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Fallout: Vault X

An original novel set in the Fallout universe, written to be accessible to all, featuring unique people and places Fallout: Vault X tells the story of John. A vault dweller, who spent every day of his twenty five years underground. Like his father, and his father before him. Proud to live in the last remaining bastion of humanity, all that survived The Great War of the atomic age. Hidden deep below the surface of the earth, toiling under brutal conditions. Year after year, decade upon decade. All to expand into the natural cave system the Vault occupied, building for the future. However, John knew what his forefathers did not, that everything he’d been taught was a lie. After finishing school at the age of ten, John received his standard issue pipboy. An arm mounted personal computer, worn by everyone in the Vault. Used to coordinate the relentless pace of expansion, needed to work as an apprentice. To learn the craft that would be his life’s work. A noble calling to ensure a future for all that remained of the human race. A quirk of fate saw John equipped not with the crude, clunky, pipboy model his father wore. That almost everyone around him wore. His looked smaller, sleeker, finished in a jet black sheen. And capable of doing far more than its drab counterparts. The world above had been ravaged by atomic flames, yet life clung to its bones. The Red Valley fared better than most in the century since the bombs fell. The clean water and rich soil protected by rolling hills. All spared from direct strikes, for the most part. Life survived here. Trees spawned from charred ground, misshapen, green leaves turned red. Along with simple crops, grown wild at first, then cultivated by the survivors. The scavengers of the old world were inventive, hardy people. All determined to rebuild in the ruins of a world they never knew. In the decades that passed settlements emerged. They grew, spreading along the valley floor. Reclaiming the pre-war remnants of the once industrialised heartland. Salvaging the robotic wonders of a bygone age to build their walls and work their fields. To protect them in the dark of the wasteland. But such things are uncommon in this world, and the rarer something is, the greater its value. And the worth of pre-war technology had not gone unnoticed. The last, real, power in this world rested in the mechanised hands of The Brotherhood of Steel. Forged from the mortally wounded old world military. The Brotherhood used its access to the weapons made for a conflict no one won to strike out into the wastes. Men and women were equipped with advanced armour, aerial transportation, high grade weaponry. Accompanied by the training, strength, and will, to put them to use. They established chapters and set up outputs far and wide. All dedicated to a single purpose. To ensure the technology left abandoned by its long dead creators didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Namely, any hands that were not their own. This is the world John escaped into. A place of horrors brought forth from atomic fire. A place where survival meant battling against the darkness. Fighting a war each day to get to the next. And war...war never changes

FourPin · 游戏衍生
分數不夠
223 Chs

Vol. ll Chapter 27 “First law protocol is in effect.” (Part 1 of 2)

Chapter 27 "First law protocol is in effect."

 

Three days later, Rosie found herself out in the wastes. She and Charlie had taken the Velo north west to check the last of three best possible signs of a Vault. Charlie wore her cloak with the stag hide showing, Rosie wore her duster. Dressed as just another pair of wanderers.

 

"I'm going to buy a boat." Charlie had been mulling spending caps by the thousands for the last hour. "You know what a boat is right?"

 

"Yes." Rosie answered petulantly. "It's like a car that goes on water." Charlie's laugh told her that wasn't quite right.

 

"What about you?" Rosie turned from Charlie and pressed on towards the ruins. Every idea she came up with, cakes, books, boots that fit, only brought laughter. So she kept walking. "You could buy a robot."

 

"Wait, can I?" Rosie stopped.

 

"Don't get too excited. I've never seen anything like Janey for sale." Charlie forced a smile. Seeing Janey attack had made things a little tense. "We're close, take point."

 

Rosie advanced to the ruins on the corner. As she saw the stone carved word above the missing door Rosie knew it'd been a wasted trip. "Banks have vaults, don't they."

 

Tall counters with grimy glass screens obscured her view of the so called vault door. Brass locking pins fanned out on a circle of cold rolled steel. "Can we open it?" With no digital interface Rosie would be of limited help. With no visible lock she felt completely useless.

 

"These civilian models are on time locks, mechanisms went dead years back and seized up tight." Charlie ran her hands across the metal, brushing away the dust.

 

"Is that a no?" Rosie teased.

 

"Give me some thermite and a blunt instrument like Paul to swing a hammer at it, and I'd crack it ." Charlie looked disappointed. "Not much point though, paper and shiny trinkets I'd bet. We'll tip the Brotherhood to it." Charlie checked her watch for the third time in an hour. Rosie saw how being this close to Excalibur Outpost made her nervous. "Let's get back to the lz, wait till dark."

 

They posted up inside an old apartment building, trees encroaching through a missing wall. Charlie remained quiet for most of the day, unusually so. Rosie sketched for a while, unhappy with the sleeves on her coat.

 

"Rosie," Charlie drew her out. She folded a corner down on the scrap paper to remind her to show Matt. "You're ok right?"

 

"Yeah, fine." Rosie realised that wasn't what Charlie meant. "I mean, I am fine." She'd felt better than fine for days. "Is that normal?"

 

"Normal people don't run towards gunfire Rosie. And they certainly don't blow shit up, mostly." Charlie seemed amused that she'd been worried. "Nothing else quite like bringing knives to a gunfight, is there." Charlie motioned to Rosie's blade, retracted and sheathed on her pack.

 

"Is it always like that?" Rosie saw that wasn't enough and failed to find a better word. "Not fun exactly…" Charlie's laugh eased Rosie's worry.

 

"If you didn't love it you couldn't do it." The clarity of Charlie's thought helped Rosie understand, but something still gnawed at her.

 

"Is that bad?"

 

"Only for people that piss us off." Charlie tried to ease the question with a joke. "The world is a safer place because of what we did. Our motivations don't change that, and If things would have gone sideways, I could live with the consequences."

 

"When I got in there, and I could hear them, I felt…"

 

"Powerful."

 

"In control. Unstoppable." Rosie could feel an echo of that now.

 

"'The clever combatant imposes her will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on her.'" Charlie quoted the book she'd mocked days earlier.

 

"I thought you said it was a dumb book?" Rosie smiled and wished she'd had this conversation yesterday.

 

"It is. 'Subdue the enemy without fighting'. Please."

 

That evening, after eating, Rosie filled a bucket with scrap and junk then went out to her map. She neatened up the wires that represented rivers. Straightened the cut broom handle that showed the Tower. Then added rocks, worn half bricks, and bolts to fill in the details she'd discovered that day. Lastly she picked up the coffee mug used to mark a probable Vault. As she shook and brushed the dirt from it, a coded knock echoed from inside the lighthouse. Paul and Brandon were home.

 

Rosie finished adding details to the map model when she heard someone coming up and out. She smelt the cigar smoke just before Brandon came into view.

 

"So, a bank vault." Brandon blew smoke up into the cool night air.

 

"The further out from the Tower the less accurate it is. The signal degrades, rads cause interference." Rosie tried to keep an apologetic tone from her voice. The flight radius of the Velocibird from The Grand gave them the three best probable leads and they were all nothing. "Maybe when John gets here, his data will fill in more of the blanks." Soon it would be three months to the day since they left the Vault.

 

"Rosie…" Brandon crouched over the map and rearranged things, not meeting her eyes. "How committed will John be to getting back to the Vault like you planned?"

 

"He'll be there." Rosie answered without thinking, or without anyway to back it up. "He promised."

 

"And how does he feel about the people in the Vault?" Brandon busied himself in another area of the map, knowing it made it easier for her to answer.

 

"He wants to help them, says we can't be free otherwise." Rosie could leave them to rot for another century. Apart from her friend Dutch, she'd get him out at some point, but not until his safety could be guaranteed. He had the same pipboy, and upgrades, they did. She wasn't going to get him out and have her childhood friend be a target too.

 

"Clarke will want him onside." Brandon knew his husband better than anyone. "I just can't see him letting John go without leverage. If he thinks John needs the Brotherhood to help his people then its less of a risk to let him go." Brandon stood and brushed off his calloused hands. "What's your plan to get him out?" Rosie looked at her boots, ashamed that she'd planned her own operation against people Brandon cared about.

 

"I'm sorry." Rosie's apology brought laughter and a supportive arm across her shoulders.

 

"You have nothing to be sorry for. If you didn't have a plan then you should be sorry." Brandon drew his dagger and handed it to her, gesturing to the scale model of Excalibur Outpost he'd improved and added to.

 

"I drop to the east, stash the Velo, take Janey and set her up where she can see. Then I crawl over the…" Rosie forgot the term for the area deliberately cleared around the outpost.

 

"No man's land. That's at least a mile." Rosie brushed off the distance, she crawled through vents for hours before now. A mile under the night sky would be easy. "Next I hop the wall and make my way inside to find John."

 

"How?" Brandon asked, Rosie didn't have a good answer. "If I can breach the network—"

 

"Won't have billeting information." Brandon interrupted. "And you'll be underground." She paused for a moment. Last time Rosie tried to track the pipboy she found the emergency transponder in use and not able to be reconfigured.

 

"Something will be different, I'll—"

 

"Get caught trying to sweep rooms surrounded by hundreds of sworn knights." Brandon's tone demanded a better answer. Rosie struggled to think of one, but no longer found herself alone.

 

"Ideas?" Rosie asked, seeing that wanted her to ask.

 

"He'll be quartered near Sara, I know where her room is. And she'll know exactly where he is." He looked uneasy, but sure of Sara's assistance. "So let's say you find John, then what?"

 

"If we have time to make the crawl out, we go over the wall. If not I'll disable all but one of the Vertibirds then steal one. Jam the comms, have Janey cause a distraction, then ditch the bird and take the Velo." The more she said out loud the more it sounded half baked, at best.

 

"Unless—" This time Rosie interrupted Brandon.

 

"Unless they send runners to the gun emplacements. Or shoot the rotors before I even take off." She kicked at a loose rock out of frustration, sending it bouncing off the round wall of the lighthouse. "I didn't think it through."

 

"Because you're too close to this." Brandon pulled her away from the map and her frustrations "And because you've been planning alone." He took her hand in his. "It's like how Paul thinks he can sing." Rosie smiled at Paul's habit of singing when he found himself alone.

 

Brandon held open the steel door to the cellar for her to enter. Matt and Charlie were bickering about doing the washing up. Paul sat on the couch, taking notes as Janey reeled off recipes from century old cookbooks. Rosie felt a tug at her elbow as Brandon leant in to whisper. "You're not alone Rosie. Not now. Not ever."

 

"They're late." Brandon spoke over the comm. He lay hidden behind a rifle scope peering down the single street of ruins.

 

"They're always fucking late." Charlie threw another pebble at a tin can, like she'd been doing for the past hour. She hopped back up onto one of the drums of fuel they'd brought to sell to the raiders, pretending to be unaware.

 

"Have they been this late though?" Matt asked from his position on the second floor, covering Charlie.

 

"Negative." Rosie answered, waiting at the south end of the street on a rooftop in her stealth suit. Janey crouched next to her, the robotic head whirring round slowly, scanning for any movement.

 

"They better hurry up, I'm getting hungry." Paul complained, which seemed fair. He'd been standing motionless in his power armour for hours, ready to burst through a solid wall behind Charlie should things go bad.

 

Rosie scanned the treeline through the antique rifle scope, glad to be on an operation rather than worrying about John. The last few days had been hard for her, not knowing if John would be able to leave the Brotherhood, and secretly worried he wouldn't want to. Brandon's got a plan, she thought, and it'll be better than mine.

 

"Movement." Rosie caught sight of figures coming out of the forest. "Raiders times four. Coming from the south.

 

"Solid copy, green on front two." Within a few minutes Brandon had kill shots on the front two.

 

"Green on rear two." Matt had the other pair as they entered the street.

 

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Charlie yelled as the same lead raider approached her. "You think I've got all day to sit around waiting!" Rosie smiled as Charlie let her frustrations out. Habit drew her eyes back to the scope and the treeline.

 

"Movement at the treeline." Rosie tried to keep the tension from her voice.

 

"Identify." Brandon kept Charlie covered while she spoke to the raiders.

 

"Unclear, wait one." Rosie tried to get a better view with her mark two eyeballs.

 

"What?!" Charlie held the comm open so they could all hear the raider.

 

"Look, we hit a demand issue. One of our best customers missed two pickups so we won't need a drop for the next few weeks." This operation served as their only link to Jones, without it they had no leads to kill the chem dealer they'd been supplying for over a month.

 

"Are you telling you're the first crew in history that can't sell chems?!" Charlie sounded angry and it wasn't entirely an act.

 

As they bickered Rosie strained to see the movement in the trees. Suddenly a patch of leaves flickered, then another next to it. Rosie forced herself into the dreamlike state, the burning sensation coming on instantly as she fought to stay still. The fast rustle of leaves became like ripples on still water, and at the centre Rosie saw its source.

 

"Movement in the trees, Recon frames times two. How copy?" Unmistakable from the still image frozen in the corner of her view, pistons and armour, scoped rifles resting in the branches. Rosie plotted two shots. She knew that the others would never fire on their one time Brothers, but if they tried to hurt her family, Rosie could end them in seconds.

 

"Whirlwind, Maelstrom. Turn to face me and wrap this up." Brandon calmly gave an order and Charlie followed.

 

"My employer is counting on that income." Charlie turned her back to once friendly rifles, continuing to play her part.

 

"Look, this is out of my hands. As a sign of respect the Boss told me to pay you double for this drop." The raider held out the backpack and Charlie snatched it away. "Hey, my pills are in there!" With her quick thinking and nimble hands Charlie dropped a few pills from the bottle as she rummaged for it. Then she tossed it to the raider and walked north.

 

"Are they here for us?" Matt said what they were all thinking.

 

"Only one way to find out. Hurricane, ditch the suit, exfil on foot. Cyclone you next, I'll get Whirlwind and follow. Head to fallback one. Tornado…" Brandon hesitated before giving Rosie her orders. "Sit tight. They aren't looking for you, see what they do. If you lose them, stick with the raiders. Do not engage, copy?"

 

"Solid copy." Rosie watched the snipers in the trees. They didn't move. She didn't move.