Vault 108
The vast gear-shaped door to Vault 108 stood halfway open, as if its mechanisms had frozen mid-order; Ellen bit her lip. "That's not a good sign," she murmured.
"Indeed," Cross answered. "I doubt we'll find anything of use here. That door's been open too long."
"How-" Ellen stopped, held up her left arm. Her Pip-Boy's light played over patches of corrosion on the teeth of the great gear that must have formed centuries ago. "I see what you mean... still, we have to be sure, don't we?"
Cross nodded. "We have no way of knowing who or what might have entered this place. Simple raiders or wanderers looking for shelter might have stumbled across a GECK and not realized what they'd found."
Ellen squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "All right, then," she said. "Let's see what's left to see..."
The room beyond had an unpleasant whiff to it, but not the dank, fishy odor she remembered too well from Vault 92. The air here had circulated more recently, at least. Of course, the front door of 92 had been sealed shut, but-
Dogmeat's barking suddenly filled the air as the scabrous pink form of a mole rat darted through Ellen's light beam. She sighed and slipped Gene Hunt's electric knuckles onto her right hand. Mole rats weren't worth wasting plasma shots on.
Three darkened rooms in, the smell of old blood caught Ellen's nostrils for the first time. Damn it, she'd been hoping not to run across that here. Just once it'd be nice... well no point getitng upset now. "Star Paladin?" she said. Cross looked up. "Something died near here a while ago."
"It might be a mole rat," Cross said, "but we'd better be careful anyway."
She hefted her Super Sledge meaningfully. Ellen slipped the electric knuckles off and drew her plasma rifle. She edged forward, waiting for Cross to ease the thick metal door open a little further, and swept the room ahead with her light. A flash of blue caught her attention; she froze. She knew that shade of blue. That was Vault suit blue. "Cross," she said.
"I see it." Cross' voice was steady.
Hands shaking a little Ellen moved forward. The crumpled, inert form was that of a man with light brown hair somewhere in his twenties. His throat had been torn out by the mole rats, by the look of things; nearby a ten-millimeter pistol with no ammunition left bore mute witness to his attempts at self defense. His suit said 108 across the back. There was a Pip-Boy on his left forearm, but Ellen couldn't get it to activate. "That's strange," she said. "I've never known anything that could disable these."
"Pulse weaponry, maybe," said Cross. "But nothing less."
Ellen shook her head and closed the man's eyes. Whatever had happened to him, he wouldn't be answering any more questions today.
There were lights switched on further along in the twisting, turning corridor. Ellen relaxed fractionally. The darkness of the Metro tunnels was one thing, but being inside a Vault with no light and no power was its own kind of wrongness. Vault 92's blackness had offered far too many opportunities to imagine the terrible things that must've prevailed in the Vault's final days. This one... this Vault felt strange, yes, but at least there were living people here. At least, she hoped so- another Vault tended by Robobrains the way 112 had been would be a bit much.
"The reactor's still running," Cross observed. "That's a good sign. I doubt Wastelanders would've been able to reactivate it."
"And it wouldn't be running this far down the line without people tending it," Ellen said. "So there's probably still a population, not just that one man we found."
"Most likely," agreed Cross. "Still, vigilance is advised. These people probably won't take kindly to intruders in their home."
Ellen was about to answer, but Dogmeat's head suddenly came up at the sound of footfalls. The heeler let out a low chuffing bark. "Who's there?" Ellen called.
"Gary?"
Dogmeat pressed himself against Ellen's leg for a moment before starting to growl. It was all the warning Ellen had. Gary came racing around a turn in the corridor at full tilt, brandishing a lead pipe, his face contorted in an insane snarl. By the time she got her finger on the trigger Dogmeat had already leapt. There was no safe way to take a shot after that. When she finally managed to pry the dog off the man's corpse he was too mangled to make out any more about him beyond his hair; it was the same light brown color as the dead fellow upstairs.
There were footsteps up ahead at the top of the stairs. Ellen said nothing, only crouched down and took firm hold of Dogmeat's collar with both hands. Cross flattened herself as best anyone in power armor could against the corridor wall. "I think there are two of them," she muttered.
"Sounds like it," Ellen answered, equally quietly. "I don't-"
"Gary?" said someone upstairs.
Ellen winced. How they were going to apologize for killing one of these Vault dwellers she didn't know. She drew breath to answer.
And then she didn't, because the same voice said, "Gary?", twice. Not one time after the other, as one might expect when looking for a lost comrade- but twice at nearly the same time, as if two recordings of exactly the same voice were playing, not quite in sync. She tossed a wide-eyed look in Cross's direction, but the Paladin only shrugged.
"Gary? Gaaaaaaaaary..."
Ellen couldn't help it; she leaned forward, craning her neck to see if she could get a glimpse of the speakers. The angle was bad, but they looked to be about the same height. Both wore Pip-Boys, and one had a substantial knife in his hand. The other had a baseball bat. Beyond that she couldn't-
"GaGaaaararyy..." they chorused in not quite unison. The first one stepped onto the stairs. Ellen sucked in a breath; he could have been the dead man's double.
So could his utterly identical companion, whose eyes lit up with an unholy joy as he caught sight of Ellen and Dogmeat. He hefted his baseball bat and all but purred, "Garrrrrrrrry."
Reflexively, Ellen let go of Dogmeat's collar.
Three of them came charging out of the shadows at the far end of the atrium. They all had the same face.
Ellen could still hear the last one screaming "GARY!" as he dissolved into a puddle of luminescent green goo.
Most of the storerooms were either emptied out or very close to the end of their supplies. The armory, when they found it, was stuffed to the ceiling with knives and pistols and bludgeons of every kind. Ellen had seen Vault 101's armory once; this was easily three times 101's stock.
As she took a moment to empty as many clips of ten-millimeter ammo into her pack as possible- she'd give it back if they found anyone sane- it occurred to her that there were an awful lot of weapons missing from their racks. She took a moment to press her ear against the inner wall.
"GaaaGaaaaarGaaaarrryaarrrrrrry...."
She jerked her head away from the wall instantly.
ROBCO INDUSTRIES UNIFIED OPERATING SYSTEM
COPYRIGHT 2075-2077 ROBCO INDUSTRIES
-Laboratory Server 2-
(CORRUPTION DETECTED)
(ATTEMPT PARTIAL RECOVERY)
//'&'mpt #53:
Gary 53 is hostile toward all non-clones, as was /.e case with t.e previous 52 attempts. We may have to con'&der a mea.s of disposal of the prelexistin' Gary clones, as the obs.rvation r00ms are g3tting quite full.
A//empt #54:
Gary 54 e>hibit5 no change in hostility toward non-clones. If anYThing/ he is even more hostile. Dr. P.Ters0n can attest to this, having b33n injured while e\/mining Gary 54. Tomorrow we are goi^g to dispose 'f several of the Gary clones, wh1(h will leave room for many more a//3mpts.
(END SALVAGED DATA RECORD)
There was a door. Ellen couldn't hear anything behind it. She looked to Cross to open it anyway.
Somehow, the fact that the room was lined on every wall with glass containers, each full of bubbling liquid holding a sleeping, naked man with tubes running in and out of his nose, his mouth, and his abdomen, completely failed to surprise her. The fact that all of the men had the same face was also no longer anything like a surprise.
The moment when all of them awoke and began flinging themselves at the walls of their glass prisons in silent, blazing, homicidal rage? That caught her off her guard. But not for long.
"Star Paladin," said Ellen, squinting furiously as the light of day seared at her eyes, "I don't think anyone should ever find this place, ever again."
"As much as the Brotherhood's mandate is to find and recover prewar technology," said Cross, "I think I agree with you. I also think we need to put as much ground between it and ourselves as possible, as soon as possible."
"You won't get any argument from me." She shook the sun-dazzle from her eyes and found the clump of brush behind which they'd hidden the robotic horse. The sooner she could load her pack onto that thing, the sooner they could start running in earnest, and the sooner she could be sure she no longer had the sound of "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaary" ringing in her ears.
"Indeed," Cross answered. "I doubt we'll find anything of use here. That door's been open too long."
"How-" Ellen stopped, held up her left arm. Her Pip-Boy's light played over patches of corrosion on the teeth of the great gear that must have formed centuries ago. "I see what you mean... still, we have to be sure, don't we?"
Cross nodded. "We have no way of knowing who or what might have entered this place. Simple raiders or wanderers looking for shelter might have stumbled across a GECK and not realized what they'd found."
Ellen squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "All right, then," she said. "Let's see what's left to see..."
The room beyond had an unpleasant whiff to it, but not the dank, fishy odor she remembered too well from Vault 92. The air here had circulated more recently, at least. Of course, the front door of 92 had been sealed shut, but-
Dogmeat's barking suddenly filled the air as the scabrous pink form of a mole rat darted through Ellen's light beam. She sighed and slipped Gene Hunt's electric knuckles onto her right hand. Mole rats weren't worth wasting plasma shots on.
Three darkened rooms in, the smell of old blood caught Ellen's nostrils for the first time. Damn it, she'd been hoping not to run across that here. Just once it'd be nice... well no point getitng upset now. "Star Paladin?" she said. Cross looked up. "Something died near here a while ago."
"It might be a mole rat," Cross said, "but we'd better be careful anyway."
She hefted her Super Sledge meaningfully. Ellen slipped the electric knuckles off and drew her plasma rifle. She edged forward, waiting for Cross to ease the thick metal door open a little further, and swept the room ahead with her light. A flash of blue caught her attention; she froze. She knew that shade of blue. That was Vault suit blue. "Cross," she said.
"I see it." Cross' voice was steady.
Hands shaking a little Ellen moved forward. The crumpled, inert form was that of a man with light brown hair somewhere in his twenties. His throat had been torn out by the mole rats, by the look of things; nearby a ten-millimeter pistol with no ammunition left bore mute witness to his attempts at self defense. His suit said 108 across the back. There was a Pip-Boy on his left forearm, but Ellen couldn't get it to activate. "That's strange," she said. "I've never known anything that could disable these."
"Pulse weaponry, maybe," said Cross. "But nothing less."
Ellen shook her head and closed the man's eyes. Whatever had happened to him, he wouldn't be answering any more questions today.
There were lights switched on further along in the twisting, turning corridor. Ellen relaxed fractionally. The darkness of the Metro tunnels was one thing, but being inside a Vault with no light and no power was its own kind of wrongness. Vault 92's blackness had offered far too many opportunities to imagine the terrible things that must've prevailed in the Vault's final days. This one... this Vault felt strange, yes, but at least there were living people here. At least, she hoped so- another Vault tended by Robobrains the way 112 had been would be a bit much.
"The reactor's still running," Cross observed. "That's a good sign. I doubt Wastelanders would've been able to reactivate it."
"And it wouldn't be running this far down the line without people tending it," Ellen said. "So there's probably still a population, not just that one man we found."
"Most likely," agreed Cross. "Still, vigilance is advised. These people probably won't take kindly to intruders in their home."
Ellen was about to answer, but Dogmeat's head suddenly came up at the sound of footfalls. The heeler let out a low chuffing bark. "Who's there?" Ellen called.
"Gary?"
Dogmeat pressed himself against Ellen's leg for a moment before starting to growl. It was all the warning Ellen had. Gary came racing around a turn in the corridor at full tilt, brandishing a lead pipe, his face contorted in an insane snarl. By the time she got her finger on the trigger Dogmeat had already leapt. There was no safe way to take a shot after that. When she finally managed to pry the dog off the man's corpse he was too mangled to make out any more about him beyond his hair; it was the same light brown color as the dead fellow upstairs.
There were footsteps up ahead at the top of the stairs. Ellen said nothing, only crouched down and took firm hold of Dogmeat's collar with both hands. Cross flattened herself as best anyone in power armor could against the corridor wall. "I think there are two of them," she muttered.
"Sounds like it," Ellen answered, equally quietly. "I don't-"
"Gary?" said someone upstairs.
Ellen winced. How they were going to apologize for killing one of these Vault dwellers she didn't know. She drew breath to answer.
And then she didn't, because the same voice said, "Gary?", twice. Not one time after the other, as one might expect when looking for a lost comrade- but twice at nearly the same time, as if two recordings of exactly the same voice were playing, not quite in sync. She tossed a wide-eyed look in Cross's direction, but the Paladin only shrugged.
"Gary? Gaaaaaaaaary..."
Ellen couldn't help it; she leaned forward, craning her neck to see if she could get a glimpse of the speakers. The angle was bad, but they looked to be about the same height. Both wore Pip-Boys, and one had a substantial knife in his hand. The other had a baseball bat. Beyond that she couldn't-
"GaGaaaararyy..." they chorused in not quite unison. The first one stepped onto the stairs. Ellen sucked in a breath; he could have been the dead man's double.
So could his utterly identical companion, whose eyes lit up with an unholy joy as he caught sight of Ellen and Dogmeat. He hefted his baseball bat and all but purred, "Garrrrrrrrry."
Reflexively, Ellen let go of Dogmeat's collar.
Three of them came charging out of the shadows at the far end of the atrium. They all had the same face.
Ellen could still hear the last one screaming "GARY!" as he dissolved into a puddle of luminescent green goo.
Most of the storerooms were either emptied out or very close to the end of their supplies. The armory, when they found it, was stuffed to the ceiling with knives and pistols and bludgeons of every kind. Ellen had seen Vault 101's armory once; this was easily three times 101's stock.
As she took a moment to empty as many clips of ten-millimeter ammo into her pack as possible- she'd give it back if they found anyone sane- it occurred to her that there were an awful lot of weapons missing from their racks. She took a moment to press her ear against the inner wall.
"GaaaGaaaaarGaaaarrryaarrrrrrry...."
She jerked her head away from the wall instantly.
ROBCO INDUSTRIES UNIFIED OPERATING SYSTEM
COPYRIGHT 2075-2077 ROBCO INDUSTRIES
-Laboratory Server 2-
(CORRUPTION DETECTED)
(ATTEMPT PARTIAL RECOVERY)
//'&'mpt #53:
Gary 53 is hostile toward all non-clones, as was /.e case with t.e previous 52 attempts. We may have to con'&der a mea.s of disposal of the prelexistin' Gary clones, as the obs.rvation r00ms are g3tting quite full.
A//empt #54:
Gary 54 e>hibit5 no change in hostility toward non-clones. If anYThing/ he is even more hostile. Dr. P.Ters0n can attest to this, having b33n injured while e\/mining Gary 54. Tomorrow we are goi^g to dispose 'f several of the Gary clones, wh1(h will leave room for many more a//3mpts.
(END SALVAGED DATA RECORD)
There was a door. Ellen couldn't hear anything behind it. She looked to Cross to open it anyway.
Somehow, the fact that the room was lined on every wall with glass containers, each full of bubbling liquid holding a sleeping, naked man with tubes running in and out of his nose, his mouth, and his abdomen, completely failed to surprise her. The fact that all of the men had the same face was also no longer anything like a surprise.
The moment when all of them awoke and began flinging themselves at the walls of their glass prisons in silent, blazing, homicidal rage? That caught her off her guard. But not for long.
"Star Paladin," said Ellen, squinting furiously as the light of day seared at her eyes, "I don't think anyone should ever find this place, ever again."
"As much as the Brotherhood's mandate is to find and recover prewar technology," said Cross, "I think I agree with you. I also think we need to put as much ground between it and ourselves as possible, as soon as possible."
"You won't get any argument from me." She shook the sun-dazzle from her eyes and found the clump of brush behind which they'd hidden the robotic horse. The sooner she could load her pack onto that thing, the sooner they could start running in earnest, and the sooner she could be sure she no longer had the sound of "Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaary" ringing in her ears.