Preston (with a sigh):"I sent our report to General Nate. He wasn't too thrilled with what we found either. Ended up heading off to do... something else. Side work, I guess — y'know how he is."
Sarah (dryly):"Oh, fantastic. I just love surprises in the middle of a diplomatic crisis. Hopefully, he makes it through whatever mess he's dealing with and shares his findings soon."
Preston looked uneasy, shifting the weight of his laser musket off his shoulder.
Preston (reluctant):"You're really going up there, huh? To the Prydwen?"He hesitated."You think Maxson'll actually listen?"
Sarah (serious):"He'll listen. But.....Whether he's willing to hear anything? That's a whole different ball game."She turned toward the parked Vertibird, its rotors idling in standby mode."We'll fly in aboard my vertibird. UMP9's at the stick. 45 will co-pilot. You and I will handle the talking."
Preston (raising a brow):"You got some kind of angle to give the Minutemen a leg up in this?"
Sarah (chuckling faintly):"No promises. We improvise on the fly — like always."
She stepped toward the bird, her cloak catching the wind as the engines began to warm. The sky above was growing darker, and in the far distance, the silhouette of the Prydwen loomed like a waiting judgment.
Sky above the Commonwealth – Late Afternoon
The sky rumbled as the colossal airship Prydwen cruised on its descent vector toward Boston Airport. Its escort Vertibirds flew in tight formation, engines growling, their autocannons at the ready.
Far behind, a lone Vertibird approached at a steady pace — its hull dark navy, matte-finished, unmarked but clearly retrofitted with pre-War modifications.
Vertibird Patrol Pilot (over comms):"Prydwen Command, this is Patrol Two-Five. We have an unidentified bird trailing us — bearing west-southwest. Non-aggressive posture, but It bear no Brotherhood markings."
Static crackled briefly before a calm, firm voice replied over the open frequency.
Unmarked Vertibird (Female voice – UMP45):"Hello, Brotherhood flight patrol. This is Echo-Two, civilian retrofitted Vertibird under SHD-registered flight clearance. We are carrying a diplomatic envoy representing the Commonwealth Minutemen."
Vertibird Patrol Pilot:"Echo-Two, you are in restricted airspace under Brotherhood control. State intent."
UMP9 (cutting in, chipper):"Intent is diplomatic. HEY, We're not here to poke the bear, just to knock on the front door."
Silence for a beat as the Prydwen's flight control processed the request. Then —
Prydwen Command:"Echo-Two, maintain your current altitude and approach vector. You will be escorted. Any deviation will be considered hostile. Over."
Sarah (quietly, to Preston):"Here we go."
Preston's grip on the seat tightened as the massive silhouette of the Prydwen drew closer, casting its shadow over the Commonwealth.
A Brotherhood patrol Vertibird aligned just off Echo-Two's starboard side. A magnetic tether line zipped across, and a lone Brotherhood soldier in power armor — bearing Knight-Captain insignia — slid down and landed with a thud on Echo-Two's cabin floor.
Knight-Captain Hadley straightened up, helmet retracting with a hiss. He looked older than expected — grey at the temples, face weathered by war, and unmistakably alert. His eyes locked on Sarah immediately.
Hadley (guarded):"Commander Sierra. I've read about you."
Sarah (calm, even):"And I'd like to speak with someone who reads more than just some mission reports."
Hadley (glancing at Preston, then the two Dolls at the cockpit):"You're flying in with Minutemen and... war tech. That's a bold move."
Sarah:"Everything we do now is bold, Knight-Captain. The Institute's pushing harder every day. You don't want us as enemies. But we don't want another."
Hadley stared at her for a long beat.
Hadley:"Maxson may not like that you're still walking the Commonwealth. Especially after what happened in D.C. with the White House Militia. There are... scars."
Sarah (quietly):"There are also survivors. And some of us still remember who really held the line back then."
The air vibrated with tension.
UMP45 (dryly):"If this gets awkward, I'm kicking him back out the hatch."
Preston (aside):"Oh....Please don't."
Hadley gave a faint smirk — then he relented.
Hadley:"Prydwen has been notified. You'll be received on the forward port deck. No sudden moves. And no unscheduled tech transfers."
He stepped back to the open hatch.
Hadley (before leaping back to the tether line):"Good luck, Commander. You're gonna need it."
He launched across, catching the line, vanishing into the wind and back into his own Vertibird.
Echo-Two banked slightly as the Prydwen loomed directly ahead — its massive hull swallowing the view. Turrets tracked them as they began their descent toward the Brotherhood's command deck, the future uncertain.
The Prydwen's massive form towered over Boston Harbor, anchored in a slow circular hover above the Boston Airport tarmac. Floodlights illuminated the deck, casting harsh shadows against its armored frame.
As Echo-Two approached the docking zone, deck crew in Brotherhood power armor stood at full readiness — sentries posted with Gatling lasers and a line of Paladins stood by in parade formation. The tension in the air was tangible.
UMP9 (from the cockpit):"Echo-Two to Prydwen Deck Control, requesting permission for final approach. Docking code: Sierra-45-Minutemen-Envoy."
Prydwen Flight Control:"Echo-Two, you are cleared for forward port deck, pad Bravo-Seven. Touch down with no delays. Approach is being monitored."
UMP45 (muttering):"No pressure, right?"
Echo-Two's landing struts hissed as they met the steel of the deck. The rotors slowly spun down, wind and noise cutting away. Inside the cabin, silence pressed against the team as Sarah unbuckled her harness.
Sarah (to her squad):"Eyes sharp. Weapons holstered. We're here to talk — not start another war."
Preston (sighing):"Let's just hope they believe that."
The Vertibird hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss. Commander Sierra-45, dressed in reinforced tactical uniform bearing no official insignia, stepped out first. At her side, Preston Garvey carried a neutral Minutemen banner slung over his back.
UMP9 and UMP45, still in flight harnesses, remained aboard as precaution — their eyes tracking every Brotherhood soldier.
Awaiting them stood Elder Arthur Maxson, flanked by Paladin Danse, Knight-Captain Hadley, and a group of senior scribes and soldiers.
Maxson's face was unreadable. His elder coat swayed lightly in the wind, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sidearm. The rest of the Brotherhood remained still — professional, but their posture said one thing: this is our turf.
Maxson (stern):"Commander Sierra... or is it Sierra-45 now? I expected you to be... retired."
Sarah (cool, firm):"Retirement's hard when the world keeps trying to fall apart. Elder Maxson."
A pause.
Maxson (flatly):"The last time the Brotherhood dealt with you, it ended with the disbandment of the White House Militia and your team disappearing into the ruins. Now you reappear at the head of Minutemen forces, supporting synthetic constructs, and aligning with non-sanctioned military assets."
Preston (under breath):"So much for small talk."
Sarah (raising her chin):"And yet, here we are — not as enemies, but standing on the same deck. Maybe that tells you something."
Danse (interjecting):"We've reviewed the battle at Fort Hagen. Your squad took heavy casualties — but also dismantled a forward command node operated by synths. That has… significance."
Maxson (stepping forward):"You'll speak your peace, Commander. But understand this — the Brotherhood's presence in the Commonwealth is not a matter of negotiation. We are here to destroy the Institute. Any force standing in the way will be treated as hostile."
Sarah (nodding slowly):"Then let's make sure we're not in the way. We're not here to stop you from fighting the Institute. We're here to ensure the people caught in the crossfire still have a future when it's over."
As the party moves inside the Prydwen, escort soldiers peel off, but Maxson leads them toward the lower deck war room, a chamber lined with holotables and tactical maps of the Commonwealth. Brotherhood scribes adjust glowing terminals, while overhead, mechanical arms move servos and screen panels.
Maxson turns sharply at the door.
Maxson:"You have one meeting. One chance to justify why we shouldn't wipe out the rogue elements you travel with."
Sarah (walking past him):"Then let's make it count."
The Brotherhood's war room on the Prydwen hummed with activity. Tactical holotables flickered with red zones and expanding deployment rings. Elder Arthur Maxson stood at the helm, eyes cold, posture rigid. Paladin Danse stood nearby, silently observing.
Opposite him stood Commander Sarah-45, flanked by Preston Garvey, who scanned the projected map of the Commonwealth uneasily.
Maxson (sternly):"We've confirmed increased Institute activity in the central sectors. Fort Hagen was only a forward node. You've proven useful in neutralizing it — but your continued deployment of autonomous combat units is... concerning."
Sarah (steady):"You've seen the results. Hagen's cleared. No civilian casualties. Anti-Rain units operate under strict SHD protocols. They're tools — not ideology."
Maxson:"I've heard that argument before. From the Enclave. From Raven Rock. I trust steel. Flesh. Not AI with faulty shackles."
Before Sarah could respond, her earpiece buzzed — UMP45, speaking through a private channel with quiet urgency.
[UMP45 – Internal Comms Only]
UMP45 (low, clipped):"Commander. Intercepted a shortwave from BoS Vertibird One-Six. They've just secured Fort Strong."
Sarah (whispers):"Cleared the super mutants?"
UMP45:"Yeah, but that's not the big part. They're securing the munitions vault under the base. Pre-war ordinance. High-yield stuff. Vertibirds on rotation for transport. No civilians, just firepower."
[Sarah Turns to Preston – Quiet Exchange]
Sarah (tense):"Are Fort Strong and nordhagen beach under Minutemen watch?"
Preston (quietly):"No. That area's always been locked down. Too many mutants. We never had the manpower. as for nordhagen beach settlement, they didn't reach out to us."
Sarah (under breath):"They didn't just want it cleared. They wanted the weapons. Let's pray the settlers treated fairly as humananly be"
Preston (grimly):"So they're arming up. Hard."
As they back into negotiation table
Sarah (clears her throat):"Just got word — Fort Strong. You've taken it."
Maxson (nods):"We have. The munitions stockpile beneath was significant. It will be repurposed for righteous use. Against the Institute. of course"
Sarah (challenging):"And the settlers near that zone? the nordhagen beach, You planning to 'repurpose' them too?"
Maxson (cold):"They were given warning. The Brotherhood doesn't negotiate with corruption, or tolerate exposure risks. The Institute's reach is everywhere."
Sarah (sharply):"You're arming up for a total war. I get that. But you're carving up the Commonwealth while we're trying to hold it together. We want to rebuild — not just sterilize it."
Danse as he interjects calmly:"Then there is middle ground. You can focus on community stabilization. While we focus on strategic threat elimination."
Maxson after a long pause:"You want neutrality zones for the Minutemen? Very well. But we control Fort Strong and Nordhagen Beach settlement. And if your dolls turn — even once — they're be scrap."
Sarah (nods once):"Fair. But if you threaten Minutemen-held farms or settlements, expect the resistance."
Maxson:"Then keep your people in line. And keep your Dolls on a leash."
Just as the negotiation seemed to cool, UMP45's voice crackled again into Sarah's earpiece — tense and urgent.
UMP45 (low, serious):"Kommandant. You're gonna want to hear this. Scanning Brotherhood command channels... Supply levels are critical. Proctor Teagan just issued a directive to start collecting 'tribute' from unaligned local settlements. Words used were 'requisition under Brotherhood authority.'"
She hesitated.
UMP45 (continuing):"And...Worst, we've got Liberty Prime components. Stored at the Boston Airport Warehouse. Crated. Guarded. They're planning full reassembly."
The war table hummed with the low static of regional surveillance maps. Holograms flickered. Elder Maxson stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, flanked by Paladin Danse and Proctor Ingram. A few scribes and knights stood at rigid attention nearby. The air was already thick — and then UMP45's transmission changed everything.
Sarah's hand slowly lowered from her earpiece. Her posture shifted — from diplomatic to direct.
She stepped toward the table, eyes locked on Maxson.Voice quiet, but piercing.
Sarah is Reeling in, but she Composed as best as she could
Sarah:"Elder Maxson. I'm going to ask you directly, as someone who's walked through hell with your predecessors — don't do this. Not to these people. Not like this."
Maxson's brows furrowed. He leaned forward slightly, arms still crossed, eyes narrowing in cautious curiosity.
Maxson as he measured:"Oh, Elaborate."
Sarah placed both hands on the edge of the table. Her voice sharpened — not with emotion, but with precision. She was choosing every word carefully, like a scalpel.
Sarah:"We've intercepted your comm traffic. Supply shortages. Logistics failures across your central corridor. I get that. But one of your Proctor, Proctor Teagan just ordered the collection of 'tribute' from local settlements. That is not a request — that's seizure. You're bleeding the people dry."
She leaned closer.
Sarah (harder):"You're also stockpiling Liberty Prime components at the Boston Airport. You can't honestly believe these actions will go unnoticed — or unchallenged."
[Preston – Voice Raised in Shocked Disbelief]
Preston is stepping forward voice raise as he in shocked disbelief:"You're… threatening farmers? Raiders do that. You're the Brotherhood of Steel. A discipline military, That is not liberation — that's occupation like Just like Gunner merc."
He stared at Maxson, as he is more disappointed than angry on brotherhood.
For a long moment, Maxson didn't respond. His jaw flexed subtly. The room went dead quiet — even the scribes turned slightly to watch his reaction.
Then, without shifting his eyes from Sarah, he muttered to Danse:
Maxson (quietly):"How the hell did she get that intel?"
Danse — standing slightly behind Sarah — inhaled through his nose, slowly. His voice low, neutral, but wary.
Danse:"She has Division SHD clearance, sir. I've seen it verified. She may still have access to pre-War orbital reconnaissance satellites or encrypted ground relays."(He hesitated.)"And she's not bluffing."
Sarah stood straight again, tone cooling just slightly, but her eyes stayed fixed on Maxson.
Sarah voiced calmly, but with urgent:"Use force, and you make every independent settlement your enemy. You lose the narrative. Even if you win the war with the Institute, you'll lose everything else."
Maxson's hand finally lowered from his folded arms, resting on the table. His voice was quiet, tight.
Maxson:"Teagan's orders are provisional. Our situation is… difficult. But Liberty Prime is non-negotiable. That machine is the key to eradicating the Institute threat."
Sarah (stern):"And what happens when that 'key' is turned against you? If the Institute gains a backdoor into Liberty prime's systems, they don't even need to shoot back — they just need to flip the switch. One override command and he wipes out every Brotherhood post from here to Adams."
Even Ingram blinked at that. Teagan clenched his jaw. Danse shifted uncomfortably.
Maxson's gaze flicked to his officers, measuring their reactions, then back to Sarah.
Sarah's tone went softer, as she offering:"You want compliance? Offer them a reason. Bring agricultural tech, water purification arrays, solar converters. You help them grow, they feed your troops. You get your supplies without a war."
She turned to the map, tapping Nordhagen Beach.
Sarah:"You can still be the ally they remember — not the empire they fear."
Maxson (slowly, after a breath):"I'll review Teagan's standing orders. And I'll consider your proposal. If your method fails—"
Sarah (interrupting):"Then you'll know diplomacy can't win this front. But at least you'll know you tried."
Maxson stood in silence, watching the small speck of the departing Vertibird vanish into the glowing Commonwealth horizon. Only Danse remained, standing still behind him in the now-quiet war room.
For a long moment, the Elder said nothing. Then, without turning:
Maxson (low):"Did you know she was still alive?"
Danse (measured):"No, sir. Not until she stepped onto the deck. I hadn't seen her since D.C."
Maxson finally turned from the window, unfastening his coat with slow precision. He folded it neatly, setting it on a side table. His expression remained distant.
Maxson:"Sierra-45. The Puppeteer of the Capital."A beat."I read what was left of the Citadel's black-box logs. That day at the White House ruins... Elder Lyons didn't order her Division in. He asked. Requested it, because he had no other option. She answered."
He rubbed his jaw, voice rough with memory.
Maxson (quiet):"Her team breached the Old Executive Bunker under fire from three directions. Cleared five levels by themselves. Covered the retreat when we couldn't. Half her force didn't make it out."
Danse (soft):"She held the tunnel chokepoint alone. Bought the Pride time to evac wounded. We all thought that was it — that she never made it."
Maxson (grim):"She wasn't under Lyons' command. Hell, she wasn't even Brotherhood at all. But she bled for us anyway."
He walked slowly to the holotable, staring at the glowing map of the Commonwealth. Boston Airport. Fort Strong. Nordhagen Beach. The projection flickered faintly under his fingertips.
Maxson:"And now she's here — backing militia farmers and patchwork settlements, calling off Brotherhood requisitions like it's still her battlefield."
Danse (measured):"She's choosing people over orders. She always did. That's why Lyons reached out in the first place — not because she owed him, but because he knew she'd never turn away from the innocent."
Maxson (flat):"She never did take orders. But she got the results."
He exhaled hard through his nose.
Maxson (cold):"She walked aboard and gutted half our operational plan in fifteen minutes. I don't know what tech she still has online… but I'm sure now: the Division never really died."
Danse hesitated to answer.
Danse:"She didn't come to fight us."
Maxson (quiet, but stern):"No. But if we push her hard enough... she might."
A heavy silence lingered.
Maxson stared out the viewport again, his voice dropping to something almost pained.
Maxson:"My sister Sarah Lyons trusted her. So did Elder Lyons. I want to believe they were right to. But belief won't stop a war."
He turned back to Danse.
Maxson (clipped):"Keep her close. Eyes open. If she tips toward the Institute — or slows our strike long enough for them to harden — we act. But until then… we watch."
Danse (solemn):"Understood, Elder."
Maxson (soft):"She's not our enemy. Not yet. But she's a variable I can't just ignore it."
The scene fades with Maxson framed against the storm-lit skyline — torn between duty, legacy, and the lingering shadow of a comrade once thought lost.