After a nice long nap, I started getting ready for the trip to Vault 81. The vault was buried under what was once the campus of Boston College. Of course, the college had been gone for years before the war, but a lot of the excavation work for the vault happened when they tore down the last remnant of the school - the old Alumni Stadium. The original plan had been to turn the whole campus into a state park, but Vault-Tec dollars quickly drowned out the opinions of local conservationists. Apparently it was a good investment on Vault-Tec's part, since the facility not only survived the war but when on to become an important player in the local economy.

 

Before I left Diamond City, however, I had a few matters to attend to. First, my ribs were aching worse than ever. Rather than keep self-medicating, I headed down to the self-proclaimed 'mega surgical center' - a wooden shack that looked about one stiff breeze away from falling over - for some medical attention. Doctor (probably "doctor") Sun waved me in and gave me a quick examination while another patient sat and watched from his 'waiting room.' Clearly the concept of privacy in medicine had eroded a bit since my time. Piper later explained to me that it was intentional: if people could see him doing his work, they could see that he actually knew what he was doing... and there were far too many quacks in the Commonwealth for someone to trust someone to do medicine just because the called themself 'doctor.'

 

 

"Hmm, you look fine... uh, wait. Yes, I see now. That needs to be fixed."

 

I grimaced as he checked my injured rib. "I took a few bad hits last time I was out."

 

"I can see that," Sun said. "You should try getting shot less frequency. Or, if that's too much to ask, invest in some better body armor. Gunshot wounds to the chest are no laughing matter."

 

"Hey, this suit's bulletproof you know."

 

Sun seemed unimpressed. "I already figured that out from the fact that you don't have a hole in your side... and out the other, for that matter. But you obviously know as well as I do that stopping the bullet isn't the same as stopping the kinetic energy. You need some rigid combat armor - and not that cheap steel crap they sell down in the marketplace, real pre-war ballistic plate - if you want to shrug off bullets and not wake up feeling it the next morning."

 

"Got any suggestions on where I can find something like that?"

 

Sun shrugged. "Do I look like an arms dealer? Now peel off that suit and let me get some anesthetic in you, then I'll see what I can do to fix that rib."

 

I complied with the doctor, and waited while he measured up a dose of what I'm pretty sure was just Med-X. Looking back on things, I'm also pretty sure that the whole 'getting the patient undressed' business was just as intentional a business move as was doing the diagnosis and treatment in public view. It wasn't any skin off my back, but I found it amusing that it was OK for a doctor to do business this way, but at least some people thought the dress code up in Concord was a moral outrage. Evidently hypocrisy managed to survive the war in one piece.

 

 

After he'd finished getting my rib back in the right position and then taping up the injured area, Sun looked at me appraisingly - and maybe a little condescendingly, too. "I don't suppose there's any chance I can get you to take it easy and stay off your feet for a week?"

 

I shrugged, wincing only a little. "Sorry, doc. I've got things to do."

 

"Well then, at least try not to get shot again until your ribs heal up. I'll give you a prescription for some chems that'll help you heal up faster, but mind the dosing. They're habit forming."

 

While I got dressed, Sun rattled off his recommendations for dosing Hydra. I hadn't heard of this one before, but Sun explained it was brewed up from cave fungus and radscorpion venom, and it promoted accelerated healing. 

 

Just a little snarkily, I asked, "so where does one fill a prescription in Diamond City? I didn't see a Walgreen's sign on the way in."

 

The answer turned out to be literally next door. In a real triumph of the free market, Diamond City's main drug dealer had set up his business just one door down from the doctor's office. Chem-i-Care tried to present itself as a legitimate business, but I wasn't so sheltered in my old life that I couldn't recognize a drug dealer when I saw one. 

 

 

Solomon did indeed have the Hydra that Sun had instructed me to take, as well as, to quote the dealer 'a pick-me up if you're feeling glum.'

 

I declined his up-sell, but I did pick up a few more StimPaks from him while I was collecting the Hydra. I shared a little half-hearted small talk with Solomon; the man was friendly enough but I'm pretty sure he was getting high on his own supply. I mean, who am I to judge, right? But it didn't really make him enchanting to chat with.

 

 

With the first dose of foul-smelling and rank-tasting slurry down my throat, I moved on to my final bit of business. A couple times in the last day my mind had drifted back to John - the barber's - suggestion that I shave my head and wear a wig instead. Something about the idea had kind of appealed to me, but I never felt ready to pull the trigger on it. Now, with a trip to Vault 81 imminent, I realized that I had a very real reason to do so. If there was anyone in the Commonwealth who'd realize the significance of my pink hair, it would be the citizens of Vault 81. Well, at least they'd be able to find out its significance if they looked into it. It was mostly a hunch, but I had a strong suspicion that understanding that I was a prisoner of Vault-Tec rather than a member or at least a free client might change my relationship with them in a bad way. So it was time for a second visit to the hair salon.

 

John was happy to oblige me on my request, though he lamented a little as he cut away the fresh hair-do he'd put together only a couple days earlier. I also had his sister wax my pubic hair and my armpits - I didn't need my body hair giving away my secrets after putting all this effort into concealing the hair on my head. 

 

Afterwards, I took a look at myself in the mirror. I can say with confidence that I wasn't meant for a shaved head. Maybe it was vanity, but I didn't feel like the contours of my face worked well with a bare scalp.

 

 

Still, that was that, and I set about looking for a suitable wig. A little bit to my dismay, none of the color seemed really natural - I'm pretty certain the idea with these was decoration rather than just replacing natural hair.

 

"John," I asked, a little frustrated I hadn't started with the wigs instead of vice versa, "I'm not sure any of these are really any better than my natural color. Do you have something more subtle?"

 

"Where's the fun in subtlety?" He challenged. "You deserve something that really frames your face and makes it pop. Here... how about this? No?"

 

"No, too blue. Much too blue." 

 

"But it would color coordinate with your outfit," he pushed.

 

"Seriously, I want something that could at least have a chance of passing as a natural hair color."

 

"OK, how about this?"

 

He offered me a rather vivid red piece. It was still too bright, but I was at least willing to give it a try. I slipped it over my head and checked it in the mirror.

 

 

"OK, John, that actually looks pretty good."

 

"Yeah, with your personality I figured bright red would work."

 

"Then why were you pushing the blue on me?"

 

"Color. Coordination. It's not a hard concept, right?"

 

"Fine, fine. Thank you, John, I know I'm a picky customer, and you were a big help."

 

"My pleasure!" he said, all smiles again, "come back when you're ready to try something new."

 

With my hair situation handled, I tracked down Piper and we left town, this time bound west. The plan was to follow Van Ness until Park Drive, and then cut across to Beacon Street, which would take us the rest of the way to the Chestnut Hill Reservoir. But that was just "Plan A." We knew there was super mutant activity in the area, so we mapped out a few different alternate routes. Worse come to worst, we'd backtrack to Diamond City, head north to the Charles River, and then take Commonwealth Ave. So one way or another, we'd make it to Vault 81.

 

At first, things seemed to be going smoothly with Plan A. No sign of Super Mutants anywhere, and as we got our eyes on Higginson Circle it looked like we were going to have an uneventful run into Vault 81. Then we heard a voice in the distance.

 

"Help! Somebody please help! She's hurt!"

 

Piper and I swept left and right and quickly found the source of the voice: a woman waving to us from the opposite end of an alley to the north.

 

I shrugged to Piper. "Cover me, in case there's trouble," and started up heading in her direction. 

 

As soon as she saw me, she waved to the building she was in front of - a Hardware Town - and started opening the door. "She's in here! Please help!" She said, then slipped inside.

 

 

Piper and I followed her in, and the woman moved fast towards the back of the darkened store. "She's right back here, follow me!"

 

As we followed behind her, I head a harsh whisper. "Hey! I told you to bring 'em in through the basement."

 

Yeah, surprise, surprise, it was a trap. I unslung my shotgun and along with Piper we rolled into the back room shooting. I screamed something obscene as I felt a couple shotgun pellets deflect off my vault suit right above where Doctor Sun fixed up my rib, and unloaded on the first ambusher. He went down in a bloody mess, and while I did that Piper advanced past me, spitting bullets from her rifle.

 

 

Compared to the Triggermen, these raiders didn't put up much of a fight, but I wondered how they'd managed to set up shop so close to Diamond City. Turning to Piper I asked, "isn't DC Security supposed to keep these clowns away from Fenway?"

 

She frowned as she thought on that. "Yeah, they are. I think I've got some new questions for McDonough when I get back to town. Like what the security budget's getting spent on. And what these raiders were up to so close to town."

 

We found an answer to the second question fairly quickly, when we descended into the basement. Apparently the raiders had been where for a while, and they'd been kidnapping and torturing local traders.

 

 

I was glad to know we'd shut down this operation, but I found myself doubly curious about what DC Security thought they were doing - clearly this operation had been running for a while, and if raiders could get this close to Diamond City, what about super mutants? I found myself almost hoping that they were operating here because of official corruption rather than official incompetence.

 

The rest of the trip to Chestnut Hill Reservoir was pretty uneventful. We came in through Beacon Street, as planned, and then followed the walking trail around the perimeter of the reservoir. In the process we had to scare off some giant bugs that were buzzing around the shore, but we didn't encounter any serious threats.

 

 

Once we got to the west side, we started up the remains of what used to be Campanella Way - it had become a private service road after Vault-Tec bought up the land, but even before the way I don't think it was very well maintained. Now it was just intermittent rough chunks of asphalt on the hillside. We were into twilight when we finally reached the vault entrance, or rather, the little shanty town built up around it. Some traders were camped out in front, and I waved to them in greeting. 

 

"Hey, Cricket," I said, recognizing the woman from the DC marketplace, "I didn't realize you worked up this way."

 

 

Cricket was a slender, actually kind of gaunt young woman, and she waved to me cooly in response. "Well, if it isn't our resident time traveler. What brings you up here?"

 

"Making a delivery. That, and looking to clear the air with the 81ers."

 

Cricket laughed at that. "Yeah... they're not really your biggest fans. Like what you did with your hair though."

 

"Thanks," I said. "What's the procedure for getting into the vault? And where's the exterior security?"

 

"First one's easy," she answered, waving her hand towards a rough hole in the hillside. "You just march on in and ask them to open up. Of course, normally you need to get a security token from their representative in DC... when he's in town. Twice a year. But you've got that Pip-Boy, so I'm pretty sure you can dial in direct. The second part? The security? There isn't any. Vault 81's all about," she turned to the woman next to her, "what's that phrase they like?"

 

"Soft power."

 

"Yeah, soft power. You mess with Vault 81, they cut off your trade. And if you're west of the vault, they cut your trade to Diamond City for good measure. So folks don't mess with Vault 81."

 

"That kind sounds like a strategy that only works till it doesn't work," I said.

 

"Ha, true enough, but who's going to be the first one to test it?"

 

"Good question," I admitted. "Well, I think I've got a date with Cedric Mansfield. Have a safe trip back to Diamond City."

 

"You too, old timer."

 

I was really unimpressed with the state of the vault exterior. If I were running things, we'd have a perimeter wall, or at least fencing, and we'd have some sort of guard post. Even if the personnel were billeted in the vault proper, it was important to have eyes and ears on the outside. The thought definitely crossed my mind that if they really were a paper tiger, then if push came to shove we could probably move in and put this place under our protection, so to speak. Of course, Preston and his nascent Minutemen might have some issues with that... but it never hurts to plan for contingencies.

 

 

"Vault 81," whispered Piper as we approached the door controls. "I have so many questions for the folks down here."

 

"Me too," I agreed. "But let's focus on getting them to open the door first. No sense spooking them and getting the hatch locked in our face."

 

"I know, I know. I'm on my best behavior."

 

We crossed the last stretch of catwalk and found ourselves in front of an access control panel identical to the ones that I'd seen at Vault 111 and Vault 114. 

 

"OK, here goes nothing," I said as I popped my Pip-Boy's interface plug into the connector.

 

 

Unlike Vault 114, where the door immediately levered open, this time I was greeted by a radio transmission.

 

"Hold it right there, this is Vault 81 Security. I don't know how you got your hands on a working Pip-Boy, but attempting to override our security protocols is prohibited. You better start talking."

 

"I'm here for Nick Valentine, in Diamond City. I have a delivery for Cedric Mansfield."

 

"Is that so? And you expect me to believe... oh. Overseer!"

 

A woman's voice, slightly distorted from an off-angle pickup, sounded in the background. I made a mental note of the guard's poor discipline - he left the transmitter on. "Who is it, Edward?"

 

"Ma'am," Edwards answered her, "Some new Commonwealth traveler. Says she's making a delivery for Nick Valentine. She... has an operational Pip-Boy."

 

"That's not something we see every day. Let me speak to them."

 

A moment later, she spoke again, this time her voice picking up on the radio clear and crisp. "Sorry about that," she began, "Officer Edwards was just doing his job. I'm sure you can understand the need for caution."

 

I summoned the willpower to keep my laugh on the inside. Caution didn't seem to be Vault 81's strong suit. But I played along, happily agreeing, "I understand completely."

 

 

"Am I correct in understanding that you have Nick Valentine's delivery for Deputy Overseer Mansfield?" The Overseer queried.

 

"I do. Three holotapes, all in perfect condition."

 

"Well then, I guess I should say, 'welcome to Vault 81.' I'll see you at the entrance."

 

A few minutes later, I heard a deep rumble followed by a muffled hiss of steam, and the great cog-wheel door of the vault started to roll aside. I crossed the entry gantry into the vault's screening area, where I found a small welcoming committee already assembled.

 

 

When I came within handshake distance, the woman at the head of the party turned to me, but didn't offer a hand.

 

"Gwen MacNamara," she said by way of introduction, "Overseer of Vault 81." Then pointing to the blond man she added, "and this is Cedric Mansfield. I believe you have business with him."

 

"Pleased to meet you, Overseer. I'm Charlotte Ellison, but my associates call me Charley. Deputy Director," I nodded to Mansfield, "I'm happy to see you as well. We do indeed have business."

 

I tried to not be too obvious in scrutinizing the 81ers uniforms. They had a different Vault Suit model than mine, but it appeared to have most of the same features. The cut was, maybe unsurprisingly, much more conventional, with none of the exposed skin and with rugged leather combat boots instead of the built-in high heels mine had. I also noticed that all their suits were, well, maybe not filthy, but they had dirt and grime on them. Definitely showing signs of lots of wear and tear.

 

MacNamara must have been doing the same for me, because she commented, "that's an interesting Vault Suit you have there. Vault 114 issue? Did you get the Pip-Boy there, also?"

 

Well, I thought, looks like we're going to address the elephant in the room right away. I turned around so they could see the decal on the back. "Vault 111. I'm a resident."

 

There was an awkward silence before the heavyset man between the two vault leaders spoke. "Then Vault 111 really exists? And it has survivors?"

 

"Only two survivors, unfortunately. But we're working with the local community to rebuild and repopulate." I looked to MacNamara when I said the last part of my response. "And we very much do exist."

 

I thought I detected just a fractional bit of embarrassment on MacNamara's face, but she quickly masked it with a stern expression that back before the war we called 'resting bitch face.' But she held it only long enough to get her thoughts under control, after which a look of cautious curiosity crept over her.

 

"I admit," she said, "I didn't expect to see you wearing a Vault Suit, and especially not one from Vault 111. I'm sure you know that we've greeted some of the claims about your community with... skepticism. Is the vault itself still operational?"

 

 

"It is," I said, "but we've mothballed most of the systems for the time being. We'll need a larger community and logistics base before it can maintain a population again."

 

Mansfield cut in, "that makes no sense. Vaults are the safest structures in the Commonwealth, and fully self-sufficient. What happened there?"

 

I turned to him. "Am I correct in assuming you're familiar with the concept of an experimental vault as opposed to a control vault?" I'd read up on the divide shortly before Winter and I moved down to Sanctuary to first start setting up shop.

 

"Yes, I'm quite familiar. I take it then that 111," he pronounced it 'one hundred and eleven,' "suffered an accident related to the experimental protocols?"

 

"Essentially, yes. 111," I pronounced it one-eleven, "was conducting research into cryogenic life support systems. There was a system failure and most of the inhabitants expired. The staff abandoned the facility many years ago, and prior to my revival the vault had been going without routine maintenance for decades."

 

 

Changing the topic, NacNamara asked, "I see you've been fitted with a Neural Sentry. Were they universally deployed at 111?" She echoed my one-eleven pronunciation - nice to see she was paying attention to me.

 

I nodded, "After my revival, we found the fabrication specifications in the vault mainframe. I believe they were planned for deployment there before the war interrupted normal operations."

 

"That's very interesting. We were still waiting for the holodisks with the fabber specs when the bombs dropped. Would your community be willing to share those specifications with us? Maybe to make an exchange of technical data?"

 

I was starting at that moment to feel a little suspicious about the sudden turn in the 81ers from almost irrational rejection of our mere existence to enthusiastic welcome, and so I took a conservative tack.

 

"I'm not closed to the idea, but I think any community level agreements, including technology transfer, need to be negotiated between vault leadership. Let's table that discussion for now - after all, all my advisors are back up north, so you have me at a bit of a disadvantage."

 

I thought I detected just a momentary flash of anger in MacNamara's eyes, but she didn't let it leak into her voice. "That's a fair position," she conceded. "We pride ourselves on running a successful vault for over two centuries. We like to be self-sufficient, so I'm sure you can understand why we'd be eager to obtain any Vault-Tec technology from before the war. Every little bit helps us."

 

"I'm impressed you maintained a successful vault for this long," I observed. "The situation in the Commonwealth seems extremely... tenuous. It can't have been easy to function in this sort of environment."

 

"Thanks," MacNamara said, "I owe it to the Overseers before me."

 

"This is all very touching," Mansfield cut in, "but if you're ready I can take those holotapes from you." I hadn't picked up on it before, but Mansfield had that kind of snotty, privileged voice that made the rich folks back before the war always seem supremely punchable. Evidently that clade of humanity had managed to persevere through nuclear annihilation.

 

"Of course," I said, extracting the discs, "here they are."

 

Mansfield collected the three holotapes, and I turned back to MacNamara. "Considering the late hour, I'd appreciate it if my companion and I could rest the night here. Is that acceptable?"

 

"If you'll walk with me, I think we can make arrangements."

 

"Alright," I said, "lead the way."

 

MacNamara led me through a series of contamination scanners, and I noticed a pair of men in lab coats surreptitiously reviewing a display as I crossed the threshold. From there, we took a right turn, and then another right, until we were in an office. 

 

"Alright," she said, dropping her congenial manner. "Cards on the table. I know you're a research subject. Don't deny it, only involuntary subjects got tattoos like you have, and despite your modifications that's obviously a slave suit. Did your actions while resident in the vault result in the death or injury of any employee of Vault-Tec Incorporated or any of its subsidiaries?" I swear to God, it was like she was reading from a script.

 

I looked her in the eyes and answered her. "No. During my... participation in the experimental research, I was never in a position to resist the Vault 111 staff, and after my revival the staff was long since dead or departed. Based on the fragmentary logs we recovered, there was a mutiny in the security force that killed most of the staff; the survivors abandoned the vault."

 

MacNamara sneered. "Absolutely unacceptable. Not just a mutiny, but then a mass abandonment of a vault? But I suppose it just proves how lucky we are here."

 

"You don't seem particularly bothered by the fact that Vault-Tec decided to make me and my family into Guinea pigs," I observed.

 

MacNamara made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Putting aside the fact that all of that literally happened centuries ago, the entire Project Safehouse program couldn't have succeeded without the experimental vaults. I understand that you're upset about the role you played in that project, but you need to come to terms with the fact that any harm Vault-Tec caused is wildly outweighed by the benefits Project Safehouse secured for humanity." And judging by the completely unbothered expression on her face as she said it, MacNamara believe it, too.

 

 

I have to admit, that got under my skin a little. MacNamara, evidently not content to leave it at one 'truth bomb,' kept right on rolling. "I think its also important that you come to terms with where your community stands in the greater scheme of things," she said. "You aren't an employee of Vault-Tec. You aren't an Overseer. The settlement your people have established in Concord is not a vault, and it's disingenuous for you to represent yourself as one. I'm well aware of the reports that you use Vault-Tec insignia and paraphernalia to try and legitimate your activities, including seizing control of strategic points like the Drumlin Diner. I'm also aware that you've perpetuated elements of the sociological experimentation from your vault into the nearby communities."

 

My ears were burning as she plowed on, and I could feel my jaw tightening. "Overseer, a few minutes ago we were talking about technology transfer and cooperation, but if this is your idea of good faith negotiations, I think you're setting yourself up for disappointment."

 

"I'm just trying to definte our relationship," she said. "I'm sure you're aware that our official position is that traders shouldn't do business with your community. We don't acknowledge the existence of Vault 111, and we believe your group is using counterfeit equipment based on materials stolen from Vault 114. That position, I think, has to change. But that doesn't mean we have to swing to the opposite extreme. Undoubtedly you have some things that we want, but there's a limit to what price we're willing to pay. Acknowledging and even sanctioning the activities of a pirate vault - and that's what your community is - would carry terrible costs for us that far outweigh anything we stand to gain from working with you."

 

I was really getting fed up with this. "Then what kind of exchange did you have in mind?"

 

"Frankly?" she asked, rhetorically I'm sure, "I want you to take down those Vault-Tec flags you're flying over Concord. I want you to put away your Vault Suits and shut off your Pip-Boys, and stop pretending to be something you aren't. But I know that's just as harmful to your community as fully recognition for 111 would be for us. So here's what I want: no Vault 111 activities on this side of the Charles River. No folks in Vault Suits, no settlements, no official security operations. If your people are going to come and go, they come and go as civilians, without official cover. In exchange, we'll correct the record on your community. We'll confirm that you've disproven the Vault 114 origin theory and affirm that the community at Concord was founded by a former resident of Vault 111. We won't discourage traders from doing business with you anymore, either. If you can keep to your side of the deal for a year, then we can discuss setting up formal trade relations."

 

I chewed on that mentally, trying not to let my anger color my thoughts. "Overseer MacNamara, it sounds to me like you're afraid we're going to invade you." And as I said it, I realized I'd been thinking of doing just that maybe half an hour ago. 

 

"Afraid is such an emotional word," she said. "I assessed that if you continued on your current trajectory, that it was likely you would be establishing settlements on this side of the Charles, most likely first at Oberland Station, and then at Hangman Alley, at which point you would be able to cut off our logistical ties to Diamond City. That would be unacceptable, and so one way or another you have to be contained."

 

"You know," I mused, "back before the war, that's how people here talked about the Chinese. Containment. And that led to World War III. Are you sure you want to start down that path again?"

 

MacNamara shook her head. "No, I don't want that. But the way I see it, you've got every reason to hate us. We had a copy of Overseer Gray's orders, you know. I'm well aware of the activities that went on in your vault between the cryonics sessions. Frankly, I'm amazed the two of us can have a civil conversation, and that gives me some hope. But America had civil conversations with the communists before the war, and in the end the bombs still dropped. My hopes that we can coexist can't outweigh my duty to protect the people of Vault 81."

 

"I... ugh, I don't like it, and it's making me angry having this whole conversation, but I understand some of what you're saying. I understand why you're afraid of us."

 

"We're not afraid of you, Ellison. We're just realists. We recognize that you're a threat."

 

"Fine, I understand that you're threatened by us. How was it that our diplomats talked to the Chinese before the war? 'I agree with your suggestion in principle?' But the devil's in the details, so let's talk. In particular, let's talk about security operations."

 

I laid out to her the pattern I'd seen in Boston. Super mutants moving in on the raiders, one supply line after another to Diamond City getting cut, DC Security phoning it in when raiders were literally in their back yard. To the last point, I told her about the Hardware Town gang and their little damsel in distress operation. 

 

"Where I see this pattern going, is a complete collapse of the security environment around Diamond City. You're security assessment was right. I was thinking about conducting an operation at Hangman's Alley to secure Storrow Drive as a safe corridor between Cambridge and Fenway. And you're right, we'd probably have to set up a permanent logistics base where the Lexington rail line crosses the Charles, near Cumnock Woods."

 

"All credit goes to Mansfield," she said, "before he was Deputy Overseer, he was head of security, and it shows."

 

"So if we aren't going to secure Storrow Drive, what's the alternative? Beyond the strategic reasons, I have personal reasons why I don't want to see Diamond City fall. Is Vault 81 going to step up and fill the gap?"

 

MacNamara shook her head. "Not for at least five years. We have serious domestic challenges we have to overcome before we can think about intervening in exterior affairs."

 

"Cards on the table, as you said, you can't even secure your doorstep right now. I saw the shanty town out front, not a single Vault 81 gray suiter in sight."

 

The Overseer threw up her hands. "What do you expect me to do? Vault Dwellers don't grow on trees, and we lost a number of citizens when Quincy fell. We're still negotiating with the Gunners for their release, and even if we had the strength to have a more forceful external policy, becoming a competitor to the Gunners would kill the talks."

 

"What about the Minutemen?"

 

Gwen scoffed. "They're gone. The Gunners finished them off at Quincy."

 

"They're not gone," I countered. "One group got away, and their rebuilding in Concord, under my protection. If I keep Vault 111 on my side of the Charles, will you accept Minutemen operations on this end?"

 

"Not under the 111 flag."

 

"No, certainly not. I'll talk to Colonel Garvey; we're still formalizing their relationship with 111. I think he'd embrace the idea of becoming an, uh, international organization, for lack of a better term."

 

Her face sunk into a deep frown. "Damn, I have to talk to Cedric about this. And I want to talk to this Colonel Garvey. In person. But... I think we can work something out."

 

The heat in my ears was starting to drain, but then I thought about what MacNamara had said earlier and the blood flooded right back. "Listen, Overseer, I'm glad we're not going to roll into World War IV, but I need to be straight with you. I'm angry about what you said before. And I think you know why."

 

"Do you want me to tell you that I condemn what Overseer Gray did to the people in 111?"

 

"It would have been nice," I agreed.

 

"Are you sure you want to start our relationship with a lie? I'm sorry, Ellison, but I can't condemn the experimental protocols. They served a real purpose. An important one, and I wish you could see that."

 

"They raped me. Every day I wasn't frozen, they raped me again and again. They raped my husband. They raped everyone there. Do you know that when Overseer Gray's daughter - oh yes, her own daughter was an experimental subject there. When her daughter fought back too much, they amputated her arms and legs. Overseer Gray was a psychopath and she was a murderer. I saw other victims die during her experiments. In the end, the only people who survived were me and my baby boy. Can you even comprehend what I experienced there?"

 

"I can't. That's the truth. I can't comprehend it. But I know they did it for a purpose, and if the leadership had been stronger, if they hadn't failed and let the vault fall apart, maybe that research - unsavory as it was - could have made an important contribution to restoring our civilization. And can I say something blunt?"

 

"Go ahead," I grunted.

 

"At the end of it, you appropriated the identity of the vault. You're wearing  Vault 111 uniform right now. You're voluntarily using a Neural Sentry. I know on good authority that you force the inhabitants of the settlements you control to wear Vault-Tec slave suits. People say that the 'first law' of your community is the Vault Suits. Putting aside for a moment the troublingly communistic ideology that your people espouse, how can you expect me to condemn Vault-Tec when you've claimed them as your own?"

 

"They owe me. It's mine now," I growled, not really thinking through what I answered.

 

"What? They owe you?"

 

I tried again, and did a little better. "Vault-Tec took away everything in my life. My job, my freedom, my bodily autonomy, not just in the moment but still to this day, because of the way they reprogrammed my mind and my body. They took away all my friends and family, and while they didn't personally kill my husband, they created the circumstances that led to his death and to my baby's kidnapping. They threw me in to this hellscape all alone and with nothing. So yes, I think they owe it to me. Back in my day, I'd have sued them for everything they had, and despite how badly the courts were stacked for the corpos, what they did was so egregious I still would have bankrupted them in the end. So with no courts left to sue them in and no Vault-Tec left for me to sue - present company excepted - I claimed a default judgment. That vault belongs to me now, along with all its intellectual property and its trappings. Does that make sense?"

 

MacNamara let out a long breath. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand. Well, if you're Vault-Tec in the north now, try not to ruin the brand, all right?"

 

I laughed, "Gwen, honey, its all up for Vault-Tec, there's no further their brand can fall, the way I see it."

 

She bristled a little when I used her first name, but as she'd demonstrated she was so capable of doing, she clamped down on it right away. "I guess you'd see it that way, wouldn't you? Fine. Have we got an agreement about the Charles? That's the border between our, God it sounds so awful, our 'spheres of influence?' Effective today?"

 

"Yeah, we're in agreement. Peace in our time." I started to tug at my vault suit. "I hope you won't begrudge me keeping the Neural Sentry on, I've been using it long enough that I'd get withdrawals from taking it off for long."

 

"Oh course. I don't see any 111 branding on it. But hey, wait, what are you doing?"

 

"I'm following our agreement," I said as I kicked out of the heels and then stepped out of the suit. "No 111 Vault Suits on this side of the river. That was part of the deal."

 

"I... didn't mean it like that."

 

"Effective today," I continued, a little more snappily than I planned.

 

MacNamara rolled her eyes. "You're doing this just to embarrass me, aren't you?"

 

Just then, Cedric Mansfield walked into the room. He evidently wasn't even looking where he was walking, because he monologued for some time before he realized what was going on.

 

"You should be flattered," he was saying, "not everyone gets a personal welcome from the Overseer. Normally that's my job."

 

 

"Is that so, Cedric?" I asked. I figured that if I was in a room naked with him, we were by definition already on a first-name basis.

 

"Yes, Overseer MacNa... what?"

 

That was evidently the moment he realized I had stripped.

 

"Gwen can explain," I said. "She doesn't want any Vault 111 branding on her turf."

 

"Overseer?" Cedric asked, tentatively, "is this true?"

 

"No! Yes, Ellison is twisting our agreement to make a scene. I never intended for her to take such a... literal action."

 

Turning to Cedric I asked, "is something the matter? You seem upset. I was under the impression that it was your analysis that identified the threat to you my community posed."

 

 

"What?" he stammered. "I mean, yes, it was my analysis, but I don't understand why you're disrobing in the interview room."

 

"Gwen was just explaining to me how because Vault-Tec made me a sex slave two hundred years ago, that my community wasn't a real vault and that we shouldn't be competing with Vault 81. She also told me that she didn't want to see a trace of Vault 111 on this side of the Charles River."

 

"Now hang on," MacNamara said, "I already agreed that you have a right to take the Vault. I conceded that point to you. And you agreed that you wouldn't threaten our security posture. What about the Minutemen? I thought we had a deal."

 

"Jesus Christ, Gwen, we do have a deal. I'm sorry that I'm making you uncomfortable. Did you know that because of the way Overseer Gray chemically treated my body, I can't wear normal clothes? But that's alright, I've come to be very comfortable in my own skin."

 

I tossed my crumpled Vault Suit to Cedric and said, "hold this for me. Now show me where I can lie down. I need to rest before I head back to Diamond City."

 

"But... but... Ms. Ellison..." he stammered as he caught the suit.

 

 

"Oh, come on, at least call me Charley when you've got me naked. I thought I already explained that's what people call me. Now come on, show me where I can get some sleep."

 

"But... we have children in this Vault. You need to dress decently."

 

Gwen groaned. "Cedric, I'm sure you can find her something to wear. Come on, don't make this any more mortifying than necessary."

 

"And get something soft and light," I added. "I was just explaining to Gwen that thanks to my involuntary participation in an experimental protocol, I have permanent dermal hypersensitivity."

 

Cedric vanished rather quickly, and a few minutes later he returned with a bundle of cloth as well as a small box.

 

"Your Vault Suit is in the box, folded and bagged. Here, try on this dress and see if it meets your needs."

 

I took the garment and slipped it over my head. The dress was made from some sort of latex or artificial leather, but it was very soft and (almost) didn't chafe my nipples. Not perfect, but tolerable, and I thanked Cedric for the effort.

 

 

"Thank you," I said, "I appreciate you taking the extra effort to find something comfortable. Now, really, if you could show me where I can get some rest, I'd like to depart first thing in the morning."

 

"I understand," MacNamara said, "and I wish circumstances had allowed us to have a friendlier first meeting. For now, Deputy Director Mansfield will show you to your room, and I'll look forward to a meeting in the future with Colonel Garvey."

 

While I followed Cedric deeper into the vault, I wondered how Preston would react to his unplanned promotion. Well, he was going to need the rank to do his job sooner or later - he should just be glad I didn't make him a General. 

 

Cedric eventually deposited us at the elevator to the habitation section with instructions on how to reach our assigned room. "Aren't you afraid that I'll start a riot or something if you leave me unattended?" I asked, only half kiddingly.

 

Mansfield shrugged, "you've got more to lose than us if you ruin your first impression. I think I can trust you to behave yourself."

 

On the elevator ride down, Piper considered my new dress with a smirk. 

 

 

"I heard the guards talking. Is it true you really gave her the whole 'if you don't like my clothes I guess I'll just be naked' treatment?"

 

I laughed. "Guilty. It made them remarkably uncomfortable. Totally worth it."

 

Piper just shook her head. "You never cease to impress me, Blue. Did you get what you wanted?"

 

"Yes and no," I said with a shrug. "We're going to have problems with these people in the future. Like, not just because of the whole territory thing, but they're bought into a fairy tale version of a really sick organization, and they aren't ready - or even able, I think - to accept the truth. We can coexist today, coexist tomorrow, but some day, it's going to come to a head. And I think its going to be on me to find a way to avoid a meltdown."

 

"Sounds to me like you've got some catching up to do before we hit the hay."

 

"Only if you keep it out of your newspaper. This is like, delicate international relations, and stuff."

 

"Pfft," Piper scoffed, "so you're suddenly the big leader?"

 

"Ugh, don't even get me--"

 

The opening of the elevator doors cut short the conversation, and stepping our we were almost immediately accosted by a kid - a boy of maybe 12 or so. 

 

"Hey lady, is it true you're from the Commonwealth?"

 

 

"Rumors travel fast," I admitted. "Why do you want to know?"

 

"I never met anyone from the Commonwealth before," he pronounced the word oddly, like commonwealth with the emphasis on the second half. "Thought you might want someone to show you around." Then he added: "just five caps."

 

"I see capitalism is alive and well in Vault 81. OK, kid, here's your caps. Give me the grand tour."

 

The kid did in fact give a pretty good tour. When he was done, I was confident I could find anything I needed in the vault. I also noticed how lax the security was. Here I was, an outsider - and I'm sure Cedric must have briefed the security force on the danger he saw from 111. And yet, they let this kid lead me through every vital area of the vault except maybe the reactor room. I really did need to get Preston down here to work out an arrangement with MacNamara. Sooner or later - probably sooner - this place was going to need the Minutemen.

 

Our "guest room," it turned out, was a hastily set up bed in a storage closet. Not exactly five star service, but at least the bed looked clean and soft.

 

 

"Failing a little in the hospitality department," Piper opined.

 

"Yeah, no disagreement here. I think they normally have guests sleep out in the shanty town. So, you ready to get some shuteye?"

 

Piper winked at me. "Maybe once I work off some of this nervous energy." She drew closer and tugged at my dress. "Did I hear that you had John shave off all your hair?"

 

"Technically, it was mostly his sister," I whispered as I drew her a little closer.

 

"I think I need to see this," she said, nipping at my ear.

 

Well, who was I to argue with that. I slipped out of the dress and plopped my wig onto the testing bench that had been set up as an impromptu nightstand, than climbed into bed with the journalist.

 

"Damn, you're smooth," she said, running a hand over my scalp before planting a little peck on my lips. From there, she worked her kisses down my neck and into my armpit.

 

 

I giggled a little at the ticklish sensation of her lips brushed my freshly waxed armpit. Then, before I could even respond to Piper's whispered, "what's this?" I helped as it felt like my nipple was being pulled inside out.

 

"Are you OK?" Piper asked.

 

A breath later I said, "yeah, I should have told you. Don't pull on those wires."

 

"You want to tell my why you have wires hanging out of your armpits?"

 

I laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not a synth. They're sensor leads for a power armor suit that I - and I'm regretting it more and more with every gunfight - left back in Concord. If you follow me up there some time, I'll show it to you."

 

"If I follow you up there? Is there any doubt?"

 

Before I could answer, Piper landed a hard slap on my rump. "That's for doubting me," she said.

 

 

I grinned slyly at her. "Are you saying I'm a naughty girl?"

 

"Very naughty," she whispered as she leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. I felt her tongue probe at my lips and I met her tip to tip. I could feel Piper shiver as we made contact.

 

"Oh, you're like a live wire," she gasped.

 

I leaned into her further, pressing my body against her and kissing her deeper. We pulled closer and tighter until we a squeal Piper lost her balance and we tumbled out of bed onto the floor. Somehow in the tumble she ended up on top of my and pulled me back up towards her, unintentionally (I think), grabbing my neck and choking me a little. It was a rookie mistake that spoke to her lack of experience, but I had enough self control to not choke or thrash - I let her grab my neck and pull, and just made a mental note to explain to her why that isn't the best technique... in the morning. 

 

 

Once she let up on the pressure, I looked back to her. 

 

"OK, hot shot, time to show me what you learned. Come and eat this nice smooth pussy, pronto."

 

It didn't take any further prodding for her to get back into bed with me, and soon she was sucking on my nipple again.

 

 

"That's good, sweety, but you don't need to warm me up. I'm already dripping with anticipation."

 

Piper pushed down further, more kissing than licking at first, but soon she settled into a rhythm. She was giving it a good go, but I wanted to get my mouth on her too, and so I told her, "turn around, so you're over my head. I want to get at you, too." 

 

 

She followed my instructions, and soon I was able to reach her. I sucked on her clit a little, but the angle wasn't great - and I didn't want to throw off Piper's game - so I took a couple tentative locks at her asshole. When Piper didn't protest, I leaned in and switched to full-scale ass eating. Her anus was tight - obviously if this was going to become a regular activity I'd need to break it in with some toys or some finger play - but from the way she wiggled as I probed her with my tongue she was definitely feeling what I was getting up to.

 

 

We kept at it for a while until Piper managed to push me over the edge. By then, she'd already come twice, and my face was liberally coated in her juices. Still not full-scale gushing, but she'd definitely let loose with a lot more fluid than last time. Whoever got stuck cleaning the bedding after we left was going to have plenty of evidence of what we got up to. After that, we wound down with just a little more tongue play before snuggling up and cuddling until we fell asleep. It was a good encounter, and if Cedric or his goons were watching, I hoped I'd made them super uncomfortable.