Chapter 12 The true power of his genius

“Burton, wake up!” Shaw shook him and Burton stirred. Shaw turned the lights on full.

“What is it? Are the children alright?” Burton started to panic.

“Yes, yes. They’re downstairs gearing up.” Shaw threw him a pair of boots. “Burton, we have orders.” One of them had looked forward to this moment, the other had dreaded it.

“Orders, from who?” Burton stalled by lacing up his boots slowly.

“The number station, I cracked it!” Shaw held out a torn piece of printer paper, scribbled letters under the numbers till it spelt out a single word.

“Enclave?” Burton hadn't heard the name before.

“That’s the codeword for a secure facility. Presidents, prime ministers, the top brass. This is where they went. I told you they’d make it, didn’t I!” Shaw paced as Burton lingered, his doubts building.

“Where is it?” Burton asked, trying to get verifiable information.

“They didn’t tell me that, it’s classified, need to know.” Shaw dismissed his concern.

“Wait, you made contact? Isn’t that a protocol breach?” Burton’s worry grew, Shaw treated protocol as gospel.

“It’s encoded and I didn’t give away our location, only that we are combat ready.” Shaw began to pick up on Burton’s hesitance, his jaw clenched and posture rigid.

“What are the orders?” Burton asked, following Shaw out and towards the lift.

“Remember my old friend Maxson, turns out his rogue unit has become a real problem. Self righteous prick. We’ve been tasked to launch a strike and move in force to assess. Then link up with command.” Shaw hit the button for the lift and paced as if trying to make the lift come faster.

“Move in force?” Burton asked, unsure of the term.

“All teams, everyone.” Shaw smiled wide. “Finally back in the game, about fucking time.” Shaw often complained about feeling useless, now Burton saw what it meant to his friend to be at war again.

None of this made sense to Burton, even without his own personal dread of the moment he’d known would come.

“Are we moving out on foot?” Burton asked, as if they had a choice.

“For now, there’s a list of supply bunkers on route.” Shaw glossed over what Burton knew could be a death march into a wasteland. Shaw stopped pacing and fixed his attention on him. “I’m not asking you to come to Burton.” Shaw put his hand on Burton’s shoulder. “You can go to Clara, to your boy. I can’t wait to meet him.” Nothing in this world would have made Burton happier. If he didn’t feel like he was trading the lives of the children to get it. “Soon as we launch you can set off.” He needs me, Burton realised, and took a deep breath.

“Andrew, none of this makes sense.” Burton tried to reach his friend. Shaw looked back with confusion. “You don’t know who is sending those orders, or why. Now you want me to help launch a nuclear missile at God knows what?! While at the same time revealing our position then opening the door for whoever is out there?!” Burton snapped, unable to contain his thoughts any longer. “Please Andrew, think about what you’re doing.” He pleaded with his friend, but saw only the soldier with a mission.

“Burton,” Shaw sounded like he wanted to hit him. “Without a strike to soften the target we’ll be up against an armoured and entrenched division. Not even the children could walk away from that in one piece. Is that what you want?”

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“You’re not listening to me Andrew. What if there is no division? What if there is no command left? What if it’s a trick to get us to open the door?” The lift doors pinged and slid open, puncturing the silence. Shaw stepped in and turned, glaring at Burton.

“The only reason you and I are breathing right now is good men died following orders.” The lift doors closed, leaving Burton terrified.

Burton raced back to his lab, trying to think. He knew Shaw couldn’t launch without him. Access required two codes. He couldn’t give his clearance to someone while his biometrics were transmitting. I need more time, he thought, slowing his breathing.

He rerouted power to the lift, blowing out the fuses, and patched in to the security cameras below. He watched Shaw stride down the corridor, bringing the activity in the next room to a standstill. All the children stopped packing, waiting on the order to leave.

“Alpha, front and centre.” Shaw called for his lead team. They stood tall before him, armed and ready. “You are to go upstairs and bring Professor Blake down here. If he resists, use force but keep him conscious.” The children looked back with fear and shock. They looked to each other, no one sure what to do.

“Belay that order!” Quinn yelled, running over. He and the rest of the staff had been helping the children gear up.

“Excuse me Capitan.” Shaw snarled, reminding everyone who was in charge. Quinn sidestepped him, getting him to turn away.

“Skip, let me go talk to Burton, smooth things out so they don’t escalate.” Quinn tried to reason with a friend.

“Alpha, you have your orders.” Shaw ignored Quinn like he wasn’t there.

“Disregard that order.” Quinn put himself between them. “Major Shaw, I am relieving you of command and hereby order you to stand down.” Quinn stood firm, Shaw didn’t react. Not until he raised his arm.

Burton watched, helpless, as Shaw triggered the strobe light countermeasure from his pipboy. Quinn, blinded by the light, lunged forward. Shaw turned quickly, bringing a knee up to Quinn’s chest. Followed by an elbow down to the back of his neck in rapid succession. Quinn hit the ground and didn’t move.

Shaw turned back to the children. Those nearest him stared blankly. Their devices rebooted, and minds in a suggestible state. “Bring me Blake, alive, by any and all means.” Without a response, Alpha loaded their weapons and headed for the door. The staff, unaffected by the strobe, darted to block them. Desperate to snap the children out of the trance that held them. Through the monitors, Burton saw the true power of his genius.

The first shot killed Ellen outright. This triggered a catastrophic chain reaction of violence. Brother fought brother, sister fought sister. As they did, the devices pushed them harder. Acting to preserve the life of the user, they turned the children into puppets.

Guns quickly became useless as blink fast knife fights ended in massive pools of blood. Hand to hand fights led to heads near turned backwards. The human capacity for survival, weaponised, and pitted against itself again and again. Until only one remained.

Through the monitors Burton saw the last remaining child by the lift doors. Wounded, covered in blood, a green streak in her hair. With no threats remaining the system dialled back its control. Ava screamed. She awoke to the only real family she’d ever known broken and twisted at her feet. Some of them killed by her own hand.

“Ava!” Burton yelled through the pipboy. “Hold on Ava, I’m coming.” She didn’t hear him. Instead she reached for a blood soaked pistol. Burton made it halfway to the lift before he heard the shot over the open comm channel.

In a daze, Burton wandered back to the lab. He sat sobbing and staring at the screens, completely lost. Something moved on the monitors, he wiped his eyes and saw Ava moving. Burton’s design had stopped the bullet. “Ava!” He yelled again, but she didn’t respond.

Instead she pawed at the floor for the pistol. Her face oozing blood, she pressed the muzzle into her thigh. She fired, she screamed, but still she did not die. Bleeding and desperate for release, brave little Ava began the self destruct sequence.

She took the hands of her dead siblings and closed her eyes. Burton cursed himself for designing it, for all it, and hoped the chain reaction would blast them all to hell. But the great Burton Blake had been too clever for that to happen.

The blast shook the bones of the entire Vault. The metal skeleton screeched and contorted as part of it vaporised in an instant. Rockslides thundered as they filled the void. Then the power went out.

Burton sat in the pitch black, praying to a God he didn’t believe in to let the roof collapse on him. He didn’t have the courage to end it himself.

The power came back on minutes later. Burton slunk to his quarters, grabbed the nearest bottle and drank till he passed out.

After three days of wallowing in guilt and whiskey, Burton sobered up. The upper levels were deathly silent. No noise other than the humming of the recirculation fans and the buzz of fluorescent lights. He showered and ate something, trying to create a sense of normalcy. It didn’t work. He felt like a ghost in a tomb.

Burton knew if he stayed here much longer he’d lose his mind. He couldn’t stand the thought of that. I need to see Clara, he thought, wondering if she might be the last person alive who knew his name. Yet even a few hours outside would be fatal, the radiation still too high. In that moment Burton made a decision. He would activate the pipboy on his arm, like Shaw did. He’d wake up in six months and leave, or he’d never wake up. Either way I’m leaving, he thought, equally fine with both outcomes.

It didn’t take long to gather what he needed. Three crates of iv bags for sedation, nourishment and anti rad. A bot to watch over him and change the bags. And finally, medical grade silk sheets. He set everything up in his quarters.

The bot went through an hour of practice, then he uploaded the Shaw protocol to their sub routines. He prepared as fine a meal as he could, but took only a single bite. You don’t deserve it, a voice inside his head said to him. Burton agreed. Instead he went to his quarters, stuck the iv in the back of his hand, and let the drugs take him to a black and dreamless sleep.