Fallout - Chapter 125: Crater of Atom (Patreon)

Danse led the squad onward for nearly another two hours.

The closer they came to the center of the Glowing Sea, the worse the environment became.

The charred, hardened ground beneath their feet grew increasingly brittle and thin. In some places, cracks had opened across the surface, with an eerie green glow shining through from below, as though the earth's skin had been torn open to expose radioactive veins underneath.

The concentration of yellow-green haze in the air rose sharply. Anything in the distance vanished completely into the murky green fog, as though the entire world had been swallowed into the stomach of some colossal beast.

The radiation readings detected by their power armor were already four times higher than when they had first entered the Glowing Sea.

Then Danse stopped.

Standing at the top of a gentle slope, he peered through the yellow-green haze and saw an enormous, perfectly circular depression.

A crater at least two hundred meters across and more than thirty meters deep.

This was the scar left by the strategic nuclear warhead that had struck the Commonwealth.

The rim of the crater consisted of vitrified rock fused by extreme heat. At the instant of detonation, surface rock and soil had melted under temperatures of several thousand degrees, been forced outward by the shockwave, and then cooled into a raised ring with a smooth, glassy surface.

Two hundred years later, the vitrified layer still hadn't completely weathered away. It reflected an eerie dark-green sheen through the radioactive haze, like the teeth of some ancient beast surrounding an abyss.

Danse walked to the edge and looked down.

The bottom of the crater, which should have been a dead zone completely scorched clean by nuclear fire, was dotted with flickering lights.

There were buildings.

Not ruins.

Inhabited buildings.

From the crater rim, the settlement below had a crude but unmistakable order to it. Makeshift shacks built from scrap metal, wooden planks, and pieces of aircraft wreckage were scattered everywhere.

At the very center stood a metal structure at least three times larger than the surrounding huts. Its frame had been welded together from several thick steel beams, while its exterior was covered in heavy aluminum skin apparently stripped from some aircraft.

The structure had been built directly over a bubbling pool of irradiated water.

Even from this distance, Danse could see the greasy fluorescent-yellow glow shimmering across the surface.

That was the central prayer area.

Around the main structure, more than a dozen smaller wooden huts were scattered across the crater floor. Some had rags hanging over their entrances as curtains. Others had incomprehensible symbols painted across their walls. A few had small wooden racks outside displaying cans and bottles of water, like crude barter stalls.

And between the shacks and huts, people were moving.

Danse could see them.

There were several dozen, though the haze was too thick to count precisely. They moved slowly along the muddy paths at the bottom of the crater, completely at ease, as though they were simply out for a stroll.

Some crouched outside their homes, polishing objects in their hands.

Others stood at the entrance to the central structure with their palms open, heads lowered, lips moving in prayer.

Danse narrowed his eyes slightly.

Their clothing gave them away.

Every one of them wore a coarse robe covered in patches. Hanging from each person's chest was a metal colander, the kind of stainless-steel kitchen utensil that had once been common before the War.

The Children of Atom.

Danse had read about them in the Brotherhood of Steel archives.

The faith had originated in Megaton, in the Capital Wasteland.

When the Great War began, a group of refugees took shelter in a crater east of Springvale, where an unexploded nuclear bomb had come to rest.

Instead of fearing it or fleeing, those refugees began worshipping the dormant bomb at the center of the crater.

They regarded it as an embodiment of Atom.

After settling around the crater, those fanatical believers helped other refugees construct walls and clear away debris, laying the foundations for what would eventually become Megaton.

Their holy relic appeared completely harmless, after all. It was a dud nuclear bomb that had failed to detonate for two hundred years.

Combined with the Children of Atom's considerable contribution to Megaton's construction, the townspeople tolerated their presence and allowed them to remain as permanent residents.

By the mid-2250s, the Children of Atom had become influential enough to preach their beliefs to every traveler who entered Megaton.

One young man named Cromwell was deeply influenced by those teachings. He became a devoted believer in Atom and eventually inherited the position of Confessor.

Under Confessor Cromwell's leadership, sometime between the late 2250s and early 2270s, a group of Children of Atom departed Megaton on a pilgrimage north.

Their goal was to spread the glory of Atom to more distant lands.

The pilgrims eventually split apart near the border between the Commonwealth and the Island.

One group, led by a woman named Isolde, traveled deep into the Commonwealth's most dangerous irradiated region and eventually settled here, in this crater at the heart of the Glowing Sea.

By 2277, the forty-four-year-old Confessor Cromwell was still spreading his teachings.

As generations passed, however, some radical Children of Atom began adding radioactive dust to their drinking water as a way of practicing their faith.

In Washington, D.C., where clean water was scarce, deliberately contaminating drinking water was an extremely serious offense.

As a result, most of Megaton's residents came to see Confessor Cromwell as an eccentric, and attendance at the town's more moderate church steadily declined.

Danse noticed something else.

These people were healthy.

They were standing almost completely exposed in the Glowing Sea, wearing nothing but ragged coarse-cloth robes. No radiation protection. Not even proper clothing.

In a place where radiation levels were high enough to kill an ordinary human within minutes, most of them still had hair.

The only visible abnormality was in their eyes.

The whites were slightly red.

But in the wasteland, mildly bloodshot eyes barely counted as a problem. A common cold was more dangerous than that.

Danse drew a slow breath.

These were definitely not ordinary people.

He remembered what Jace had told them back at the base before the mission.

Jace's expression had been unusually serious.

"Danse. You're going into the Glowing Sea to find Virgil. You'll pass through Children of Atom territory on the way. Don't fight them. Don't insult them. No matter what happens, leave first. We can deal with it when you get back."

"Why?"

"Because the things they believe in might actually be real."

Danse lowered his binoculars.

"Everyone, listen up."

He turned toward the other Knights, his voice coming through the external speaker, steady and serious.

"We're about to enter a Children of Atom settlement. Put away every weapon you have. Rifles, pistols, grenades, knives. Everything. Understood?"

The others exchanged confused looks.

Put away their weapons?

Here?

Deep inside the Glowing Sea, while approaching a settlement full of Atom's followers?

"This is so we can make it back alive."

The Knights hesitated for a moment, but none of them questioned his order.

Danse slung his plasma rifle across his back.

"Move."

They began descending along the inner wall of the crater.

Although the wall was made of smooth vitrified rock, someone had clearly carved footholds into it. Rows of depressions had been cut into the surface like steps.

Their edges had been worn smooth and polished by countless feet, proof that the path had been in use for a very long time.

Danse descended carefully, placing each foot firmly into the carved steps.

By the time they reached the crater floor, the huts were close enough to touch.

For the first time, he saw the Children of Atom up close.

They were surprisingly calm.

An old man sat on a stone outside one of the huts, needle and thread in hand, sewing a hole in a gray robe.

His movements were slow and focused.

There was something deeply peaceful about the way he immersed himself in such an ordinary task, a striking contrast to the lethal radiation surrounding him.

A woman crouched beside one of the irradiated pools, dipping a metal bucket into the glowing yellow water before carrying it back toward her home.

Two children, perhaps seven or eight years old, chased each other through the open space between the huts.

Their laughter echoed around the bowl-shaped crater, bouncing from the glassy walls and returning with a faint reverberation that made the sound feel strangely unreal.

The residents noticed Danse's group as well.

The old man mending his robe looked up at them.

No panic.

No suspicion.

He simply gave them a calm glance, lowered his head, and went back to sewing.

The woman carrying water stopped and turned toward the strangers in power armor.

Her gaze lingered on the metal suits for a few seconds.

Then she gave them a small nod, almost like a greeting.

The children came closer.

They excitedly circled the towering armored figures several times, eyes shining with curiosity.

One child reached out and touched the shin plate of a Knight's armor.

"Wow."

Friendly.

They were extremely friendly.

Danse frowned beneath his visor.

That friendliness sent a chill down his spine.

He began noticing other details.

Their gray and brown robes might have been old and heavily patched, but every one of them was clean.

The robes all shared the same cut.

Their sizes differed, but the style was identical.

And the metal colanders weren't random pieces of junk.

Each one had been carefully polished.

Even the wire used to secure them followed the same pattern. One strand ran from the left shoulder to the right hip, another from the right shoulder to the left hip, crossing over the chest in an X.

Every believer wore it exactly the same way.

No exceptions.

This was an organized, disciplined religious community united by a common faith.

As Danse studied them, someone stepped out from the crowd.

A woman.

She approached from the direction of the central structure, walking slowly and steadily.

As she passed, the surrounding believers lowered their heads slightly.

Not out of fear.

Out of respect.

It was the natural, heartfelt deference shown toward a respected elder.

Mother Isolde.

Danse's first impression was that she was thin.

Very thin.

Short gray hair hung untidily around her ears, its ends tinged with the dull yellow of long-term exposure to radiation.

Her face was gaunt, with high cheekbones and a sharply defined jaw.

It was the kind of lean, weathered appearance that came from surviving year after year in the wasteland.

Then Danse noticed her skin.

Pale.

No radiation burns.

No sores.

No mutations.

None of the skin lesions common among wastelanders.

Her skin was in better condition than that of almost anyone Danse had ever seen in the wasteland.

The whites of her eyes were slightly red, just like the other believers, but her gaze was clear and deep, carrying a quiet solemnity.

She stood barefoot in mud glowing faintly green, ash and tiny grains of sand clinging between her toes.

She wore no protective equipment.

No gloves.

No mask.

Her bare hands rested at her sides, fingers long and clean, nails neatly trimmed.

She carried no weapon.

At the center of the Glowing Sea.

At the bottom of a nuclear crater.

Barefoot.

Unarmed.

She stopped roughly three meters from Danse.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried with astonishing clarity.

The bowl-shaped crater gathered and amplified the sound, making every word seem to reach directly into the listener's ears.

"You have set foot upon the sacred ground of Atom."

Her tone was calm and solemn, like someone reciting an ancient scripture.

"Why have you come? State your purpose, or face Division beneath His gaze."

Division.

Danse knew what that word meant within the faith of the Children of Atom.

Destruction and rebirth.

The only path to Atom's paradise.

To an ordinary person, however, her words were an unmistakable threat.

Danse took a deep breath.

Jace had warned him.

When faced with forces you couldn't understand, don't try to fight them.

Don't try to explain them.

And don't pretend you're smarter than they are.

Danse removed his helmet.

The neck seal of his Union power armor released with a hiss of escaping pressure.

His face was exposed to the radioactive haze of the Glowing Sea.

The sharp smell of sulfur and metal immediately filled his nose.

He could feel invisible radioactive dust settling against his skin, creating a faint, strange sensation like fine sandpaper brushing across his face.

But he didn't flinch.

He let Mother Isolde see his face.

His voice was low and respectful.

"We're looking for someone. A man named Virgil."

Mother Isolde's expression changed slightly.

Her voice softened.

"Ah... the deserter hiding in the cave."

She paused, choosing her words.

"He's nearby. But I would advise you not to approach him. His very existence is an affront to Atom."

Danse's brow shifted slightly.

He didn't ask why Virgil's existence was blasphemous.

He didn't want to know any more about Children of Atom doctrine than he absolutely needed to.

He only wanted to find Virgil and get out of this radioactive hell alive.

"However..."

Mother Isolde's tone softened further.

"If you insist on going, I can tell you the way."

She raised one hand and pointed toward a collapsed section along the western edge of the crater.

"Follow the collapsed trench from here. After roughly two kilometers, you'll find the entrance to a cave. That's where he's hiding."

She lowered her hand.

"He has traps inside the passage. Be careful."

Danse nodded.

"Thank you."

He put his helmet back on, turned toward the squad, and signaled the Knights to move out.

Danse wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

The suffocating radiation concentrated inside the crater, along with the barefoot woman standing calmly in radioactive mud, told him the same thing.

This was not a place where he should linger.

He had taken only a few steps when Mother Isolde spoke behind him.

"Wait."

Her tone had changed.

It was suddenly sharp and alert.

Danse stopped.

He didn't turn around, but he could feel the atmosphere behind him change.

The friendly, curious attention of the believers had become wary.

"Have you recently..."

Mother Isolde spoke slowly and carefully, weighing each word.

"...come into contact with something dug from underground? Something that looks like obsidian?"

Danse's entire body went rigid.

Something dug from underground.

Something resembling obsidian.

An image flashed through his mind.

A ritual knife.

Kremvh's Tooth.

Danse slowly turned around.

Mother Isolde was staring directly at him.

Her slightly reddened eyes had become razor-sharp.

There was a reason she was so sensitive to that presence.

Last year, during the winter of 2286, snow had fallen across the Commonwealth, a rare sight.

A man named Adam Whately had emerged from the depths of the Glowing Sea riding an enormous mutated centipede fifteen meters long, leading a band of fanatical followers.

They launched a holy war across the Commonwealth known as the Winter of Atom.

It was the background of the official Fallout: The Roleplaying Game expansion, Winter of Atom.

Adam had originally been an ordinary resident of the Capital Wasteland.

In Megaton, he studied the teachings of the Children of Atom under Confessor Cromwell.

On the very night he embraced the faith, he dreamed of a "Buried City."

After leaving Megaton, Adam gathered followers of his own and proclaimed himself the "Last Son of Atom."

His methods of preaching were extraordinarily extreme.

Any settlement that refused to listen to his sermons was blasted apart with a Fat Man.

He was soon expelled and eventually made his way to the Glowing Sea, where he outwardly joined Mother Isolde's congregation.

But Adam's true goal wasn't faith.

It was power.

Adam Whately was a descendant of John Whately, a four-star general from pre-War America.

Ever since the Whately family arrived in the Americas aboard the Mayflower in 1620, generations of the family had worshipped a "sleeping god buried beneath Boston."

Following secrets passed down through his family, Adam discovered a hidden pre-War research facility deep within the Glowing Sea.

The Whately Research Facility.

It had been constructed under the supervision of his ancestor, General John Whately.

Far beneath the facility, Adam unearthed prehistoric ruins far older and more advanced than human civilization.

Countless obsidian obelisks stood within them.

There, he activated an enormous crystal device known as the Atom's Glow.

The device generated an energy field capable of inducing hallucinations and exerting mental control over nearby living creatures.

Adam integrated a fragment of the crystal device into the chest of his power armor and gained the ability to control minds.

Using that power, he took control of a massive mutated centipede living within the Buried City.

Gigapede.

The creature measured between fifteen and twenty meters long. It could overturn small buildings, spit powerful acid, and burrow underground to launch surprise attacks.

Last winter, Adam rode Gigapede out of the Glowing Sea.

His goal was to allow Atom to be reborn within his body and purge every unbeliever.

In the end, the Minutemen gathered their forces and defeated Adam and Gigapede after a brutal battle, bringing the disaster to an end.

But the victory came at a terrible cost.

After Adam had been expelled, Mother Isolde sent her daughter, Dawn, to keep watch over him.

Adam discovered Dawn's identity.

To punish Mother Isolde, he didn't kill her.

Instead, he used a specialized FEV culture tank inside the research facility to forcibly transform Dawn into an enormous ghoul, a deliberate and malicious mockery of Isolde.

From that moment onward, Mother Isolde became exceptionally sensitive to the presence that clung to Adam Whately.

The presence of something resonating with an ancient, sleeping entity.

And the ghost of Tim Shoots in Dunwich Borers had greatly amplified the power of Kremvh's Tooth.

That had left the same presence clinging to Danse.

Danse stood motionless.

He said nothing.

But the atmosphere inside the crater had already changed.

The believers who had been standing peacefully outside their huts were moving now.

Quickly.

Methodically.

Some drew gamma guns from beneath their robes, weapons designed specifically to inflict radiation damage.

Others pulled radium rifles from the corners of the shacks, rifles capable of delivering high doses of radiation along with conventional ballistic damage.

Two believers even struggled to carry a pair of Fat Man launchers out of a storage building and aimed them at Danse's squad.

Adam had only died the previous year.

The wounds he'd left behind were still fresh.

The Knights behind Danse reacted immediately.

Their laser rifles rose from a lowered position to level aim.

Fingers settled against trigger guards.

Infrared aiming points flickered through the haze.

The air at the bottom of the crater seemed to freeze.

Even the bubbling pool of radioactive water appeared to hold its breath.