Fort Constantine
Nov. 16th, 2010 11:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyThey've been traveling for what feels like hours in the darkness, relying more on Fawkes' low-light vision than Ellen's helmet light to find their way. A moving light in the darkness only invites investigation from those least wanted, after all. The stream that ran past Raven Rock was a breeding ground for mirelurks, several of which chased them a considerable distance before finally being felled. Ellen insisted on digging a firepit and preparing at least a little of the meat after that. She'd seen Cross' haggard look and knew all too well how hungry the older woman must be after the events of the past... however many hours. Fawkes declined, saying he'd already eaten. In the end, there was enough.
They're moving again now, the fire dead and buried, and making their way up a hill that probably offers a commanding view of the Wasteland in daylight. For now the only view of any sort that it offers is of great black bulk against the skies: buildings, unused, or at least unlit. "I don't suggest we go in," Ellen murmurs, "but this might be a good place to wait for morning."
Fawkes nods. "It seems defensible," the meta-human says. "At least, in theory. We should be mindful."
"Of course." Ellen glances at Cross. "What do you think?"
"I think," said Cross, "that I hear something mechanical moving nearby."
Ellen goes silent and crouches down immediately behind the wreck of a gutted Corvega, presenting the smallest profile she can. The others join her. None too soon, either. The chittering clatter of treads heralds a robobrain slipping out from behind one of the smaller buildings, on its way towards one of the larger. Before anyone can say anything, plasma fire lashes out from further along the slope, missing the robot by inches.
The return volley, of plasma and lasers and bullets alike, lights up a cluster of armored Enclave foot soldiers who give the impression of being very much taken aback by the counter-fire. As the squad starts shooting in earnest Fawkes observes, “They seem disheartened.”
“I’d be too, under the circumstances,” says Cross. “Lost their headquarters and their leadership, and now it’s six of them versus quite a security system.”
No one speaks for a while, allowing the battle to rage without them.
“And yet they persist,” says Fawkes. “It makes me wonder what this place must hold, if they’re willing to risk themselves this way.”
“Must be an armory,” Ellen says. “They probably didn’t grab as much as they should’ve on the way out of Raven Rock and they must need to replenish their stock.”
“Them or someone they report to,” Cross agrees. “Ellen… the Enclave has the purifier, and the GECK. If they haven’t started it already-“
“They haven’t. They need a code word.”
“Then it’s only a matter of time until they guess it,” Cross says. “Whatever they’re willing to risk themselves to get here can only fortify their position at the purifier. We can’t let them have it.”
Ellen winces, looking over the three of them and calculating their ammunition supply. After a moment she says, “I need to find a door, I think…”
“Do so. And quickly. I’ll explain to Fawkes, but we can’t afford to wait for a large group to assemble.”
They're moving again now, the fire dead and buried, and making their way up a hill that probably offers a commanding view of the Wasteland in daylight. For now the only view of any sort that it offers is of great black bulk against the skies: buildings, unused, or at least unlit. "I don't suggest we go in," Ellen murmurs, "but this might be a good place to wait for morning."
Fawkes nods. "It seems defensible," the meta-human says. "At least, in theory. We should be mindful."
"Of course." Ellen glances at Cross. "What do you think?"
"I think," said Cross, "that I hear something mechanical moving nearby."
Ellen goes silent and crouches down immediately behind the wreck of a gutted Corvega, presenting the smallest profile she can. The others join her. None too soon, either. The chittering clatter of treads heralds a robobrain slipping out from behind one of the smaller buildings, on its way towards one of the larger. Before anyone can say anything, plasma fire lashes out from further along the slope, missing the robot by inches.
The return volley, of plasma and lasers and bullets alike, lights up a cluster of armored Enclave foot soldiers who give the impression of being very much taken aback by the counter-fire. As the squad starts shooting in earnest Fawkes observes, “They seem disheartened.”
“I’d be too, under the circumstances,” says Cross. “Lost their headquarters and their leadership, and now it’s six of them versus quite a security system.”
No one speaks for a while, allowing the battle to rage without them.
“And yet they persist,” says Fawkes. “It makes me wonder what this place must hold, if they’re willing to risk themselves this way.”
“Must be an armory,” Ellen says. “They probably didn’t grab as much as they should’ve on the way out of Raven Rock and they must need to replenish their stock.”
“Them or someone they report to,” Cross agrees. “Ellen… the Enclave has the purifier, and the GECK. If they haven’t started it already-“
“They haven’t. They need a code word.”
“Then it’s only a matter of time until they guess it,” Cross says. “Whatever they’re willing to risk themselves to get here can only fortify their position at the purifier. We can’t let them have it.”
Ellen winces, looking over the three of them and calculating their ammunition supply. After a moment she says, “I need to find a door, I think…”
“Do so. And quickly. I’ll explain to Fawkes, but we can’t afford to wait for a large group to assemble.”