Project Purity Basement

As usual, no one at the Citadel had noticed Ellen had been gone at all. Milliways was helpful that way. If she seemed a little more composed when she came out of her quarters an hour after the captured Vertibird- that was still hard to believe- returned from Adams, nobody said anything about it. They had too many other things to say instead-

"When I first met you some time ago, I was leery of your motivations and even more concerned with your methods. But at the battle for Project Purity, you proved yourself..."

"When I first saw you long ago in that alley in Chevy Chase, I thought you were just some trashy Wastelander. I'm glad I was wrong..."

"Well! I suppose we have you to thank for the sudden influx of equipment pouring in from the ruins you left behind. That should help keep us one step ahead of our enemies in the Wasteland..."

"Ha! I told those bastards you could do it!"

They were nice words, they really were. And as such they were about a million miles from the words she was hearing now, in the belly of the Jefferson Memorial, from a red-robed Scribe with red-rimmed eyes and the infinitely weary air of someone who would give just about anything to shove his job off onto someone else:

"Got to hand it to you, kid. That was a brave thing you did, risking your life to start this Purifier." The Scribe- Bigsley, Paladin Tristan had said his name would be Bigsley when he'd ordered her here- flashed a quick, humorless smile. "But, do you know you've made my life a living hell? I'm guessing not."

Ellen... did not know what to say to that.

"The 'hero of the Wasteland' probably has more important things to worry about," Bigsley went on. "Don't you?"

"I'm sorry?" Ellen said, as politely as she could manage. She'd known this man less than thirty seconds, and already she wanted to stomp on his toes.

"Excuse me." The man ran his hands over his thinning brown hair. "I'm Bigsley. Scribe Bigsley, in case the robe didn't give it away. And I'm just a tad stressed out. Perhaps you saw that little line outside my door?"

There were five or six junior Scribes seated outside the door, most of them carrying stacks of documentation or books, all of them looking uncomfortable. Ellen glanced over her shoulder briefly, then looked back to Bigsley.

"Everyone was so excited about that Purifier. 'Project Purity' this, and 'Project Purity' that," Bigsley went on. "But did anyone stop to ask, "Hey, what are we going to DO with all that clean water?" Well, guess who gets to fill in that tiny detail. It'd be one thing if I had real support, but that little war with the Enclave's taken a lot of the Brotherhood's resources. And Elder Lyons' little arrangements with the communities out there won't be paying off for months, assuming we're lucky- which, of course, I'm not." He shook his head. "And to top it off, I have to be mommy to a bunch of lab coats!"

For all his exhausted looks, Ellen had the sinking feeling Bigsley could keep complaining for the rest of the day. She cleared her throat and said, mildly, "Paladin Tristan sent me to lend a hand. What do you need help with?"

Bigsley blinked, his train of thought derailed. "Really?" he said. "Well. There's plenty of things I need help with. Most of it's pushing papers and knocking sense into giant eggheads. A task for any Acolyte, really. I could put your experience and talents to far better use someplace else..."

He glanced down at the papers half-covering his desk and riffled through a few of them.

"Oh, yes. Megaton. You're from there, aren't you? They sent a message saying they need more Aqua Pura. That's what we're branding the stuff from the Purifier." He shook his head. "I just sent them a shipment. Need someone to go visit them and see what their problem is."

That sounded a little strange, but Ellen didn't know the details of the water distribution operation. She just said, "Do you think they're trying to defraud us or something?"

"I don't know what to think." Bigsley threw his hands in the air, scowling. "I've got Lyons breathing down my neck about it, though. Apparently Megaton's sending him nasty letters demanding a shipment. They've got a week's supply! A month's, if they ration."

Ellen had her doubts about what a man like this might think Megaton needed, but she nodded anyway. He must've seen it in her face, because his expression softened a little and he said, "Look. If you can straighten out Megaton so I get Lyons off my back, I'll make it worth your while."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Really?" Bigsley smiled. It was too tired to be convincing. "That's great! I'm sorry I can't offer you any support in this-"

"It's all right," said Ellen. "I have some resources of my own."

"Thanks again," said Bigsley. "Don't come back until you have an answer, though, okay?"

Ellen restrained, once again, the urge to stomp on his toes. She had to go and round up Fawkes and Dogmeat; there was a long walk ahead of them.