Chapter 15 “Forty two days.” Rosie settled into her new routine over the next week. Her nights were spent on watch. The isolated lighthouse, and the Assaultron walking the perimeter, gave Rosie time. She would read, sketch, and tinker with her projects. Once the sun came up Rosie would rope down through the round lighthouse, getting bolder each day, diving head first or descending silently. She would check on Matt first thing. His condition improved daily, physically at least. Matt’s frustration only grew, even as he regained some of his strength. Rosie would then sleep outside in the shade, feeling the sun as she woke always brought a smile to her face. In the afternoon she would exercise. Running along the lakebed or treeline and being guided in her poses by Charlie. Between them, Charlie and Rosie would help Matt up the stairs, threatening to make Janey do it to motivate him. The three would sit out and watch the sunset while eating. Without Paul, and with Matt injured, most meals were the self heating pre-war pouches that no one really liked. Rosie would spend her evenings at the workbenches. The pointless drudgery of her time in the repair shop replaced with the excitement of creativity and discovery. She felt like the detective from her book as she analysed anything she could find under the microscope. The tightly woven fibres that made the fatigues bulletproof. The marks left on steel that matched tools. And to her excitement, the secret behind the always sharp Cosmic knives. While the metal felt smooth to the touch, under magnification the smoke like texture were revealed as sharp crests. Even if one lost an edge, there’d still be sharp ridges. Her only disappointment came from not being able to work the heat absorbing alloy. Rosie couldn’t even begin to understand the science behind it, she had only started to get to grips with casting stainless steel. The simple box of dirt that Rosie dismissed proved an invaluable tool. Especially when combined with the precise control of a high powered laser. To start with Rosie used direct control over Janey to send her to the personal Vault below. However Rosie soon wrote simple subroutines to get Janey to clear shelves and cut away steel piping and sections of wall. The bot would work autonomously, neatly restacking and organising with precision. The clanking and rattling would echo up the stairs as Janey returned with crates of laser cut steel. The induction forge would liquefy the steel into bright orange that filled the ceramic crucible. Then Rosie would pour the molten steel into the cast with tongs, leaving it to cool overnight. Her first project had been a dozen steel cylinders. She shook the first one free of the dirt around it, surprised at the weight and sheen, and handed it to Janey. Rosie slowly powered up the laser as Janey posed at an odd angle, sending the beam straight down and cutting a column from the solid cylinder. The thinner column quickly became a tight spiral which neatly slid down the larger cylinder. The laser even proved capable of welding covers on either end, and boring a hole straight through, creating a suppressor. Now for the interesting part, Rosie thought to herself. She accessed Janey’s system, highlighted her commands from the last hour and said a single word. “Repeat.” “Confirmed.” Rosie stepped back as Janey produced an identical suppressor in half the time. Rosie left the testing for Matt. Knowing a chance to shoot the advanced sniper rifle, compact smgs and two tone pistols would make a short walk more tempting. With the night fallen, Rosie would ascend the rope with increasing ease. There she held the watch overnight. Her mind thinking of the next project, rather than worrying about John. The first break from the routine came a few days later. Paul drudged through the door into the cellar as Rosie worked, dumping gear with every step. He all but collapsed onto the couch, exhausted and grateful to be home. Rosie left Janey pressing ammo and poured the coffee she’d made. “Thank you.” Paul seemed pleased, till he tried it. “Heard your op went well.” “It was pretty simple.” Rosie didn’t feel like being praised for hiding in a ruin. “No such thing as a simple op.” Paul sounded like he spoke from experience. “Hand me my pack would you.” Rosie picked up the civilian gear Paul had dumped. She set the scuffed polymer armour aside and gave Paul his pack. He rummaged through the backpack and produced a chrome lighter with a hinged lid. “I got you this to give to Charlie, it’s her birthday next week.” “Wait, Charlie’s having a baby?!” Rosie felt confused. “What, no, why would you think…” Paul trailed off and Rosie saw a look she hadn’t seen in weeks, a look of pity. “Don’t worry about it. Looks like you taught Janey a few new tricks.” Paul changed the subject. Rosie went with it, she hadn’t missed the pitying looks. “I taught her to press ammo, amongst other things.” “Think she could learn to make coffee?” Paul smiled and took another sip of the coffee Rosie made. “I don’t see why not, although I think you better show her.” Rosie shared Paul’s amusement, and liked that he understood Janey couldn’t hurt them. “Janey?” Paul called out. The mechanical head turned backwards, the arms still pressing bullets into a magazine. “Want to help me out?” “Of course.” Janey stood from the bench, turning the torso and feet, then clanking along the stone floor. “Boss is topside, he’ll want to see you.” Paul stood and began reeling off his method of making coffee. Rosie found Brandon pacing around the map, pointing at the new additions with a golf club. Charlie sat while Matt stood, despite the discomfort everyone saw but no one acknowledged. “Here she is. Fine work on your op.” Rosie didn’t want praise, yet coming from Brandon meant it carried weight. “What’s your next move?” The question and phrasing caught Rosie off guard. She stepped over to the line of spent shotgun shells that represented the train. “We need to get the fuel here.” Rosie took longer than she needed as she checked the Velo data remotely. “We should be able to fly them back four at a time.” “What’s your plan?” Brandon kept his face and tone neutral. “Drop nearby, sweep and hold the area. Then load up and fly out.” Rosie felt like she’d given a solid answer. It still felt strange to seek someone else's approval. Brandon’s face remained still as he glanced to Charlie. Rosie’s need for approval grew, until Charlie nodded and Brandon smiled. “Good. You and I will leave in the morning.” It took the better part of the day to reach the abandoned train. Rosie and Brandon spent much of the time casually walking and talking, unlike the first time they’d travelled together. None of this felt like a test. Rosie slipped ahead at Brandon’s instruction, stepping lightly along the twisted track and weaving through the strewn containers. Rosie swept forward, suppressed carbine levelled, with Brandon covering her. After sweeping the length of the train and the treeline, Rosie followed Brandon up the ladder and into the engine cab. “You remember the last time we were here?” Brandon asked. Rosie did, the last time she saw John. “Won’t be long till you see him properly.” Brandon read her face. “Forty three days.” Rosie clung to the idea that John would stick to the plan and return to the Vault. Brandon’s forced smile suggested it might not be that simple. He probably thinks I’m still trapped down there, she thought. That brought relief to be outside, cut with contempt for being left there in the first place. “Did you bring coffee?” Brandon knew she had, he was asking if she made it. That made her smile. Rosie pulled the flask out of her pack when something in it caught her eye. At first she wondered if it’d been a loathsome practical joke, slipping rocks into her pack when she wasn’t looking. Then she remembered the sniper lesson and that she’d meant to give them to Matt. Seems fair, Rosie thought. Maybe the extra weight from the shiny black rocks would remind her to be more considerate of others. “Janey made it, Paul taught her.” Rosie passed Brandon the plastic cup from the top of the flask. He shook his head and laughed, almost dismissive, until he tasted it. “That is a fine cup of coffee.” He passed the cup back to Rosie. “When John...gets back, have you thought about what the two of you will do?” Brandon tried to sound neutral, but Rosie saw the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Obviously he’s welcome to join us at the lighthouse.” “I try not to think about it.” Rosie stared out of the door, watching the setting sun and searching for an answer that felt good. “I’m going to see what John wants to do.” That sounds right, she thought. “Things are going to be better.” I’m going to be better. “Whatever happens I’ll be there if you need me.” “I know that. So do the others.” Rosie knew that too, it still felt good to hear. Under the fallen night Rosie opened up the first of the military containers. Drums of high octane jet fuel stacked double, and filling the container. Brandon called in to Charlie giving Rosie time to work out how much the haul of defunct fuel would be worth. “So we follow them when they pick up this stuff?” Rosie tried to keep the conflict from her voice as they made another sweep. “Are you asking me or telling me?” Brandon didn’t wait for an answer. “Weigh your options. Let's say we follow them, safe bet they’re headed right to a chem lab. There could be fifty men waiting, and you’ve been walking all day. And that’s assuming you don’t lose them or get spotted.” “They wouldn’t spot me.” Rosie had learned to be a shadow, even without her stealth suit. “Never assume your plan will work.” Brandon stopped and made eye contact to underline the lesson. “Plus you’ll have blown the cover.” “What about a tracker then?” Rosie corrected herself. “Same problem, they find it and we’re blown. “And?” This time Brandon waited. “They could lead us into an ambush.” Rosie took a minute to think, then stopped as it occurred to her. “We get them to take us.” “Correct.” Brandon seemed pleased with her answer. “Lots of plays we could run. A Good Samaritan, we attack them and leave one or more wounded. ‘Lucky’ for them a certain someone with medical skills is nearby. Not Charlie’s favourite. We could run a fire sale, turn up with four drums instead of two, then begrudgingly offer to help carry them. Or the Headmaster’s Office, we give them dirty fuel then let them summon us for an explanation.” “We make them think it was their idea to do what we want.” Rosie understood the nature of the game. She’d used the same tactic to escape “‘The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy.’ It’s from a book.” “Why Jones?” Rosie asked, hoping to steer the conversation. “Jones is just another target, but there’s something different about him. He’s cautious, no one has dealt with him directly in years. That tells us something.” Brandon waited for an answer. “Tells us he’s smart.” Rosie saw that wasn’t the right answer. “Which makes him dangerous.” “Right. You could send a thousand men to look and not find him, or…” “You can lure him out.” Rosie got that right first time. “What about the Red Hand?” Rosie tried to keep the hate from her voice. She avoided calling them Filth, knowing Brandon didn’t like that kind of talk. “Tough nut to crack that one. They’re all ghouls, they’re all masked. No one knows much about them and they don’t work with anyone they haven’t known for decades.” “I know when they’ll be at The Grand.” This time the hate came through in her voice. “Paul told me they didn’t make it this week, maybe our evening there did more damage than we thought.” Brandon saw the surprise on Rosie’s face. “You didn’t think we’d waste a crack at them did you. Not after what they did to my family.” “What did they do to your family?” Rosie didn’t need another reason to despise them, but it wouldn't hurt. Brandon stopped and put both hands on Rosie’s shoulders. “They put a collar on one of them.” Rosie understood and tears began to well in her eyes. Brandon embraced her tightly, he smelt of cigar smoke. “You know what family means, it means that wherever you are if you need us we’ll be there.” Rosie’s tears began to fall. After a moment they started walking the treeline again. “It also means that anyone who hurts you dies bloody. When the time is right Rosie, you’ll make them pay. And at the same time, make life round here a little better.” She liked the first part a great deal more than the second. The Velocibird hovered over the clearing with a quiet hum and forceful downdraft. Janey detached, unfolding her limbs in the air before landing a few feet from Rosie. The landing process looked all the more impressive from the ground. “Good evening Admin Rosie. Please stand well clear.” The Velo touched down in the clearing, the matte black and angular body almost merged into the night. Red light spilled from the cockpit as Paul tumbled out and threw up. Brandon approached, offering him water. “Least you weren’t in your armour.” He took the water and rinsed out his mouth. “Wouldn’t be an issue if we had a pilot that wasn’t a fucking sadist!” Paul yelled as Charlie laughed from the pilot seat. “We had to test the manoeuvrability Boss.” Charlie couldn’t keep a straight face. “How’s she handle?” Brandon ran his hand along the curve of a stub wing. “Like a greased bullet.” Charlie tossed out a bundle of ropes. “That turns on a cap.” “Valkyrie would love this.” Brandon’s words brought a sadness to the three of them that Rosie rarely saw. “Be nice to see what this thing can do with a real pilot at the stick.” The pretend insult brought the mood back up, if only slightly. Paul and Brandon set to work heaving drums free and rolling them to the rear of the Velo. Rosie helped Charlie lash the drums into a square, winding and pulling the rope ever tighter. Rosie scrolled through the Velo systems, finding the option she wanted. She watched from outside as the rear seat slid back, opening the hatch in the floor. Rosie crawled underneath, more than happy to get muddy, and tied off the rope on the anchor point inside the cockpit. Charlie checked the quick release knot and gave Rosie a nod. The tension grew as the Velo lifted off and the rope became taught. Rosie stood impressed as Charlie rocked the craft back to counter the pendulum swing of the suspended drums. After a moment of stillness, the Velo ascended into the night. The engines tilted slightly and the craft powered forward, vanishing into the dark. “We’ll get another four ready, you check the next container.” They set to work again. Brandon grunting and complaining, Paul pleased to get what he called a real workout. All while Janey held the watch. Rosie connected to the digital lock, breaking the encryption in less time than putting in a row of zeros for password. The steel door clunked and swung open. Rosie peeked into the dark inside as the moonlight caught something in the shape of a person. She pressed her back against the container and gripped the carbine tight. A blink turned near black night into a well light green. Rose turned into the container, weapon levelled, and felt foolish for overreacting. Inside stood four suits of power armour, two either side. With the container chassis up to her waist they looked even taller than the one in the lighthouse. Rosie had been banned from touching it by Charlie, knowing Paul wouldn’t like it. In truth the thought of being encased like that frightened her. “Hey, you should check this out.” Rosie called out as she climbed up and in. “Son of bitch!” Brandon sounded amused and annoyed in equal measure. “Why didn’t we open this one first.” Paul laughed, he hadn’t had a workout this good in weeks. “Rosie, I’m gonna make you so many pancakes.” Paul climbed in and began checking over the suits. Rosie set about levering open the wooden crates with her axe. The old crates splintered and split with little effort. Round helmets with full face gas masks, built in comms. Night vision with infrared lights. Heavy shoulder plates attached to thick leather coats, a flexible chest piece designed to be worn under . Steel shin plates to protect the legs. The next crate contained a set of forty mil launchers, break action and single shot. Rosie inspected the rounds, the writing still legible. Smoke, flash, and something called tear gas. The last crate held automatic shotguns, wood grips with round mags. Boxes of bean bag shells and rubber slugs next to them. “It’s riot gear, less than lethal.” Brandon seemed to find it distasteful. “Things were bad before the bombs fell. Food shortages, automated factories taking away jobs, people who wanted peace. They’d use this shit on unarmed civilians.” Distaste grew into anger and disgust. “We’re taking this stuff right?” Rosie didn’t want to leave this stuff behind again, and cared little for the riot she’d probably started. At least until she saw the look on Brandon’s face, like John had in the weeks before he left her. Brandon yanked free a grenade launcher, slid in a smoke round and flicked it shut with a plunk. “All of it. We’ll fucking carry it if we have to.” Rosie got a fist bump from Paul on her way out and almost squealed with excitement. And for the girl who loved stories of the old world detective, the police container still held it’s secrets. “Amateurs.” Rosie scoffed as the police encryption broke quicker than the rest. A chill of fear shot through her as the built in fluorescent lights flickered on. Hung along the walls were blue helmets and black vests that Vault Sec wore. Next to the same steel batons with clear shields. The pounding of boots on metal floors and struggling in a room close by echoed in her mind. Rosie wanted to burn it, and would have, were it not the volatile jet fuel nearby and the locked cage towards the back. She almost heard Charlie laugh as a simple padlock stopped Rosie in her tracks. Picking actual locks took a patience that Rosie lacked. A forceful yank on the axe handle popped the lock free. Inside the cage Rosie found boxes. The seemingly random contents had all been marked with numbers on cardboard tags that matched some of the boxes. She pawed through them excitedly, letting papers fall as she matched files to evidence. A terminal used by a hacker held some interest, till she realised they’d been caught. A golf club that had been used in a murder. Boxes of knives and pistols, bricks of white and brown powder packed tight, all from the same case. “Anything interesting?” Brandon almost startled her, lost in century old crimes. “Decent pair of carbines from a bank robbery. Some chems and a terminal.” Brandon gave her a curious look. “For you, not for me.” “The paperwork?” Rosie sighed. “There’s too much.” “Relax, this is why we feed the Scribes.” Brandon laughed, but Rosie didn’t get it. “We need something to carry this stuff, thought you might have a bright idea.” Rosie smiled as Brandon helped her up. Paul and Brandon wore the dull green armour like clothes, making short work off unloading more drums. Charlie made another run, and another in even less time. Rosie set to work controlling Janey. The red light from the laser looked even brighter in the dark as it easily cut a container door free. Then carved four holes in the corners. Rosie watched as the unmanned armour shunted into motion, copying the motions of the manned counterparts. She wanted to connect to the armour, but Brandon gently dissuaded her. He didn’t want to risk a problem out here. Rosie couldn't argue with that, not as the sun began to rise. With the container door held by four mechanised hands, and the front two suits leading the back, the return journey took a good deal longer. Janey brought up the rear and Rosie took point. Slipping through the shadows, then watching and waiting for the whirring stomp of marching power armour to catch up. Paul and Brandon set the cargo down just outside the lighthouse and bumped mechanised fists with clang. Rosie saw how happy the journey had made them as they jumped out of the suits. They’d been talking over the armour comm and Rosie couldn’t break in wirelessly. That had grated, not because of missing the conversation, but more the puzzle. “I can touch this one right?” Rosie asked, not willing to accept no as an answer. “All yours.” Paul grinned as he made a hand signal and the armour removed it’s own helmet and handed it to Rosie. She turned and saw Matt at the door, frustrated and disappointed. “Boss.” Brandon read his mood. “Cheer up Matthew, you get to do inventory.” Matt didn’t find that funny. “Like a fucking Scribe.” “That’s not true.” Brandon took a more serious tone, for a moment. “Scribes don’t have a bot to help them.” Brandon gave her a nod and Rosie set Janey to work. She felt bad for Matt, remembering her own time recovering. “I got you something.” Rosie took the black shiny rocks from her pack and handed them to Matt. His frustration broke for a moment as the touch of the rock brought a pleasant memory. “Thank you Rosie.” “What are they for anyway?” Rosie tried to sound casual, as if she didn’t care about the reason that had eluded her for the last few miles. “Knapping.” “They help you sleep?!” Rosie’s calm vanished at such a ridiculous answer. Paul and Brandon laughed first, with Matt at least trying not to. “Later. We need to knap ourselves.” Brandon had a point, but Rosie had a puzzle to solve. “I’m good.” Rosie sat where she’d stood, still dirty, and set to work. She felt Matt’s eyes for a moment. To him she just sat, staring into nothing. To her she saw a green code, calculations and diagrams. And a way to break in to Brotherhood comms. Forty two days, she thought. No matter what