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Outside, night had fallen — the faint buzz of generators humming through the compound, the distant sound of patrol boots echoing through the streets of Sanctuary. Somewhere out there, families were lighting lamps, telling their children that the monster was gone.
The hum of the generator outside his office had a rhythm to it — steady, mechanical, comforting in its predictability. Sico had grown used to that sound; it was the heartbeat of Sanctuary, a reminder that the Republic lived and breathed because men and women refused to give up on rebuilding the world.
The morning light filtered through the blinds, thin lines of gold cutting across the maps and papers that littered his desk. He hadn't slept much. The night had been long, filled with the dull ache of thoughts that refused to quiet — faces, decisions, the image of the rope swaying in the wind.
But dawn didn't wait for the living to rest.
He reached for the cup beside him — black coffee, cold by now — just as the shortwave radio on the corner of his desk crackled to life. The sound was faint, almost hesitant, like someone testing a ghost of a signal. He turned toward it slowly, his brow furrowing.
"Commander Sico… come in. This is Li."
Her voice came through filtered static, soft but urgent.
He leaned forward immediately, lowering the volume of the generator hum through the wall control before pressing the transmitter button. "Li. I read you. Channel's clear. Go ahead."
There was a pause — the sound of paper shifting on the other end, maybe the faint scrape of a chair. Then Madison Li spoke again, her voice tighter now, the weight of what she carried bleeding through every word.
"I've done what I can to stall the Liberty Prime project," she said. "For now, it's still in the final integration stage — power relays, targeting uplink, command routines — all still in flux. But once they start the full core activation process, it'll be out of my hands."
Sico sat back slightly, the mention of Liberty Prime stirring a familiar pressure in his chest. That towering relic of pre-war power, a weapon dressed in patriotism — and in the wrong hands, a god made of steel.
"How long can you hold them off?" he asked.
"I'm buying time," Madison replied. "Maybe two months. Three, if Maxson's patience doesn't run out first. The main thing holding them back is energy capacity — and that's because you took the beryllium agitator months ago."
There was a wry edge to her voice, somewhere between exasperation and reluctant admiration.
Sico's jaw tightened. "We needed it. It powers Sanctuary's grid. Without it, half the Republic would be in darkness."
"I know," Li said quickly. "And honestly, it's the only thing keeping me from being cornered right now. I told Maxson we're searching for a long-term alternative to power the Prime — something sustainable. He doesn't like it, but he can't argue the math. Without a stable energy source, firing that machine would drain their reserves and risk crippling their fleet."
Sico rubbed his temple, mind already working through the possibilities. "And you think he'll buy it for that long?"
"He doesn't have a choice," she said. "He's frustrated, sure — pacing, pushing, shouting orders — but he still believes Liberty Prime is his trump card against the Institute and, if he ever needs it, against anyone else. That belief makes him cautious. He won't risk damaging it before it's ready."
Sico could almost picture it: Maxson standing in his steel office aboard the Prydwen, cape brushing against cold metal floors, fire burning in his eyes. The man believed in war the way some people believed in God.
He said nothing for a moment. Just let the thought hang there.
Then, quietly: "You've done well, Li. Better than I could have asked."
"Don't thank me yet," she said, her tone softening slightly. "If he suspects I'm deliberately delaying things, I'll be done for. You know what the Brotherhood does to 'traitors.'"
Sico's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. "You're not a traitor. You're trying to stop a war."
"That distinction doesn't exist to Maxson," Li replied. "To him, hesitation is betrayal. But…"
Her voice trailed off for a moment — a hesitation that made Sico lean forward slightly.
"But what?"
She exhaled, static briefly drowning her words. When her voice came back, it was quieter. "There's something else. They've started rerouting their surveillance satellites — not just for the Institute anymore. There's movement in their data targeting arrays. They're watching the Commonwealth more broadly now. Scanning for power signatures that match yours."
Sico froze. "Ours?"
"Yes," Li said grimly. "The Freemasons Republic runs on energy sources too clean, too strong, too efficient. It stands out like a beacon compared to the rest of the wasteland. It's only a matter of time before they pinpoint the Sanctuary grid — and when they do, Maxson send a team to infiltrate to take the agitator."
The room felt suddenly smaller, tighter. The low hum of the generator beyond the wall no longer comforting — now it sounded like the pulse of something exposed.
Sico spoke slowly. "So he'll do anything necessary then."
"Yes," Li said.
The silence that followed wasn't empty — it was sharp. Heavy. Sico could almost hear the wind outside shift against the walls, as if the world itself had gone still for a breath.
He leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "Two to three months," he said quietly, more to himself than her. "That's our window."
"Exactly," Li said. "Use it. Strengthen your defenses. Relocate key assets. Whatever you need to do — do it now. Because when the Prime goes live, there won't be a second warning."
Sico's gaze drifted toward the window — the morning sun now flooding the streets outside, catching on the patrol armor of soldiers walking their routes, the faint laughter of children echoing somewhere in the distance. Sanctuary looked peaceful. It always did in daylight.
He pressed the transmitter again. "Li."
"Yes?"
"Don't take unnecessary risks. If it comes to it — if he orders a direct audit or sends Knight-Captains down to check the systems — get out. Don't die for this."
There was a pause on the other end, then a soft, almost resigned laugh. "You forget, Commander — I've worked with bigger egos than Maxson's. I can handle him. For now."
Her voice softened after that, almost wistful. "You once told me peace was built on borrowed time. I think you were right."
Sico didn't answer at first. He just stared at the desk — at the cold coffee, at the stack of reports waiting to be signed, at the faint reflection of the sunlight cutting across the windowpane.
Finally, he said, "Then let's make sure we borrow as much of it as we can."
The radio crackled one last time before the signal cut, fading into silence.
Sico sat there for a long while afterward, the echo of Li's words looping quietly in his head.
He knew what this meant. The Brotherhood's patience was finite — and Maxson's even more so. When that patience burned out, Liberty Prime would walk again, and when it did, its first step could crush everything the Republic had built.
He stood slowly, crossing to the window. Outside, Sanctuary was stirring into full motion now — workers hauling scrap, farmers carrying tools, engineers heading toward the reactor yards. He watched them all, that ordinary rhythm of survival, and thought of how fragile it was — how one command from a distant skyship could turn it to ash.
He needed to move. To prepare.
The knock on the door came lightly — two quick taps, then a pause. Sarah.
"Come in," Sico said.
She entered with her usual purpose, clipboard in hand, eyes already scanning his desk before she even spoke. "Patrol reports are in. Eastern perimeter's quiet. No signs of raider movement for the last forty-eight hours. But…"
She trailed off when she saw his face. "Something's wrong."
Sico didn't bother denying it. "We've got a problem," he said, turning from the window. "Madison Li just contacted me."
Sarah's brows drew together slightly. "From the Prydwen?"
He nodded. "She's stalling Liberty Prime's activation. Says she can delay it two, maybe three months. But Maxson's watching, and if he loses patience…"
Sarah finished for him quietly. "They'll bring it online. And if they do, they'll come for us."
Sico nodded once.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the generator outside pressed faintly against the silence between them, like the heartbeat of something vast and unseen. Sarah's eyes stayed on him, searching, patient, waiting for the part of him that always turned instinct into action.
It came with the weight of a sigh.
"Alright," Sico said finally, voice low but steady. "We're not taking chances this time."
He moved from behind his desk, pacing slowly toward the wall where a map of the Republic hung—hand-drawn, patched together from fragments of old pre-war blueprints and the dirt-smeared sketches of scouts. Every settlement, every outpost, every trade route was marked in ink. And across the upper edge of the map, a long streak of red symbolized the Brotherhood's reach.
Sico stared at it for a moment before speaking again.
"Double the patrols on every perimeter. I don't care if the last two days have been quiet — quiet's how they start. I want night routes covered too. East, west, every bridge and checkpoint. If they're watching us, I want to know before they even blink."
Sarah's pencil was already moving across her clipboard, her voice brisk but composed. "I can rearrange the current rotations, pull a few squads from the northern pass to reinforce the eastern perimeter."
"Not just rearrange," Sico said sharply, turning to face her. "Increase. I want more boots on the ground. Talk to Preston — tell him to start recruiting again."
Sarah's brow lifted slightly. "Recruiting? You think we have time for training right now?"
"I'm not talking about anyone," he said. "I'm talking about the right people — the ones who've proven they'll stand for the Republic, not just draw rations from it. The kind who remember why we built this place. Loyalty first, skill second."
Sarah met his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "Understood."
Sico exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it briefly before continuing. "And tell him to start immediately. I want interviews running by sundown. If the Brotherhood's planning something, I want our ranks ready to move before they make their first mistake."
"I'll relay it to him myself," Sarah said. "Preston won't waste time."
"Good."
Sico crossed back to his desk and leaned against it, the wood creaking softly under his weight. His gaze drifted toward the corner where a stack of requisition forms sat — untouched for days. Production reports, factory updates, material shortages. All the machinery that kept the Republic breathing.
"Now," he said, his tone hardening, "we need the factories running at full output. Weapons, armor, ammunition — everything. If they need more materials, tell them to pull from the reserves. And if that's not enough…"
He let the sentence trail off deliberately. Sarah was sharp enough to finish it herself.
"…we call Hancock," she said quietly.
Sico nodded. "Exactly. He and his scavenger teams can get us whatever's missing. Scrap, circuitry, ballistic fibers, power cells — I don't care what it takes. Tell him he has my full authorization to move through the old industrial sectors if he needs to."
"Even the collapsed ones?" Sarah asked.
"If that's where the good steel is," Sico replied. "We can't afford to ration our strength. Not now."
Sarah scribbled another quick note, her expression thoughtful, controlled. But Sico could see the faint tension at the corner of her jaw. She understood what his tone meant — that this wasn't just precaution anymore. It was preparation.
He looked past her toward the window again. Outside, the morning was growing brighter, the town alive now with the clatter of daily work — hammers striking steel, boots against gravel, the distant murmur of people greeting one another. It should have felt like reassurance. Instead, it only reminded him of how much there was to lose.
"You think they'll come straight for us?" Sarah asked after a moment.
Sico didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed on the horizon. "No. Not at first. Maxson's too proud for that. He'll send eyes first — scouts, infiltrators. He'll want proof before he declares anything. But once he has it…"
Sarah finished softly, "He'll send Prime."
Sico's eyes darkened. "Yeah. He'll send Prime."
For a moment, silence swallowed the room again — the kind that came not from fear, but from the knowledge of inevitability. The kind of silence before storms.
Then Sico straightened, his tone turning deliberate, commanding.
"From this moment forward, everything we do is under the assumption that we're being watched. No leaks, no transmissions outside secure channels. Not even casual talk in the mess halls. If the Brotherhood's scanning power grids, they'll be scanning chatter too."
Sarah's lips pressed into a thin line. "Understood. I'll brief the officers personally."
"Good," he said. "And Sarah — one more thing."
She looked at him.
"I want the people calm," he said. "They can't suspect what's coming. If they start panicking, production slows, families scatter, and we lose what makes us stronger than the Brotherhood — unity. We keep this quiet. Just the command circle knows."
Sarah gave a short nod. "I'll make sure of it."
As she turned to leave, Sico's voice stopped her.
"Sarah."
She looked back.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Her expression softened for just a heartbeat before the officer's mask slid back into place. "Don't thank me yet," she said quietly. "We've got a long way to go."
Then she was gone, leaving the door swinging gently behind her.
The rest of the day unfolded like a slow tide. Word of Sico's new orders spread through the command channels in silence, carried by trusted voices and sealed memos. The hum of Sanctuary's heart began to change.
At the barracks, Preston Garvey stood by the recruitment board, hands clasped behind his back as a new line of potential volunteers gathered before him. Men and women in scavenged armor, dirt still on their boots, eyes half-tired but burning with something steadier — conviction.
He watched them in silence for a moment before stepping forward.
"You're not here for food or pay," he said. "You're here because you believe in this place — in what it stands for. Sanctuary isn't just walls and guns. It's a promise. That promise is under threat again. And we need people who won't break when that day comes."
He paused, his gaze steady. "If that's you — if you're ready to stand for the Republic — then step forward."
The line shifted. Slowly, deliberately, one after another, they stepped forward.
By nightfall, a dozen new recruits had been accepted into the training rotations.
At the same time, on the western edge of town, the foundries roared to life. Sparks filled the air as engineers worked late into the evening, welding, cutting, forging — the rhythmic clang of hammers echoing through the open bays. The smell of oil and hot metal hung thick in the air.
Inside the weapons plant, Robert Marshall oversaw the assembly lines. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands smudged with soot, but his voice carried sharp authority.
"I don't care what shift you're on," he barked over the din. "We're running full cycles now — twenty-four-hour rotation until I say otherwise. Ammunition presses, armor plating, rifle tuning, everything. If something breaks, fix it. If you're tired, drink water and keep moving."
One of the engineers shouted from the upper platform, "We're low on steel composite, sir!"
Robert pointed sharply. "Then get it from Hancock's boys. He's got caches near the old airport ruins. Tell him Sico authorized it."
The engineer nodded and hurried off, and Robert turned back toward the smelting line, the firelight glinting against his worn goggles. The sound of molten metal filled the air — heavy, alive, urgent.
It wasn't just production anymore. It was preparation for survival.
By the time night fell, Sanctuary's hum had changed completely. The streets were quieter — not out of peace, but of focus. Patrol squads moved in pairs, flashlights cutting through the dark as boots clicked against concrete. Watchtowers glowed with steady beams.
Sico stood at the overlook above the courtyard, coat buttoned against the chill. From here, he could see nearly all of Sanctuary — the glowing windows of workshops, the faint trails of smoke rising from the armory, the guards pacing their paths along the perimeter.
Sarah approached from behind, her steps soft but certain. "Patrols are doubled," she reported. "East and west are fully manned. Preston's already begun the new recruit evaluations. Factories are operating through the night."
Sico nodded, eyes still fixed on the city below. "Good."
"They're responding well," she added. "No panic. Just… quiet determination."
"That's the spirit that built this place," Sico said softly.
He leaned on the railing, the cool metal pressing against his palms as he watched a pair of soldiers exchange salutes below. The glow from the foundries painted the night sky a faint orange.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Sarah said quietly, "Do you think we can win if it comes to that?"
Sico didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed on the horizon where, far beyond their walls, the faint glimmer of the Prydwen sometimes showed on clear nights — like a second moon hanging in judgment.
"We're not fighting to win," he said at last. "We're fighting to survive. To outlast. The Brotherhood fights for control. We fight for home."
Sarah looked at him, something heavy in her expression. "And if they send Prime?"
Sico's jaw tightened. "Then we remind them that the Republic was built by people who already survived the end of the world once."
The words hung between them, quiet but solid.
Sarah nodded. "Then we'll be ready."
She turned to go, but Sico stopped her with one last thing.
"Sarah — make sure Hancock's team knows what they're walking into. The ruins are still unstable. I don't want another casualty for the sake of a few tons of steel."
"I'll tell him myself," she said. "He'll appreciate that."
"Good."
The night wind carried the faint scent of rain — that sharp, metallic taste that came before a storm — as Sico made his way down the main street of Sanctuary. The glow of the foundries and generator lights painted the gravel in streaks of amber and shadow, and every few meters a patrol passed him, their boots steady, rifles slung, eyes alert but calm.
He returned their salutes with a nod, his coat trailing slightly behind him as he walked. The compound felt different tonight. Not fearful — not yet — but focused. Like the entire Republic had taken a single, collective breath and was holding it, waiting for whatever came next.
He'd given his orders. Sarah would see them done. Preston would bring in new blood. Hancock would scour the ruins for steel. Every part of the Republic machine was now moving — silent, deliberate, unseen. But there was one piece left, one that couldn't be commanded with rank or title.
Nora.
He turned at the fork that led to the residential quarters — smaller homes built from the bones of pre-war houses, their lights warm against the cool dark. Her place stood near the northern ridge, just beyond the communal gardens. A soft light glowed through the window, pale and steady, and for a moment, the sight almost eased the weight sitting in his chest.
But as he neared, the door opened.
She stepped out before he could even call her name — a white lab coat catching the moonlight, the faint blue trim unmistakable. Institute issue. Her hair was tied back neatly, a datapad tucked under one arm, and her boots made that distinct soft sound of someone used to moving quietly through sterile halls.
She stopped when she saw him. A small, surprised smile curved her lips. "Sico," she said. "You're out late."
He returned the faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "So are you."
Nora glanced down briefly at her coat, then back up. "I have to head to the Institute base for a few hours. The bio-labs are running an overnight analysis — genetic sequence testing for a new batch of synths. I promised Allie I'd help supervise."
Sico nodded slowly, studying her for a moment. She looked tired — not the kind of exhaustion that came from lack of sleep, but from the constant burden of being needed. It was the same exhaustion he saw in his own reflection most mornings.
He took a step closer, his voice softening. "Before you go… we need to talk."
Nora's expression shifted, the faint ease in her eyes giving way to the sharper awareness of someone who knew exactly what that tone meant. "Something happened?"
He hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "I was contacted this morning. Madison Li."
That made her pause. The datapad lowered slightly. "Li? She's still in the Brotherhood's ranks?"
"For now," Sico said. "But she's walking a tight line. She's been delaying Liberty Prime's activation — using every technical excuse she can find to buy us time."
Nora's brow furrowed, the scientist in her already thinking ten steps ahead. "How much time?"
"Two months. Maybe three," Sico replied. "She's holding them back by claiming they don't have a reliable power source. The agitator we took — the one that powers Sanctuary — that's her shield. She's using it to argue that Prime can't sustain itself long-term without catastrophic drain."
Nora's gaze flickered briefly toward the north, toward where the hidden reactor tunnels lay beneath the ridge. "That was the right call then," she murmured. "Without that power core, they can't bring the machine online."
"For now," Sico said. "But Maxson won't wait forever. If they find an alternative source — fusion batteries, pre-war vault reactors, anything — Liberty Prime will walk again. And when it does…"
Nora finished softly, "It won't stop at the Institute this time."
Sico nodded grimly. "He'll come for all of us."
For a moment, the only sound between them was the wind, threading through the leaves and the distant clank of metal from the armories below.
Then Sico said quietly, "That's why I need your help, Nora. More than ever."
She looked at him, her expression steady. "You have it. What do you need?"
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "The synths."
Her eyes flickered — just a small movement, but one that carried weight. "You want to send them into the field again."
"Yes," Sico said. "But not for open combat. I need them to pressure the Brotherhood — push them, provoke small-scale skirmishes along their occupied borders. Nothing too overt, nothing that exposes us directly. Just enough to keep them on edge."
Nora's voice was calm, but her tone carried a thread of concern. "You want to force Maxson's hand."
"Not force," Sico corrected. "Distract. Make them feel like they're already at war. If they're busy responding to phantom threats — synth incursions, missing patrols, supply raids — they won't have the luxury of focusing on Liberty Prime's energy systems. Madison's stalling, but she can only hold out if Maxson's attention is divided."
Nora crossed her arms, thinking. "You're asking me to escalate the tension between the Brotherhood and the Institute. That could turn the cold war into a real one."
Sico nodded. "That's the point."
Her jaw tightened slightly, not out of defiance but thought. "You realize what that means for the synths, don't you? For the ones I send?"
"I do," he said quietly. "And I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice."
For a long moment, Nora didn't answer. Her eyes drifted past him, toward the lights of Sanctuary in the distance — the warm, steady glow of a home she had helped build. The people she had healed. The synth child sleeping inside that house right now, the one who called her "Mother."
When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but firm. "They'll fight. They always do. But you know what the Brotherhood will call it — another 'machine uprising.' It'll harden their resolve."
Sico met her gaze. "Good. Let them believe what they want. Every ounce of arrogance they waste on chasing ghosts is another day this Republic breathes free."
That silenced them both for a heartbeat. Then Nora exhaled slowly, the frost of her breath visible in the cool air.
"I'll need authorization from the command net," she said at last. "And I'll have to coordinate with Ayo's Synth Retention Bureau — he's still paranoid about rogue units. But I can make it happen. I'll send a message to the teams in the old Mass Pike tunnels and the Cambridge ruins. They'll start moving within forty-eight hours."
"Make sure they stay untraceable," Sico said. "No Institute tags, no visible patterns. If the Brotherhood connects them to Sanctuary, it'll undo everything we've built."
"They won't," Nora said. "I'll scrub every identifier myself."
He nodded, relief threading faintly through the heaviness in his voice. "Thank you."
She studied him for a moment, the faintest flicker of worry softening her expression. "You've been carrying this alone for too long," she said quietly. "When was the last time you slept?"
Sico smirked faintly, though there was no humor in it. "Yesterday. Or the day before. Hard to tell."
"You'll burn out if you keep this pace," she said. "And then the Republic will lose its backbone."
"I can rest when Maxson's gone," Sico said simply.
She gave a small, weary smile. "You always say that."
"I mean it."
Nora's gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she said softly, "You trust Li?"
He hesitated. "Enough. She's risked everything to warn me. But if Maxson finds out she's the one delaying Prime…"
"She'll be executed," Nora finished quietly.
Sico nodded once. "That's why this plan has to work. If we keep the Brotherhood bleeding time, if we keep them fighting ghosts and chasing synths, Li survives — and we gain the months we need to prepare."
For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached out, resting a hand on his arm. It was a simple gesture, but one that grounded him — something human amid all the iron and fire that surrounded their lives.
"I'll take care of it," she said. "But promise me something, Sico — when the time comes, when the war truly starts, you won't throw everything away for victory. You'll remember why we built this place. Why we're fighting."
His eyes softened, the weight of her words cutting through the soldier's armor he wore too easily. "I'll remember," he said quietly. "You have my word."
Nora gave a faint nod. "Good. Then I should get going. The Institute's expecting me."
He stepped back slightly, allowing her to pass, though something in him hesitated — that instinct that always whispered that every goodbye might be the last in this world.
"Be careful down there," he said. "The Institute may be quiet, but quiet's where the knives are."
Her lips quirked faintly. "I could say the same for up here."
He smiled at that — a real one, brief but true. "Touché."
She turned, starting down the dirt path that led toward the northern transit entrance. The lab coat moved softly around her legs, the datapad's glow flickering against her wrist as she keyed in access codes.
Sico watched her until the night swallowed her silhouette. The faint hum of the relay platform lit the air for a second — then faded, leaving only the sound of the wind again.
He stood there for a long while, staring at the spot where she had been.
The Republic's defenses were strengthening. The factories were roaring. The synths would soon be in motion.
The pieces were moving.
But as the wind shifted and the faint rumble of thunder rolled across the horizon, Sico couldn't shake the feeling that the storm they were building might be one they couldn't fully control. Still, he turned back toward the heart of Sanctuary, the weight of command settling on his shoulders like an old, familiar coat.
________________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-