Chapter 43 “Deathclaw territory.”

Weeks of rain and rock breaking had dragged for John. The constructor frame from the Vault helped speed things along. The lumbering ten foot frame made short work of the remaining quarrying. With enough space cut from the rock, John could do no more. The opportunity to get out into the field almost felt welcome, if he’d planned on going anywhere else.

John finished for the day, taking the last hour of daylight for himself. He showered away the rock dust, and joined Rosie in the workshop. “Hey.” She didn’t turn from her soldering.

“I’m going to fly to the lighthouse tomorrow. I need back up for a run.” John kept it vague, not wanting to influence her decision. Rosie turned on her stool. The surgical style magnifying goggles she wore made her eyes as big as golf balls.

“What kind of run?” She kept the excitement from her voice, not from her eyes.

“For the Pass.” John knew how hard the idea of it was for Rosie. She never wanted to think about the Vault. Having its former residents nearby would make that harder, if not impossible. Rosie turned back to her work.

“I’ll fly you.” She kept working. “You should go over your briefing.”

“I already did, twice.” John wanted her to know he’d prepared.

“Do it again, trust me.”

They reached the lighthouse by mid morning. Rosie gave the coded knock and led John and Grimm down. Inside they found Matt working at the benches. Brandon sat at the kitchen table, playing chess against Janey.

“You know there’s no way you can beat her, right?” Rosie teased as she surveyed the board.

“Janey.” Brandon prompted his robotic opponent.

“There is a non zero chance that I will lose.” Janey moved a bishop, taking far longer to make the move than calculate every possible outcome.

“See.” Brandon sounded defensive as he took the bishop with his rook.

“For instance I could be struck by lightning, or a meteorite.” Janey moved her queen. “Checkmate.”

“How many times has she beat you?” Rosie asked, deeply amused.

“Thirty eight.” Janey and Matt answered together.

“Sir.” John almost felt bad for interrupting. “I have a favour to ask. I’ve prepared a briefing.”

“South east of here there’s a beached container ship and a river crossing.” John pointed to the map Rosie got for him. “I need a pilot to lower me on board to hook up containers. I need ten for housing so we’ll need somewhere secure nearby. And it’d be nice to have cover while we did it.”

“But.” Brandon knew there had to be something more.

“It’s Deathclaw territory.” John sensed the mood change.

“Sentinel Grimm,” Brandon called on the other senior officer at the table. “Perhaps you could share some wisdom with the youth.” Grimm stood and unbuttoned his shirt. His chest and arms bore the scars of a lifetime of service. By far the most prominent, claw marks. Wide and deep across his chest. John had seen wounds like that when fresh.

“And I was wearing power armour.” Grimm did his shirt back up.

“How did you survive?” John asked.

“Clarke.” Grimm snarled. “Took its head off with a minigun.”

“He was good, wasn’t he.” Brandon had a warmness in his voice for his estranged husband.

“The very best.” Grimm’s jaw clenched.

“I’m in.” Matt didn’t hesitate. Brandon gave him a knowing look. “Come on Boss, it’s for a good cause.

“Tell them.” Brandon sat back, stopping Matt’s protest before it started.

“Story goes that after the war there was a group of survivors at an army base. Things were falling apart so a team of soldiers set out to find somewhere. They find this valley, high enough to have clean water, good soil, game to hunt. That first night a Deathclaw killed one of them. Next day another, day after that another. They had guns, armour, energy weapons, smart-mines. None of it worked. It killed them one by one, until only the commander remained.”

“He made traps from the rocks." Matt continued. " A bow from a branch. A spear with a tip made from cutglass. He fought the beast and won, put the spear through the roof of its mouth. He brought the people there and became the first chief of the tribe.” Matt looked away, consumed with memories. “The story keepers used to say that only the greatest warriors could kill a Deathclaw. I never have.”

“Are the thirty cal’s on the bird operational?” Brandon asked, weighing his options.

“Yes sir.” John checked the built in guns before he left.

“Charlie will fly. I want Janey in the cabin. Rosie, infiltrate the ship. See if there’s anything fun left. Grimm, Paul and myself will set up observation posts.” Brandon laid out the plan. John looked to Rosie, ready to protest on her behalf, but she stopped him with a nod.

“Where am I Boss?” Matt asked, trying to hide his frustration. Brandon pulled his lighter from his pocket and slid it across the table. Matt scowled.

“You will be tasked with lighting my cigars. Meaning you will be no more than two metres from me at all times.” Brandon glared at Matt, waiting for him to pick up the lighter.

“Come on Boss.” Matt threw up his hands, frustrated.

“Remember Colchester?” Brandon struck a nerve.

“That was not my fault!” Matt banged the table with his palm, knocking the chess pieces over. “I’ll go prep.” He composed himself, took the lighter and got to work.

“Could be Mirelurks too.” John added, breaking the tension.

“Then at least we’ll eat well.” Brandon forced a smile. “Gear up, I want us on site by dawn.”

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“You. With me.” Rosie ordered him. He followed her up and out, to a patch of soft earth behind the lighthouse. She tossed her pack at his feet. “You should stretch first.” Rosie started doing her warm up. John shook his head behind her back as she held strange poses. He did his own warm up of straight forward squats and jumping jacks.

“Suit up.” Rosie took off her fatigues, revealing the Shadow suit underneath. John put his own on, still not used to the sensation of it compressing to fit. “Take a deep breath.” Rosie stood next to him like a shadow detached from its owner. John pulled a deep breath through the suit filters, forcing the suit to move with him.

She put out her hand. The material shifted around her fingers, forming sharp claws. “Hold a clear picture in your mind.” Rosie instructed. John focused on a single thought. The fluid layer in the suit shifted, hardening around his fist. “Good.” She softened her tone. “I know you hate this stuff, but that’s really all there is to it. Think what you want to happen and it does."

“Good afternoon.” Janey appeared from the lighthouse.

“See.” Rosie had summoned Janey remotely.

“This is going to feel a little weird.” Rosie said as she connected John’s wireless four pin to Janey.

“I’m ready.” He braced for the pain.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Rosie pushed the connector into place.

John winced in anticipation, expecting the burning pain in his eye to return. It never came. Instead his peripheral vision filled with scrolling code on one side. A schematic of Janey on the other.

“Handshake protocol established.” Janey announced.

“Take direct control.” Rosie stepped back, giving Janey room. John selected the option with a tap of his fingers. His view seemed altered, a black shape to one side. He moved and saw the black shape move. Only then realising he saw through Janey’s eye, looking over his shoulder. He turned and waved his hand slowly. Janey copied his movement.

“This is so weird.” John waved again.

“Good.” Rosie removed the four pin connector and handed it to Janey. “I mean, it’s the equivalent of moving your lips when you read, but it’s a start. Janey, can you connect this to the Velo, then get on board.”

“Confirmed.” Janey started to walk under her own power. John tried not to throw up as the view moved while he stood still.

Without warning, the code began scrolling again. This time with schematics of the Velocibird. “Check the cameras.” Rosie instructed. John opened a window in the corner of his view, seeing from the nose and tail. As well as one that looked dark. “Ease the throttle up, get into a hover.” Rosie motioned with her finger and thumb, he copied. A humming built in the distance, building to a sound no louder than a strong wind. The Velo cleared the trees, hovering like a nocked arrow.

“Here.” Rosie clapped her hands together then held them apart. Between her hands sat a wire frame map.

“No one else can see this, can they.” John saw the pride in her face.

“You can.” Rosie smiled and took his hand, using it to place a waypoint on a nearly blank space on the map. The Velo whooshed overhead, banking south west.

“That’s it.” John saw the listing ship through Janey’s eye, high above the ground. Rosie took control from the autopilot, bringing the Velo in wide. John watched his split screen view. Janey scanned the terrain, Rosie rendered it into the digital model.

“How do you get so much detail?” John could make out the river, swollen by the rains. He could almost make out the individual containers.

“Janey. I take her scans and overlay the Velo radar.” Rosie zoomed the map in, very pleased with herself.

“Looks like the crossing is submerged.” John tried to gauge where the now sunken bridge would be.

“Water throws off the scan.” Rosie panned the map along. “Here.” Rosie pointed to a clearing on top of a bluff. “Brandon will want options, but this is it. Good cover, clear sight lines, multiple exfils.” Rosie set the autopilot and handed John a plastic tub full of junk. “Now we need to build it so they can see it.” She seemed to find it funny.

They spent the next hour using junk to model the area. A bottle for the ship, leaves for the river, routes in and out laid out in wire.

“Thank you.” John took her hand as they headed back inside.

“About time you learnt to do it.” Rosie didn’t take his meaning.

“No, I mean thank you for helping with the Pass.” John saw Rosie hadn’t thought of it like that.

“I’m not doing it for them.” She pushed through the door to the basement, keeping her focus in the present.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of packing and checking gear. John didn’t realise how much he’d missed gearing up as part of a unit. Each pack and its contents laid out flat alongside so everyone knew who had what. They traded this and that between them. Arguing over weight. Taking ammo from Matt because he wasn’t going to need it.

Rosie busied herself at the workbenches. Somehow the others slept, John decided to take his armour out. He stopped himself from pressing the button on his pipboy, using the new functions instead.

A mere twitch of his finger and a clear picture in his mind brought the armour to him. "Notice anything different?" Rosie's voice came through the armour. She got bored in the two seconds it took him to think. "Upgraded the o.s. used a mix of Janey's combat protocols and your telemetry. Should make the automated protocols...interesting."

"I'm guessing you have something in mind to test it out?" John could hear her excitement.

"Yeah, but you're not going to like it." The armour held out a length of rope.

"This hardly seems like a fair test." John tied the rope loosely round the armour's waist. He'd done the exercise before, against far more agile opponents, and won.

"If you don't want to do it." Rosie seemed oddly confident.

"Ready." John took his position. "Go." John lunged for the rope, expecting to whip it away. Instead the armour sidestepped and shoved him away. Again and again he tried, each attempt fending off by the powerful arms.

"It does move like me, sort of." He feinted and drew closer, getting his hand on the rope. The armour stomped forward, dragging him off balance. He let go, the armour's back to him. John rolled by it, plucking the rope free as he did.

"If it makes you feel any better, Crixus used to fall for that too." John gloated, putting the rope round his neck like a medal.

"That was just a test of the defensive protocols. I didn't want you to get hurt." Rosie said over the sound of keystrokes. "Got some data, I'd like more."

"Yeah I'm not going twelve rounds with a T-60." John thought about his training, the hours of sparring in the armour against Crixus. "Need a second suit really."

"I don't really want to ask Paul." Rosie had a hint of guilt in her voice. "Good idea though. Take it for a spin, that'll help."

Friends again, John opened the armour. As the back hinged up he felt the Shadow suit react. He looked at the back of his hand, a familiar shape forming. They mimicked a port like the ones in the under armour. He half expected the strange material to break as the armour frame attached. It didn’t, instead giving him more control. The power armour seemed faster, lighter even.

John spent an hour running in the armour. Swinging his warhammer against a tree. Practising reloading his light machine gun.

“You should be resting.” Brandon said as he sat on a nearby log, a look of fond memories on his face. John exited the armour, covering the slung machine gun with the drab, grey cloak.

“Just clearing my head.” John sat on the log, taking the opportunity to clean his pistol.

“You won’t be needing that.” Brandon bit the end of a cigar and patted his pockets for the lighter. “Of course if it comes down to pistols, you could do a lot worse. May I?” He gestured to the pistol. John emptied the chamber, catching the round in mid air like Styx taught him.

“Took it from a raider my first day.” It seemed a long time ago to him in that moment. “My friend fixed it up.

“And the artwork?” Brandon asked, admiring the rose painted on the grip.

“So I remember why I’m holding it.” John smiled, not quite embarrassed. Brandon seemed amused by it.

“Can I ask you something, off the record?” He used a phrase Sara did.

“Speak freely.” Brandon handed him the pistol.

“Is this a bad idea?” He hadn’t been able to shake the images of the last encounter from his mind.

“If it was a bad idea, I would have said no.” Brandon put him at ease. “We’re making a lot of noise, but we’re far enough out not to draw attention. And if we do, we’re prepared.”

“Thank you sir.” John felt his confidence bolstered.

“There’s a time and place for second guessing your commands. And that place is not in the field.” Brandon let his advice sink in for a moment before standing. “Get some rest, final briefing and wheels up in six hours.”