Fallout - Chapter 115: Two Paths (Patreon)

Jace didn’t answer Maxson’s question directly.

He walked over to the conference table and tapped several commands into the holographic projector’s terminal. The dark projector came back to life. This time, instead of M7-91’s memories, it displayed a high-resolution topographic map.

The network of pipelines along the Charles River slowly spread across the screen.

Main municipal sewer lines, branch pipes, storm drains, abandoned construction tunnels. Dense lines crisscrossed the display like a network of blood vessels buried underground. They were remnants of pre-War Boston’s municipal infrastructure. No one had maintained them for two hundred years, yet most of the structures remained intact.

Jace traced a line across the screen with his finger, following an ordinary-looking drainage pipe that extended from the banks of the Charles River.

“This is one of the Charles River drainage pipes,” he said.

Then he zoomed in.

Maxson’s gaze sharpened as the image expanded. Beside the drainage pipe, another line appeared. It was narrower and deeper, running from the riverbank toward the underground ruins of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology.

For most of their length, the two pipes were far apart.

But along one section, they ran almost side by side.

Only a single wall separated them.

Maxson stared at the thin gap between the two lines on the holographic map.

“We go in here?”

“Yes.”

“How wide is the pipe?”

“Wide enough for troops in power armor.”

Maxson fell silent for several seconds.

His mind was already racing, working through everything from the entry point and route of advance to troop deployment and extraction plans.

Jace didn’t wait for another question. He brought up a second image, a map of the Institute’s internal structure.

By combining M7-91’s memories with the fragmentary information Saifu had previously provided, they had managed to piece together a reasonably complete map of the Institute.

“Here’s the plan.”

Jace moved his finger across the display. A red line entered through a cooling water pipe, passed through the outer underground structure, and headed straight toward the Institute’s core.

“An elite team infiltrates through the cooling water pipe. We pass through the outer maintenance corridors, avoid the areas with the heaviest patrols, and cut straight into the reactor level.”

The red line stopped on the lowest level of the Institute map.

“We fight our way to the reactor, disable the safety lock at the terminal, and plant a Fusion Pulse Charge at the core.”

He looked up at Maxson.

“Then we extract Dr. Li and pull out. We detonate the bomb remotely. The nuclear blast destroys the entire underground facility, and the Institute is wiped out for good.”

Maxson remained silent for quite some time.

He had done his homework before coming to the Commonwealth. He knew exactly what the Institute had been doing in the Wasteland. Kidnappings and replacements, massacres of settlements, infiltration of organizations through Synths.

It seemed the Minutemen hated the Institute far more than he had expected.

They weren’t planning to seize any spoils at all.

No technology. No equipment.

They simply wanted the Institute completely destroyed.

They were even more radical than the Brotherhood.

Maxson quickly weighed the situation.

The Institute certainly deserved to be destroyed. Those scientists had spent two hundred years underground without any outside oversight, free to do whatever they pleased.

The FEV experiments alone were enough to condemn the entire Institute. If that virus ever escaped containment, the whole Commonwealth could be doomed.

From a security standpoint, completely destroying the Institute and everything connected to it was undoubtedly the safest option.

But...

The scientific data inside was incredibly valuable.

Two centuries of research.

Closed ecosystem technology.

Advanced energy systems.

And the fundamental theories behind Synth technology. Even if no one ever built another Synth, the underlying technology was still priceless.

Blowing all of that up would be an enormous waste.

Maxson made up his mind to persuade Jace.

Rather than reject the plan outright, he remained silent for a few seconds before offering an alternative in a measured tone.

“Your infiltration and demolition plan is sound, but we can make it more comprehensive.”

Jace looked at him and waited.

“I brought a piece of equipment from the Capital Wasteland. A high-energy laser excavation unit,” Maxson said. “It has enough power to cut directly through solid rock and quickly open a passage straight underground.”

He didn’t mention Liberty Prime.

That was still the Brotherhood’s greatest trump card. The enormous pre-War military robot had yet to be fully restored, but its main laser cannon could be removed and used independently.

“We attack on two fronts, from both inside and outside,” Maxson continued. “One force infiltrates through the cooling pipe, creates chaos inside, and ties down their troops. Meanwhile, we use the laser equipment outside to cut a direct route into the Institute’s core. Then the main force storms through the breach.”

He paused before adding,

“That way, we take whatever is worth taking first, then destroy whatever needs to be destroyed. The two objectives don’t conflict.”

Jace didn’t answer immediately.

He stood there, staring at the narrow gap between the two pipelines on the holographic map.

For roughly five seconds, he said nothing.

Then he slowly nodded.

“It’s worth considering.”

Maxson saw the hesitation and pressed his advantage.

“What about the Institute’s modified plants? Radiation-free crops, fast-growing algae, synthetic meat cultivation technology. Are you sure the Commonwealth doesn’t need any of that?”

He glanced across the conference table at Sturges, Preston, and Liza before turning back to Jace.

“Even if the Minutemen don’t need it, settlements across the Commonwealth could use those technologies to improve their living conditions. There’s no reason to destroy everything at once.”

Jace fell silent again.

Finally, he seemed to relent, though there was still a trace of reluctance in his voice.

“All right. We’ll do it your way. A two-pronged attack.”

Maxson nodded.

He had no idea he had just followed the path Jace had laid out for him from the beginning.

Jace had never intended to storm the Institute through a single cooling pipe.

He had deliberately proposed an extremely aggressive plan. Destroy everything, leave nothing behind.

The point was to make Maxson uncomfortable enough to volunteer his own assistance.

If Jace had opened by saying, “We need the Brotherhood’s laser excavation capabilities,” Maxson might have negotiated, bargained, or demanded a share of the spoils.

But if Jace said, “I’m going to blow up the entire Institute,” then Maxson would be the one to step forward and say, “Hold on. I have a better idea.”

People were always more willing to believe in something they thought they had fought for themselves.

The two spent the entire afternoon working through the details.

Troop deployment, timing, communication frequencies, extraction routes. Every point was examined and reconsidered several times.

By the time darkness fell, Maxson stood and rolled his stiff shoulders.

“You said there was some kind of ceremony today?”

Jace stood as well.

“Right. It’s time to settle Nate’s business.”

...

That evening, at Sanctuary Hills.

Moonlight spilled across rooftops weathered by two centuries of wind and rain, coating the ruined town in silver.

There was no smell of gunpowder in the air. In this settlement near the heart of Minutemen-controlled territory, the night was peaceful.

Nate stood in the open ground at the center of town, holding something wrapped in cloth.

Kremvh’s Tooth.

Even through the cloth, the ritual blade gave off a strange sensation.

It wasn’t cold.

It wasn’t warm.

It felt like some peculiar kind of emptiness.

Before him, eight feral ghouls had been bound to eight temporary wooden stakes.

The Parkers, the Donoghues, the Sumners, along with Rosa and Little Chris.

Two hundred years ago, they had lived in Sanctuary Hills as Nate’s neighbors.

Two hundred years later, this was what remained of them.

Withered skin. Sharp nails. Mouths capable of nothing but low, guttural snarls.

Tonight, it would finally end.

Several people stood around the clearing.

Maxson stood near the edge with his Proctors, arms folded and silent. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the feral ghouls.

Danse was there as well.

He wore an ordinary tactical outfit rather than power armor and stood a short distance behind Nate.

When Maxson noticed him, one eyebrow rose slightly.

He hadn’t expected Danse to be there.

“Danse, you came to witness the ceremony too?”

Danse nodded.

“Elder. Nate and I fought together at Dunwich Borers. He invited me, so I came.”

Maxson asked nothing further.

On the other side of the clearing stood Hancock and several pre-War ghouls.

They kept their distance and simply watched, as though they had come to say farewell to others of their kind who had suffered for far too long.

Beside Hancock stood a ghoul Maxson had never seen before.

The ghoul wore a priest’s robe so worn that its original color was almost impossible to make out. The collar had faded white from use, and threads hung loose from the cuffs, yet the robe itself had been carefully washed and kept clean.

His face bore the scars and wrinkles typical of a non-feral ghoul.

But his eyes were different.

There was compassion in them.

His name was Gabe.

Hancock had found him at the Union's Hope Cathedral.

Gabe was an unusual man.

Even among ghouls, he stood apart.

He believed feral ghouls were merely fellow ghouls trapped inside madness.

He believed their souls were still there.

And he had never stopped trying to restore their sanity.

That belief had gotten him attacked by feral ghouls more than once.

He had never given up.

When Gabe learned the purpose of tonight’s “Ascension Ceremony,” he volunteered to lead the prayer.

Father Gabe stepped into the center of the clearing and faced the eight feral ghouls struggling and snarling against their restraints.

There was no fear on his face.

He simply looked at them as though they were eight wounded animals trapped inside cages.

Then he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and began to pray.

His voice carried through the night.

It wasn’t loud, but it was clear and steady.

“Loving Heavenly Father, we come before Your throne of grace and entrust these souls, trapped in this world, entirely into Your hands.”

“We know that Your promise never changes. God will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, no more sorrow, no more crying, and no more pain. The hardship, weariness, and suffering of this world end here.”

“We ask You to open the gates of heaven and receive these servants whom You love, that they may dwell in Your glory and find eternal rest. We also ask You to ease the pain in our hearts and grant us the faith to await the day when we will meet again.”

“Watch over these unfortunate souls, and surround us with Your love.”

“In the holy name of the Lord Jesus Christ, we pray.”

“Amen.”

As the final word faded, those gathered around the clearing bowed their heads.

Even Maxson remained silent for a moment.

Gabe opened his eyes and picked up a clay jar from beside him.

It contained water.

Ordinary clean water.

But Nate’s blood had been mixed into it.

Gabe approached the first feral ghoul.

Mr. Parker.

Nate’s former neighbor now bared his teeth at Gabe, a hoarse growl rasping from his throat.

Gabe dipped his hand into the water and pressed it against Parker’s forehead.

Clear water trickled down the ghoul’s withered skin.

It was a baptism.

In Christian ritual, the baptized are immersed in water, symbolizing burial with Christ and separation from sin and their former life. Emerging from the water symbolizes rising again with Christ and receiving new life.

But tonight was different.

Tonight wasn’t about granting them new life.

It was about allowing them to rest.

So Gabe omitted the rest of the ritual.

He simply touched the water to their foreheads.

The second.

The third.

All the way to the eighth.

With each one, the ghoul’s struggling weakened slightly.

They didn’t stop completely.

But the movements became smaller, as though something inside them was slowly becoming calm.

When Gabe stepped aside, Nate moved forward.

He gripped Kremvh’s Tooth.

The instant he pulled away the cloth, the blade failed to reflect the moonlight.

Moonlight touched its edge and seemed to disappear into it, swallowed without producing even the faintest glint.

Nate approached Mr. Parker.

He looked at the face that no longer resembled the man he remembered.

But Nate still remembered what that face had once looked like.

He remembered a morning before the Great War, when Parker had been mowing his lawn. Parker had seen Nate leaving the house and raised a hand to wave.

“I’m sorry.”

Nate drove the blade into Parker’s side.

No blood sprayed.

As the blade entered the dried flesh, there came an extremely faint sound, like a bubble bursting.

Parker’s body suddenly went rigid.

Then it relaxed.

His head dropped forward.

And then a gray-white, translucent figure slowly rose from the corpse.

Mr. Parker.

As he had looked before the War.

There were no scars on his face.

No withered skin.

No exposed teeth.

He was simply an ordinary middle-aged man, wearing the plaid shirt he had often worn before the War, his hair neatly combed.

He looked down at the corpse hanging from the stake.

Then he raised his head and saw Nate.

There was a complicated look in his eyes.

Gratitude.

Relief.

And a trace of sympathy.

Then he spoke.

His voice seemed to come from somewhere far away, carrying a faint, unreal echo.

“Nate...”

“You’ve suffered.”

Nate’s fingers tightened slightly around the knife.

He said nothing.

Mr. Parker glanced at the living people standing behind Nate.

Maxson.

Danse.

Jace.

Gabe.

Then a faint smile appeared on his face.

“Thank that gentleman for us.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his body began to glow.

Soft golden light spread outward from his chest like ripples from a stone dropped into still water.

Then he disappeared.

The instant the light vanished, the charred corpse began to burn from within.

There were no flames.

No smoke.

Only a silent combustion spreading outward from inside the body.

Within seconds, every trace of soft tissue had disappeared.

All that remained was a clean white skeleton, standing silently against the wooden stake.

Nate didn’t pause for long.

He moved to the second feral ghoul.

Mrs. Donoghue.

Then the third.

The fourth.

Each strike entered precisely beside the ribs.

Each time, the same thing happened.

A soul rose from the body in its pre-War form, thanked Nate, and disappeared into the light.

When Rosa’s soul emerged, she looked no older than her teens.

A young girl with her hair tied in a ponytail.

She looked at Nate, her eyes slightly red.

“I saw my mom and dad. They’re waiting for me over there.”

She smiled.

Then she disappeared almost eagerly.

Little Chris was the last.

The boy, who had been barely over ten years old before the War, stood before Nate exactly as he had once looked.

There was no fear on his face.

No sadness.

Only the relief of finally being free.

“Mr. Nate, I heard them say your wife is still in the Vault.”

Nate nodded.

Little Chris spoke earnestly.

“She’ll wake up. Someone as good as you shouldn’t have to stay here alone.”

Then he disappeared too.

When the final glow faded, only eight white skeletons remained in the clearing, standing silently beneath the moonlight.

No one spoke.

Sturges stood at the edge of the crowd, his eyes slightly red.

He sniffed hard and pretended the night wind was bothering him.

Danse stood quietly, his gaze resting on the eight skeletons.

His expression remained calm.

But his shoulders weren’t as tense as usual.

Even Codsworth had fallen silent.

Though he hadn’t seen any of it.

The rising souls.

The light.

The translucent figures.

His optical sensors had detected nothing.

All Codsworth had seen was Nate plunge the blade into the sides of the feral ghouls, after which their bodies silently crumbled away until only skeletons remained.

Yet there was something in Codsworth’s silence.

An emotion even he didn’t know how to interpret.

Father Gabe stood at the edge of the clearing with his head bowed, apparently murmuring another prayer.

Hancock removed his distinctive tricorn hat.

For him, that gesture was extraordinarily rare.

And beyond everyone else’s attention, Maxson stood in a corner untouched by moonlight, staring at the eight skeletons.

After a moment, he murmured so quietly that only he could hear himself.

“...This world is insane.”

Despite his words, his gaze never left the skeletons.

His thoughts were filled with complicated emotions he couldn’t put into words.

Nate remained where he was, holding the ritual blade.

There was still no blood on its edge.

It seemed capable of swallowing everything except blood itself.

He lowered his head and looked at Kremvh’s Tooth.

Then he looked at the eight skeletons.

And finally, he let out a long, slow breath.