Readers of the original Quest may see some familiar pieces of dialogue and description here and there, interspersed as there was not much reason to repeat legwork on certain bits.
February 20th, 2086
Outside Vault 76
Jessica had tried her best not to have preconceptions about what she'd find when she got outside. All she'd really been able to tell was that the exterior radiation, while higher than idea, was within acceptable limits. She'd popped a RadX after pressing the button to open the vault door just enough to get out and prayed that she wasn't going to be met by a horde of mutant cannibal zombies or giant radioactive bugs trying to get in, that she wasn't about to doom the entire vault.
The first thing she saw as the door opened and she raced through the opening as soon as it was big enough, was the light of the setting sun. And that light was bright enough, her eyes so unused to sunlight that she immediately threw up her arm, shading her face, closing her eyes, hissing in surprise like some vampire from a bad horror movie.
"Jesus fucking Christ why didn't I try to get sunglasses?!" Jessica demanded of herself, looking down at the ground, blinking more, shaking her head, cursing her lack of foresight.
The next thing she noticed was that it was cold. Which she had expected, given that it was February. Her Vault Suit was insulated, and where she had it, it was at least not too bad. But her hands and face were hit with an unexpected chill – objectively, Jessica could tell it wasn't so bad, but after 8 years of climate control in the vault…
She shivered, shaking. She had gloves, a warm hat, she'd packed for this, but -
Before she did anything else, she finally took the chance to look around.
The first thing she saw was that there were no dead bodies piled up out front of the Vault. No one had died trying to get into the Vault after the bombs dropped, at least. The Vault had been situated out a couple hours from Flatwoods, built inside of a large hill, forest and wilderness all around it, beyond the roads, the car park, a few bits and pieces. She could see green – evergreen trees. A lot of other trees had no leaves, but it was the 'no leaves' of 'it's winter' not 'the tree is dead forever'
Another theory ruled out.
Not surprising though. Appalachia was never expected to get hit with that many nukes.
There were even plants growing between cracks in the worn, faded stones of the front step… area. She looked down, ahead to the Tricentennial Arch, the steps she'd run up to get to the Vault, the sirens blaring, the madness, the rush -
Jessica closed her eyes again, taking a breath. She couldn't linger on her memories of that awful day. Not now.
Not ever.
Taking off her backpack, Jessica quickly opened it, rooting around, those gloves were in here -
"Hey! Hey you, up at the vault!" A voice called out from somewhere below, and Jessica froze. She started to straighten up, hand going to her pistol as she saw a figure – a man, African American – down below at the second landing, in front of the Tricentennial sign. How had she missed him earlier? She couldn't make out many details at this distance, but he did look like he had some sort of weapon slung over his back, maybe?
Keeping one hand on her pistol she waved at him.
"Uh… Hey?"
Some expert communicator you are, holy shit Jessica what the fuck? Jessica pushed her self-effacing comments to the back of her mind and moved for the stairs, heading down to the Tricentennial Arch. As she got closer, she got a better look at the man.
That was indeed a weapon on his back, it looked like a rifle of some kind – she didn't know her guns very well – but it also looked like it was made of scrap metal, pipes and just… wood? Something about it rang a bell for Jessica, something about a black market in weapons made from stuff like that? But she wasn't sure if she was remembering right or –
Either way, it suggested a few things about the state of the world out here. The patched, worn and faded clothes he wore – the shirt might have once been a blue dress shirt, the pants were maybe khaki at one time, but it was genuinely hard to tell now – also told her something. Namely, that the most hopeful projections were definitely not the case.
Still, the guy looked reasonably healthy, though his skin was weather-beaten, as she got closer, and he didn't seem to be covered in cancerous lumps or open sores or… any sign he was some kind of crazy mutant, so…
The man was shaking his head slowly, mouth open in surprise and wonderment as she came down the stairs. He pinched himself. "What kind of odds is it that the last day of my watch, someone actually comes out after eight years and change? Maria's been sending people up here for years, but nobody-" he cut himself off, shaking his head.
Now that she was on the lower landing, just about ten feet from him, she could also see he had an armband around his wrist – blue fabric with a red heart.
Watch. Send. The armband. All of that suggested organization, hierarchy, a command structure. Someone with enough resources and manpower to send someone to watch a Vault that might or might open…
"Any more of you coming out?" He asked, looking up towards the Vault door, which had already closed by now. He didn't look upset, or angry… fingers crossed this wasn't about trying to invade the Vault to loot it.
Jessica shook her head, "No. Just me."
The man blinked, "So you just… strolled out of your Vault? Your nice, safe vault where there's no radiation, no raiders, no mutants, plenty of food and clean water and just… came out here?" He stared, "The hell's wrong with your Vault that out here seems better?" He laughed, incredulous.
Raiders and mutants. And the mention of plenty of food and clean water. This man didn't seem like he was severely lacking in either, based on her own inexpert opinion. But that mention suggested that food scarcity and lack of clean water were at least viable prospects now. And raiders? Mutants? Were cannibal mutant tribes actually a thing or something? Just not here?
"It's… it's a long story." Jessica said after a moment, exhaling slowly, removing her hand from her pistol. She didn't know this man, hardly knew if she could trust him with… anything, let alone the nuclear silos. Not that she actually even had the first idea of how to find the damn things. She'd made some notes, some theories, but that's all it was.
Worry about that once I have some idea of the lay of the land. The closest town was Flatwoods, so her plan had been to head down there one way or the other, unless this guy had other plans.
"The short version is there was a power struggle inside the Vault, and I lost." That was… accurate, but misleading. But it might engender sympathy.
The man's eyes widened, "You got kicked out?"
"Close enough, yeah." Jessica said, "Like I said, it's –"
"A long story." He waved a hand, "You want to keep it close to the chest, I'm okay with that, but Dassa will probably want more, once we get back to Flatwoods." He blinked, then laughed, "Assuming you're willing to come back with me, anyway. I'm not here to force you or anything."
"I mean… I was planning on heading to Flatwoods anyway, figured that'd be the place to get the lay of things…" Jessica said carefully. The man seemed to be on the level, and he'd made no moves towards his weapon. So she was tentatively going to assume he was friendly. "My name's Jessica, Jessica Hayes," she held out a hand, "And I'm clearly missing a lot more than just your name."
The man laughed, one hand taking hers and shaking it, the other rubbing the back of his head. He had short hair – messy, untamed, but cut short roughly and inexpertly.
"There's a kinda sorta script I'm supposed to be following, but I gotta admit, never expected to actually use it," he admitted, sounding just a touched sheepish, looking at the ground a moment. Then he faced her again. "I'm Paul Leibowitz. Responder, First Class, based out of Flatwoods."
"Good to meet a friendly face, and not…"
"Cannibal mutant zombies and giant bugs?" Paul asked. "I watched sci-fi movies before the end of the world too you know."
Now it was Jessica's turn to laugh ruefully, "Fair enough."
"Now, we do
have mutants and giant bugs and zombies out here," Paul said, "Used to have cannibals, but thank god those sick bastards all got killed." He said all of that so casually, just dropping the mentions of them into the conversation like –
What the-
Her racing thoughts must have shown on her face, and Paul held up his hands, "As long as you know what you're doing, and where you're going, this part of Appalachia is pretty safe." He said confidently. Jessica didn't feel reassured. "Look, I've got some shelter just down the hill, along with food and water. It'll be night soon, and you don't want to be wandering around after dark when you don't know where you're going." He gestured down the hill. "I'll try to fill you in on everything that's happening in Death Virginia these days."
Jessica cleared her throat, "Death Virginia?"
Really didn't raise her confidence in his claim this part of Appalachia was safe.
"Well, it's sure a hell of a lot more deadly than it was back before the Chinese dropped a bunch of bombs on us, and everything else that's happened the last eight years," Paul observed. "But… you take it a day at a time, and today's close to ending."
Jessica swallowed. She'd had her mental breakdowns about the end of the world, psychologically prepared herself for everyone she'd ever known outside the Vault being dead by the time she came out, she…
She'd prepared for this. She could handle this. She had to.
The stakes were too high. She was
not allowed to fail. All her friends and allies in the Vault would need her again, and – and –
She had to find those silos and…
I can't blow them up, but maybe I can sabotage them, so they can never fire? Or – I don't know I can – just knowing where they were would be the first step in stopping Villaneuva from getting his hands on them.
One thing at a time. One day at a time.
"…yeah, that… that's probably a good idea." Jessica let out a long breath, sagging a little. She'd worked herself up for the worst, and so far…
So far, she wasn't facing it. Thank God.
"Okay. Lead the way, and fill me in."
Paul nodded and started down the hill, through the arch, Jessica going after him, rubbing her hands together as she realized she hadn't actually put on those gloves, the chill air getting to her all over again.
"The outpost's not the best insulated, but it's got a firepit, so you'll get warmed up a bit, at least," Paul told her, noticing the motion.
"That's good. Really should have put the gloves on first, before I left. Hat too. Packed both – I just – didn't think everything through."
"If they kicked you out or anything like it, you probably didn't have much time. Panic fucks us all up," Paul shrugged. "Anyway, so, filling you in, let me try to actually go by the script. I'm a Responder – we're… I hate to fucking say it, but we're the closest thing to a government the western half of Appalachia has."
"…you hate to say it?"
"Because we're – we're not
supposed to be a government. We weren't, at first. They weren't, anyway. I joined up after – after the bombs dropped, there was panic, riots, looting, suicides – so many people died, and starvation, freezing during the winter…" he trailed off, voice getting distant, reminding her a bit of veterans talking about their time during the worst battles of the Sino-American War.
He shook his head, "Things were crazy, after – I'm sure you thought about what it was like? Everything you imagined, but worse. We got lucky – only a few nukes, none on the major cities… mostly just the ones," he snapped his fingers, searching for the right word, "the ones that blow up in the sky and spread rads."
"Airburst?"
"That sounds right." Paul shook his head. "But even with Charleston still being around and a lot of people still being alive right after… there was no Governor, the State Senate Majority Leader was missing, eventually Speaker Poole managed to put together an emergency government, out of Charleston."
"She did? Is she – I worked with Speaker Poole. I –" This could be the perfect place to start. She'd have an in with someone in –
Closest thing to government…
"What happened – what happened to the Emergency Government?" She asked. "What happened to Speaker Poole?"
"David Fucking Thorpe happened." Paul snarled, a sudden anger in his voice. Then he forced himself to take a breath. "Let me keep taking it from the top?"
"Right, keep going." Jessica felt her throat go tight, the moment of hope – Poole had been one of the best people she knew, and if she had been in charge here, then Jessica really could have – she could have…
"The Responders formed pretty sooner after everything went to hell. Cops, Firefighters, Emergency Medical Techs, just… people who wanted to help. I joined up after about six months, volunteering to help – couldn't exactly keep being a cashier at Super-Duper Mart, and I had to do
something. We all did. Organized food distribution, water purification, medical triage – the former cops had to put themselves to work fighting looters and pillagers and then the goddamned
raiders," He snarled again.
David Thorpe was a raider then? That would make sense.
Why did the name David Thorpe ring a bell?
"…it was hard. I'm skipping over a lot, but – we were making it. The Responders were helping keep everything together, the Charleston Emergency Government was… it was something, kind of. We were working with Harper's Ferry and even the Free Staters," he scoffed, "They're still more than a bit crazy, but all their preparations – weapons, food, seeds, everything – sure counted for a lot. Made contact with this group of former soldiers in the Cranberry Bog… I thought things were looking good. Like we might actually make it through everything."
"It wasn't like there weren't problems, the raiders, radiation is giving us all slow cancer or whatever, even when we had enough food it was bland, but it was
food, started seeing mutant monsters and – but…"
He trailed off, and Jessica swallowed, trying to process.
Sounds like things were going well. Like… really well? As well as it can when thousands die because of winter and food shortages, but…
"Christmas, 2082. Poole announced that the Emergency Government was going to hold elections next year, we were going to… figure out something permanent." Paul stopped walking, inhaling and turning to face her. "There was some push back from those assholes who were in Governor Evans' party, but with most of their rich asshole backers hiding or dead or gone or not rich anymore since cash didn't matter, it only helped them so much. So Poole announced a big party, Christmas Eve. Celebrated an end to rationing – everything was… going along."
He swallowed, and Jessica tensed, guessing the other shoe was dropping. Paul blinked repeatedly, "A few days before Christmas, the Raiders attacked Summersville, and the leader of the group was taken prisoner. From what I hear – I was clear all the way in Grafton at the time… so pissed I was gonna miss the party –" Paul tensed, taking another breath, "The leader of the attack was David Thorpe's girlfriend or mistress or whatever."
"Why is David Thorpe? Some kind of Raider Boss?"
"
The Raider boss. He used to be the CEO of Arktos Pharma, was at that Ski Resort, Top of the World, when the bombs dropped. All the rich bastards there decided to become the worst fucking monsters you've ever heard of – raping, chem-addicted, murdering, pillaging psychopaths. Some even went cannibal as their main thing, but they're all dead now." Paul was shaking now, his words surprisingly calm, managing to keep himself from snarling, but it didn't take a genius communicator like her to know how much he hated Thorpe.
Cannibalism is a terrible survival strategy, long-term. Those round table discussions about rebuilding after they left Vault 76 had covered that one pretty early, the logistical, practical and health reasons why cannibalism was a
really bad idea, unless there was literally no other choice.
The reminder of the fact that he was the guy who had run Arktos Pharma had shaken a few errant remembered details loose – he was a hardass, a fan of mass layoffs and hostile takeovers. Tax advantages had seen him move to Appalachia like, ten years before the bombs dropped? What little she remembered of him, knew of him – she'd have never guessed he'd become some 'Raider' like out of a bad sci-fi story, but…
Greedy, selfish, unconcerned with others… it tracked.
"There were plans to try to make an exchange trade her for… I dunno. Something." Paul held up a hand, "I heard about all the details later, second and thirdhand, but no one sent a message to him before he decided to just – just
kill everyone," Paul was blinking back tears now, voice thick, cracking as he tried to control himself.
"How… how did he-?"
"Blew up Summerville Dam. On Christmas Eve. Thousands of people, from all over Western Appalachia – dead overnight. And his girlfriend."
Jessica felt a pit open in her stomach, horror and disgust –
People in my government and China's approved nukes that killed millions? And I can still feel sick at some asshole just killing thousands?
"Poole died, pretty much everyone in the Charleston Emergency Government died, a lot of Responders died… but those of us that are left – we couldn't just let everyone in every other town, every little community that had worked with us, with the CEG – they needed us."
Paul exhaled, wiping at his eyes and shook his head. "These days we're based out of Morgantown Airport, but we've got people all over Western Appalachia."
"Including Flatwoods?"
"Yeah," Paul nodded. He gestured for her to follow him as he turned, "We need to get to the outpost before it's dark,"
As they walked, Jessica had a million questions – about the Raiders, about Charleston, about the CEG… about people she knew, were they still alive (almost certainly not, under the circumstances, why bother asking?) burning in her mind, but –
She didn't know where to start. How many people were left in Appalachia now? The 'Territory of Appalachia' - and her grandparents had bitched about the change from 'West Virginia' to 'Appalachia', even though it had happened when they were kids – had about 2 million people in 2077. A complete breakdown in trade and travel across the country would have killed people from lack of food, medicine… starvation, winter, riots, suicides… she couldn't imagine how many thousands – how many
hundreds of thousands – had died just in that first year alone. Panicked stampedes alone could have killed god knew how many.
And then people
kept dying. Because god forbid a guy like Thorpe
stop being a selfish psychopath.
And the Responders? Western Appalachia was what was under their authority? And the Free Staters were in charge around Harper's Ferry? And ex-military in Cranberry Bog? Why wouldn't they have stayed loyal to the government? Soldiers were the most fanatically patriotic, in her experience.
But then, if there was no government to respond to…
"There was never… there's really been no attempt by any part of the Federal Government to… try to do
anything? Jessica asked. "They just… nothing?" She couldn't imagine the President and Vice President, Congress just hanging around and dying – they had to have fled to some fancy bunker, right? Were they still there? Maybe communications were cut off, like with Vault 76?
Still, you'd think there'd be some sort of military formation that retained… coherence? Tried to establish some sort of order? Other territory governments? Commonwealth governments? Someone had have tried to keep things together at least regionally? Had they all failed?
"Maybe they're all dead." Paul shook his head. "There's trade that trickles in from outside of Appalachia – I don't think I've heard any of them mention any sort of organized Federal government."
"The roads are safe enough for long distance trade?"
"Define safe. Everyone's traveling in caravans and armed to the teeth, but yeah, trade happens." They took a turn down the hill, and a tower/shack/think made from wood came into view ahead of her.
Jessica wasn't sure how sturdy it was, but it was still standing, so there was that. There was a doorway, or at least she figured it was, covered by a sheet of scrap metal, and stairs leading up to the top of the little tower, offering a bit of a vantage point.
"The Vault 76 Outpost." Paul explained. "There's been someone coming up here a couple days a month for about the last five years."
"Just… to watch the Vault?"
That's all? Just to check? No scheming to get in?
"Someone had to come out sometime, though I honestly never expected it to happen on my watch." Paul shrugged, wiping a hand down his face, and then approaching the sheet of metal, lifting it and putting it aside, revealing a doorway. "It's not the best insulated, but it'll be better than being outside," Paul offered, and Jessica wasted no time getting inside, where Paul was already trying to light some sticks inside a firepit, succeeding after several attempts, tinder lighting, and then the sticks. Paul pulled the metal sheet back in front of the doorway.
Paul put a log into the pit, and then opened one of those familiar blue coolers, rooting around inside it. While he did that, Jessica looked around the little space:
Two sleeping bags – patched and worn, but clean. The fire pit. A radio. An unlit lamp, probably burning oil.
"Here," Paul handed her a glass Nuka-Cola bottle holding clear water. "I figure you probably brought something with you out of the Vault," Jessica nodded, accepting the bottle. "Probably purer than this – this is boiled and filtered, and mostly rad free."
"Mostly?" That was not a word someone wanted to hear about how free of radiation something was.
"We're all going to die of cancer eventually from the rads just floating around," Paul shrugged, "The Doctors figure the water won't speed that up much, but it will set a Geiger counter off just barely," Jessica proved his words by holding the bottle up to her Pipboy, getting very quiet crackling.
"...I suppose I did realize I was chopping ten years off my life when I left..." Jessica murmured.
"There's the spirit!" Paul laughed. He also handed her a round disc of some sort of hard bread, and a piece of jerky. "Save your water and food until you've got nothing else – I'm guessing it's stuff that'll keep?"
"Yeah." She looked at the jerky. "Do I want to ask?"
"Venison. Though more and more deer have two heads now, doesn't change the taste."
"...Seriously? Two heads?" Jessica shook her head.
"Right out of one of those bad movies, yup." Paul agreed. "The bread's hardtack – soldiers ate it way back in the Civil War, according to our research guys. It's tasteless, can break your teeth and gets beyond boring after a while, but it keeps, and during winter..."
"You need that." Jessica nodded.
You did guess you wouldn't be able to eat like you had in the Vault forever, but… God. Zero to Sixty, right?
Paul sat down next to the fire, holding his own jerky and hardtack, and another Nuka-Cola bottle of water next to him. He broke off a piece of his hardtack with some effort and popped the piece into his mouth, sucking on it. "Usually you want to crush it up into stew or soup or something, dip it in your water… something. Don't bite directly on it whole." He spoke with his mouth full, sucking on the bit of bread like it was a hard candy.
He lit the oil lamp, the two light sources casting flickering shadows over the interior space, but at least letting her see what she was going to eat.
The hardtack really didn't look appetizing. Didn't look unappetizing. Just…
looked.
Jessica took nearly a minute to actually break a small piece off the hardtack – eventually whacking it against the glass bottle of water – and put it in her mouth, slowly, still insure.. She very carefully pressed her molars against it, and met resistance. She pressed more.
More resistance.
She decided to suck on it for a bit, like Paul had.
Jessica still had so many questions, and she still didn't know where to start.
"So… I appreciate the help, the food, the water-" She twisted off the cap and took a sip. The water had a heavily filtered and boiled taste – or rather, lack of taste – but it didn't quite taste like the water she knew from the Vault.
Really hope I'm not killing myself with this.
"But you're wondering about the catch?" Paul bit a chunk out of his jerky.
"Something like that." Between sucking on it and the water, the piece of hardtack in her mouth was now soggy enough to chew.
"No catch yet. The whole point of the Responders is to help people. But… we can't give away free food forever. We sell some, for people who just want to trade for it – there's some moonshiner up in these hills somewhere, comes down to Flatwoods once a month to trade booze for food." Paul's expression as he mentioned the booze told Jessica all she needed to know about it's taste.
Paint thinner? Still. It was good to know that the old West Virginia/Appalachia tradition of backwoods Moonshine was still going strong.
"But mostly it's food for work, or some kind of service. When I'm not here, I usually run messages and patrol the roads around Flatwoods and the nearby farms." Paul explained. "So, long term, if you want to keep getting food from us, you need to chip in, in
some way, if you can."
"Well, I have no problem with that." Until she had a lead or an
idea on where to start looking for the Silos… helping help people was perfect. And maybe Jessica could make herself useful enough to get… favors? Maybe even rise up the ranks? She wondered how that worked. "I don't really have anywhere specific to go, and… I mean, I just heard about you guys today, but you seem like good people. Where do I sign up?"
"You'll want to talk to Dassa when we get to Flatwoods. She's in charge of all the Responders there and nearby areas, and basically our chief logistics woman too." Paul laughed, "Everyone wears a lot of hats out here. Too much work, and not enough people."
Makes sense. Jessica wondered what she could bring to the table. She didn't know how useful her political activism and campaigning expertise could be. She was good –
great – at organizing people, but that did require a certain level of trust and familiarity. She'd picked up enough filling in where she could at the Vault…
Maybe I can do the same for the Responders? She knew enough medicine to do a bit of triage and help around an infirmary. She knew enough about mechanics to help with small jobs in the Vaults, picked up over the years. She could cook, if she had to. She could clean and if nothing else…
Someone's got to dig the shit holes. Jessica had to imagine a lot of plumbing didn't work anymore.
Jessica
really hoped she could do something more useful than that. Something that could give her a chance to -
Jessica snorted as she realized she was already planning her rapid ascent up the ranks of an organization she'd just heard of. She didn't even know who she needed to kiss up to and get favors from and she was already imagining doing it.
Can take the girl away from politics, can't take the politics away from the girl.
Jessica nodded, "That makes sense." She ate some of her jerky – it tasted like her distant memory of venison jerky, if very dry, pretty hard and… just a little off. "I have… so many questions, but..." She looked through a small window high in the walls of the little shack, a place for smoke to escape through, and saw that it was fully dark outside now. "I think I need to sleep on everything first."
"It's got to be a lot to process," Paul stated the obvious with enviable skill. He looked over at the radio, "Mind if I turn it on for a bit? This late, it'll just be recorded music unless there's an emergency." Jessica shook her head. Paul fiddled with it, and then the dial, and a familiar instrumental piece Jessica couldn't remember the name of started playing.
"So you have a working radio station?
"Oh yeah. Responder Radio, out of Morgantown, does news and a few interviews, plus the tunes. But we're not the only one. There's a couple others, mostly music, not all. Some stations with pretty short range – Responder Radio goes clear from Grafton to Lewisburg most of the time, but we've got solid equipment and some real juice to put behind it."
Jessica fiddled with her PipBoy, picking up five total major radio signals – and various smaller weaker ones. She looked at the radio, identifying which one was 'Responder Radio' and quickly naming that frequency in her PipBoy.
She debated asking about the others, but Paul was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, clearly awake, but listening to the music, occasionally taking a drink of water or a small bite of his food.
Jessica decided to save questions for tomorrow. Maybe it was time to stop thinking for a bit, and just… process.
I hope to god leaving the Vault wasn't the worst mistake of my life.
February 21st, 2086
Vault 76 Responder Outpost
Jessica felt herself being shaken awake, an unfamiliar voice close by. Jessica's eyes snapped open –
Paul was crouched by her sleeping back, hand on her shoulder. Sunlight was creeping in through into the room, still dim and rising, the fire long since burned out from the low embers it had been when she'd gone to sleep.
Thankfully, she remembered where she was, why she was here – no confused 'wait, why is this not my room in the Vault' running through her head.
Paul took his hand off her shoulder and pressed a finger to his lips.
"Listen," He whispered, voice barely audible. Jessica slowly sat up, straining her ears, hearing nothing for a moment, and then –
Scuttling, like a crap crawling over something. But there was a metallic edge to it. And then an electronic sound – no, a voice, distorted, but definitely a computer generated voice. Speaking in…
Chinese?
"Is that-?" Jessica started, and Paul nodded.
"Questions later, help me with them now." He jerked his head towards Jessica's 10mm pistol as he grabbed his rifle. "I move that," he pointed at the sheet of metal that was the 'door' of the shack, "and they start shooting lasers at us. Stay low, use the walls as cover."
What the hell are – what is he talking about? That wasn't people out there – some kind of robots?
Chinese robots?
Jessica pulled herself out of the sleeping bag, grabbed the gun, flicking off the safety, running through her drills on the shooting range in the Vault. She was better than average – Annie Oakley, however, she was not. And she'd never shot
at something…
She swallowed, tensed, holding the pistol in both hands. Still crouching, Paul moved over to the sheet of metal and reached his hand out, giving it a firm push before ducking back around the doorway.
The sheet tilted forward and then hit the door with a soft thump, revealing the wooded hills of Appalachia lit by the light of the rising sun, and the two robots – green, shaped like inverted oversized bullets, thin-fragile looking legs holding them up as they skittered towards the shack, a single red star visible on each of them.
Jessica stared for a moment – and then they each shot, a red laser coming from each, one impacting the exterior of the shack, the other flying over her head, hitting the wall, immediately scorching it.
"Fuck!" She squeezed the trigger, firing blindly, wildly, all lessons about aiming flying from her mind – her bullets failed to connect at all, and after several shots, another missed laser, Jessica dove down lower, laying prone, rolling to the side, exposing as little of herself through the open doorway as possible.
She closed her eyes sucking in air, trying to steady herself, heart pounding, blood rushing –
She heard Paul take several shots of his own, slower, more measured – she opened her eyes, seeing him using the edge of the doorway as cover, poking his head out, taking aim, firing –
Two shots had hit one of the robots, bits of metal blasted off of it, but it was clearly less fragile than she'd thought on first look.
I can't just – this is not going to be my first showing in a fight! Pride, if nothing else – Jessica was not going to let herself go down as someone who lost at the first sign of violence. Of something getting hard!
She pushed herself back up into a crouch, trying to get into a better angle from inside the shack – and then she took aim and fired –
This time she was rewarded by the sound of her bullet hitting metal, punching into the robot, leaving a hole in its body. It fired at her again, and somehow Jessica either managed to dodge it or its aim continued to be bad – she wasn't sure which – and then she fired again, then again – the second shot missed, the third hit, this one getting one of its legs –
The leg broke clean off and the little robot – it wouldn't even have come up to her knee – skittered around for a moment, trying to stay up, but instead it tilted over, hitting the ground, legs whirring, trying to move, shooting – but it's new angle meant the laser just hit the dirt.
Jessica fired again, and this one went right through the center of the body, and then Paul's next shot did something similar, leaving both robots knocked out of commission, sparking, legs twitching for a few moments.
Gasping, Jessica lowered her pistol. Her vault suit felt too tight, and she zipped the top down a bit, exposing her collarbone.
"Okay," She said, still breathily heavily, "What the fuck were those?"
"Some kind of Chinese robot." Paul's gift for the obvious struck again. He shook his head, "That's about all anyone knows. They showed up… 2079? People freaked when they first showed up, terrified some kind of Chinese Invasion force was just over the horizon or something. According to some vets, the Reds used a crappier version of these things in Alaska as scouts… but these are tougher."
"Is their aim always –" Because really, how had they not landed a single shot? Jessica knew that her Vault Suit was at least partially resistant to lasers and had some light weaving of antiballistic fibers into its makeup, it was one of the many reasons they were the standardized outfit Vault-Tec had decided on it as the baseline for the vaults, from what she'd gathered from the VTU graduates in 76.
"Not always. We got lucky." Paul confirmed. "Maybe these ones were a bad batch or… something. Some seem to be tougher than others in general."
"Where – where do they – so there's no Chinese Invasion force anywhere, right?"
Was Villanueva right? If that piece of shit was even a little-
"If there is, no one's told me about it," Paul assured her. "Best guess, either there's some secret Chinese spy base somewhere – the ones you always heard rumors about – churning these out, or someone is making them for another reason and pretending they're Chinese."
"Or," Paul added, "The Free Staters are right and it's all some false flag thing the government set up that went wrong after the bombs dropped." He whistled and circled his finger around his ear. "They were right about prepping for the end of the world, sure, but they're still paranoid as hell."
Jessica grunted. She'd sympathized with the basic motivations of the Free States movement – at least until it got violent and started proposing secession. They were right about the path the US was going down, their resistance to the corporations and the increasingly heavy-handed Federal, Commonwealth and Territorial governments.
But quitting, even if it would have worked, was never the right solution. You don't fix a country by leaving it, you do the hard work of actually organizing! And you don't kill people just for disagreeing with you.
The other thing that had left her looking askance at them was the weird fusion extreme libertarian elements with… not communist, but other forms of left-wing thought. Anarchism was a fundamentally left-wing viewpoint, apart from some fringe extremists. The strange bedfellows of it all had been hard for her to figure out if they were worse than the disease even before they started actually shooting and killing people.
And of course, their paranoia had meant they were never going to be taken seriously.
Stopped clocks can be right about impending nuclear war though… and maybe even Vault-Tec…
"They're mostly just a nuisance – their lasers can hurt, but it's if they get close and start cutting at you with those legs of theirs that they can kill you. If they gathered in large enough numbers, they could be a real problem, but they don't." Paul slung his gun over his back, gathering a few items, including picking up the cooler, and then stepped out of the shack. Jessica grabbed her backpack, holstering her pistol and putting the pack on once she was outside.
Paul crouched by the two dead robots, and picked one up, "Can you carry this while we head down to the road?" Jessica took it wordlessly, eyebrow raised – the metal was still warm, but at least not burning. "There's perfectly good metal and electronics in these things." Paul picked up the other and stood.
"First lesson for surviving in Death Virginia," Paul said, grinning, "Just about everything is useful to someone somewhere eventually. Waste not, want not. Salvage what you can, scrap what you can't, and don't throw
anything away if you can manage it."
Jessica looked at his rifle, made of pipes and scrap, and then nodded slowly. "I'll keep that in mind."