Ten
"Surprise!!"
The sound of clapping and squeaky trumpet toys blared as the lights in the Vault 101 main mess hall came on without warning. Ellen blinked, rubbing at her face with both hands. When she looked up, Dad was there- and so was her friend Amata, and Paul Hannon, and at least half a dozen other people as well. "You turned up the lights too fast, Andy, you blinded the poor kid!" came a mutter from somewhere nearby, but it didn't matter. Everyone else was calling out "Happy birthday!"
A little dazed, Ellen did her best to smile at everyone looking her way. There was Old Lady Palmer, Officer Gomez, Stanley, Andy the maintenance robot, Butch DeLoria and his pals- even Overseer Almodovar himself. Ellen was always a little bit afraid of him, but he only nodded in her direction, so she turned to face her father instead.
James was smiling. "Happy birthday, sweetie," he said. "I can't believe you're already ten. I’m so proud of you- if only your mother-"
"Congratulations, young lady," interrupted the Overseer. James fell silent at once. "I don't have to tell you how special this day is, do I? Down here in Vault 101, well- when you turn ten, you're ready to take on your first official Vault responsibilities. So here you are-"
The white-haired man (grey, more like, but several shades lighter than the grey that ran in Ellen's own family) reached over to a nearby table and retrieved a metal-and-glass wristlet almost exactly like the one he himself wore. "As Overseer, I hereby present to you your very own Pip-Boy 3000. Get used to it. You'll be getting your first work assignment tomorrow."
The Overseer chuckled at some unknown joke and turned away; James lifted his eyes ceilingwards for a bare instant. "Enjoy your party," he said. "You're only ten once, so have fun."
Ellen snapped the Pip-Boy open and clamped it into place over her left forearm. "Thanks, Dad."
"Happy birthday!" Amata called out, pushing past Ellen's father with a grin. As the older man walked away she said, "Your dad was afraid you were on to us. But I told him not to worry. You're so easy to fool!"
"Hey!" Ellen protested, but it didn't last long. Amata was right, after all. This was a total surprise. "Did you set this whole thing up? Thank you!"
"Oh, you're welcome! But really, your dad did most of it. I just helped with the decorations and stuff." She nodded towards the balloons stuck to the wall, and to the colorful HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner strung from one of the overhead fluorescent lights. "Hey! I bet you can't guess what I got you for your birthday. Go on, guess!"
Ellen hadn't been expecting a present from anybody, to be honest. The Pip-Boy, yes, but that wasn't a present. Everybody over the age of ten had one of those. At Amata's question she blurted out, "A date with Freddie Gomez?"
"What? Eww! I didn't know you even liked boys yet!" Amata wrinkled her nose. "No, no. Who's your favorite barbarian?"
She produced a worn, well-loved, but miraculously intact issue of-
"Grognak?" breathed Ellen. "A whole issue?"
"That's right, Grognak the Barbarian! Issue #14, and with no missing pages!" Amata beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I found this in a box of my father's old things, believe it or not. Imagine him reading comic books."
Ellen couldn't. She didn't even try.
"I guess everybody was young once," Amata continued. "Anyway. I'd better let you get back to all your other guests. I'll see you later, okay? Happy birthday!"
Amata trotted off towards where Stanley and Dad were trying to get something up onto the counter. Ellen ran her fingertips over the faded lettering of the comic's title, a little awestruck.
"I hope you appreciate the effort Amata put into this party," came the Overseer's voice from behind her. Ellen whirled almost guiltily to face him, shoving the comic hastily behind her back. "She really seems to like you, for some reason."
There are things one says, and things one does not say. Ellen nodded and said, "She did a great job," and did not say, "But couldn't you have helped her out?"
Not that it mattered. The Overseer must have heard her thoughts. He lifted an eyebrow and noted, "I do not allow the fact that Amata is my daughter to compromise my position as Overseer. I gave her all the appropriate paternal encouragement, of course, but I could not contribute extra Vault resources. That is simply what my position requires. No more, no less. I know Amata understands that perfectly well."
Ellen didn't dare imitate her father's look ceilingwards while facing the man in charge of absolutely everything in Vault 101. She only nodded and turned away, finding herself face to face with the considerably more cheerful Old Lady Palmer. "Enjoying yourself, dear?" Mrs. Palmer said. "I do hope you're having a nice party. Ten years old, my my my. Seems like only yesterday that your daddy came… Oh, goodness, listen to me ramble! You're waiting for your present, aren't you?"
Old Lady Palmer did tend to talk about things almost at random whether anyone was listening or not, but you didn't grow up as James Park's daughter without thoroughly learning manners. "Oh, you didn't have to bring me a present, Mrs. Palmer."
"Fiddlesticks! What ten year old doesn't like presents?" She shook her head. "I was ten once, believe it or not. My goodness, the Vault was practically crowded back then. Not like today. So few young people now… But here I am rambling on again, and you listening so politely. Here you go-" She produced a small package wrapped in sturdy brown paper. "A nice sweetroll that I baked for you just this morning. And it's all for you- no sharing required today!"
Obtaining the ingredients to do any personal baking or cooking in the Vault required a sizable share of a week's ration coupons, Ellen knew. "Thank you!" she answered. "Thank you very much."
"You're welcome, dear. Go enjoy it."
"Andy! Wait!" cried Amata's voice. Ellen spun around just in time to see the Mr. Handy unit's saw arm tear into the birthday cake on the counter. Gobbets of icing and cake went flying everywhere. "Oh, no…"
"Aw, nuts." Stanley, the chief maintenance engineer for both the robot and Vault 101 in general, shook his head. "Sorry about that… Hey, Ellen. You okay there, birthday girl?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she said. "It's okay, Mr. Armstrong. I know he meant well." Besides, she had Mrs. Palmer's sweetroll.
"Oh good." His face brightened considerably. "How d'you like that Pip-boy, anyway? Fit all right and everything?"
"Yes, Mr. Armstrong," Ellen answered- and then, because she'd seen the Overseer's wristlet, added, "It looks a little. . ."
"Older? Yeah, I know. Some folks think the A series is a bit basic, but I've always preferred 'em for their reliability. That Pip-Boy of yours'll probably outlast all of us." He dug in his pocket. "Oh, and here. Wear it in good health, kiddo."
The cap was the same design Ellen had seen in Mr. Brotch's history classes, in pictures of games played before the Great War. It was a little big for her, but that was all right. She'd just have to wear her hair differently to hold it in place. "Thank you!"
"Hey!" called out a voice; Ellen waved to Stanley and went to see who it was. Unfortunately, it was Butch DeLoria. The boy was a few months older than Ellen, and had never liked her or Amata. He and his friends were seated at a table away from the adults. "I'm hungry," he snapped, "and that stupid robot destroyed the cake. Gimme that sweetroll you got from Old Lady Palmer."
Ellen spared a glance towards the cake. There was still some of it left- not much, but enough for a slice or two. "Mrs. Palmer said I didn't have to share. It's my birthday," she answered.
"'Mrs. Palmer said I didn’t have to share'," Butch retorted in a nasal sing-song. "Who's talking about sharing, moron? I want the whole thing. Now are you going to give me that sweetroll, or am I going to give you a knuckle sandwich?"
Manners are all right as far as they go, but they just don't work on some people. "Go soak your head, Butch. I’m not giving you my sweetroll."
"Fine! Then I'm just gonna have to take it!" Butch lunged from his seat. Ellen jumped back out of the way, her cap falling off. She put up her arm, blocking the swing of Butch's fist, and wondered for an instant if he'd even feel it if she hit him back.
She never found out. "Butch, what do you think you're doing?" Officer Gomez called out, darting forward to grab Butch by the shoulder. "Leave her alone!"
The boy collapsed into his seat immediately, hunching his shoulders up around his ears rather than answer. Ellen mouthed a 'thank you' in the security officer's direction and found herself an empty table spot. This seemed like a golden opportunity to avoid further questions of what to do with that sweetroll. Her father, however, had seen what happened. "Are you all right, Ellen?" he asked. "Is Butch giving you a hard time again?"
"It's okay, Dad," Ellen said, a little more bravely than she really felt. "I can take care of myself."
"I'm glad to hear it. Once you start letting bullies push you around, you'll never see the end of it." He gestured towards the door. "Come on, now. I bet there's someone else out there with a present for you."
Oh, well, she hadn't unwrapped the sweetroll anyway…
"Thanks," Dad was saying into the intercom. "I'll send her right down." He turned towards Ellen again. "That was Jonas on the intercom. He and I have been cooking up a little surprise present. He's waiting for you on the reactor level. Go on ahead- I don't think anyone will mind if you skip out for a few minutes."
Ellen glanced at the party. People did seem to be having a good time, except for Butch and his table. And the further she got away from Butch, the better. "Okay, dad," she said. "Thank you."
She slipped out of the mess hall as soon as the steel door slid open, only to be met in the corridor by yet another adult. It was Beatrice- Stanley's daughter, one of Dad's more frequent patients. As much as Ellen liked Mr. Armstrong, Beatrice tended to give her the willies. "Happy birthday, dearie!" Beatrice trilled. "My goodness, I hope I didn't miss the party! Ten years old already? Why, I can remember helping your dad change your diapers-"
That was considerably more than Ellen wanted to know.
"And now look at you! A great big grown-up ten year old, with your very own Pip-Boy." She beamed. "Since this was such a special occasion, do you know what I did? I wrote you a poem! Just for you. I hope you like it."
She handed Ellen a piece of paper. "Thank you," Ellen said politely, starting to scan the lines over. When she reached the line about larvae hatching in steel tunnels she blanched. Please don't ask me to read it out loud. Please don't ask me to read it out loud. Please don't-
"Run along now, dearie, and have yourself a wonderful birthday!" Beatrice chirped before brushing past Ellen into the mess hall.
Thank you, Ellen silently thought, and set off for the reactor level at a run. She'd never been that far down in the Vault before, but there were plenty of signs on the walls, and her Pip-Boy had a button that brought up a map of Vault 101 at a moment's notice. The mazelike steel corridors wended through several levels and flights of stairs, finally bringing her down to a largely dark room full of humming equipment and monitoring terminals.
"What are you doing down here, young lady?" came a familiar baritone voice. It was Jonas Palmer, Old Lady Palmer's grandson and Ellen's father's most frequent assistant in the lab. "I thought kids weren't allowed on the reactor level."
"But- but Dad told me it was okay to- wait, you called for Dad to send me down!" Ellen protested. "What's going on?"
The dark-skinned man laughed. "Sorry, Ellen. Just a little bit of a joke. Happy birthday, by the way."
"Thank you, Jonas," Ellen automatically answered.
"Hang on just one more minute, would you? I think I hear someone coming."
"You most certainly did, Jonas," called Dad's voice from up the stairs. As he descended he asked, "Are you ready for your surprise?"
"Yes," said Ellen, and then, "What kind of surprise is it?"
James smiled. "The Overseer gave you your Pip-Boy, and you're old enough to do some work. So I figure you're old enough for this."
He held out a long, slender package in both hands. Ellen undid the cloth wrapping to find-
"Your own BB gun," James said proudly. "It's a little old, but it should work perfectly. Jonas found it down here. It was in pretty rough shape- took us a good three months to find the parts to get it working again."
"You know how tough it is to find a spring that small?" Jonas added. "Good thing Butch 'misplaced' that switchblade of his…"
"So," said Dad. "What do you think? Want to give it a try?"
"Here? Are we allowed to shoot guns down here?"
"As long as you're careful and nobody comes looking," said James. "Follow me. Jonas and I found a nice spot where you can practice."
He opened one of the huge, barred doors and led Ellen and Jonas down a wide tunnel full of crates and overhead conduits. At the far end were several round targets, rigged up on lengths of pipe. "You can lean on the footlocker if you want to steady your arms," Dad suggested. "That's the firing line. I wouldn't go any closer than that if I were you."
"Okay," said Ellen, who was only half listening. The targets were much more interesting, frankly. She'd seen a few other BB guns in the Vault before, so she knew how to use this one. She checked to be sure it was loaded, fired-
Crack! went the beebee, flying wide of the target. Ellen scowled.
"Easy, now," said James behind her. "Concentrate on your target. You can do this. . ."
She nodded, reloaded, and fired. With a crack! and a squeak, the first target spun on its central pole. So did the second, and the third. Ellen grinned and started to aim for the first target again when something the size of a baby scuttled out of the shadows.
"Careful," said Dad. "It's a radroach." There was a pause. "Think you can take care of that with your BB gun?"
"I'll try," Ellen said doubtfully. The thing was moving, after all.
"Just aim and shoot. You'll be fine."
Ellen nodded and sighted down the length of the gun's barrel. The radroach stopped, flaring its wings and hissing towards her. Suddenly convinced it was about to leap, Ellen sucked at her bottom lip and fired. Two hits later, the thing twitched and slumped to the floor.
The sound of applause echoed in the steel tunnel. Ellen turned to see Dad and Jonas smiling at her. "Good work!" said Dad. "That's one less radroach to deal with. Let's get a picture together. Capture the moment. Hey, Jonas! Get a picture of me with the big game hunter."
"Smile," called Jonas, lifting the camera to his eye.
The sound of clapping and squeaky trumpet toys blared as the lights in the Vault 101 main mess hall came on without warning. Ellen blinked, rubbing at her face with both hands. When she looked up, Dad was there- and so was her friend Amata, and Paul Hannon, and at least half a dozen other people as well. "You turned up the lights too fast, Andy, you blinded the poor kid!" came a mutter from somewhere nearby, but it didn't matter. Everyone else was calling out "Happy birthday!"
A little dazed, Ellen did her best to smile at everyone looking her way. There was Old Lady Palmer, Officer Gomez, Stanley, Andy the maintenance robot, Butch DeLoria and his pals- even Overseer Almodovar himself. Ellen was always a little bit afraid of him, but he only nodded in her direction, so she turned to face her father instead.
James was smiling. "Happy birthday, sweetie," he said. "I can't believe you're already ten. I’m so proud of you- if only your mother-"
"Congratulations, young lady," interrupted the Overseer. James fell silent at once. "I don't have to tell you how special this day is, do I? Down here in Vault 101, well- when you turn ten, you're ready to take on your first official Vault responsibilities. So here you are-"
The white-haired man (grey, more like, but several shades lighter than the grey that ran in Ellen's own family) reached over to a nearby table and retrieved a metal-and-glass wristlet almost exactly like the one he himself wore. "As Overseer, I hereby present to you your very own Pip-Boy 3000. Get used to it. You'll be getting your first work assignment tomorrow."
The Overseer chuckled at some unknown joke and turned away; James lifted his eyes ceilingwards for a bare instant. "Enjoy your party," he said. "You're only ten once, so have fun."
Ellen snapped the Pip-Boy open and clamped it into place over her left forearm. "Thanks, Dad."
"Happy birthday!" Amata called out, pushing past Ellen's father with a grin. As the older man walked away she said, "Your dad was afraid you were on to us. But I told him not to worry. You're so easy to fool!"
"Hey!" Ellen protested, but it didn't last long. Amata was right, after all. This was a total surprise. "Did you set this whole thing up? Thank you!"
"Oh, you're welcome! But really, your dad did most of it. I just helped with the decorations and stuff." She nodded towards the balloons stuck to the wall, and to the colorful HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner strung from one of the overhead fluorescent lights. "Hey! I bet you can't guess what I got you for your birthday. Go on, guess!"
Ellen hadn't been expecting a present from anybody, to be honest. The Pip-Boy, yes, but that wasn't a present. Everybody over the age of ten had one of those. At Amata's question she blurted out, "A date with Freddie Gomez?"
"What? Eww! I didn't know you even liked boys yet!" Amata wrinkled her nose. "No, no. Who's your favorite barbarian?"
She produced a worn, well-loved, but miraculously intact issue of-
"Grognak?" breathed Ellen. "A whole issue?"
"That's right, Grognak the Barbarian! Issue #14, and with no missing pages!" Amata beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I found this in a box of my father's old things, believe it or not. Imagine him reading comic books."
Ellen couldn't. She didn't even try.
"I guess everybody was young once," Amata continued. "Anyway. I'd better let you get back to all your other guests. I'll see you later, okay? Happy birthday!"
Amata trotted off towards where Stanley and Dad were trying to get something up onto the counter. Ellen ran her fingertips over the faded lettering of the comic's title, a little awestruck.
"I hope you appreciate the effort Amata put into this party," came the Overseer's voice from behind her. Ellen whirled almost guiltily to face him, shoving the comic hastily behind her back. "She really seems to like you, for some reason."
There are things one says, and things one does not say. Ellen nodded and said, "She did a great job," and did not say, "But couldn't you have helped her out?"
Not that it mattered. The Overseer must have heard her thoughts. He lifted an eyebrow and noted, "I do not allow the fact that Amata is my daughter to compromise my position as Overseer. I gave her all the appropriate paternal encouragement, of course, but I could not contribute extra Vault resources. That is simply what my position requires. No more, no less. I know Amata understands that perfectly well."
Ellen didn't dare imitate her father's look ceilingwards while facing the man in charge of absolutely everything in Vault 101. She only nodded and turned away, finding herself face to face with the considerably more cheerful Old Lady Palmer. "Enjoying yourself, dear?" Mrs. Palmer said. "I do hope you're having a nice party. Ten years old, my my my. Seems like only yesterday that your daddy came… Oh, goodness, listen to me ramble! You're waiting for your present, aren't you?"
Old Lady Palmer did tend to talk about things almost at random whether anyone was listening or not, but you didn't grow up as James Park's daughter without thoroughly learning manners. "Oh, you didn't have to bring me a present, Mrs. Palmer."
"Fiddlesticks! What ten year old doesn't like presents?" She shook her head. "I was ten once, believe it or not. My goodness, the Vault was practically crowded back then. Not like today. So few young people now… But here I am rambling on again, and you listening so politely. Here you go-" She produced a small package wrapped in sturdy brown paper. "A nice sweetroll that I baked for you just this morning. And it's all for you- no sharing required today!"
Obtaining the ingredients to do any personal baking or cooking in the Vault required a sizable share of a week's ration coupons, Ellen knew. "Thank you!" she answered. "Thank you very much."
"You're welcome, dear. Go enjoy it."
"Andy! Wait!" cried Amata's voice. Ellen spun around just in time to see the Mr. Handy unit's saw arm tear into the birthday cake on the counter. Gobbets of icing and cake went flying everywhere. "Oh, no…"
"Aw, nuts." Stanley, the chief maintenance engineer for both the robot and Vault 101 in general, shook his head. "Sorry about that… Hey, Ellen. You okay there, birthday girl?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she said. "It's okay, Mr. Armstrong. I know he meant well." Besides, she had Mrs. Palmer's sweetroll.
"Oh good." His face brightened considerably. "How d'you like that Pip-boy, anyway? Fit all right and everything?"
"Yes, Mr. Armstrong," Ellen answered- and then, because she'd seen the Overseer's wristlet, added, "It looks a little. . ."
"Older? Yeah, I know. Some folks think the A series is a bit basic, but I've always preferred 'em for their reliability. That Pip-Boy of yours'll probably outlast all of us." He dug in his pocket. "Oh, and here. Wear it in good health, kiddo."
The cap was the same design Ellen had seen in Mr. Brotch's history classes, in pictures of games played before the Great War. It was a little big for her, but that was all right. She'd just have to wear her hair differently to hold it in place. "Thank you!"
"Hey!" called out a voice; Ellen waved to Stanley and went to see who it was. Unfortunately, it was Butch DeLoria. The boy was a few months older than Ellen, and had never liked her or Amata. He and his friends were seated at a table away from the adults. "I'm hungry," he snapped, "and that stupid robot destroyed the cake. Gimme that sweetroll you got from Old Lady Palmer."
Ellen spared a glance towards the cake. There was still some of it left- not much, but enough for a slice or two. "Mrs. Palmer said I didn't have to share. It's my birthday," she answered.
"'Mrs. Palmer said I didn’t have to share'," Butch retorted in a nasal sing-song. "Who's talking about sharing, moron? I want the whole thing. Now are you going to give me that sweetroll, or am I going to give you a knuckle sandwich?"
Manners are all right as far as they go, but they just don't work on some people. "Go soak your head, Butch. I’m not giving you my sweetroll."
"Fine! Then I'm just gonna have to take it!" Butch lunged from his seat. Ellen jumped back out of the way, her cap falling off. She put up her arm, blocking the swing of Butch's fist, and wondered for an instant if he'd even feel it if she hit him back.
She never found out. "Butch, what do you think you're doing?" Officer Gomez called out, darting forward to grab Butch by the shoulder. "Leave her alone!"
The boy collapsed into his seat immediately, hunching his shoulders up around his ears rather than answer. Ellen mouthed a 'thank you' in the security officer's direction and found herself an empty table spot. This seemed like a golden opportunity to avoid further questions of what to do with that sweetroll. Her father, however, had seen what happened. "Are you all right, Ellen?" he asked. "Is Butch giving you a hard time again?"
"It's okay, Dad," Ellen said, a little more bravely than she really felt. "I can take care of myself."
"I'm glad to hear it. Once you start letting bullies push you around, you'll never see the end of it." He gestured towards the door. "Come on, now. I bet there's someone else out there with a present for you."
Oh, well, she hadn't unwrapped the sweetroll anyway…
"Thanks," Dad was saying into the intercom. "I'll send her right down." He turned towards Ellen again. "That was Jonas on the intercom. He and I have been cooking up a little surprise present. He's waiting for you on the reactor level. Go on ahead- I don't think anyone will mind if you skip out for a few minutes."
Ellen glanced at the party. People did seem to be having a good time, except for Butch and his table. And the further she got away from Butch, the better. "Okay, dad," she said. "Thank you."
She slipped out of the mess hall as soon as the steel door slid open, only to be met in the corridor by yet another adult. It was Beatrice- Stanley's daughter, one of Dad's more frequent patients. As much as Ellen liked Mr. Armstrong, Beatrice tended to give her the willies. "Happy birthday, dearie!" Beatrice trilled. "My goodness, I hope I didn't miss the party! Ten years old already? Why, I can remember helping your dad change your diapers-"
That was considerably more than Ellen wanted to know.
"And now look at you! A great big grown-up ten year old, with your very own Pip-Boy." She beamed. "Since this was such a special occasion, do you know what I did? I wrote you a poem! Just for you. I hope you like it."
She handed Ellen a piece of paper. "Thank you," Ellen said politely, starting to scan the lines over. When she reached the line about larvae hatching in steel tunnels she blanched. Please don't ask me to read it out loud. Please don't ask me to read it out loud. Please don't-
"Run along now, dearie, and have yourself a wonderful birthday!" Beatrice chirped before brushing past Ellen into the mess hall.
Thank you, Ellen silently thought, and set off for the reactor level at a run. She'd never been that far down in the Vault before, but there were plenty of signs on the walls, and her Pip-Boy had a button that brought up a map of Vault 101 at a moment's notice. The mazelike steel corridors wended through several levels and flights of stairs, finally bringing her down to a largely dark room full of humming equipment and monitoring terminals.
"What are you doing down here, young lady?" came a familiar baritone voice. It was Jonas Palmer, Old Lady Palmer's grandson and Ellen's father's most frequent assistant in the lab. "I thought kids weren't allowed on the reactor level."
"But- but Dad told me it was okay to- wait, you called for Dad to send me down!" Ellen protested. "What's going on?"
The dark-skinned man laughed. "Sorry, Ellen. Just a little bit of a joke. Happy birthday, by the way."
"Thank you, Jonas," Ellen automatically answered.
"Hang on just one more minute, would you? I think I hear someone coming."
"You most certainly did, Jonas," called Dad's voice from up the stairs. As he descended he asked, "Are you ready for your surprise?"
"Yes," said Ellen, and then, "What kind of surprise is it?"
James smiled. "The Overseer gave you your Pip-Boy, and you're old enough to do some work. So I figure you're old enough for this."
He held out a long, slender package in both hands. Ellen undid the cloth wrapping to find-
"Your own BB gun," James said proudly. "It's a little old, but it should work perfectly. Jonas found it down here. It was in pretty rough shape- took us a good three months to find the parts to get it working again."
"You know how tough it is to find a spring that small?" Jonas added. "Good thing Butch 'misplaced' that switchblade of his…"
"So," said Dad. "What do you think? Want to give it a try?"
"Here? Are we allowed to shoot guns down here?"
"As long as you're careful and nobody comes looking," said James. "Follow me. Jonas and I found a nice spot where you can practice."
He opened one of the huge, barred doors and led Ellen and Jonas down a wide tunnel full of crates and overhead conduits. At the far end were several round targets, rigged up on lengths of pipe. "You can lean on the footlocker if you want to steady your arms," Dad suggested. "That's the firing line. I wouldn't go any closer than that if I were you."
"Okay," said Ellen, who was only half listening. The targets were much more interesting, frankly. She'd seen a few other BB guns in the Vault before, so she knew how to use this one. She checked to be sure it was loaded, fired-
Crack! went the beebee, flying wide of the target. Ellen scowled.
"Easy, now," said James behind her. "Concentrate on your target. You can do this. . ."
She nodded, reloaded, and fired. With a crack! and a squeak, the first target spun on its central pole. So did the second, and the third. Ellen grinned and started to aim for the first target again when something the size of a baby scuttled out of the shadows.
"Careful," said Dad. "It's a radroach." There was a pause. "Think you can take care of that with your BB gun?"
"I'll try," Ellen said doubtfully. The thing was moving, after all.
"Just aim and shoot. You'll be fine."
Ellen nodded and sighted down the length of the gun's barrel. The radroach stopped, flaring its wings and hissing towards her. Suddenly convinced it was about to leap, Ellen sucked at her bottom lip and fired. Two hits later, the thing twitched and slumped to the floor.
The sound of applause echoed in the steel tunnel. Ellen turned to see Dad and Jonas smiling at her. "Good work!" said Dad. "That's one less radroach to deal with. Let's get a picture together. Capture the moment. Hey, Jonas! Get a picture of me with the big game hunter."
"Smile," called Jonas, lifting the camera to his eye.