Chapter 36 “Never keep a Lady waiting, didn’t they teach you that.”

John spent the morning in his armour, dragging the Vertibird into the fenced in forest. Rubber wheels and mechanised feet gouged at the soft earth. He detached one of the miniguns, swinging free the ammo box by bumping into it backwards so it attached to his back. Then he walked into the soon to be workshop by his house and left the armour there, feeling like he missed it already.

“Hey John.” Wallace had been watching for a while. “Wanna see what I did with that code?”

John followed the excited boy to a new structure near the wall, buzzing with robotic activity. An Assaultron cut precise shapes from recovered and restored steel panelling. The cut out shapes, dropping onto rollers and sliding into an automated press. A far less agile Protectron removed the pressed steel, sliding them along to a person who fitted pre-made parts inside and passed them on.

Another faux feminine bot used its three pronged hands to attach barrels, then stocks. The last pair of people added grips and finishing touches. Robco handed him a new looking assault rifle and John checked it over.

“Not bad.” John tried aiming and turning, impressing with his form.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” Robco pretended he didn’t see Wallace. “And this other boy, small, annoying. I forget his name.”

“I used that code to write my own commands.” Wallace unrolled a piece of wallpaper, covered with code that looked to be printed right off a screen. “Set the laser low enough and it etches.” Wallace cut John off before he asked a mundane question.

“Junior started ‘em out with chainmail, a few days later shotguns, and started on these last week.” Robco stared at his grandson as he spoke, filled with pride. “It’s not fast.”

“Yet.” Wallace piped up.

“But we get a case a week, double if we restore things. And you get a piece, of course.” Robco nodded to John and wouldn’t let him refuse a share of the profits.

John knew the rugged design of those rifles well. The copies weren't as heavy, or finely made, as his own yet it would be far better to have one and not need it.

“Wallace, this is amazing.” John had just seen the secrets of the Vault, and this impressed him more. The people out here weren't hiding, despite knowing the dangers. They were fighting back. Reclaiming and adapting, not the greedy, idle wastrels the Brotherhood liked to see them as.

“It’s just a start.” John believed the look in the boy’s eyes.

John ate a breakfast of toasted bread and found Robco taking notes in the family workshop. Wallace tugged at John’s coat and pulled him to a silver orb. A mesh section covering sensors, broken antennas, not much bigger than the terminal connected to it.

“Do you know what this is?” Wallace asked, hinting.

“We’re headed out Junior.” Robco used his flat tone. “I told you it’s fried.” John heard the unearned knowledge that rarely whispered anymore and answered.

“It’s an Eyebot. Ther—”

“They hover! Magnetic repulsion. Boost radio signals, fly out for miles and report back. Found it a month ago, but.” Wallace seemed to know what his grandfather thought.

“Wallace, those stories on the radio and in comic books aren’t real, you know that.” Robco checked his new antique watch so the boy could see.

“I know.” Wallace snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with it though.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it because it's a lump of scrap. It’s too broken for you to find what’s wrong with the damn thing.” Robco grew impatient, the stresses of the night before weighing heavy. “Five minutes.”

“Can I check it with the, your pipboy?” Wallace asked. “Please.”

“Sure.” John felt glad to help with something that Wallace liked, even if it came from a belief in something from a comic book. Two minutes later Wallace had connected the pipboy and ran a diagnostic that didn’t get past three percent.

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“I told you, chores please, then lessons.” Robco hurried the boy out and covered the orb. “Saw a man lose his hand in one of them things when the magnet turned on. Had to cut him free myself. Damn things.”

“My, isn’t it nice to be under the trees with both boots on the ground.” Robco joked as he and John walked to Shadowtown. John laughed, not able to fly anywhere near the Tower on orders from Sara.

John checked his gear out of habit as he crossed the bridge. He’d worn the same shirt and jeans under his fine leather coat, that had been easy, but picking his gear took longer. Sara would always switch out his gear if he got it wrong. Now he had no idea. He tied cord around the grip of the rose carved pistol, just in case. And had taken his assault rifle with the curved mags tied double.

They reached the gates of Shadowtown in the afternoon, joining a steady flow of people through the colourful marketplace. “This is it.” Robco pointed John at a line of people that went round a corner before going inside an old brick building. “I’m going to get some shopping done, make a few trades.” Robco took the heavy duffle bag from John.

“Where should I meet you?” John asked, determined not to be a hindrance this time. Robco laughed.

“I’ll be done before you.”

Hours passed as John shuffled forward in line. He didn’t mind. The people and the music provided a shifting canvas of life. “Hey Buddy, got a light?” A man a few people down from John yelled out to the passing bot. A walking fridge bot like the one John had escorted. The lumbering rectangle clomped over, sparking a flame from its crude hand.

“Hey Buddy,” John yelled, trying not to laugh. “How about a cold one?”

“Sure...thing...buddy.” The bot had a crude voice. John dropped the ten caps into the slot and the bot handed him an ice cold Nuka Cola. He wondered if it could be the same bot as it clomped away, selling drinks and lighting cigarettes.

John had made it inside the building. The line split, leading to a pair of mesh windows, ‘in’ above one and ‘out’ above the other. People deposited letters and packages through sliding doors in the steel wall, and left from a different exit. The opposite happening on the other side.

A woman bickered about a package that hadn’t arrived, a man argued over the weight of something. Then John arrived at the window. “What does this say?” The man in the window asked.

“Forward Operating Base Sierra.” He’d had to write it himself so Sara would trust it. Adding a number that would get the letter to her quarters from the southern base that served as the contact point for the Brotherhood. The courier wrote it again underneath, but didn’t need to for the letter to Beverly. “Hundred caps.” John tossed the pouch through and felt a little jolt of hope.

“How Lon—”

“Takes as long as it takes. Price is the same. Next!”

John left from a separate door and found Robco waiting for him. “Have fun at the Post Office?”

“Not really.”

“They’re an alright bunch, got a great bar upstairs but it’s couriers and invited guests only. Did you tip them?”

“Tip them what?” John had forgotten something. “Shit.”

“Relax, it’s only paper. Next time though, twenty percent extra.”

Robco led John into a quiet square off the market place. Craftsmen worked outside their doors. Tinkering with small mechanisms in the sun, magnifying glasses and mirrors reflecting light.

“Made some inquiries about cloth, bulk orders.” Robco’s face told him it would be expensive. “I bought a good selection of things I can think they can make.” Robco corrected himself. “To be clear there’s nothing they can’t make down there. You get that right? You could build what would take you a month to scavenge, and that’s with transport.”

“I know, but it would look like that place. It can’t look like that Robco, it has to be real.” John had taken Robco down to level six for this very reason. Despite the shame and the pity it brought.

“I get it, let me think on it. Now there’s something else, and I didn’t bring it up for two reasons. One because I don’t think it’s the best idea, and two, I thought you had enough caps.”

“Doesn’t seem like I have a choice.” John half joked.

“Yeah, but it’s a good sign you know that.” Robco still looked hesitant. “Billy’s been asking after you.” John hadn’t seen Billy since they both saw the Abomination. “First, to check on you.” Robco made sure John understood that. “Then because he's got a lead.” Robco pointed to the ground. John stopped himself from blurting out Vault.

“Alright.” John would at least hear what he had to say.

“I’ve known Billy since he were not much older than Junior. He was friends with my son.” John picked up on the mixed look and tone at the mention of Wallace senior. “He’s a lot of things, he’s been clean a long time but I gotta ask. When you went to the City that night, was Billy acting strange, disappearing and coming back in a better mood?”

“He wasn’t high.” John saw a shred of hope vanish. “Abomination…” John trailed off, thinking of that night. The night Sara saved him. “They were people once. Someone made them like that. Sara told me that we’re lucky here. They arrived and cleaned out what few were here. They’re drawn to the radiation, we don’t have a lot so they’re rare.”

“Son, you remember what I told those folks last night.” Robco started counting on his fingers. “Me, my daddy, and his daddy, have lived here. No one heard a damn thing about mutants till those…” John saw Robco stop himself from saying it.

“Friends of mine arrived. It’s ok, I get it.” Sara had explained this to him too. “When we, they, we, arrive somewhere new, they start finding things that most people don’t go looking for.” It made perfect sense to John, he’d spent months in the field and saw a handful of people that weren’t Brotherhood.

John stopped before repeating what Sara said next. Ignorant and ungrateful wastrels blaming the Brotherhood for finding monsters on their doorstep. John lent in to whisper. “There are thousands of those things back west. The Brotherhood is the only thing holding them back.” John didn’t know if Robco believed him, or he just didn’t want to.

“Billy said he put one down with a rifle like this.” Robco tapped his copied rifle.

“He did.” John remembered that sound and slowed snapshot of horror. “High calibre, full auto, twice as much ammo as you think.” John laughed to himself at quoting Sentinel Grimm.

“I gotta say, what you did, going in for a stranger like that. Brave son, real brave.” Robco shoved him from across the table. “And plenty fucking stupid.”

“I had a friend who said the same thing.”

“Smart, handsome fellow I’d wager.” Robco straightened his coat as he stood, complimenting himself.

“Half the time he yelled at me and I wanted to punch him.” He made a note to tell Robco about Sentinel Grimm and the insults, over a few drinks.

John thought about the only other sentinel he’d known, a hallowed title amongst the Brotherhood. “The man I tried to save.” John heard the pinned man’s anguished cries and the sound of chewing. “If he, or any sworn knight, would have seen a stranger held by those things, they would have done the same thing.” He saw Robco respected that at least.

“So, Billy’s place?” John asked, ready to hear about a profitable lead.

“Never keep a Lady waiting, didn’t they teach you that.”