Almost as soon as we crossed the Boston city limits, it became clear that things hadn't changed for the better. Hearing gunfire, I unslung my shotgun and moved forward, carefully, to investigate. What I found was a fight between raiders and robots, with a caravan caught in the middle. Piper and I tried to take some of the pressure off the caravan, and we succeeded in pushing the raiders back into a cluster of houses. That, in turn, gave the caravan the breathing room they needed to urge on their brahmins at a fast trot and get clear of the conflict.

 

Unfortunately, now we were caught between the raiders and the robots, and the odds didn't look great. Moreover, we were hearing even more gunfire in the distance. Piper and I ran down the row of cookie-cutter houses, looking for a side street or some other way to break out, and finally we saw a spot where a large section of back yard hedge had been burnt away by a long ago fire, and broke though it -- only to find myself face to face with an armed man.

 

 

I almost pulled the trigger until I saw the vault security helmet on the man's head.

 

"Drop the weapon, hands on your head!" he shouted, pointing his own gun towards me.

 

"Hold it, we're friendlies!" then, hissing, I said, "fuck. OK, I'm going to slowly lower my weapon." A heartbeat later, I did so, and the guard seemed to relax. I gave him a quick look over, and I wasn't too impressed. His helmet and backpack were vault issue, for sure, but his clothes were ragged and his body armor looked like something scrounged up in the Diamond City market.

 

"Identify yourself," he said.

 

"I'm Charlotte Ellison, Overseer of Vault 111."

 

"Yeah, and I'm Santa Claus. Try again."

 

"A little help here, Piper?" I asked over my shoulder.

 

"She's who she says she is," Piper addressed the guard, "I'm Piper Wright, you know, Publick Occurrences? I've been travelling with her for the last week for a story."

 

"Whatever," the guard said, "tell it to the boss. You're both coming with us."

 

I almost asked 'who's us?' but the continued intensification of the gunfire along with movement in my peripheral vision told me the guard was indeed not alone. Rather than press the issue, I agreed, and we walked with the guards back in the direction of Vault 81. As we approached, I could see that some things had changed since the last time we'd been here. The dirt track that led up to the vault had been cleared of debris, and a guard tower stood watch over the entrance. I could see floodlights further up the hill that spoke to additional improvements closer to the entrance.

 

 

"Good day, ma'am," a modulated voice called from the tower. I looked up, and saw Ada looking down from the raised platform. Our escort also looked to her, a questioning look on his face.

 

"You know this scavver, Ada?"

 

"Why I do indeed," she cheerfully replied. "This is Charley, late of Sanctuary Hills. I'm told she's something of a local celebrity."

 

Now it was the guard's turn to mutter a fuck under his breath.

 

I turned to him and shrugged, "no hard feelings. You were just doing your job."

 

"Ah, you still better talk to Mansfield," he said. "Otherwise nobody'll believe my report."

 

I caught up briefly with Ada before heading inside. She explained that while Vault 81 also lacked the resources to assault the General Atomics facility, she had at least convinced them of the danger the robots represented, and they had started recruiting to bolster their security forces. The new recruits were mostly drawn from caravan guards and from a few locals who earned MacNamara's trust. Ada seemed, if not happy, at least less troubled, and I felt better about what had really felt like sending her away.

 

"You know, Ada," I suggested, "if you want to spend some time with some friendly robots, you should visit Graygarden. That farm is very impressive."

 

"So I'm told," she agreed. "I had a very illuminating talk with Supervisor Brown when he called on Overseer MacNamara a few days ago. Perhaps when this threat is put to rest, I'll visit them. I expect it would be refreshing."

 

My interview with Mansfield was mercifully brief, starting with a sneer and ending with a sigh.

 

 

"Charlotte Ellison, what a surprise. Please tell me you're going to keep your clothes on this time," he sneered as I entered his office.

 

I explained our encounter with the guards, confirmed their story, and even complemented him on the improved defenses at the vault entrance.

 

"Well... thank you? You have no idea how difficult it is to hook up exterior plumbing to the Vault's water supply. Katlin really is a miracle worker."

 

"Um, I actually have some idea and yes, it's a nightmare. But what does that have to do with the guards?"

 

"Oh, you didn't see? I suppose you didn't. I was talking about the running water we provided for the caravanserai. It's been a huge success with our visitors."

 

"Caravanserai, huh? And I thought I had a reputation for twenty dollar words."

 

Cedric sighed. "No, Ellison, you are not in fact the only educated person in the Commonwealth. There are one or two others. Thank you for cooperating with our patrol... and thank you for upholding our agreement. But I imagine you have your own business to attend to, so you're free to leave."

 

We didn't stick around, though I did peek about the 'caravanserai' - a title it had no business claiming until it was a lot more secure - and I found the running water. One of the shacks - the one that had been the combination storage room/outhouse when I was last here - had been cleared out and turned into an enclosure for a sort of wellhead that appeared to be kludged together out of radiator parts and irrigation tubing. Still, if it works it works, right?

 

 

After our unplanned detour to Vault 81, it was late in the afternoon when we finally approached Fenway Park. We hadn't had any further encounters with raiders or robots, and we'd deliberately avoided the spots where we knew super mutants were operating. That didn't mean we had a straight shot to Diamond City, however. Just before we turned onto Van Ness, a sudden shift of nearby rubble put me on guard. Even as I was drawing my sidearm, a swarm of giant roaches boiled out, and Piper and I had to scramble up on an embankment to avoid being immediately overwhelmed.

 

Fortunately, roach carapace is no match for hot bullets, and we scared them off fairly quickly. It felt like a waste of ammo, but I also didn't really relish getting chewed on by radroaches, so I guess it couldn't be helped.

 

 

The DC guards didn't give us any trouble at the gate, waving us right in.

 

Piper looked at me with a mischievous grin, "looks like shacking up with you has all kinds of benefits."

 

"I aim to please," I mumbled, chuckling.

 

As soon as we'd come down the stairs into Diamond City proper, I heard a rustle of papers and saw Nat Wright coming towards us at full tilt, abandoned news copy settling on the ground behind her.

 

"Piper!" she said "you came back!"

 

The sisters locked into a tight embrace, as Piper said, "of course I'm back, Nat."

 

 

I took a walk around the marketplace while the Wrights caught up with one another - I just had a feeling they needed a little privacy. Then, as the sky started to darken, I joined them in the back of Publick Occurrences, and we talked about the future.

 

"Nat," Piper said, "I've been thinking about what I want to do with the paper... with my life, really. I want to open a new office in Concord, move the press there, make that our headquarters. Charley's guaranteed that we won't have any interference with our work. And I want you to come with me."

 

"Really? You're not joking?" Nat seemed a little flummoxed, "But I've never been outside Diamond City. This is my whole world."

 

"I know," Piper said, "and I know I'm asking a lot. But you're the only sister I've got, and I don't want to leave you. Plus," and her face darkened a little, "I'm not sure Diamond City is safe anymore."

 

"Not safe? Do you mean like 'there was a hole in the wall and the guards hid it behind a bookcase' unsafe, or 'super mutants are coming over the walls in an hour' unsafe?"

 

 

Piper looked over to me and I answered for her. "Probably half-and-half. I've been talking with the Overseer at Vault 81, to say nothing of using my own eyes, and things in Boston are fragile right now. One thing goes wrong, and everything could come toppling down. I'm trying to avoid that, and I think the 81ers are finally convinced they need to do something too, but things could get a lot worse before they get better."

 

"Shit," Nat said, her eyes shining, "that's the scoop of the century. Piper, are we putting this in the paper?"

 

I was tempted to answer with a 'no, it'll just cause panic' type speech, but I was pretty sure that was the exact worst thing I could do on a bunch of different levels, so I shut up and let Piper field the question.

 

"I'm not going to run it as tomorrow's headline, if that's what you mean. There's too much we still need to find out, too many leads to chase down. I've been doing some of that with Charley, and her help has been huge."

 

"And what about the press? How are we going to move it?"

 

I fielded that one, "we'll either hire a caravan to haul it up to Concord, or we'll fabricate a new one right there."

 

"What do you mean, fabricate?" Nat asked.

 

I very briefly described the Workshop and what it could do, and Nat seemed suitably impressed. But I forestalled her questions for the moment with a raised hand, explaining that if she moved to Concord I'd set aside time to show her the Workshop in detail, but this wasn't the time to get into it.

 

"And if I do go to Concord," Nat pressed, her curiosity seemingly kindled, "is it true what they say about living there? That, like, everyone's naked? All the time?"

 

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that," I started, then changed tack to approach the question directly. "Citizens of Vault 111 wear vault suits, but those don't cover much. We do require visitors to undress completely. It solves so many problems with smuggling, to say nothing of people coming into town with guns or wearing body armor."

 

"Probably solves problems with getting surprised to find out your boyfriend has a small dick," she mused.

 

 

"Nat!" Piper snapped.

 

"I guess that's true in a sense," I agreed, "nobody's body is a mystery up that way. But it also isn't as important. You're a reporter, right Nat?"

 

She nodded, then, frowning, conceded, "I want to be a reporter. I'm mostly just selling papers though."

 

"You know how people get all hot and bothered when McDonough's keeping secrets, really want to expose them and find out what he's hiding?"

 

"Hell yes," she affirmed. 

 

"But then when you make your big expose, after a few days people don't care so much. Sure, when you catch him doing something really rotten then there's a backlash, but most of his just everyday lazy, pathetic, sloppy business? It's just not so exciting out in the open."

 

Piper frowned, "that's the worst part of the job."

 

"That's how it is living in Concord. You'll probably get all hot and bothered with anticipation on the way up there, but once you've been wearing the vault suit for a week, you'll wonder what the big deal was about. Ask Piper, she'll back me up."

 

"Piper? You got naked in Concord?" Nat looked amazed at the revelation.

 

Piper smacked me on the arm, "you didn't need to volunteer that. But yes," she said as she turned back to face Nat, "I had everything hanging out the whole time, and nobody gave me a hard time. It was kind of nice once I got used to it, actually."

 

We talked about more prosaic matters for the rest of the evening, working out what needed to happen to set up a newpaper in Concord and what timeline Nat would follow in arranging the move. Ultimately, we agreed that Nat would stay in Diamond City until the printing press and the big sign were ready to move - we'd contract with one of the big caravans from Bunker Hill to haul everything first from DC to Bunker Hill, and then from there on to the Drumlin Diner. Once they arrived, Trudy could do the 'last mile' delivery into Concord. We all agreed that this might take a few months to organize and carry out, and in the meanwhile Nat promised that if she didn't feel safe here, she'd get out of town and either ask MacNamara and Mansfield to shelter her as a personal favor to me, or make her was to 111 territory. 

 

With all our plans laid, Piper and I retired for the night; we'd check in with Nick first thing in the morning and see if Dogmeat could help us uncover what happened to Kellogg after he decamped from Diamond City.

 

 

"Well, well, look who made it back," Nick crooned as we walked into his office the following morning. "And Dogmeat, too. Didn't think I was going to see that mutt again."

 

"You know Dogmeat?" I asked.

 

 

"He helped me crack open a case a couple years ago. Old Mama Murphy still kicking around too?"

 

I nodded. "Up in Sanctuary Hills. I had no idea you all were acquainted before."

 

"Yeah, it's a long story. So, shall we try and catch us a mercenary?"

 

"Perfect, what's the plan."

 

"Hey Dogmeat," Nick said, "come take a sniff of this." He offered one of Kellogg's half-smoked cigars to the dog.

 

"Nick, don't give that to the dog, he'll get cancer!" Piper interrupted.

 

"It doesn't really work that..." I started, but Dogmeat in turn cut me off with a loud bark.

 

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that. Show us where it goes, buddy," Nick said. 

 

Standing, he opened the door to his office and Dogmeat trotted out into the alley, with the three of us following right behind. Once we got outside, he turned on his heels and barked excitedly.

 

 

"We'll follow you," I said, "lead the way!"

 

If I'd expected that this 'lead the way' business would involve finding some hiding place inside Diamond City, I was sorely mistaken. Instead, Dogmeat led us on a merry chase out the city gates, down into Boston, and ultimately out past Vault 81. We did our best to keep up, not wanting to lose the scent - literally and figuratively.

 

 

Dogmeat finally stopped at a small pond. Investigating it, we found a ramshackle little pier, maybe somebody's fishing spot. And on that pier? An ashtray with a stale San Francisco Sunlight sitting on it.

 

"Well, well," Nick said, "isn't that interesting."

 

 

We thoroughly searched the area, but other than the cigar it was a bust. Still, Dogmeat seemed alert and excited, and I asked him, "where'd he go next, Boy?"

 

Without any hesitation, Dogmeat barked and dashed off westward, following a broken up stretch of road. 

 

And that's when the Rust Devils jumped us.

 

 

We fought our way through the small patrol, then got clear just in case they had reinforcements waiting. Afterwards, Nick asked me, "so, what do you think the odds are that its a coincidence that our man Kellogg spent a nice relaxing afternoon in a place the Rust Devils are working?"

 

I shrugged, "they might have moved in after he passed through."

 

"Maybe, but something rhymes about this encounter."

 

Eventually Dogmeat's progress led us to a more lurid sight: the apparent last stand of some raiders in a highway underpass.

 

 

"Well, well," I asked no one in particular, "what happened here?"

 

"Ran afoul of the Rust Devils maybe?" Piper asked. 

 

"I was just wondering the same thing. Nick, do you see anything that jumps out at you?"

 

"Machine gun was pointed up at the end. Rust Devils do like using flying robots. But that's not the only explanation. Let's take a closer look at the crime scene."

 

We spent some time going through the carnage, but we didn't find anything that made a real slam dunk. Nick mused as we looked, "everyone here's shot up good. If Kellogg's still here, maybe he got winged too. Dogmeat? See any blood trails?"

 

Uncannily, Dogmeat responded with a bark, then nipped at a bloody rag in the corner. A moment later, he was trotting back up the embankment and start to lead us north along a rail line. After spotting a couple of familiar landmarks, I realized that we were in Cumnock Woods, heading up towards Oberland Station. 

 

"Dogmeat, are you taking us home?"

 

The dog turned and whined at me, then resumed his northward trot. We continued a ways further before a metallic shriek made us spin to face our rear.

 

The Rust Devils were back, and this time with a fucking tank bot. Evidently they'd tracked us from where we took down their patrol, and now they were looking for revenge.

 

 

We did not have the firepower to deal with something like that, and after our initial volley of fire bounced harmlessly off its armored hide, we ran like hell, hoping the woods would slow it down enough that we could get clear. We only stopped when we'd gone quite a ways, sheltering under a bridge and still anxiously waiting to hear the sound of tank tracks. Dogmeat, however, seemed elated, snuffling around and even nipping and tugging at my skirt. After a quick search, I found what had him so fired up - another 'Kellogg vacation spot,' this time with an empty bottle of his favorite beer.

 

"Well, don't we have all the luck," I said.

 

"It's a little spooky," Piper confirmed.

 

Nick had a more rational answer. "You might not have noticed it, but most of the way through the woods, Dogmeat was in front. He led us right to this place."

 

 

"Hey, Nick," I said, changing the subject, "since when are the Rust Devils operating on this side of the Charles?"

 

"Good question," he drawled. "Raiders come and raiders go, they might have got displaced by a new gang, or they might be trying to expand. Of course, if its the latter, that's bad news for the folks down at Forest Grove."

 

"Why do you say that?" Piper said, "I always heard they were scrappy as hell."

 

"That's as may be," the synth agreed, "but the easiest way over the Charles from the west is the dams north and south of town. If you don't want to go that way, you have to take the highway bridge, which is always in somebody's gunsights, or you have to go all the way down to Egret Tours, and that's super mutant country. The one or both of the Forest Grove dams are under raider control, it means that the Grove itself is cut off from Diamond City, and no matter how tough you are, it's hard to survive without supplies."

 

As if he'd been listening to our conversation, Dogmeat led us straight to the southern Forest Grove dam. We didn't see any signs of Rust Devils around, but we did see a lot of signs of feral ghouls - so we took a very cautious approach to the bridge.

 

 

Once we were over the bridge, Dogmeat pressed hard to the west. The visibility was getting worse as storm clouds rolled in and our daylight hours started to fade away, but the dog managed to maintain a pace that we could keep up with. He finally stopped near a highway junction, pointing us to the remains of a robot.

 

"Critical signs," it muttered. "Critical signs. Alert. Apprehending known mercenary. Critical signs."

 

"What have we got here?" I asked.

 

"Error, system corrupt." The robot responded, adding, "I can't feel my legs."

 

 

Nick prodded at a nearby shopping cart. There was a heavy chest inside, and the whole thing had tipped over on top of a sprawled corpse.

 

"It wasn't a robbery," he mused, "this trader must have just got in the way."

 

"Bodyguard robots didn't do so well either," I added. And then I saw it.

 

"Nick, is that what I think it is?"

 

On the chest next to the mumbling, incoherent robot, was a freshly smoked San Francisco Sunlight - the tip still glowing.

 

"I do believe this is what they call, a smoking gun," Nick observed.

 

"I think hey call it a smoking cigar," Piper countered.

 

I noticed her lips twitching a little as she looked at the glowing tip. "Suck on your thumb if you have to, don't even think of touching that stogie, Piper."

 

She narrowed her eyes at me and whispered, "there's something else I'd rather suck on. I know you're not wearing any panties."

 

Nick shook his head, "will you two lovebirds save it for later? We're this close to catching up with Kellogg. Dogmeat," he said, offering the cigar for a sniff, "do your thing."

 

And yes, you guessed it, standing in our way just half a mile further down the road was... another squad of Rust Devils. At least this time they didn't have a tank with them.

 

 

They did, however, have a few well-armored robots, and we had a tough time defeating them. And this time, when all was said and done, we had some prisoners. 

 

I quickly secured both of the surviving Rust Devils, removing their weapons and slapping shock collars on them. Then I asked them in turn, "so who wants to tell me what you know about Kellogg."

 

Both of them glared at me, but eventually one answered, defiant, "are you motherfuckers his friends? You think we'll just roll over after what he pulled?"

 

 

"Oh," I laughed, "I am definitely not his friend. Who knows? If you tell me what I want to know, maybe I'll let you go."

 

They seemed to consider that, before turning to me again. The one with brown hair spoke to me very cautiously.

 

"If you aren't with Kellogg, then why are you asking about him?"

 

"Kellogg has something that's very dear to me, and I want it back," I said, not wanting to give away too much. "We've been trying to track him down to, um, have a little chat."

 

 

"That bald sack of shit kicked us out of Fort Hagen back in February. We've came back at him, but his mercs are making us bleed for every inch of that place, and they're turning it into a God damn fortress. No one knows where he's getting his supplies, but whoever it is, they're loaded."

 

Nick probed a little further, "but it seems Kellogg is out on the loose, doing his Kellogg thing."

 

"No shit," the raider spat. "We've got patrols all over trying to find him, but every time he slips past us. I hear we almost caught him yesterday, took out some of his guys, but then he gave us the slip again."

 

"And what about those folks?" Nick asked, poking a thumb over his shoulder towards the massacred trader and his robots.

 

She shrugged, "not my problem. The probably didn't pay the protection money. That's the way it works. Now you going to let us go, or what?"

 

I considered executing them - they certainly weren't of any further value to me - but somehow I don't think my companions would have approved.

 

"Yeah," I said, disabling the collars, "but I have a message for your bosses. Right now, I am completely focused on Kellogg, and if you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone. Once I have him though, you need to understand and accept that this part of the Commonwealth belongs to me - belongs to Vault 111. And as I bring it back under control, I expect you to find a new stomping ground."

 

She spat on the ground, "just be honest and say you're declaring war on us."

 

I shrugged, "OK, if that's the way you want it. I'll offer you a ceasefire until Kellogg's out of the way. After that, if I run into any Rust Devils on my land, we'll... settle our differences."

 

After we let our prisoners scurry off, Dogmeat led us just a bit more, until we reached a length of chain link fence. I could see it had been broken open in this spot, and that a bloodstained cloth was hanging from a jagged metal pipe. I could also see a no-trespassing sign, and I was pretty certain that this was the perimeter fence to Joint Base Hagen.

 

 

The three of us crossed through the perimeter wall and tried to sneak closer to the fort, but soon we started to see signs of habitation. We heard occasional voices in the distance, the rumble of generators, saw lights and smoke from fires. And then we spotted the checkpoint. Barbed wire and sandbag barriers protected a turret that commanded the approach from the woods. I couldn't see any people there from our hidden position, but I was confident that Kellogg's mercenaries were nearby.

 

 

Turning to Nick, I said, "I don't think the stealth approach is going to work here. If this area is well fortified and protected, sooner or later someone's going to see us."

 

"Don't tell me you're gonna come this far, then give up," he said.

 

"No, I'm definitely not giving up. But lets get back to the perimeter fence." 

 

We slipped back to that boundary, and I switched to the radio controls on my Pip-Boy, dialing the frequency for the Sanctuary radio tower.

 

"Ambler calling Sanctuary," I said, using the callsign we'd agreed on when I left for Graygarden. "Put the Colonel on."

 

I had to repeat the call a few times before I heard Preston's voice answer. "Ambler, this is Colonel. Everything all right?"

 

"Listen," I said, "I'm returning to Central," that is, Concord. "We're going with the Highway Plan. I'll explain everything when I arrive."

 

"Acknowledged, Ambler. But I'll need a good explanation. We were about to make our move on Lionel," the code-name for Bedford. 

 

Switching off the radio, I turned to Nick. "How would you like to visit Concord?" I asked.