It pretty quickly became clear that the quarry wasn't going to be the sort of job that Winter and I could handle on our own. Unlike the site near Concord, the raiders here seemed to have set up a much more defensible position - and more problematic, they had at least one suit of power armor. I knew from past experience that even with Winter in the power suit, we'd have some difficulty facing that sort of firepower one-on-one. On the other hand, I also clearly remembered the battle near Natick and how with Red's Rangers backing us up, force of numbers had let us overcome the armor. 

 

 

We pulled back to the river, and while Winter and Heather discussed our options for attacking the raider camp, I got on the radio with the Minutemen. My Pip-Boy was well out of range to contact Preston, but I was able to connect with the squad that had set up at the Slog. I walked them through what we had to contend with at the quarry, and after some further discussion of the details, they agreed to join me in the attack. I got the impression that the garrison commander wasn't thrilled about launching an attack this far from supplies or reinforcements, but they also had to concede that not just Greentop, but even the Slog itself was a prime target for these raiders' river attacks. 

 

With the Minutemen backing us up, taking the quarry was a hard fight, but it wasn't the kind of reckless, no-mistake-allowed operation it would have been if we'd tried to storm it without their help. The operation started with simultaneous attacks against the outbuildings on the lip of the quarry, neutralizing the raiders' quick reaction force before they could gear up and also neutralizing the control system for their turrets. From there, we pushed down the sides towards the main camp at the bottom. As we'd expected, that power armor suit proved to be the biggest challenge, but one we were able to pin it down with suppressing fire from multiple sides before one of the Minutemen, armed with a heavy flamer, was able to close in and cook the pilot inside his armored shell.

 

 

While the Minutemen secured the site and looked for any surviving captives, Winter, Heather, and I cautiously entered an excavated section of the quarry wall, looking for any holdouts from the raider gang. Almost immediately we found signs that put us on guard - butchered corpses hung up like sides of meat. By now I wasn't too surprised to discover that raiders were engaging in cannibalism, but it still put me on guard. The way I saw it, cannibal raiders were more like super mutants and human beings, and I had to expect the same kind of danger from getting their backs against the wall that I'd expect from the supers. 

 

 

And there were indeed raiders down there. At first, they were totally unprepared for us, and we picked them off one by one as we descended into the marble halls. That resistance got a bit more organized as we proceeded, but they were still attacking is piecemeal when the three of us broke into their makeshift command post. It was located at the bottom of a shaft that we could only access by a spiral of scaffolding. As we descended, we kept firing down into the pit and one by one the raiders went down. By the time I set foot at the bottom, the one remaining raider threw down her gun and put up her hands in surrender.

 

I recognized that this raider might have valuable intelligence, but I also didn't feel especially motivated to take her alive after what I'd seen on the way down. I decided to split the difference by sending her to the floor with a butt-stroke from my rifle. 

 

 

I'd kind of hoped that the move would have crushed her skull and finished her off right there, but it was clear she was just stunned. So, a bit reluctantly, I snapped a shock collar around her neck and asked Winter to help me search her. After concluding she didn't have any concealed weapons, I ordered her to follow up and keep quiet if she didn't want me to activate the collar. If she had anything to say, however, she kept it to herself. She was filthy and gaunt, and she'd slathered on face paint to create the impression of a skull. It vaguely reminded me of Willy Bones, the raider we'd captured during the attack on Concord and who'd volunteered to put on the punishment suit as part of her rehabilitation. However, Willy had mostly been a victim of her circumstances. From what I'd seen in those tunnels, I doubted the same could be said for my new prisoner.

 

 

What my prisoner wouldn't tell me, however, the log files in her computer did. Her name was Bedlam, and she wasn't your ordinary raider. Bedlam was part of the cult that had taken over Saugus Iron Works. Their leader, Slag, had dispatched her here to whip the local raiders into shape and resume extraction of iron ore for Saugus. Part of that plan, it seemed had been escalating the river raids to secure slaves and supplies. The other part had been brutalizing the local raiders until they started to meet the cult's production quotas. In a sense, I think I owed her some thanks: her back-breaking production pace might have been a factor in the disorganized resistance we'd faced down here in the tunnels.

 

At the same time, the revelations about Saugus confirmed to me that striking this camp was the right decision. If Saugus had enough strength to reach beyond its boundaries and set up subsidiary sites like this, then they had the potential to threaten the Slog and any other settlements in the area. Sooner or later, this was going to put Concord into direct conflict with them, but disrupting their supply of raw materials and bringing the farm at Greentop into my orbit would go a long way towards containing them... for the moment, at least.

 

The terminal entries also revealed that we'd effectively reached the end of the line. Beyond this shaft, the tunnels were full of feral ghouls ('and worse'), and the raiders had been having a lot of trouble clearing them out. While I was curious what the depths of the quarry might reveal, I recognized that we'd accomplished our goals, and clearing out the ghouls would just be doing a fvor for whoever came here next. Much as I would have liked to take the quarry for Concord, it was too far east for us to realistically protect it.

 

So, prisoner in tow (and a few survivors, too), the Minutemen returned to the Slog and my group continued on to Greentop. As you can imagine, they were delighted to hear that the raiders wouldn't be troubling them anymore. Moreover, some of Red's Rangers had already arrived at the farm and set up a watchtower that gave them a good view over the approaches to the farm. I have to admit, I'd been a little worried about bringing in Red's people, but they'd apparently made a good first impression and the farmers had welcomed them with open arms. 

 

 

That evening, after enjoying a good home-cooked meal, I got to talking with Trish Paisley about the future. Trish, along with her husband Amos, was the owner and long-time boss of the nursery, and she had a mix of enthusiasm and trepidation about joining up with Concord. The first signs of that had come out when I was helping them choose the colors for their vault suits. Red's people had brought a copy of the firmware we were using at Sanctuary, and it included everything we needed to get rolling with the farm - and the vault suits were no exception to that. Trish had hesitated to get started with that, explaining to me that at first she'd taken the Ranger's talk about 'cocks out for Charley' as a joke. 

 

I explained to her the thought process behind our dress code, and while she acknowledged she understood our goals, she still seemed unsure. I suggested then that we first pick out the colors and then talk about her concerns with the suits, since she might feel differently if she got a chance to try it on. Hesitantly she agreed, and after look through our options she settled on a forest green coloring similar - but not identical - to what Connie and Blake had chosen. After we waited for the Workshop to spit out the first suit, I encouraged her to try it on and, after some more hemming and hawing, she started to undress. 

 

"For what it's worth," Amos opined, "I think it looks good on you."

 

Trish half-heartedly slapped him on the shoulder, glowering, "of course you would, you old pervert. This looks awful - shows off all my wrinkly bits." She giggled then, but I'm pretty sure it came more from discomfort than amusement.

 

I pointed out that there's nothing wrong with how her skin looked. "It's a sign that you've survived and persevered," I reframed, "and it's something people are going to respect. Actually, do you mind if I touch your back?"

 

"Um, sure?" she said, clearly uncertain. I reached around her, letting my fingertips trace up and down the part of her back that the suit's cutout exposed.

 

 

"I thought so," I said. "Your skin has a wonderfully complex texture. So sure, you might have a few wrinkles, but it's nothing to feel bad about. You ever make wine or cider with your mutfruit?"

 

She nodded, silently.

 

"You know how it gets better if you age it? I think your skin's just like that. Certainly nothing to be embarrassed about."

 

"Maybe," she said. "I think I still need some convincing. How about you give me some more of that back rubbing?"

 

Amos cleared his throat at that. "Now, now, Trish," he said, "I think that's my job, isn't it?"

 

Trish laughed, then smiled to her husband. "Fine, Amos, how about you put on this ridiculous outfit and show us where you're all wrinkled up."

 

He offered a perverse smirk at that comment, answering, "well, dear, if you insist..."

 

But anyway, I'm digressing. While Amos and Trish finished changing - and possibly getting into some monkey business after I left them alone in the greenhouse - Winter and I handed out vault suits and Neural Sentries to the other farmhands, then we settled in for dinner. And, as I started to explain earlier, I started talking about the future with Trish and Amos. 

 

At the heart of that discussion was the role that Greentop would play in the eastern part of Concord's sphere of influence. The nursery was undoubtedly going to be an important fixture of the region; not only did it produce a large amount of food, but it occupied a strategic position between Malden and Saugus. Controlling the area would allow potentially allow us to open a safe trade route from Cambridge to Wakefield, and then west to Tenpines Bluff. This project would take time and effort, but eventually it would give us an alternate path to bypass the raiders in Lexington to access the whole eastern region. 

 

 

I got the impression that Trish and Amos weren't especially excited about or even interested in the big strategic picture. Their priority was to keep their farm safe and productive, and as long as my plan would accomplish that, they were on board. They also liked the idea of rebuilding the old house, which was plagued with leaks in the roof and was almost unlivable during the warmer times of the year due to mold and fungus growth. I was pretty certain we'd need to raze the whole structure and start from scratch, but with the unlocked Workshop files, we could do it. Again, it would just take time. I did suggest a two- or three-story version, like what we'd built to replace many of the wrecked homes in Sanctuary, and they liked that - especially if it had a sun room like Stef's house.

 

They were sad to hear about what happened at Breakheart Banks, but glad to hear Wiseman had taken in the survivors. Trish told me she would have taken them here as well, but she freely conceded that the Slog had better facilities and was probably the right place for them to settle. Moreover, knowing that Wiseman was open to working more closely with non-ghouls pleased her. She explained to me that when she'd traded with them in the past it had always felt kind of uncomfortable, like the Slog folks still had some simmering resentment from being kicked out of Diamond City. If they were turning the corner there, she was happy to hear it.

 

Eventually the 'shop talk' wound down and we found ourselves pivoting to talk about my own recent adventures. I stuck to the highlights - Shaun's kidnapping, freeing Concord from the raiders, the war against Kellogg, and finally the discovery that the Institute had taken my son. After covering those bases, I talked about how my search for Piper Wright had taken me up to the Slog, and how now I was basically chasing Doctor Wolfe's tracks towards County Crossing. 

 

"You don't say," Amos commented. "I think we met your Doctor Wolfe maybe a day before you first showed up. Her first name was Suzan, with a 'z', right?"

 

I nodded. "That's her. I can't believe I didn't ask you earlier - was she still headed for County Crossing?"

 

"Don't feel too bad," Amos said, "we started unloading our problems on you more or less as soon as you rolled in, so it's understandable. She only stopped by for lunch, but it did sound like she was heading for the Crossing. Wanted to talk to Bessy down there."

 

"Bessy?" I pressed.

 

Amos wrinkled his face a little, and Trish finished for her. "Bessy's... she's a strange one. Got too much rads as a child, I hear, and now she's got feet like a brahmin, cloven hooves and all. I only talked to her once or twice, and she seemed nice enough, but... well, I don't want to sound prejudiced, but mutants always give me the willies. Still, that's who Doctor Wolfe was looking for."

 

And just like that, I had the next bread crumb to follow. We rested the night at the nursery, and as soon as morning broke I gathered up Winter and Heather and got ready to head south towards County Crossing. 

 

 

The morning mist made for an eerie scene as we followed Route 1 down towards our destination. At one point we exchanged fire with a patrol of super mutants right near where Main Street crosses Route 1 - probably ranging out from Malden - but we were able to push them back and continue our journey. I made a note to myself to talk to Preston about patrol routes in the area, but my goal at the moment was to reach County Crossing. 

 

The Crossing was a rest stop for caravanners that the Bunker Hill Cartel had set up years ago. I'm told that at one point there were plans to turn it into a walled caravanserai that would offer warehousing and trans-shipping services to points north, similar to the role Goodneighbor played between Bunker Hill and Diamond City, but those fell through after the main trade partners in New Hampshire started to slide into chaos. That was also the start of hard times for County Crossing, and by 2288 the trading post had fallen into ruin, leaving little behind except for a rough campground and a small farm run by the groundskeepers. I say 'groundskeepers,' but at that point it was more like 'squatters,' since Bunker Hill had cut off any material support years ago and no longer officially considered it part of their caravan network.

 

John Peterson was the lead groundskeeper, son of the last Bunker Hill-backed mayor. He was friendly enough when I greeted him, but he made it clear right away that the campground was only for caravanners, 'no scavvers allowed,' as he said.

 

 

"That's alright," I told him, "I'm not looking to stay for long. I'm looking for a woman who might have passed through - name's Suzan Wolfe. Is she here?"

 

Peterson shook his head, "the only doctor who comes 'round this way is Doc Weathers. To tell you the truth, ever since Simpson holed up in the old training yard, he haven't got many visitors at all."

 

"Simpson?" Heather asked, "you mean Bob Simpson? The guard?"

 

"Yeah, how'd... fuck, Heather, why did you say you were with pinky here?" Peterson turned to her and his eyes seemed to run up and down her body quickly. "You've been maintaining that slim figure, I see."

 

She smirked at his comment. "Eyes up here, pal. And it's my invigorating tea - it gives me the pep to keep the weight off. You want to buy some?"

 

Peterson smiled broadly, slowly shaking his head, "always looking for customers, huh? Maybe another time. I'm pretty strapped until the next caravan comes in." Then he turned back to me, "Casdin's right. Bob Simpson used to be the leader of our little guard force here. Just him and a couple other washed up caravan guards, really, but they helped a lot. But Bob... I think his brain finally started rotting out, and he ran off with a couple other ghouls, talking about secret files up at the yard, or something like that. Whatever he was looking for, I don't know if he found it, but now he's taken to raiding... and on top of that, the yard's swarming with ferals. I don't suppose..."

 

"Let me guess," I said, "you want me to kick him out?"

 

"Aw, look, I know you're legit if you're with Casdin, so don't take it like I'm trying to screw you. But having raiders and ghouls all over this place is the last straw for the caravans. And I hate to say it, but if your friend was coming this way from the north, they might have grabbed her. So I'm just saying... if you head up that way to look for her, maybe shoot anything that moves?"

 

I looked over to Heather, asking, "thoughts?"

 

She shrugged, briefly giving Peterson an apologetic look. "I think that's kind of a stretch, Bob. She was coming here to talk to a woman named Bessy. Is she here? We should talk to her before we go haring off after Simpson."

 

"She's down in Bunker Hill right now. Or rather, she should be on her way back. Maybe you guys want to pay Simpson a visit while you wait for her?"

 

Now it was Heather's turn to ask me my thoughts. "What do you think? I know you don't owe these folks anything, but I wouldn't mind taking down some more raiders."

 

"It does seem like the neighborly thing to do," I conceded. "Winter, you ready for another fight?"

 

My wife-to-be nodded in agreement. "Yeah, getting a little low on stimpaks though. We'll need to stock up next time we're in friendly territory."

 

"You could try my rejuvenating tea--" Heather started, but Winter cut her off.

 

"I know you've got a tea for every problem, Heather," she said, laughing, "but I don't think the backpack on this suit is set up to handle that kind of medicine. Though... I don't know? Cain was able to program it on the fly with new drugs. Maybe we should ask her when we meet back up with her."

 

"That actually sounds like a worthwhile question to ask," I said. "I'd like to understand the limits of that system a little better. But for now, if you two have no objections, let's help these fine folks with their raider problem."

 

The National Guard Training Yard wasn't too far from County Crossing. Once upon a time, it had been a large chunk of forested green space owned by the City of Revere, but the National Guard had requisitioned the space for use as a woodland training center. Ostensibly, it was for training our guys to fight in mainland China, but a lot of folks back then suspected it was really for training the Guard to crack down on rural folks in the Appalachians who were getting increasingly restive about robots replacing them on the job. In any event, we were just getting ready to enter the grounds when I caught a glint of something in my peripheral vision. I gestured for my companions to get into cover, and a moment later we saw uncomfortably familiar black-clad figures moving down Salem Street in our direction. 

 

 

"Synths," Heather whispered. "And they're heading for County Crossing. We have to take them out."

 

I couldn't disagree on that score. We waited quietly for them to get a little closer, then I tossed a grenade into their midst while Winter and Heather opened fire. The synths weren't expecting an ambush, and we gunned them down without much difficulty. Unfortunately, whatever they were up to remained a mystery - they didn't have any documents or other clues on their bodies. After finishing our examination of the destroyed synths, we pressed into the yard, looking for Simpson... and for any sign of Doctor Wolfe.

 

As you can imagine, the interior of the place was completely trashed. Picking our way through the ruins was a strenuous process, further complicated by the large number of feral ghouls hiding out there. We took a careful approach, making sure to avoid getting separated and supporting each other whenever possible, and by taking that approach we were able to slowly push through the building one room at a time.

 

 

We gave up on calling out to Simpson, and to Wolfe, after the first few waves of ferals. After that, we kept quiet and shot first, and with that approach we slowly worked our way up to the second level. It was a bit more intact - though still severely decayed and damaged - and we started spending a bit more time looking for signs of habitation or clues as to what we going on here. And on that topic, one thing that stood out to me was how all the ferals were dressed in army fatigues. I checked with Heather and she confirmed that this area hadn't been an especially active ghoul nest before. It made me wonder... were these ferals drawn by some thing, maybe a triggered memory of their past lives... or were these latter-day mercenaries who'd gone feral more recently.

 

"Heh, found something," Winter said. "Mass Surgical Journal."

 

"Ooh, let me see," Heather whispered. "You can learn a lot from those."

 

I backtracked to the office those two were searching and glanced briefly at their booty.

 

 

"I'm not sure exactly what I'm supposed to learn from this one," I admitted. "You think you need a prescription tongue piercing, Heather?"

 

She gave me a dirty look. "As if. No, but seriously, these old medicine books are really helpful sometimes. Most of what's in them is no good... either you can't find the tools they talk about, or you can't find the chems, or you don't have the right robot, or something else, but piece together a little detail here or a fact here, and it might help when you least expect it. That's how I 'cracked the code' on my invigorating tea, you know. There was an article about medicine from plants, and I realized the mutated ferns you see all over the place further west sounded a lot like something in the article."

 

I took that in for a moment. "Alright, I guess we should take it and give it a thorough review when we have time later. I always thought books like this were just advertisements for the pharma industry."

 

"The what?" Winter asked.

 

"Ah, Chem dealers basically. I'll tell you about it later. Let's find this Simpson character."

 

The upstairs part of the building was almost a bust, the journal notwithstanding. We found a few documents that seemed to suggest Simpson had been trying to set up some sort of mercenary operation here, but it was fragmentary and didn't make  lot of sense. Still, it did point towards the origin of all these military ghouls. More importantly, we found a yellowed, folded-up paper in a desk. I almost mistook it for trash, but the seemingly random numbers and letters on the visible part caught my eye. Unfolding it carefully, I saw that above the scramble of characters was the word password. I didn't see anything on the second floor that it seemed to go to, other than some burnt-out computer terminals, but I hung onto the note in case I'd need it later.

 

Before we could find a use for that password, however, I found something out or more immediate interest. We'd headed back down to the first floor, checking some rooms we'd initially bypassed, when we came across an unexpected sight - the corpse of a woman wearing a Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit.