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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
It arrived one ship, one wall, one family at a time. And tomorrow, they would build again.
Morning came hard and early.
The kind of morning that didn't ask whether you were ready.
It simply arrived, cold and unapologetic, and expected you to keep up.
Far Harbor, as always, did.
The wind had shifted overnight, coming in sharper from the northeast, carrying the scent of salt, pine, and distant rain. Frost glazed the half-finished wall in a thin silver sheen, making the steel braces sparkle under the first light. The floodlamps had only recently been extinguished, leaving behind the softer glow of dawn.
Workers were already gathering.
Of course they were.
Nobody in Far Harbor seemed capable of sleeping once there was something important to build.
Sico stood near the new northern platform, coffee steaming in one hand, the other tucked into his coat pocket. He had been awake for over an hour, long enough to walk the entire construction line twice and determine that nothing catastrophic had occurred during the night.
A successful evening, by most standards.
Briggs approached through the morning haze, accompanied by Harris and two squad leaders. Their boots crunched over the frozen dirt with the steady rhythm of men who had spent the night ensuring other people got to sleep.
Briggs handed over a clipboard.
The Republic did love its paperwork.
"Night patrol report."
Sico took it.
"Anything interesting?"
Harris scratched at the stubble along his jaw.
"Depends on your standards."
"They're extremely low."
"Then yes."
Sico skimmed the pages quickly.
No casualties.
No breaches.
No hostile contact.
One false alarm caused by a radstag deciding the new wall was personally offensive.
Another patrol reported distant movement in the Fog, likely trappers or scavengers, but they never approached within rifle range.
And then Sico paused.
He looked up.
"A child attempted to bribe a sentry with two bottle caps for access to his 'future mansion.'"
Harris folded his arms.
"He was very persuasive."
"What happened?"
"We counteroffered with a warning about curfew."
"And?"
"He asked if the warning came with free land."
Briggs almost smiled.
"Sharp kid."
"Potentially dangerous," Sico said.
"Definitely political."
He handed the clipboard back.
"Good work."
Briggs nodded once.
The kind of nod soldiers treasured more than speeches.
"We'll maintain double patrols until the wall's complete."
"Agreed."
Harris gestured toward the treeline.
"Fog's been quiet."
"It usually gets louder when ignored."
"Wonderful."
Sico finished his coffee and handed the empty mug to a passing private, who accepted it with the resigned expression of a man who had somehow become responsible for everyone's cups.
The construction zone was already coming alive.
Hammers rang out.
Welders sent showers of sparks into the pale morning air.
Timber groaned as cranes lifted support beams into place.
The wall had grown substantially overnight under floodlights and stubborn determination.
Another hundred meters stood reinforced.
Rough, skeletal, but strong.
Far Harbor was learning to think bigger.
That mattered.
Avery joined him shortly after sunrise, bundled against the cold, carrying her own mug.
"You're up early."
"I haven't gone to sleep yet."
"That explains why you look so cheerful."
He ignored that.
Mostly because it was accurate.
She stared out across the new district, where stakes and trenches marked future streets.
Yesterday it had been empty ground.
Today it already felt claimed.
Occupied.
Promised.
"People are excited," she said.
"They should be."
"One woman asked me if we're zoning residential lots."
Sico blinked.
"Are we?"
"We are now, apparently."
That earned the smallest hint of amusement.
Dangerous territory.
Avery took a sip of coffee.
"What's next?"
Sico looked beyond the wall, past the scaffolding and supply crates, to the open land stretching farther inland.
There was room.
Plenty of it.
A city could not live on fish and imported supplies forever.
Steel and walls mattered.
But food was civilization.
He turned toward her.
"I want farmland."
Avery lowered her mug.
"Farmland."
"Yes."
"In Far Harbor."
"That is generally where we are."
She gave him a flat look.
"You know the soil here isn't exactly famous for cooperation."
"It doesn't need to be famous. It just needs to grow things."
"What things?"
Sico reached into his coat and withdrew a small canvas pouch.
He loosened the cord and poured several seeds into his palm.
Tiny things.
Unremarkable.
But powerful.
Avery leaned closer.
"Tatos?"
"And mutfruit."
Her eyebrows rose.
"Where did you get those?"
"I plan ahead."
"That's suspicious."
"It's one of my worst qualities."
She rolled a seed between her fingers.
Farming.
Real farming.
Not scavenged scraps from pre-war planters.
Not desperate patches behind homes.
Proper, organized agriculture.
It was a revolutionary thought.
In the Commonwealth, perhaps not.
But here?
Here, it could change everything.
Sico closed his hand around the seeds.
"I want a test field. Small at first. Protected. Well-drained."
Avery was already thinking.
He could see it happening.
Calculating manpower.
Land allocation.
Who among her people had ever coaxed life from stubborn soil.
Which, in Far Harbor, was probably more than one might expect.
"You're serious."
"I rarely carry agricultural supplies for dramatic effect."
"That's a shame."
She finished her coffee.
"I know exactly who to ask."
Within an hour, Far Harbor had discovered its newest obsession.
Apparently walls were yesterday's excitement.
Today belonged to dirt.
Avery gathered a dozen harbor men and women near the southern section of the new district. Some were carpenters. A few were fishermen. One had once kept a vegetable garden before a mirelurk developed an opinion about property rights.
All of them were curious.
Most were skeptical.
Allen Lee arrived because Allen Lee always arrived.
No one had invited him.
That had never stopped him before.
He looked over the marked plot and frowned.
"We building something?"
"Yes," Avery said.
"A farm."
Allen stared.
Then he looked at Sico.
Then back at Avery.
Then back at Sico again.
"You've finally lost your mind."
"Only partially."
Allen planted his hands on his hips.
"On this island?"
"Tatos and mutfruit."
Allen considered that.
"Can I eat them?"
"Eventually."
"Then I support this reckless endeavor."
One of the older fishermen, a broad-shouldered woman named Marla, knelt and scooped up a handful of soil.
She rubbed it between her fingers.
"Rocky."
"Cold."
"Stubborn."
She looked up.
"Perfect. Feels like home."
That earned a chorus of agreement.
Sico appreciated practical optimism.
The chosen field lay inside the new perimeter, close enough to the main gate for protection, far enough from heavy construction to avoid constant interruption. The ground sloped gently for drainage. A nearby well could be expanded for irrigation.
Not ideal.
But workable.
And in places like Far Harbor, workable was practically luxury.
Shovels broke earth.
The first furrows were rough, uneven, and deeply personal.
There was something different about digging for planting instead of fortification.
The mood shifted.
Less urgency.
More hope.
Children gathered at the edge of the field, fascinated by the idea that food might someday emerge from dirt rather than fishing nets.
One little boy pointed at the seeds in Sico's hand.
"They don't look like much."
"They're not," Sico replied.
"Yet."
The boy considered that.
Then nodded as though receiving profound military intelligence.
"I'll guard them."
"A vital assignment."
He saluted.
Terribly.
Then ran off to inform his friends of his promotion.
Avery watched him go.
"Future general."
"Or future tax collector."
"That's darker."
Marla organized the planting with ruthless competence.
"Rows straight," she barked. "We're growing vegetables, not abstract art."
A marine driving stakes for irrigation glanced over.
"Can vegetables be abstract?"
"Yours would be."
He wisely returned to his work.
The tatos went in first.
Carefully spaced.
Each seed pressed into the earth with fingers rough from years of survival.
Then the mutfruit.
Hardier.
More forgiving.
A good choice for this climate.
Sico moved among them, offering instructions where needed, listening more than speaking.
This was their project now.
That mattered.
Republics weren't built by issuing orders alone.
People needed to place their own hands on the future.
Allen crouched beside a row, staring suspiciously at the ground.
"How long until food?"
"Several weeks."
He looked offended.
"That seems inefficient."
"Nature has poor customer service."
Avery laughed.
A real laugh, bright and brief against the sound of digging.
Nearby, Briggs approached from the perimeter, binoculars hanging at his chest.
"Patrol update."
Sico turned.
"Report."
"North and west sectors clear. No hostile movement. One dead yao guai about three miles inland, looks like it lost an argument with something bigger."
"Comforting."
"Not particularly."
He glanced at the field.
His expression shifted from professional neutrality to mild confusion.
"Are we farming?"
"We are."
Briggs took a moment.
Then nodded.
"Good."
That was all.
A soldier's approval.
Simple.
Solid.
Valuable.
By midday, the first plots were complete.
Not large.
Not yet.
But neat rows stretched across the cleared ground, dark soil contrasting against the lingering frost.
The beginnings of agriculture.
The beginnings of independence.
A wooden fence went up around the perimeter, less to keep raiders out than to keep curious children and overly ambitious brahmin from conducting unscheduled inspections.
Allen immediately leaned against it.
"This is my favorite farm."
"It's the only farm."
"Exactly."
Teddy Wright arrived just in time to contribute absolutely nothing useful.
He examined the seedlings with professional seriousness.
"I can already tell these plants will eventually require medical attention."
"They're vegetables."
"So are some of my patients."
Avery nearly choked on her coffee.
The afternoon passed quickly.
Construction continued on the wall while the farm took shape nearby, two kinds of progress unfolding side by side.
Defense and sustainability.
Steel and soil.
One protected the future.
The other fed it.
Sico spent much of the day moving between both projects.
Reviewing supply inventories.
Checking patrol rotations.
Inspecting the irrigation trench.
Approving lumber allocations.
A Republic was, unfortunately, composed almost entirely of logistics.
Still, there were worse ways to spend a day.
At one point, Harris found him kneeling beside the newly planted rows, adjusting spacing between stakes.
"I never pictured you as a farmer."
"I never pictured you as literate."
"Yet here we both are."
He crouched beside him.
"You really think this will work?"
Sico studied the soil.
The seeds hidden beneath.
The careful rows.
The people who had planted them.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because failure would be inconvenient."
Harris snorted.
"An inspiring philosophy."
"It's gotten me this far."
Word spread fast.
By late afternoon, nearly half of Far Harbor had visited the field.
Some out of curiosity.
Some out of hope.
A few because apparently watching dirt was now considered entertainment.
One elderly woman touched the fence and quietly said she hadn't seen proper crops since before the bombs.
That alone made the effort worthwhile.
As the sun began its descent, Marla approached Sico, wiping dirt from her hands.
"We'll need fertilizer."
"Noted."
"And more seeds if this takes."
"It will."
She eyed him.
"Confident."
"Usually."
"Good."
She looked back at the planted rows.
"If these grow, everything changes."
"That's the idea."
She nodded slowly.
Then, after a moment.
"My husband always said a place isn't truly home until you can grow dinner there."
Sico followed her gaze.
Far Harbor stretched behind them.
The harbor.
The wall.
The homes.
The ships.
And now this.
A field.
Small.
Fragile.
But real.
"He was right."
That evening, a light rain began to fall.
Not heavy.
Just enough to darken the soil and leave tiny beads of water clinging to the fence posts.
Perfect timing.
The kind of luck people remembered.
Lanterns glowed along the new wall.
Guards took their posts.
Workers drifted toward home, tired in the satisfying way that only comes from building something meaningful.
Sico remained at the field a while longer.
Avery joined him under the shelter of a canvas awning.
Rain pattered softly overhead.
"You know," she said, "a month ago, if someone had told me we'd be building walls, running armored convoys, and planting mutfruit, I'd have checked them for head trauma."
"A reasonable precaution."
She folded her arms, watching droplets ripple across the freshly turned earth.
"People are starting to believe."
"In what?"
She glanced at him.
"Tomorrow."
That was the heart of it, wasn't it?
Not safety.
Not wealth.
Not even survival.
Tomorrow.
The simple assumption that there would be one.
And another after that.
Far Harbor had gone a long time without trusting in tomorrow.
Now it was planting for it.
Literally.
Night settled fully.
The rain continued.
Gentle.
Steady.
Exactly what young crops needed.
Sico walked the perimeter one final time before heading back.
The wall rose steadily against the darkness, floodlights illuminating steel and timber. Soldiers patrolled above. Workers had left tools neatly stacked for the morning.
At the farm, the soil drank quietly.
Seeds waited beneath.
Patient.
Promising.
Allen, somehow still awake, appeared from the shadows carrying a bottle.
"Celebrating?"
"Inspecting."
"That sounds much less fun."
He handed Sico a cup anyway.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Watching rain fall over the field.
Allen took a sip.
"Never thought I'd see Far Harbor farming."
"Neither did I."
"Think it'll work?"
Sico looked out across the rows.
Across the wall.
Across the town that was becoming something larger every day.
"It has to."
Allen nodded.
Then, with unusual softness.
"Funny thing, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Yesterday we were building walls to keep the world out."
He gestured toward the field.
"Today we're planting reasons to stay in."
For once, Allen Lee had nothing else to add.
And for once, he didn't need to.
Far Harbor slept that night beneath falling rain and rising walls.
Beneath watchful soldiers and unfinished towers.
Beneath the promise of returning ships.
And just beyond the gate, in freshly turned earth, tiny seeds rested in the dark.
Tatos.
Mutfruit.
The smallest kind of beginning.
But beginnings rarely looked impressive.
They looked like dirt.
Like sweat.
Like faith pressed into cold ground by hands that had learned, finally, to build for more than survival.
Tomorrow the wall would grow taller.
More beams would rise.
More land would be claimed.
Morning arrived beneath low clouds and the lingering scent of last night's rain.
The soil in the new field was darker now, richer somehow, as if the earth itself had accepted Far Harbor's offer.
Water clung to every fence post. Tiny droplets hung from the unfinished wall like strings of glass. The world felt freshly washed, cold enough to sting the lungs and clear the mind.
Far Harbor approved.
It was already moving by the time the sun began fighting its way through the overcast.
Hammers rang from the construction line.
Engines coughed awake near the gate.
And out in the new agricultural plot, the harbor men and women were hard at work before breakfast had properly settled.
Marla had commandeered the operation with the terrifying competence of someone who had waited decades for the chance.
Nobody questioned her authority.
That would have been unwise.
Rows were being checked. Irrigation trenches deepened. Protective netting was stretched across the younger sections. A pair of teenagers were hauling compost with expressions suggesting they had committed serious life errors.
Allen Lee stood nearby, offering what he described as "moral support."
Which mostly consisted of leaning against the fence and eating someone else's bread.
Sico approached just as Marla shouted at a fisherman who had somehow managed to plant three stakes upside down.
"Gravity is not optional, Thomas!"
Thomas corrected the mistake immediately.
Sico approved of her management style.
Avery joined him, hands tucked into her coat against the wind.
"I've decided Marla could probably conquer a small nation."
"Only a small one?"
"Before lunch, certainly."
They watched as several workers carefully inspected the soil.
The rain had helped.
A lot.
The ground remained firm enough to work while holding just enough moisture to give the seeds a fighting chance.
For Far Harbor, that practically qualified as divine intervention.
One of the younger women, Nora Collins, crouched beside the first row and gently brushed away a thin layer of dirt.
"There," she said softly.
A tiny green shoot had broken through.
Barely more than a sliver.
Fragile.
Almost laughably small.
Yet somehow it managed to stop half the field.
People gathered around.
Men who had faced fog crawlers without blinking now stared at a sprout as though witnessing a miracle.
Which, in a way, they were.
Allen leaned in.
"That is the smallest potato I've ever seen."
"It's a tato," Marla corrected.
"Still underwhelming."
Avery laughed.
Sico found himself smiling.
It wasn't much.
Just a single green stem pushing upward through stubborn soil.
But it was proof.
Proof that the land could give something back.
Proof that yesterday's labor had mattered.
Proof that tomorrow was not merely an idea.
Marla stood, hands on her hips.
"Well, don't just stare at it. We've got more planting to do."
And just like that, the spell broke.
People returned to work.
But lighter now.
More confident.
They had seen the first sign.
That changed things.
It always did.
Sico spent the next hour moving between the farm and the construction line, checking progress. The northern wall had advanced another fifty meters overnight. Steel braces were going in faster now that crews had found their rhythm.
Briggs met him near the main gate.
"Perimeter quiet."
"Too quiet?"
Briggs considered.
"No. Just normal quiet. The kind I prefer."
"A rare luxury."
Harris approached from the western patrol route, binoculars slung across his chest.
"Fog's pulling back this morning."
"Anything moving?"
"Radstags. One very confused seagull. Allen, but I think he started inside the perimeter."
"Reasonable."
Harris glanced toward the farm.
"People seem happy."
"They're farming."
"I know. It's deeply unsettling."
By midmorning, the entire southern field buzzed with life.
Children carried water buckets far too large for them.
Older fishermen built additional fencing.
A small crew worked on a proper storage shed nearby.
Teddy Wright had somehow appointed himself chief medical officer of the vegetables.
Nobody had the heart to stop him.
It was shaping into something real.
Something permanent.
And then the bells rang.
Not alarm bells.
Not the frantic clanging of imminent attack.
Just the measured toll used when strangers approached.
Every head turned toward the western road.
Conversation died.
Hammers slowed.
Even Allen stopped chewing.
A line of figures emerged through the thinning mist.
Robes.
Weathered and stained by salt and ash.
The symbols of Atom painted across their chests and hanging from rusted chains.
Children of Atom.
There were eight of them.
Enough to make a point.
Not enough to start a fight.
At their center walked their representative, a gaunt man with sunken cheeks, glowing scars along one side of his neck, and eyes that held the unnerving calm of someone who had spent too much time talking to radiation.
He stopped fifty yards from the gate.
The guards tensed immediately.
Rifles remained lowered, but only just.
Avery stepped forward before anyone else could.
Sico noticed that.
Far Harbor was her home.
She intended to meet its problems personally.
Allen muttered under his breath.
"Well, this should be cheerful."
The representative inclined his head.
"Avery."
"Brother."
Neither sounded especially delighted.
His gaze drifted past her, taking in the expanded wall, the armed soldiers, the Humvees, and finally the farm.
There was curiosity there.
And something harder to read.
Perhaps concern.
Perhaps calculation.
"The harbor changes quickly."
"It tends to."
"We heard rumors."
Avery folded her arms.
"Rumors usually charge extra."
A faint smile touched the zealot's lips.
"Atom's children bring a message."
"That sounds expensive too."
He ignored the remark.
"The Fog recedes. The land stirs. Great changes come to this island."
Allen leaned toward Harris.
"He practices that speech in a mirror."
Harris nodded solemnly.
"Almost certainly."
The zealot continued.
"Far Harbor has long resisted Atom's embrace. Yet even now, His glow reaches for you. He offers unity. Purpose. Salvation."
Avery's expression remained carved from granite.
"We've had this conversation before."
"Then perhaps it deserves a better answer."
The air cooled noticeably.
The workers had stopped entirely now.
Farmers.
Builders.
Soldiers.
All watching.
The zealot spread his hands.
"Join us. Accept Atom's wisdom. Unite under His holy light, and together we can guide this island into its next age."
Allen whispered, "I preferred the farming."
Avery did not take her eyes off the man.
"My answer remains the same."
The representative nodded once, as if he had expected nothing else.
"I see."
"Good."
"But you should think again."
His voice lost some of its earlier warmth.
Not much.
Just enough.
"The old divisions cannot survive forever. Atom's patience is vast… but not infinite."
Briggs shifted slightly.
The soldiers noticed it too.
The tone.
The implication.
Avery's jaw tightened.
"Is that a threat?"
"It is a warning."
"No. It's a threat dressed in better clothing."
The zealot took a step forward.
The guards immediately raised their rifles.
He stopped.
Wise man.
"Avery, there may come a day when neutrality is no longer possible. When Far Harbor must choose between Atom's grace… and Atom's judgment."
A heavy silence followed.
The workers exchanged nervous glances.
Several children were quietly ushered farther back.
Marla rested one hand on the handle of her shovel in a way that suggested she was willing to upgrade it to a weapon on very short notice.
Avery's voice hardened.
"Far Harbor chooses Far Harbor."
"Then consider carefully what refusal may cost."
The words hung there.
Cold.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Allen muttered, "Ah. There it is."
Briggs stepped forward, but Sico reached the gate first.
He had been standing several yards back, listening.
Watching.
Assessing.
Now he moved with deliberate calm, boots crunching over damp gravel.
Behind him came twenty Freemason soldiers in full combat armor.
Not hurried.
Not aggressive.
Just precise.
Disciplined.
Terrifying.
Power armor would have been excessive.
This was more effective.
Combat plate gleamed beneath the gray sky. Rifles rested at the ready. Republic insignias caught the light.
The effect on the Children of Atom was immediate.
Every single one of them stiffened.
The representative's eyes widened despite his efforts.
He had heard rumors.
Seeing reality was something else entirely.
Sico stopped beside Avery.
Not in front of her.
Beside her.
Important distinction.
"Is there a problem?"
His voice was calm enough to freeze water.
The zealot studied him.
Then the soldiers.
Then the Humvees.
Then the half-built wall.
Then, perhaps most importantly, the armed civilians holding shovels and hammers like they were perfectly acceptable alternatives to rifles.
Far Harbor had changed.
Rapidly.
And visibly.
"You are… the Republic president."
"Sico."
Recognition flickered.
Not personal.
Reputational.
Word traveled quickly on islands.
Especially frightening word.
"We have heard of you."
"I imagine selectively."
That seemed to unsettle him more than it should have.
The representative recovered quickly.
"Atom welcomes all who seek truth."
"How generous."
His gaze remained steady.
"We merely came to offer Far Harbor a place among Atom's faithful."
"And then threatened war when they declined."
The zealot hesitated.
"Warned of consequences."
"That is generally how threats introduce themselves."
Allen coughed suspiciously into his hand.
It sounded a lot like laughter.
Sico took one step closer.
Not enough to invade space.
Just enough to make the other man aware of distance.
And how quickly it could disappear.
"Far Harbor is under Republic protection."
The words landed like steel.
Simple.
Uncomplicated.
Absolute.
The Children of Atom exchanged glances.
Briggs' soldiers shifted formation behind Sico, smooth as clockwork. Rifles remained lowered, but nobody present doubted how quickly that could change.
The zealot looked past Sico at the farm.
At the growing wall.
At the Republic banners flying above the gate.
He was seeing the future.
And realizing it might not include his order.
"Our intentions were peaceful."
"Excellent. Keep them that way."
Avery folded her arms, satisfaction barely concealed.
The representative's jaw tightened.
He was not accustomed to being dismissed.
Especially not this thoroughly.
"You cannot isolate yourselves forever."
"We're literally building roads," Allen said. "Isolation seems unlikely."
Nobody had asked him.
Nobody ever did.
Sico's expression remained unreadable.
"If your leader wishes to discuss coexistence, she may request a meeting."
"High Confessor Tektus does not request."
"Then he may reconsider."
A long pause followed.
The wind hissed through the unfinished scaffolding.
Somewhere behind them, a hammer resumed striking steel.
Work continuing.
Life continuing.
As if this interruption were merely another task to manage.
The representative finally inclined his head.
A gesture balanced carefully between courtesy and resentment.
"I will report what I have seen."
"Do that."
"And what should I tell the Confessor?"
Sico looked out across the harbor, then back at him.
"Tell him Far Harbor is no longer alone."
That landed.
Hard.
The zealot understood exactly what it meant.
Not just soldiers.
Not just weapons.
Alliance.
Industry.
Resources.
A future worth defending.
The Children of Atom had spent years treating Far Harbor like a candle flickering in the wind.
Now they were staring at a furnace.
The representative stepped back.
"We will speak again."
"Perhaps under friendlier circumstances."
"Perhaps."
He turned sharply.
His followers moved with him, robes snapping in the wind as they retreated down the western road.
Not fleeing.
Not quite.
But definitely leaving faster than they had arrived.
Allen watched until they disappeared into the mist.
Then he exhaled.
"Well, that was almost unpleasant."
Avery turned toward Sico.
"They're going to report everything."
"That was the intention."
Briggs nodded.
"Let them."
Harris grinned.
"I'd pay good caps to hear that conversation."
"'High Confessor, Far Harbor has acquired walls, farms, armored vehicles, and a man who looks personally offended by inefficiency.'"
Allen pointed.
"That's exactly how it'll go."
The tension broke.
Laughter rolled across the field.
Not nervous laughter.
Confident laughter.
The kind that comes when danger leaves instead of staying.
Marla slapped dirt from her gloves.
"Well, if the glowing lunatics are done, I've got crops to save."
That, apparently, settled the matter.
Within minutes, work resumed.
Hammers rang again.
Shovels bit into earth.
The field returned to life.
Only now, there was a new energy beneath it.
Pride.
The people of Far Harbor had not faced the Children of Atom alone.
They had stood together.
Harbor folk.
Republic soldiers.
Builders.
Farmers.
One community.
Avery remained beside Sico as the last of the zealots vanished.
"You timed that entrance deliberately."
"Yes."
"It was annoyingly effective."
"I have many talents."
"Modesty isn't one."
"That would be wasteful."
She laughed softly.
Then her expression grew serious.
"They've never backed down that quickly before."
"They've never seen twenty trained soldiers, armored transports, and a settlement expanding faster than their assumptions."
Avery looked toward the farm.
Children had already returned to inspecting the tiny green shoot.
As if religious ultimatums were merely weather.
"Things really are changing."
"Yes."
"For better?"
Sico watched Marla direct her crew, Briggs coordinate patrols, workers raising steel against the sky.
He thought of Albert at sea.
Of the Bridgekeepers.
Of seeds beneath wet soil.
Of people who had finally begun to plan beyond next week.
"Yes," he said.
"For better."
The rest of the day passed without further interruption.
Patrols were increased, naturally.
Briggs doubled the western observation posts.
A Humvee took station overlooking the road.
Nobody expected immediate violence.
But hope and preparedness were excellent companions.
By evening, another seventy meters of wall had been raised.
The farm had expanded by three additional rows.
And the first tiny sprouts were joined by several more.
Green against dark earth.
Life against wasteland.
At sunset, Sico stood once more at the edge of the field.
The sky burned orange over the sea.
Lanterns flickered to life along the construction line.
Avery joined him, hands buried in her coat.
"Think they'll come back?"
"The Children of Atom?"
She nodded.
"Almost certainly."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"It concerns me."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
He looked toward the western road, where mist was already reclaiming the path.
"Concern prepares. Fear paralyzes."
Avery considered that.
Then smiled.
"I really should start writing these down."
"Please don't."
Behind them, Far Harbor continued its transformation.
Walls rising.
Fields growing.
People laughing.
A town becoming something larger.
Something stronger.
And somewhere out in the Fog, the Children of Atom were carrying news back to their leader.
______________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-