Jace and Preston stood outside the house and exchanged a look.
“Call everyone.
We’re leaving now,” Jace said.
Preston nodded and turned toward the houses.
“Anthony!
Josh!
Emma!” he called.
“Over here!”
Emma turned back from the bridgehead and ran over with her gun in hand.
Josh came out of the house they were using as living quarters.
Another man, Anthony, came around from behind the most damaged house, still holding a hammer.
“Sturges!” Preston called again.
Sturges poked his head out of the largest house, his hands still stained with blood.
“What’s going on?”
“Come here.”
Sturges wiped his hands and hurried over.
Preston glanced over the houses again and shouted inside, “You two as well.
Come here!”
Two people in tattered militia uniforms ran out from different houses.
Jace did not know their names, but he remembered they had escaped Lexington with them that day.
Seven people stood in front of Jace and Preston.
Anthony, Josh, Emma, Sturges, and the two Minutemen.
Jace glanced toward the river.
“Codsworth!”
The silver figure drifted over from the middle of Sanctuary Hills, silent as ever, and settled beside him.
Preston looked over the eight people in front of him.
“We have an urgent mission,” he said after a pause.
“Jace, Sturges, and I are going out to retrieve some gear.
We should be back in about half a day.”
Anthony looked at him.
“Where are you going?”
“Tenpines Bluff first.”
Off to the side, Jace was giving Codsworth instructions.
“Codsworth.”
Codsworth floated a little closer.
“Sir?”
“Just in case.
I mean, if anyone attacks while we’re gone, take everyone into Vault 111 immediately.”
Codsworth’s “eyes” shifted.
“Vault 111?”
“I didn’t close the main door.
Take the elevator down and you can go straight in.”
Codsworth nodded.
“Understood, sir.”
Jace turned to the others.
Anthony, Josh, Emma, and the two Minutemen whose names he did not know.
He took the minigun off his back and set it on the ground.
“I’m leaving this with you.”
Anthony froze.
Then Jace pulled a mini nuke from his backpack.
It was round, with a yellow-and-black casing and a radiation symbol printed on it.
He handed it over.
“And this.”
Anthony reached out and took it, lowered his head to look, and swallowed.
“…A mini nuke?”
Jace nodded.
“Do you know how to use it?”
Anthony shook his head.
“Never used one.”
“Then leave it alone.
If it really comes down to a last stand, tie a rock to it and throw it.
Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.”
He pointed toward the bridgehead and the surrounding houses.
“Hold this place.
If anything happens, hide.
Don’t fight head-on.
Until we get back, staying alive is all that matters.”
Anthony stood there holding the mini nuke and did not speak for a long time.
Josh and Emma held their guns in silence as well.
The three of them set out from the entrance of the Red Rocket truck stop and headed east.
Jace walked in front, Preston kept pace beside him, and Sturges followed half a step behind.
The sun had risen a little higher, casting gray light over the dead trees along the road.
Fallen leaves lay thick across the ground, soft underfoot and almost soundless.
Jace explained as they walked.
“There’s a derailed train on the tracks near Tenpines Bluff, and there’s a T-51 Power Armor set on it.
There’s also a big ammo cache hidden at the landfill to the northeast, and there’s a lake beside it with another set of power armor.”
Preston added, “We’re moving this fast because we don’t know when the Gunners or Raiders might track us here.
We don’t have the luxury of taking it slow.”
After a few minutes, Jace stopped and glanced back.
Preston and Sturges were not moving quickly.
After all, neither of them was wearing power armor.
He looked down at the armor around him.
“Too slow.
Get on.”
Preston froze.
“What?”
Jace did not explain.
He bent down, grabbed one man in each arm, and hoisted them onto his shoulders.
“Walking would take more than two hours.
If I run, it’ll take forty minutes.”
Preston let out a muffled grunt, but before he could say anything, Jace had already straightened and driven his legs forward.
The power armor’s hydraulic system screamed as it surged to full force.
His whole body shot forward like a cannonball, and the wild mongrel dogs and other beasts along the road scattered in panic at the noise of power armor charging at full speed.
Wind roared past his ears.
Dead trees on both sides of the road whipped backward.
Sturges lay across his shoulder, gripping a seam in the armor for dear life, his face warped by the wind.
“Jace!” he shouted, his voice torn apart by the rushing air.
Jace ignored him and kept running.
After a few minutes, he slowed down and set the two of them on the ground.
Preston staggered, caught himself, and bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
Sturges squatted straight down and could not speak for a long while.
Jace stood there and waited for them to recover.
“The railway near Tenpines Bluff is up ahead.
We need to take that T-51 back.”
Sturges looked up.
“Why’d you have to bring me?”
What Jace thought was: Because I don’t want to invest in advanced hacking.
In the game, I always brought Nick for this.
What he said was, “Because that power armor is locked behind a terminal.
Right now, you’re the only person we have who can open it, so I had to bring you.”
“Let’s keep moving.”
Seeing that they had mostly caught their breath, he picked them up again and continued running along the tracks.
The power armor’s feet pounded against rails and stones, each step landing with a heavy thud.
Preston and Sturges were slung over his shoulders, jostled so hard they could not get a word out.
After another ten minutes or so, the woods on both sides gradually thinned.
Dead trunks stood along the tracks, their branches reaching crookedly into the sky.
A canyon appeared ahead.
Steep rock walls rose on both sides, with a single railway running between them.
A suspension bridge crossed the canyon overhead.
Jace turned into the canyon and ran along it.
Not far in, the suspension bridge stretched above them, anchored into the cliffs on either side, at least dozens of meters off the ground.
Many of its planks were missing, and the iron cables were rust-red with age.
Wind poured in from the mouth of the canyon, making the bridge creak.
Preston, slung over his shoulder, glanced up.
The bridge hung high above them, cables swaying in the wind.
He said nothing and looked away.
After a few more minutes, the canyon began to open up.
A stretch of rocky ground appeared ahead, and beyond it, the railway emerged from behind the cliff face, twisted and crooked against the ground.
A derailed train blocked the path.
The cars lay toppled on both sides of the tracks.
Some had rolled over, others were stacked against each other, all of them rusted beyond recognition.
Every window was shattered, leaving dark holes like rows of eyes.
Jace slowed and finally stopped.
He set the two men down.
Preston staggered a step and bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
Sturges crouched on the ground and did not move for a while.
Jace pointed at the train ahead.
“We’re here.
The T-51 is over there.”
He walked forward, his gaze stopping on a blue train car.
Unlike the others, the blue paint on this car had not fully peeled away, so its original color was still visible.
The door was open, and the inside was pitch-black.
Jace walked over and peered inside.
A terminal stood against the wall, its screen dark.
He glanced back at Preston and Sturges.
The two of them were still standing there catching their breath and had not followed.
Jace did not wait for them.
He squeezed through the half-open door.
Inside the car, the air smelled of mold and rust.
A thick layer of dust covered the terminal.
He reached out and pressed the power button.
The screen flickered a few times, then lit up.
He did not look at the screen right away.
Instead, he turned and walked toward the rear.
At the end of the car was an iron-barred door.
Behind it was a metal cage.
Not a cage meant for people, but more like a reinforced cargo compartment.
Several wires were wrapped around the bars, and when he followed them forward with his eyes, they led back to the terminal at the front.
A somewhat rusty T-51 Power Armor set stood upright, locked in place at the center of the cage.
The power armor was definitely inside.
Jace returned to the terminal, stared at the screen, and tapped a few keys.
Password incorrect.
A line of red text appeared.
Attempts remaining: 2
He stared at the line for two seconds and did not try again.
Military encryption.
Not as simple as an ordinary civilian terminal.
Preston and Sturges had just caught their breath and walked over.
They stood outside the train car, looking in.
“How is it?” Sturges asked.
“I’m only half-decent at lockpicking and hacking.
I can’t crack a military lock like this.
You’re the only one who can open it.”
Sturges nodded and climbed into the train car.
Jace turned to Preston.
“I’m going to the plane.
The fusion cores and fusion cells are inside.”
Preston looked at him.
“Alone?”
Jace nodded.
“Sturges is the technician.
Let him focus on cracking it.
The plane isn’t far.
Stay here and keep watch.
If anything happens, fire your gun.
I can rush back right away.”
Preston did not ask anything else.
He raised his rifle and stood guard at the train car door.
Jace turned and ran along the tracks.
Behind him, the sound of Sturges typing came from the train car in short bursts.
He ran out of the canyon and kept going south without stopping.
After seven or eight minutes, an overpass appeared ahead.
The bridge had broken, with a large section collapsed in the middle.
Chunks of concrete and twisted rebar lay piled on the ground.
Jace went around the bridge supports and looked behind them.
The plane was there.
It had broken into five pieces, scattered across the rocky ground.
The nose lay crooked at the front, the fuselage had snapped into three sections, and the tail had been thrown all the way to the back, jutting high into the air.
The outer skin had rusted away, exposing the dark frame beneath.
The windows were completely shattered, leaving dark, empty holes.
Jace slowed and walked over.
Just then, several figures appeared from the other side of the plane.
They were crouched on the ground with crowbars and wrenches in their hands, prying off the parts of the fuselage skin that had not rusted through.
When they saw the gray-white power armor standing three meters away, they froze for one second.
Then the crowbars dropped.
So did the wrenches.
They turned and ran, stumbling and scrambling, without even looking back.
In a few moments, they vanished behind the rocks.
Jace stood there, stunned for a moment.
It’s not like I’m wearing cobbled-together Raider power armor.
Why are they running?
He blinked and looked in the direction they had fled.
Behind the rocks, it was completely quiet.
He could not even hear footsteps anymore.
“…That speed.” He could not help glancing again.
“Faster than a Mole Rat burrowing.”
According to his memory, the real hiding place for the contraband should be in the nose of the plane.
He went around to the nose and looked inside.
It was packed with cargo crates and suitcases.
Jace dug his way through.
Iron hands tore aside rotten wood, lifted suitcases and tossed them behind him, and overturned cargo crates that got in his way.
When he reached the area beneath the cockpit, the cabin suddenly opened up a little.
A huge metal crate was wedged tightly into the corner, so firmly that the smaller boxes around it looked as if they had been pushed outward by it.
Jace stopped and looked at it.
The crate was absurdly large.
Six people could crouch inside it, or three could stand upright.
The metal was thick, barely rusted, and the corners were welded cleanly.
He moved halfway around the crate and found the door.
It was about the size of a handbag, set high on the side of the crate, and the iron door was shut.
A thought popped into his mind.
Was a crate this big really for smuggling?
He shook his head and pushed the thought aside.
Jace looked at the small door.
In the game, this was a master-level lock.
With his current lockpicking perk, there was no way he could open it.
But he had no intention of picking it.
He reached out, grabbed one corner of the crate, and shook it hard.
A dull thud came from inside.
Something was packed beneath it.
It was not empty.
Jace let go, clenched his fist, aimed at the top of the crate, and gave it a light punch.
Thunk.
The sound was muffled.
The sheet metal dented inward slightly but did not break.
Ordinary steel, not any special alloy.
He punched again.
This time he used more force, and a tear opened in the sheet metal.
He reached into the tear, grabbed the edge, and pulled it apart.
Rrrip.
The sheet metal tore open into a large hole, the jagged edges curling back unevenly.
He turned on the headlamp on his helmet.
A beam of white light cut through the darkness and shone into the crate.
As the light swept across the interior, it revealed rows of metal cases stacked at the bottom.
Military-issue, tightly packed.
There was a sheet of paper beside them.
Title: #k53-0901
10/23/77
Sender: Chicago
Recipient: Boston
Contents:
Chems: omitted
Laser weapons: 5
Fusion cells: 440
.38 rounds: 400
Fusion cores: 5
US dollars: 25,000
He picked it up and looked it over.
Shipping manifest.
Receipt.
Batch number.
Quantity.
Date.
Signature.
Even smugglers kept records.
“…Leaving a paper trail.
A fine Fallout tradition.”
He took the paper and climbed out of the cabin.
Jace stood and looked around.
A few rotten blankets were piled in one corner, with the remains of a campfire beside them.
The scavengers had stayed here before.
He walked over, picked up a charred piece of wood, and returned to the crate.
He crouched down and wrote two words on a blank part of the shipping papers.
Received.
After writing it, he tossed the charred wood back into the fire pit, then turned and packed the metal cases into suitcases one by one.
He emptied a few, stuffed them full, and zipped them shut.
Four suitcases, bulging at the seams.
He picked up two in each hand, turned, and walked out.
He left the nose of the plane, crossed through the cabin, and climbed out through the hole.
Outside was still the same rocky ground.
The scavengers were long gone.
Jace ran back along the way he had come.
The power armor’s footsteps pounded against the gravel, each step landing with a dull thud.
The four suitcases in his hands swung back and forth, clanging against one another.
After running for about ten minutes, the mouth of the canyon appeared ahead.
He turned in and ran along the canyon floor.
The suspension bridge still hung overhead, its iron cables creaking in the wind.
A little farther on, the derailed train lay across the path again.
The door of the blue train car stood open.
Preston was guarding the entrance with his rifle raised.
When he saw Jace returning at a quick stride with four suitcases, he nodded slightly, visibly relieved.
Inside the train car, Sturges crouched beside the T-51 Power Armor, tool in hand, carefully checking the joints and wiring.
When he heard the heavy footsteps of the power armor, he did not even look up.
“The terminal’s open.
The armor doesn’t have any major problems.
It’s better preserved than I expected.”
Jace set the four suitcases on the ground and caught his breath.
“But it’s best not to start it up here.”
Jace froze.
“If we don’t start it, how are we supposed to bring it back?”
Only then did Sturges raise his head and look at him.
“Same way we came.”
“Huh?
But there’s another set of power armor and a huge box of ammo at the nearby junkyard.”
Sturges and Preston looked at Jace, faint smiles on their faces.