use it for it’s intended purpose. When he could spare the Minutemen for it.
He came upon Preston holding the corner down the hall to the entrance. Preston gave a nod and said, “Sir, outside is clear. Took a peak out though the bunker windows before falling back. Also saw the turrets shut down. I take it that was you?”
Jon said, “Mhm. Red had a master control. She was feuding with Tower Tom at the brewery. Her sister was kidnapped, and she was sure she died. It what she was yelling about. They spoke in code until they didn’t.”
Preston shrugged, “One more dead raider. Maybe Tom will piss someone else off and get had. As you can see, I got the power armor moved off to the side. Definitely have to have Sturgis look at it. It’s also low on gas. About 10%. That’s when you want to pull. It gets a lot harder to recharge if they’re spent, if you can even find what you need to do it. The Atom Cats can. Other people like the Brotherhood.”
Jon said, “Here, one I found at the red rocket. Also got one more, and maybe there’s another in the lockup. I have the password.”
Jon placed his lashed together bundle down and entered the password into the lockup terminal. Inside was yet more food, money, some gold, a fusion core as Jon thought, and a catapult launcher complete with a fat man. Better quality guns and plenty of ammo to boot. Jon could only shake his head, of course that’s how they fire man portable nuclear weapons. He put what he could in his ruck, and went back to Preston for his ruck to fill it.
Preston was in the armor with is Minuteman helmet on and his rifle cradled carefully in his mechanical hands, unable to fire it with the trigger guard. He said, “We will be a little vulnerable going back. But you’ll have a fucking fat-man at the ready, so we should be good.”
Jon snickered as he carefully put down the launcher and it’s device, “They have a lot of fucking loot in there. We have to take as much as possible, in case the gunners comb though it. Send small teams by night to grab what they can. Let them use the power armor if we have to. It’s actually a lot quieter when its servos aren't grinding on two centuries of dis and misuse.”
“Yes sir, take my pack.”
Jon smiled, “Sounded a little like an order there, C/M”
Preston scoffed with mirth.