Jace withdrew his gaze and walked toward the row of fixed storefronts on his right.
Sturges followed behind him, while Codsworth floated along in silence.
Arturo’s weapon shop was tucked into the middle of the row.
Its display window had been polished exceptionally clean, and several well-maintained guns were laid out inside: a combat rifle in good condition, two laser rifles, and a minigun.
Their metal surfaces carried a cold, hard gleam that stood out sharply in the dim light.
The door was open.
Jace turned sideways and squeezed inside.
The T-45 Power Armor he wore was bulky to begin with, and the shop’s doorframe was narrow.
It took him a bit of effort before he finally managed to force his way through, the metal plates scraping against the frame with several dull knocks.
The shop itself was not large.
Both walls were covered with all kinds of guns and attachments, and the air was filled with the mixed smell of gun oil, metal, and dust.
Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with perfectly combed hair and a carefully trimmed mustache.
His shirt was cleaner and neater than what most people in the wasteland wore.
He had his head lowered, a gun cloth in hand, carefully polishing the barrel of a pistol.
At the noise, Arturo suddenly looked up.
His gaze first landed on Jace’s T-45 Power Armor.
He paused for a second, then looked past him at Sturges, and finally settled on Codsworth, who was hovering in midair.
“Rare customers.” Arturo set down the gun in his hand, his voice carrying just the right amount of merchant’s warmth.
“You don’t see power armor in the city every day.
One look and I can tell you’re here on serious business.
What do you need?
Just say the word.”
Jace walked up to the counter.
“I need hydraulic lines for a T-51, and a core mounting bracket for a T-60.”
Arturo raised an eyebrow.
“T-51 and T-60?
Both fine pieces of equipment.
Suits like those aren’t common in the Commonwealth.”
He spread his hands and spoke frankly.
“I don’t have the mounting bracket in stock.
That thing’s scarce to begin with, and T-60 parts are even harder to come by.”
Jace looked at him.
“Where can I get one?”
Arturo rubbed his chin and thought for a moment.
“The Atom Cats probably have one.
That crew specializes in power armor repair and modification, so their stock is a lot better than mine.
Problem is, they’re out in the eastern wastes.
You’d have to make the trip yourself.”
“Or you can wait three or four days.
I can have a caravan I know ask around for you, but there’ll be a ten percent handling fee.
Wasteland rules.
You know how it is.”
“Roughly how much?”
Arturo did not give a price right away.
He turned and went behind the counter, then pulled out an old portable radio.
He twisted the knob, and a harsh burst of static crackled through the shop.
After adjusting it several times, he leaned toward the microphone and lowered his voice.
“Atom Cats, this is Arturo in Diamond City.
I’ve got a customer looking for a T-60 core mounting bracket.
You have one in stock?”
The radio stayed silent for a few seconds.
Only messy static hissed through.
A moment later, a rough, hoarse voice came through in broken bursts, barely clear enough to make out.
“Got one.
Refurbished old-model part.
Works fine.
No warranty.”
Arturo looked up at Jace, asking with his eyes.
Jace gave a slight nod.
“Refurbished is fine.
How much to deliver it to Diamond City?”
The other side fell silent again for a moment, then replied.
“We’ll send someone over tomorrow.
Price gets settled face-to-face.”
Arturo put down the microphone and turned back to Jace.
“It’ll arrive tomorrow.
Refurbished part.”
He pushed the box of lines toward Jace.
“You want these?”
Jace lowered his eyes and looked.
They were wrapped in oiled paper, with little rust on them.
They were usable.
“How many caps?”
Arturo held up one hand.
“Five hundred.”
Sturges frowned beside him.
He looked like he wanted to bargain, but swallowed the words back.
That price really was not a rip-off.
“What about the core mounting bracket?” Jace asked.
“I’ll take a hit on it.
Five thousand.”
This time, Sturges could not hold back.
“Five thousand caps?
It’s a refurbished part.
That price is ridiculous.”
Arturo’s tone was firm.
“That’s the market for T-60 parts.
Even refurbished ones go for that much.
Ask anywhere else and you’ll only hear a higher price.”
Jace did not argue any further.
He took the cloth sack off his shoulder, reached inside, pulled out a fusion core, and gently set it on the counter.
The rounded metal shell carried a dull, dark sheen.
“You take these?”
Arturo’s eyes lit up.
He picked up the core, turned it over several times, then brought it closer and gave it a sniff.
“I’ll take it.
Five thousand.
How’s that?”
Sturges immediately stepped forward.
“Five thousand is too low.
This is brand-new, unused, factory-original.
At least six thousand.
You know better than I do what these go for in the wasteland.”
Arturo stared at him for two seconds, then smiled.
“All right, six thousand.
Call it making a friend.”
“We have one more.
We’ll sell that to you too.”
Sturges took another fusion core from the cloth sack and placed it beside the first one on the counter.
The two cores lay there quietly, their metallic sheen steady and solid.
Arturo checked them one by one, then nodded.
“No complaints about the condition.
Six thousand each, but if I take both together, I’m carrying some risk.
Eleven thousand.”
Sturges shook his head.
“Twelve thousand.
Both are brand-new, factory-original.
You’ll resell them for at least fourteen thousand.”
Arturo stared at him without speaking.
Sturges did not back down either.
A few seconds later, Arturo sighed and laughed.
“Fine.
Twelve thousand.
You people bargain harder than I do.”
He pulled a wooden box from under the counter and pushed over twelve neatly made cards instead of loose caps.
“Twelve thousand total for the two cores.
Come pick up the goods tomorrow.
Payment when the part arrives.
I won’t cheat you.”
Sturges took the cards and examined them carefully, turning them over in his hands.
Jace glanced at them, froze for a moment, and blurted out.
“Prepaid cards?
Aren’t those only usable in Far Harbor?”
Arturo paused too.
“Far Harbor?
You’ve been there?”
Jace realized what he had said and shut his mouth without answering.
Arturo looked at him for two seconds, then smiled.
“Parker got you, didn’t he?
Those prepaid cards from Far Harbor only work on their local terminals.
In Diamond City, they’re just worthless plastic.”
He pointed at the cards in Sturges’ hand.
“These aren’t prepaid cards.
They’re Diamond Cards, bulk transaction cards used exclusively inside Diamond City.”
“Diamond Cards?”
“Basically modified holotapes with 256KB of memory.
Most of the space is used for encryption, all to protect the string of numbers stored inside.
They’re made specifically for large transactions, so you don’t have to haul around a sack of caps and tempt every thief in sight.”
“Take one of these to the mayor’s office or a designated shop, and you can redeem the full value in caps.
Accepted all over the city.”
Jace stared at the cards.
“Are they safe?”
Arturo snorted.
“A hundred times safer than carrying ten thousand caps through the wasteland.
Every card has a unique serial number.
Lose one, and you can report it and have it frozen.
Even if someone else picks it up, they can’t use it.”
“As for counterfeiting?
This is pre-War bank-level encryption.
To crack it, you’d need a high-end terminal brute-forcing it.
Each card only holds up to a thousand caps.
If someone used a supercomputer to fake one, they wouldn’t even earn back the electricity cost.
Total loss.
No one’s stupid enough to do that.”
The three of them and the robot left the weapon shop and stood on Diamond City’s main road.
Night had fully fallen.
In the stacked homes above the stands, scattered lights came on one after another, their dim yellow glow barely illuminating the street.
Market vendors had begun closing up.
Some carried goods away, while others covered their stalls with cloth.
Most of the pedestrians were gone, leaving only a few drunks staggering around.
Diamond City Security patrols carried rifles as they strolled slowly down the street.
Jace stood by the roadside, silently running through Sanctuary Hills’ shortages in his head: farm tools, regular tools, cloth, medicine, workbench parts…
all kinds of things, and most of them heavy.
He looked down at the caps in the cloth sack and the Diamond Cards in his hand.
They had enough money, but too few people.
There was no way they could carry everything back.
“There’s a lot we need to buy.
Carrying it all by hand won’t work.”
Sturges nodded.
“Tools, farm tools, building materials, medicine, all kinds of spare parts.
There are only three of us, and Codsworth can’t haul heavy cargo.
We’d never get it all back.”
Codsworth floated gently beside them, his optical sensors blinking twice.
His mechanical voice carried a touch of grievance.
“Sir, I am a domestic service robot.
This sort of heavy manual labor is truly beyond my design specifications.”
Jace looked up at the sky.
The sun had long since sunk, leaving only a smear of dark red along the horizon.
In a little while, it would be completely black.
The Wasteland at night was full of danger.
Traveling after dark was no different from asking to die.
“We’ll have to rent a few Brahmin and haul the goods tomorrow morning.”
Sturges looked at the sky as well and nodded.
“Tomorrow it is, then.
Tonight, we find somewhere to make do.”
He swept his gaze around and pointed toward a few simple shelters at the base of the wall.
“There are public beds over there.
Free, just a little crowded.”
Jace followed his gesture.
The shelters were dark and cramped.
People lay on hay under filthy rags so worn their original colors were impossible to tell, and the air carried a mixed, unpleasant smell.
He looked away.
“What are we afraid of?
It’s not like we’re broke.
We’ll stay at an inn.”
Sturges froze.
“An inn…
that won’t be cheap, will it?”
Jace turned and headed toward the other end of the main road, tossing out a calm line as he walked.
“We can’t save money on everything.”
Sturges hurried after him, while Codsworth continued floating silently behind them.
They had not gone far when a basement entrance appeared beside the road.
A wooden sign hung by the door: Dugout Inn.
The door was half open.
Warm yellow light spilled out, and faint laughter and conversation drifted from inside.
Jace pushed the door open and walked in.
Warm yellow light washed over him, mixed with the faint smell of beer.
It was much warmer inside than it was outside.
Directly across from the door was a long counter, with a row of cleanly polished bottles arranged behind it.
Behind the counter stood two men who looked strikingly alike: the brothers Vadim and Yefim.
One was pouring drinks, while the other chatted and laughed with the customers.
Near the wall, a short-haired blonde woman was briskly sweeping the floor.
That was Scarlett.
Beside the counter were two old sofas.
Their leather had been worn shiny, but they still looked sturdy enough.
A few customers sat there with cups in hand, talking quietly.
Jace walked up to the counter.
Yefim looked up.
His gaze paused for a moment on Jace’s T-45, then swept over Sturges and Codsworth.
A smile of practiced ease appeared on his face.
Diamond City saw plenty of strange people come and go, and power armor was not exactly unheard of.
“I’ll take a room.”
Yefim set down the bottle in his hand, pulled a notebook from under the counter, and flipped through it.
“Twenty caps for the night.
Check out tomorrow morning.”
Jace took twenty caps from the cloth sack and set them on the counter.
Yefim collected them, took a key from the wall, and handed it over.
“Room Two.
Hot water’s at the end of the hall.
Breakfast in the morning, if you pay extra.”
Sturges came up behind him and lowered his voice.
“Twenty caps…” he muttered, but said nothing more.
Jace took the key but did not head upstairs right away.
“We’ve been on the road all day with nothing to eat or drink.
Get us something.”
Codsworth took the key from Jace’s hand on his own initiative, his optical sensors curving slightly.
“I’ll tidy the room, sir.
Please enjoy your meal at your leisure.”
With that, he floated away quietly, without making a sound.
Jace turned, walked over to the sofa, stepped out of his power armor, and sat down in an empty spot.
Sturges sat beside him at the edge.
Yefim leaned out from behind the counter.
“What’ll you have?
Grilled meat, bread, house-brewed beer.
We’ve got all that.”
“Got grilled meat?
Two plates.”
“Brahmin beef skewers.
Four skewers a plate, eight caps.”
“Two plates, and two beers.”
Yefim called toward the kitchen, then filled two mugs from a large wooden barrel and brought them over.
“Beer first.
Four caps.
Meat’ll be ready soon.”
Jace took out twelve caps and placed them on the table.
He picked up a mug and took a big swallow.
The beer was not cold, and the flavor was a little thin, but once it went down, most of the fatigue from the road seemed to loosen.
He leaned back into the sofa and let out a long breath.
Sturges took a sip too and said softly, “Been a long time since I had a drink.”
Before long, Scarlett came out with a tray.
Two plates of skewers were set on the table, the meat sizzling and dripping oil.
Coarse spices had been sprinkled over them, and the heat and aroma rose together, rich and tempting.
Jace picked up a skewer and took a large bite.
The meat was a little tough, but it had been grilled until fragrant and charred.
Smoke and grease spread through his mouth.
He chewed silently and said nothing.
Sturges took a bite, and his eyes brightened.
“This is miles better than the mush back at camp.”
Neither of them said much after that.
They ate slowly with their beer, enjoying the rare bit of peace inside Diamond City.
A short while later, Codsworth floated down from upstairs.
“Sir, the room has been tidied.”
Jace was just about to stand, but all the danger and exhaustion he had endured since arriving in the Wasteland suddenly surged up at once.
He sat back down and waved a hand.
“Forget it.
I’ll sit here a while longer and have a couple more drinks.
Take Sturges up to rest first.
We still have to get up early tomorrow to rent Brahmin and pick up the goods.”
Sturges was already a little dazed.
He pushed himself up from the sofa and followed Codsworth slowly upstairs.
Jace raised a hand toward the counter.
“Two more beers.”
Yefim answered with a smile and soon brought over two more mugs.
The customers in the inn gradually left, and the noise died down.
Jace held his mug and half reclined on the sofa, eyes half open as he watched people come and go.
Outside, the night grew deeper and deeper.
Diamond City fell completely quiet, with only the inn still lit.
Jace took another sip, leaned back against the sofa, and let out a long breath.
This body was finally getting drunk.
The alcohol slowly rose in him, and his legs no longer felt as sore.
His shoulders no longer felt as tight either.
Jace finished the last mug and set it on the table.
The drunkenness welled up, leaving his whole body so loose he did not want to move.
By the counter, Vadim and Yefim were talking in low voices.
Scarlett had already gone to the back room to rest.
Then, from the sofa beside him, a slurred voice thick with alcohol suddenly spoke.
“My ancestors…
they used to live in Nahant…”
Jace did not open his eyes, but his ears moved slightly.
“You know Nahant…?
Old seaside town…
Before the War, that was where rich people lived…”
Another voice, still relatively sober, answered, “Nahant?
Heard of it.
Nothing but mirelurks now.”
“Mirelurks are nothing!” The drunk’s voice rose, then dropped again.
“My grandpa…
my grandpa told me himself.
Under Nahant…
under the seabed, there’s a pipeline.”
“A pipeline?”
“Yeah.
A pre-War pipeline, leading out into the sea.
Go in through that pipeline…
and you can get into a Vault.”
Jace opened his eyes a crack.
“It’s true…
My grandpa said he saw it with his own eyes.
The Vault door…
right there under the sea.
The pipeline connects to it…
There’s all kinds of stuff inside…
Too bad…”
“Too bad what?”
“Too bad you can’t get in!” The drunk slapped his thigh.
“The pipeline’s been blocked for ages.
Full of silt, crabs…
who could get through that?”
The other man laughed.
“If nobody can get in, then talking about it won’t help.”
“You don’t understand…
It’s not the same…
That’s a Vault…”
The drunk’s voice grew lower and lower, finally fading into an indistinct mumble before going silent.
Jace leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed.
Those words kept circling in his mind.
Nahant.
Undersea pipeline.
Vault.
Through the haze of alcohol, he tried to remember.
Vault 81 was inland.
Vault 114 was underground in the city.
Vault 95 was in the wilderness.
Vault 118 was on Far Harbor.
None of them matched.
Probably just another drunk bragging.
Under the sea…
Under the sea…
“Vault 120!!!!”