Nora found herself confronting a pretty young woman, black hair in a bob cut, green eyes, wearing a white blouse and a ratty skirt. The woman had been wounded in the left shoulder, the blouse soaked in blood. A Mac 11 machine pistol was held in her right hand, pointed at the floor.

 

“Never expected a Vault dweller,” said the girl in a heavy Boston accent. "Looks like something gave you a good love bite on the leg.”

 

“One of those big rat things got me at the Red Rocket up the road.”

 

“Mole rats, huh. Nasty little critters. I got mine from these nasty big critters you helped me to take out.”

 

“What are you?” said Nora, taking a seat on a couch.

 

“I’m a Scaver,” said the woman, looking confused for a moment. “You know, someone who searches the Wasteland for scrap to sell to one of the traders. Make a decent living at it, and it lets me see a lot of places. If only the damned Raiders weren’t such a bane to my existence.”

 

“I hate the bastards,” said Nora with a scowl. “A group of them raped me yesterday. I’m still sore, and the thought of what they did.” Nora shuddered, remembering the cruel touch of men who meant her harm. Using her for a sperm receptacle and nothing more.

 

“Been raped a few times myself,” said the woman. “Sold into slavery once and made a sex slave. Until I killed the bastard and escaped. But you said yesterday. So what happened afterwards? You know, after they had…”

 

“You mean after they had fucked the hell out of me? I killed the five of them in their sleep,” said Nora with a cruel smile.

 

“I’m Barb, by the way. What are you doing in Concord?”

 

“I just came out of Vault one eleven. Only survivor, and I’m trying to track the people who stole my baby.”

 

“You born there?” asked Barb, wiping blood away from her almost totally healed wound.

 

“In the Vault? Nope. I was born in Boston, and went into the Vault just before the bombs dropped. Actually saw the big bastard that hit southwest of the city.”

 

“But, that would make you over two hundred years old. How’s that possible? You don’t look like a ghoul.”

 

Nora ignored that last part. She could ask later what the girl was talking about. Right now she had a captive audience, and much to get off her chest.

 

“Vault Tech put us in cryo as soon as we entered the Vault. So even though I’m technically over two hundred, I’m thinking that I’m actually twenty-nine, my age when I went in. And it was all a trick. We were their Guinee pigs for an experiment they were running. Now, how about you tell me how you healed that gunshot wound so fast.”

 

“Stimpack,” said Barb, tossing a small injector to Nora. “Developed just after the bombs fell I think. Don’t ask me how it works. I only know that it does, and would heal you of any non-fatal wound very rapidly. Though it leaves you with a ravenous hunger and a terrible thirst. Try it.”

 

The bite was beginning to ache, and she was sure that infection was setting in. With nothing to lose she shot the injector into her arm, and felt a soothing wave pass through her. The bite closed rapidly, going from an angry red wound to fully healed flesh in less than a couple of minutes. And with it, as advertised, came the ravenous hunger and a throat parching thirst. Nora hastily swallowed a can of water, then wolfed down some food followed by another can of water. She ran her fingers over the small scar that was left. If that’s all that remained of the bite, she would take it.

 

“I need to get back to Sanctuary. You can come with if you want.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” agreed Barb after a moments thought. “You’re pretty good with that rifle, and it’s been some time since I had someone watch my back. And frankly, you need someone to teach you how to maneuver the Wasteland. Because if you don’t watch it, the Wasteland will chew you right up and spit you out.”

 

The robots had been hard at work in her absence, and four more of the collapsed houses were gone, neat piles of materials stacked nearby the foundations. The house she was using as a headquarters had been worked on, the roof fixed, the holes in the walls patched, all of the trash removed. As well as her own house. Everything had been disassembled save Shaun’s crib. While not of any use at the moment, she refused to destroy the one thing of his that she still had. They unloaded what they brought with them, all of the clothing and armor from the Raiders, as well as their weapons and all the junk they could gather.

 

“Codsworth,” she said as she approached the robot that was fixing her and her guest dinner. “How are you at sewing?”

 

“I can do it, if that is what you are asking, mum. If you can get me the proper programs I can make whatever you want.”

 

She hacked into the robot and downloaded the programs she wanted into his memory, setting him up with spools of nylon thread and all of Nate’s old combat uniforms. What she wanted was two sets of combat clothing, camouflaged and reinforced with a good layer of ballistic weave. As well as some steel soled combat boots. The other Mr. Handy was set to making things she thought necessary, electronics and a good water purifier.

 

“Wow, you lucked out with the robots,” said Barb, watching as Codsworth measured her for clothing. “It’s going to be nice to have some real protection out there.”

 

“Don’t let it go to your head. It doesn’t make you a tank.”

 

“What’s a tank?”

 

After dinner Nora insisted on bathing Barb. The girl was as dirty as the Raiders, not surprising when she had to live off the land without safe and secure bathing facilities. Nora ran a wet cloth over the skin of the other woman, paying particular attention to the hard to reach places where dirt accumulated. She wasn’t sure if she meant to, but soon she had Barb moaning as she worked around her sex. She kissed the woman, not sure of the response but willing to take a risk. Barb was responsive, and after they both dried off she took her new companion to bed.

 

Nora had always preferred men, but she had loved women in the past. After being raped she really wanted nothing to do with men, at least for the moment. Barb expressed similar sentiments. After working each other over with hands and mouths the couple slipped into a sixty-nine, Barb’s genitals over her face while the other buried hers into Nora’s groin. Soon they were both moaning their pleasure, and the orgasms started to come.

 

The labia above her face were quivering as the sweet juices of the young woman dripped into her mouth. Nora fluttered her tongue over Barb’s clit, then grabbed her thighs and hung on as the younger woman went into a rapid series of orgasms. Nora was rapid firing herself, crying out her pleasure into the pussy of her partner, setting up a chain that had them both climbing higher, until they both couldn’t take any more and collapsed on the bed.

 

“Wow,” said Barb, laying on her back and breathing hard, her c cup breasts rising and falling on her chest. “Where in the hell did you learn to play a woman like that?”

 

“I used to dance in clubs,” said Nora, her hand playing gently with Barb’s tits, getting a rush from the responses of her partner. “There was sex involved, both on stage and in private rooms. And then I made porn. Add to that the fact that I had always loved sex, men and woman, and I got pretty good at it.”

 

“More than pretty good,” said Barb, letting out another sigh. “I haven’t had so many orgasms in.. Well, I probably never had that many orgasms. You can use me for your pleasure, and mine, any time you want.”

 

The woman was silent for some moments, thinking, and Nora let her have her space. “You know, if you feel like performing on stage again, there are several clubs in the Commonwealth.”

 

Nora noted again the use of the Term Commonwealth. Never Massachusetts, or Boston. Just Commonwealth, a term that had been catching on just before the war.

 

“What kind of venues are these?”

 

“Well, all kinds, from upscale clubs to Raider dives. And they offer to put you on display in whatever way you want. Dance, strip, have sex with one or multiple partners. Hell, I’ve done it myself when I was low on caps. Would do it again if I had someone watching out for me. You know, so I don’t get drugged and such.”

 

The idea excited the exhibitionist in Nora. She might be sour on men now, but the thrill of doing it in public, while making some money, was quite the enticement. And then there was the whole bottle cap thing. Nuka Cola caps were said to be the currency of choice from here to California. She had gathered quite the stash of prewar money, almost a hundred thousand of it. Now, as far as she knew, useless.

 

“Oh no. It’s still worth something. There are traders, and people on the Black Market, who will exchange bills for caps. Normally at four to one. Some organizations still use the old money, but they operate from the shadows.”

 

Nora had a mostly dreamless sleep that night, the pleasure putting her into the state of mind that rejected the horrors of her subconscious. It had been a good day. She had found a dog, and partner to watch her back, and a regular lover. So far she had everything she needed, and as soon as the robots finished the water pumps, tanks and filtration equipment she would have showers. Cold at first, but she had the power to run a water heater. A fridge was next on the list, and as long as she had the resources the sky were the limit.

 

Codsworth made an armored vest for the dog, with ballistic weave, light ceramic plates and a number of pouches to allow the dog to carry loot. Another set, with less armor and more pouches, was constructed for whichever dogbot she wanted to take along. She herself worked on making pieces of metal armor for their arms, legs and torsos, with backing of ballistic weave. The same with the helmets.

 

She started working with Dogmeat the next day. She hated the name someone else had bestowed on the beautiful animal. But he responded to it, and didn’t to other names she attempted to put on him. The dog was smart as a whip, much brighter than anything she had run into before, and she started to wonder if he had been engineered somehow. Then left for her to find? After the rifle and some other items she wouldn’t have been too surprised, though it maddened her to think someone might be helping her for their own agenda.

 

Dogmeat quickly learned how to obey commands to charge, to stop, to hold enemies in place, even to charge forward at full speed and grab them by the balls or go for the throat. He wasn’t as deadly as the robodogs, but he was damned close, another indication that he might be more than a normal animal. She worked on hand signals, noting that the dog always seemed to have her in his field of vision. She could motion down and he would go to ground. Up, and he stood. She could wave him forward, to the side, point and whistle to select a target. He recognized guns, and better yet when they were pointed at him. And his sense of smell was so much better than that of the robodogs.

 

Codsworth ran every construction program she gave him, and soon they had canteens, portable filters, pouches to go on their web gear. And backpacks, the large kind that could expand to hold whatever was needed, including prime scrap to bring back to the settlement. She taped two sixty round magazines the other Handy made her so she would have enough at hand in a firefight, and more to put in the pouches. Barb preferred her fast firing Mac11, even though Nora would have liked her to carry a ranged weapon. She did accept more magazines, so they were set there.

 

The only thing that really worried Nora was the resupply of ammo. While there seemed to be a lot of it out in the wilds, they used it up fast. Ammo took primers and brass rounds, though steel could substitute. Some of the magazine she found taught her how to forge ammo with makeshift materials, and as soon as she learned she set the other Handy to cranking it out. Finding a rifle scope in a neighbor’s house went a long way to making her a more deadly long-range killer. Using the lessons her granddad had taught her she zeroed it in for a bullet strike at two hundred yards. Short than that and she could use the iron sights. The only thing she was really missing that she wanted was night vision.

 

“Weston has a lot of facilities across the Commonwealth,” had said Barb when asked about the company that had provided so many military peripherals. “The medical facility in Malden might be a good target. And we can check in on Heather while we’re over there.”

 

Barb had suggested the soft-spoken young lady who pitched her herbal medications over the air. Soft spoken, intelligent, and totally savage, according to her Scaver friend. And Barb swore by her remedies. So Nora resolved to make her way toward Malden when opportunity presented itself.

 

They spent most of the rest of the week exploring the woods to the south and east of the suburb. Hunting animals, taking their meat and hides. Barb was amazed at the proficiency of her new partner in moving quietly through the woods, sneaking into range of game and taking in down. The new suppressor she had fabbed on the workbench went a long way to keeping the animals calmed. Barb taught her about the game, radstags, mole rats, others. And some things to avoid, like the giant mutated bears called Yao Guai. One day they spotted a Death Claw at a distance, and Barb pulled Nora down behind some rocks, while Nora motioned the dogs down.

 

They waited for a tense hour for the monster to move. Nora was tempted to try and take it down, and when she told Barb later the woman gave her a shocked expression.

 

“You’ll get us both killed, new girl. We don’t have the weapons to take one down, and it will scatter our body parts all over the landscape.”

 

Barb showed her what plants she should harvest while out. Hubflower, Mutated Fern, Bloodleaf and many others. She promised to show Nora how to use the plants in making chems, something always needed out in the Wasteland.

 

“You’re quite the hunter,” said Barb as Nora took down another radstag from long-range. “You said you were a warrior before the war.”

 

“I flew jets,” said Nora, nodding her head. “And sometimes vertibirds.”

 

“Jets?”

“I flew missions to shoot down enemy planes, or to drop bombs on enemy soldiers that threatened our own. Not really a land warrior, except for the time I had to get through Chinese lines and back to my own.”

 

“Then where did you learn to hunt?”

 

“My granddad. A better parent than my parents. We were constantly in these woods over summers, some in the winter. Or in Vermont or New Hampshire.”

 

“What are those?” asked Barb, confused once again.

 

“Two other states. This used to be one country of fifty states from coast to coast. Before the war. Who won that thing, anyway?”

 

“Well, I can’t say anything for the other side, but from the looks of things it sure wasn’t us.”

 

Nora could agree with that sentiment. Still, the world had survived, though she was surprised that people hadn’t pulled themselves further out of the wreckage. Probably a lack of oversight from above, and a scarcity of scientists and engineers.

 

They made love again that night like every other. Stress relief Nora called it, though to be fair it was also pure pleasure and lust relief. The younger woman was a fast learner, and Nora found that she had a responsive and attentive lover on her hands. One that never turned her down. That concerned her a bit. Did Barb always say yes because she loved sex just as much as Nora? Or because she didn’t want to ruin the good thing she had stumbled upon? She would worry about that later. Now she was just going to enjoy the company of another gun and a competent lover.

 

“Tomorrow I want to have another look over Concord,” said Nora to her friend as they lay in bed.

 

“Well, we’re certainly better prepared,” said Barb, frowning. “Well enough prepared? I guess we’ll find out.”