Chapter 13 “Sliced it like an orange. Try again.” Rosie kicked off her boots and stretched out. She shifted, trying to get some sleep but couldn’t. It would have been easy to set the alarm and let the system put her out for a few hours, but she wanted to be alert if Matt needed something. Instead Rosie occupied herself with the crates pulled from the hidden lab and penthouse. The first crate held the scientific equipment. A heavy microscope, a unit that could spin and vibrate test tubes, and glassware wrapped in soft towels. She began to make space in the small kitchen, in order to keep things tidy. The coffee pot had half a cup left in it, Rosie drank it and decided to make a fresh pot. Can’t be that hard, Rosie thought, after wondering if Janey knew how to make coffee. With the silver pot warming on the electric hot plate, she went back to the crates. The next two crates had been stuffed with vacuum sealed clothing, each labelled and mostly the same thing. Dark formal suits with a ballistic lining, two vivid red squares labelled cocktail dress, and a selection of jeans. Rosie tossed a suit on the bench and moved onto the next crate. She recognised the contents and removed to sidearms and compact smgs, finding the spare robot parts underneath. The set included another pair of legs and replacement three pronged arms. And the lethal looking claw and blade Janey had been outfitted with previously. The blade drew Rosie’s focus first. Running the length of the arm and ending in a harsh angle, the blade hinged at the elbow joint. A small burst of power from a micro fusion cell locked the arm straight. The triangular inner chain wound tight. The blade shot forward, pulling the serrated sections into place and locking with a clunk. The tip of the now doubled in length blade caught the edge of an empty crate, knocking it to the floor. Matt woke with a start at the clatter, quickly followed by the beeping hot plate and spitting coffee pot. Rosie dropped the blade, hurried to the beeping hot plate and shut it off. “Sorry.” Rosie apologised and sat next to Matt. “It’s fine.” Matt’s wince and sharp breathing suggested otherwise. “You popped a stitch.” Rosie saw the bandages growing redder. She fixed the stitch, changed the dressing and prepared an opiate drip. “I don’t need that just yet.” Matt lied and looked round the room. “Get me my pad, I’ll help you log this stuff.” He pointed to the silver crates. Rosie sat back to protest, but remembered how useless she’d felt while wounded. She found the leather bound pad in Matt’s footlocker. His simple canvas bed had been neatly made days ago. Matt opened it up and took the lined pad out, leaving pristine white drawing paper and brightly coloured pencils inside. “You want coffee?” Rosie tried to sound casual, like she hadn’t just made coffee for the first time. “Sure.” She poured them both a mug and went back to unpacking, trying to see when Matt tasted it. “Charlie said these had a ballistic weave.” Rosie held the oversized dull green fatigues up for Matt to see. “Shame they’re not black.” “I’ll dye them. Size?” Rosie went to grab a tape measure. “Check the collar.” She read out the lettering on the label instead. “Good, how many?” “Eight of them.” “Very good.” Rosie watched Matt take a sip of coffee. “How is it?” She deliberately started unpacking while she asked. “It’s fine.” Matt lied again. Rosie tasted the coffee and found it burnt and bitter. “What else did you find?” Rosie spent the next few hours going through the items they’d recovered. Matt wrote everything down and told her where to put it. He seemed impressed with the sidearms and compact smg’s, even if he could barely lift them. “See here.” Matt tapped the bolt and ejection port of the compact smg. “Ambidextrous design. Casings go straight down, that’s a nice touch.” “Brandon said we need to press more ammo.” Rosie tried to guess how to get that done. “Do we have a mould or something?.” “The polymer rifle case under my bench.” “The one filled with dirt?” Rosie’s curiosity piqued at the box she didn’t understand the purpose of. Matt put aside his writing pad and went for the drawing one, yelping in pain as he reached too far. Rosie darted over and sat next to him. “Say you need more bullets,” Matt sketched a simple diagram. “You make an impression with the bullet you have, then pour molten alloy into the mould.” Rosie felt uncommonly dim for not figuring it out. “What if you don’t have something to make a mould from?” “Well, I can carve something from wood.” Rosie leaned over as Matt started sketching again. “Or you can cast a solid shape and cut it down.” A quick drawing of a circle turned into a cog sparked an idea in Rosie’s mind. “I can build anything I want.” Rosie said to herself more than anyone else. She took the simple drawing, wanting to add to it. As she pulled from the back, the front pages leafed over. “Hey did you draw these?” Rosie had seen Matt sketch landscapes with burnt sticks on cardboard before, yet these were like pictures in a book. “Is that Paul and Brandon?” The first coloured pencil drawing showed Brandon losing at chess to Paul by a campfire. Paul holding his arms up in celebration. The next one showed Paul, soaking wet and standing in a puddle. Charlie had been drawn laughing, a purple flower behind her ear. “He tried to pick a flower and fell in a river.” Matt clarified the inspiration for the drawing. Rosie smiled and turned the page. “Is that...” Rosie trailed off before asking another obvious question. A drawing of her, curled under a blanket, arm bandaged and staring up. “That’s the night you saw the stars.” Rosie remembered, she’d always remember that. Yet the drawing captured her wide eyed wonder from the outside. “It’s beautiful.” Rosie almost whispered. Matt grinned and ripped the page out in one confident motion. “Keep it.” “Thank you.” As Rosie turned the page she caught a glimpse of the unfinished drawing underneath. Her again, judging by the eyes and jawline. Only this time dressed in black and carrying a suppressed carbine. “That one isn’t finished.” Matt closed the drawing pad, almost embarrassed, although Rosie didn’t see why. “What’s going on in here?” Charlie stood at the door, hands on her hips. She picked up on something, even if Rosie didn’t. “I popped a stitch, that’s all.” Matt tried to sit up straight. “Right well boss wants us topside, Rosie why don't you send them down and they can bring Matt up.” Charlie sent Rosie up and out. Outside, Rosie found Paul and Brandon pacing in and around the large map she’d laid out. By now the mounds of dirt had been refined. The rocks showing roads shaped neatly, and the coffee mugs that showed potential Vaults reduced to six. “Charlie wants you to bring Matt up.” Rosie felt instantly reminded of the weeks both of them had spent carrying her up into the sun while injured. “While we’re doing that, start a fire.” Brandon kept his instruction vague and headed in. “I can do that.” Rosie tried to sound sure. As Paul passed her, he slipped his metal lighter into her hand and winked. “Plastic box under the stairs.” He whispered. A few minutes later Rosie had stacked the wood correctly and tried to light the thinnest branch she could find. She realised instantly it wouldn’t work, snapping it in half and throwing it in the unlit fire. Too big, she thought before getting an idea, not hot enough. “Janey?” “Good evening Admin Rosie, how may I assist you?” The robot clanked round from her chosen position at the front of the lighthouse. “Can you light that fire?” Rosie stayed kneeling as a beam of red light shot from the centre of the robotic face, instantly igniting the wood. “Thank you Janey.” “You are welcome. I will return to my position.” The robot turned and began to walk away. “Wait!” Rosie blurted out before thinking. “You don’t have to, you can do whatever you want.” “I want to ensure the safety of Principal Charlie. The most efficient way to do that is to monitor the perimeter.” The synthesized voice relayed the machine’s primary drives, determined by the protocol Rosie chose. She could have changed it, but Rosie hesitated just long enough for the robot to walk away. Charlie rattled through the door, carrying a canvas and metal bed under one arm, and a pile of blankets under the other. Rosie jumped up to help her, laying out the bed for Matt. Paul and Brandon followed, each supporting a pained Matt. They sat him down and Rosie checked him over, seeing a similar relief to being outside that she had. “Rosie, send your pet downstairs, there’s a trunk and a bag that need to be brought up.” She did as Brandon instructed. “Now, to new business.” Brandon stood while the others sat round the fire. “In the morning Paul and I will head to the office. Rosie can hold the watch.” Rosie glanced over at Charlie, she seemed fine with trusting Rosie. Matt just seemed frustrated and disappointed with himself. “Obviously Matt can’t make the meet with Jones’s people, so I’m sending Rosie.” Brandon had made his decision, disappointing Matt further, and bringing concern to Charlie’s face. “That’s a mistake.” Charlie held up a hand to stop Rosie’s protest. “It’s not that she can’t handle it, but we might need her skills for something more than a meet and greet. I’ll run it.” Brandon stood and smiled, then he tossed a small white ball to Charlie. Instinctively she reached out with her right arm, yelping in pain, and missing the ball entirely. “That was a cheap trick.” “I have an idea.” Rosie suggested a plan everyone liked even less, all except Brandon. “Well that’s settled.” Brandon and Rosie shared a smile that no one else did. “Any other new business?” “Boss, I’ve got something.” Matt pulled a small, metal box from his thigh pocket. “Rosie, this is for you.” She took the gift, sharing Matt's slightly awkward expression. Rosie hinged open the box, finding a flat copper circle, patterned with a winged sword and cogs. “Thank you.” Rosie took the copper coloured circle from the box, trying to read the writing. “It’s a vita salvus, an old Recon tradition. It’s cast from the bullet that... you give that to a sworn knight and they are honour bound to help you.” Rosie didn’t understand, but saw that it meant a great deal to those around her. “It’s beautiful, thank you.” Rosie held Matt’s hand. “Any more business?” Brandon asked. No one had anything else. “Good. Janey?” The feminine form clanked out of the lighthouse and into the sun. A metal bucket in one hand, an oblong leather case in the other and a round bag slung over one shoulder. Paul got to his feet taking the bucket and bag. “No, I don’t believe it!” Rosie watched Paul excitedly pulling thin black rods with silver, angled heads from the bag. “It’s a full set!” “This is worse than the kitchen knives.” Charlie lost interest almost immediately. “Found them in my room. Looks like someone was planning on improving their short game while they waited out the apocalypse.” Brandon seemed almost as excited. “What are they?” Rosie asked as she examined one. “Golf clubs.” Brandon took the metal bucket and tipped out a dozen of the white balls. “High end clubs too. Titanium heads, carbon fibre shafts.” Paul handed one to Matt, who seemed equally impressed. “That wasn’t all I found.” Brandon took the oblong case and laid it in front of Charlie. “Open it.” The catches snapped open as Charlie pressed them. It took effort to hinge open the lid. “Son of a bitch!” The top of the case held a row of glass bottles, fitted tightly. Along the bottom were a selection of glasses in all different shapes. Taking pride of place in the centre, sat a silver canister. Charlie looked up at Brandon. “Thanks Boss.” “If you want to thank me, mix me a drink.” Charlie set to work pouring from various bottles into a silver canister. Only stopping to snatch a cigar from Matt and chastise Brandon for giving it to him. “Rosie shake this.” She started to, then gave it to Janey. The mechanical arms shook the canister into a blur as Charlie hid her amusement. Rosie unscrewed the cap and poured the liquid into the glasses Charlie picked. “Atom Bombs.” Charlie smiled as Rosie handed them out. “Because it’ll blow you away.” She saved Rosie the trouble of asking. “Gentlemen, ladies...” Brandon held up his glass of red liquid. “We walked into the fire last night. And more importantly we walked out again. To another day on this side of the grass.” “This side of grass.” The others repeated Brandon’s words and drank. Rosie did the same, instantly spluttering as the strong drink burnt her throat. “I like being on this side of the grass.” Rosie realised she’d said something stupid as Charlie’s laugh escaped, bringing more laughter with it. Rosie sat and watched as Brandon cut a hole in the ground and began tapping ball after ball towards it. Paul balanced a ball on a small pin and hit it with the largest club. A loud thwack sent the dimpled ball out over the lakebed. “That’s gotta be two hundred yards, easy.” Paul seemed pleased with his shot. “The projectile travelled one hundred and sixty eight yards.” Janey’s neutral tone brought a glare from Paul and outright laughter from Charlie. Paul hit another ball, the thwack instantly followed by Janey again. “One hundred and fifty four yards.” “Yes, thank you Janey.” The advanced sensors could track an object in flight, but missed Paul’s sarcasm. “You are most welcome.” “I’m really starting to like her. She mixes drinks, calls you out on your bullshit.” Charlie seemed brighter than Rosie had seen her in a week. “Rosie, take a whack.” Paul beckoned Rosie over, offering her the large club. “Don’t do it Rosie, you’ll end up addicted to that stupid game like these fools.” Charlie freshened her drink and sat back in her chair. “Pay no attention to those without talent or patience.” Paul dismissed Charlie with mock insults and set up a ball for Rosie. “Now, shoulders square, tight grip, and firm stance.” Rosie tried to follow the instructions, but became more interested in the club itself. All the weight came from the shaped titanium head, with the carbon fibre shaft adding no weight at all. Paul stepped back and Rosie lined up the club. She swung in back and forth, catching the ball at an angle, sending it off to the left. “Forty eight yards.” “Sliced it like an orange. Try again.” Paul set up another ball. “It takes years to master, years.” Rosie took a deep breath and swung, catching the ball in the centre of the flat club face. “Fuck me.” “One hundred and ninety six yards.” “That’s pretty good right?” Rosie asked as Paul’s face dropped. “Yeah, nearly two hundred yards is pretty good. Hit another.” Rosie set up a ball herself this time, balancing it on the little red stick. As she lined up for another swing Rosie wondered if Janey’s subroutine for measuring distance had been added after. She swung the club back when an idea popped into her head. “It’s a data point.” Rosie turned and knocked over the bag of other clubs, causing a rattling clatter. “Janey, with me.” Brandon followed her, seeing the idea take root. “Do you know what this is?” Rosie asked Janey as the complex lens assembly whirred, taking in the map she’d made. “It is a representation of the immediate topography. It has a high degree of accuracy.” Rosie took that as a compliment. “Show our current location.” Janey projected a thin beam of red light from the powerful cranial laser. “Good, now show your point of origin.” The beam tracked along the shaped ground to the box that represented The Grand. “Distance?” “Fifty three point seven miles.” “And what was our flight time?” “Eight minutes forty three seconds.” “Extrapolate other possible destinations and show me.” Janey stood motionless for a moment, then bent at an odd angle. The red light beam began to rotate, getting quicker until it became a perfect circle of red. Rosie knelt and looked over the map. “He wanted to wait out the apocalypse, that’s what this place is.” “Which means he might have to get here in a hurry.” Brandon grasped Rosie’s thinking. “And I’m guessing if he had somewhere else to go, like a Vault, that’d have to be pretty close too.” Rosie focused on the details inside the red circle. “Smart Rosie, very smart.” The number of possible sites for Vault X had gone from six, to three. “All that planning and he never made it.” Rosie felt a pang of sadness for the long dead Burton Blake. Rosie spent the evening being taught the finer points of Golf. She found the long hits satisfying, and the shorter shots maddening. All while Charlie mixed drink after drink with Janey’s help. At Paul’s request Rosie clicked on the radio, shunting the signal through Janey’s more powerful speakers. Paul sang along, badly, and mainly to annoy Charlie. They retired early, taking Matt down the cellar for some well needed rest.