Temple of the Union
Dec. 12th, 2009 02:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyEllen made a mental note to swing by Canterbury Commons and buy as many stimpaks as she could carry when she headed back south. The blond man, Perlie Garner, had been stung by a radscorpion before Ellen could kill it and she'd had to use up most of her own supply to save him. As it was, well- up ahead there was a ruin that might've been an office building once, and that was the only relatively-intact building standing anywhere in sight. If it wasn't the Temple that they'd been looking for, it would at least be a place to rest.
As they approached the building, someone inside darted past one of the gaping holes in the wall where windows had been. "What's your business, stranger?" a woman's voice called out.
"We're slaves," called Enrique, the tanned man. "Escaped slaves, trying to find the Temple of the Union. Please, we've been on the run so long-"
"Fine, fine- what about her, though?" The speaker peered out a little longer now, her face pale and weathered, her eyes distrustful. "Runaways don't wind up with that kind of gear."
"I've been escorting these gentlemen," said Ellen in answer. "For safety's sake."
The woman wrinkled her nose. "Hnf. All right. Hannibal says I gotta let folks like you in along with folks like them, but that don't mean I have to like it," she grumbled. "Keep your hands in sight and don't make any sudden moves. I'm coming down to open the gate."
She disappeared. Ellen glanced at the three men, but their attention was on the gate like Dogmeat's on a half-open can of Cram. Ellen couldn't really blame them; she turned back in time to catch a muttered 'Out of my way' and the sound of a lock squeaking open. "Okay," said the woman. "Hannibal's upstairs somewhere. You three go on up and see him first, and then he wants to talk to you." She nodded to Ellen as she locked the door. "Don't try anything."
"I wasn't planning on it," Ellen said mildly.
The woman grunted and leaned back against a nearby wall, her eyes on Ellen and her rifle in her hands. Ellen did her best to ignore the angry glare, instead looking around. There was no roof on the building, and the upper floors were so battered and broken that sunshine reached the ground floor in places. A scrawny but otherwise healthy-looking dog, who had something of Dogmeat's look to him, was sprawled in one of the sunnier patches. Off to one side, a dark-skinned, muscular man in leathers and pre-war goggles was at work on some slab of stone with a hammer and a chisel. There was a Brahmin about somewhere, too- Ellen couldn't see it, but she could certainly smell it. Possibly it was outside, or behind one of the closed doors- the building had been fairly large once and for all she knew the back room might've been converted into an impromptu stable...
"Send her up," came a man's voice from overhead.
"You heard the man." The woman gestured with her rifle. "Go on, get going."
Ellen clucked once to Dogmeat and started up the stairs. Enrique and the last of the three escapees were seated at a crudely-propped up table, eating; Perlie was being led towards a closed door towards the back of the building. Towards the front of the building, for no reason that Ellen could discern, was a sizable stone head of Abraham Lincoln. There were several other people there that she didn't recognize, and one of them, a skinny man several shades darker than Sheriff Simms in a suit of bodged-together combat armor, was coming her way. "Ah," he said, "our visitor. Welcome to the Temple of the Union. I am Hannibal Hamlin. I'm not going to ask who you are. For the moment, I don't care. We are all escaped slaves here, and I need your solemn promise not to betray us to Paradise Falls or the slavers. Until I get that, you cannot leave here. So, do I have your word?"
She glanced over at Enrique and Somersett, and then back at the man speaking to her. It seemed a pointless thing to ask in the light of evidence, but- "All right," she said. "I promise."
The dark man nodded, smiled. "Welcome, sister, to the Temple of the Union. Our home is your home. Your past is your own affair, so long as you serve our common good. As a symbol of our trust, here is a key to the gate."
Ellen blinked; she hadn't expected that. "Thanks," she said as Hannibal deposited the key in her upturned palm. "Um. What's the deal with the head, there?"
"That's Abraham Lincoln, the Great Emancipator," said Hannibal. "We don't know how it came to be here, but it's fitting, don't you think?"
"About the only better option would be Harriet Tubman," said Ellen, who'd paid attention in her American History classes. "So you were-"
"For twenty-three years I was a slave, ever since I was fourteen," Hannibal said. "Six years ago I managed to escape from my master, a coastal trader named Tobar. He's been hunting me ever since. When I found the head of Lincoln here, I knew it was a sign for me to help other slaves to escape. I founded the Temple of the Union as a safe haven for runaway slaves everywhere."
Ellen nodded, glancing around at the other people on their floor. "It looks like you're off to a good start," she murmured, not knowing what else to say. That sort of thing was well outside her experience.
"Maybe," Hamlin demurred. "We want to create a haven for all runaway slaves. We give food and supplies to any that find us, and help them on their way. If we had the room, or the water, we would let them stay, but- well, look around you. It's not much more than a waypoint, at best." His expression brightened, growing more intense as he added, "I have a plan, though. A plan to take over a place that will be a shining beacon of hope for all slaves."
"Um," said Ellen. "'Take over'?"
"Not like that, I assure you," Hamlin said. "I want to move all my people to the Memorial site for the great Abraham Lincoln, but I need to know if it's safe. I've heard rumors of supermutants infesting the area, you see. We've been debating who to send to investigate for a while now."
Well, Ellen had to go into the DC ruins anyway, and Mr. Mills had taken her to his world's Memorial. If she could get into the Metro system again she could come up close enough to the Washington Monument that the Memorial would be in sight, and then from there a tunnel trip to Rivet City would be simple enough. "I think," she said, "that I could help you with that."
"I was hoping you would help us," Hamlin admitted. "Do you know the ruins at all?"
"I've been in and out a few times."
"Good," said Hamlin. The Memorial lies at the western end of the National Mall, beyond the Washington Monument. It should be easy enough to find. One other thing- talk to Caleb Smith, downstairs, before you set out. He'll need your help. We can't leave unless he's ready, too."
Ellen cocked her head curiously. "What does he need?"
"He was a stonemason. It will fall to him to restore the Memorial as best he can. He's been pestering me for weeks now to get him some things he needs. I don't have time to deal with him right now."
Ellen's eyebrows went up, but she nodded. "I'd better get busy, then."
Hamlin bowed his head. "May the spirit of the great Lincoln protect you."
Caleb, Ellen guessed, was the dark man working on the stone downstairs. As she approached she saw that it was an ancient marble slab, that there had been words carved in it once. Only a few letters were even remotely readable now. Caleb was busily working away at some of the letters, stone dust hanging in the air around him. At Ellen's approach he said, "You're new. I'm Caleb. If you're going to be staying a while, I could use some help."
"Actually," Ellen said, "Hannibal tells me you need something?"
Caleb straightened up, wiping his forehead on the back of one arm. "Hannibal told you about Lincoln's Memorial?" he said curiously. When Ellen nodded, he went on. "Well, he doesn't just want to live there. He also wants to restore it. Make it so people tell stories about it and the word can get to the slaves. But I can't restore something if I don't know what it looked like. I need a drawing or a photograph of it when it was in its prime."
Ellen thought for a moment of Milliways, but just said, "And I bet you know where I can find one."
"Yes." Caleb gestured southward with his chisel. "There might be one in the Museum of History. Alejandra says there was an exhibit going on about Lincoln when the bombs fell. If you could bring it back for me-"
"I'll see what I can do," Ellen promised. There were ruins enough along the route south, she was sure. At least one would ahve a door she could try. "I'd better get going."
"Thanks," said Caleb, and flashed a dazzling smile. "Take care out there."
As they approached the building, someone inside darted past one of the gaping holes in the wall where windows had been. "What's your business, stranger?" a woman's voice called out.
"We're slaves," called Enrique, the tanned man. "Escaped slaves, trying to find the Temple of the Union. Please, we've been on the run so long-"
"Fine, fine- what about her, though?" The speaker peered out a little longer now, her face pale and weathered, her eyes distrustful. "Runaways don't wind up with that kind of gear."
"I've been escorting these gentlemen," said Ellen in answer. "For safety's sake."
The woman wrinkled her nose. "Hnf. All right. Hannibal says I gotta let folks like you in along with folks like them, but that don't mean I have to like it," she grumbled. "Keep your hands in sight and don't make any sudden moves. I'm coming down to open the gate."
She disappeared. Ellen glanced at the three men, but their attention was on the gate like Dogmeat's on a half-open can of Cram. Ellen couldn't really blame them; she turned back in time to catch a muttered 'Out of my way' and the sound of a lock squeaking open. "Okay," said the woman. "Hannibal's upstairs somewhere. You three go on up and see him first, and then he wants to talk to you." She nodded to Ellen as she locked the door. "Don't try anything."
"I wasn't planning on it," Ellen said mildly.
The woman grunted and leaned back against a nearby wall, her eyes on Ellen and her rifle in her hands. Ellen did her best to ignore the angry glare, instead looking around. There was no roof on the building, and the upper floors were so battered and broken that sunshine reached the ground floor in places. A scrawny but otherwise healthy-looking dog, who had something of Dogmeat's look to him, was sprawled in one of the sunnier patches. Off to one side, a dark-skinned, muscular man in leathers and pre-war goggles was at work on some slab of stone with a hammer and a chisel. There was a Brahmin about somewhere, too- Ellen couldn't see it, but she could certainly smell it. Possibly it was outside, or behind one of the closed doors- the building had been fairly large once and for all she knew the back room might've been converted into an impromptu stable...
"Send her up," came a man's voice from overhead.
"You heard the man." The woman gestured with her rifle. "Go on, get going."
Ellen clucked once to Dogmeat and started up the stairs. Enrique and the last of the three escapees were seated at a crudely-propped up table, eating; Perlie was being led towards a closed door towards the back of the building. Towards the front of the building, for no reason that Ellen could discern, was a sizable stone head of Abraham Lincoln. There were several other people there that she didn't recognize, and one of them, a skinny man several shades darker than Sheriff Simms in a suit of bodged-together combat armor, was coming her way. "Ah," he said, "our visitor. Welcome to the Temple of the Union. I am Hannibal Hamlin. I'm not going to ask who you are. For the moment, I don't care. We are all escaped slaves here, and I need your solemn promise not to betray us to Paradise Falls or the slavers. Until I get that, you cannot leave here. So, do I have your word?"
She glanced over at Enrique and Somersett, and then back at the man speaking to her. It seemed a pointless thing to ask in the light of evidence, but- "All right," she said. "I promise."
The dark man nodded, smiled. "Welcome, sister, to the Temple of the Union. Our home is your home. Your past is your own affair, so long as you serve our common good. As a symbol of our trust, here is a key to the gate."
Ellen blinked; she hadn't expected that. "Thanks," she said as Hannibal deposited the key in her upturned palm. "Um. What's the deal with the head, there?"
"That's Abraham Lincoln, the Great Emancipator," said Hannibal. "We don't know how it came to be here, but it's fitting, don't you think?"
"About the only better option would be Harriet Tubman," said Ellen, who'd paid attention in her American History classes. "So you were-"
"For twenty-three years I was a slave, ever since I was fourteen," Hannibal said. "Six years ago I managed to escape from my master, a coastal trader named Tobar. He's been hunting me ever since. When I found the head of Lincoln here, I knew it was a sign for me to help other slaves to escape. I founded the Temple of the Union as a safe haven for runaway slaves everywhere."
Ellen nodded, glancing around at the other people on their floor. "It looks like you're off to a good start," she murmured, not knowing what else to say. That sort of thing was well outside her experience.
"Maybe," Hamlin demurred. "We want to create a haven for all runaway slaves. We give food and supplies to any that find us, and help them on their way. If we had the room, or the water, we would let them stay, but- well, look around you. It's not much more than a waypoint, at best." His expression brightened, growing more intense as he added, "I have a plan, though. A plan to take over a place that will be a shining beacon of hope for all slaves."
"Um," said Ellen. "'Take over'?"
"Not like that, I assure you," Hamlin said. "I want to move all my people to the Memorial site for the great Abraham Lincoln, but I need to know if it's safe. I've heard rumors of supermutants infesting the area, you see. We've been debating who to send to investigate for a while now."
Well, Ellen had to go into the DC ruins anyway, and Mr. Mills had taken her to his world's Memorial. If she could get into the Metro system again she could come up close enough to the Washington Monument that the Memorial would be in sight, and then from there a tunnel trip to Rivet City would be simple enough. "I think," she said, "that I could help you with that."
"I was hoping you would help us," Hamlin admitted. "Do you know the ruins at all?"
"I've been in and out a few times."
"Good," said Hamlin. The Memorial lies at the western end of the National Mall, beyond the Washington Monument. It should be easy enough to find. One other thing- talk to Caleb Smith, downstairs, before you set out. He'll need your help. We can't leave unless he's ready, too."
Ellen cocked her head curiously. "What does he need?"
"He was a stonemason. It will fall to him to restore the Memorial as best he can. He's been pestering me for weeks now to get him some things he needs. I don't have time to deal with him right now."
Ellen's eyebrows went up, but she nodded. "I'd better get busy, then."
Hamlin bowed his head. "May the spirit of the great Lincoln protect you."
Caleb, Ellen guessed, was the dark man working on the stone downstairs. As she approached she saw that it was an ancient marble slab, that there had been words carved in it once. Only a few letters were even remotely readable now. Caleb was busily working away at some of the letters, stone dust hanging in the air around him. At Ellen's approach he said, "You're new. I'm Caleb. If you're going to be staying a while, I could use some help."
"Actually," Ellen said, "Hannibal tells me you need something?"
Caleb straightened up, wiping his forehead on the back of one arm. "Hannibal told you about Lincoln's Memorial?" he said curiously. When Ellen nodded, he went on. "Well, he doesn't just want to live there. He also wants to restore it. Make it so people tell stories about it and the word can get to the slaves. But I can't restore something if I don't know what it looked like. I need a drawing or a photograph of it when it was in its prime."
Ellen thought for a moment of Milliways, but just said, "And I bet you know where I can find one."
"Yes." Caleb gestured southward with his chisel. "There might be one in the Museum of History. Alejandra says there was an exhibit going on about Lincoln when the bombs fell. If you could bring it back for me-"
"I'll see what I can do," Ellen promised. There were ruins enough along the route south, she was sure. At least one would ahve a door she could try. "I'd better get going."
"Thanks," said Caleb, and flashed a dazzling smile. "Take care out there."