Chapter 1 – An Old Secret
"It's an old factory, according to the logs," Isabel Cruz said, holding up the holotape in question.
"A factory run by the U.S government before the war," Nathan Grey, or General Nate as he was known to the Minutemen, pointed out. He had an eyebrow arched, but a small smile that reassured her he wasn't upset. He took the tape and slotted it into his pipboy, studying its contents. "A secret factory, built under a nuclear silo I've never even heard of. Where did you even find this tape?"
"It was…" Isabel shifted on her feet uneasily. They were in the general's office at Fort Independence, headquarters of the Minutemen. It had only recently been retaken, but there were already nearly three dozen Minutemen in residence, with more recruits coming daily to join up. The office itself had been wrecked, partially collapsed, but renovations had been quick. Slapdash, even, but they'd managed to repair the table and chairs at least. "It was in my… er, it was in the Mechanist's lair."
This time, both of Nate's brows rose. "Your old stomping grounds. I thought you'd left that place behind you?"
"I still have some of the things I scavenged from there," Isabel said, clutching her arms. Talking about the past or, rather, her past was not something she was keen on. "I found it at the bottom of my bag and then I remembered the factory."
"And why didn't you use this factory when you were on your…" Nate looked like he was trying to figure out the right word to describe her horrifically failed attempt at helping the Commonwealth. Isabel stared holes into the ground in front of the desk, unwilling to meet his gaze. "When you were operating as the Mechanist?"
"Its…" Isabel whispered something, and Nate tilted his head.
"What was that?"
"Its… in the middle of the glowing sea," Isabel repeated, slightly more loudly. She did not dare meet his eyes.
"Ah," was all Nate had to say to that. He steepled his fingers in front of him. "Isabel, I… understand you want to help." But given what happened last time, don't you think this is a bad idea, she could imagine him thinking. "But we're stretched pretty thin here. We're getting new recruits all the time, but between all the new settlements joining the Minutemen, the Brotherhood of Steel's arrival, and everything going on in Boston at the moment, I can't really spare anyone to go looking for a factory that might not have even survived the bombs falling, let alone one in an irradiated desert."
"I don't need anyone to come with me!" Isabel protested. "I just… a suit of power armor is all that's needed to get there, me and Sparks can handle the rest!"
"Power armor is in short supply already," Nate said, shaking his head. "And there are dangers aplenty in the glowing sea that one person in power armor won't be able to handle alone."
I'll have Sparks, Isabel wanted to say, but the modified eyebot wasn't exactly combat-grade, regardless of its spirit.
"I can do it," Isabel insisted. "If we really are as stretched as you say, we need all the manpower we can get, whether it's from settlers or robots."
"In that case, why not use the lair?" Nate asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. "That had a fully operational factory last time I checked."
Isabel looked away, Nate misreading the gesture.
"I understand if you're hesitant to go back there, but wouldn't it be easier and safer?"
"It's not that…" Isabel said slowly. "I… sent Sparks over there to check it out, because I didn't… I didn't want to go back myself. It's… it's been taken over by super mutants. Sparks managed to hack into the feeds inside the factory and… It doesn't look good."
Nate grimaced. "How bad?"
"I don't think we'll be able to get it operational in years, assuming we could even clear out the mutants," Isabel admitted. Even that estimate was rather generous. The fusion generators alone were all but irreplaceable. They could substitute them with more numerous and smaller generators, but the resources and expertise such a task would require were… extensive.
"So, no lair," Nate said, holding the bridge of his nose, making Isabel wince. "Look, I don't disagree that the extra manpower, botpower, whatever, would be useful. Game-changing, even. The Brotherhood's got us outclassed on a technological level, so even if this factory just produced pre-War weapons and armor we'd be set. But-" At that word, Nate leveled a hard look at her. "This sounds a whole lot like a suicide mission."
"I can do it," Isabel insisted, her eyes coming up to return his gaze, though she struggled to hold the eye contact. "I… I messed up. I know that but let me try to make it right."
"By dying?" Nate asked, shaking his head. "You said you wanted to help the Commonwealth; you can't accomplish that if you're rotting in some irradiated ditch."
Would that be such a negative for everyone, the voice in her head said, before she tried to squash that thought. "I just… I just want a chance. The Brotherhood… they're so much stronger than us. Have you heard how many settlements they've stolen crops from?"
"Their mandatory 'donations', yes," Nate nodded, a grimace on his face. "I've received the reports. Food in exchange for 'protection'."
"They're no better than raiders!" Isabel's hands balled into fists. Nate was quiet and, slowly the anger ebbed out of her. "They… We can't stop them as we are now. If we try, we'll be crushed. If I can help, then… Nate, my life doesn't matter. Not to anyone, not to me."
"That's not true, Isabel," Nate denied. "You've made friends here, haven't you?"
"Only because they don't know about… About what I've done," Isabel said, looking away. She did like many of the Minutemen she had met. They were… they were idealists, trying to rebuild after everything was lost. But if Nate had told them about her being the Mechanist… Any friendships she might have made would be destroyed without a doubt. That he had kept her past as the Mechanist a secret was a kindness she did not deserve. How many of her supposed friends had lost family members and loved ones because of her?
"I know what you've done," Nate pointed out. "And I consider you a friend in any case."
Because you're impossibly kind, Isabel wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut.
"In any case, we just don't have the manpower or armor necessary to go looking right now," Nate said with a note of finality. "If you're really set on this, then go talk to Captain Shaw. We can't pursue it right now, but maybe once we're better situated we can try. Even after we got the armory open we don't have enough laser muskets to go around, so she's been hounding me to get her some people with the brains to make them."
"I…" Isabel swallowed her next words. "Yes, general."
Isabel entered the silent workshop to the sound of high-pitched chirps and beeps from Sparks. The modified eyebot floated in a corner, above all the workbenches, tools, and materials the Minutemen had gathered. The tiny bot came forward at her arrival, clearly glad of her return and she smiled as it floated down in front of her. She closed the door behind her and patted it atop his orb-like frame.
"I didn't convince him," Isabel said, receiving a disappointed chirp from her assistant. "Yeah, me too. He's… He's right, I know, but I…I just…"
She slid to the ground, her back dragging along the door. Sparks kept level with her own head the entire time, then dropped lower and nudged her. She wrapped her arms around the bot in a hug, laying her head against it.
"I just… want to be able to help," Isabel said, feeling her eyes starting to burn. "I can do more than… make laser muskets and repair turrets and artillery. He gave me a second chance, the opportunity to make things right, but…"
She went quiet and Sparks gave her an inquisitive chirp.
"We don't have the people to head into the glowing sea right now," Isabel answered with a sigh. "And even if we did have enough, we don't have the power armor to keep that many safe from the radiation."
Sparks gave a sad beep and she patted him again.
"The Minutemen have only been back for three months, little guy," Isabel said. "It's incredible that they-, that we have even gotten this far, to be honest. Maybe in another three months."
Not soon enough, the voice in Isabel's head said. How many will die in three months? How many will suffer because you couldn't convince him?
"How many?" She murmured to herself, barely aware she was speaking until Sparks chirped again.
"Oh, sorry," Isabel said, shaking her head. "Just… thinking aloud."
She released Sparks, letting him float up to her side as she rose to her feet. She'd done enough moping she told herself. Work always took her mind off things.
"Hey, Cruz!" Isabel halted at the calling of her name, surprise and even shock making her go still like a molerat being caught by a deathclaw. After working for hours building and repairing laser musket after laser musket, she'd realized she'd lost track of time and night had fallen a while ago. Her stomach had led her to the Fort's kitchens, where she'd thought she would be alone save for Sparks. People were… difficult to deal with and she didn't like talking while eating.
Striding up to her was the source of the voice, a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with a bright smile on his face. She didn't recognize him, but she wasn't exactly introducing herself to all the new recruits. He was dressed in the coat and hat of a Minuteman. It looked new, at least as new as anything else was in the Wasteland, and relatively clean. Most of the veteran Minutemen of the fort were older and wore their battle-scarred coats with pride, though they often also opted for actual combat armor and helmets instead of hats. Flanking him was another young woman, though she had a colder look to her. Not as scary as Captain Shaw could be when she got mad, but… unsettling.
"You're Isabel Cruz, right?" The man asked, as though her halting hadn't answered him. He didn't wait for her to reply. "I heard you know about a secret factory!"
Isabel's eyes widened and the man's companion elbowed him in the ribs, causing him to grunt in pain. She shot him an annoyed look and he waved her off.
"Sorry, sorry," The man said, lowering his voice, if only slightly. "Is it true?"
"Uh…" Isabel opened her mouth, but words refused to come out.
"Introductions, Darrel," The woman reminded him, clearly frustrated.
"Oh, right, right," The man apparently named Darrel said with a sheepish grin. "I'm Darrel Johnson, this is Sam Cooke."
"Samantha Cooke," the woman said pointedly. She held out a calloused hand to Isabel, who took it tentatively after a moment's hesitation and nearly had her hand crushed in a vice grip because of it. "Pleasure," she said, though there was not an ounce of sincerity in her voice.
"I'm Isabel," She whispered, almost as quiet as a mouse.
"So, is it true?" Darrel asked, his eyes shining with curiosity and excitement.
"I, uh… I don't know if I'm supposed t-to…" Isabel stopped, started, and stuttered out a meaningless reply. How had they even heard about that?
"I was passing by the general's office when I heard you talking about it!" Darrel said and Isabel felt like she might throw up. Just… how much had he heard? The man received another elbow in his ribs from Samantha for the trouble. "Ow! I get it, I get it. Its out in the glowing sea, right? I imagine you need power armor to get to it?"
Isabel stared at the man, her throat constricting her voice like a yao-guai was crushing it. Did he know her secret? If he did, he wouldn't have been smiling at her, right? Or would he? What if this was a trick, were they looking for revenge? She couldn't blame them, but she also didn't want to die. What if-
"We want to help the Minutemen and the Commonwealth," Samantha said, stepping far to close for comfort to Isabel and cutting off the woman's internal spiral. "But so far, old Shaw's just got us running laps around the fort's courtyard."
Darrel's grin fell and he took on a more serious look. "Don't get us wrong, the training is useful. We don't just want to go out and get killed trying to fight raiders or ghouls or whatever other freaks are out there."
"The Minutemen need help if we're going to take on serious threats rather than just scurry around trying to defend against whoever comes knocking," Samantha said and Isabel was disturbed by the intensity in her eyes. "An army of combat robots can do that. We'd be able to take on anyone, whether it's raiders and super mutants, or even the Brotherhood of Steel."
She nearly spat that last organization's name out with a clearly personal vehemence.
"Or any of the other crazies that pop out of the woodwork," Darrel agreed. "So, is it true?"
Isabel glanced around. Perhaps to the pair in front of her, it was to see if anyone was listening in. In truth, she was desperately looking for a way out of this conversation. In the end, she saw none and she nodded, whispering, "I… know where it is… I have a… a holotape."
"Can we see it?" Samantha asked and Isabel shifted.
"I don't know if…" Isabel began, but was cut off by Samantha suddenly gripping her by the shoulders, fingers pressing into her skin hard enough that she thought they might bruise. Isabel felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise and her heart quicken with fear.
"Please," The woman said, the coldness fading slightly to reveal a look of desperation in her eyes. A desperation Isabel found quite familiar. "We have to do more."
"I…" Isabel began, trying to muster up the strength to deny her. This was sensitive information after all. If it got into the hands of a group like the Brotherhood or, worse, someone like Isabel herself, things could go very wrong. And yet… She found her strength deserting her in the face of that very same desperation she felt. "Alright," She said and Samantha released her, though that did little to assuage the pain in her shoulders.
Isabel produced the holotape, still in one of the pockets of her mechanic suit, as well as a holo player she kept with her. Settling down, she set the volume to be just loud enough so no one listening outside the door might catch wind of it, then let the tape play. A woman's voice whispered in annoyed tones.
"Anise Ciroletti, Chief Scientist.
"I'm going to kill that man. Dear old Oliath keeps stealing my work and no one is telling me why. A nuclear silo does not need robobrains, yet Sentinel Site Prescott receives regular shipments of my most promising units. I can understand and accept the operational security in that regards, at least. What I cannot accept is how damned smug he is about it all! He keeps making demands of my units, claiming they're shoddy and sub-par work! What's more, he won't tell me how they're insufficient for whatever he's up to and I'm being told to work harder!"
The woman paused in her tirade, letting out a few calming breaths before continuing. Reaching out, Darrel paused the tape, though it was not finished.
"What's a robobrain? And what kind of name is Oliath?" He asked, confused.
"Maybe some kind of nickname?" Samantha suggested, with a shrug of his shoulders. Isabel remained quiet, keeping her eyes fixed on the tape. In the end, Samantha hit the play button and the voice continued.
"I've heard rumors aplenty about what he gets up to. Some of them are sheer insanity, but a friend of mine is on Oliath's staff who told me it's a robotics factory, but he won't tell me more than that and I don't understand why they'd make another robobrain factory so close by, let alone one that doesn't produce the core component itself. All it would be doing is leeching off our work! Maybe it's for special units, but when I asked that bastard directly he just laughed in my face and told me to keep my nose out of his business! I'm pretty sure he even threatened me!"
The woman on the tape seemed to distance herself from the recorder, as her voice became distant and indescribable, though clearly upset. There was the sound of something crashing and likely breaking against the floor.
"-mmit all, I'd turn that man into a robobrain if given half a chance! Then I'd declare him insufficient and chuck the casing into the incinerator!"
There was another moment of deep breaths as the woman calmed herself once more.
"I shouldn't even be recording this… I'll-!"
The woman's voice was suddenly cut off by the sound of the door opening.
"What? Go away, this isn't time for cleaning. Did you hear me, go awa-."
A woman's scream erupted from the holotape and Isabel tapped the pause button, having expected it to occur and choosing to cut it short. Both Darrel and Samantha stared at her with wide eyes.
"What… what happened to her?" Darrel asked.
"Don't know," Isabel said with a shake of her head. Whatever had happened to the staff at the old robobrain facility she had once co-opted into the Mechanist's Lair, it seemed to have been the only thing that kept this holotape's content from being erased. "That's all the info on the factory though."
"Its…" Samantha began, her jaw working as though she were mulling over her next words. "Less than I was expecting."
"Its… a longshot, I know," Isabel said. "But those pre-war silos were built to withstand even a direct hit by a nuke. If she's correct and it is a factory… it might be the most intact one in all of the Commonwealth."
"And the most poorly positioned one," Darrel said, jokingly.
"Which means that probably no one has ever gone scavenging there before," Samantha noted, rubbing her chin. "If we can reach it…"
"But… the general said no?" Isabel reminded them. They weren't seriously thinking of going against those orders, right?
"Do you think the general would be angrier at us than he'd be pleased at getting an army?" Samantha pointed out.
"If we succeed, we'll be heroes," Darrel added.
"And if we fail?" Isabel asked.
"Then we ask for forgiveness," Samantha replied, rising to her feet. "Are you coming, or not?"
Isabel blinked, confused. "C-coming? What do you mean? We'd each need power armor to get there, or at least a few hazmat suits." They weren't planning on stealing from the armory, were they? The very thought of Shaw's reaction sent shivers down her spine.
Samantha nudged Darrel again, though far more softly this time and his grin returned. "I may happen to know where a few suits of untouched T-45 are stashed."
"… How?" Isabel asked, both suspicious and concerned.
"There's a cave near my folks' farm with three suits of armor in pristine condition," Darrel replied. "I found them when I was a kid and out wandering, nearly got eaten by mole rats. It's cleared out now, but the armors are still there. My folks tried them out a couple of times but had some trouble using them. We thought about selling them, but that kind of gear always attracts the wrong kind of folk, so we kept them hidden."
"And your parents are fine with us taking them?" Isabel asked in disbelief.
"If it helps the Minutemen, they're more than happy," Darrel answered. "The general actually took down a band of raiders near us a month ago, but was called away before my folks could tell him about them. He's why I joined up."
"You know where this Prescott place is, right?" Samantha asked and Isabel nodded.
"I looked through some of the old archives in the fort before I went to the general and I found the location."
"We've got numbers, protection, and a location then," Samantha said, clearly impatient. "So, let's do this."
"We can help protect the whole Commonwealth," Darrel said with a bright smile.
Isabel bit her lip, uncertain. Yet, one thought kept coming to the forefront of her mind. She had been given a chance to make up for her past. Even if she could never bring back the dead, she could ensure no more joined their ranks.
"Alright," she said with a nod.
