Fallout - Chapter 122: Nuka-World and the Glowing Sea (Patreon)

As the two Vertibirds crossed the western mountains of the Commonwealth, Preston caught sight of the basin.

It wasn't the barren wasteland he'd imagined, the kind of lifeless expanse that looked as though nuclear bombs had plowed through it again and again.

Instead, a sprawling cluster of buildings emerged through the greenish-gray radioactive haze. Massive roller coaster tracks coiled through the center of the basin like a steel python, while half the rusted skeleton of a towering Ferris wheel protruded from the mist.

Even after two hundred years of exposure to the elements, the brightly colored arches and signs still carried traces of the pre-War extravagance that had bordered on madness.

Nuka-World.

Preston stood beside the Vertibird's open hatch, one hand gripping a handrail on the cabin wall while he scanned the terrain below through his binoculars. Wind screamed past the fuselage, whipping the hem of his coat back and forth.

The thunder of the rotors filled the canyon, drowning out every other sound.

There were ten people aboard: six Minutemen scouts in olive-drab Type 92 Powered Suits, three fully armed Brotherhood of Steel field Scribes, and Preston himself.

The second Vertibird was reserved for the power armor unit.

All ten sets of T-51 Power Armor were occupied and ready, with Emma leading the unit. Every soldier had been honed into an elite through extensive training in the VR simulation training pods.

The final two Vertibirds followed behind, packed with combat supplies of every kind.

The formation had taken off from Boston Airport, crossed the western mountains, then followed a partially collapsed pre-War highway southwest for roughly one hundred and fifty kilometers.

The pilot's voice came over the intercom.

"We're over the target area. Estimated landing point: rooftop platform of the Nuka-World Power Plant."

Preston patted the scout beside him on the shoulder and signaled for everyone to prepare for landing. The entire cabin immediately came alive with final equipment checks and the sharp clicks of weapons being chambered.

Nuka-World Power Plant.

It was a massive concrete structure. Years of wind and rain had covered its outer walls in cracks and moss, but the main body of the building remained intact, with no major structural collapse.

The landing gear slammed onto the concrete platform with a dull metallic crash.

Preston was the first out of the Vertibird. Rifle raised, he quickly swept the area.

The platform was wide open. The main structure of the power plant extended below them, with several massive steam pipes running beneath the roof.

The second Vertibird landed close behind, its rotors whipping dust into the air.

The hatch opened, and soldiers in T-51 Power Armor charged out one after another. Their gray armor gleamed coldly in the sunlight, and every step landed with a heavy metallic thud.

Once the troops had disembarked, the Vertibirds took off again. They still had additional personnel and supplies to ferry in, so none of them would remain here.

Emma wore a set of T-51 Power Armor bearing the Minutemen's white emblem on the shoulder plate.

After landing, she looked around. The moment she spotted the towering roller coaster tracks and Ferris wheel in the distance, her eyes visibly brightened.

"...It's that big?"

Preston walked straight to the edge of the platform, raised his binoculars, and looked down into the basin.

The entire Nuka-World amusement park was shrouded in a faint greenish radioactive haze.

Six distinctly themed areas fanned outward from the entrance, each with its own architectural style and signature structures.

Preston frowned.

He had grown up in the Commonwealth. He had seen the Glowing Sea and knew exactly what the land and sky looked like there.

The haze over Nuka-World was nowhere near as deadly as the Glowing Sea, but it still made one thing clear.

This place was toxic.

"Nice place."

The voice came from behind him. It belonged to one of the Brotherhood's field Scribes, a man in his early thirties with round glasses and a portable data terminal hanging from his chest.

"You sure about that?"

"Of course."

The Scribe pushed his glasses up and pointed toward the mountains along the edge of the plant, sounding almost wistful.

"It may not compare to the Commonwealth, but next to the Capital Wasteland, this place is practically paradise."

"Look. There are living trees here. They get sparser toward the center of the basin, but there's vegetation at both the foot of the mountains and up on the peaks. That means it rains here, there's clean water, and the soil can be cultivated."

At that, Preston gave the basin another careful look.

The Scribe was right. There was water and vegetation here, and the conditions for survival were far better than in most parts of the wasteland.

But the radioactive haze still didn't make sense.

There were no nuclear craters anywhere nearby. This clearly wasn't an area contaminated by a direct nuclear strike, so where had all this radiation come from?

As Preston considered the question, Josie voiced the same thought.

"There isn't even a bomb crater here. How did the radiation get this bad?"

Josie stood on the other side of the platform, holding an old promotional map she'd found inside the plant.

The paper was yellowed and torn, but the layout of Nuka-World was still clearly visible. She studied the map while comparing it against the actual terrain.

The Scribe pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pointed toward two enormous wrecks on the right side of the power plant.

"Probably those two."

Josie followed his finger.

They were the remains of the plant's cylindrical storage tanks.

"Before the War, this plant supplied power to all of Nuka-World. Those two were reactor pressure buffer tanks," the Scribe explained.

"They were used to store reactor coolant. Once the tanks ruptured, all that radioactive wastewater poured into the basin. That's what turned the whole area into a radiation zone."

That answered Preston's question.

He lowered his binoculars and turned toward the rooftop entrance.

Before going downstairs, he glanced back at Josie and Emma. Both were standing at the edge of the platform with their helmets off, silently gazing down at the amusement park below.

Josie wore a light-blue Type 92 Powered Suit. Two white stars adorned her shoulder plate, and the number 01 was printed across her chest armor.

She was the captain of the Minutemen reconnaissance unit, though she had never taken the title particularly seriously.

Emma stood beside her in full T-51 Power Armor, her body visibly tense.

Over the past several months, she had spent nearly every spare moment inside the VR simulation training pods, repeatedly running simulations across different terrain and combat scenarios to sharpen her tactics and handling.

Now, faced with an entirely unfamiliar region, her palms were beginning to sweat.

The expressions on their faces were remarkably alike. Excitement and anticipation were there, but so were caution and tension.

Preston left them alone. He pushed open the steel door and headed down the stairs into the power plant.

The inside of the building was in far better condition than its exterior suggested.

The concrete load-bearing walls showed no obvious cracks, and the steel framework had suffered no serious deformation.

The air smelled of dust and rusted metal.

Preston followed the corridor for roughly fifty meters, passed through a half-open fire door, and entered the main control room.

The scouts who had arrived ahead of him were clearing the area. Four or five shriveled feral ghoul corpses lay sprawled across the floor.

The scout leading the team immediately approached when he saw Preston and reported in a low voice.

"Sir, the main plant has been fully cleared. We found more than thirty feral ghouls in total, including two glowing ones. All eliminated."

"Casualties?"

"None."

Preston's expression eased slightly.

"Perimeter checked?"

"Yes. The outer walls are mostly intact, and all the major entrances and exits can be sealed. This is also the highest point in Nuka-World, so we have a clear view of the surrounding area. Easy to defend, hard to assault."

"Anything else?"

"Yes."

The scout stepped aside and pointed toward a chair in the corner.

"We caught someone alive while clearing the basement."

A man sat tied to the chair with his hands bound behind his back. He wore a filthy, tattered black leather jacket bearing a faded heart-shaped gang emblem.

"He says he's with the Operators."

Preston's eyebrow twitched.

The Operators.

He remembered the intelligence Jace had given him before they left.

The Operators were one of the three major gangs in Nuka-World.

Their leader was Mags Black, with her younger brother William Black serving as second-in-command.

The two had come from the wealthy Upper Stands of Diamond City. After being expelled, they had gone on to found the Operators.

Unlike most bloodthirsty raiders, these people were calculating and driven by profit. They didn't indulge in pointless slaughter.

Preston came to a simple conclusion.

These raiders were basically the Commonwealth's Gunners.

That only made them more deserving of death.

He walked up to the prisoner.

"Name."

The raider swallowed.

"John."

An obvious alias. Preston didn't even bother committing it to memory.

"Why are you here?"

The raider's eyes darted around as he tried to work out what answer would serve him best.

Preston gave him no chance to invent a story. He simply stood up.

"Take him away. Beat it out of him."

"Roger that."

Two scouts immediately stepped forward and dragged the man to his feet. He struggled desperately, but there was no chance of breaking free.

He shouted in panic.

"I'll tell you everything! Will you let me live?!"

Preston didn't even look back.

"I can make sure you die quickly."

After leaving the control room, Preston encountered Josie and Emma in the corridor as they came down the stairs.

Josie was still clutching the crumpled park map, with Emma following behind her. Both had the unmistakable excitement of people entering unexplored territory for the first time.

The moment they saw Preston, they composed themselves and straightened up.

"Sir."

Preston went straight to business.

"Josie, take a few people and scout the surrounding terrain and enemy positions."

"Roger that!" Josie answered immediately, already turning to leave.

"Wait."

Preston stopped her, pulled a key from his pocket, and tossed it over.

Josie caught it instinctively. The moment she looked down, she froze.

A voice controller hung from the key ring.

It was the key to a hoverbike.

"Isn't this the one the General rides?"

"Not the same model. This one's been specially modified," Preston explained.

"The General specifically assigned it to the reconnaissance squad. It has a cloaking force field and significantly improved noise suppression, so it's designed for stealth reconnaissance."

Josie's eyes immediately lit up.

Several scouts behind her crowded closer at once, their gazes locked firmly on the key in her hand.

"There's only one, though. You'll have to work out the rotation yourselves."

"Where's the bike?" Josie asked eagerly.

"Open ground outside the plant."

Josie tightened her grip on the key and headed for the stairs.

After two steps, however, she noticed there were far more footsteps behind her than expected.

She looked back.

Every single scout was following her.

"...Why are all of you coming? I can handle the reconnaissance mission by myself."

No one answered.

They simply stared at her.

Or, more accurately, at the key in her hand.

Josie finally gave in.

"Fine. One day each, we'll rotate. I go first."

The scouts exchanged resigned looks but had no choice except to obey.

Outside the plant, a dirt-yellow hoverbike sat parked in the open.

Compared with Jace's sharply angular model, this one had a smoother, more rounded frame.

Its most striking feature was a custom slot mounted in the center of the chassis, housing a device that gave off a faint blue glow.

It was the core generator for the cloaking force field.

Josie walked over and ran her hand across the refurbished leather seat.

The material felt good.

It was definitely going to be comfortable.

She swung a leg over the bike, inserted the key, and started the engine.

There was no piercing roar. Instead, the engine produced only a low, muffled rumble. The noise reduction was more than twice as effective as the previous generation.

Josie gripped the handlebars, feeling the faint vibration beneath her, and couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face.

She released the clutch and twisted the throttle.

The hoverbike shot forward, tore down the plant's access slope, and raced toward the depths of the basin. Within moments, it had become little more than a blur in the distance.

The scouts left behind watched her disappear.

After two seconds of silence, the complaints began.

"...I bet we won't even get a turn by the day after tomorrow."

"Relax. She might still be hogging it next week."

...

At the same time, on the edge of the Glowing Sea in the Commonwealth, Danse stood on a broad stretch of charred black earth.

The power armor he wore was unlike any standard model.

Its design was straight-edged and rugged, with armor plates cut almost entirely at right angles. There were no unnecessary curves or decorative flourishes, giving it a stark industrial appearance.

The twin filter canisters mounted symmetrically on either side of the helmet were especially distinctive.

A prototype of Pittsburgh Union power armor, nicknamed ‘Union power armor.’

Zeke had gathered nearly every engineer available from both the Minutemen and Goodneighbor.

They dismantled the Hellfire power armor captured from the Enclave and sacrificed two power armor frames to performance testing.

Only then had they finally managed to recreate the suit from the incomplete blueprints that remained.

The original design had been created by the Pittsburgh Union for heavily contaminated industrial environments, with durability and reliability as its main priorities.

But Pittsburgh had lacked resources, especially lead, which left the original Union power armor with poor radiation protection.

The Commonwealth had no such shortage.

The suit Danse now wore had been fitted with a much thicker layer of lead shielding, along with a completely upgraded filtration system. Its radiation resistance had been pushed as far as possible.

That was precisely why Jace had lent the armor to Danse.

Danse flexed the fingers of his right hand.

The power armor's hydraulic system responded immediately, moving smoothly without the slightest delay or hesitation.

Its performance exceeded his expectations.

Ahead of him, the Glowing Sea stretched out in its full, horrifying expanse.

The land had been devastated again and again by nuclear strikes, leaving behind a scene so oppressive it was almost suffocating.

The sky was a murky yellow-green. There were no clouds, only radioactive dust suspended in the air.

The ground was black, scorched, and hardened, scarred by enormous craters and intersecting ravines. Pools of faintly glowing radioactive water collected in the lowlands.

A sharp chemical stench hung in the air.

Even through the power armor's dual-layer filtration system, Danse could still faintly smell it.

Behind him stood four Brotherhood of Steel Knights, each clad in a modified set of T-60 Power Armor.

Their armor had also been upgraded by the Minutemen, fitted with thicker lead shielding and entirely new high-efficiency filtration systems specifically designed for the Glowing Sea's extreme environment.

The four Knights stood rigidly upright, weapons held tight, their visors fixed on the death zone ahead.

The land itself seemed to carry a suffocating weight that made people instinctively hold their breath and keep silent.

The Glowing Sea was utterly lifeless.

There wasn't even any wind.

Only a continuous low hum could be heard somewhere in the distance.

Danse tightened his grip on his plasma rifle and advanced with steady, deliberate steps, each footfall firm against the ruined earth.

The four Knights moved after him in unison.

No order was given.

No one needed one.

They simply stayed together, keeping close formation as they advanced.

Danse didn't know whether he would actually find Virgil.

He didn't know whether Virgil would cooperate even if they did.

And he was even less certain whether this expedition deep into the Glowing Sea would provide anything useful for their eventual assault on the Institute.

But there was one thing he knew with absolute certainty.

He needed something to do.

He needed to keep moving forward.

The group continued deeper into the Glowing Sea, their figures gradually disappearing into the radioactive haze.