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Maxson knew she wouldn’t do it. Danse, the synth, was her partner. As much as the two tried to hide it, all the Prydwen knew they’d been together. There were no secrets in the Brotherhood, and the bump on the Knight’s stomach, when she dared to step out of her armor, hadn’t gone unnoticed. She would have to be annexed, she harbored the child of a synth in her womb and now she stood, defiant against the High Elder. The matte blue steel of her armor was shining like blades in the rain, alight by the rumbling dashes of lightning daring to split the dark sky. She had her weapon drawn, and Maxson knew if it came down to it, she would defend her mate regardless of what he-it-was. Love was fickle like that, Sarah would have understood, then again Sarah would have had mercy on the synths. He didn’t. Arthur had the love of his life stripped from him as a Squire and he was unable to show empathy because of it now. He had nothing; not his mentor and crush, not his most valued brother, not his most esteemed Knight. Nothing, and the sudden, agitated rattling of her armor showed that if he took another step forwards, he would be lost for his life as well. Danse would never forgive her if she opened fire first, and Maxson used that knowledge against her.
“After everything I’ve done, all the battles if fought for the Brotherhood. I deserve to be listened too. You owe me that much.” She didn’t believe he would think such a statement to be true, but the quiet hum of Righteous Authority and her fiery glare standing out against the rain was more her driving point.
How dare she think that her fulfilling her duty put him in her debt. Perhaps the promotion he’d promised her would be delivered with the barrel of a pistol and a bullet through that tainted mind. “I’m listening”
“if you kill-no-murder him, you loose me too. I can’t continue to fight for you in good conscience knowing his life means so little to you.”
There it was, her treachery was laced around him like spider’s gossamer and he was ensnared in it. To loose her as an asset, before the fall of the Institute, would be catastrophic for his cause. Not only would it be a pit of quicksand to halt the momentum his forces had in their struggle but, He’d seen her other suit of power armor left on the Prydwen’s station. He’d seen the X-01 suits her Minutemen leaders were adorned in, much better than what he supplied his own with. If it came down to it, the faction she lead stood at least a fighting chance against his own. Especially knowing Sanctuary provided its own food supply. She could starve them out, and in her mind it would be just as well, so long as she protected her mate. They would have to fall back to the Capital Wastes, and a Maxson did not retreat. Except for now, Arthur backpedaled and shook with anger, or was that fear “I can’t believe you would be willing to sacrifice your career for a machine. It can't love you, Knight! It isn’t a man.”
She stiffened in her armor, and a hand bumped against her torso plating. This woman had the congratulations of the Brotherhood when it was discovered she carried the Paladin’s child. Now she would harbor hatred from all who looked at her. The child of a synth. A child that shouldn’t exist.
“I can’t believe you would throw away a perfectly capable soldier, a living, breathing, feeling person, because of 2 ounces of plastic.”
“Flesh is flesh, machine is machine. The two were never meant to mix.”
At this, she stepped from her suit, the hydraulic hiss matching the snarling hiss of her prosthetic as rain pattered on the heated white plates “What of me, Elder?” she raised her hand, purely mechanical “What of this? Am I an abomination because of this? Am I not more made of metal than Danse?”
The Elder had spoken himself into a corner, and nearly stepped back when the round bellied woman stepped forward again. Her red hair had faded now, almost orange where it wasn’t her natural deep brown, like a dying fire in the rain, and she ran a hand through it to keep the wet strands from her eyes “Elder look at me. Do you see my state?”
Anyone could, she was heavily pregnant, six months at least, and Maxson saw the panic flicker across Danse’s eyes when his lover approached him.
“Cole, don’t get any closer. Please.” worry was a new sound on Dans-the synth's voice, it made Arthur uneasy.
Like the well trained soldier she was, she froze under Danse’s orders. If only she were able to follow so well under the Elder’s. Nicole heaved a sigh, organic hand covering her stomach like she expected an attack on the unborn child.
“It appears were at an impasse.”
“Fortunately, no, we aren’t. Your soldiers will suffer and starve without mine tending extra crops with yours in mind. Your people provide little protection beyond what mine already offered, and the only reason your ship hasn’t starved is because of my intervention and claim over the farms I built myself.” She stepped backwards, feeling exposed without her armor “And if you believe that I will not retract my goodwill towards the Brotherhood then you are sadly mistaken, sir.”
Her point had been made, and she withdrew deeply into the pit of her armor, the machine folding around her like a cocoon “I would do anything to protect my family. Anything”
Wage war. Kill people. Rend the earth to a smoldering pit.
Once again, she stepped between the two men, headlamps blazing down a hot white trail through the rain and making the Elder’s head ache from the brightness. The synth had slowly retreated back into the post, leaving his mate and his former friend alone. At this point it was their standoff, he had no part to play. The elevator rumbled down, and the former Paladin was safely tucked away under layers of earth and concrete. A flash of red struck against the outer wall. A blazing mark was left on the concrete, and Maxson looked at her slightly bewildered. She had shot off a precious round behind her, seemingly at nothing whatsoever.
“He would think you shot first. Now get lost before we finish this the messy way.” Her rifle found itself leveled at the Elder’s head, a slow advance shaking the sticky puddles that pooled under her footprints.
A point of security on her part. Danse would understand defending herself and their child, even if it meant killing the Elder. She was a liar, a plotter, a deceiver, and everything that was a tactician in the young Elder applauded her foresight. As it was in this case, she was a victor; a champion who fought with her tongue and assets, as well as a long barreled rifle. She would have made an amazing Maxson.
“If you are seen with him by any Brotherhood patrols, you will both be fired upon. But we will not hunt him. Say your goodbyes and return to the Prydwen as soon as you are done.” The Elder turned on his heel, the bottom seams of his coat flicking water out in a circular spray as he pivoted.
Then he paused, blue eyes almost white as they reflected the lighting streaking across the dimming sky “And congratulations on your promotion, Paladin.” The last word was nearly spat out of his mouth like bile.
“Sir.” Clipped, astute, almost respectful but lined with barbed edges.
So long as Paladin Spencer lived, she would loathe the Elder, and he would her just the same. As Maxson stalked off, the sights of her rifle followed him, up the stairs that his boots slipped on and into the Vertibird. Maxson watched through the spray of rain cast aside by the helicopter blades as the woman headed towards a small settlement not too far from the bunker. She would gather supplies and stumble back to the base, drenched and shivering, into the arms of the synth. The machine would be loved like he never would be, and the new Paladin would still bare the spawn of something that was once his most decorated soldier.
Paladin Spencer would have made Sarah proud, and that, at least, Maxson could respect.