Chapter Text
The vertibird docks at the Prydwen and the General of the Minutemen steps out. Elder Maxson was waiting for her.
"General. It is good to have you on board. There is something I'd like to ask of you, but I think it is best if we head inside." He said professionally.
The General, a woman with weathered features and eyes that held the weight of countless battles, nods curtly in response to Maxson's greeting. She follows him into the Prydwen, her gaze sweeping across the bustling interior.
"Elder," she says as they enter his private quarters, "I trust this isn't just a social call?" Her tone is direct and to the point.
"Not at all." He said, his voice polite and professional. "There have been rumors that there may be more to Vault 111 than just cryochambers." He trailed off looking out on the wastes, his hands clasped behind his back. He was not one to sugarcoat things. "Would you care to share more information on the vault?"
he General's eyebrows rise slightly, a flicker of interest crossing her face. "I thought I told you everything" She takes a seat across from Maxson, her posture straight and alert.
"It was supposed to be one of the most secure vaults in existence," she begins, her voice low and measured. "Designed to preserve its inhabitants for generations after the bombs fell." She pauses for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully.
"One of my Knights are from Vault 111." Maxson said, his voice flat. "It appears there was another survivor." he narrowed his eyes at her.
How much does the General know? Maxson wondered.
"I searched that vault thoroughly, Elder. There was not a living soul left except for myself." she continues with a sigh, "Perhaps your Knight is not providing you with accurate information about their past." Her gaze drifts towards the window overlooking the desolate landscape beyond Prydwen’s walls.
"Negative. We've sent the Knight through the memory lounger, everything checks out." He responded sharply.
"That's impossible. But- how?" She stated.
Maxson wondered how he could explain without giving too much away. "That's what I'd like to find out." he sighed. "It has come to the Brotherhood's attention that raiders are planning to infiltrate the vault, I simply wanted to know why they would think that there is anything of value." he stated.
The General's eyes narrow, a shadow of suspicion crossing her face.
"Raiders?" she repeats, her voice laced with disbelief. "Vault 111 is sealed tighter than Fort Hagen. How could they possibly infiltrate it?" She leans forward, studying Maxson intently.
"I know what you think," he says quietly, meeting her gaze directly. "But I assure you this information comes from reliable sources." He pauses for a moment before adding, "They believe there are valuable resources within the vault - something beyond simple supplies or technology."
He takes a deep breath and continues, “Something that could give them an edge in the wasteland.”
"And let me guess, you searched through your Knight's memories for any clues." She rolled her eyes. Of course the Knight had no choice in the matter.
"Correct." he stated. He didn't want to dwell too much on Jordan. "But it only got us so far." He tried not to betray his voice. He knew a lot more than he let on. He just wanted to know what the General knew, if she was aware of it.
Nora studied Maxson for a while. "You want me to open the vault." She stated.
"Perceptive, as always." Maxson nodded.
"My dead husband is in there, Arthur. My dead neighbors. I searched that place top to bottom for answers and found none. Vault 111 is a tomb that I would like to keep sealed in respect for the former life I knew." The general was not happy about the idea.
Maxson understands her hesitation, the pain etched on her face a testament to the loss she's endured. He nods slowly, his expression sympathetic.
"I understand your reluctance," he says softly. "But this is not about reopening old wounds or dredging up painful memories." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "It's about protecting what remains of civilization from those who would exploit it for their own gain."
He looked directly into her eyes. “If they gain access to whatever secrets lie within Vault 111... the consequences could be catastrophic.” His voice hardens with conviction. “We cannot allow that to happen.”
"There's nothing left in that vault." She said softly. The silence stretched between them. Maxson knew from Jordan's memories that Vault 111 is no ordinary vault. It would appear that Nora had no idea about the real experiments they were conducting.
The thought sent a shiver down Maxson's spine. "General, you may assist in our search if that would make you feel more at ease." he looked at her, almost pleading. "But we must get into that Vault."
Nora sighs, the weight of her decision heavy on her shoulders. She knows Maxson is right, something about this situation feels off, like a storm brewing beneath a calm surface. "Fine," she says finally, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hand as she reaches for a nearby cup of coffee. "But I'm not going to stand by and watch you desecrate my past. If there’s nothing left but dust and memories… then let it stay that way.”
"You have my word, General." Maxson stated firmly.
Something else piqued the General's interest. "What's your Knight's name? The one from Vault 111." She knew everyone in that vault, she double checked, triple checked, everyone was deceased.
Maxson inclines his head slightly, a hint of pride in his voice. "Her name is Valerie." He watches Nora's reaction carefully, noting the flicker of surprise that crosses her face.
"Valerie?" she repeats, her brow furrowed in thought. "That name... it rings a bell..." She pauses, searching her memory banks for any connection to the vault's inhabitants.
"I think I met her briefly. She was the new neighbor who moved in from abroad. She had a family, nothing out of the ordinary." she recalled.
"Oh?" Maxson asked curiously.
"Yes, she was an expatriate if I remember correctly. She worked in different countries. Her husband's company opened a branch in Boston and that prompted the move from Europe." She trailed off.
The more Maxson learned about Valerie, the more invested in her story he became. "Interesting." He trailed off. Maxson tried to move the conversation away from Valerie. He did not want the General to know sensitive Brotherhood information. He simply wanted her to open the vault.
"I will gather a team. We take off in 2 hours. Gather what you need, General." He was barking orders.
She scoffed. "Some things never change..." she muttered to herself.
Maxson scurried around, picking his team. Scribe Neriah, Proctor Quinlan, Paladin Brandis, and Proctor Teagan was gathered and they met up with the Minutemen in Sanctuary.
The Minutemen were not very fond of the Brotherhood and their ways, but they were allies and trusted their General's judgement.
The air crackled with tension as the Brotherhood contingent arrived at Sanctuary. Scribe Neriah, ever meticulous, adjusted her spectacles and scanned the assembled Minutemen with a critical eye. Proctor Quinlan stood ramrod straight, his face impassive. Paladin Brandis exuded an aura of quiet strength, while Proctor Teagan fidgeted with his weapon. The Minutemen, a motley crew of hardened survivors and idealistic volunteers, eyed the steel-clad figures with suspicion. Maxson's gaze swept over them all before settling on General Nora and Colonel Preston Garvey, who stood tall and resolute amidst their troops. The General's expression was unreadable - a mix of suspicion and determination etched upon her weathered features.
"General," Maxson began in a voice that brooked no argument, "we are here to proceed with our operation."
"Elder." The General said. "Let's not waste any more time."
The two parties made their way up to Vault 111 and stood around the entrance as Nora opened the vault door. A shiver ran down Nora’s spine. This place was more than just metal and concrete to her, it held echoes of lives lost and dreams shattered. The heavy vault door groaned open, revealing a scene of unsettling stillness. Dust motes danced in the pale beam of light filtering from Sanctuary's makeshift sunlamps. The air hung thick with the scent of decay and damp earth - a tomb's aroma that sent shivers down even Maxson’s spine.
Maxson stepped cautiously across the threshold, his gaze sweeping over the deserted hallway ahead. A sense of foreboding settled upon him like a shroud, this was no ordinary vault, not just an empty shell waiting to be reclaimed by nature. His eyes met Nora's for a fleeting moment. He saw her struggle to maintain composure, her face etched with pain and apprehension as she surveyed the vault before them.
"Let us proceed," he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the creaking metalwork echoing through the silent corridors. He gestured towards the vault's interior, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his plasma rifle. "And be vigilant."
The vault's interior was eerily silent, a tableau frozen in time. Dust-covered furniture lay askew, overturned tables and chairs scattered like fallen soldiers across the once-bustling common areas. Maxson felt a twinge of sadness at the sight. This wasn’t just an abandoned place, it was a graveyard of hopes and dreams, swallowed whole by whatever tragedy had befallen its inhabitants.
He motioned for his team to spread out, their footsteps echoing through the halls. They moved cautiously, scanning every corner for signs of life - or death - their weapons held ready should any unexpected threat emerge from the shadows.
"Nothing here," Quinlan reported after checking several rooms. "Just... remnants."
Brandis nodded grimly in agreement “It appears General Nora was right. It's a small vault, I don't see the room Knight Jordan was in.”
Maxson's gaze lingered on a child's drawing pinned to the wall of what appeared to be an apartment, its vibrant colors dulled by time and dust. A small figure holding hands with another, their faces beaming with joy. A knot tightened in his chest. This wasn’t just some abandoned facility, it was once a beacon of hope for new life, these people had dreams and aspirations just like anyone else. They were totally oblivious to what was going to happen to them.
"Keep searching," he ordered, "There must be something here."
The two parties searched the vault up and down and it seemed like they were getting nowhere. Maxson's frustration grew with each passing minute. He paced the dimly lit corridors, his mind racing with possibilities. Jordan's memories had been crystal clear - this was the vault, and within its walls lay the secrets they sought.
Maxson walked to the desk where an old skeleton was sat on a chair, he looked at the name tag and there it was, Dr. McClellan. This WAS the right vault. But where the hell is this secret facility? He searched the rest of the room and ended up at the cage where the cryolator were held, General Nora had already taken the weapon, he examined the cage and found that the weapon's display box panel is removable and that there is a working console asking for a code. A surge of adrenaline shot through Maxson's veins. The cryolator cage - a seemingly mundane detail in the otherwise desolate vault - held the key to unlocking this mystery.
"General!" he called out, his voice echoing through the hollow space. "I think I found something."
Nora made her way over with the rest of the crew, everyone was standing and waiting in anticipation.
“This panel is removable and there’s a working control panel here. and it seems to be locked by a code.” He pointed at it while examining the finer details. "We need to crack that code," he said urgently, his gaze sweeping over Nora's face for any hint of recognition or understanding. “And fast.”
The air crackled with a mixture of urgency and nervous energy as Neriah, Teagan, and Sturges huddled around the console. Their fingers flew across the keypad, each keystroke accompanied by a soft click that echoed through the vault's eerie silence.
Maxson watched intently, his gaze flitting between their focused faces and the cryptic display on the control panel. He knew time was of the essence, every second they spent here brought them closer to whatever lurked within those hidden depths. "Anything?" he asked quietly, his voice barely audible above the rhythmic tapping of keys.
Neriah shook her head slowly, “It’s heavily encrypted,” she said grimly, “and we haven’t found any obvious patterns.”
Sturges grunted in frustration, “Damn thing is tougher than an irradiated deathclaw!”
"Could you be any louder?" Proctor Teagan eyes Sturges.
Back in the Prydwen's interrogation room, Danse and Ingram tries to make sense of it all.
Danse watched Ingram hunched over the console, her brow furrowed in concentration. The rhythmic click-clack of keys echoed through the sterile interrogation room, a counterpoint to Jordan's soft snores emanating from the memory lounger across from him.
He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.
She was clearly exhausted.
"Anything?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that barely disturbed the tense silence.
Ingram shook her head, her gaze fixed on the console's display, “It’s like something is preventing us from accessing this memory,” she muttered, frustration lacing her tone. “This code is more complex than anything I’ve ever encountered.”
A voice came through the memory lounger display. "Suit 2.0 initializing."
Ingram and Danse sprinted to the display and saw a bunch of biotech patent documentation with Arcjet System's name written all over it.
"It's some kind of contingency regime built into the suit's deep layers. What the hell is that?" Ingram looked at the different diagrams and information, trying to make sense of it.
The suit's voice came on again "Rebooting core functions... Compiling profile... Processing."
Danse felt a chill crawl up his spine. This was beyond anything he'd ever encountered in his years with the Brotherhood. It reeked of secrets, of something far more sinister than they had initially imagined. He watched Ingram pore over the technical jargon displayed on the console, more focused than ever.
"What is it?" he asked urgently, unable to contain his growing unease. "What does this all mean?"
Ingram glanced up from her work, her eyes wide with alarm, “It’s… it’s like a failsafe,” she stammered, struggling to articulate what she was seeing. “But not just any failsafe – this thing seems designed for complete autonomy.”
She pointed at one particular diagram depicting a complex neural network interwoven with advanced robotics. “Look at this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s like this... thing is trying to create its own artificial intelligence.”
The memory lounger hummed softly as Jordan stirred in her sleep, a faint murmur escaping her lips.
"Alien tissue analysis complete. Nanoform profiling complete. Compatibility registration underway. Processing 80%." The voice on the monitor said.
"Alien tissue?" Ingram's eyes went wide. "The aliens Jordan was talking about... did Arcjet somehow got hold of a damn alien?" Ingram was confused.
Danse felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Alien tissue? This was beyond anything he could have imagined, even in the darkest corners of his mind. "But how?" He looked at Ingram, searching for answers in her face but finding only confusion and growing fear reflected back at him.
The memory lounger whirred as Jordan mumbled something incoherent in her sleep. Ingram shook her head, unable to reconcile this new information with what they already knew about Jordan and Arcjet Systems.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered, staring intently at the console screen as if it held all the answers to their predicament. “Arcjet was supposed to be developing advanced robotics and biotech – not… alien technology.”
The voice on the monitor continued its chilling monologue: "Compatibility registration complete. Initiating integration protocol."
Danse felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. This was no longer just about finding out what Jordan knew, it was about preventing something catastrophic from happening, something that could potentially threaten not only their lives but the entire Commonwealth. "Radio the Elder, NOW" Danse said.
Ingram didn't hesitate. She slammed her fist down on the console, activating a hidden comm panel. "Elder Maxson," she barked into the microphone, her voice tight with urgency. "We have a situation here that requires immediate attention."
Danse watched anxiously as Ingram relayed what they had discovered. He knew this information was too sensitive to be shared casually, it needed to reach Maxson directly and without delay.
The air crackled with static for a moment before Maxson’s gruff voice filled the room. “What is it, Ingram? Speak plainly.”