Arlington Library
The last of the Talons dropped to the ground in a final spasm, his laser pistol tumbling from his hands. Ellen shivered a little; she was never going to get used to being hunted. After she found her father, she decided, she was going to get Annabelle and see if they couldn't track down this Mr. Tenpenny. It was probably the only way she'd ever get them off her back. In the meantime, she needed supplies and the Talon mercs hadn't used all their ammo, so she murmured a quiet prayer for the dead men's souls and settled to searching their corpses.
There was a cluster of buildings up ahead, most of which were three-quarters rubble. The most intact-looking one might have had a stately, dignified look to it once, with small pillars on either side of the front doors. Her Pip-Boy indicated the library was somewhere in the immediate area, so she padded over to the door and eased it open. The room beyond was dim; she blinked, eyes adjusting to the light-
"Hold it!" snapped a woman's voice. "This area is under the protection of the Brotherhood of Steel. Leave immediately."
Ellen yelped reflexively. She'd completely missed the speaker, a blonde woman in red robes suspiciously similar to those of Specialist Olin, of the Outcasts. Come to think of it, she'd missed the speaker's escorts- several people in gray and silver power armor of the same design that Paladin Hoss wore. She fought the urge to flick her stealth field back on as she stammered, "I- I was just exploring-"
As she pulled off her armor's headpiece, the other woman raised one eyebrow and observed, "You're awfully brave to be walking around down here by yourself. Are you scavenging the ruins?"
Ellen shook her head. "I'm searching for records from the library," she said. "It's for a book about the Wasteland."
"Really." The woman tapped a forefinger against her chin. "It seems that we have similar goals in mind. It's rare to meet someone with proper priorities. I'm Senior Scribe Yearling, Order of the Word. I have a proposal for you if you're interested."
Give my regards to Scribe Yearling when you see her, Hoss had said. He'd been a decent man in the end; if he liked this woman, she was probably all right. Ellen nodded. "I'm listening," she said. "What is it?"
Scribe Yearling turned and indicated the building behind her with a gesture. "My task here is to collect the written works of those who came before in order to supplement the Brotherhood Archives at the Citadel. Although most of the pre-war books've been destroyed, there are a few that've survived. But finding a readable book in these ruins is... difficult. I could have a million Initiates to comb the ruins, and I'd still never come close to recovering every book that remains undamaged."
"Ah," said Ellen. If Yearling's initiates were anything like Pek, she could see where there might be a problem. "And you want me to help you gather books, right?"
Yearling nodded. "Precisely. The collected knowledge of a lost age is worth far more than any weapon. So, return here with any books that you find in good condition. I will compensate you for every volume that you bring me."
"Actually," Ellen said, "I was hoping to access the library's archives, if they still existed-"
The corners of Yearling's mouth curved upward in a momentary, dry smile. "I couldn't tell you whether they do or not. The front desk computer can still access the old card catalog listings, but it's long since lost all connection to the main archives. Here's the password, for whatever that's worth. You might be able to find the central computer further into the library, but I'm afraid you'll have to do that without me. I'm a scholar, not a fighter."
Ellen had been halfway to the front desk computer; she paused. "What do you mean, fighter?"
There might have been a time when Ellen might have had some sympathy for the people living in the library. Maybe if she'd come here alone and found the first few of them simply holed up quietly on the first floor balcony, she might have tried to talk with them. After all, appearances could be deceiving. YT's lessons in looking tough and acting tougher to avoid trouble made that pretty clear. They might have been harmless and in need of a relatively safe place to stay.
The key words there, however, were 'might have been'. Harmless people, lost people, did not as a rule take delight in firing automatic weapons into any bit of shadow that moved in a suspicious manner.
They didn't call out "Time's up, princess!" and lunge for you with their revolvers already firing. And while lost, scared, desperate people might very well set up tripwires and rig floor plates to set off explosives and keep invaders at bay, when they got to the point of appropriating whole library reading rooms to pin dismembered corpses to the wall and hang limbs from the ceiling... well, that was the point at which Ellen pretty much lost all sympathy she might have had.
There was a line. There had to be. Extremity only allowed for so much. After that you were nothing but a savage.
You're fast when you're on Jet. The world is slow. You're fucking invincible as long as it's in your system. There's nothing in the world like it. Take enough Jet, and you'll be willing to believe you're seeing just about anything. Even see-through people dipping in and out of shadows, like smoke-
"Excuse me."
There's something sharp pressing into your neck, but you can't look down and see it, and there's something pressing against your torso, but you can't see that either. And the rocket launcher that you've always loved to turn loose on anyone stupid enough to cross you is suddenly digging into your back and head in about seven different places. And the smoky shape in front of you's just gone from smoke to real, a human shape of black and featureless gold that reflects your own terrified face back at you as it says:
"I'm really sorry about this, but I have a job to do here, and you look like you might try something stupid. Please don't. I'm very, very good at killing things. I've got a two-hundred-year-old Chinese sword at your throat. Please don't make me prove it."
... yeah, Jet doesn't do that, not that you remember.
Ellen stalked back into the lobby where Yearling and her armored escort were busy going over a small pile of books. The whole thing had been so stupid. All of those raiders, all of the destruction, all the wanton defacement of what could've been something worthwhile- she just wanted to scream. The opportunity, however, did not arise. Yearling glanced up at her arrival and said, "Welcome back. Have you been successful in your search for books?"
"Here." Ellen held up a holotape- Moira had given her two, just in case- and tossed it in the other woman's direction.
Yearling's eyes were wide as she snatched the tape out of midair. "Excuse me," she said, "but just what is this supposed to be?"
"There was one terminal left upstairs that could still reach the mainframe," Ellen said shortly. "That's the archives."
Yearling stared at the tape. "All of them?" she said.
"As nearly as I can tell," Ellen said. "It took forever to download both copies, and usually my Pip-Boy is pretty quick, so I'm guessing that's all they had."
"If what you say is true," Yearling said, "then this is... this is of considerable use to us. We'll have to verify it, of course."
"Fine," said Ellen. "You're welcome to it, but I need to go and wash off now. I'm feeling very unclean."
"As you wish," said Yearling. "Although I don't know where you plan to find the water."
"Megaton, probably," said Ellen, "since I live there. You can come and find me if I'm wrong about the archives- oh, one more thing."
Yearling raised an eyebrow curiously, but said nothing.
"Paladin Hoss sends his regards."
"Is it there?" said Moira excitedly as Ellen trudged through the door of Craterside Supply. "Are there books? Can I borrow some?"
The sooner they finished here, the sooner Ellen could strip out of the armor and scrub off, or at least approximate it; she took a deep breath and nodded. "The library's still standing, and I've got the archives right here."
Moira clapped her hands together in what looked very much like pure glee. "Really? A whole library's worth of data, right there? That's great news! ... so what did you find? Tell me about it!"
"Most of the books in the building were ruined." Ellen grimaced at the memory. That had been almost as bad as finding the corpse parts. "There were people trying to recover the rest... you know how valuable this archive is, right?"
"I suspect you and I may be the only people for miles who really appreciate that," said Moira soberly. "Good work retrieving it, too! I'll see how much I can work into the guide itself. Oh, and here's a book of mine and some caps for your research. Think of it as pay for a civilization's worth of overdue books."
Ellen accepted the volume, an old engineering text she'd never seen before, and nodded. "That's it, then?"
"It certainly is! With this last chunk of info, I'm all done!" Moira beamed and reached under the counter, retrieving an olive-gray object about half the size of Ellen's head. "For all your hard work, I want you to have this mini-nuke. I kept meaning to use it to dig a well, but honestly, it just makes me nervous. Come back in a week or two and I should have the whole thing done and ready for distribution!"
"... thanks," Ellen said weakly, staring at the thing.
There was a cluster of buildings up ahead, most of which were three-quarters rubble. The most intact-looking one might have had a stately, dignified look to it once, with small pillars on either side of the front doors. Her Pip-Boy indicated the library was somewhere in the immediate area, so she padded over to the door and eased it open. The room beyond was dim; she blinked, eyes adjusting to the light-
"Hold it!" snapped a woman's voice. "This area is under the protection of the Brotherhood of Steel. Leave immediately."
Ellen yelped reflexively. She'd completely missed the speaker, a blonde woman in red robes suspiciously similar to those of Specialist Olin, of the Outcasts. Come to think of it, she'd missed the speaker's escorts- several people in gray and silver power armor of the same design that Paladin Hoss wore. She fought the urge to flick her stealth field back on as she stammered, "I- I was just exploring-"
As she pulled off her armor's headpiece, the other woman raised one eyebrow and observed, "You're awfully brave to be walking around down here by yourself. Are you scavenging the ruins?"
Ellen shook her head. "I'm searching for records from the library," she said. "It's for a book about the Wasteland."
"Really." The woman tapped a forefinger against her chin. "It seems that we have similar goals in mind. It's rare to meet someone with proper priorities. I'm Senior Scribe Yearling, Order of the Word. I have a proposal for you if you're interested."
Give my regards to Scribe Yearling when you see her, Hoss had said. He'd been a decent man in the end; if he liked this woman, she was probably all right. Ellen nodded. "I'm listening," she said. "What is it?"
Scribe Yearling turned and indicated the building behind her with a gesture. "My task here is to collect the written works of those who came before in order to supplement the Brotherhood Archives at the Citadel. Although most of the pre-war books've been destroyed, there are a few that've survived. But finding a readable book in these ruins is... difficult. I could have a million Initiates to comb the ruins, and I'd still never come close to recovering every book that remains undamaged."
"Ah," said Ellen. If Yearling's initiates were anything like Pek, she could see where there might be a problem. "And you want me to help you gather books, right?"
Yearling nodded. "Precisely. The collected knowledge of a lost age is worth far more than any weapon. So, return here with any books that you find in good condition. I will compensate you for every volume that you bring me."
"Actually," Ellen said, "I was hoping to access the library's archives, if they still existed-"
The corners of Yearling's mouth curved upward in a momentary, dry smile. "I couldn't tell you whether they do or not. The front desk computer can still access the old card catalog listings, but it's long since lost all connection to the main archives. Here's the password, for whatever that's worth. You might be able to find the central computer further into the library, but I'm afraid you'll have to do that without me. I'm a scholar, not a fighter."
Ellen had been halfway to the front desk computer; she paused. "What do you mean, fighter?"
There might have been a time when Ellen might have had some sympathy for the people living in the library. Maybe if she'd come here alone and found the first few of them simply holed up quietly on the first floor balcony, she might have tried to talk with them. After all, appearances could be deceiving. YT's lessons in looking tough and acting tougher to avoid trouble made that pretty clear. They might have been harmless and in need of a relatively safe place to stay.
The key words there, however, were 'might have been'. Harmless people, lost people, did not as a rule take delight in firing automatic weapons into any bit of shadow that moved in a suspicious manner.
They didn't call out "Time's up, princess!" and lunge for you with their revolvers already firing. And while lost, scared, desperate people might very well set up tripwires and rig floor plates to set off explosives and keep invaders at bay, when they got to the point of appropriating whole library reading rooms to pin dismembered corpses to the wall and hang limbs from the ceiling... well, that was the point at which Ellen pretty much lost all sympathy she might have had.
There was a line. There had to be. Extremity only allowed for so much. After that you were nothing but a savage.
You're fast when you're on Jet. The world is slow. You're fucking invincible as long as it's in your system. There's nothing in the world like it. Take enough Jet, and you'll be willing to believe you're seeing just about anything. Even see-through people dipping in and out of shadows, like smoke-
"Excuse me."
There's something sharp pressing into your neck, but you can't look down and see it, and there's something pressing against your torso, but you can't see that either. And the rocket launcher that you've always loved to turn loose on anyone stupid enough to cross you is suddenly digging into your back and head in about seven different places. And the smoky shape in front of you's just gone from smoke to real, a human shape of black and featureless gold that reflects your own terrified face back at you as it says:
"I'm really sorry about this, but I have a job to do here, and you look like you might try something stupid. Please don't. I'm very, very good at killing things. I've got a two-hundred-year-old Chinese sword at your throat. Please don't make me prove it."
... yeah, Jet doesn't do that, not that you remember.
Ellen stalked back into the lobby where Yearling and her armored escort were busy going over a small pile of books. The whole thing had been so stupid. All of those raiders, all of the destruction, all the wanton defacement of what could've been something worthwhile- she just wanted to scream. The opportunity, however, did not arise. Yearling glanced up at her arrival and said, "Welcome back. Have you been successful in your search for books?"
"Here." Ellen held up a holotape- Moira had given her two, just in case- and tossed it in the other woman's direction.
Yearling's eyes were wide as she snatched the tape out of midair. "Excuse me," she said, "but just what is this supposed to be?"
"There was one terminal left upstairs that could still reach the mainframe," Ellen said shortly. "That's the archives."
Yearling stared at the tape. "All of them?" she said.
"As nearly as I can tell," Ellen said. "It took forever to download both copies, and usually my Pip-Boy is pretty quick, so I'm guessing that's all they had."
"If what you say is true," Yearling said, "then this is... this is of considerable use to us. We'll have to verify it, of course."
"Fine," said Ellen. "You're welcome to it, but I need to go and wash off now. I'm feeling very unclean."
"As you wish," said Yearling. "Although I don't know where you plan to find the water."
"Megaton, probably," said Ellen, "since I live there. You can come and find me if I'm wrong about the archives- oh, one more thing."
Yearling raised an eyebrow curiously, but said nothing.
"Paladin Hoss sends his regards."
"Is it there?" said Moira excitedly as Ellen trudged through the door of Craterside Supply. "Are there books? Can I borrow some?"
The sooner they finished here, the sooner Ellen could strip out of the armor and scrub off, or at least approximate it; she took a deep breath and nodded. "The library's still standing, and I've got the archives right here."
Moira clapped her hands together in what looked very much like pure glee. "Really? A whole library's worth of data, right there? That's great news! ... so what did you find? Tell me about it!"
"Most of the books in the building were ruined." Ellen grimaced at the memory. That had been almost as bad as finding the corpse parts. "There were people trying to recover the rest... you know how valuable this archive is, right?"
"I suspect you and I may be the only people for miles who really appreciate that," said Moira soberly. "Good work retrieving it, too! I'll see how much I can work into the guide itself. Oh, and here's a book of mine and some caps for your research. Think of it as pay for a civilization's worth of overdue books."
Ellen accepted the volume, an old engineering text she'd never seen before, and nodded. "That's it, then?"
"It certainly is! With this last chunk of info, I'm all done!" Moira beamed and reached under the counter, retrieving an olive-gray object about half the size of Ellen's head. "For all your hard work, I want you to have this mini-nuke. I kept meaning to use it to dig a well, but honestly, it just makes me nervous. Come back in a week or two and I should have the whole thing done and ready for distribution!"
"... thanks," Ellen said weakly, staring at the thing.