The next morning, we spent a little time at the Drumlin Diner before heading on to Concord. I introduced Piper to the regulars; first Wolfgang and then Trudy. Wolfgang obligingly retold the story of how I defused the fight between him and Trudy, and then liberally embellished it, giving me credit for turning his life around and turning him into a legitimate health care worker. Now, Wolfgang was about as legitimate - at best - as the drug pusher at Chem-i-Care, and I don't think he fooled Piper on that score, but she seemed really interested in his retelling of events. She also seemed very interested in his take on the 111 uniforms.

 

 

"Honestly? I thought the whole thing was crazy at first, but once I got used to it I don't even think about it anymore. And I have to admit, the Vault Suit looks a lot more flattering on Simone than her old road leathers getup."

 

Simone clucked at that, shooting back, "those high heels didn't look too 'flattering' on you when you were stumbling around like a drunk."

 

"Ha," Wolfgang laughed, "that was only for what... a week?"

 

"Two weeks, at least," his bodyguard corrected.

 

"Sure, maybe, but now it's no problem. And you know, if someone ever wants to pay for their, um, medication in trade, it's so much simpler."

 

Piper narrowed her eyes at that, "are you telling me you trade drugs for sex?"

 

Wolfgang just signed. "I wish I were telling you that. No, in fact, I don't think I've seen any sex being traded for anything lately." Turning to me he continued, "you should work on that, boss. There is a sad lack of prostitution in the northern Commonwealth. Sad... even tragic."

 

"Well, thank you for alerting me to this serious problem, Wolfgang. You're helpful as ever. Something tells me though that opening a red-light district might not be my top priority."

 

After I managed to break away from Wolfgang and his love-life problems, we sat down to talk with Trudy.

 

 

"I've got a store to run," she groused, "how about you buy something?"

 

"I don't know, what's the price for you to do an interview with my friend Piper here?"

 

"How about you convince that tightwad Garvey to order more ballistic cloth from Bunker Hill, and let me be the middleman? I think that'll go a long way to balancing the books here."

 

Piper picked up on that, "so you're still running like, a market economy here?"

 

"Oh, you brought a smart one home with you, Charley." Turning to Piper she continued, "you mean like, we buy things and sell them, and gotta keep the caps flowing to stay afloat? Damn straight. The boss has only done two things for free: talked Wolfgang out of messing with my boy, and this fancy outfit." She tugged at the neck of her Vault Suit for emphasis.

 

"Hey, credit where credit's due, I did arrange for the walls, and the powered security gates, and the guards, too."

 

 

"Yeah, you did all that, but it wasn't for free," Trudy challenged. "I had to join your little kingdom, and put up with all kinds of static from Vault 81. Did I mention that Bunker Hill won't sell to me on credit anymore?"

 

"No, you didn't. I'm sorry about that. We're actually just coming back from a meeting at 81. You shouldn't have any more problems with them."

 

 

She cocked her head at me and almost-but-not-quite smiled. "That's the best news I've heard all week. How'd you manage it?"

 

I shrugged. "I promised I wouldn't send an army to conquer them."

 

Trudy snorted. "Yeah, right."

 

"OK, that's kind of a stretch. But we did agree that Vault 111 is staying on our side of the Charles. We can't set up any settlements over the river, and if we travel to Diamond City, we can't wear the 111 uniform."

 

"What about Goodneighbor?" she asked.

 

I was a little taken aback by the question. "I'm sure I've heard that name somewhere before, but it's not clicking. Chaulk it up to the whole 'only woke up six months ago' thing and explain?"

 

Piper answered before Trudy could finish rolling her eyes. "It's a settlement a little further east then Park Street station. The Old State House is in the center." I nodded, recognizing where she was talking about. "It used to be kind of a combination penal colony-caravan waystation between DC and Bunker Hill, but they cut ties with Diamond City when McDonough expelled all the ghouls."

 

Trudiy reiterated her question, "So, does your agreement about DC include Goodneighbor? Can we do business with them flying 111 colors, so to speak?"

 

I shook my head, "no, the deal was no 111 presence on their side of the Charles. You can affiliate with 111 at Bunker Hill, but Goodneighbor and DC are 'unofficial travel only' now."

 

"Well, at least there's Bunker Hill," she accepted. "So, you buying anything for the road?"

 

"I don't know," I admitted, "got anything I need?"

 

Trudi pulled a wooden bin out from behind the counter. "I saved a few things I figured you might be interested in if you swung by. StimPaks, ASAM sensors, literature. That sort of thing."

 

"Literature, huh?" I asked as I rummaged through the bin. Apparently it was a dog-eared copy of Nylon Surprise. The cover of the magazine didn't leave much to the imagination.

 

 

"Looks a little more artsy-fartsy than my usual reading, but never judge a book by it's cover, right? What's the damage for the whole bin?"

 

We only haggled enough that I didn't make Trudy feel like I was giving her charity, then bottlecaps changed hands. I made a mental note that we needed to come up with some sort of currency that had a bit more gravitas than Nuka-Cola caps, but who am I to argue with what works?

 

On the way out of the diner, I saw... a confrontation would be too strong a word for it. The guard on the door was talking in tones that bridged the line between 'bored' and 'annoyed' with a woman who was clad head to toe in what looked like pre-war hazmat gear... topped with a crow's beak mask that looked like something out of the middle ages.

 

"I'm telling you, lady, there's no 'medical exemption.' If you want go into the diner, you get out of those clothes. Look, you can put them in the strongbox if you're afraid about them getting stolen."

 

"Something the matter here?" I asked.

 

"Sorry boss, nothing to worry about," the guard said. "Just another tourist who's feeling shy."

 

 

"I'm not a tourist," the woman corrected. "I'm a doctor and I'm here to do a consultation for the young man inside. I have an invitation from Ms. Drumlin."

 

I shook my head. "Her last name isn't actually Drumlin," I said. "The name of the diner is from before the war."

 

"Ah, oh," the masked woman said, seemingly a little off balance from the correction. 

 

I continued, "can you explain to me why you need to stay masked? Is there a risk of infectious disease?"

 

"Not that I'm aware of. But... this is a uniform. All the Nightingales dress this way, it helps people recognize us. We're neutral and off limits, without our uniform we'd be at risk from raider gangs."

 

"OK, I get the concept. Red cross armband doesn't cut it anymore I guess? But that sounds like a Boston problem. This area, the perimeter around Concord, it's secured by Vault 111 and by the Minutemen. You don't need to go out of your way to highlight your affiliation. And it's against rules that Vault 111 established for public order and for security. I'm not making an accusation, but it would be very easy for you to hide weapons under that coat, body armor too."

 

"It's a matter of principle," the woman protested. "If I didn't already have a patient I'm committed to help, I'd just go back the way I came. If you really have everything under control here, maybe you don't need the Nightingales here."

 

 

"Oh for Christ's sake, will you at least take off that mask so we can talk?"

 

The paused for a few seconds before letting out a sigh and reaching to unfasten the neck of her mask. 

 

"Fine, are you happy now?"

 

The woman had neck-length blonde hair, framing a face that examined me with pursed lips and a crooked eyebrow.

 

 

"Yes, I am. Thank you for taking a step towards accommodation. You mentioned before that you didn't think there was a risk of infectious disease. Am I right to believe that you don't feel unsafe here after doffing your mask?"

 

She nodded, though I could tell she was still watching me appraisingly. "That's a fair assumption."

 

"You mentioned before that you need your uniform to ensure your safety on the road."

 

"That's right, it's a symbol of our neutrality. The Nightingales will treat anyone and everyone."

 

"But you're inside our security perimeter," I said, pointing to the powered gate. "So I think it's safe to assume that you aren't relying on your neutrality for safety here. Do you agree?"

 

The woman scowled at me. "I see what you're trying to do here, but I don't have the authority to change policy on my own."

 

 

In the back of my head, I noted that I hadn't heard Piper make any wisecracks for a while, and I wondered where she'd wandered off to.

 

"I respect that you can't change policy, but I'm sure you can make an isolated situational decision in the interest of your patient, right?"

 

She nodded hesitantly, "That's true, but..."

 

I decided this was the moment to be blunt. "Are you embarrassed to be naked in public?"

 

The woman blushed as she denied it, "no, absolutely not. I'm a medical doctor, the human body isn't something I've never seen before."

 

"Good," I said, then I think we have a solution. "You strip out of those clothes and follow the regulations for visitors, or, if you insist on a visible symbol of your medical status, I can issue you a medic's vault suit for the duration of your stay. Acceptable?"

 

"Ugh," she groan angrily, "no, it's not acceptable. And I can't - and won't - wear your organization's uniform. It would imply that the Nightingales endorsed your government." Still, I saw her hand start to loosen her collar. 

 

"This does not represent the Nightingales agreeing to obey your government's compulsory dress code in the future," she said, slowly and deliberately, as she removed her garments. "And for the record, as a medical professional giving health advice, I do not recommend or endorse anything less than fully covering your body when outdoors."

 

I nodded in respectful acknowledgement as I ignored her advice. When she was fully disrobed she waved an impatient hand in my direction.

 

 

"Fine, are you satisfied now? Can I go do my job?"

 

I resisted the urge to run my eyes over her body just to make her uncomfortable. She had, after all, agreed to follow our rules in the end. 

 

"Be my guest," I said. "When you return to your organization, I'd like for them to send a representative to speak with me about establishing more formal protocols. Is that--"

 

Before I could finish, I heard a loud click. Turning, I saw piper pointing her camera at the two of us. The doctor hissed.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I can just see the headline now," she said, "Brave Nightingale bares all to help patient in need. The people will eat it up back in Diamond City."

 

I frowned a little. "Aren't you supposed to ask permission before you photograph someone?"

 

Piper straightened up and addressed me with authoritative confidence. "I shouldn't have to tell you this, Blue, but there is a long and time-honored tradition known as 'paparazzi' that gives journalists the right to photograph subjects that are of interest to the public without first getting their permission. This is an obvious example of that."

 

"The 'right of papazarri,' huh?"

 

"Exactly."

 

"Piper, you are remarkably, confidently, incorrect. But that's a discussion for another time." I turned back to the Nightingale. "Thank you again for respecting our customs. Don't let me hold you up any further."

 

The woman shoved her bundled clothes into the guard's arms before trudging into the diner. "Don't lose any of that," she called over her shoulder.

 

Tangentially, Piper gave me a copy of the photo after she had it developed. Years later, I had it framed and put in my office as a reminder of the good old days. 

 

 

With that situation put to bed, we hit the road, heading west towards Concord. We didn't run into trouble on the roads, but we could see signs of past trouble - burned our wrecks of robots that hadn't been there last time. Still, we arrived safe and sound and as we approached the gates I turned to Piper.

 

"What do you think?"

 

"I don't know, Blue, the place looks kind of run down. Except for the wall, of course, I'd be lying if I pretended that wasn't impressive."

 

"Yeah, Concord's a mess. It'll probably be years before we get it back to anything like it was before the war. Just clearing all the trash and debris is a huge job. But one step at a time it's getting better. Come on, I'll introduce you to the settlers."

 

 

Speaking in the cleanup effort, the first person we ran into was a young woman who was working with a cutting torch to break up some large pieces of metal scrap.

 

"Callie," I said, "how's the job going?"

 

She didn't look away from her work when she answered, "kind of tough, boss. We pulled a bunch of scrap out of-- hey, boss, you're back."

 

"I am, indeed," I confirmed. "And I've brought a reporter from Diamond City. This is Piper Wright, she's going to tell the world about what we're doing here."

 

 

Finally shutting off her torch and turning, she nodded to Piper. "You do the Publick Occurances, don't you? I've read an issue here and there, good stuff. Really sticking it to the bosses." She glanced at me and added, "present company excepted, that is."

 

I shrugged, "I'm sure Piper's gonna stick it to me, too. That's her job."

 

Callie chuckled at that. "Is that so? Oh, and I like the new hair. Red suits you. Hey, now that I think of it, Jake was saying he was looking for you - apparently he's got something important to show you 'when you get back,' which I guess is now."

 

"Thanks," I said. "Piper, you want to talk to Callie more, or you want to come meet Jake, our resident tinkerer?"

 

Callie answered the question, "nothing personal, Ms. Wright, but I'm in the middle of a job. How about we talk later?"

 

"You got a deal," Piper said, and we headed down the main road towards Jake's house. His workshop was set up on the corner just across from the Museum of Freedom, and I knew he lived in an apartment upstairs. At the moment, he was working downstairs, and I waved him down.

 

"I hear you were looking for me, Jake... but I have two questions: why don't you have a Vault Suit yet and why are there skeletons under your table?"

 

 

"Oh, hey there," he drawled in his out-of-town accent. "Well, I'm not technically part of Vault 111 yet, so I don't have a Vault Suit. And as for the skeletons, I figured this was the best place to put them to keep them out of the way."

 

"You're just doubled the number of questions I have," I pointed out.

 

"Didn't expect to be seeing you again so soon. Is something up? It's not the ASAMs, is it?"

 

"ASAMs?" Piper asked.

 

Jake started to launch into his sales pitch for the ASAM sensors and the miracles they could accomplish, but I cut him off before he could go too far.

 

"Callie said you were looking for me," I explained.

 

 

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. In a way then, it is the sensors that bring you here."

 

"Is there something wrong with them?"

 

"No, no, hardly. With a little planning and proper supervision, they practically run themselves. No, what I mean is... so most folks are always complaining that they're too complicated. Which is bunk, but I digress. But your folks, Charley, they keep asking for more."

 

"I remember talking with Lily when she moved down here from Ridge. I think she had some good ideas about using the ASAMs to build stores and other businesses, but I'm not sure how to accomplish it."

 

"Well that's just it. In order to--"

 

 

Jake was cut off as Old Paul barreled into the workshop.

 

"R-raiders!" he stopped, leaned forward, and caught his breath for a moment before continuing, "Hurry!"

"Slow down, take a breath for God's sake," I said, "tell me what happened."

 

"Back at the settlement!" he continued unabated, "a whole bunch of them rolled into town. They've taken hostages!"

 

 

"The settlement? You mean here in Concord?"

 

"No, no..." he caught his breath again, "Ridge! They hit Ridge this morning. I was up there doing some business and I barely got out. Please, you gotta hurry!"

 

"Damn raiders are like radroaches," Jake growled, "you squash one and five more crawl out." Turning to me, he added, "well don't you worry, darling, I got your back.

 

Piper cocked an eyebrow at me, "darling, huh? Just how many lovers do you have, Blue?"

 

"Not now," I hissed.

 

 

"You helped me with my raider problem," Jake continued, "I'll help you with yours. Only right."

 

"Alright," I said, "let's go."