Fallout 4: Rebirth At Vault 81

Chapter 431: 397. Working On The Agitator



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The soldiers nodded, their resolve unshaken. As the convoy rolled out once more, Sico allowed himself a brief moment of relief. They'd faced impossible odds and emerged on the other side. But he knew the fight was far from over. The Commonwealth's future depended on them—and Sico wouldn't let it fall.

Sico wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing dirt and soot across his face as the convoy slowed to regroup after the explosive escape. The battlefield behind them was little more than scorched earth and smoldering ruins, the price paid to survive another encounter with the Brotherhood and the Institute.

He turned to Preston, who was walking through the ranks, helping wounded soldiers to their feet and rallying those still capable of fighting. "Preston!" Sico called, his voice cutting through the post-battle quiet.

Preston approached quickly, his rifle slung across his chest. His face was marked with exhaustion but still carried that steadfast resolve Sico had come to rely on. "General?"

Sico met his eyes, his expression firm but tinged with worry. "I need a count. How many wounded, how many… KIA?"

Preston gave a somber nod before walking off to gather the necessary numbers. Sico watched him move through the ranks, his gut twisting with a familiar weight. Every battle brought losses, and even one soldier down was too many for him. These people trusted him with their lives, and every time he ordered them into a fight, he felt that burden settle heavier on his shoulders.

Minutes passed like hours as Sico stood, scanning the convoy. Some soldiers sat on crates, clutching injuries or simply catching their breath, while others milled about, helping load supplies or check on the wounded. The Sentinels stood still now, their enormous frames like silent guardians amid the destruction.

Preston returned, a thin layer of sweat on his brow but relief in his voice. "General, good news. There's no KIA."

Sico blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "No KIA?"

Preston shook his head, allowing a small smile to break through. "No, sir. But we've got 20 wounded. Some serious, but nothing our medics can't handle."

Sico let out a long breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank God," he muttered, his shoulders loosening just slightly. It was rare—too rare—to come out of a battle like this without losing a single soldier. A small flicker of hope burned in his chest; maybe, just maybe, they were getting stronger. Better.

"Alright," Sico said, gathering himself. "Get the injured loaded up into the medical trucks. I want them treated immediately once we get to Sanctuary. Let's move."

Preston nodded and relayed the orders, soldiers springing into motion despite their weariness. The wounded were carefully helped into trucks, their comrades offering words of comfort and support as they worked. The rest of the convoy reorganized, engines rumbling back to life as Sico climbed into the lead Humvee once more.

Hancock plopped into the seat next to him, brushing dirt off his coat. "Well, that was a helluva dance we just pulled off. I'd say we earned a drink or two."

Sico allowed himself a smirk but shook his head. "When we're back at Sanctuary, maybe. Right now, I just want to get everyone home."

The convoy rolled out once more, the trucks, Sentinels, and Humvees forming a tight formation as they followed the cracked and ruined road back to Sanctuary. The journey was quieter now. The immediate danger had passed, but the tension lingered in the air like a stubborn fog. Sico kept his eyes trained on the road ahead, his grip tight around his rifle even though he knew it was unlikely they'd face another attack so soon. The Brotherhood and the Institute had hit them hard today—neither faction would be regrouping quickly.

The road stretched on, miles of desolate wasteland passing by in silence, broken only by the rumble of engines and the occasional muttered conversation among the soldiers. Sico's thoughts drifted as he scanned the horizon. He thought of the wounded in the trucks behind him, of Albert racing ahead with the agitator, and of the soldiers who'd fought tooth and nail to hold the line.

This battle had proven just how high the stakes had become. The Brotherhood and the Institute weren't just threats—they were relentless. And Sico knew this fight wasn't over. Far from it.

After two long, grueling hours, the convoy finally rolled over the bridge that led into Sanctuary. Sico's eyes widened slightly as he took in the scene before him. The settlement was on high alert. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter in pairs, their weapons at the ready, while the watchtowers stood fully manned, their occupants scanning the horizon with binoculars and mounted guns. Even from here, Sico could see the sharp focus in their eyes, the tension in their movements.

The gates swung open as the convoy approached, and Sico noticed that every Minuteman guarding the entrance was on edge, their fingers hovering near their triggers. It didn't take much to figure out why.

"Albert must've made it back," Sico muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "He's the only one who'd put the settlement on this kind of alert."

Hancock glanced out the window, tipping his hat back. "Well, he sure knows how to get folks to take things seriously. Can't say I'm complainin'."

As the convoy rolled into Sanctuary, the trucks, Sentinels, and Humvees fanned out into the courtyard. Medics were already waiting, rushing forward to unload the wounded and carry them into the makeshift clinic. Sico climbed out of the Humvee, his boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He took a moment to stretch, his muscles stiff and aching after the long ride, but his mind was already working.

"Preston!" he called, spotting his second-in-command dismounting nearby.

Preston jogged over, his expression alert. "General?"

"Help oversee the wounded and get those supplies into storage. I'll check in with Albert and get an update on the situation."

"On it, sir." Preston didn't hesitate, already moving to relay orders to the rest of the Minutemen.

Sico turned toward the main house, Sanctuary's central command post. As he walked, soldiers and settlers alike paused to acknowledge him, offering nods of respect or weary salutes. He returned each one with a nod of his own, silently reminding himself that their trust wasn't something to take lightly.

Inside the main house, he found Albert hunched over a workbench, surrounded by a mess of tools, diagrams, and half-assembled tech. The agitator sat in the center, its smooth metal casing glinting under the dim lights. Albert looked up as Sico entered, his face breaking into a mix of relief and concern.

"You made it," Albert said, straightening. "I wasn't sure if—"

"We made it," Sico interrupted, offering a small smile. "No losses. Twenty wounded, but no KIA. You did good getting back here in one piece."

Albert let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing just a little. "I couldn't risk the agitator falling into their hands. When I got back, I activated the high alert. Figured it was better to be safe than sorry."

"You did the right thing," Sico reassured him. He walked over to the workbench, eyeing the agitator carefully. "How's it holding up?"

"Still intact," Albert said, his voice growing more confident. "It'll need some fine-tuning, but it's functional. Once we deploy this thing, the Institute's teleportation tech won't be an issue anymore."

Sico nodded, the weight of that statement settling on him. "Good. Because after today, they'll be coming harder than ever. The Brotherhood, too. We bought ourselves some time, but we need to use it wisely."

Albert gave a firm nod. "Understood. I'll keep working on this. You should check in with the troops, though—they'll want to hear from you."

Sico clapped a hand on Albert's shoulder before turning to leave. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across Sanctuary. The settlement was alive with movement—soldiers unloading supplies, medics tending to the wounded, engineers checking on the Sentinels. Despite the exhaustion etched into every face, there was no sign of despair. Only determination.

Sico climbed onto a crate near the center of the courtyard, raising a hand to call for attention. The noise slowly died down as soldiers and settlers turned to face him, their expressions expectant.

"We fought hard today," Sico began, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "The Brotherhood and the Institute threw everything they had at us, but we held the line. We got our people out, we got the agitator back here, and we didn't lose a single soul. That's because of you. Every one of you fought like hell, and you should be proud of that."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. Sico let his gaze sweep over them, his chest swelling with pride. "But this fight isn't over. What we did today—it bought us time, but it also painted a target on our backs. The Brotherhood and the Institute know we're a threat, and they're not going to stop. So we won't stop either. We'll keep fighting. We'll keep building. And we'll make sure that when they come for us again, we're ready."

The crowd erupted into cheers, fists raised in solidarity. Sico stepped down from the crate, his heart steadied by the resolve he saw in their faces. These people were his family now, and he'd give everything to protect them.

As the cheers faded and everyone returned to their work, Sico allowed himself a moment to look up at the sky. The stars were just beginning to appear, faint against the fading light.

The next day, the sunlight broke through the remnants of the wasteland haze, spilling across Sanctuary like a hesitant promise of peace. The air still carried the faint scent of smoke and oil, remnants of the previous day's battle lingering on everything like a shadow. Yet the settlement was alive—soldiers training, engineers tinkering, settlers going about their work—all under the watchful eye of the Minutemen. There was an energy here, Sico thought, one born from purpose, not just survival. It was something they'd built together, and something worth fighting for.

After a restless night spent reviewing strategies and tossing in bed, Sico found himself making his way toward the science department. He walked with steady purpose, greeting soldiers and settlers with a small nod as he passed. Despite the growing exhaustion pulling at his limbs, he couldn't stop moving—not now, not with everything at stake. His mind was already racing with the tasks ahead: strengthening defenses, deploying scouts, checking supply lines. But today, his focus was clear.

Albert had told him the agitator needed fine-tuning, and Sico wasn't about to leave that work to chance.

The science department was housed in one of the largest buildings in Sanctuary, a sturdy structure that had been repurposed from an old pre-war workshop. Its walls were lined with cobbled-together machinery, blinking monitors, and scattered blueprints—an organized chaos that served as the heart of Sanctuary's technological progress. As Sico entered, the steady hum of equipment and faint crackle of electricity welcomed him like an old friend.

He found Albert hunched over a metal workbench near the back of the room, his face illuminated by the soft blue glow of a terminal screen. Mel, standing next to him, was mid-sentence, waving a wrench around as he spoke. Mel was taller than Albert, with graying stubble and sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed perpetually locked in thought. His grease-streaked lab coat told Sico he'd probably been at this all night.

"…if we stabilize the power core, we can avoid the energy spikes that caused the damage last time," Mel was saying, his tone clipped but focused.

Albert leaned back, scratching the back of his head as he mulled over Mel's words. "Maybe, but the output would still be unstable. We'd need to reroute the energy through a secondary circuit—one that could handle the surges."

Sico stepped forward, and both men looked up, startled. "Morning, gentlemen. Looks like you've been busy."

"General," Mel said, his tone carrying just a hint of dry amusement. "You're up early."

Sico offered a faint smile, stepping closer to the workbench. "Early's when the work gets done. How's it coming along?"

Albert pushed his glasses up his nose and gestured to the agitator sitting on the bench between them. The device, sleek and metallic, looked almost innocuous—a small miracle, considering the chaos it could prevent. "We've made progress," Albert said, though his voice carried the weight of uncertainty. "The agitator's functional, but it's not stable yet. There's too much energy coming through the core, and if we don't fix it, it could overload when we use it."

Sico frowned, crossing his arms as he studied the device. "What happens if it overloads?"

"It'll blow," Mel said bluntly, earning a sharp look from Albert. "Not literally—well, probably not literally. But it'll fry its own circuits, and we'll be back to square one."

"Which means we won't be able to block the Institute's teleportation tech," Sico muttered, his brows furrowing. He sighed, feeling the weight of the problem settle on his shoulders like a lead blanket. "How long do you need to fix it?"

Albert exchanged a glance with Mel before answering. "We're not sure yet. If we take the safe route—rerouting the energy and rebuilding the circuits—it could take a couple of days, maybe longer."

"And the unsafe route?" Sico asked, though he already knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

Mel grinned, but there was no humor in it. "We push the core as is and fine-tune it while it's running. Risky as hell, but it'd save us time."

"Or destroy the device," Albert added quickly, shooting Mel an annoyed glare. "We can't afford that, General. The agitator is too important. If we're going to deploy it, we need it to work."

Sico rubbed the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a headache teasing at his temples. Both men were right, in their own ways. Time wasn't on their side—the Brotherhood and the Institute weren't going to give them a break—but rushing this could cost them everything. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to think through the options.

"We take the safe route," he said finally, his voice firm. "I won't risk losing the agitator—not after everything we've been through to get it."

Mel raised an eyebrow but said nothing, clearly biting back whatever argument was on his tongue. Albert, on the other hand, looked visibly relieved. "Understood, General. We'll get to work rebuilding the circuits. It's going to take a lot of parts, though."

"What do you need?" Sico asked immediately.

"Conductors, wiring, cooling modules—basically anything that can handle high-energy transfer. We'll also need a new batch of fusion cells to test the output," Albert explained.

Sico nodded. "Make a list and get it to Preston. He'll organize a team to scavenge what you need. If we're missing anything, I'll pull a recon squad and find it myself."

"You got it," Albert said, already scribbling down a list of components on a scrap of paper.

As Albert worked, Sico turned to Mel, who was watching him with a mix of curiosity and respect. "You're a hell of a scientist," Sico said. "Glad you're on board."

Mel chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know if that's a compliment or a warning. But you're stuck with me now, so let's hope it's the first one."

Sico smirked, though the exhaustion in his bones made it faint. "We'll make it work."

Albert finished writing and handed the list to Sico, who took it with a quick nod. "I'll get this to Preston now. You two keep at it, and let me know the second you hit a wall."

"You'll be the first to know," Albert promised.

Sico turned and left the workshop, stepping back out into the sunlit courtyard. The list of components felt heavier in his hand than it should have, but that was how everything felt these days—heavy. The Brotherhood, the Institute, the agitator… it was all pressing down on him like a storm waiting to break. But he didn't have the luxury of feeling overwhelmed. Not when so many people were depending on him.

He spotted Preston near the watchtower, talking to a group of scouts. Sico made his way over, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust as he walked. Preston noticed him immediately, straightening as Sico approached.

"General," Preston greeted, his tone sharp with attention.

Sico handed him the list. "Albert and Mel need these parts to stabilize the agitator. I need you to organize a scavenging team and get this done. Prioritize anything we can't fabricate here."

Preston took the list, scanning it quickly. "Understood. I'll have the team ready within the hour."

"Good," Sico said. He glanced at the scouts behind Preston. "I want you to send a few squads out farther than usual. The Brotherhood and the Institute are licking their wounds right now, but it won't last. We need to know where they are and what they're planning."

Preston nodded. "We'll stay out of sight, but I'll make sure we get eyes on them."

Sico clapped a hand on Preston's shoulder. "I knew I could count on you."

As Preston turned to relay the orders, Sico allowed himself to pause, just for a moment. He looked out over Sanctuary, at the soldiers training near the barracks, at the medics tending to the recovering wounded, at the settlers carrying on with their lives despite the danger outside their walls. It wasn't perfect—not by a long shot—but it was theirs. A place they'd fought for, built together, and protected with their lives.

Sico knew the road ahead was long, and the battles would only get harder. The Brotherhood and the Institute wouldn't stop until they'd crushed everything the Minutemen had built. But that wasn't going to happen—not on his watch. They had the agitator, and soon it would be ready. That would tip the scales, give them the edge they so desperately needed.

Until then, he'd do what he always did. He'd keep fighting.

Turning back toward the science department, Sico squared his shoulders and kept moving. There was work to be done, and he'd see it through—no matter what it took.

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• 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:-


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