The week following the Massacre at McSorely Creek was a quiet one. The entirety of Michael’s paladin squad, Lance 27, had gotten drunk during the night of the celebration. As had the rest of the camp, with a few unlucky exceptions. Sentries who had to watch the festivities unfolding with envy, or those assigned to patrol duty the next day. Too hungover for any missions, Michael allowed his squad time to rest. His days from there were spent in indolence, enjoying the few recreational activities at camp.

If not listening to music in his room as he read one of the countless books from the library, or tinkering with Dominic and the knights in the workshops, he went to the shooting range. Though, it was less an actual range and more of an improvised gallery on the southern facing wall, where an enemy presence was not expected. One of the knights had jury-rigged a baseball pitching machine to throw junk into the air, giving the range a series of unpredictable targets. Targets that Michael could practice his aim on, inside his armor, or for the shooting competitions overseen by the day’s watch sergeant.

But as fun as it all was, it could not last forever.

Michael visited Andrews in the hospital to ask for advice, unsure of how to proceed with his new responsibilities. He wanted to understand what it meant to be a good leader for his paladins, it wasn’t enough to emulate what he had seen, but the veteran paladin told him to do as he always did. There was little else for a paladin to do, no matter the rank, but to shed blood in the Brotherhood’s name.

At the HQ, Michael requested a mission for his squad, but there was nothing available. He had missed his opportunity when another sergeant took the initiative mere hours earlier. As a free roaming paladin from one of the general line squads, Michael could have volunteered himself for the mission. However, he was now entrusted with a defined leadership role.

As the new sergeant of Lance 27, he was responsible for the safety of his paladins, but also their glory. And Michael was vaguely aware of the backroom dealings among High Command and the Brotherhood’s field officers. While nothing was available, officially, Blair told him to seek out Torland.

The Head Scribe had a side project concerning the radios brought with them into Seattle. The project had yet to be given the go-ahead by the Elder, but Blair was willing to allow their collaboration. It was a worthy enough cause, no mere errand for initiates, given how Torland’s broken radios contributed to the deaths among Abel’s paladins.

Torland was in his private office, leaned over his desk. He looked through a specialized monocle with multiple lenses as he tinkered with a strip of cloth, embedded into which was wire and a small black box. There was a remote trigger beside it, the type that demolition crews used to detonate bombs. His desk was strewn with various pieces of junk and it was a wonder how Torland kept track of everything.

Torland looked up from his work. “Ah, a guest. Just working on a shock collar, small experiment. Don’t mind the clutter.”

Torland called it a shock collar, but as the Head Scribe worked on the item, it reminded Michael of a certain Brotherhood elder in the Mojave. There was something inherently sinister about the scene, despite Torland’s blank disposition. His Order of Scribes was devoted to knowledge, but there was the possibility his small experiment could be modified into something that the likes of Elder Elijah or Caesar’s Legion could abuse. The kinds of abuse that Roger Maxson had denounced when he discovered the FEV experiments at Mariposa.

“It looks like a bomb collar.” Michael said absentmindedly. “Are you going to put those on prisoners?”

“What the hell are you on about?” Torland looked up abruptly, shock plainly evident on his wrinkled face. “Why would I put bomb collars on people?”

Michael straightened, surprised that Torland would be so offended by the suggestion. “Apologies, sir. It was just an idle thought.”

“The Brotherhood doesn’t take prisoners, young man. Or has that changed yet?” Torland said, shaking his head. “No, no, these are for the mongrels that Mortis plans to acquire. The scouts report that raiders to the northeast breed them. For meat. Or as pets. Whichever.”

Silence fell between them as Torland continued working, until Michael spoke up. “Paladin Blair sent me. He’s given me permission to lead my squad on an errand for you. For your project concerning the radios?”

“Ah, yes. The radios.” Torland rifled through a stack of folders beside him. “My scribes have found several locations that suit my purposes. For our radios to be completed before the year’s end, we must have more electronic components.”

Torland pulled a file from the stack beside him and handed it to Michael. “Here is the necessary intel, but all you need to know is that there are scavvers occupying the location. Kill them and secure the sight. A separate scavenging party of knights and scribes will be sent once your scribe confirms that the area is secure. They will collect what they can, so leave the place intact.”

“My scribe?”

“We have yet to deploy the rest of our new radios to the other paladin squads, but your squad may keep one of the radios already assigned to it. As well as the accompanying scribe. Scribe Choy has already been briefed on the situation.”

“Understood.”

“And keep in mind. My scribes know how to fire their weapons, but their true expertise is more technical in nature. So take good care of Scribe Choy. I will be very cross if some boneheaded paladin forgets that flesh doesn’t stop bullets as well as power armor.”

“Sir, yes, sir. We’ll get the job done before dusk, nice and easy, so the others better get ready to move out after us.”

“Very good, paladin.”

Michael hurried to the engineering bay as he read the intel Torland provided. The only resistance expected was the typical scavver fodder with low caliber firearms. No threat to Brotherhood paladins in power armor, which his scribe could hide behind for safety. The mention of incendiaries concerned him, however, but there were no other details concerning the matter.

It was a small complication he had to be wary of, but he thought of Abel’s failed advance. An entire army of raiders caught them by surprise. While avenged, their losses could not easily be replaced. Images of Abel’s dead paladins flashed through Michael’s mind. His new squad would not share their fate.

Michael left with his power armor, fully maintained and freshly painted, his folder carefully held in one hand. Taking a detour through the heavy weapons workshop, Michael signed out one of the miniguns. While disappointed that it wasn’t a gatling laser, he was relieved that he was allowed to take one of their heavy weapons to begin with. With his laser rifle strapped to his side, the weight of his minigun invigorated his resolve as he carried it across one shoulder to the muster field.

The camp loud speakers sounded out at Michael’s request, playing a message that resounded through the camp. “Lance 27, ready for combat and report to the muster field. Lance 27, ready for combat and report to the muster field.”

Michael waited in the musterfield for his squad to assemble and Scribe Choy was the first to arrive, outfitted with her pack and rifle. However, it had been a long half hour before his paladins were present and ready for action. It was a shortcoming he’d have to rectify in time.

“What’s going on?” Tobias asked as he approached, having arrived last. His hair was messy, despite his usual grooming practices, and Michael suspected the paladin wasn’t an early riser.

“Mission time, paladin.” Michael declared. “Fall in line.”

Tobias clearly had something on his mind, but he kept it silent and positioned himself at the furthest left of the Lance 27’s formation. Towards Michael’s right side. The squad stood in a line, ordered from most senior to the least, with Tobias the most senior among them.

Down the line were Miles, Beck, and Andoh. In their freshly buffed power armor, they were an imposing force. Especially compared to Choy, who stood off to the side, the same way the scribe team did when Michael had commanded the task force. But there had been four separate subunits then, not one.

“Scribe Choy. You’ve been debriefed on your role in this squad, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what is that role?”

“I am to be the squad’s designated radio operator, sir.”

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“Good, now fall in line with the others. You’re a part of this squad.” Michael said and Choy took her place beside Andoh, at the end of the line of paladins, completing Lance 27’s formation.

With the mission to rescue Abel’s platoon now over, Michael’s own task force was formally disbanded. The knight squads that accompanied him returned to their other duties, mostly patrolling through the streets of White Sprawls. Oliver, meanwhile, was a volunteer from Gravy Squad and therefore a temporary member. With Andrews’ recovery, Oliver could expect to be called upon, so his absence was no surprise.

Lance 27, at its current strength, was a far cry from the roughly two and a half dozen Michael once commanded. He would have the opportunity to find more volunteers, up to the standard squad size of twelve. For now, the squad’s four other paladins and lone scribe were all Michael could rely on. Six Brotherhood personnel in total, Michael included, but their half-squad would do fine against scavvers.

Michael handed his folder of intel to Tobias to skim through and pass along, as he debriefed his squad on their mission. He didn’t stray from what worked the last time and kept it short and simple. Lance 27 was to travel to an electronics store in the east, Esidisi Electronics Emporium. Scavvers are expected, with incendiary weapons of an unknown nature. The scavvers would be easy to kill, but they had to keep their guard up due to recent events.

“And we will not be taking any more volunteers with us. Our squad will be understrength for this mission, the men and women here are the only ones you can rely on.” Michael added. “Paladin Miles, Paladin Beck, you two are with me. We will be the first maneuver element. Tobias, you will be my second. Paladin Andoh and Scribe Choy will form your team, our second maneuver element. Due to Choy’s lack of armor, you’ll have to be more cautious. Understood? Let’s move out.”

—

Michael led Lance 27 directly west, with him at the front and his two teams behind him, side by side. As he had done for Gravy Squad during Andrews’ doomed maneuver and their subsequent retreat, Michael intended to take the majority of enemy fire. The fewer guns pointed at his scribe, exposed without power armor of her own, the better. His forward position would also protect the rest of his paladins from explosives, or incendiaries, just in case.

They followed a road until they reached a river, one that was small and not especially deep. The bridge over the river had collapsed, causing the nearby area to flood into a muddy pond. Maybe the river had actually been considered a creek in the pre-war period, which made Michael wonder briefly, but it was a length of flowing water all the same. An obstacle that needed to be traversed quickly and safely.

Michael ordered Beck to fire into the water with her laser rifle, to check for lakelurks hidden underneath. There was no response and it was unlikely that lakelurks would inhabit such a confined space. The waters were shallow and there wasn’t much to sustain a nest of lakelurks.

Michael forded the river, followed by his team. They were the maneuver element of the squad and would be the first to move towards danger. Their steel boots splashed loudly enough to alert anyone nearby to their presence, but there was no movement in the distance. The rest of Lance 27 crossed the river as Michael’s team stood guard. Tobias had to carry Choy across, keeping her and her radio away from water, but the crossing was otherwise uneventful. As was the rest of the journey to their target.

Just empty roads until the squad neared the electronics store, but the area was too silent for Michael’s liking. There were supposed to be scavvers near the target and scavvers tended to settle down to pile up their findings. He hooked around the area, leading his squad between buildings. They approached the front of the store and took up positions in a building across the street.

There, Michael saw evidence that the store had once been occupied. Sheet metal was used to cover up any openings, except for the door. There were few holes cut into the metal, where windows could be hinged open and shut. The store’s sign was bolted onto the wall, reading “Esidisi Electronics Emporium.” It was another layer of metal that effectively reinforced the building from small arms fire.

There was a suspicious absence of movement, however. There were lit trash fires in the area, typical signs of life that wastelanders relied on for warmth or light. The smell of food wafted towards Michael. People had been in the area recently. Judging by the indentations on the surface of their wall, likely caused by bullets, Michael suspected that the scavvers had already been forced to defend themselves. But where were they?

Perhaps someone had caught sight of Michael’s squad and the scavvers abandoned the store. Defending against other scavvers or raiders were one thing, but fighting the Brotherhood was another. They would be fools to challenge their might, but others had tried and dead paladins were a warning against hubris. Michael wouldn’t dare risk his squad, regardless of any expectations of valor. Once again, he ordered Beck to fire into the store and there was no response.

Michael had learned several things through his time among the knights, who were more reliant on tactics than the average paladin. One of the most memorable lessons he learned were ways that forced an enemy to reveal themselves. If the enemy wasn’t forced out of hiding in the first burst of fire, then more firepower was required.

“Do we go in, sir? I think it’s empty.” Beck said, but Michael opened fire on the store with his minigun. Torland’s scavenging party would have to pick up the pieces of whatever was left, but their price was worth the reward. Scavvers cried out in panic as they fled their positions hidden behind their walls, having been given enough incentive to do so.

“Stay here and fire on their positions.” Michael called out amid the gunfire and walked alone into the open street, taking the brunt of the risk on his own shoulders. Windows remained closed and none dared fire on him as he approached the store, suppressed as they were by his squad’s laser fire. He reached the front door of the store, it had been barricaded with a pile of furniture.

Instead of kicking his way through, instead the door was rigged to explode, Michael walked to what had been a window display. A bolt of laser fire glanced off his shoulder and someone called out their apology, before they were scolded by someone else. Michael held out an open hand to them and his squad ceased fire. Their laser rifles were unlikely to pierce his armor, but they were wasting ammo.

Michael pulled away the makeshift wall that covered the window display. Metal snapped, screws popped away. He tore at the insulation within, breaking through the second layer of metal on the other side. He forced his way into the store with his minigun pointed forward, ready to saturate the building with gunfire for a second time. But only a handful of the dead greeted him, laying where they had fallen and riddled with bullet holes.

In the storefront, it was evident to Michael that the scavvers had spent a great deal of time turning the old building into a proper home. Bunk beds lined the walls, enough for nearly a dozen people. There were a variety of facilities for cooking, lounging, sewing, and other activities. All ruined now, thanks to Michael, but they could be repaired given some time and effort.

There was a storage area in the room to the back that had been spared from damage. Boxes, shelves, and piles of junk hidden away for Torland’s scavenging party. They would be pleased with how neatly everything was organized, ready for the taking. One shelf was stacked with bars of reclaimed steel, which could be fashioned into more armor for the knights.

Footsteps and hushed voices echoed past a side door. Michael slowly approached, before charging through with sudden force. The door led into a long hallway, at the end of which was an open door. Above which hung an exit sign. Michael turned to check the other side of the hallway and a scavver jumped onto his minigun, surprising him for a moment as the scavver grappled with his weapon.

“Run! Run!” The man called out.

As a rush of movement resounded behind him, Michael knew there were other scavvers nearby. He quickly raised his minigun into the air, the scavver still holding on, and flicked the barrel of the minigun downward. The scavver fell to the ground with a loud crack, doubtless breaking one or more bones in the fall. Michael turned, bracing himself to be set alight by incendiaries, but the other scavvers were fleeing through the exit.

The barrels of his minigun began to rotate, promising a hail of bullets, until a scavver faced Michael and raised his empty hands to the air. It was a show of surrender, the scavvers would not fight the Brotherhood. A woman carried an infant in her arms as she fled and Michael decided he wouldn’t fight them either. They were just scavvers, in the end, not raiders. Even if they were all savages.

The scavver then pointed in Michael’s direction. Not at him, but at the man behind him. The scavver spoke, fear heavy in his voice. “My brother.”

Michael raised the barrel of his minigun to the ceiling and gave the scavver room to pass. The scavver shook as he did, raising his hands, lowering his head. He dropped to his brother's side, who groaned with pain. He had broken a leg and an arm in the fall and was unable to walk on his own. The scavver lifted his brother onto his shoulders and walked to the exit, but his brother grazed the side of Michael’s minigun. The scavver shut his eyes for a few long seconds, then turned back to look at Michael.

“Go on.” Michael said. The scavver thanked him and left Michael to secure the last of the rooms in the hallway.

More beds, storage areas, and workshops, but little of note. Just more of the same as in the storefront. All things accounted for, there were a few items that could be melted down and used to fabricate circuitry, gold watches and the like. Junk with a variety of uses, but nothing that could be stripped of workable electronic components.

Michael had effectively robbed the scavvers of not just their belongings, but also their home, for a couple of trinkets and a collection of scrap. Even if he spared their lives, surely there was a better way. The scraps of material that Torland could use for his radios. They could’ve been traded for. Then again, maybe their camp in Seattle lacked the resources for trade.

Torland had also mentioned time constraints for his project to deploy new radios to among the paladins. It would take precious time to bring in shipments of tradable goods from Portland, plus the time it took to find settlements to negotiate with. The shipments would also take up space on the vertibirds that White Sprawls relied on. Space that could be used to bring in reinforcements.

It was a questionable investment of time and resources, especially when considering that not everyone was willing to trade away their rarities. Even when offered generous terms. Michael shook his head. There was no use dwelling on decisions above his station. He was a paladin, a soldier of the Brotherhood of Steel, and he followed orders.

Michael checked the front door, making sure it wasn’t rigged, and called over to his squad to join him in the store. They crossed the street with their rifles in hand, looking both ways for any sign of hostiles. Once safely inside, Choy radioed to HQ and informed Blair of their successful mission. With the area secured, a Brotherhood scavenging party was going to be deployed their way and Blair ordered Lance 27 to hold their position.

The sound of thunder echoed and Michael peeked out from the store. The horizon was tinted with sickly shades of gray and green, as lightning flashing through the clouds in the distance. “Scribe Choy, ask the Head Paladin if the scavenging party can bring a gas mask and some radaway for you. There’s a radstorm incoming.”