Chapter 12 Building trust “Rosie.” Charlie gently shook her awake. She got up quickly, driven by the anxiety of waking up underground. “You’ve got a patient.” Charlie didn’t use that word lightly. Rosie checked Matt over. “Bleeding has stopped, pulse and bp are stable.” “Good, let him rest. Brandon’s waiting on you up top.” Charlie went back to sleep on the couch. Rosie felt glad to be trusted with Matt’s care. She changed into a clean set of black fatigues and went outside. “Quite a landing.” Brandon seemed amused. In the morning sun the angle of the Velocibird looked worse than she remembered. One of the landing skids had dug into the soft ground, pulling the pointed nose down too. “Still, not bad for first attempt.” “I’ll move it.” Rosie saw an opportunity to justify her decision to bring a killer robot home. “Or I can have Janey do it, it’s designed to have her interface with the autopilot.” She looked around for the feminine black armoured shape. “It, she, is walking the perimeter.” Brandon tried to keep the concern from his voice. Rosie picked up on it. “She’s in pristine condition, like new. I ran diagnostics.” “And it’s connected to...the device, like the remote guns?” Brandon had seemed sceptical of those too, at first. “Yes.” Rosie brought up the remote override system inside her eyes. The view through the machine’s optical input showed trees and sunlight. “I put a verbal shutdown command in place.” “Ok, you can keep her, but you’re—” “Going to feed and walk her.” Brandon laughed “Charlie made the same joke. I don’t get it.” Rosie’s answer brought more laughter. The Velo shook free from the rough landing. Rosie banked gently, hovering above the canopy till she felt Brandon tap her shoulder. “On your three.” Rosie turned on the spot by fettling the vectored engines. “Got it, landing.” The downdraft kicked up leaves as they touched down in the nearby clearing. “Not bad for your second fight.” Brandon had a light tone, yet Rosie heard the question. “It taught me to fly when I connected to it.” Saying it out made it seem strange, it’d seemed routine a few hours ago. “Lucky for us.” Rosie followed Brandon as he walked round the sleek, black, aircraft. “Can you pull the cores?” “I can...” Rosie understood Brandon’s position as commander, and knew that he made decisions for them all, but she didn’t understand disabling the Velo. “Why though?” “We don’t want some ambitious wastrel taking it for a spin.” “I’d just shut it down remotely.” Rosie checked she could actually do that. “I think I can fly it remotely too.” Brandon tried to hide the shock on his face, he didn’t. Rosie had always enjoyed being the smartest person in the room, yet seeing the reaction made her feel odd, out of place somehow. Brandon took a few empty tin cans and hung them from string on a branch. Rosie took one of the two tone sidearms from Brandon's pack. Precisely made from black and green polymer. Chambered to fire the same rounds as the compact submachine gun. “In your own time…” Rosie took her stance, ready to hit the relatively easy targets. “Cut the string.” Brandon leant against a tree, pleased with his trick. A gentle breeze pushed the hanging cans, twisting and pulling the string. Her first shot missed. Despite the ear piercing bang and lick of flame, the pistol’s design produced little recoil. “How do you feel about last night?” Brandon asked as she fixed her stance. “Fine.” Rosie fired twice in quick succession, sending two cans to the ground. “Charlie told me one of them put his hands on you.” Rosie pushed the feeling from her mind and aimed. “Yeah, well he got what he deserved.” Rosie fired again, hitting a tin can and putting a hole right through it. “I don’t doubt it.” Brandon made subtle adjustments to her stance. “Seeing the slaves, how did it make you feel?” “Angry.” Rosie felt her grip tighten before she fired and missed completely. She sat on edge of the Velo cabin, the anger put on hold stirring again. “I saw a group of those things, ghouls, with the red masks.” Rosie felt a tightening in her chest as fear undercut the anger. “What did you think when you saw them?” Brandon softened his tone. “I wanted to kill them. All of them.” Rosie stared down at her boots, kicking at the dirt. She couldn’t meet Brandon’s eyes. She sat on the edge of the Velo cabin, trying to be calm. Brandon sat next to her, putting a comforting arm around her tense shoulders. “When the Brotherhood first arrived here, we wanted the same thing. We spent months attacking slavers and raider camps, cut a bloody swathe from one end of the valley to another. All it did was make things worse. The Brotherhood gave the raiders a common enemy, disparate factions became a unified force. They got brazen, started moving closer to the towns and before long they occupied one. And of course, we went after them. Damn near destroyed that place to save it.” Rosie saw Brandon get lost for a moment in a painful memory. “The point is that just killing isn’t enough. You have to look at the big picture.” Rosie began to understand. “You’re saying pick your battles.” “No, pick your targets. Last night we took out their leader, that means people are going to try and take his place. Now with the right intel we can help someone into that spot, or we can keep them from it. We can frame one by attacking a supply line and planting the goods on another. We can turn them against themselves.” “Smart.” Rosie got a sense of the bigger picture. “Matthew nearly died last night trying to save a few lives. You crippled their operation, stopping the need to save those lives.” “I understand.” Rosie found a strange sense of calm in the idea of hurting those that preyed on others. Even if it meant doing it by proxy. “Help me with these casings, we’ll start pressing our own ammo. I dread to think what five seven rounds cost.” Brandon crouched and started picking up the spent bullet casings. Rosie helped while thinking up ways to craft ammo. “Paging Doctor Powell.” The internal comm made it seem like Charlie could be walking with them. “Your patient is awake.” “Copy, inbound.” Rosie turned to Brandon. “Matt’s awake.” She saw the relief in Brandon’s face. Inside they found Matt sitting on the couch, pale, pained, but smiling. “Morning Boss. What are your orders?” Matt looked as if he could barely stand, and desperate not to appear like that. “Light duties for a month.” Brandon turned to Charlie. “Both of you.” Charlie scowled while Matt looked disappointed in himself. Rosie sat next to Matt and started checking him over. “I’m fine.” Matt winced as Rosie changed his bandages. “Thanks to her.” Charlie had a sharp tone, correcting Matt’s dismissive remark. “Rosie,” Matt waited till she made eye contact and then took her hand. “Thank you.” She saw a hint of the fear from the night before. “I had a lot of help.” Rosie usually liked to take credit for things, but in this case she just wanted to forget it ever happened. “But you’re welcome.” “Breakfast, Rosie’s favourite.” Paul emerged from below, set down the plate of pancakes. He served Rosie first, shaking his head at the amount of syrup she used. “No solids kiddo.” Charlie tried to hide the implication that Matt might have to be sedated again as Paul took the pancakes away and gave him coffee. Everyone except Matt ate the hot pancakes made from century old powder. Rosie heard the faint clanking but no one else seemed to. “Good morning.” The synthesized voice came at the exact same moment as the door swung open and Janey clanked in. Matt spat coffee from his mouth in shock, disbelief in his eyes. “That thing’s fucking real?!” “It’s ok, she’s reprogrammed.” Rosie saw that didn’t help the man who grew up without any technology. “She’s friendly.” “I have completed my patrol for this cycle and found no sign of human life. I did see a mutated deer and have flagged the image in my memory bank. Matthew, scans indicate a high probability of complete recovery. This is a preferable outcome.” “She likes you.” Brandon tried to break the tension with a joke that fell flat. “When I was a kid…” Rosie hardly mentioned the Vault, doing saw drew attention. “They used to tell us this story, over and over. Hank and Gina got tired of their duties so they built a robot from scrap parts. The robot did their duties for them, made their food, swept up, did everything. The lazy boy and girl got fat. The more the bot did for them, the smarter it got, and fatter they got.” Rosie shook her head, cursing the Vault and everyone still in it. Almost everyone. “One night the bot crept in while they slept.” She could see the graphic drawing projected on the steel wall. “It killed the lazy boy and girl, used their blood to fuel it’s engine, their fat to grease it’s gears. Then it upgraded itself to something that looked exactly like Janey.” Rosie took a mouthful of coffee to try and wash the lump from her throat. “I used to have nightmares about it. For years. I didn’t think they were real either.” Paul brought her more pancakes and let his hand linger on her shoulder. “Admin Rosie, the nutritional value of your food is minimal and will result in suboptimal efficiency.” Paul’s laugh finally broke the tension. Although Matt looked too pained to care. “We’ll take the day.” Brandon said as he finished his coffee. “Paul, Charlie if you want to head downstairs.” “Not a chance.” Charlie answered without needing to check with Paul. “Good, unpack these crates. Matthew, get some sleep, that’s an order.” Matt looked at the floor, frustrated already. "We’ll rv topside at eighteen hundred for cocktails. Rosie, get your pet to carry those bags and suit up." Brandon led Rosie across the dried lakebed to the south of the lighthouse. Janey clanked behind, carrying packs and struggling on the irregular surface. "Keep an eye out for dark rocks." “Like this?” Rosie kicked free a shiny black chunk of rock with her heel. “That’ll do.” Brandon picked it up and ran his thumb along it. “It’ll keep Matt occupied. Can I ask you a favour?” Brandon changed the subject as they followed the widening stream. “I didn’t think you had to ask for favours.” Rosie smiled, not quite used to being asked. “Well, technically I don’t, but this is personal.” “Alright.” “I’m guessing that when you were in the…” Brandon trailed off, trying to find the right words. “In your previous life, if you left things in a mess there’d be a punishment.” “Yeah.” Rosie kept her answer short. “So when you do make a mess it feels like a finger in the eye to those bastards.” Rosie didn’t fully understand that till she heard it. “Yeah.” “Matthew, in his old life they’d beat him if he left a mess.” Brandon picked up another black rock. “Must be nearly fifteen years ago now, and he still can’t sleep if things aren’t neat.” “Shit.” Rosie had noticed Matt’s fastidiousness, everything arranged in a proper order, neat rows and descending sizes. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologise.” Brandon stopped and turned to her. “It’s no more your fault than it is Matthew’s. But for me, please, tidy up.” Brandon clapped her on the shoulder, smiling. Rosie wondered how much of her behaviour she wasn’t fully aware of. Selfish, she thought, hearing the word in John’s voice. The stream grew wider, faster, winding into the distance as the rocky ground sloped away. Brandon lay flat, Rosie copied. The lining within the stealth suit moulded around the lumps and bumps. Between that and her black fatigues it felt almost comfortable. “Dial in.” Rosie followed the same advice Matt would give her before rifle practice. She began to breathe deeply, slowing her heart rate, and ranging the view. “Six hundred metres to the treeline, twelve to the ruins, sixteen to the road. Low east wind.” She rounded off the figures in her eyes. “They do not make ‘em like this any more.” Brandon aimed the antique sniper rifle for a moment and handed it to Rosie. She slipped her hand round the wooden grip and pulled the stock in tight. Brandon flicked down the bipod and wedged it with rocks. “At your ten o’clock, see the tree on it’s own?” Rosie shifted her weight to pivot the rifle. “Got it.” “Prune a branch, you’ve got six shots.” The bolt snapped as the rifle kicked, splintering wood in the distance. Rosie fired twice more, splitting the branch and dropping it to the ground. “Good.” Brandon turned. “Now fetch. And if I see you, I’ll let you know.” Rosie smiled and took off her black fatigues and boots. “If you see me.” Rosie pulled the hood up and slid the face plates into place. Rosie quickened her pace to reach the treeline on the opposite bank. The stealth suit clung to her form, making barely a sound, and less friction. An improved sense of balance gave her confidence. She remembered how it used to feel to be on uneven ground after a lifetime of flat steel. It almost seemed like that could have been someone else. Weaving and bounding from shadow to shadow brought Rosie into Brandon’s potential view. She felt an electric sensation against her skin as the stealth field engaged. Each step spiked the field stability meter. Anything above a creep collapsed the field like a burnt log in the fire. Two shots rang out, striking trees in front and behind her. Not close enough for her to have been spotted, more a nudge to keep moving. Rosie bolted, shots landing in her tracks as she slid into a dense patch of trees. Creeping with the stealth field up got her to within a few feet of the lone tree, so close she could see the branch. Rosie knew Brandon would be sighted on it, poised to fire. She found her footing, twisting divots into the ground to push off from. With a deep breath of filtered air, Rosie darted across the few feet of open ground. Throwing herself into a cartwheel to pluck the branch from the ground. She whirled into cover behind the lone tree as the air cracked and rounds embedded themselves into thick wood. Rosie let out a laugh, the almost playful nature of the dangerous game amused her. The branch felt heavier than she’d imagined. Rosie needed a distraction to get back to the treeline, and had just the right idea. She accessed Janey’s comm channel and optical feed, seeing Brandon motionless. “Too slow.” Brandon turned, hearing Rosie’s voice from the machine. A quick smile flashed across his as he realised and turned back to the scope. She gripped the branch with both hands and hurled it overhead, slipping into the dreamlike state as it left her hands. A few paces put her ahead of the tumbling branch and well clear of rounds in the air. Time snapped back while shots rang out. The momentum of the branch almost pulled her off balance, she countered it by twirling and broke into a full speed sprint. The faster she moved, the freer Rosie felt. The branch clattered on stone as Rosie tossed it at Brandon’s side. “That’s a neat trick.” Brandon gestured towards Janey as he stood. “That was nothing.” Rosie took her time opening the visor to hide her smile at the things she’d seen in Janey’s code. “Yeah, I guess they don’t make ‘em like her any more either. That however…” Brandon pointed down at the fifty calibre sniper rifle. A solid block of milled steel formed the body, it looked like it had been part of an engine block. A six sided, long barrel ended in a flat, v shaped muzzle break. Both of which looked to have been salvaged from the wastes, as did the stock and pistol grip. Rosie slid into position, seeing the rifle had no magazine or ejection port. Only the large rounds clipped to the side. She pulled the bolt back and found it removed completely. “It’s designed to—” Rosie cut Brandon off and looked at the groves and latches in the precision workings of the bolt. “So you can abandon the weapon, everything else can be replaced. Smart.” “Never leave them anything that can hurt you.” “The blue car.” Rosie sighted in on the vehicle that hadn't moved in a century. “Got it.” At sixteen hundred meters Rosie had never taken a shot this far. “Break the glass. Don’t scratch the paint.” An exhale turned into a sigh of frustration. Rosie aimed up from the glinting car in the scope, lining up with the system projected dot above the horizon. She fired. Being behind the rifle as it let rip felt preferable to the last time it had been fired over head, but not by much. The kick shoved Rosie back, shuddering through her. Dust swept back around her and in the distance, glass shattered. “Hit. Now hit the tire.” The spent casing sprang free of the bolt as Rosie pulled it clear. The force of pushing onto a fresh round snapped the latches to it and Rosie slid it into the open breach. Another body shuddering kick sent a round hurtling down range. A cloud of dust sprung from in front of the car as the round ricocheted. “Hit.” “The road sign.” Brandon named a target and Rosie started to look for it in the scope. “Hold. Movement, ten o’clock low. Feral.” From the ruins Rosie watched a shambling wretch of a creature. She tried to think of the friendlier ghouls, it didn’t stop her disgust. “Green on target.” Rosie had a kill shot. “Hold. If you see one feral, there’s more you can’t.” A few moments of silence proved him right as three more figures ambled towards the blue car. “Engine core’s cracked, it’s leaking rads and drawing them out.” “On target.” The figures bunched up as the radiation drew them in. “Negative. We’re done here.” “I could have made that shot.” Rosie piped up as they walked back. “I don’t doubt it.” Brandon seemed amused. “But…” He prompted her to find the answer. “It wasn’t worth the risk of blowing up the car. Too loud.” “Correct. Don’t worry I’m more than happy you can hold the watch while our resident snipers are at half speed.” Rosie felt pleased to be trusted. They made it back to the lighthouse in the afternoon. Rosie headed straight in to check on her patient, finding Matt asleep. “You should rest while he’s out.” Charlie stirred from the opposite couch, wincing and holding her ribs. “Vitals are good.” Rosie slumped into the comfy seating. “You should do the same, downstairs I mean.” “You know, I’m going to do exactly that.” Charlie must have been in more pain than she let on.