Chapter 9: Considerations
It had been a few days since Olivia was cleared. Jon decided to take them for rest, tinkering, and music. One of those days had brought rain. His second had taken it upon himself to escort the salvage team to the federal ration stockpile, and that was perfectly fine with Jon. He spent his time cleaning up his property more, tending his crops as he had too. They were just beginning to really grow, and would provide him with plenty of fresh fruit. He also had plots set up with hemp plants, so he could start making pipe leaf for both pipes and cooks. They were just beginning to shoot up as well.
Jon spent a lot of time as well at his terminal, programming ASAMs for various uses. Jake was right, he didn’t want to rely of the shops, or even the plants wholesale. Each press, hobbyist or industrial, was it’s own strategic resource that had to be carefully manged for the benefit of the state. At least until the state no longer needed to command dictatorial economic control over such things.
The first step on that road was giving people jobs, in particular plots they could put in their homes, or shops, or wherever to craft and make. Plots that have people making and doing things for themselves, supplemented by automation when necessary, so automation could fuel his war machine. It was also a stop gap in case his plants were ever targeted for take or deny, which they would be. His industrial base could be converted from civilian shops to military uses, the workshops making what’s needed to do so, while civilian tooling was put off to the side. If his plants could be preserved, then he could have and eat his cake when it came to war production, and his only limit would be manpower.
Manpower was walking towards him as he stepped out for his once or twice daily smoke, a Nuka-Cola in his hand. If he was ghoulish and rad resistant, he might as well drink it. Caffeine was one of the few drugs that worked on Augments. He expected people would eventually want to sign up, as more had straggled in a few at a time to the growing network, friends calling their friends by one method or another.
It was late afternoon, and his Colonel was walking up the road, and behind him were four people, two men and two woman, and they were marching in perfect formation. This would be good Jon knew.
“Second. How went your recce and salvage operations?”
“Good, General. They caught on this morning. I made a third trip back just to scout. We got most of the good stuff. They’ll know someone went though it though.”
Jon shrugged it off as he took a swig, and a puff, “The question is what will they do about it, and probably nothing since they would have to come this far north to find out. Who’s these sturdy looking people behind you.”
“Volunteers, sir. I’ll let them introduce themselves.”
Their leader marched up, and stood at attention, but intelligently didn’t salute. Jon smiled as he spoke with a thick accent, “Bill Barr. We’re former third company, sir.”
Jon took one look at the short, angry looking red headed Bostonian. He said, “Sgt. Barr, do tell why you previously deserted your post.”
There was no shame in doing that in the past few years, so Sgt. Barr took it in stride, “Colonel Wire ran third company. After General Becker died, things went to shit, as you know sir. We were all greenhorns, but we knew that we weren't goin down a good path. Tried merc work to get by, eventually turned full raider. We wanted no part ah that. Struck out on our own. To that bastard’s credit, he let folk leave on good terms.”
Jon nodded, “A perfectly acceptable reason. I meant no offense.”
Sgt. Barr said, “None Taken, sir. If the Minutemen are here to stay this time, then we’re in. we’ve been doing our own merc work these past few years, and we completed basic training.”
Jon nodded, “You understand that this is all very unofficial. I haven't even paid him yet.”
Preston smirked, “You were right General. I am doing it for free. As long as I’m fed.”
The group chucked, and the Sgt. Said, “Yes sir. Colonel Garvey filled us in. This is a real army we’re joining, and it’s real fast and lose right now. While our bread and butter is caravan escorts, we like fast and lose every once in a while.”
Jon smiled, seeing the same love for the game he had, “Keeps the blood flowing.”
“Yes sir.”
Jon had to know, “Are there any things between you?”
He broke his discipline a moment to shift nervously, “There’s a long term arrangement. We understand if that’s a problem.”
Jon breathed deeply before answering, “It will not, because you are all the same rank. You will lead my first fire teams. If you prove competent, you will lead the first platoons. If you are even more competent you will lead the first companies. Sargents lead teams, lieutenants platoons, captain’s companies, and we’ll figure out further rank structure when necessary. All you need to know is your chain starts with Colonel Garvey and ends with General me. Understood?”
“Yes sir!” They all said confidently. Jon didn’t need them to yell all the way to what’s left of China. The Minutemen were smart to cut out most of the bullshit that made ‘military discipline’ if for no other reason than to protect the training officers own lives in the field, which was everywhere in the wasteland.
“Do not let it become an issue.”
Sgt. Bill said, “I promise it wont sir. We left Tracy for dead, because we had to, but shes a fucking bad ass that made it out anyway. It sucked, but we know the hard calls.”
Jon nodded, “Colonel? Your recommendations? We cant let just anyone in. Not at this juncture.”
Preston said, “They came with me on the scouting run. That’s why they’re even here. Wire ran a tight outfit from what I know. Whatever raiders he’s got now will be good.”
“And where are those raiders?”
“Libertalia. I’ll update your map.”
Jon nodded again, a ponderous look in his eye, “Thank you for the intelligence. Garvey, keep them on two small patrols. Teams of two. First between Sanctuary Concorde and Abernathy. Send one between Sanctuary and Olivia. Stick to the deadwoods and cover in that area, do not let the Gunner outpost see you in the open, and do not touch the junkyard near there.”
“Yes sir!”
“Good. I cleared those places to the north east of hostiles a few days ago, so the patrols are superficial, but necessary. However that means we can pull you from them when needed for special missions.”
“Yes sir!”
“Alright, dismissed. Get some rest and start tomorrow. Colonel, a few more words.”
As they four walked away, Preston said, “Call it, General.”
“Good job.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s Abernathy’s. I haven't left the station for a few days.”
“Good sir. The Hemp fields are growing, and he’s expanding food plots as well. Blake knows things are getting bigger up here. He’s even picked up a few extra hands from the stragglers coming in.”
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“What’s the word on us like. You know?”
“Whispers. A couple folks here and there saying there's some new settlements, so a couple folks make the trip up just to see. We’re a good way’s outside the city and from anywhere else scavers and settlers make their way in.”
“Good, just enough to keep some people coming in, but not to much right now. Hows our water?”
“Not bad. The wells are enough for now, and the Stockpile actually had some parts for water purifiers. Sturgis and Old Paul are going to work it. Plenty of water around Sanctuary.”
Jon smiled a shark smile, “And we got it right out from under those bastards. That's an important find. Once again, good work and give the pair my compliments as well. The power armor?”
“Fixed up, but still missing a lot of pieces. They’re going to work on makeshift plate, but something better than what the raiders come up with, at least until we can find or make more armor. For now we’re just combining the good pieces on my frame. Still don’t have a helmet, and we still need guns we can actually use with the thing”
“I’ll try my hand at designing one. Probably just something that’s already out there with some modifications to be used by a walking tank. Based on some of the weapon designs I’ve seen, I don’t want to know what they made specifically for it. I don’t think we can take the stain on our ammo for the true heavy weapons.”
“Probably not. Ive seen those handmade rifles like one of the raiders had take a drum mag. Something like that?”
Jon tapped his foot as he thought about it. Honesty if there's already com-bloc pattern rifles out there and being made, perhaps he would forgo the extra machining required to make service rifles like his. While properly trained troops had no problem maintaining their Stoner patterns, the Kalashnikov came apart and put back together easier. It was overall a less complicated weapon. With the armor they had in this land, that he knew the Gunners were using where ever they could, he would also need the stopping power of a larger caliber. And he could put true machine guns in the hands of his power armor corps using the same round. Non musket snipers and DMRs as well.
Simplifying the logistics chain took priority, and it wasn’t much of a compromise. The weight was a possible issue, but from what he’s seen the average person is fitter than average, without real effort or training. A combination of higher background radiation, the low doses of FEV though environmental vectors having it’s intended effect in some capacity, and harsh lifestyle demanding a higher level of fitness.
He said, “Perhaps I’m not as committed to the service rifle. The Kalashnikov is also a good rifle. If raiders can make them, so can we.”
“Even better.”
“Yeah. Are those two getting help?”
“Yes sir. A few of the people were junkers. They’re getting the help they need.”
“Good. Have them make some prototypes. I’m sure they could make a parts template and hack it into the workshop though an ASAM. Machine what they have to from there on smith plots. Get some sleep yourself. Dismissed.”
“Yes sir.”
His radio clicked, and it was Jake’s private frequency, “Hey, slick.”
“Cowpoke.”
“Care for a spin to my neck of the woods?”
“Already spinning, cowpoke. Slick out.”
Jon picked up his helmet, a spare mag for his rifle, but didn’t worry about the rest of his kit. Dogmeat perked up and went for a walk with his companion. Jon leaned down and gave him a scratch and a couple pats to his happy pants.
He tuned his radio, and listened an noir audio drama about a vault dweller hiring a wasteland PI to solve a murder. It was of course a political conspiracy resulting from the vault experiment. Jon smiled at the near professional production quality, featuring an original soundtrack and the works. He also smiled at the fact that Vault-Tech was a joke, so much so it simply a familiar plot dressing for old tropes.
He wouldn't have to convince anyone that the Enclave and Vault-Tech were ontologically evil, and thus could do no wrong to them. There weren’t many true believers, and it’s at least a credit to Brotherhood psychological operations that people know far and wide who and what they fought. There were probably other bunkers with other rats that did other things further away he simply hadn’t gotten word of yet. Others hiding yet. More vaults with people in danger, even if they don’t know it.
His last thoughts before he reached the shop was that he still had to find nick, and get to Diamond city. For the case, and to bring someone crazy enough to detect in the wastes into the fold. The question was did he go in full uniform through his enemies sight lines. The answer was yes. He wasn’t afraid of them or anyone, no matter how much caution he paid those who needed paid. Where he went, the Minutemen went. His wrath would befall them if they did something about it.
“Cowpoke.”
“Slick, good news and bad news.”
“Respectively.”
“Good news is Concorde has power. I reactivated the plutonium well. It’s in great condition, and all I had to do was fix up the generator to kick start it with a parts order to Sturgis, after clearing a few critters. Looked like it was installed just before the war, and has centuries of gas. Blew most of the bulbs in this place when it fired up.”
John smiled warmly, “Out-fucking-standing, cowpoke. The town has some real fucking power, and we could probably divy it up if we fix existing lines. Fucking great. Now, bad news.”
“Bad news is this com hub ain’t worth a damn. Its parts are all degraded. If I try to fire it up, it’s gonna blow every capacitor and diode in the thing.”
“And then it gets a lot harder to study, reverse engineer if necessary.”
“Yup. Always on the ball, slick. I put my feelers out to my guy. His name is The Ron. The. Very important. He’s got a shop in Diamond City. For what you asked for too.”
Jon nodded, “Not the end of the world. I need to go there anyway, and word is already in the air. I also need to stop by a couple settlements.”
Jake said, “You can pick up the word when it’s ready. Set a meet. Here’s some caps for it, the agreed payment, all of it coming from our friends the raiders.”
Jon nodded, “Thanks. How’s our ASAM supply?”
Jake said, “Not great, but not bad either. They can be reprogrammed at will, and the stuff you make doesn’t just explode. Most folk don’t want their bed monitoring them like the ASAM can anyway, so you only really need one or two set to interior plots for beds and such to pass the templates. Then just put the stuff you make wherever.”
Jon nodded, “We’ll have to figure out how to make them. Maybe in these ASAM leads. This guy good?”
Jake said, “Yeah. I’ll admit though, he’s a little over the top. It’s a whole character he does, but he’s also got a real library of info. File cabinets and shelves up the wall. He can pull leads out of 200 year old grocery receipts.”
Jon sagely, sarcastically said, “Know the man’s breakfast, know the man.”
Jake lost it, bracing himself on his counter, banging it with his free hand, “Slick, that’s an exact fucking quote!”
Jon lost his own control, and brought his knee up hard to slap it just as hard. Dogmeat gave a happy few barks, happy to be apart of the loud noises and merriment. They said their goodbyes and Jon walked off back to his station. His thoughts were in a bind. He needed to get to DC, but that meant leaving the network. While he trusted his people, how many raiders were still in Lexington. He also promised Abernathy that he would get that locket. The problem is what do the Gunners do in response to an empty Lexington. They had already been shown to be reactive, however sluggishly.
He needed more strength. He was weak. By the ancient rules of warfare he had to appear strong. By scouting ahead and recruiting more settlements. Putting on a strong show, thus giving him more territory, more land, more resources. He just had to hope the north-west bastion would hold without him, and that the two he was thinking about were away from gunner observation posts.
He walked all the way to Sanctuary, thinking, and found his new recruits setting around a fire pit near the bridge, so they could still keep an eye on the road in even if they were resting by order. Jon gave them a hand to stay seated.
He needed next to Sgt. Barr’s seat with his map up. He said, “I intend to go to Diamond City along this route. Down the rail, across the river, and then cut in along here. Is that advisable?”
He nodded, “Yes sir. That’s basically the path. Its got the least amount of super mutants and raiders between DC and the outskirts. You got a couple smaller settlements there, and a Vault 81 on the hill over Walden Pond.”
Jon didn’t hesitate, “And what goes on in that vault Sargent?”
Sgt. Barr smirked, “You got a grudge I see. As far as I know its a working vault. Almost two thousand people in there, cramped, but working.”
“Ever actually see the inside?”
“Not the vault itself. The reception area were the armed guards always stayed. There were plenty of people. And they all looked like normal hard workin folks happy to trade. They even had bathrooms and stuff. Food and water for the hands. They opened about ten years ago because everything started breaking down apparently. They needed tools and parts.”
Jon nodded, “Hmm. Something else is going on there.”
“I’m sure of it, sir. Its Vault-Tech. But the folks there are decent, so maybe they don’t know what’s up.”
“Thank you Sargent. Sargents.”
“General” They all said at roughly the same time, given more confidence in the staying power of the Minutemen.
Jon went back to his station to ponder his next steps, and gets some sleep. As he lay in bed he tuned his radio to DCR, and Johnny Cash was actually playing.
The song finished in its nervous host piped up, “Soooooo, uhhhhh I just got the word, you know, if you heard the gunshots and everything. A good source, for sure. For sure. Like, every one of the under stands residents are dead. It was a just a massive massive gunfight in the stands. You all heard it, we all did, of course, the hundreds of gun shots. Uhhhhhh, there was a robbery, and like everyone died there or something, and it was the same time Paul Pembroke went missing, so maybe he was involved, or he got the hell out or something because he knew something was about to go down in a big way. Look, all I know is it was a thing, it started another thing, more things, things became shooting. Dozens are dead, and Wellingham is damaged beyond repair. Like the only people alive up there are their wives, and some of them are dead too. Now I’m not making any accusations or anything, buuuttt if you were involved in this, you should like watch your back, like forever.”