Chapter 16 “Recharge our batteries.”

“Hey!” Charlie kicked the canvas bed Rosie slept on, jolting her awake into the afternoon sun. “Get your wastrel gear on, we got the drop for Jones.” Charlie already wore her black leather jacket and jeans.

Rosie went inside to find everything from the previous day's haul still labelled with a note. ‘NO.’ She heard Charlie’s voice say it each time she saw it, followed by being told to get some rest. Rosie smiled as she saw Charlie had subtly laid out clothes for her to wear, giving her the option while not forcing her.

She dressed in pale blue jeans, a white t shirt, and a dark pressed wool coat. The sleeve cut wide to hide the pipboy. Rosie knew any of the more exotic gear would have to stay. Opting for the axe in her boot, the throwing knives in reach on either hip, and her nine millimetre at the small of her back.

Outside she found Paul in his new dull green armour, using the lashed rope handles to curl the fuel drums like weights. Matt wore his blacks. He sat wrapping sackcloth around the antique sniper rifle and the carbines from the train. He looked somewhat disheartened as he handed Rosie the rifle and handed off the wrapped assault carbines, still too heavy for him. The compact smg and two tone pistol seemed to make up for it.

They reached the drop site just as the sun set. They ditched the gear and Rosie took point with Charlie, sweeping the ruins along the single street. Nothing had changed, deserted, picked clean long ago.

“Clear.” Rosie called over the comm. Paul stomped along the street as Rosie guided him to place the drums in the spot Janey had been. Rosie undid the ropes and heaved the barrels upright.

“Call it Tornado.” Charlie approached, Rosie saw the trust in her face but that made her nervous.

“Cyclone, sight in on the street. Hurricane take the armour inside, you can breach the wall to the alley if you have to. Whirlwind and I will cover the south exit from either side.” Rosie tried to keep a questioning tone from her voice.

“Solid copy Tornado. You heard her boys, hurry up and wait.”

“They’re late.” Charlie complained.

“They’re always fucking late.” Rosie quipped, remembering being told the same thing. Unlike the previous night spent here, the evening has passed quickly. Rosie busied herself, still trying to crack the Brotherhood comm network. She got nowhere, it felt like signals from the armour just disappeared into the ether. Sketching, and the bad jokes she didn’t get kept her mood calm but with noon been and gone things had grown tense.

“Movement. Raiders times four, armed and inbound.” Matt’s words came as a relief to everyone. Rosie squeezed into the ever shrinking shadows, levelling her carbine on the window frame. The four moved in, knowing they were watched. Rosie recognised the leader from the previous meeting. His manner calm, eased by just the right amount of something.

“Check 'em.” The leader barked as he looked around. One of the others produced a length of hose and began to syphon the jet fuel into tin cans. From this distance Rosie could hear her splutter and cough.

“We’re good.” The tin cans melted like candles in seconds. The raiders lashed handles to the barrels as the leader tossed down five pouches.

“Same time next week.” The leader yelled and they headed south. Rosie had thought that once they had made the pick up without incident her tension would ease. It only grew as she met Charlie in the street.

Moving in the daylight without taking cover took effort. Charlie kicked at the broken blacktop, making more noise than needed. She threw fist sized hunks at the pouches, hard enough to scatter them, enough force to trip any kind rigged trap.

“Call it.” Charlie cinched her pack tight and stood.

“We’re headed north, how copy?”

“Solid copy Tornado. We’ve got your six.” The thought of Matt with the antique rifle and Paul in the armour didn’t make Rosie feel better. All she could think of was the word she learned yesterday. Bait.

Rosie strode openly down the road with Charlie at her side, going against every instinct taught her. “Let’s put it together, while it’s fresh.” Charlie gave her something else to think about.

“The leader is the same one from last time.” Rosie went first at Charlie’s direction.

“They’re well fed, quick and quiet. Properly medicated too.” Charlie had been just as close as Rosie.

“They weren't carrying enough water to have come far. And they would have brought something better for the drums.” Matt had the best view of all.

“Hurricane?” Charlie teased Paul over the comm, knowing his answer.

“I didn’t see shit.” Paul answered after a pause. He’d spent the day inside the armour, hidden in a back room. Rosie had been impressed with the discipline it took. “Fuck you Whirlwind, how copy?”

“Solid copy.” Charlie stopped to get her bearings. “Any sign of our new friends?”

“Negative.”

“Alright, We’re going off comm. Whirlwind out.”

“Here.” Charlie held out her pack for Rosie to take. “Your op, your spoils.”

“Thanks.” Rosie had no idea what to do with fifty caps, never mind five thousand.

They walked through the trees again, moving quick and quiet. The ground began to climb, leaving an open plain stretching out below. Squares of light crested in the centre of four wide roads. “Is that the Four Corners?” Rosie wanted to be sure.

“Fucking shit hole.” Charlie stopped and stared for a moment. “If I could push a button and make that place disappear…” She trailed off then pressed on sharply. “Come on.” Before long Rosie saw the Tower with power loom into view.

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“It’s always good to go somewhere after a meet. Get lost in the crowds, wait around, look out for the same faces.” Charlie stepped closer as they drew nearer to the wall.

“Makes sense.” Rosie saw the value in the tactic, but sensed Charlie had something else in mind. The first time Rosie had reached a gate to Shadowtown she’d all but ran through it in fear. Not this time. Now Rosie stopped in the stripped out building that formed the gatehouse, staring at the hulking Sentry bot.

The system brought up a full schematic. She recognised the design for the actuators, the arm sockets, and the optical sensors. Janey’s design focused on speed and balance, the need to function around people. The near motionless block of steel the size of a truck cab focused on raw power.

“You’re ok girl, go ahead.” Rosie looked up to see a leather clad deputy calling down to her. Charlie turned and laughed, guessing Rosie didn’t feel scared.

Her first visit to the Shadowtown night market had started filled with fear and stress, things pretty much stayed that way till she left. Now, as she sat with Charlie drinking something sweet and warm, Rosie began to feel it coming back. Deep breathing brought a few moments of calm. Enough to plot an escape route through a dark alley and pick out some good cover in a nearby brick building. “Anything?”

“No.” Rosie swept the faces around her, nothing familiar. Everyone around carried weapons visibly. Some grouped round stalls, others stood atop walkways. She began to pick out patterns in the people, the same coats, similar weapons and hair styles. “Merc’s, right?”

“Yeah. Some here for work, some to party. Steer clear of them, they’ll steer clear of you. How’s your hot chocolate?” Charlie leaned in, drinking hers first.

“Pretty good.” Rosie liked the sweet drink, she cared less for the alcoholic aftertaste.

“We can head out if you want, but…” Charlie waited till Rosie made eye contact. “The boys are worried about you.” Rosie had known something had been eating at Charlie, it still caught her off guard.

“Why?” She managed not to sound defensive.

“When you were down...before we met, how many hours a day did you ‘work’?” Charlie knew the answer already.

“Twelve.” Rosie spat the word out.

“And the day before we left, how long were you at your bench?”

“That’s completely different!” Rosie sounded defensive now. Charlie held up a hand to get an answer.

“I don’t know, six maybe.” Rosie lied.

“Try nine. We counted.” Rosie twitched as she fought the urge to yell. “We watch people Rosie, we notice things. How long did you sleep before we left?”

“Six hours.”

“No, four.” Rosie couldn’t find an answer that didn’t prove Charlie’s point.

“Wait, you said the boys are worried, you’re not?” Rosie leant back, seeing Charlie smile.

“No, I’m not. They think that things might be a bit much for you. That you’d rather be working at your bench because it’s familiar.” Charlie had noticed something that Rosie hadn’t, not fully at least.

“And what do you think?” Rosie dropped any notion of being upset, seeking only advice.

“It takes something to love people who risk their lives, a different kind of strength. If you need to stay busy, fine.” Charlie sat back waiting for a response.

“Every time I think about John I miss him, then I get angry at him. Nine hours at a bench is better than nine seconds of that.” Rosie had hoped the deep vein of anger she’d mined for years would run dry outside the Vault. It hadn’t.

“That’ll pass, I promise.” Charlie’s face broke into a smile. “I bet you a thousand caps you jump on him first chance you get.” Rosie laughed and blushed as Charlie laughed too. “That’s it isn’t it! Listen I can lend you Paul, he’d do charity work.” Rosie groaned and laughed harder still.

“We’ll take the day tomorrow. Unwind…” Charlie thought of something funny. “Recharge our batteries.” Rosie scoffed, she wanted to show Charlie the battery designed to last a lifetime. She checked it twice, just to be sure. Forty two per cent. Then forty one.

Rosie had noticed the increased drain after resetting the device, dropping a full ten per cent in a month. The timeline over the last few weeks showed huge spikes. The Grand. Two of the biggest spikes were tagged with the word defibrillator. The incapacitation and direct override of Janey, the link to the Velo were draining ever more the further apart they were. She shut down the link to the aircraft, but left Janey connected. She'd expected a drop in charge, but not this much.

Rosie checked the analytics. It seemed the increased drain on the pipboy fusion core had destabilised it. The more power she needed the less efficient it became. She knew it’d have to be changed, and that meant a chance of the white hot pain returning. The agony that made a quick death seem merciful.

“Ready?” Charlie snapped Rosie out of the graphs and equations. She couldn’t remember what Charlie meant.

“Sure.”

A few paces brought Rosie a degree of calm. The core could be replaced. The slot designed to adjust to take different variations, even a triple stack of micro cells would buy time. Rosie calculated ten per cent would give enough residual charge to swap safely.

She also knew that going below that could mean she’d be unable to do it herself. If the core fell from her grasp, or she twitched. She didn’t want to think about that. She’d have to tell Charlie. Tomorrow, she thought, as Charlie gleefully devoured fried meat on a stick from a vendor, thrusting one at Rosie.