OK, we are moving again. The whole story is imported, it's just a matter of posting the chapters one by one. Sorry for the wait, but Ch. 8 is nice and long. So let's cut the chitchat and find out what our beloved Lone Wanderer is up to...


8. Knick-nack: Meeting Legends

Knick-nack’s feet had already been sore from his long journey across the wastes, and he had not been that wild about schlepping even further, but he knew that there were a dozen people in Big Town, half of them defenseless kids, who needed to find a safer place to settle down and fast, so he set out for Megaton before first light. Although he did not have a Pip-boy, there were other navigation devices available, and the Lamplighters had several, so he was able to make the trip in a matter of a few hours.

Unlike many Lamplighters, he had remembered life before his arrival there, which explained why he and his sister had always been a bit friendlier to the occasional visiting “mungo” than the average Lamplighter was. He had even seen Megaton before, back when his mother was still alive. It hadn’t changed much: the robot deputy out front was a little rustier, and the sniper up top was a few years older and considerably more weathered, but overall, it was the same cobbled-together jumble of scrap metal and plane parts that he distantly remembered. As before, the doors clanked open as he approached them.

He looked around the town, momentarily bewildered. Inside, the place had changed a lot more. The bomb was still there, but the puddle of radioactive water around it was gone, and a bunch of handholds had been welded onto it. As if that didn’t make its new purpose clear, several salvaged playground fixtures stood around it, along with a few balls and a tricycle or two. Several buildings appeared to be larger or taller. And, there were more people about: in its pre-Purity heyday, Megaton had housed thirty or thirty-five people. Now, seventy men, women, and children called the town home. There could have been more, but the walls around the city limited its capacity, so other new arrivals were being funneled into Grayditch. Between the two settlements, they were not far behind Rivet City in terms of population.

No one really paid much attention to Knicky, even though he was armed and unfamiliar. Unlike the other two large settlements in the wasteland, Megaton had no rule against carrying long guns in public; indeed, the citizenry were actively encouraged to bear arms. So, at least half the people present had a combat shotgun, hunting rifle, or assault weapon slung. And, most of the rest had handguns in holsters, knives in sheaths, or the occasional bat or ax or nail-studded board. As far as unfamiliarity went, lots of wastelanders stopped in the town for a drink or a mambo session with one of Moriarty’s [censored]s. The town’s barkeep had raised quite a fuss when Mayor Quentin had ordered him to turn Gob loose, but had long since quit whining, as he was raking in more caps than he ever had before.

“Excuse me,” a voice at his side queried. “May I help you find something?” Knicky turned to face a young man with dark hair and penetrating brown eyes. The latter smiled. “My name’s Diego. Have you been to Megaton before?”

“Years ago, once,” Knicky said.

“Then we haven’t met before, we just arrived here three months ago,” Diego stated. “My wife and I, that is. Anyway, what brings you to our town?”

“Uhhh… I’m looking for whoever’s in charge, I guess,” Knicky said. “And I’m also looking for Moira Brown.”

“Moira Brown’s down at the Super Mart,” the young man replied. “She moved her store there last month. Mayor Quentin’s going to be in Rivet City until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Knicky was crestfallen. “Guess I can at least check out the Super Mart, then. Where is it, anyway?”

“Why don’t you rest for a bit?” the young man suggested. “You look like you could use it. And maybe a drink as well; the church houses the town’s aqua pura distribution center, so we have plenty of clean water.”

A cool drink and a chair both sounded really good to Knicky, so he followed the young man. As they reached the building, which had been outfitted with a makeshift steeple, a group of children under the care of a young blond woman spewed out and ran toward the playground.

Knicky asked Diego about the change, and received a rather long story in return. It seemed that before Project Purity had come about, a group of crazies known as the church of Atom had operated out of Megaton. However, with the bomb disarmed and the world returning to life, few wastelanders had any use whatsoever for a religion that considered fiery annihilation to be the greatest good. Upon realizing that they were no longer being taken seriously, Confessor Cromwell and his followers had quietly moved on.

Lucas Simms, by this point, had left his post to take command of the Regulators (Sonora Cruz had been killed in a radscorpion attack on their old headquarters), leaving Daniel Quentin in charge. Having dealt with yet another cult (this one, hard to believe as it was, had been stealing Megaton’s Aqua Pura supply and irradiating it), the new mayor of Megaton had quietly suggested to Rivet City’s Father Clifford that it was only a matter of time before the next wacko showed up, and that a certain former acolyte of his might be a better solution for the town’s spiritual vacuum. The good father hadn’t particularly liked the idea of giving his blessing to a man who had left the priesthood to marry, but had liked even less the idea of leaving over a hundred of God’s children with no spiritual leadership at all. So, Diego and his wife had packed their stuff and hopped a barge to Megaton.

Knicky asked him about the kids he had seen, who were now making use of the playground fixtures. In addition to conducting Sunday services, Diego explained, he and Angela ran a school of sorts for the children of the town, assisted by various townspeople. Billy Creel, ex-wasteland wanderer and adoptive father to one of the kids, taught wasteland survival (this included teaching the older ones to shoot) one day a week. An old lady named Manya taught history on another. Moira Brown took one day a week away from her store to instruct the children on science and repair. “Unfortunately, today’s not that day,” Diego had said.

As Knicky debated whather he should get ready to go, the door opened and admitted a middle-aged but extremely fit woman with a laser pistol on her hip. “Good morning, Diego,” she said. “Is that our visitor from Lamplight?”

“Yeah,” Knicky said. “I’m looking for the mayor.”

“Well, the Mayor’s out of town on business, so I’m looking after the town in his absence,” the woman replied. “My name’s Cross. Brotherhood liason for Megaton, among other things.” Most large settlements had a representative of the Brotherhood of Steel on site; unsurprisingly, Daniel Quentin had asked that his longtime comrade at arms have the duty for his town.

The name suddenly clicked in Knicky’s head. “Wait a minute… you’re her! The star paladin who was with Daniel when he visited Little Lamplight!”

“That’s correct,” Cross assured him. “And I’ve been working with him ever since. Now, if it’s Miss Brown you want, she’s down at the Super Mart. Most of the area’s larger vendors have relocated there.”

“Can you show me where it is?” Knicky asked.

“Sure, I’m heading there anyway,” Cross replied. “Will you still be in the area when Daniel returns? I know he’d like to catch up with you.”

“Right now, I don’t know,” Knicky said. “But I’d like that too.” He turned to Diego. “Thanks for the drink.”

A lot had changed at the Super Mart (full name the Super-Duper Mart) in the past year. Once a raider stronghold, the place was now a thriving port and shopping arcade that handled daily barge traffic to and from Rivet City, as well as commerce for both Megaton and its small but growing sister settlement, Grayditch. Although a lot of the area’s worst threats had been dealt with, water travel was far safer than going over land. Faster, too, now that the steam engine had been rediscovered.

The parth had been as easy to find as Cross said, and it was only about a ten-minute walk to the shopping complex. An impromptu security center had been set up in front of the building, manned by… Knicky felt his knees weaken at the sight. “Holy…”

The figure at the security center stood close to eight feet in height. He probably weighed at least five hundred pounds, none of it fat, with the mottled green skin and heavily distorted features of a super mutant. Rather than the cobbled-together armor worn by most of his species, he wore a super-sized suit of obviously custom-crafted combat armor, which went well with the enormous gatling laser strapped to his back. Strangely, most of the people entering and leaving the shopping complex were scarcely giving the creature a second look, which suggested that he not only posed no threat but actually belonged there.

Cross, seeing the boy tense up, confirmed his suspicions. “Relax. That’s only Fawkes. He joined up with Daniel and me right after our visit to Lamplight.”

“Oh, right,” Knicky said, blushing. He had heard of Fawkes: even though Little Lamplight had no formal contact with other settlements, the scav teams kept their little ears open and so heard lots of stories and rumors. “He’s the one who started the purifier, wasn’t he?”

“The very same,” Cross confirmed. Fawkes had been new to the group at the time, and she had been dubious about entrusting so critical a job to a super mutant, even though the alternative was for one of the humans present to essentially commit suicide. Her suspicions had proven totally unfounded, the huge meta-human had entered the irradiated chamber, unhesitatingly typed in the startup code, and the purifier had rumbled to life. Nowadays, of course, she barely remembered a time when she hadn’t trusted Fawkes absolutely. “Now, he handles security here.”

"Bet you don't have much of a crime problem." Knicky took a closer look at the immense creature, noting especially his armor, which was embossed with the same symbol as Cross’s. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Cross confirmed. “Fawkes is the first non-human ever admitted to the Brotherhood.” They had not had the technology needed to produce power armor in that size, but combat armor was far simpler to construct.

Daniel, Fawkes, and the Brotherhood had worked together closely during the months after Project Purity was initiated. The Enclave was finished off once and for all. Vault 87, discovered as the source for super mutants a short time before, was taken permanantly offline. Fawkes had provided Brotherhood scientists with blood and tissue samples, as well as invaluable insights on the mutation process and the mutants’ organizational structure. With his assistance, the scientists discovered a sonic frequency that didn’t affect humans but drove super mutants into a mad frenzy, causing them to turn on each other. A few weeks of broadcasting it throughout the ruins of the city, and the vast majority of the muties were either fled or deceased. Brotherhood casualties, formerly severe, had slowed to a trickle. Given that Fawkes had been more important in turning the tide than anyone, it would have been absurd for the Brotherhood not to honor him appropriately.

“Moira Brown’s shop is inside there,” Cross concluded. “You can talk with her, then we can see about finding you a place to spend the night.”

Knicky entered the complex. Business appeared to be pretty good: most of the commerce in the two settlements occured there: with lots of merchandise and lots of caps, shopping areas were prime targets for raiders. Therefore, it made sense to keep multiple businesses consolidated in one place. This was doubly true when you had a watchdog like Fawkes available. A large warning sign at the entrance warned that thieves would be dealt with extremely harshly.

Moira Brown turned out to be one of the younger mungos in the building. When Knicky addressed her, she promptly talked to him the way one would normally address a kid Bumble’s age. Knicky gave serious thought to leaving right then, but then an older man addressed her, and she talked to him in the exact same manner, and the next customer after him as well. This was all right then, Knicky decided: as long as she was treating him like she did the grown-ups. Upon hearing that he was from what remained of Little Lamplight, Moira promptly closed up her store and hustled Knicky into a private room, where she eagerly questioned him on what life had been like there while feverishly taking notes. It seemed that she was working on a new, post-Purity edition of the Wasteland Survival Guide, and insights on the rise and fall of the longest-lived settlement in the wasteland (as well as arguably the most unique) was worth losing a bit of business for.

That conversation turned into one about the previous guide, and the adventures and exploits of Daniel Quentin, early in his famed career. It was exciting stuff, too: creeping through the very store they were in when it was a raider stronghold, then running out when the raiders (too many for him to fight alone) discovered his presence. Dodging mines and bullets in a town up north. Swimming to Rivet City for the purpose of getting radiation poisoning. Causing mole rats to explode. Swimming under Rivet City to find its misanthropic founder, and helping the Brotherhood clear raiders out of the local library. And finally, almost getting shot to pieces by protectrons in the old Robco facility. The only thing he had drawn the line at was getting injured for the book: Daniel had gained considerable medical skill from his father and his own experiences, and he had insisted on writing that chapter himself.

Suddenly, Moira looked at the clock and started. “Oh, dear! I almost forgot! The barge will be here soon!”

“Barge?” Knicky queried.

Moira explained as they hurried through the store. Knicky already knew much of it. While Lyons and his men were pushing back the handful of mutants that had survived the sonic purge, Daniel Quentin and his two followers had put together an impromptu task force of Regulators, Reilly’s Rangers, spare Brotherhood Initiates, adventurous Rivet City security guards, and even an Outcast or two, and set about dealing with the other vermin. Evergreen Mills, Talon Company HQ, and Paradise Falls, pockets of evil and lawlessness that had plagued the wasteland citizenry for decades, had been smashed in rapid sequence. Lucas Simms and the Regulators now operated out of Paradise Falls, intercepting the slaver parties who showed up with “fresh meat”. Many of the newly liberated slaves chose to stay there, and the former slaver complex was turning into a boomtown.

Most of the raiders and Talon mercs had died in the attacks, and some had escaped. A few people from each camp, surrounded and vastly outgunned, had chosen to surrender. By the time Paradise Falls was hit, the news had spread, and nearly half of the slavers had given themselves up as well. The prisoners had been something of a problem; since the wasteland had no institutional system of crime and punishment, no one know how to deal with them. There had been talk of killing them all, but wiser heads prevailed. If no system of justice existed, then one needed to be established, and the slavers had already discovered the perfect system for prisoner control. Most of the prisoners were given five- or ten-year sentences, outfitted with high explosive neckwear, and put to work on post-apocalyptic chain gangs. Some of them worked in Rivet City, making more of the ship habitable. Ironically, one of these was Eulogy Jones, who had just a few months earlier proposed selling slaves to the settlement for that exact purpose. Others built additional dwellings in Megaton, or worked to dismantle ruined buildings for useful components. And, the lucky ones were put to work on the salvaged, steam-powered barges that allowed for relatively safe transit between settlements. Servicing steam engines was hard, dirty work, but at least the scenery changed.

Knicky noticed a familiar figure stepping off the large squarish craft that had just arrived, along with a few other passengers. He thought it had to be someone else, Daniel was not expected until the next day, so he stayed where he was, watching and then the cargo was off-loaded in turn, with the prisoners and a few robots performing the hard work as usual. As the cargo from Megaton was laded, the new arrival noticed him, and hurried over. He was minus the prototype power armor and customized plasma rifle (the latter was known as the Green Death; it was rumored that if Daniel had carved a notch in the thing for each kill he made with it, it wouldn’t exist anymore), but the blond mane and piercing eyes were unmistakable.

He stopped in front of Knicky. “Knick-nack? That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Knicky said. “What happened? I heard you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“Plans change,” Daniel replied. “Is it true what they’re saying? About Little Lamplight?”

“Yeah. It’s gone.” Knicky stared at the ground.

Daniel patted his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to have to leave your home. Are the kids on the way to Big Town?”

“We got there last night, and found out the truth about it,” the boy explained. “It wasn’t a happy place for the grown-ups to go after a…”

Daniel’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. You mean to tell me the kids are there now? And they’ve been there since last night?!”

Knicky nodded. “We don’t have anywhere else to go. We’re trying to stay out of sight, like Bittercup suggested, but…”

Daniel swore profusely. “Bittercup may be a little weird, but she’s got a talent for being sneaky,” he said sharply. “I doubt the rest of your group does. The muties’ll be down on the town like bloatflies on a fresh pile of Brahmin crap.” He broke into a jog toward the security station. “Fawkes!”

The huge meta-human turned at the sound of his voice. “My friend! What brings you back so ear…”

“Fawkes, we have a problem. The Lamplighters are in Big Town now. Have been since last night.”

Instantly, Fawkes was all business. “Then we must go at once, and hope it is not already too late.” He fell into step beside the two of them, and Daniel quickened his pace once again. Knicky had to run to remain beside them.

Three-quarters of the way to Megaton, something occured to Daniel: “How’re the kids doing? Is ol’ Macready still running the show?”

“No, R. J.’s dead,” Knicky said. “Deathclaw got him.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, genuinely meaning it. He hadn’t liked Macready much, but had genuinely respected him. He looked after his own and he did what needed doing, and those were qualities that were going to be essential if humanity wanted to rebuild the world.

“He saved us all, though,” Knicky said. “He died, but he took the deathclaw with him.”

“Somehow, I’m not a bit surprised,” Daniel said. As they reached the entrance to Megaton, he called up to the sentry: “Do you know where Cross is?”

“Probably at the center of town. Why?”

“Get word to her to meet us at my house as quickly as possible,” Daniel said tersely. “And get on the horn with Rivet City, tell ‘em we need transport stat. Have them meet us at the Megaton front gate.”

“You got it.” The sniper disappeared from his platform.

Word must have traveled fast, because a breathless Cross arrived at the house while Daniel was still unlocking the door. Most of the place was done up in an attractive pre-war design, complete with rug, coffee table, and shelves stocked with various food and bottles of aqua pura. But one small room was simply, grimly functional. Two suits of Brotherhood-issue power armor hung on the wall. And next to them, weapons: two heavily modified plasma rifles, a deadly-looking flamethrower, a gargantuan super sledge and a pneumatic power fist. There were empty spaces that looked just right for the huge gatling laser and combat armor that Fawkes was wearing; this had once been the armory for the whole team until Fawkes relocated to the Super Mart. Knicky watched in silence as the two seasoned warriors quickly and deftly changed attire, then unlimbered and loaded weapons.

At one point, as Fawkes was securing his super sledge next to his main weapon’s immense power pack, Daniel gently maneuvered Knicky away from it. “Best stand clear,” he said. “That’s a fusion powered capacitor pack. It allows Fawkes’s gatling laser to belt out a couple thousand shots at a time, but it kicks out a few rads. If any of us tried to use it, we’d be dead in ten minutes.”

“Being a meta-human has its advantages,” Fawkes said, and even on his distorted face, Knicky could see the smugness.

“So does being friends with one,” Daniel replied, still aware that had it not been for Fawkes, he would have had to turn on the purifier himself, and would have wound up as an irradiated pile of meat on the control chamber floor.

“If we’re all prepared, then we should set out,” Cross said quietly. “The people we’re hoping to aid may not have much time.”

Daniel nodded. “Agreed. Our ride should be here shortly.” Big Town was at least a three-hour walk, probably closer to four for people in power armor. Fortunately, they had another option. The famed trio hurried out of Megaton, Knicky following along behind them. Within two minutes, there was a thrumming in the air that quickly got louder.

Knicky stared up in amazement as a metal contraption the size of a small house descended from the sky. “Is that one of those… verti-thingies? Like the Enclave used?”

“Yeah, most of them were trashed in the fighting, but the Brotherhood’s salvage teams got a few of them operational again,” Daniel explained. He would have liked to have one based in Megaton, but there was no safe place to park it, and with Liberty Prime still out of service, the vertibirds were too important to risk. ”Knick-nack, I have a job for you. Go to Grayditch and find your old comrade Red. She’s their doctor, so she’ll be easy to locate. I hope we get there before the mutants do, but if we don’t, your friends might need medical aid.”

“You hope?”

“I won’t lie to you. The muties typically launch attacks as soon as it’s dark, so if they’re going to hit Big Town tonight, it’s already on or soon will be. But I know your comrades, they’re not going to give up without a fight. Right now, every second counts, so please don’t argue with me. We’ll take care of your friends. Wait here with Red, and I’ll send the vertibird back for you.” He hopped aboard the machine, and it shot skyward. Toward Big Town.

Knicky sighed, then headed for Grayditch to do as he was instructed. He knew that whatever danger his friends might be facing, those three were the perfect ones to deal with it. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

I suppose you're all wondering, about Angela and Diego, what happened? Did he choose on his own to follow his heart rather than his calling? Or did she get her hands on some ant queen pheremones and force the issue? Well, this might come as a surprise to you, given my usual propensity for laying out backstory, but I really don't know. The reader is invited to make his or her own decision. For me, it is enough that Diego was ultimately able to have his cake and eat it too.

Help is on the way, but darkness has fallen and the mutants are hungry. Will there be any Lamplighters left for Daniel and his crew to save? The answer comes now.


9. Lucy: Under Siege

They had done amazingly well for themselves, Lucy reflected as she peered through the cracks in the walls and watched the huge hulking shapes pace back and forth outside. Their lookout had seen the mutants coming when they were still well out of weapons range, and they had gotten the noncombatants into the heavily fortified clubhouse. The ever-talented Squirrel had gotten the town’s broken sentry bot back online sometime before, and between it and the Lamplighters’ return fire (and Bittercup’s, the mungo fought pretty well when she wasn’t playing the gloom girl), the first wave of muties had been either slain or pushed back.

However, the mutants were desperate; with the consolidation of their favored prey into fortified and protected cities, they were hungry. Moreover, with the mutation facilites in Vault 87 gone, they were less concerned with live prisoners. The second wave, which had come an hour later, was much heavier: larger mutants with better guns. In the savage exchange of fire that ensued, more muties had fallen, but they had received casualties as well. Bittercup and Joseph were badly wounded, Knock-knock was winged, and the bot was reduced to scrap. They had retreated to the fortified clubhouse, and it was quickly surrounded. The walls stopped most of the incoming bullets (5.56 rounds were lousy at punching through solid wood reinforced with scrap metal), but a few got through. No one was seriously hurt, but one of the smaller boys caught a ricochet. His cries of pain seemed to amuse the muties greatly.

The door was almost broken down, and Lucy had ordered that furniture be used to shore it up. At one point, a mutant had tried to force it open by forcing its hand into the crack and prying. Squirrel had acquired a gun from one of the mutants who had perished in the initial attack, and had used it to blast the thing’s hand into ruin. They were more cautious now, but they weren’t leaving. It was just a matter of time, Lucy knew, before they figured out a way…

And not a lot of time. Lucy saw several of them approaching with what looked like a scorched section of telephone pole. She knew how battering rams worked, a group of raiders had tried to use one to knock down the doors to Lamplight. They had actually come up to the door demanding that Macready send every female Lamplighter thirteen and up out the gate, wearing only what nature gave her. In return, they would leave the others in peace. Unsurprisingly, Macready had let his assault rifle deliver his response, and a savage shootout had begun. Amazingly, none of the Lamplighters had died, though two were badly wounded, and the gate had been battered halfway to scrap. But, the raiders had taken enough casualties that there weren’t enough of them left to swing the battering ram anymore. So, they had gathered up their wounded and fled the cavern.

Things would not turn out as happily today, Lucy knew. Only she and one other Lamplighter had ammo left, neither of them had much. With carefully placed fire, they could drop one mutant, two of they were very lucky. She eyed her patients regretfully. Bittercup would have made it; Joseph was stable, but she didn’t know if she could pull him through or not. At this point, it didn’t matter. She tightened her grip on her automatic, a fairly formidable piece under most circumstances, but woefully inadequate for what lay ahead. Ginger and Muttface crouched at her feet, ready to fight to the death to defend their masters. Lucy felt a pang of regret for a litter of puppies who were likely destined to die along with their mother, but there was nothing she could do. The muties were clustering around the improvised ram, fighting over the honor of gripping it. Finally, they had it, and advanced to the door, then brought it back… and one of them literally disintegrated into greenish soup as a bolt of superheated plasma slammed him squarely between the shoulderblades. Daniel Quentin’s famed Green Death had claimed another victim. Another of the monstrosities similarly dissolved a split second later, courtesy of Paladin Cross.

The marauding mutants dropped the ram and turned in disorientation as a glowing scarlet blizzard of laser bolts closely followed the opening shots. One of them dropped in a scorched heap as he was hit by concentrated fire, several others shrieked as they were wounded. More plasma bolts came, from two of the three menacingly advancing figures that had just crossed Big Town’s bridge, two power-armored humans and a hulking figure in the center.

The muties might have been in disarray, but they lacked the sense to panic. The ones with guns sought shelter, while the ones with melee weapons charged. Cross deftly switched weapons, and a roaring tsunami of fire gushed forth, engulfing the latter attackers and incinerating them. None of them got close enough to the new arrivals to even swing its weapon at them, they just collapsed in charred, sizzling heaps. And the other two continued to fire on the gunners. The green monstrosities had ensconced themselves in hiding places, but it wasn’t enough, the fire they were taking was just too accurate, and the weapons too devastating. Quite simply, the battle was never in doubt. Mutant after mutant fell under the onslaught: some burned, some dissolved, all died. The last two survivors had had enough and fled around the corner, but the largest of the new arrivals charged after them, his seventy pounds of unpowered combat armor not slowing him down a bit, and his gatling laser spewing blinding spears of coherent light. Lucy heard the mutants’ strangled screams as they were cut down.

Daniel reloaded his plasma rifle, then slung it. “You took a few hits, Cross. You OK?”

“Yes. The Med-X is kicking in.” Since Daniel had found the modified medical power armor in Old Olney, he had gotten the Brotherhood to make similar modifications to Cross’s suit. If either of them took a hit, the narcotic cocktail would ameliorate their injuries. Fawkes had no such advantage, but didn’t need it: super mutants (and their meta-human cousins) had a natural physiology that included multiple vascular redundancies, rapid endorphin production and highly accelerated healing. That was why they were so hard to kill.

Speaking of which, Daniel addressed his other partner next. “Good work, Fawkes. Are there any more of them?”

“None that I can find,” Fawkes replied in his deep, gravelly voice.

The famed Lone Wanderer nodded satisfaction. “Then go ahead and secure the perimeter.”

Fawkes nodded understanding and went. It had long been their standing procedure whenever they approached a human settlement that Fawkes did not go in until Daniel had assured the people present that he was not a threat. He had no intention of losing his trusted fried to a misunderstanding. Truth be told, it had been unnecessary most of the time: in the latter part of their career, the first question asked when he and Cross entered the town was why wasn’t Fawkes with them.

Daniel approached the door to the clubhouse, Knick-nack and Red advancing in his wake. “Anyone left alive in there?”

Lucy and the other ex-Lamplighters quickly set to work removing the impromptu barricades from the door.

*~*~*~*

A few hours later, things were looking far better. The vertibird had delivered Knicknack and Red, and with help from the latter and Daniel (a skilled medic himself), the two wounded youngsters were reasonably patched up. They had been taken to Rivet City for medical care, not a problem since the aircraft had to return there anyway. Word was that Joseph had regained consciousness and would recover completely in time. Fawkes and Cross had dragged the dead muties some distance away and set them alight with Cross’s Burnmaster, the ominous glow from the huge pyre was visible in the distance. The two were now watching the gate; if any muties showed up late for the party, they would join their comrades on the bonfire. Daniel allowed the Lamplighters first pick of the generous cache of artillery the muties no longer had any need of. Every surviving Lamplighter old enough to shoot now had an assault rifle to call his or her own, and a few spare ammo clips as well. Now, the kids and Daniel were in Red’s clinic, the least damaged building, and discussing what came next.

“I’m afraid it’s true,” Daniel was saying to Lucy as the two of them stood side by side at one of the sinks and washed blood from their hands. “We’re packed in Megaton as it is, and we don’t really have the space to build more houses. We’ve mostly been diverting settlers to Grayditch.” With the ants cleared out, the small cluster of townhouses was suddenly turning into viable real estate again. “They use the same shopping complex, and send their kids to Diego’s school as well.”

“Bryan talked about Grayditch a lot,” Knock-knock volunteered. She had her arm done up in bulky bandages, but would recover completely. “He said it was a pretty nice place, before those ants showed up.”

“Or, I know Rivet City will take anyone who’s willing to work.” The salvaged aircraft carrier had gotten a sizable influx of families with children. They did not have a school yet, but it was only a matter of time until they followed Megaton’s example. Additionally, they had acommodations for children who had no families: when the news got about that Lamplight had stopped taking in kids, orphans had begun migrating there instead.

“That’s where Bryan went, right?” Squirrel said.

“Yeah,” Knock-knock confirmed, then asked Daniel: “Do you know if he made it there safe?”

“He certainly did,” Daniel assured her. “And his aunt was happy to take him in.” Once again, he wished Bryan had thought to tell him that he had living family, it would have saved the boy a rough few months.

“I don’t suppose you know what happened with the others. Eclair and Angela, I mean.” She did not mention Billy; it didn’t occur to her that he could possibly be still alive.

Daniel shook his head. “All I know is that they were with Bryan when he got to Tenpenny Tower.” Aside from occasional quick stops to buy ammunition and other supplies, he had had no contact with Tenpenny Tower since his failed attempt to negotiate with the ghouls who were intent on massacring the place. It was a similar thing with the Brotherhood Outcasts: he had worked for them, but did not have regular contact. In time, the knowledge that Eclair, Angela, and Billy had all found safe homes would filter through the wasteland and reach his ears, but not yet.

“Will any of those places allow us to manage our own affairs?” Knick-nack wanted to know. “Or will we have mungos making all the decisions for us?”

“It depends on where you end up,” Daniel said. “Grayditch doesn’t really have any acommodations for orphans, so you’ll be expected to look after yourself. You’ll have local laws to follow and a mayor, just like you did in Lamplight, she’ll just be older. More to the point, you don’t have to attend school if you don’t want to.” All kids in Megaton were pretty much expected to.

“That sounds all right, I guess,” Squirrel said.

“Or, in Rivet City, if you don’t have a family to look after you, they’ll do their best to find you one,” Daniel added. “There are a lot of decent folks there who don’t have kids and wish they did.”

No one said anything about that; these were Lamplighters after all. Even those who liked that idea (and there were some who did) were not going to admit it in front of their peers.

“You have time to think about it,” Daniel concluded. “We’ll be staying here with you tonight, and we’ll escort you to Megaton tomorrow.”

“Can we take your vertibird back?” Zip wanted to know.

“Sorry, but the vertibirds are for emergencies only. Brotherhood rules.” Even though the machines were kept atop Rivet City (no better place to put an aircraft than an aircraft carrier), they were the property of the Brotherhood of Steel. “From there, you can walk over to Grayditch, hop a barge to Rivet City, or even head out on your own if that’s your choice. No one’ll stop you.”

“I guess that’s OK,” Lucy said. “We should get to bed, then.”

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed. “But I want to talk to you before you go. In private.”

Once the clinic was empty except for them, and they were seated at Red’s table together, Lucy eyed the young man. He was too rugged to be really handsome, but there was something about him. It was silly, she knew, but crushes almost invariably are.

Daniel spoke first. “I haven’t forgotten what you did for me,” he said. On his initial foray into Vault 87 (alone), he had encountered a super mutant hornet’s nest. He had managed to retreat into Lamplight, dazed and leaking blood from multiple wounds, but had collapsed at the entrance. Lucy had arrived and managed to patch him up. Being a kid, she couldn’t repair all the damage, but she had stabilized him enough for him to get back to Megaton for treatment.

“I think you paid us back more than fairly,” Lucy said. After recuperating from his injuries, Daniel had wised up and accepted Star Paladin Cross’s offer to accompany him on his quest, and when they returned to Lamplight, both of them had been laden with food, medical supplies, and even a few toys for the younger ones.

“My point is, you have a talent for medicine,” Daniel said. “And talents should be used.”

“I don’t know if anyone outside of Lamplight will accept a kid for a doctor,” Lucy reminded him.

“I know they won’t,” was the reply. “However, I have an idea.”

*~*~*~*

Lucy had never seen Megaton before, indeed, she had never been more than half a mile from Lamplight. She had been born there, and by the time she was six, Red (still a Lamplighter then) had realized her talent and begun training her to follow in her footsteps. Ergo, she had never been on a scav team, kids with certain talents were just too valuable to send into harm’s way. Seeing so many mungos at once took some getting used to.

Daniel tried not to chuckle as he observed the girl’s reaction to his town. He had lived his entire life underground, just as she had, and his first sight of Megaton had been a culture shock to say the least. “It’s this way, kid.”

Lucy followed him to a rusty metal structure marked “Megaton Clinic” in crude letters. He held open the door for her. “Doc Church! You there?”

A middle-aged black man eyed them both dubiously. “What’s going on? Another of the brats skin a knee?” Kids being kids, one or the other of them was often trundling into the clinic with some minor injury or other.

“No. This is Lucy, she used to be the doc in Little Lamplight,” Daniel said.

“So what is she doing here?”

“I propose a deal, doc,” Daniel said, not bothering with any preamble. “She works here alongside you, helps you patch up the little nicks and scraqes. In return, you teach her what you know about healing more serious injuries.” In terms of technical skill, Church had no equal, which was why Daniel kept him around, former slaver or no. He just had no bedside manner whatsoever.

The older doctor eyed Lucy with interest. “Sounds all right to me.”

“Good,” Daniel said. To Lucy, he added: “OK, it’s done. Work hard, learn, and don’t take any of his crap.”

“Don’t worry,” Lucy said. “I won’t.”

The door opened and one of the school kids entered, fighting tears and losing. His hand was dripping blood all over the floor, but it didn’t look like anything that serious. Doc Church gave Lucy a humorless smile. “Looks like your first patient just showed up,” he told her.

Lucy went over to the youngster in question. “Hi, I’m Lucy,” she said sweetly. “Can I take a look at that?”

two great chapters there oddish. I'm really enjoying this one

Knock-Knock died? :sadvaultboy:

QUOTE: Knock-Knock died? :sadvaultboy:

Uh, no. "Winged" means "received a minor wound". Reread the chapter. Or read this one. she appears in both, very much alive.


QUOTE: two great chapters there oddish. I'm really enjoying this one

Well, here's more to enjoy. This one's a bit short, as are the remaining ones. I kind of ran into the New Vegas deadline.



10. Squirrel: Grief Amid Hope

Knock-knock eyed her brother uncertainly. “You know, I don’t have to go, I guess. I mean, I could stay here…”

“But you don’t want to,” Knicky told his sister gently. And they both knew it was true. Yes, the two of them had worn identical hats, carried identical guns, and possessed similar names. But it wasn’t just their gender that was different: where Knicky had fully adjusted to a life without advlt involvement, his sister had not quite gone that far. She did well on her own, but still fondly remembered a time when she had had a family and the world had seemed safe. That was why she so enjoyed reading that ridiculous book of Vault Boy Jokes. It wasn’t because the jokes were good, that was for sure. “Besides, the little ones need you to help look out for them. Joseph’s going to be off his feet for awhile.”

“But what about you?” his sister wanted to know.

“There’s a bed in the men’s common house, in Grayditch,” Knicky told her. “I got enough caps saved up to stay there awhile. And Moira says I can help her out until I have enough caps to start out on my own.” Best of all, common room dwellers were left to their own devices as long as they followed Grayditch’s few laws, regardless of age. Knicky wouldn't even be the youngest one residing there.

Daniel had been standing at a respectful distance, waiting for the two to finish their good-byes, even though they weren't really going that far apart. “Co’mon, kid,” he said gently to the girl. “The barge is pushing off now.” The motorized barges between the two major settlements ran three times daily, and prided themselves on almost never being late.

“You can come visit me anytime,” Knicky added. "Or maybe I'll come see you."

Nodding, Knock-knock followed the other former Lamplighters onto the barge. Daniel nodded to the collared ex-slaver on the mooring lines. “All right, Pronto. We’re good to go.”

The prisoner set about his work in grim silence. As a mere accessory to the atrocities going on at Paradise Falls, he had gotten off with a five-year sentence, and had secured this post by good behavior. He had no intention of getting sent back to the Rivet City cleanup detail. Soon, the barge was nosing away from the quay and into the Potomoc, which sparkled a lot more these days than it had a few months previous.

It was a nice day to be on the water, Daniel reflected as he made his way to the front of the clumsy but seaworthy craft and listened to the coal-fired engine chug away steadily. He looked back at the other passengers. Knock-knock and Penny were keeping a loose eye on a few younger ones, and the two dogs as well. The latter, he knew, was eager to see her brother. She was far more cheerful about Lamplight’s end than most of her mates; she had not been looking forward to saying good-bye to Joseph when his birthday rolled around. It suddenly occured to Daniel that a couple of the children were absent. Bumble wasn't present, but that was no surprise. During their stay in Megaton, Diego had mentioned a couple in his budding congregation who wanted to adopt a child. He had introduced them to the littlest Lamplighter, and they had hit it off totally, and it was an added bonus that she would be near her "big sister" Lucy. But who was the other one? He supposed he would find out eventually, and could ferry the child safely to Rivet City on a later barge.

He sensed someone next to him, turned to look. It was Squirrel, still looking a bit morose. Unlike the others on the boat, he had little interest in moving to Rivet City, he was just there because he had nowhere else to go. His world, his life, had ceased to exist. That, and he had lost his closest friend. More than anyone else, he was very much alone and very much adrift. Daniel remembered feeling that way the moment he had stepped out of the darkness of Vault 101 and into a dangerous new world. “Hey, kid,” he said. “I heard about what happened to Sammy. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Squirrel said flatly. “You didn’t know him anyway.”

“That’s true, he was your friend, not mine,” Daniel said. “But I risked my life sneaking you guys out of Paradise Falls. I didn't want this to happen." No response, not that he had expected any. He continued: "Besides, I’ve lost people I care about, too. I know what it feels like.”

“Yeah, I guess I heard about your dad,” Squirrel admitted. “Did they ever find his body?”

“Yeah, the Enclave buried him behind the purifier,” Daniel said. “Right about where we would have buried him, had it been up to us. The Brotherhood Scribes put up a nice little monument for him. There’s room next to him, so if I go, we can be together.”

A long silence, then Squirrel said: “It’s still hard to believe sometimes. I mean, me and Sammy played together as long as I can remember.”

“I know,” Daniel said. “If it helps, it gets easier. Not quickly, but it does.”

The barge changed course, heading toward a pier on the shore. In the background, instead of a huge ship, was a large, run-down building of some sort. The kids looked sort of confused, but Squirrel wasn’t. “Is that the Citadel?” he queried, interest poking through his grief like sunlight through a cloud bank..

“Yes it is,” Daniel said. “The barges usually stop there on their way to and from Rivet City. It’s right on the way, and the scribes or knights always need a ride somewhere or other.”

“I know,” Squirrel said. “Paladin Cross told me.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Did she now?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah. She said she’d let me see the big robot the Brotherhood has there.” After nearly singlehandedly demolishing the Enclave, Liberty Prime had been catastrophically damaged in the closing days of the campaign against them, but most of his primary computer core had survived. The rest of him was being rebuilt, but Scribe Rothchild said he was at least two years from being combat-ready, maybe closer to three.

Sure enough, Cross beckoned to the boy. “Are you coming?”

The two of them hurried off the barge and toward the heavily guarded front gate, and a Brotherhood scribe or two hopped aboard for a ride to the purifier, which was still a major nexus of activity (and also right on the way to Rivet City). Then, the large barge set out again.

When they reached Rivet City, it was obvious that they were expected; a welcoming committee of sorts was already there. Rather than clutter up the bridge, Harkness had asked that only he and a few others be on it, but several others were on the exterior decks that served as a promenade of sorts. Some were prospective adoptive parents, others were people who wanted to see the fabled Lamplighters. Since Little Lamplight had never initiated communication with the "mungo" world, many people believed that the settlement itself was just an urban legend, a story made up by kids to tell to their gullible younger siblings. This despite the presence of Trinnie and Bryan Wilks, both of whom were among the welcomers on the bridge. It had been decided that the kids would appreciate having some of their own there to greet them.

Rivet City brought in lots of new arrivals, more than any other settlement, so the process went fast and smoothly. With so many, there was no time for Preston to do comprehensive checkups, he merely peeked in a few ears and noses and checked for signs of radiation poisoning. His prognosis was pretty much the same for all: reasonably well cared-for, rad levels far below the norm, but slight to moderate malnutrition across the board. Rivet City’s plentiful food supply would fix that nicely. Indeed, once they had their clean bill of health, they were funneled into the reception area of Vera’s hotel, where food had been laid out for them. For the first time in months, they would go to bed that night with full stomachs.

One more thing of note happened, a short time later. Rivet City had not allowed residents to own dogs until recently, but they were common enough these days that their presence was barely acknowledged as long as they didn't misbehave and bite someone. The Lamplight dogs were friendly as long as they or the kids weren't threatened. In any case, no one really seemed to notice that Ginger had vanished from the group shortly after they arrived, but she was found some time later in a dark corner on the disused remnants of a naval cot, surrounded by several blind and hairless squirming creatures. Coincidence, perhaps; she had carried the pups to full term and it was time for them to be born. But most of those present were of the mind that Ginger had, on some instinctive level, realized that she and her packof humans were finally in a safe place.

Great ending! :laugh:

Thanks for the sentiment, Emo, but it's not over yet. Most of our Little Lamplighters are now safe in Rivet City (or elsewhere), but there's still one missing. Let's see what our favorite mole-brat is up to...


11. Zip - The Last Lamplighter

It was twilight when Daniel boarded the last barge out of Rivet City. Everything was going to be all right, it looked like. The kids were settled in the two large dormitories that were reserved for orphaned children, and Ginger and the pups had a nice little nest in the girls’ one, which was the nicer of the two. Tomorrow, Father Clifford would begin the process of matching up the younger ones with caring advlts. It was no great surprise that he was the one tasked with it, any more than that Diego ran the school in Megaton. The Roman Catholic church had a long and usually honorable tradition of administrating schools and orphanages. Clifford was a good man, and knew his flock well. If anyone could do right by the former Lamplighters, it was him.

In two months, they could start finding homes for Ginger’s puppies, too. Daniel pondered getting one for himself, remembering his first companion on his journey. He had lost Dogmeat in the Museum of History, the fearless animal had gone after a Glowing One and been ripped apart by its horrific claws. He had only had the animal for three weeks, and had lost him months ago, but he still missed being awakened by the sensation of his furry friend’s tongue on his face, accompanied by stinky dog breath.

There was more good news: Burke, as head of Tenpenny Tower, had shown up to meet with him (in his official capacity as Megaton's mayor) and the Rivet City council earlier that afternoon. Daniel disliked the man, but he knew more about what was going on in the wasteland than anyone else, which made him a very useful asset. Before returning to Tenpenny Tower, Burke had filled him in on the status of the three remaining Lamplighters. Billy was the Outcasts’ newest specialist, Eclair seemed happy with his new life, and Angela was settling in quite nicely as the tower’s unofficial princess.

Star Paladin Cross boarded the barge at the pier by the Citadel. Daniel noted with some interest that she was alone. “Squirrel?” he said.

“He won’t be joining us,” Cross said calmly. “Apparently, he found the lure of working with the Brotherhood’s Scribes to be too tempting to pass up.”

Daniel eyed her carefully. “You know, something tells me you knew that this would happen when you took him with you.”

“Finding safe homes for the Lamplighters is important to you,” Cross replied, her tone giving away nothing. “And I promised to assist you in all of your endeavors.”

Daniel smiled. “Thanks.” He had had no idea what to do about that particular youngster, but in hindsight, thought that he and the Brotherhood would be a good fit. Also, Squire Maxson would be glad to have someone his own age living in the Citadel. Daniel had spent time with he boy in question; he had seemed content with his lot in life, but a bit lonely too. “Squire Squirrel, huh?”

“It has an interesting ring to it,” Cross agreed. “So, what’s happening in Rivet City, aside from a lot of new arrivals?”

“Gary Staley finally found a replacement for Angela,” Daniel stated. “Oh, and there’s a new person in the science lab, too.”

“Hmmm… boy or girl?” Cross queried.

Daniel laughed. Partnering up with Cross had been a wonderful thing for him, he reflected. At the age of nineteen, he had not been ready to be without a parent figure. She had understood this, and had filled the void in his life, but in a way that honored James’s memory rather than trying to replace him. To this end, she periodically reminded him that just because he was in a habit of saving what was left of the world from time to time, it didn’t mean he couldn’t find someone special to settle down with. “You, madam, are incorrigible.”

“Your parents were not that much older than you when they were married,” Cross reminded him primly.

“The waitress is a girl, but she’s almost your age. And she’s got a man anyway. I think they’re going to have Clifford marry them.” Since ordained clergy were not common in the wasteland, many people who wanted to marry were unable to, so they had to settle for cohabiting until they found someone who could unite them properly. “But the lab tech’s not that much older than me. And I didn’t see a ring, not that that proves anything.” Wedding bands weren’t easy to find either.

They talked of other matters until they reached Megaton, and headed for the house that they shared. When they were crisscrossing the wastes and exterminating raiders and mutated creatures on a daily basis, Fawkes had lived there as well. However, now that they were in semi-retirement, there was less need for them to always be together. Fawkes now had a place of his own at the Super Mart, which had furnishings scaled to his size. When Daniel visited, he often said, it was like being a little kid again.

They heard the commotion inside the house before they reached the door. They exchanged glances, then drew their laser pistols as he entered the house. Daniel’s weapon was a customized job he had picked up in Canturberry Commons; it wasn’t nearly as effective as his beloved Green Death, but rifles weren’t allowed in Rivet City. Harkness had told him that he was exempt from that, but he chose to follow the same rules as everyone else did.

Daniel quickly realized that there was no danger: Wadsworth, his robo-butler, might have been a mere Mr. Handy (as opposed to the far more lethal Gutsies and Sentry Bots), but he had a flamethrower and a wicked cutting implement. He was holding the latter frighteningly close to the head of a small figure in a rumpled gray outfit. “Don’t move a muscle, you young ruffian,” he said, and his cultured British accent did not hide the threat in his actions and tone.

Daniel realized which child had been missing. “I’ll take it from here, Wadsworth,” he ordered. The robot retracted its implement and moved off to a safe distance, and Daniel collared the youngster and lifted him to his feet, not roughly, but firmly. “All right, Zip, what are you doing in my house? Talk fast.”

The boy was trembling and cradling his right hand, but he answered the question. “I… I heard you had a N-nuka machine, and it was f-full of ice-cold Nuka C-cola. I never had it ice-cold, an’ I w-wanted to try some. So I c-climbed up to the window and slid in.” The window was small and highly placed, and Daniel had dismissed it as a security risk for that reason. “And then, your robot came at me. I shot it, but it blew fire at me.”

Cross looked around and saw the small pistol lying on the floor. She picked it up and pocketed it.

Daniel shook his head. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed,” he said. “I gave Wadsworth standing orders to detain intruders. Lots of people tell their guard robots to use deadly force. Let me see that hand.”

Zip extended it. The burn was ugly, but mostly superficial, only blistering in a few places. “Do I need a doctor?”

“I think I can handle that myself,” Daniel told him, and sat him gently down on a chair. A quick stimpack for the pain followed by some burn cream and a few bandages, and he was good to go. “You’ll need a few days to heal up, but you shouldn’t have any scars,” he said.

“OK,” Zip said.

Daniel used his key to open the machine, which was indeed full of ice-cold Nuka Cola. There were three distribution centers in the area, and since they were underground, all three had survived the holocaust mostly intact. Between bottles and syrup stock (used for fountain drinks), there was anough Nuka in the wasteland to last the current populace another nine hundred years. He took out two bottles and handed one to the boy. “Here,” he said. “Next time you want one, just ask. Understand?”

Zip nodded. “OK. I will.”

“And don’t you dare break into my house again,” Daniel said more severely. “Or anyone else’s. You may be too young for a slave collar, but I will personally make sure you can’t sit down for a week. You get my drift?”

Zip nodded again. Dr. Spock’s teachings on spanking had fallen into disfavor after the war. When survival was a day to day struggle and violence a simple fact of life, discipline had to be handled expediently. Kids in Little Lamplight had gotten their posteriors swatted as often as kids anywhere else.

“Good. Now, let’s get you back. Where are you staying?” Zip shrugged. Daniel rephrased: “Do you have a family? People who have taken you in?” Zip shook his head. “Then why weren’t you with the others when they headed for Rivet City?”

“I don’t know.”

Daniel sighed. “All right… we’ll worry about it tomorrow. You can sleep on the couch tonight. And don’t bother trying to open up the machine, I have the only key.” He fetched a blanket from a handy shelf. “If you’re hungry, there’s wonder meat and some other stuff in the fridge.”

A couple of hours later, the boy had fallen asleep on the couch. Daniel sat in the chair next to him and read a book. Most books, this one included, had been scorched in the holocaust or decayed in the ensuing two centuries, but you could find a few here and there that were decipherable, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. He had set the radio in his Pip-Boy to Agatha’s station, the better to lull their guest to sleep.

Cross approached Daniel. “Is he out?” Daniel nodded in response; Cross went on: “What are you going to do with him?”

“Stick him on a barge to Rivet City, I expect,” Daniel said. “Not much else I can do."

He looked down at the motionless youngster and idly adjusted the blanket that lay over him, then brushed stray filaments of hair out of his face. Cross knew from long-held observation of her young comrade aty arms that that was not what he really wanted to do. She didn't say anything, though. Daniel would eleborate, or he wouldn't.

And he did: "We might not be out getting shot at every day anymore, but we still go in harm’s way from time to time. The last thing I want to do is leave someone the way my dad did me.”

“I guess I understand that,” Cross said.

“They’ll take good care of him there,” Daniel added.

“I’m sure they will,” Cross replied. “Good night.”


It's not over yet. Still got the epilogue to see to. It'll be up later today or tomorrow.

Sorry 'bout may hasty comment, but that seemed like a nice place to end the story, not that I'm not enjoying these last chapters, I always had trouble keeping tabs on the lamplighters so I didn't notice you had hardly mentioned zip. :laugh:

And now, it is time to ring the curtain down on the Lamplighters and head out into the Mojave Wasteland, for new adventures, trials, and trimuphs. Hope you enjoyed the story.


Epilogue: One Year Later

The Citadel was normally off-limits to visitors, always had been under Owyn Lyons, but he had passed on peacefully in his sleep a few weeks before. It was the strain that had done it, everyone said. Barely three months after the closure of Little Lamplight, the Enclave’s station had begun broadcasting again. It wasn’t Eden’s voice, the supercomputer was a distant and bad memory. But, it was in the same vein as before, the promise of apple pie and baseball and white picket fences. War never changed, and neither did propaganda. With the threat of a new incursion by the Enclave suddenly imminent, Lyons had applied his scribes’ feet to the flames. Today, the fruit of their resulting labors would be rervealed and celebrated. They had accomplished in twelve months what had been expected to take around thirty.

So, Sarah Lyons had, on this special occasion, allowed the gates of the near-impregnable fortress to be opened for the ceremony. Although Daniel’s status as mayor would have allowed him a spot in the VIP seating, he had chosen to attend this function in his Brotherhood capacity. He and Fawkes, both Knights, were among the crowd of armored men and women assembled in the rows of chairs some distance back (Fawkes, being eight feet tall, had considerably seated himself at the rear). Cross, as a high-ranking Paladin, enjoyed a seat considerably forward of them.

He peered around the large assembly space. So many people present. He smiled to himself as he saw the Megaton schoolchildren (who were here on a field trip of sorts) neatly assembled under the watchful eyes of Diego and his wife, who still ably handled the group even though she was almost the size of a house. Seeing how eager she was to meet the new arrival, Daniel could for the first time really imagine how his mother, Catherine must have been in the weeks prior to his own birth. Lucy sat next to her; if anyone got a splinter today, old Doc Church would have to handle it himself. The girl saw Daniel looking at her and gave him a wave and a shy smile. Daniel allowed himself a smile back at her. Just a small one, though; he was by now aware that she had a major crush on him and had no desire to fan the flames.

Knicky was also among that group. The boy had not intended originally to attend school, but had soon found that all of his new friends in Grayditch did, and the town was insufferably boring when he was the only kid there. And a lot of the lessons taught there were pretty useful, he had to admit. If his mother had known some of the stuff Billy Creel taught the group, he and Knock-knock might have never had to go to Lamplight in the first place. In any case, he was busily saving his caps. Soon, he would be able to buy a Brahmin and go into business as a roving merchant. Or maybe a boat would be better, much of the Potomac was now drinkable, and settlements were popping up all along the shore. Plenty of opportunity for a young man who was good at fixing up stuff.

On the makeshift dais, the Brotherhood Scribes had assembled, Squirrel among them. They were indeed the guests of honor here, since this was their accomplishment more than anything. Squirrel might have been young and had less education than most of them, but his small deft fingers had been invaluable for handling some of the more intricate wiring jobs. When he wasn’t working, he and young Maxson were a nearly inseperable pair: they roomed together, ate together, and had lately taken to pulling various pranks on some of the more insufferable members of the Brotherhood.

Also present was a small delegation from the Outcasts. Although there was little love lost between them and the Lyons Brotherhood, they had both recognized the very real threat of the resurgent Enclave. In return for a share of the Enclave’s tech, they had revealed the details of the new X-laser they had developed from reverse engineering that mysterious alien weapon. The things weren’t in mass production yet, but they were being installed in key systems, most notably this one. The two Brotherhood factions were a long way from reconciliation, but they seemed to have reluctantly accepted that humanity needed them both.

Among the group was Specialist Billy Morgan: the boy had not known his original last name, or even if he had one. So, he had chosen to adopt the last name of the woman who had taken him under her wing and been to him the mother he had never really had. It was inevitable that he be there, since he had been heavily involved in reconfiguring the X-laser technology to work with the power systems that the Brotherhood had available. It had been time well spent, though: Liberty Prime’s head laser was now more than twice as powerful as it had been before.

At the front of the VIP section were two more familiar faces. As leader of the Tenpenny settlement, it was inevitable that Burke had been invited. He had had little interest in the affair, since he and the Brotherhood had as little to do with each other as possible. However, his pretty and headstrong daughter had wanted to attend, and so he had made the time. Her best friend, the young budding restauranteur who still went by the name of Eclair, was seated next to her. The two were whispering about something or other.

And last, there was the Rivet City delegation, the better part of a city of just under 200 souls now. Although they had opened a school shortly after the Lamplighters arrived, it was closed today. The children of the settlement traveled with their parents, and those who had not been adopted traveled with their advlt minders. None of the Lamplighters remained in this group; the younger ones had found sponsor families, and Knock-knock (only she usually went by Sue now) had moved in with Joseph and Penny. Bryan Wilkes was also present, and barely recognizable; a year of plentiful food and loving care had turned him from an emaciated wastelander into a healthy youngster.

Daniel thought about Robert J. Macready, a thirteen-year-old boy lying in a shallow grave in a forgotten place. His first act as mayor had been to remind his predacessor that true leadership was looking out for those under you, not simply ruling over them. His last act had been to exemplify that sentiment, sacrificing his own life to save his comrades. And had he been around to see those youngsters today thriving in their new homes, Daniel felt that he would have been pleased.

His train of thought was interrupted by a small hand on his knee. He turned to face the owner of it. “What’s up, Zip?”

“They’re giving away free Nukas,” Zip said, pointing to where this was indeed happening. “Can I have one?”

“One,” Daniel said. “No more, though. You’ve already had one today, and I don’t need you bouncing off the walls.”

“OK, thanks.” Zip gave him a quick hug and hurried off to the Nuka stand.

Cross watched this exchange through the corner of her eye and mentally thanked the Maker that Daniel had never quite gotten around to loading the boy onto that barge. Not too long after Little Lamplight was abandoned, the team had responded to a distress call from someplace called the Pitt, and met up with someone named Wehrner. For logistical reasons, Daniel had had to head there alone. He had returned ten days later, barely recognizable because of some horrible emotional trauma. He had never spoken of what happened in that city of choking smoke and endless noise, but Cross had no trouble deducing that he had had to make a dreadful decision of some sort. For someone like Daniel who almost unfailingly did the right thing, there was nothing on earth worse than having to choose the lesser of two appalling evils. She knew that someone named Marie was involved, because he kept muttering the name in his sleep, but had no idea who he was referring to.

It was Zip, more than anyone else, who had put him back together. Or, more precisely, motivated him to put himself back together. Anyone could have run Megaton, the settlement was thriving, and Cross and Fawkes alone were more than formidable enough to squash the occasional raider attack or mutant problem without him. But Zip had needed the love and support of the closest thing he had to a parent; to everyone else Daniel was important, but to the kid, he was essential. And because he knew this, Daniel had powered through. The scars on his soul would remain forever, but at least they were no longer bleeding wounds.

Rothchild had finished making his speech, and now he directed the crowd’s attention to the huge grating in the middle of the area, which slid open. An elevator deep underground rumbled, and ten meters of steel and silicon smoothly ascended through the hole. A deafening electronic voice narrated the reactivation sequence: “Power systems at 100 percent… weapons hot… democracy is truth! Communism is death!”

The rebirth of Liberty Prime, despite the celebratory mood, indicated more than anything else that all was not well in the Capital Wasteland. Deadly deathclaws and giant radscorpions still prowled about, pockets of raiders and super mutants still hid in ruined buildings while vicious feral ghouls lurked down in the flooded metro tunnels. The Enclave’s still-active radio signal indicated that the forces of tyranny were still at work, growing stronger and biding their time until the right moment to move in and take control. More war was imminent and war never changed, not really. The weapons had grown deadlier over the eons, of course, but they were just different frostings on the same poisonous cake.

But, Daniel thought to himself, just as the bad things about humanity never changed, other things remained constant as well. One year ago, a band of plucky youngsters had left their home and forged across the wastes, strangers in a strange land but determined to make new lives for themselves. Not only had they succeeded in their quest, but in the process they had unwittingly found themselves enriching the lives of those around them. And so, if the day came when the threat of darkness and tyranny loomed over the wasteland once again, he knew that he and his faithful comrades would head out to face it once again. And that people like Zip and his fellow former Lamplighters would be the reason.

Some things, in the end, were worth fighting for.

THE END of LAMPLIGHTERS’ FATE

Bravo! Outstanding tale!

Aha!

I had wondered how you would end it... and now, seeing this... I think you did a damn fine job.

The only way you could have done it better, would have been to save the 'War... war never changes' for the absolute end.

Magnificent work. I hope to read more from you, soon!

I read all the chapters over several hours. A few parts confused me but they're not much, Just bits like "Who is talking now?" (I think that part was in chapter 8 when Paladin Cross, I think was talking?) But overall I enjoyed the story a lot. I'd add a bit more but its getting late. Anyway, Thanks!

QUOTE: The only way you could have done it better, would have been to save the 'War... war never changes' for the absolute end.

I know, I know. And believe me, I tried to. do just that. But I couldn't quite manage it.

Thank you all for the kind words. They mean a lot. I really do wish that it had been possible to take the Lamplighters further, figure out what kind of people they turned into. I suppose the problem with that was that I would have needed to figure out what kind of world they were living in, how long it would take for civilization to rebuild itself (years? Decades? Or maybe centuries...) And some things, I just didn't know.

I'm currently amassing potential story ideas in "New Vegas"... Boone, my current follower, shows a lot of potental there, as does the town of Primm, and I'm confident that others will turn up as well. But in the meantime, I may come back to the Capital Wasteland again, maybe even revisit the Lamplighters. Time will tell.

I think you told a fine tale about the Lamplighters as it is. There really is no reason to revisit them, because it would ruin the magic of seeing them safe and with their own lives.

I also love that you partnered Zip up with your own Character. That was adorable as well as awesome. If I had to take a Lamplighter home with me it'd probably be Zip too.

Interestingly enough, my Lone Wanderer stumbled upon Lamplight the other day.


Apparently, with Enhanced Children and Mart's Mutant Mod both active, one of the Lamplighter kids wandered too close to the Super Mutant section of the caves. As I made my way up to the gate, I found that it was open. Moving inside, I found a great many of the Lamplight children quite horrifically slaughtered. Rather baffled by the entire thing, I decided to explore further inside the cave. The first group I found was Sticky, Princess, and Joseph. Apparently, their scripting prevented them from running away when the Muties came. Knick Knack and Knock Knock were still alive and hiding over by the Doctor's Office.

Judging by the fact that they were actually using the flee/cower animation, I presumed there were still muties up ahead.

No sooner had I begun down the ramp, than does Bumble come flying up it at me, screaming. Behind her, three Super Mutants.

Two of them have nailbats, one is a Brute with a super sledge.


Me? I'm out of ammo. I begin my valiant defense of the poor children of Lamplight with 'Click... click... clickclickclick!'

Not even taking time to PANIC properly, I whip out a grenade, hit VATS, and lob it at the nearest of the three mutants. He's all of two feet in front of me, and I nearly kill MYSELF in the process (because I use a mod that makes it so you take closer to regular damage in VATS), but only the Brute survives.

Now he's focused on ME.

I whip out the first gun I can find with bullets. It's a .32 pistol. I empty every spare round I can into the mutant's face.

'Click click click'... out of ammo again, I grab one of the nailbats on the ground, equip it, and prepare for the worst.

I just barely survive. Click up a few stimpacks... and I'm good to go again. The Brute is dead, I go back to check on the kids... and then I think about this fanfic here.


And suddenly I decide I am going to make it my mission to evacuate Little Lamplight... and get these kids 'set up' some place nice.


Zip, I can hear, is backed into a corner down the ramp.

Attacking him is another Brute... this one with a Minigun. Zip, fortunately, is ducked down just far enough behind the counter that most of the bullets keep missing him. I spot Eclair nearby, get an idea, and dash over to talk to him. Thanks to Sharing and Caring Companions, I 'recruit' him into my party, give him my Nailbat, and switch over to the Super Sledge.

Without warning, I pop up from behind the picnic table, charge the mutant while he's firing away at Zip, and bludgeon him into submission.

Recruiting Zip, I take my two 'companions' back to the main level and recruit the rest of the surviving kids... then take them into the Doctor's Office where Lucy is.


I tell the whole lot of them to wait, then head back out into the cave to find Biwwy and Joseph and anyone else I can save.

At this point, I find Mayor MacCready's body near the area where he normally stands watch... pick up his gun and ammo... and move him and the other deceased into a central area outside the Doctor's Office for a proper burial later.

In the Great Hall, Biwwy is nearly dead. He's getting hit from two sides by hunting rifle fire... and from below, another Brute with a minigun. Fortunately, this seems to be the last of them... so I just use the rest of my grenades to take care of the Brute and one of the regular muties, then use MacCready's rifle to finish off the last two which are up in the 'living area'.

Here I find a number of un-named children who didn't make it... and one who did. I take the nameless boy, Biwwy, and give them each a hunting rifle... then go looking for Joseph.

Sadly, I find his body near the locked door to the Vault. He never had a chance... they trapped him in there.


So, I take the survivors, get them all together... and begin the arduous task of re-installing them into safe homes across the wasteland.

I'm in the process of doing so right now, in fact.


But that's my story! Inspired by yours, and played out in-game without intention.

It's just a shame that my Wasteland can't be so nicely developed as yours. I haven't even started the purifier yet, this playthrough.

Tannenbaum: Awww... to paraphrase Moira, those poor little Lamplighters! But the modded game makes a point, I wouldn't think the Murder Pass gate as it appears in the game would be adequate to repulse a horde of hungry muties. Of course, maybe it has some defenses we don't know about... a few mounted heavy incinerators would give the mutants pause, I think. And I wouldn't put it past a bunch of tenacious little buggers like the Lamplighters. But getting back to the point, the battle you just described would make an awesome fanfiction!

Rust: You're right about one thing, I have no intention of taking the story any further into the future. The only two characters I'd even want to follow down the road are Princess/Angela and Mr. Burke, also known as my anti-heroic Annie and her dirty-dealing Daddy Warbucks. Surprisingly, they would not go in the direction you would expect, since I am of the mind that anyone who possesses the capacity for love also possesses the capacity for redemption. And because I'm an incurable svcker for happy endings.

What I was more considering doing was describing in greater depth certain incidents that I just gave brief descriptions to early on, but that could make great stories in and of themselves. Maybe a slave's-eye perspective of the liberation of Paradise Falls, for instance. Or possibly the story of the origin of the St. Monica Elementary School. Or, maybe describe Lucy's "negotiation" with Macready to get Bumble admitted to Lamplight. I always enjoy watching rude little twits get put in their place.

And about Zip, that actually came as a surprise to me. However, the more I thought about it, the more inevitable it seemed: our young hero takes the lead in finding the remaining Lamplighters secure new homes, so it just made sense for one of them to wind up with him. It shows that he was willing to do what he was asking of others.

Anyway, if any of my ideas coalesce into workable short stories, I'll add them. If not, well, New Vegas will present new possibilities.

OK, this is the first of my supplemental material, the fanfictional equivalent of Downloadable Content. As mentioned, most of these events are set well before the events of "Lamplighter's Fate". This is the first and shortest, and the only one featuring the Lamplighters as a group.

It's 2276, two years before LF, and probably 18 months before James's mysterious departure from the Vault. Daniel is 17 years old and still studying to be Vault 101's marriage counselor (his Tag skills were Energy Weapons, Speech, and Medicine), with no idea whatsoever of the destiny that lies ahead for him. Little Lamplight's food supply is running low, and in a last-ditch stand against starvation, Macready has made the decision not to accept any new Lamplighters. And that is where our story begins...

---------------------------------

S1. An Unwanted Arrival

In hindsight, Lucy would later say, it was almost providential that she had been there in the first place. It was normally Knick-nack’s shift, but Macready had co-opted him, it seemed that something or other needed fixing. Most of Lamplight was pretty low-maintainence, but a lot of the platforms and fixtures were 200 years old, and some deterioration was inevitable. Since there were no patients to tend to, Lucy had agreed to watch the front gate instead. She had figured that it would be a good opportunity to read her stained, dog-eared copy of the DC Journal of Medicine. The tome had been a farewell gift from Red, who had made much use of it in her own Lamplight years.

Gate guard duty, necessary as it was, was a cordially loathed task among the Lamplighters. Days, sometimes weeks passed without anyone showing up aside from scav teams. Unfortunately, you did get the occasional unexpected guest. Sometimes it was a wastelander seeking shelter (only to be told to try their luck elsewhere). Sometimes it was a wandering trader; the Canturberry traders did not include Lamplight on their routes, but others did. If Knicky was available to come out dikeer with them, they might do business. Or, from time to time it was a nice plump mole-rat or a wild dog, which meant fresh meat for Eclair to make dinner with. Lucy’s weapon of choice (on the rare occasion that she carried one) was an old 10mm pistol; but the gate guard had to use a rifle, and Knicky had loaned her his. She kept it within easy reach, but devoted most of her attention to her reading. In the distance, she could hear Sticky goofing off with some of the younger ones. That one was seriously immature, she reflected: Heaven help him when he turned sixteen and had to try to survive outside Lamplight.

She heard them before she saw them, out front. A man and a child, it sounded like. The man sounded vaguely familiar, the kid sounded young. She picked up the rifle, just in case. You never knew.

The advlt voice went silent, whoever owned it, she never saw him. There was nothing for a few long moments, then what sounded like sniffles and footsteps. Muted footsteps, as though someone wearing socks was approaching. Lucy didn't bother raising the rifle, she instinctively knew that whatever was coming, it posed no threat. At length, the source of the noise energed into view.

The figure that entered the cavern was perhaps the most pathetic sight Lucy had ever seen. He or she (it was hard to tell, since the tangled mane of hair was of intermediate length) was five at most, probably more like three or four. The kid had on an old set of pre-war footie pajamas with “BLAST OFF” emblazoned on them. At least, Lucy was pretty sure that’s what it said, the things were so dirty it could have been anything. Whoever this youngster was, he or she had fallen over a lot of times. The whole lower part of the kid’s face was clogged with dried snot, and his or her hands were oozing dark red through a generous coating of wasteland dust.

Lucy knew that in the past, raiders had used a child confederate (sometimes willing and other times not) to try to get into Lamplight. Indeed, former mayor Machete had been used thus: raiders had taken her from a settlement they had hit and sent her into Lamplight so that the kids would open the door. The Lamplighters had indeed been fooled, and a shootout had occured. The raiders were advlts and competent fighters, but they didn’t know the caves, which put them at a fatal disadvantage. It had not been completely one-sided; one Lamplighter had died, several others were wounded or hurt while fleeing. However, they had killed all four of the raiders; only Machete was taken alive. The mayor at the time was a compassionate soul, and upon hearing the girl’s story, he had allowed her to join the city. Little Lamplight’s laws had mandated that any orphan be taken in. Still, she had not really been accepted there until the day she had killed an enormous mole-rat with a knife, at age seven.

Lucy didn’t think that was happening here; the kid had onviously been out on her own for a long time. Still, she was aware that there was a mungo in the area, so she was careful. “Sticky! Come over here.”

The gawky fourteen-year-old did as told. “What’s up?”

“Open the gate and cover me. I’m going out.” Lucy handed him the rifle, then took out her automatic. She was not the best shot in town, since she preferred healing injuries to inflicting them. However, she had been born in Lamplight, so she knew how to handle herself. With aimed fire, she could park a round in a man’s chest at thirty yards with a pistol, three times that with a rifle.

“OK,” Sticky said. A moment later, the gate started going up. Lucy went out, took the child by the hand, and led her quickly through the gate, which closed behind them. There was no sign of an attack; indeed, there was no noise from the entrance at all. Given that she knew the voice, it had very likely been one of the wasteland scavvers who sold stuff to Knicky. He’d probably found the kid out somewhere and delivered her to “the kid city”, then hurried away, like the old stories about leaving a baby in a basket on the steps of an orphanage. She noticed that the child’s sleepers had a nasty-looking brown stain in the rear, and her nose confirmed the cause of it. Given the little moppet’s age, she reflected, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

Once they were inside, Lucy addressed Sticky again. “I have a patient, so I need you to watch the gate, OK?” Sticky sighed, but nodded. This was not the first time someone had needed him to take over a duty. Indeed, since he wasn’t really good at anything aside from making up lame stories, that was kind of what he normally did.

*~*~*~*

News traveled reasonably fast in Lamplight, so it was not all that long before Macready heard about the new arrival, so he quickly made his way to the office building where Lucy operated her clinic. The latter had gone to work on her latest patient as efficiently as always. She had bathed and bandaged the scraqed hands first, since they were the most obvious injury. With that done, she had peeled off the filthy and fouled sleepers, revealing that their guest was definitely a girl. When Macready entered, she was busy trying to clean up the mess they had concealed. It wasn’t easy, the kid had probably crapped her pants a day or two ago and been walking and sitting in it ever since, but Lucy had a strong stomach.

“Ughhh,” the mayor of Lamplight said as he entered the room. “What a f***ing stink!”

“I’m dealing with it,” Lucy said testily, adding another thoroughly fouled rag to the small pile of them on the floor. “What are you doing in here, anyway?” She had had the door closed, always did when she had to undress a patient even partways. It was a long-held rule that if the doctor’s door was closed, you did not enter, at least unless there was an emergency.

“That the kid who just wandered in?” Macready queried, not bothering to answer her question. As far as he was concerned, outsiders didn’t have the same rights as actual patients.

“Yes,” Lucy said, soothing the little girl, who was whimpering. Even at ten (and a small ten at that), Macready scared the younger kids.

“Do you know where she came from? She can’t have wandered far.”

“I know her name’s Betty, and she’s four,” Lucy said. “From what I can tell, some mungo brought her here and left her. Probably couldn’t take care of a kid, but figured we could.”

“Is she the only one?” Macready wanted to know.

“Yeah, I think so,” Lucy said. She examined her work. “I guess that’ll do for now,” she decided, and took a grimy undershirt from under her bench, then slipped it onto the girl. It was an advlt-size garment, so it covered her up down to her knees. “She’ll need a bath to get it all off, but I’ll worry about that later.”

Macready shrugged. “How soon can you have her ready to go?”

Lucy took a bottle of water from the counter and gave it to the child, who drank it down greedily. “Go? Go where?”

“Back where she came from, stupid,” Macready snapped. “In case you forgot, Lamplight doesn’t have room for any more kids. Especially ones who s*** their pants.”

“She’s probably potty-trained,” Lucy said evenly. “She seems pretty smart for her age.” Emotional trauma frequently caused kids to have accidents. Lots of new arrivals, still dealing with the shock of being orphaned or abandoned, had dealt with similar issues.

“It doesn’t matter,” Macready said. “We’re not taking new Lamplighters.”

“We are now,” Lucy said quietly.

“Who’s the f***ing mayor here? You or me?”

“You are,” Lucy said. “I never said you weren…”

“That’s right,” Macready interrupted. “And I say…”

Lucy rose smoothly to her feet, lightning flashing in her dark eyes. “Here’s what I say, R. J.,” she said, her voice a low snarl. “You turn that poor, pathetic little girl out in the wasteland, she's going to die. And if that happens, I’m going to wait ‘til you’re asleep, then take two bricks. And I’m going to put one under your balls and then take the other one, and go like this.” As she said this last, she made a vicious downward gesture with both hands, making it very obvious what would happen.

R. J. Macready was no coward, but neither was he a fool. He knew that Lucy would do exactly what she said she was going to. But that was almost beside the point: the hidden side that she had just exhibited, diammetrically opposed to her usual cheerful and helpful self, would have given pause to a larger and braver man than he. He rarely gave ground in an argument, but he gave it today. “All right, all right… I guess if you’re willing to.. you know, look after her…”

“Yes, I’ll take charge of her,” Lucy said, calmer now but eyes still blazing. “Now, if you’re not going to help me deal with this mess, can you go tell Eclair I need some more water?” Macready turned to go. “Oh, one more thing,” she quickly added.

Macready turned back, eyes wary. “What?”

“You walk in here when the door’s closed again, someone had better be badly hurt,” Lucy told him. “Because otherwise, someone will be.” She didn’t have to say who the someone was. She didn’t have to.

Macready glared at her, but said nothing more, only left. Satisfied, Lucy beckoned the girl over. “Here, honey,” she said sweetly. “You look tired. Why don’t you lie down for awhile?”

“OK,” Betty replied, and obediently went over to the mattress indicated. By the time Lucy found a blanket and laid it over her, she was already blinking fast.

She was comatose by the time when, a few minutes later, Joseph entered the office with a crate of water bottles in his hand; obviously Eclair or Macready had sent him. Princess walked in right behind him. Since her patient was now dressed, Lucy had left the door open.

“Heard we have a new Lamplighter,” Joseph said. Lucy pointed, Joseph examined the figure under the blanket. “Cute,” he said.

“How’d you convince R. J. to let her in?” Princess queried. Despite their rocky past, she understood the town’s mayor better than most.

“Just asked nicely,” Lucy said casually.

Princess scoffed at this. “Yeah, right,” she said, and left. Lucy and Joseph exchanged meaningful glances. Princess had all of R. J.’s toughmindedness and lack of manners, but did not have his inherent loyalty and integrity. It was a disturbing combination.

Joseph turned to Lucy. He was still a bit shy of fourteen, but he was already the town’s informal teacher and “wise man”. Sticky was fourteen, but was a goofball, and fifteen-year-old Bittercup was a few bricks sky of a full load. “Much as I hate to agree with her, I doubt it was that easy.”

“Nope,” Lucy said, but did not elaborate.

Joseph got the hint. “Anything I can do to help with her?”

“Yeah, actually,” Lucy said. “Can you keep an eye on her while I put her clothes in to soak?” The jammies were filthy, but definitely salvagable. They just needed to be washed out.

“Sure,” Joseph replied.

Lucy left the building with the clothes and rags in her hand. It occured to her that, at the age of ten, she had just taken total responsibility for another person. She had only just really mastered the ins and outs of taking care of herself, and now she had to do it with another as well. She had no idea how much care the kid would need, or if she would be able to balance it with her medical duties. All she knew was that she had no choice but to try to tough it out.

Such was life in Little Lamplight.

The following is part one of two, and you perhaps be pleased to hear that it does not involve the Lamplighters.

I was a bit ambiguous about times, since I'm never quite sure how long it took Daniel and his awesome posse to complete the restoration of Project Purity and the destruction of the Enclave. The closest estimate is that the bulk of LF takes place about nine months after the day Daniel stepped out of Vault 101 and into the Capital Wasteland, and started a journey that would change the world. The following is set about three and a half months earlier. The purifier is online, the tidal basin is clean, the Enclave is gone. But there is still much to be done, before civilization can be rebuilt in earnest...


S2. Judgment in Paradise

If there was ever a place with a less fitting name than Paradise Falls, no one currently alive in the wasteland remembered it.

Certainly, Dylan Peterson couldn’t think of one. But then, at thirteen years of age, he hadn’t seen that many places. Just the small settlement he had grown up in, which no longer existed. Everyone who had lived there was either dead, or currently residing in the Paradise Falls slave pens.

The nightmare had begun about a week before, in the middle of the night. One moment, Dylan had been asleep in his bed, in the tiny rundown shack that he shared with his parents. The next, his dreams had been invaded by gunfire and explosions and screams. He and his parents had been dragged roughly from their home and tossed into a confused and frightened jumble of human beings in the middle of the town. As Dylan watched in horror, one man resisted, and was blown apart by automatic weapons fire.

But that wasn’t the worst thing, Dylan remembered. The terrified prisoners had sat there together for hours while the town was searched, then burned to the ground once everything valuable was gone. The women were seperated from the others at one point. Dylan’s mother, who had been nearly forty and graying, had been quickly returned to the group, as had Kathryn, a sweet-faced sixteen-year-old. The other two had been taken away to one of the buildings. Dylan didn’t see what was going on, but he heard the screams, and he knew enough about the birds and the bees to have a pretty good idea. One of them, the town’s promiscuous young barfly, was returned a few hours later, clothes torn and in obvious agony.

The other didn’t return at all, and Dylan felt sick at the thought of that, because she had been the single mother of seven-year-old Hannah. Nine-year-old Eric, the only other child in town, had also survived the tragedy. He still had his mom with him, but his father was among the dead. It seemed that he had tried to fight the attacking slavers with the gun he kept in his nightstand, but been quickly overwhelmed. The Nu?ez’s also didn’t join them; they were both in their seventies and useless as slaves, so they were simply shot and killed by the one female among the slavers, a brutish woman who went by the name of Carolina Red.

And so, when the dust settled, the slavers had taken twelve people from the settlement: five men, four women (including Kathy), and three children. Seven others were left behind, burning inside buildings or rotting in the street. Another of their number had perished on the long, arduous journey from their home to Paradise Falls. Mr. Davis, one of the older men, had collapsed with horrible chest pains. The slavers had no doctor along, and wouldn’t have cared if they had, they simply decided to use the stricken man for an object lesson. Their leader, a cruel-faced man who called himself “Forty-four”, had pressed a button on some sort of diabolical device he was carrying, and the collar around Mr. Davis’s neck had exploded, turning his head into a cloud of red mist. Forty-four had warned them all that if they resisted or fled, the same would happen to them.

They had reached the converted shopping mall three days ago, and were now sitting in the slave pens, where they had joined four other hapless wastelanders who were already there. Even so, they were luckier than poor Kathryn, who was confined to the closet-sized Pulaski shelter. The slavers were giving her plenty of water and food, clearly no chances were being taken with her health, so the intent was obviously to keep her isolated rather than punish her.Dylan had asked his father (the women and the men were being kept separate) why Kathy was being treated that way, his dad professed not to know. However, Dylan had a pretty good sense that he wasn’t telling the truth.

(The real reason, which Dylan would not find out until years after, was that the girl in question had never slept with a man. An attractive female slave could easily fetch a thousand caps from the right buyer; but an attractive virgin female slave could bring in three times that.)

So, three days had passed. Three days of drinking filthy water, eating tiny amounts of bad food, and sleeping in close quarters with others. Not to mention only being able to use the toilets twice a day, and being constantly watched while doing it. Three days of trying to reconcile himself with the fact that the town he had grown up in and hearly half of the people he’d grown up with were all gone for good. And constantly wondering when they would be shipped en masse off to the Pitt, whatever that was. And that is why, at this point in time, he was sitting at the edge of the slave pen with his father next to him and staring miserably out at the deepening night.

At length, his dad tapped him on the shoulder. “Something’s up, I think,” he said.

“What?” Dylan queried. “Are they getting ready to sell us, do you think?”

“I dunno,” Mr. Peterson said. “But look at that guy. With that Forty-four bastard.”

Dylan looked. Seemed like a generic scumbag to him. “What about him?”

“He looks… nervous. Scared, even.”

Dylan looked. The slaver in question, one of the younger ones, did look nervous. “Shhh. They’re coming.”

They both shushed, not wanting to be used as another object lesson. The conversation between the two men slowly became audible.

“Look, I know I can’t prove anything, but I got a bad feeling. Look at the facts,” the younger slaver said. “They cleaned out Evergreen Mills. Then, they hit Fort Bannister, turned it into a f***ing hole in the ground. And from there, they headed north. Right toward us, you know what I’m saying?”

“We’ve got lookouts,” Forty-four insisted. “They ain’t seen nothing. And they have to know that if they attack us, the first people to die will be the slaves. Eulogy made sure that was well known right when he heard about that little saint from the vault and his little do-gooder army.”

“That ‘do-gooder army’ just took out half the raiders in the area in one shot,” the slaver insisted. “And then it slaughtered the Talons. And those guys are tough. And now they’re coming our way.”

“Look, I met Quentin,” the older slaver countered. “He bribed his way in here. Risked his own sorry a** to free 2,000 caps worth of merchandise, and didn’ even ask ‘em for a reward. That’s the kind of guy he is. We’ve got fifteen slaves in here, and he won’t risk having them slaughtered.”

“If you say so, man.”

“I do. So why don’t you quit your yappin’ and do your j…”

Forty-four stopped speaking in surprise when the black-clad blur whizzed down in front of him, and before he could react, a powerful left hand seized him by the throat. The younger slaver started to react, but took a burst of subsonic 10mm rounds in the head before he could. The submachine gun that had launched them was well-silenced, so the loudest thing about the kill was the wet smack of lead punching into flesh.

The man who had grabbed Forty-four spoke. “You’re right, scumbag,” he hissed. “I won’t risk it.” He did not bother with further explanation; Forty was going for his gun, but he had no chance. The Fisto Industries power fist on the other man’s right hand smashed into his chest, imploding his sternum and ribs and perforating his heart with splinters of bone, and snapping his spinal column like a dry stick. He was dead before his knees had time to buckle.

The leader of the group had disengaged himself and dropped, but the others rode smoothly down on ropes. Dylan looked up, but could not see or hear the source. The salvaged Enclave vertibird five hundred feet above Paradise Falls was running lights-out and in battery-only whisper mode, so it might as well have been a hole in the night.

There were four of them, all in blackened combat armor and hoods. The first one down, in addition to his power fist, had a plasma rifle slung. The second and third had silenced Heckler & Koch MP-10SD submachine guns. And the last had a customized 5mm minigun: clearly, she was there to provide extra firepower if noise level was no longer an issue.

The man with the power fist pulled back his hood, revealing a shoulder-length mane of golden-blond hair and two piercing eyes. “All of you, get into the building,” he told the slaves. “Once you’re in there, get down on the ground and stay there. Take shelter behind anything you can: mattresses, furniture, whatever.”

“What’s going on?” Dylan demanded. “Who are you people?”

“Name’s Daniel Quentin, and these are Reilly, Donovan, and Brick. We’re here to get you out of here.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Andrew looked up. More ropes, maybe? But could they get fifteen people out that way?

“The front door,” Daniel responded, and then his voice turned to ice. “The slavers will be in no condition to object by the time we’re done.”

“What? There’s just four of you! There have to be at least thirty men here! You can’t take them all by yourselves!”

“Actually, there are forty-two men and four women here, not including the slaves,” Daniel replied. He addressed Donovan, who was setting up some kind of device. “How’s it going?”

“Radio scrambler is fully charged,” was the reply. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Daniel Quentin pulled out a portable radio. “We’re ready here. Move in,” he said tersely. Then, he nodded to Donovan, who activated the device. There was no sign that anything had happened, aside from the fact that the radio way over in the eating area, which had been playing GNR, suddenly dissolved into static.

“What’s going on?” Dylan’s father demanded. He and his son were now rhe only ones present; the others had obediently proceeded into the slave houses. Daniel Quentin just had an air of authority about him, even though he was probably only a few years older than Dylan himself was.

“Radios are dark inside a 300-meter radius,” Daniel explained. “Your collars can’t be remote-detonated now.”

“But what about the slavers? You can’t take them all on!”

“And we don’t intend to,” the other replied. “We’re strictly here for defensive purposes: to keep them from massacring you.” He indicated Reilly, who was carefully deploying landmines across the gap between the slave pens and the rest of the Paradise Falls complex. Donovan was covering her with his submachine gun. “The rest of the team will be here shortly. They’ll handle the slavers.”

Something seemed to click in the elder Peterson’s head. “Wait a minute… Daniel Quentin… are you the man that the guy on the radio was always talking about? The one who did all that stuff? Saved those towns, I mean?”

“Not to mention that trapped company of rangers?” Brick quipped. “Yup, it’s him all right.”

“I think Three-dog inflated some stuff, though,” Daniel stated. It was actually sort of amusing, all the names that the DJ had come up for him. Paragon, Saint, Wasteland Savior, Restorer of Hope, Last Best Hope of Humanity. The latest handle was Herald of Tranquility. When Daniel had head that one, he had laughed so hard he inhaled a lungful of Nuka Cola and sent the stuff dribbling out his nose.

“It’s not just him. Lots of people are telling stories. They’re saying you have a Brotherhood of Steel bodyguard, and even a super mutant manservant, and you…”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” was the reply. “Cross is not my bodyguard, and Fawkes is certainly not my manservant. We’re a team, like Reilly’s Rangers here. It’s just that Cross was shot up when we hit Fort Bannister last week, so she’s coordinating the assault. And since Fawkes is a little big to be dangling from vertibirds, he’ll be leading the main force.” Reilly’s Rangers had no vertibird of their own, but they had learned rappelling down buildings after the fiasco that Daniel had saved them from, and had taught him as well. This made them the perfect choice to insert discreetly and protect the slaves from their tormenters.

“Main force?”

“Yeah, a little task force we threw together. Brotherhood initiates, Rivet City security, Regulators, these clowns.” He indicated the Rangers, got a playful shove from Brick in response. “We even got a couple of Outcasts to come and play, too.” He checked his watch. “Matter of fact, they should be within sight of the slavers soon, so better get yourselves inside. And down, for crying out loud. They can’t blow you up with the scrambler fired up, but they can shoot at you, and I don’t know how bulletproof those crappy old huts are.”

The two Peterson men hurried into the slave quarters. Dylan got down, but found a spot near the front of the building with a small hole he could peek through; like most thirteen-year-olds, he didn’t really understand the danger inherent. However, fortune often favors the foolish, and he would survive the ensuing events with some amazing stories to tell.

The silence continued for several more minutes. Reilly remained ready with her SMG, but no other slavers approached the slave pens. No one really liked being around Forty-four (no fewer than seventeen of his “counted” kills had been fellow slavers who irritated him), and it was known that he was on duty there at night. Then, commotion out front: the Regulators leading the way in had silenced weapons and were supposed to take down Grouse and his partner discreetly, but Grouse was not killed cleanly, and managed to get off a burst of return fire before they could finish him off.

The alarm went up. Slavers poured from their barracks and other buildings. Reilly and Donovan took up positions away from the minefield, and Daniel doffed his power fist in favor of his noisier but longer-ranged plasma rifle. Inside, Eulogy Jones hurried over to his PA system. “Attention out there, whoever you are,” he broadcasted, and it was audible throughout the compound and beyond. “There are fifteen slaves in here. And if you continue to attack us, they’re dead.”

The invading force, aware that the man’s threat was pretty much hollow at this point, did not respond. The door to the main complex, which has been hastily locked, blew down. Before the smoke even cleared, armored men and women stormed into Paradise Falls. At the front was an unmistakable figure, 240 centimeters of green skin, rockhard muscle, and combat armor wielding a gatling laser in extra-extra large. The slavers were ready to defend their territory, but against ragtag raiders or a coalition of wasteland chumps trying to rescue family members. This was a full-blown assault by a well-coordinated task force built around a core of Brotherhood shooters: they had stronger armor, deadlier weapons, and superior training, and it showed. The attackers sustained only a handful of casualties, none of them fatal. The slavers were not so lucky: more than a dozen were dispatched off to whatever hell awaited their kind in less than a minute. Of the rest, eight or nine tried to make their way to the slave pens, perhaps to hide, perhaps to secure hostages. The rest made for Eulogy’s pad, which was heavily fortified.

The ones seeking the slave pens had no chance at all. The leaders reached Reilly’s minefield and were splashed across the landscape by multiple detonations. As for the ones behind them, well, Brick had been itching to bring Eugene into play, and silence was no longer an issue. The stream of 5mm rounds cut down the remaining slavers in rapid sequence. Daniel only had to use his plasma rifle once; one slaver sidestepped Brick’s stream of lead. He got his gun up, then the Green Death sent a bolt right into his heart. He went over backward, an eight-inch crater blown in his chest.

Inside the house, Eulogy Jones made a decision. He might not be able to stop the attackers, but he could make their victory hollow. He set the remote in his hands to detonate all activated slave collars, even the ones on slaves who had yet to arrive. Without hesitation, he pushed the button, and exactly nothing happened. Not only were the slave pens in the 300-meter radio-free zone, but so was his quarters. Before he could figure out what to do next, the door opened and the remaining slavers poured into the building. Outside, the structure was quickly surrounded.

Dylan stared through the crack in awe. Moments before, the slavers had looked nearly invincible, but they had been ripped to pieces in minutes by the new arrivals. Now, they were around the slavers’ last stronghold. A half-dozen frag grenades went flying toward the windows. Some bounced off, others went in and exploded inside. A pair of troopers in black and red power armor stepped forward with missile launchers, which loosed high-explosive warheads that slammed into the building and seemed to shake the earth itself. Smoke poured from the holes. The missile launchers were deftly reloaded, then raised to fire again.

Before they could do so, the front door opened just a crack, and a long stick with a white shirt tied to it poked out and waved frantically back and forth. The universal signal for surrender had not changed in the last two centuries. The missile launcher troops lowered their weapons, and the plasma bolts and laser blasts slowed to a trickle, then stopped as one of the Brotherhood initiates shouted orders to cease fire. Daniel, at this point, left the others to guard the slave pen and took command of the situation. “Attention all of you!” he shouted. “You will drop all weapons! You will remove all armor! And you will emerge from this building with your hands on your head! If you fail to do exactly as we say, you will instantly be killed! You have two minutes, starting now!”

A long silence, and then a line of men and women shuffled slowly from the building. Many of them were clad in only their underwear, since they had been wearing only that under their armor. Some had bound-up wounds or were bleeding all over the place. These were diverted away from the group and sat down, and medics set to work on them. The unwounded ones were searched, then made to sit in a clear area. Daniel spoke to the group of them, and two of the group raised their hands. They were dragged roughly to their feet and marched to the slave pens.

“All right, listen up all of you,” Daniel said as he entered the slave quarters. “My name is Daniel Quentin. I am a Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel, and in command of this task force. It is my pleasure to inform you that Paradise Falls has been liberated, and you are all free as of now.” He paused, allowing the cheers to die down. “These two prisoners are techs. They’ll remove your necklaces for you.”

The two men were efficient at their work, and within five minutes, all of the men were de-collared. A few minutes after that, and the women were also, and were allowed to join their families. Dylan hurried over and hugged his mother. The Portashelter was also opened, and Kathryn joined the group as well. While this was going on, the rear guard had shown up, accompanied by a power-armored woman with chocolate-brown skin and short white hair. It was hard to figure out the exact chain of command for the group, but if Daniel was obviously in charge, she and the super mutant were directly under him. In addition to the nineteen slavers who were now prisoners, there were also a half-dozen grimy and surly-looking wasteland types with the weird hairstyles favored by raiders, and four vaguely military-looking men as well. These were, Dylan would later find out, prisoners taken from previous raids on a huge raider encampment and Talon Company’s base of operations.

Some time later, Dylan and his father joined a group of former slaves who were listening to Daniel explain how he had gotten in. “It was very simple, really: we were hooked on, 450 feet down 500 feet of rope. The vertibird flew in at an altitude of 600, so no one would see us or the rope. Once it was directly over the slave pen area, the bird dropped while we unhooked ourselves and slid quietly down, and there we were. Then, we just needed to keep you guys safe until Fawkes and the others could get here.” He indicated the large, green figure in combat armor. At his request, Brotherhood techs had built the suit for his friend. It was still unmarked, Lyons and his colleagues were still debating whether a non-human could join their ranks.

Young Eric's dad had been the closest thing Dylan's town had had to a mayor, and he was as mentioned among the dead. So, Mr. Peterson spoke for their group. “What’s going to happen to the prisoners?”

“They’ll be given a fair trial,” Daniel said. “After that, I’m not sure as of yet.”

“I don’t think anyone here would object if you just shot ‘em all,” Dylan’s father said. “After what they’ve been doing, they deserve it.”

“Noted, but that’s not going to happen,” Daniel said firmly. “First of all, word would get out, and any groups like this we face in the future will fight to the last instead of surrendering, and more of my people will die. Second, they’re more valuable to us alive, because there are a lot of nasty, dangerous jobs that need doing, but no one wants to do. A nice chain gang would be the ideal solution. And finally, holding mass executions would make us pretty much just like the evil scum we’re trying to fight.”

Mr. Peterson sighed; understandably, he wanted to see his friends properly avenged, but he could not disagree with the younger man’s reasoning. “I guess you have a point.”

“I heard of what happened at your village, and I knew the man in charge of that atrocity from before. Had I not killed him already, he would certainly have been executed, for that act if not others,” Daniel said. “The others will be given a fair trial, by a military tribunal that doesn’t include me. If their crimes are especially severe, you may be assured that they will pay the ultimate price. But I will not condone large-scale slaughter.”

“I admit the idea of a chain gang makes sense, but how will you keep them under control? It wouldn’t be hard for them to flee into the wastes, would it?”

“We’re working on that, too,” Daniel responded.

Dylan spoke up as an idea occured to them. “What about those collars the slavers made us wear?”

Daniel’s eyes locked on the boy. “The collars?”

“Yeah. If they ran, you could blow them u…”

“Dylan!” snapped Mr. Peterson.

“Actually, your son has a very good idea,” Daniel said. “Matter of fact, it might be the solution we’ve been looking for. It’s simple technology, probably very reliable too. I’ll talk to the Scribes, see if they can adapt it.” He led the two away from the prisoners. “Now, about your group. You say that your home is gone?”

“Yes. The bastards put it to the torch. We’ve lost everything. And Hannah over there is an orphan now.” He indicated the seven-year-old, who was clinging to his wife’s hand. She had been the dead woman’s closest friend. “Don’t know what we’re going to do about her. I’m sure my wife would love to take her in, but we’re barely feeding ourselves here. It wouldn’t be fair to us or the kid.”

“I’m very sorry about everything that happened,” Daniel said softly. “And I wish we could have hit these scumbags a long time ago, but assembling this task force took time.” He considered. “We’re going to turn Paradise Falls over to the Regulators. Their old HQ was overrun by giant radscorpions, if you can believe it, they're getting to be a real problem over in that area. The Regs’ll be operating out of Eulogy’s quarters, provide law enforcement for the area and take care of any slavers who show up. But there’s room in other parts of the place for more people. Plus they’ve got a little saloon, a store of sorts, a doctor’s office, and the slave pens might be unfit for humans, but they can be used to hold livestock. Once the fortifications have been rebuilt, it’ll be a safe place, too. Whether your people stay or not, they’ll be entitled to a share of everything here: caps, guns, ammo, food, whatever. These bastards were incredibly wealthy.”

“I’ll talk to the others about it.”

“As for the little girl, if no one from your group can give her a home, I will personally transport her to Rivet City.” Little Lamplight was still several months away from closing down altogether, but it had long ago stopped taking in new arrivals as its inhabitants took a last stand against starvation. Rivet City was the new go-to place for orphaned children. “They’ll take good care of her there.”

Mr. Peterson eyed him carefully. “Is that where you come from?”

“No, I’m from Megaton.” He did not announce himself as mayor, even though he was, because he did not know he was as of yet. Lucas Simms had taken command of the Regulators on this very campaign, and Daniel had been elected in absentia as his replacement.

“Is there room there?”

Daniel considered. “For a few people, I think.”

Dylan’s father didn’t hesitate. “Then I think I’d like to move my family there, if that’s OK with you.”

“Certainly it is, but if you don’t mind my asking, why Megaton?” Rivet City was safer and had more jobs, and Tenpenny Tower was nicer. And, both had designated security. Megaton residents were expected to look after themselves, to the point that if you were seen walking the streets of the town without a weapon of some sort, you got some rather odd looks.

“Because I’ve heard of you, Mr. Quentin,” Peterson responded. “And what I’ve seen of you suggests that at least most of the stories are true. You’re a warrior if ever there was one, but you’re compassionate, even to people who don’t deserve it. You help those in need, and you don’t ask for a reward. Any place where you live is going to be safe, but it’s going to treat its people fairly. You wouldn’t tolerate anything else. That’s the kind of place I want my son growing up.”

Daniel nodded acceptance. He knew that he was not the white knight he was being described as, but he had to admit that what Andrew had just said was at least mostly true. “All right. Megaton it is.”

OK, here comes the second part of the story of young Dylan and his encounters with the Lone Wanderer, and how the world changes as a result. It's long, so I'll serve it up in two installments. That, and a final AU chapter (I'll explain why when I post it), I think will spell the end of this long and convoluted post. Still looking for good material in NV, I think I see definite potential in Boone's sad story. But I'll start a new topic for that...


S3. Community Service

1. The Jericho Affair

Dylan Peterson tried not to squirm as he sat and waited, but he couldn’t help it, nervousness would do that to you. And he was nervous, and underestandably so.

It had been three weeks since his family had reached Megaton, and a part of him was still adjusting to the changes that had occured in his life. First and foremost was the food and water. For as long as Dylan could remember, going to bed with a full belly had been a rare luxury in the collection of weathered ramshackle buildings that had been his original home. However, Megaton was not expanding as explosively as Rivet City was, but it was flourishing. There was no shortage of honest work, and plenty of food, water, and caps for those willing to pitch in at it. It wasn't always the best of food, sometimes all the Brass Lantern had was fillet of ant or ground mole-rat, but starvation was no longer even a remote threat.

Another adjustment was that Dylan was no longer an only child. His parents chief concern with taking in Hannah, their friend’s orphaned daughter, had been the very real question of whether they could feed four mouths instead of three. Daniel Quentin, had asked them to look after the girl for a time; it seemed that he had just been elected mayor and needed a few days in town to get some stuff sorted out. By the time he was able to travel to Rivet City, which was where orphaned wasteland kids typically went these days, it had become quite obvious to the Petersons that there would be more than enough food and clean water for all of them. And by then, they had gotten hopelessly attached to the kid, Dylan included.

However, if want was not a concern, boredom very much was. That was why Dylan and Mark, who was twelve and also fairly new in town and Dylan’s new best friend, had gotten themselves into trouble.

Daniel Quentin entered the room, tall and forbidding, his eyes ice-cold, just as they had been when they first met, and Daniel had literally dropped out of the sky and into his family's life. Dylan shivered at the memory of what he had seen at Paradise Falls. Not only had he taken down that slaver guard without hesitation, but of the twenty-nine prisoners, only twenty-seven had left the former slaver complex alive.

Over the course of three days, they had indeed received the fair trial promised to them, via a panel of three persons designated as judges. Daniel had refused to serve as one, feeling that a nineteen-year-old was not a good choice for the job. Star Paladin Cross, the highest-ranking Brotherhood officer present, had led it. Reilly and Lucas Simms had been selected to serve with her. At Cross’s insistence, death sentences had to be agreed on unanimously. The prisoners were all obviously guilty, so the verdicts were uniform, but sentences varied a lot. Cutter, the medic, had gotten off pretty easy. She had been a slave herself until buying her own freedom; after that, she had gone to work there because the money was good. The court had sentenced her to two years in Paradise Falls, providing at-cost medical care to the Regulators and their guests as a community service. A teen-aged slaver, new to the trade, had gotten off with a two-year term as well. Of the rest, most received sentences of five or ten years. Persons with specialized skills like medicine or repair would do that; those skills were too valuable to waste. The rest were assigned to simple hard labor.

However, in addition to the decimation of Dylan’s home and the coldblooded murder of the Nu?ez’s, Carolina Red was found guilty of all manner of murders and atrocities. And, evidence from Fort Bannister’s computers revealed that one of the four captured Talon Mercs had participated in the butchery of a town full of women and children. The court sentenced both of them to death. Mayor Quentin had not carried out the sentences, but had been present for them. Dylan’s parents had refused to let him watch either execution, but a resourceful and determined thirteen-year-old can often figure out a way to do things his parents don’t want him to, and he had managed to get to a place where he could observe the second one from the shadows. He would never forget the deadly chill in Daniel’s eyes as he handed his plasma rifle to the Nu?ezs' still-grieving daughter, and stood silently by as she disintegrated the murderous female slaver's head with it.

And now, that man was the mayor of Dylan’s new hometown, and the man that he had run afoul of for the second time in a week.

“All right, Mr. Peterson,” Daniel said harshly. “Explain yourself.”

“We weren’t doing anything,” Dylan protested.

Daniel’s response was to stride over to him and pick him up by the shirt. One-handed. Dylan was skinny for thirteen, but it was still a good seventy-pound lift. Dylan was sure he was going to be slapped or worse, even though Daniel was known to dislike hitting people who couldn't hit back. But, he merely shook the boy hard, then dumped him back down on the bench. “You were breaking into someone’s house!” he shouted. “And for crying out loud, Jericho’s house!”

“What about him?” Dylan demanded. “The old bastard beat Mark up!” Sixty-five years old or not, the ex-raider had lightning reflexes and deceptive strength. Had he not been half-drunk, he might have been quick enough to catch and pound both of them. As it was, Dylan had escaped, but his friend was in the infirmary with several broken bones.

Daniel forced calm into his tone. “And you’re damn lucky he didn’t shoot you both. It would have been perfectly legal, you know.” Megaton’s laws were pretty simple: a person’s home was his castle. Break into it, or even try to, and you were fair game. Lucas Simms had established that law, and Daniel had no intention of altering it.

He indicated for the boy to move over, and sat down on the bench next to him. “I spoke to Doc Church. Mark’s going to be all right. He’ll have a few battle scars, but that’s all.” Jericho was no saint, but even he drew the line at killing unarmed children. “I figure he paid for his part in this debacle, so I’m dropping the charges against him. Now, that brings us to you.”

Before Dylan could reply, the door flew open, revealing Andrew Peterson. The man was something of a sight, having been called from his job at the small scrap metal processing plant just outside the town walls. It was dirty work to say the least. He had stopped only to strip off his sooty jumpsuit and pick up his rifle (Daniel himself had given him the weapon as soon as he arrived, all Megaton residents were expected to have at least one operable firearm in their household). He was talking a mile a minute the moment the door opened: “Oh, good, you’re here. I came as soon as I heard. I’m sorry about this, I really am. He’s really not like this, sir. He’s always been… well, I mean, we’re going through a rough patch, the family is, adjusting to a new place. And a new family member, too, what with helping Hannah work through losing her mom, maybe we haven’t been paying enough attention to hi…”

Daniel raised his hand. “Relax, Mr. Peterson. And please don’t blame yourself. I’ve seen this before. Two or three normally good kids get together, they get bored, and they start raising hell. It happened in the vault where I grew up, too. So just calm down. I’m not happy with your boy, but we’ll work this mess out. For starters, I want to know why Dylan was doing what he was doing.”

At this point, both men turned to Dylan, who stammered out his story. Rumor had it that Jericho had run with one of those raider gangs in his younger years, and that he still kept certain “trophies” in his house. The boys had tried to jimmy the lock to get in, but the old raider had found them before they could finish the job. He had been tired and tipsy and not at all amused to say the least. They had tried to run. Dylan, skinny and quick, had escaped. Once he reached the other side of the small town, he had turned expecting to see his shorter, sturdier friend behind him, but he wasn’t there. He had backtracked on tiptoe, and had arrived to find a crowd gathering around the fallen, bleeding form on the ground. Doc Church had arrived a short time later with a stretcher, and the boy had been transported to the clinic. Daniel had grabbed Dylan and marched him to his office, then left to check on the injured party, and to question Jericho.

When it was over, Daniel shook his head. “You know, I was ready to let the last incident slide,” he said. “Yeah, what you two did was rotten, making little Maggie cry like that, but boys will be boys.” Even Billy Creel, Maggie’s devoted foster father, had been of that mind. “But this is serious business. What the hell were you two thinking?”

“I don’t know… we… just had nothing to do,” Dylan said shamefacedly.

“Well, we can fix that,” Daniel responded grimly. “For your part in this, I’m sentencing you to ten days of community service around town.”

“Uhh… what does that mean?”

“It means I have plenty of totally safe but extremely unpleasant jobs that need doing, and you’re gonna do ‘em. You’ll be free to go home for lunch and of course for the night, I’m not going to keep you locked up or anything. But I want you at this door at 7:30 AM tomorrow morning and for the next nine days after that, wearing clothes you don’t mind getting dirty. Are we understood?”

Dylan nodded. “Yessir.”

“Good. Then you’re dismissed.”

Before anyone could do anything, Mrs. Peterson hurried into the office, little Hannah in tow. “What’s going on? I heard Dylan had been arrested again.”

“It’s all right,” her husband assured her. “We’ve worked things out.”

Hannah, meanwhile, went up to Daniel. “Mr. Quentin? Are you gonna put Dylan in jail?”

The wintry chill on Daniel’s face melted as he smiled at the girl, then beckoned to her. She came over, and he scooped her up in his arms. “No, darling,” he assured her gently. “He’s been bad, so he’s going to do some work for me the next few days, but that’s all. You can go home now.”

"Dylan too?" the girl queried.

"Yes, Dylan too," the mayor assured her, gently placing her on the floor.

“Thank you, Mr. Quentin,” Andrew Peterson said, grabbing his son by the arm, none too gently. Dylan had a bad feeling that he and his dad would be having a chat on this subject when they got home. The same kind of chat they had had after the Maggie incident, the kind that involved his dad’s belt and the seat of his pants. However, he was lucky this time. Andrew said to him instead: “You’re going straight to bed when we get home. No dinner, nothing to eat at all.”

“Well and good, but make sure he at least gets a good breakfast tomorrow,” Daniel counseled. “He’s got a long day ahead of him, and I'd just as soon not have him passing out on the job.”

Dylan swallowed hard as he followed his father out into the night.

*~*~*~*

After they had left, Daniel sat in his office, more pensive than usual. This latest incident had upset him quite a bit. The Petersons were Megaton’s newest citizens, and he liked them a lot. Andrew was an honest and hardworking man, and he was doing everything he could to make a good impression (the fact that he insisted on carrying his rifle everywhere the way most Megaton folk did was a classic example). His wife was kind and well-liked, and their foster daughter had charmed nearly everyone she met, including Daniel himself. And Dylan, though full of energy as any healthy teen, was a good kid: personable, helpful, intelligent. They were just the kind of people he wanted in his town.

Star Paladin Cross (his aide, Brotherhood liason, longtime comerade-at-arms, and closest friend) walked in. “I heard about what happened,” she said. “Is everyone all right?”

“Nothing too serious. I’ve spoken to Jericho, but he says he was within his rights, and it’s true.” He made a face at that. Jericho was the man that he was, an unrepentant bastard, but an essentially law-abiding one. And darn good with a rifle if the town came under attack, so Daniel rather liked having him around. “Young Mark’s a mess, but he’s regained consciousness; his grandma’s with him now. The doc says he can probably go home tomorrow, and should be good as new in a month or so. And as for Dylan, I expect he’s going to be very hungry tonight.”

Cross nodded gravely. Neither of them had the slightest problem with that. Children were as cherished in the capital wasteland as anywhere else, but they were expected to behave, and strict punishments were the norm when they did not. Daniel had enacted laws that protected the children of his town from severe abuses, but traditional punishments like a sore posterior or a mouthful of soap or going to bed without any supper were entirely acceptable. Young Mark's grandmother, who was raising him alone since his parents were dead, was a firm believer in the latter punishment. She was a very able seamstress, made a good living, and was tough as nails. But the wasteland was a rough place for an older woman and a kid, so for her, the safe haven of Megaton had been a godsend.

Daniel sighed. “Damn it, Cross, I know those two boys. I've talked with them, and I understand what they’re going through. They aren’t perfect, but they’re not bad kids. They’re just bored out of their skulls.” He shook his head in frustration. “And they’re not the only ones dealing with it, either. The younger ones might be watched more closely, but they’re squabbling and…”

“I know,” Cross said. “Things are similar in Rivet City.”

“It wasn’t so bad in the vault,” Daniel said. “We had a school there. Our teacher’s name was Mr. Brotch, so of course we called him Mr. Crotch when he wasn’t around, but he was OK most of the time. And when we got out of school, we had work assignments. Even Butch couldn’t get in too much trouble with all that going on. But here, all the kids do is sit around or run wild all day. It’s different out in the wastes, where they had to be struggling to stay alive all the time. They’re safe here, and they need something to do.”

As was her custom, Cross heard him out, then calmly gave him sage advice. “Well, I hardly need to remind you that you’re the mayor now. It’s your problem. What do you propose to do about it?”

“Not sure.” He considered. “In Rivet City, they don’t have a school, but they have an orphan’s home of some sort.” He was not telling Cross this, she already knew, he was just anolyzing the situation out loud.

Cross nodded. They (and Fawkes) had once encountered an orphaned girl of eleven who was dying of dehydration in the wastes. She had been trying to get to Little Lamplight, but had wandered off-course. Daniel had known that the Lamplighters’ food supplies were already critically low; Macready had taken a big risk admitting Bryan Wilkes for him, and he had made it clear that he would not take anyone else. So, they had escorted her the other way across the wastes to Rivet City, where she had been taken in hand by the people there.

Daniel remembered his subsequent visit to the converted carrier. He had made inquiries with Harkness, and was informed that the girl had been adopted. He had seen her and her new parents around on subsequent visits as well. “Father Clifford runs it, right?”

“Yes, he does.” Cross had spoken with the man. “He says it’s been a tradition for the Catholic Church to administer orphanages.”

That last reminded Daniel of another difficulty that the town was facing. “And schools as well,” he mused. It did not take much more thought for the solution to both difficulties to present itself. “Cross, I need you to take care of things here tomorrow. I have business in Rivet City.”

Bravo!!! absolutly amazing. Maybe 3 or 4 spelling mistakes. it was an awesome story. great detail too. i could almost imagine everything you typed like a movie in my mind. lol. absolutly beautiful!!!!!!!

Probably typos, my spelling is pretty good.

No violence in this chapter, by the way. Daniel Quentin is a hero not because he seeks out evil and strikes it down wherever he finds it. He is a hero because he does what needs to be done. And the conflict he faces today is one that cannot be solved with a plasma rifle.

I have had the privilege of having a number of Catholics in my family. As passionately as I disagree with many of their traditions (like the one being discussed in the following), I deeply respect and admire them, and consider it a privilege to know them. I am deeply saddened by the scandals that have shaken the church in recent years, blackening the reputations of many people who have been nothing but decent and honorable. Let us never forget that the bad apples who get all the press are the extremely rare exception, not the rule.


2. A Theological Debate

Daniel was up early the next day. He remained in town long enough to greet Dylan and set him to work swabbing out the men’s restroom (which was filthy and reeked to high heaven), then headed for the Super Mart, and the docks there.

Barge traffic between the cities was light these days. Two units were salvaged and a third was undergoing final construction, but one of the two working ones was in dry-dock having a steam power plant installed. It would be three times faster once it was finished, but for now, there was just one barge, and it was propelled by crewmen with long poles. It made for safe, but horrendously slow, transit. And, all able-bodied passengers were expected to grab a pole and help out. As a VIP, Daniel could have declined to do so, but he had never been comfortable with sitting around when there was honest work to be done. He simply removed his shirt and pistol holster, then picked up a spare pole and set to work alongside the rest of the boat's crew. By the time the barge pulled up next to Rivet City, it was one in the afternoon and he was soaking with sweat. Wanting to be at least somewhat presentable, he kicked off his trousers and shoes and jumped into the water, which was pretty much rad-free, drinking as he swam about. It was a delicious experience, and not a common one for Megaton citizens; there just wasn’t enough clean water there yet.

After lying in the sun until his boxers were dry, then putting on his remaining clothes, he made his way to Gary’s Galley and ordered Mirelurk cakes and Nuka Cola. Once he was properly fortified, he turned to Gary. “Is your son-in-law handy? I need to have a chat with him.”

He actually needed to have a chat with both Diego and Angela, since what he was proposing affected both of them. Angela was present, but her husband was doing some sort of cleaning detail (since he had given up the priesthood, he had to help in other ways). Once he arrived, the discussion was fairly straightforward. Diego, being the godly young man that he was, could not have said no when he heard of what the town of Megaton required of him. And Angela would have followed her beloved to the ends of the earth, if necessary. However, that left Daniel with a somewhat more daunting task. He had already done what he came to do, but he was of the mind that what was worth doing was worth doing right. To that end, he headed onto the midship deck, and St. Monica’s Church.

Father Clifford was there, standing at the pulpit with a pencil in his hand. He was obviously hard at work on something, his next sermon perhaps. “Mayor Quentin!” he said in surprise. “What brings you here?”

"Please, Father, the name's Daniel," was the reply. "I'm still the same guy who popped in here last September, looking for his dad."

Clifford smiled, remembering a much younger-looking and less confidant version of the man who stood before him. "I remember. What can I do for you, Daniel?"

“I need to speak with you, Father,” Daniel replied. “In private, if that’s all right.”

“Certainly,” Clifford said, beckoning the younger man into the rectory. Once the door was closed, he motioned to a seat. “Now, what’s on your mind?”

Daniel got to the point. “I want to take Diego, your former acolyte, to Megaton with me.”

“That is no longer my concern, sir,” Clifford replied. “Diego gave up the priesthood to marry young Miss Staley.”

“I’m aware of that,” Daniel said. He was also aware that it was very possible that Miss Staley had used ant queen pheremones to force Diego’s hand in that regard. He was not certain, though, and would not have mentioned it even if he had been. It was water under the bridge. “But I’m afraid Megaton needs him in that very capacity.”

"May I ask why?"

Daniel explained. His town had only just gotten rid of one weird cult (the Church of Atom) when another one showed up, a much more dangerous one. Their irradiated Aqua Pura had killed one Megaton resident outright and sent several more to Doc Church with rad poisoning. They had been dealt with severely, but Daniel knew it was only a matter of time before another bunch of loonies showed up.

"And you feel that if you have an established church already, you won't have this issue," Clifford guessed.

"Right in one," Daniel confirmed. "Additionally, I have a lot of kids in my town, and we need a school. And I hardly need to tell you that the Catholic Church has a long tradition of educating children. Diego and Angela have already agreed to take on this responsibility as well."

"The school is no problem," Clifford stated. "However, Diego knew that to be a priest, he would have to take a vow of…”

“Yes, I know the tradition,” Daniel interrupted. “However, consider this. The Vatican was incinerated two centuries ago. The city of Rome is a giant radioactive crater. All you have left to rely on is this.” He picked up the Bible from the desk next to him. Bibles were a little hard to find, but there had been vast numbers of them before the war, courtesy of an organization called the Gideons, so they were still available to those who wanted them. “Now can you please tell me where in this book it says that priests have to be celibate?”

He already knew the answer to the question. Before leaving the vault, he had been earmarked as its next marriage counselor. Since religious issues often divided otherwise well-matched couples, he had been given solid theological training, especially in matters where marriage were concerned. He knew that in an even theological debate, the priest would mop up the floor with him. However, he knew that he had an edge: quite simply, he was right, and Catholic tradition was wrong.

So, he was not surprised when Clifford looked up I Corinthians 7. Indeed, he had been expecting it. “You will note, I am certain, that there is nothing whatsoever in this passage requiring anyone to remain unmarried. Indeed, I would suggest that it actively forbids such a thing.”

Clifford did not back down. “It is the law of the church, though.”

“It is madmade tradition, it made very little sense before the war, and it makes no sense whatsoever today,” Daniel said. “And I reiterate: it violates the laws laid down right here.” He tapped the cover of the Bible for emphasis. “I’m no theologian, but I would suggest that if a man-made rule clashes with the precepts laid down in this book, it is not valid.”

“I would suggest in response,” Clifford said, not to be outdone, “that it is not a violation of God’s law, but rather an effort to go beyond what He asks.”

“God knows all about people who try to ‘go beyond what He asks’,” Daniel shot back, and despite his determination to keep the discussion friendly, a bit of anger seeped into his tone. “When He paid us a visit, some of them had Him hung on a cross.”

Clifford opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever the Roman Catholic Church had added in over their long history, they still took the gospels at face value, and what Daniel had said came directly from their pages. Christ’s crucifixion had been engineered by Jewish religious leaders who made a living by producing long lists of essentially meaningless rules and forcing them on the people as "God's will".

Daniel went on, more gently. “Father, I’m not particularly religious. Given the number of people I’ve killed, the Good Lord probably gave up on me long ago. But Megaton is my town now, and its citizens are my responsibility. It needs a proper church and someone with the training to run it, and you can’t be in two places at once. Diego knows this as well as we do. He says that the Spirit has spoken to him, and he will follow no matter what you say, so I’ve done what I came here to do already. I’m here strictly for his sake: you raised him and taught him everything he knows. I know that your approval, your blessing, means a lot to him. And so, I am asking you…”

Clifford raised his hand. “I understand what you are asking,” he said. “I will need to give it some thought. And lots of prayer.”

Daniel nodded acceptance. He expected nothing less. It wasn’t easy to ask a man to make a fundamental change in his beliefs. “That’s all I can ask for.” He stood, offered his hand. Clifford shook it. “I have to go now. They’re holding the barge for me, but they’d like to get to Wilhem’s Wharf by nightfall.”

As he headed for the exit, the padre recalled him. “Daniel…”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you may have done in your travels, you are a very compassionate, caring, and honorable man,” Clifford responded. “I do not believe for one moment that God has washed His hands of you. And neither should you.”

Daniel smiled at the older man. “Thank you, Father,” he said. “That means a lot.”


3. A Smarter Future

Dylan mopped sweat from his brow, and tried not to inhale as he walked toward the city gate with yet another bucketful of Brahmin crap. The last week had been an excruciating experience: up at seven, a hurried breakfast, and down in front of the mayor’s office by half-past. Then, ten hours of hard labor; with an hour for lunch it was usually sunset by the time he finished. And the work itself was by far the nastiest he had ever done. Once he had cleaned the bathrooms out, he had had to sweep, scrub, and mop out the common room and the empty building that had once housed the church of Atom. When that done, Daniel had had him report to the purification plant and help old Nathan with some simple repairs in hard-to-reach spaces. Now, he was on fertilization detail, and he really didn’t know how much more he could take. Daniel had said ten days, and this was still early on day eight. He knew that he had deserved to be punished, but enough already! He’d learned his lesson.

Once he had dumped the stinking bucket in a patch of freshly tilled earth just outside the city, he set about using a salvaged rake to mix its contents in with the dirt. Brahmin droppings had the same rad-absorbing power as their milk, so in time, it would render the soil fertile. Crops wouldn’t grow as fast in ordinary soil as they would in one of Dr. Li’s hydroponics labs, but the amount of space available was many, many times greater. Once they had a few dozen acres of proper farmland, they would be able to feed hundreds of people instead of dozens. So at least, he supposed, he was doing something that would benefit him and his new home in the end. But the smell was enough to make a feral ghoul puke.

Daniel showed up as he was spreading the last of the muck around. “How’s it going, Dylan?” he queried.

“All right, I guess. I’ve got a couple more bucketfuls left,” Dylan said. “Can I break for lunch after this is done, Mr. Quentin?”

“Actually, you can stop this for now. I am officially comandeering your services, as per my mayoral prerogative."

"Uhh.. what does that mean?"

"It means I have something else for you to do,” the mayor replied with a chuckle. “Come with me.”

Dylan was glad to set aside the rake and bucket to go with the man. They pvssyd as they walked along; though the boy was there as punishment, Daniel saw no need to berate or humilate him. He was pleased to hear that Dylan’s mom was very happy helping Manya manage the smaller children while their parents worked, and that Hannah seemed to be having fewer nightmares about the death of her mother. They passed the Super Mart, and reached the newly refurbished dock by the river. A barge was on its way, they saw the plume of smoke before they saw the boat itself. The first steam-powered barge had come off the ways three days ago and was now making regular circuits. The barge he had been on previously was getting refitted with an engine, and would be back in two weeks. And the third barge was now watertight, and its turn would come next. With three barges, they would be able to do multiple runs per day, and the more trustworthy prisoners were only happy to mine and shovel coal for them. The alternative, after all, was dodging Mirelurks in the bowels of Rivet City.

The barge pulled up to the pier, and Dylan could now see that it was carrying two people and an assortment of boxes and crates and suitcases. Even in Post-Apocalyptia, relocating meant carrying a large amount of gear. The new arrivals were a dark-complected man about Daniel’s age, and a blond woman (girl?) a year or two younger. Daniel grinned at them. “Good to see you, both of you. This is Dylan, he’ll be your oldest student.”

"Student?" Dylan queried. Daniel had not kept him up to speed on his latest project.

“Hello, Dylan,” the girl said. “I’m Angela. This is Diego.”

“Let me give you a hand with your gear,” Daniel said. “Dylan, you grab something too.”

With difficulty, they were able to get everything in one load, thanks mainly to Daniel, who had the strength of a pack Brahmin. “I’ll show you the space we’ve got for you. It needs some furnishings, but it’s a nice large place.”

“How many kids will we have?” Angela wanted to know.

“Well, let’s see,” Daniel said. “Harden’s gone now, he joined his dad and the other Regs in Paradise Falls. But he might actually return, at least part of the time, I know Lucas wanted to find a way to send him to school. In the meantime, we’ve got Maggie, Mark if he's well enough, and of course Dylan and his younger sister. Two, three others between the ages of six and thirteen, plus a couple young ones in Grayditch who may want to come too. And numbers will probably grow, Megaton’s turning into some pretty desirable real estate. And once the Purity Line reaches us in a few months, it’ll be even better.”

Diego nodded approval. The Purity Line was the point at which the water in the Potomac was sufficiently radiation-free that a good purification plant could reduce the rad count to zero. Once the Line reached a settlement’s intake pipes, it had an essentially unlimited supply of clean water, rather than what the Brotherhood and Rivet City Security could tote out to them in barrels.

Dylan had questions, but he was laden down with a heavy crate, and could not walk and talk at the same time. He was exhausted by the time they reached the old Church of Atom building, where they all put down their burdens and flopped into chairs. Daniel went out and returned with a plate of sandwiches and some water bottles from the Brass Lantern, which he put on a handy table. Diego and Angela happily fell to. Daniel indicated the food. "Help yourself, kid," he told Dylan, and the latter did not need a second invitation. They ate in silence until the food was gone, which with four people their age didn't take long at all.

Diego finished his water, then looked around in approval. “Nice space. And clean.”

“Thank this one for that,” Daniel said, indicating Dylan. “This place was a trash heap when he started.”

“He does good work,” Angela said.

“Might even hire him on for real,” Daniel added. Dylan’s eyes went wide with horror, and he chuckled. “Relax, boy. It’ll be much easier work. And of course, you’ll get caps for it.”

Dylan considered this. His parents were both saving up their caps for things the family needed, so they did not give him much in the way of pocket money. He definitely liked the idea of having caps of his own. Megaton received plenty of merchant traffic, and he often saw things he wanted in their inventory. Still, he wanted to know a little more what he would be asked to do. He was definitely not scrubbing any more toilets.

“Do you think that all of the children in town will want to attend school?” Diego queried. “I mean, you’re not making it mandatory, are you?”

“No, I won't go that far,” Daniel admitted. “But I can apply pressure. I’ve already announced that I’m imposing an anti-delinquency law as soon as school starts. Kids under fifteen will not be allowed on the street during school hours unless they're with a parent. Given a choice between sitting cooped up in their houses or learning stuff with their friends, I think most of them will choose the latter.”

“Will they have time to go out and play?” Angela wanted to know.

“Yes, of course they will. I’ve even got a work crew coming to move some playground fixtures from the Springvale campus. And I have an idea about something we can do with that bomb, too.”

“What am I supposed to be teaching them?” Angela queried. “I mean, reading and writing, of course, and math. And I expect Diego’ll be teaching them Bible lessons and stuff.” It had been agreed already that with the church administering the school, seperation of church and state was irrelevant. “But what else should we offer?”

“It won’t be only the two of you,” Daniel assured him. He had been busy in the past week, in addition to his usual mayoral duties and overseeing Dylan, he had been talking with some of his citizens. “I’ve got some other people lined up to help you out. Billy Creel’s delighted to see a school opening up, and says he’ll teach wasteland survival one day a week, no charge. And even markmanship for the older ones, if the town agrees to supply the ammo. Manya knows a lot of history, and Dylan’s mom can handle the kids alone one day a week while she comes and helps out. And, I think I can get Moira Brown to commit to the same.” The latter woman was a little odd, but she knew a lot about a lot of things. "And I also took the liberty of scavenging around for stuff you could use." He indicated a crate full of books and other items in the corner.

“That’ll be a big help,” Angela said. “I don’t feel quite so overwhelmed anymore.”

“Good. When do you think you’ll be ready to open up?”

“We really don’t have much to do there,” Angela said. “We did most of our preparation in Rivet City.” For her, it had involved amassing as many usable school-friendly books as possible. Diego had done much of the same, between long talks with his mentor, Father Clifford. Whether the latter had actually been convinced by Daniel or whether he simply knew a fait accompli when he saw one, the good padre had chosen to accept Diego's resumption of the priesthood.

Diego nodded agreement. “I think we just need the rest of the day to get unpacked. Tomorrow morning too soon? Say, eight o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll go spread the word right away,” Daniel assured her. Megaton had just over fifty souls, so that would not be difficult. As he faced the exit, he stopped cold. “Dylan.”

Dylan started at the mention of his name. “Yeah?”

Daniel turned and addressed him sternly. “Your final assignment for the day is to help these two get unpacked and settled in. When they are done with you, you may go home.” A pause, then he lightened up a bit. “Also, I want you to be able to attend school from Day One. To that end, I am commuting your last two days of work, that means you don’t have to do them. I believe that the situation that got you into trouble has been dealt with.”

“Really? Thanks a lot!” Dylan gushed, scarcely believing his luck.

Daniel smiled in response, then added: “There is one condition. I expect to see you and Hannah at the entrance to this building tomorrow morning at eight AM sharp, fresh-faced, bright-eyed, and ready to learn.”

“Yes, sir,” Dylan replied.

“Good. And just so we’re clear, I also expect you to behave yourself from now on,” Daniel finished. “Because if you don’t, you and I are going to have serious problems. And trust me: you don’t want that.”

Dylan looked the mayor in the eye. He was still friendly-faced, like he usually was. The younger children of Megaton, his foster sister included, often ran to him to hug his leg or clamor to be picked up. Young kids did not react that way to someone who was typically mean or frightening. But at that moment, there was just a hint of coldness in him. Not the icy-hard countenance that he had worn when he watched a slaver named Carolina Red get sent off to meet her Maker. Just a very faint echo of it. And that was more than enough to tell Dylan that the man was most assuredly not kidding.

“I understand, Mr. Quentin,” he said.

THE END of COMMUNITY SERVICE

OK... this is the last supplemental bit.

The one thing I regretted doing in this story, after I did it of course, was the death of Robert J. Macready. I mean, yeah, he was an obnoxious little twerp with a severe potty mouth. And yes, he died well, and in the end that's all that matters (according to Sarah Lyons, anyway). However, I think that his character had potential, not because of where I could have him happily end up, but because there was no happy ending in the cards for him. I think that there is something very poignant in discovering that the world has changed, and you no longer have a place in it.

To that end, I decided to write the following AU chapter, in which R. J. survived his encounter with the Deathclaw. He stood silently by as his Lamplighters found new lives for themselves. And when they were all safely settled... well, keep reading. This chapter is set after Ch. 11, and before the epilogue, hence the numbering. Do note, however, that it is strictly AU.


12. Macready - The Road to Nowhere

The former Republic of Dave, newly rechistened the Democracy of Rosie, lay some distance to the southwest. The windmill in the distance that pumped the place’s water was just visible in the distance. Two figures, a man and a boy, stood at the very northeastern corner of the rectangular area that was traditionally regarded as the Capital Wasteland. One of them would be going further, the other would not.

Robert J. Macready looked up at the man with him. “You didn’t have to come with me all this way, mungo.” He was obviously trying to appear irritated, but it was pretty obvious that it was just an act. He would never have admitted it, but he appreciated the moral support.

“It's no problem, kid. We were out here anyway,” Daniel Quentin countered evenly, and indeed it was so. There was a rash of giant radscorpions out in this area, and it had been getting worse for months. Finally, after one of them had fatally stung her husband (and predacessor) while he was on a hunting trip, newly-elected President Rosie had sent a missive to Megaton requesting assistance. Daniel had gathered together his team again, and they had spent the day hunting down and killing as many of the deadly arthopods as possible, then harvesting their poison glands. They were planning to stay at the Democracy for a few days, to finish the job. Radscorpion poison glands were quite useful to wasteland doctors, so it would be a fairly profitable venture. The young man they had escorted with them, however, did not plan to wait around.

“Yeah, whatever,” Macready said. “And... uh, thanks for fixing up my gun, too.” He indicated the assault rifle he had slung behind him.

Daniel laughed. “Don’t worry about it, kid. After all the super mutants I killed, I had more ammo and spare parts for that model of rifle than I could get rid of.”

Macready stared out at the hilly countryside. “I guess this is it, huh?”

Daniel looked that way as well. “Yeah, I think this is as far as I go,” he said. He didn’t know why, but he knew beyond a doubt that this was where he stopped, and let the last Lamplighter press on alone.

“You ever think of going any further?” Macready queried. “Seeing what’s out there?”

“Sometimes,” Daniel admitted. “But really, I just think that this, the Capital Wasteland, well… it’s not perfect, but it's just where I belong. I’ve found my place in the world. I don’t need to go anywhere else.”

“I guess that’s why I need to go, then,” Macready admitted. “I’ve watched all the other kids find their places here. Princess up in Tenpenny Tower, Joseph and Penny in Rivet City, Billy at Fort What-the-f***-ever…”

“Independence.”

“Yeah, there. And even Zip, with you.”

Daniel opened his mouth to tell him that he fully intended to send Zip on to Rivet City, then closed it again. If he had really intended to do that, this trip would have been the perfect pretext. As it was, the boy was staying with Angela and Diego until his return. Whether he liked it or not, he had to admit that the little Nuka addict was now a permanant part of his life. And that his world was a better, brighter place for it.

Macready finished: “…and I realize there’s no place for me. Not here.” He still felt a chill as he remembered the day he had realized that, the cold and loneliness of that moment. For a moment, he didn’t look like the blustering, wise beyond his years mayor Daniel knew, just a frightened kid barely past his thirteenth birthday, wearing a military uniform three sizes too large.

“I never believed that, R. J.,” Daniel said sadly. He usually used the boy's last name, since truth be told they weren’t all that friendly, but that didn't seem to quite fit now. “Sometimes it just finds you, but other times you have to search for it.”

“That’s what I’m off to do,” the former mayor of Lamplight said. “And for what it’s worth, if there’s one stupid-a** mungo I’d travel with, it’d be you.”

“We’re really not that bad,” Daniel said earnestly. “Remember, we were all once kids. Just like yourself.”

Macready rolled his eyes. He tried not to think about that. It reminded him of what he was going to turn into in a few years.

“But I guess I’ve given up trying to convince you not to do this,” Daniel went on. “Just like I’ve given up trying to figure out why I actually like you, rude little potty-mouth that you are.” Macready laughed at this. “So I’ll just wish you luck.”

“Thanks,” Macready said. “See you ‘round, maybe.” They both knew how unlikely that was. Macready was headed into uncharted, treacherous wasteland. Even if he survived the long journey ahead of him, it was unlikely he would be able to find his way back.

"Bye, R. J.," Daniel said. "Take care of yourself."

"Right." Macready turned around, eyed the dusty waste ahead of him, and walked off into it. He didn't look back. Maybe he saw no point in it, or maybe he was worried his resolve would crumble. Daniel would never know.

He sighed as he stood there at the wasteland's edge. A part of him wanted to follow the boy wherever he was going, pursue a new adventure in a new land. A larger part of him wanted to go after the crazy kid, drag him back, take him to a place where he would be safe. But he did neither; he simply watched in pensive silence st the last mayor of the wasteland’s oldest settlement walked over hill and through valley and was finally lost from sight. Though not the most religious of men, he said a quick prayer that the boy would be safe, and that he would find whatever it was he hoped to find. And then, he turned and headed back. Toward Cross and Fawkes, and the job at hand. Toward Megaton and Zip, and the responsibilities he had embraced. Toward the Capital Wasteland, and the life there that lay ahead of him.

BRAVO!!! that story is wonderful, and the fact tht u thought of all of it yourself is marvelous!!!! i only wish that you would write more, if this is your last chapter. very good job!

I expect I will be writing more, I'll just be tackling a different setting, and probably mostly different characters. The Little Lamplighters, fond as I am of them, are ready to be retired. And Daniel had found a good life for himself, I have no interest in transferring him to the Mojave Wasteland.

Thank you all very much for your kind words, I hope you had as much fun reading this story as I had writing it.

EDIT:
QUOTE: And are you implying that Burke and the LW are Confirmed Bachelors? Not that there is anything wrong with that

You know, when I first read that post, I didn't get the reference. Of course, now I do, since my current NV character uses that perk. He also gave Fisto (the NV version) a dry run, but let's neither here nor there. :lmao:

No, I never really envisioned Daniel going that route. But he's not a Lady Killer either, he's just an ordinary straight dude who hasn't found Ms. Right yet. Moreover, while he can face down an Enclave camp or a super mutant overlord without blinking, I expect he gets a little shy about asking a lady out. But have no fear, I'm sure that when the right girl shows up, Paladin Cross will give him some much-needed pointers. As for Burke, he's the wealthiest dude in the wasteland, and one of the most powerful. Guys like that have little trouble attracting women.

This was awesome. In fact i'm gonna give you a thumps up :goodjob: there we go.