Olney Powerworks
There were Deathclaws and Enclave and fire and falling concrete and all kinds of horrible things not all that very long ago. Now.... now, with the massive steel door of the Olney Powerworks firmly closed behind everyone, it's quiet.
Well. Mostly quiet. There's the hum of an ancient generator somewhere in the distance.
And the faint rasp of air through a ventilation system that wanted to give up a very long time ago.
And the whirr of something moving through corridors reasonably close by.
Oh, right, and the sound of thrusters as a spherical robot with three arms, three equilaterally spaced optic sensors, and a flamethrower putters past on the prowl for security violations up ahead.
"All I ask," mutters Ellen, "is that anything that looks even remotely like a Tesla coil be spared. Or holotapes that might have plans on them. Otherwise, go to town."
The sooner they're done here the better.
Well. Mostly quiet. There's the hum of an ancient generator somewhere in the distance.
And the faint rasp of air through a ventilation system that wanted to give up a very long time ago.
And the whirr of something moving through corridors reasonably close by.
Oh, right, and the sound of thrusters as a spherical robot with three arms, three equilaterally spaced optic sensors, and a flamethrower putters past on the prowl for security violations up ahead.
"All I ask," mutters Ellen, "is that anything that looks even remotely like a Tesla coil be spared. Or holotapes that might have plans on them. Otherwise, go to town."
The sooner they're done here the better.