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Around them, soldiers relaxed fractionally, instructors calling drills back into motion. Settlers began to talk again, voices low but animated.
The day after the vertibirds left Sanctuary felt different.
Not quieter.
Not louder.
Sharper.
It was the kind of morning where even familiar sounds seemed to carry intent. Boots on concrete echoed a fraction longer. Radios crackled more often. Conversations dropped a register lower, not from fear, but from instinct. The Commonwealth had watched two powers face each other in the open and walk away without blood, and that kind of moment didn't fade overnight.
It settled.
Sico felt it before anyone said it out loud.
He stood at the edge of the upper balcony outside Freemasons HQ, watching the compound wake up. The training yards were already active again, recruits running drills under instructors who looked a little more alert than usual. Patrols rotated with crisp precision. Even the civilians moved differently that less hurried, more observant, eyes tracking uniforms and routes with new awareness.
Respect, yes.
But also calculation.
And that was the danger.
Power attracted attention. Attention attracted curiosity. And curiosity, in a region like the Commonwealth, inevitably attracted people who didn't come asking questions honestly.
Sico turned away from the railing and went back inside.
By the time he reached the conference room adjoining the Army HQ, Sarah and Preston were already there.
Sarah stood near the long table, arms folded, posture straight, eyes on a tactical display projected against the wall. Red and blue lines traced patrol routes, checkpoints, supply arteries. She looked like she hadn't slept much, but she didn't look tired. She looked keyed in, the way she always did when something needed fixing before it broke.
Preston sat on the edge of the table, hat set aside for once, elbows resting on his knees. He was quiet, but his eyes were moving constantly, flicking from map to door to Sarah and back again. The kind of quiet that wasn't emptiness, but listening.
Sico closed the door behind him.
The soft click echoed louder than it should have.
"We need to talk," he said.
Sarah glanced up. "About the Brotherhood."
"Yes," Sico replied. "About what comes after yesterday."
Preston straightened. "I figured this was coming."
Sico moved to the head of the table but didn't sit. He rested his hands on the edge, grounding himself in the cool metal.
"Maxson didn't come here to threaten us," Sico said. "He came to measure us."
Sarah nodded. "And now he knows we're not bluffing."
"He also knows," Sico continued, "that we didn't overreach."
Preston frowned slightly. "Which means he'll stop testing us openly."
"And start testing us quietly," Sico finished.
That landed.
Sarah's jaw tightened. "Spies."
"Yes," Sico said. "Observers. Infiltrators. Call them whatever you want."
He exhaled slowly.
"Maxson is disciplined," he continued. "He won't waste vertibirds circling our airspace anymore. He'll want information. Patterns. Weak points."
Preston rubbed his hands together once. "Supply routes. Patrol schedules. Training rotations."
"Weapon stockpiles," Sarah added. "Maintenance cycles. Fuel consumption."
"And people," Sico said. "Always people."
He straightened.
"I want patrols around the border bolstered immediately," he said. "Not heavier. Smarter."
Sarah tilted her head. "Define smarter."
"More overlap," Sico replied. "No blind gaps. Irregular timing. No route that runs the same way twice in a row."
She nodded, already thinking ahead. "We can stagger rotations and randomize handoffs. It'll strain the troops a bit, but not dangerously."
"That's acceptable," Sico said. "I don't want predictability."
Preston leaned forward. "You're worried about infiltration through the border?"
"Through the border," Sico said. "Through the caravans. Through refugees. Through traders who suddenly found courage."
He met Preston's eyes.
"I don't want paranoia," he said. "But I do want awareness."
Preston nodded slowly. "Increased check-ins."
"Yes," Sico said. "Everyone who comes in or out of Sanctuary gets logged. Not interrogated. Logged."
Sarah frowned slightly. "That's a big shift."
"It's a necessary one," Sico replied. "Maxson didn't accuse us yesterday. He warned us."
Preston thought about that.
"He said he'd monitor us," Preston said.
"Yes," Sico agreed. "And monitoring starts with eyes on the ground."
Sarah turned fully toward the table now, arms unfolding as she gestured toward the map.
"We can expand checkpoint protocols," she said. "Add secondary verification. Not just identity, but with movement patterns."
"Exactly," Sico said. "Who comes in. How often. Who they talk to. Where they linger."
Preston raised an eyebrow. "That's a thin line."
"It is," Sico acknowledged. "Which is why we walk it carefully."
He looked between them.
"I don't want this to become a police state," he said. "The moment people feel hunted, we lose what makes us different."
Sarah met his gaze evenly. "And the moment we let our guard down, we invite someone else to decide our future."
Sico nodded. "Which is why balance matters."
He paused, then added quietly, "Maxson understands balance. That's what worries me."
Preston let out a breath. "He's not going to send paladins in disguise."
"No," Sico said. "He'll send people who look harmless."
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Scribes."
"Possibly," Sico said. "Or former settlers sympathetic to the Brotherhood. Caravan guards paid in advance. People who don't wear power armor, but carry information."
Preston scratched the back of his neck. "We've already had Brotherhood sympathizers before."
"Yes," Sico said. "But never this visible. Never this openly respected."
He gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the world outside.
"Yesterday," he continued, "the Commonwealth saw us stand toe-to-toe with the Brotherhood and not fold."
Sarah understood immediately. "Which makes us a target."
"And a prize," Preston added.
Sico nodded once.
"I want you both to understand something," he said. "Maxson doesn't need to destroy us to neutralize us. He just needs to know us better than we know him."
Sarah leaned back slightly, considering.
"So," she said, "you want counterintelligence."
"Yes," Sico replied. "But quietly."
Preston smiled faintly. "That's always the trick."
Sico moved to the side of the room and activated another display. This one showed Sanctuary itself from its neighborhoods, trade hubs, residential zones, workshops, farms.
"I don't want soldiers interrogating settlers," Sico said. "That creates resentment."
"So who does the watching?" Preston asked.
"The community," Sico replied.
Sarah frowned. "You're going to deputize civilians?"
"No," Sico said quickly. "I'm going to empower them."
He turned back to them.
"People notice things," he said. "They always have. Strangers asking the wrong questions. Someone sketching patrol routes. Someone lingering near armories."
Preston nodded slowly. "They just don't always know who to tell."
"Exactly," Sico said. "We fix that."
Sarah's eyes sharpened. "Anonymous reporting."
"Yes," Sico said. "And clear boundaries. No witch hunts. No accusations without cause."
Preston exhaled. "That'll help."
Sico returned to the table and finally sat.
"I also want increased border patrol presence," he said. "Not just soldiers. Scouts. Spotters."
Sarah made a note on her datapad. "We can rotate Minutemen-trained scouts into that role."
"That's good," Sico said. "They know how to watch without being seen."
Preston glanced at him. "You're convinced Maxson will send spies."
Sico didn't hesitate.
"He didn't fly five vertibirds into our yard for nothing," he said. "He wanted to see how we react under pressure."
"And now he'll want to know how we think," Sarah said.
"Yes," Sico replied. "And how we move. How we supply. How we rest."
Preston sighed. "He'll want our weaknesses."
"Everyone does," Sico said. "The difference is whether they plan to exploit them or just prepare for them."
Sarah folded her arms again. "And you think Maxson's doing both."
"I think," Sico said carefully, "that Maxson believes he's protecting humanity."
Preston looked at him sharply.
"And?"
"And that makes him dangerous," Sico said. "Because people like that don't see spying as betrayal. They see it as responsibility."
Silence settled over the room.
Outside, a training whistle blew. Recruits shouted responses in unison.
Life went on.
Sarah broke the silence first.
"All right," she said. "We'll do this cleanly."
She tapped her datapad. "Border patrols get expanded coverage. Checkpoints updated. Entry and exit logs standardized."
Preston nodded. "I'll talk to the Minutemen. Get scouts positioned where they can watch without being obvious."
"And the civilians?" Sarah asked.
"I'll handle that," Preston said. "We already have trust channels. We frame it as protection, not suspicion."
Sico watched them both.
"This only works," he said, "if we stay who we are."
Sarah met his gaze. "We will."
Preston smiled faintly. "We've come too far not to."
Sico stood again.
"One more thing," he said.
They both looked at him.
"I want audits," Sico said. "Internal."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"
"Everything," Sico replied. "Supplies. Patrol logs. Weapons inventories."
Preston frowned. "You think there's already a leak?"
"I think," Sico said, "that assuming there isn't is how leaks start."
Sarah considered that, then nodded. "All right. Quiet audits. No blame. Just verification."
"Good," Sico said.
He moved toward the door, then paused.
"I don't want fear running this place," he added. "Fear makes people sloppy."
Preston stood. "Then we don't let it."
Sico opened the door and stepped back into the hallway.
The building felt the same.
But it wasn't.
Later that afternoon, Sanctuary adjusted.
Not visibly.
Not dramatically.
Patrols shifted routes. Checkpoints added a second layer of review that looked like paperwork but functioned like pattern recognition. Scouts took longer routes along the outskirts, stopping where they hadn't before, listening instead of moving.
Caravans still came and went.
Refugees were still welcomed.
But questions were asked more carefully now.
Names were remembered.
Faces lingered in minds longer.
In the market district, Preston walked among traders like he always had, nodding, chatting, listening. He didn't ask about the Brotherhood.
He didn't need to.
People talked anyway.
About strangers asking about fuel depots.
About a man who lingered near the armory too long.
About a trader who knew an odd amount about patrol schedules for someone who claimed to be new.
Preston listened.
Sarah spent the afternoon reviewing logs, comparing them to movement reports. She caught small things—nothing dramatic, just inconsistencies. A crate logged twice. A patrol that returned five minutes earlier than expected.
Nothing alarming.
Everything instructive.
And Sico?
Sico watched.
He stood again at the balcony as evening approached, the sky painted in soft orange and gray. Sanctuary glowed below him, lights coming on one by one, a constellation of human stubbornness refusing to go dark.
He could still hear Maxson's voice in his head.
You've changed the tone of this region.
Yes, he had.
And tone changes invited response.
Somewhere beyond the hills, the Brotherhood would be talking.
Not about tanks.
Not about soldiers.
But about systems.
About routines.
About cracks.
Sico rested his hands on the railing.
"Send your spies," he murmured quietly to no one. "Just remember."
He looked down at Sanctuary.
"We're watching too."
The Republic didn't close its doors.
It simply learned how to see who walked through them.
The evening didn't end when the sun slipped behind the trees.
For Sanctuary, it never really did anymore.
Lights burned late in workshops and barracks, a soft industrial glow threading through the town like veins. Generators hummed steadily. Radios crackled with low, disciplined chatter. It wasn't urgency. It was readiness with the kind that settled into muscle memory when people understood that survival wasn't about reacting fast, but about never being caught flat-footed.
Sico didn't go home.
Instead, he walked.
He left Freemasons HQ alone, jacket pulled on against the cooling air, boots taking him along the reinforced path that curved away from the residential district and toward the industrial quarter that had grown steadily over the last year. It wasn't loud out here, but it wasn't quiet either. Metal rang softly. Presses thumped in slow, patient rhythms. The smell of oil and heated steel clung to the air.
The weapons, armor, and ammunition factory sat at the edge of Sanctuary's protected interior, close enough to the heart of the settlement to be defended quickly, far enough away that an accident wouldn't rip through homes and markets. It had started small from a small factory, a handful of benches, salvaged tools and stubborn ambition.
Now it was something else.
Floodlights illuminated the outer walls. Guards stood at the perimeter, not rigid, but alert, recognizing Sico immediately and nodding as he passed. Inside, the factory breathed like a living thing.
Sico paused just inside the main doors.
Rows of workstations stretched before him, each alive with activity. Armor plates lay cooling on racks, their edges clean, reinforced seams catching the light. Ammunition presses clicked and clattered with mechanical patience, brass casings feeding through in precise rhythm. Weapon frames rested in cradles while technicians adjusted tolerances by hand, faces set in expressions of focus that bordered on reverence.
No one rushed.
No one slacked.
This wasn't mass production the way the old world had done it. This was careful, deliberate creation, every piece made by people who understood exactly what it meant when something failed in the field.
The head of the factory, Mara Holt, noticed him almost immediately.
She wiped her hands on a cloth as she approached, grease streaked along her forearms, hair pulled back tight. Her eyes were sharp, tired in the way that came from responsibility rather than exhaustion.
"Didn't expect you tonight," she said. Not accusing. Just honest.
Sico offered a faint smile. "I didn't expect to be here either."
Mara glanced past him, then back again. "Vertibirds change schedules."
"They do," Sico agreed.
She gestured for him to walk with her, and they moved through the factory floor together. Workers glanced up, nodding respectfully before returning to their tasks. No one stopped what they were doing. That told Sico everything he needed to know about discipline here.
They passed a rack of newly completed combat rifles, matte-finished, sturdy, unadorned. Tools meant to work, not impress.
"You're expanding again," Sico said.
Mara snorted softly. "We never stopped."
She motioned toward a section where new machinery was being installed with salvaged frames rebuilt, motors reconditioned, old-world tech coaxed back into usefulness.
"We're running near capacity," she said. "Ammo's the tightest. Always is. Brass, powder, primers, it's a balancing act."
Sico stopped walking.
"That's what I wanted to talk about," he said.
Mara turned to face him fully now.
"Let me guess," she said. "You want more."
"Yes," Sico replied simply. "As much as we can manage."
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "That's not a small ask."
"I know," he said. "Which is why I'm not giving an order."
She studied him for a moment, then gestured toward a quieter corner near a stack of armor plating. The background noise faded just enough to make conversation easier.
"Tell me why," Mara said.
Sico didn't posture. He didn't soften it.
"Because yesterday," he said, "the Brotherhood saw what we can field."
Mara nodded once. "And today they'll want to know what you can sustain."
"Yes," Sico said. "Deterrence only works if it doesn't blink."
She crossed her arms. "Ramping up production means longer shifts. More strain on equipment. Higher risk of mistakes."
"I won't push you into recklessness," Sico said. "But I want us prepared."
Mara exhaled slowly.
"You think war's coming."
"I think," Sico said carefully, "that uncertainty is."
She tilted her head. "That's a dangerous middle ground."
"It is," he agreed. "Which is why readiness matters."
Mara looked back out over her factory. Over the people working benches and presses, the ones who trusted her to keep them safe while they built the tools that kept everyone else safe.
"I can increase output," she said slowly. "But not overnight."
"I'm not asking for overnight," Sico replied. "I'm asking for commitment."
She nodded. "We can add a third shift on ammo. Slow it, careful. Expand armor plate runs and focus on repairs and replacements first, new sets second."
"Do it," Sico said. "Prioritize sustainability."
She glanced back at him. "Weapons?"
"Maintain quality," Sico said without hesitation. "Quantity means nothing if it fails when it matters."
That earned him a faint smile.
"You always say that," Mara said.
"And you always agree," he replied.
She sighed, then extended a hand. "All right. We ramp up. But you give me one thing."
"Name it."
"No secrecy from my people," she said. "They don't need details, but they need honesty. If they think this is panic, morale dips."
Sico shook her hand firmly. "You'll have it."
She nodded once more. "Then we'll do our part."
As Sico turned to leave, Mara called after him.
"Sico."
He paused.
"You planning to need all of this?" she asked, not accusing, just measuring.
Sico looked back at the factory, at the people who would spend long hours shaping metal and brass into quiet promises.
"I'm planning," he said, "to make sure we don't."
He left the factory with the weight of that decision settling into his shoulders.
The night air felt colder as he walked back through Sanctuary, though he knew it was just his perception shifting. Lights reflected off reinforced paths. Guards changed shifts with quiet efficiency. Somewhere, laughter drifted from a communal hall that brief, defiant, alive.
This was what he was protecting.
He didn't head home next.
Instead, he made his way toward one of the oldest buildings in Sanctuary, the one that had been rebuilt more times than anyone could count. The one whose doors were always open, whose interior was always cluttered with half-finished projects and brilliant improvisations.
Sturges' workshop.
The lights were on, as always. Sparks flared intermittently as Sturges leaned over a workbench, goggles down, welding something that looked like it might one day be useful or might just explode spectacularly.
Sico leaned against the doorframe and waited.
After a moment, Sturges noticed him and lifted his goggles, blinking.
"Well," Sturges said, grin spreading. "If it isn't the man of the hour."
Sico smiled faintly. "I was hoping you'd still be awake."
"Awake?" Sturges laughed. "I ain't slept since before those vertibirds showed up."
He shut off the welder and set it aside, wiping his hands.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
Sico stepped inside.
"I need a checkpoint," he said. "One hundred meters from the main Sanctuary gate."
Sturges' grin faded, replaced by thoughtful focus.
"Permanent?"
"Yes."
He scratched his chin. "You're thinking layered defense."
"Observation," Sico corrected. "Control without pressure."
Sturges nodded slowly. "Smart distance. Close enough to support, far enough to catch trouble early."
"That's the idea," Sico said. "I want it solid. Reinforced. Nothing flashy."
Sturges chuckled. "Flashy gets shot."
"Exactly."
He walked over to a table cluttered with schematics and cleared a space with his forearm, sending papers fluttering.
"We can do a modular post," Sturges said, already thinking aloud. "Concrete base, steel plating. Elevated position for visibility. Two entry lanes, one exit. Passive sensors, nothing that screams 'military'."
Sico listened carefully.
"I want it to feel like a gate," he said. "Not a wall."
Sturges nodded. "People pass through gates. Walls make 'em nervous."
He grabbed a pencil and started sketching.
"We'll integrate it with the road," he continued. "Natural choke point. Guards can wave most folks through, stop who needs stopping without making a show of it."
"How fast?" Sico asked.
Sturges glanced up, eyes twinkling slightly. "You in a hurry?"
"I'd prefer it before anyone gets ideas."
Sturges grinned. "Then give me and my team two days."
Sico raised an eyebrow. "That fast?"
"You don't build half a town from scrap without learning to move," Sturges said. "We've got materials. We've got hands. We've got motivation."
Sico nodded. "You'll have whatever support you need."
Sturges hesitated, then lowered his voice.
"This about Brotherhood spies?" he asked quietly.
Sico didn't pretend otherwise. "Yes."
Sturges leaned back against the bench.
"Figures," he said. "Big boys don't like surprises."
"No," Sico agreed. "They like maps."
Sturges snorted. "Well, we'll give 'em one less blind spot."
He went back to his sketch, pencil moving faster now.
"Anything else?" he asked.
Sico considered it.
"Make sure there's space for conversation," he said finally. "Not just inspection."
Sturges looked up. "You want guards talking to people."
"I want people feeling seen," Sico replied. "That's how you notice when something's off."
Sturges nodded slowly. "Yeah. That tracks."
He tapped the paper. "We'll do it right."
Sico straightened. "Thank you."
Sturges waved him off. "That's what I'm here for."
As Sico turned to leave, Sturges called after him.
"Hey, Sico?"
He paused.
"You did good yesterday," Sturges said. "Not many folks could stare down five vertibirds and still sleep at night."
Sico smiled faintly. "I didn't sleep."
Sturges laughed. "Yeah. That tracks too."
Outside, the night had deepened. Stars glimmered faintly above Sanctuary, partially obscured by the soft glow of human effort below.
Sico walked slowly back toward the residential district, mind busy but steady.
Borders bolstered.
Production ramping up.
Checkpoints planned.
It wasn't escalation.
It was insurance.
And insurance, he knew, only felt unnecessary right up until the moment it wasn't.
Somewhere beyond the hills, Brotherhood scribes would be writing reports. Paladins would be discussing logistics. Elders would be weighing risk and reward.
They would talk about armor counts.
Ammo estimates.
Manpower projections.
What they wouldn't fully grasp was something harder to quantify.
That Sanctuary wasn't preparing for war.
It was preparing to refuse one.
Sico stopped once more, looking back toward the gate, imagining the checkpoint Sturges and his team would build standing watch a hundred meters out. Not a threat. Not a challenge.
The morning came with a different kind of quiet.
Not the uneasy stillness that followed the vertibirds' departure, and not the routine hum Sanctuary had settled into afterward. This was quieter in a way that felt earned, like the pause after work done well, before the next set of responsibilities demanded attention.
Two days had passed.
Two days of concrete being poured, steel being welded, circuits being tested, and hands working past fatigue because everyone understood what the checkpoint meant. It wasn't a symbol meant for speeches or banners. It was practical. Grounded. Built to last.
Sico stood at the edge of the main road just inside Sanctuary's gate, waiting.
Sarah was already there, helmet clipped to her belt, arms folded as she studied the road ahead. Her eyes tracked movement instinctively from guards rotating, a pair of traders approaching the outer perimeter, scouts checking sightlines farther out. She looked like someone reviewing a chessboard mid-game, already anticipating moves that hadn't been made yet.
Preston arrived moments later, stepping up beside them, Minutemen coat fluttering slightly in the morning breeze. He took off his hat briefly, rubbing his forehead before settling it back into place.
"Feels strange," he said quietly.
"Good strange or bad strange?" Sarah asked without looking at him.
"Necessary strange," Preston replied. "Which usually comes with both."
Sico nodded. "Let's see what Sturges built."
They walked together down the road, boots crunching softly against gravel and reinforced concrete. The distance wasn't long, just a hundred meters from the main gate but it felt deliberate. Every step forward placed the checkpoint clearly outside Sanctuary proper, separate but connected.
And then it came into full view.
The checkpoint didn't loom.
It didn't bristle.
It stood.
A solid, squared structure anchored into the road itself, concrete base poured deep and reinforced with steel ribs visible at the edges. The walls were plated in matte-finished metal that not polished, not intimidating, just durable. An elevated observation platform rose from the rear, offering a clear line of sight down the road and across the surrounding terrain without dominating it.
Two lanes split the road cleanly, marked by low barriers and clear signage that directed traffic naturally. One lane was wider, designed for caravans and trucks. The other narrower, for foot traffic and light vehicles. A third, smaller lane branched off discreetly to the side with an inspection bay shielded by angled walls that provided privacy without secrecy.
It looked… right.
Not like a fortress.
Not like a trap.
Like a place where people would stop, talk, pass through.
Sturges stood near the front, arms crossed, grease smudged across his cheek, a proud grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Around him, his team made final adjustments that tightening bolts, checking power connections, running last-minute diagnostics on sensors embedded subtly into the structure.
He spotted them and raised a hand.
"Well?" he called. "You gonna keep me in suspense, or what?"
Sico approached first, eyes scanning every detail. He didn't speak immediately. He walked the perimeter slowly, running his hand along the edge of a barrier, tapping once at a support beam, looking up at the observation platform.
Sarah circled the opposite side, checking angles, sightlines, potential blind spots. She crouched briefly, peering beneath the structure where the concrete met the earth.
Preston hung back a step, watching people more than the building with guards moving naturally into position, a pair of civilians pausing to look at the new structure with curiosity rather than fear.
Finally, Sico stopped in front of Sturges.
"You finished," he said.
Sturges grinned wider. "Two days, like I said."
Sarah straightened and walked over. "It's clean."
"That's the idea," Sturges replied. "Clean lines. No clutter. Nothing that makes folks nervous before they even open their mouths."
Preston nodded. "Feels… approachable."
Sturges pointed at the lanes. "Traffic flows easy. No bottlenecks unless you want one. Guards can stand in the open, talk to people face-to-face. No one shouting through slits or behind barricades."
He motioned toward the inspection bay. "And if something's off, you pull 'em aside quietly. No spectacle."
Sico climbed the stairs to the observation platform. From the top, the view stretched wide with road cutting through gentle rises, trees framing the horizon, clear sightlines far enough to spot trouble early without squinting.
He exhaled slowly.
"This works," he said.
Sturges relaxed visibly. "Good. Because my knees were starting to think I'm not twenty anymore."
Sarah joined Sico at the top, scanning the terrain. "You left room for expansion."
"Always," Sturges said. "You don't build something like this assuming it'll never need more."
Preston leaned against one of the support posts. "Power?"
"Independent generator," Sturges replied. "Solar assist. Redundant systems. If Sanctuary goes dark, this stays lit."
Sico descended the stairs and stood with them again.
"You did exactly what I asked," he said.
Sturges shrugged. "You asked right."
There was a moment of shared silence that not awkward, just reflective as they all took in what had been accomplished.
Then Sico spoke again, voice steady but carrying weight.
"This checkpoint needs people," he said.
Sarah turned to him immediately. "How many?"
Sico didn't hesitate.
"Seventy-five soldiers."
Preston's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Ten in power armor," Sico continued. "Rotational. Not all on display at once."
Sarah nodded, already calculating shifts.
"Four Humvees," Sico said. "Fast response. Patrol overlap."
"Six trucks," he added. "Logistics, troop movement, supply flexibility."
Preston whistled softly under his breath.
"Eight Growlers," Sico said. "Mobile fire support. Not aggressive positioning and held back, but ready."
Sarah's jaw tightened, not in disagreement, but focus.
"And two Sentinel tanks," Sico finished.
The air seemed to settle heavier around them.
Sturges blinked. "That's… substantial."
"It is," Sico agreed.
Preston crossed his arms. "You're making a statement."
"No," Sico said quietly. "I'm making a promise."
Sarah looked at him sharply. "To who?"
"To everyone," Sico replied. "That this road is protected. That this border is watched. That nobody walks into Sanctuary unseen."
Preston considered that. "And to the Brotherhood."
"Yes," Sico said. "But not just them."
He gestured down the road.
"Raiders. Opportunists. Anyone who thinks yesterday meant we're distracted."
Sarah nodded slowly. "This many assets concentrated here will draw attention."
"That's the point," Sico said. "Visible strength discourages quiet probing."
Sturges scratched his head. "You sure about the tanks being this close?"
"They're not here to intimidate," Sico said. "They're here to remind."
"Of what?" Preston asked.
"That escalation has a cost," Sico replied.
Sarah exhaled through her nose. "We'll need strict rules of engagement."
"Absolutely," Sico said. "No aggression. No provocation. This is a shield, not a spear."
Preston looked out toward the road again. "People are going to talk."
"They already are," Sico replied. "Let them."
Sturges glanced between them. "You know this makes this checkpoint one of the most heavily guarded spots in the region."
"Yes," Sico said. "And one of the safest."
Sarah straightened. "I'll organize rotations. Make sure the power armor presence doesn't feel oppressive."
Preston nodded. "I'll coordinate with the Minutemen. Make sure messaging stays consistent. This is about protection, not control."
Sico met both their eyes. "Good."
He turned back to the checkpoint, imagining it fully manned from guards talking with travelers, vehicles rolling through smoothly, power armor silhouettes visible but not looming, tanks positioned back just far enough to be unmistakable without being threatening.
It felt right.
Not because it was strong.
But because it was deliberate.
Sturges clapped his hands together once. "So. Anything you want changed?"
Sico shook his head. "No. You built exactly what Sanctuary needed."
Sturges smiled, pride plain on his face. "Then my work here's done."
"For now," Preston added with a grin.
Sturges laughed. "Yeah. For now."
They stood together a moment longer, watching as the first official patrol took position with soldiers moving with calm efficiency, checking in, settling into their posts. A trader approached cautiously, then relaxed as a guard greeted him with a nod and a few quiet words.
No shouting.
No tension.
Just order.
Sico felt something ease in his chest.
This wasn't fear driving Sanctuary forward.
It was foresight.
He turned to Sarah and Preston.
"This is how we hold the line," he said. "Not by pushing outward, but by standing firm."
Sarah nodded. "And watching closely."
Preston smiled faintly. "Guess the Commonwealth just got used to the idea that Sanctuary isn't guessing anymore."
Sico looked once more down the road, toward the unseen horizon where eyes would surely be watching back.
"Let them learn," he said quietly. "We're not hiding."
The checkpoint stood solid behind them, which is not a challenge or a threat. But it was declaration, carved in concrete and steel that say you may pass, but you will be seen.
______________________________________________
• 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:-