The Minutemen gathered at the ruined diner, nerves tight as the sea breeze pushed smoke across the cracked asphalt. Charlie squad under Nate readied for the breach, rifles primed. Delta squad under Preston checked the weight of the missile tubes on their shoulders, uneasy with the bulk but trusting the commander's judgment.
Nate raised an eyebrow when he saw them."Preston, why the heavy weapons? Expecting the worst?"
Preston's answer was simple, steady."Commander Sarah's suggestion."
Out by the convoy, Sarah remained with the AR Team, guarding the supplies from curious eyes. SOPMOD leaned on the Humvee's hood, frowning at the distant smoke curling above the seawall."Awww, I wanted to join the fun too. Boo, Commander—you meanie."Sarah didn't even look at her. "Security stays security."M16A1 exhaled smoke from her cigarette. "Discipline saves ammo."SOPMOD huffed, arms crossed.
The first stage went as expected—loud, dirty, and costly in sweat. The Minutemen stormed the courtyard with rifles and shotguns, clearing out the hatchlings that spilled from broken masonry. Smoke from the flamethrower squads rolled through the ruined bastion, choking the nests and turning the smaller creatures to ash.
But as the men pushed deeper, the truth of the Castle revealed itself. Every corner, every sunken chamber, was filled with nest mounds and clusters of eggs, some already splitting with movement inside. The Minutemen set to smashing them apart with rifle butts and shovels, flames licking across the slick shells. The courtyard rang with popping, hissing, the crunch of boots over brittle husks.
That was when the ground trembled.
A low, guttural roar rose from the eastern seawall, followed by a spray of brine and acid. The Mirelurk Queen burst from the surf, towering over the shattered ramparts, her claws scattering stone as she clawed into the courtyard. The first wave of acid caught a squad mid-swing, screams rising as their armor hissed and melted. Men went down clutching burning flesh.
"Delta team—now!" Nate's voice cut across the din.
Preston's launcher squad reacted instantly, dropping to one knee. The first salvo streaked skyward, two rockets slamming into the Queen's carapace. The impact rang like thunder, cracking and shattering the chitinous shell along her abdomen. Black ichor poured across the courtyard stones.
The Queen shrieked, staggering back, her massive bulk smashing through a nest mound as she lurched toward the eastern wall. She spat another wave of acid in frustration, but it splashed harmlessly across broken masonry. Then, slowly, she turned and began to retreat, dragging her wounded body back into the surf. The water frothed red and black as she vanished beneath the waves.
For a long moment, no one moved. Only the smoke and the hiss of acid filled the air. Then, one by one, the Minutemen realized: the Castle was theirs.
Preston strode to a young recruit who had kept the folded banner safe through the fight. Taking the flag in both hands, he climbed what remained of the courtyard's central bastion. With a shove, the pole planted deep into cracked stone, and the flag unfurled in the sea breeze. Blue and gold, ragged but proud, it flew again above the Castle's walls for the first time in two centuries.
Cheers rose through the ranks, echoing across the broken fortress. Even the wounded lifted their voices, carried by the moment.
Meanwhile, Nate pushed through the smoke into the old radio room. With Preston at his side, he threw the master breaker, and ancient capacitors groaned back to life. A second later, the static cleared and the familiar voice of Radio Freedom crackled through the battered loudspeakers.
"This is Radio Freedom, broadcasting from the Castle once again. All Minutemen, keep your radios tuned for updates—we're back."
The cheer that followed was deafening.
Sarah, watching from the ridge with AR Team holding her convoy secure, allowed herself the faintest smile. The Commonwealth had just been given a rallying point—and this time, the Minutemen had teeth.
The Castle's courtyard bustled with new life as Minutemen hauled rubble, patched breaches, and buried the dead. Preston directed squads to clear chambers, while Radio Freedom's steady signal carried hope across the Commonwealth. Yet amid the cheers, Sarah's attention remained elsewhere.
Her earpiece crackled. UMP45: "Commander, eyes on the Queen. Eastbound. She's dragging herself toward Spectacle Island. Just like you said."Sarah exhaled through her teeth. "Copy. Let it pass. Do not engage, i repeat, do not engage."
As she stepped out from the ruined diner, Paladin Danse approached, his power armor hissing as servos locked. He raised a fist over his chestplate."Commander Sierra. Congratulations. This victory… it is no small feat."
Sarah shook her head firmly. "Save it for them." She nodded toward the Minutemen raising fresh barricades. "This is their banner, their fight. I only kept the supply lines breathing."
Danse tilted his head, as if weighing the words, but said nothing. His visor reflected the Castle's flag, rippling proud against the horizon.
Sarah's tone shifted low, clipped. "Tell Maxson I want a private audience. Boston Airport. Myself, General Nate, and one civilian witness." Her gaze slid toward the reporter lingering too close to the work crews. "Piper Wright."
Danse hesitated. "That is… unusual."
Sarah's hand signaled behind her back, subtle as a heartbeat. AR Team caught the cue immediately. Two of them broke off in a casual sweep, circling Piper. She barely had time to look up before SOPMOD and M4 flanked her, steering her toward the waiting vertibird with smiles sharp as knives.
"Wha—hey! What's this about?" Piper protested, but SOPMOD only winked. "Congratulations, you just got embedded press clearance."
Danse keyed his comms. "This is Paladin Danse. Requesting priority channel to the Prydwen. Relay: Sierra requests audience with Elder Maxson. Private meeting. Two escorts, one civilian witness."
The reply came almost too quickly, cold and formal through his speakers."Request acknowledged. Elder Maxson grants permission. Proceed to Boston Airport."
Team 404's shadow fell across the courtyard as their vertibird swept back from patrol, rotors chopping the sea air. They touched down by the diner, dust spiraling from broken pavement.
Sarah and Nate climbed aboard first, the commander settling into her harness with grim focus. Piper struggled, still sputtering protests, until AR Team half-guided, half-shoved her into a seat.
As the bird lifted, the Castle shrank below them—its walls alive with activity, its banner catching the morning sun. For the first time in two centuries, the Minutemen had a stronghold.
And now, Sarah was flying straight back toward the sky fortress again.