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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Outside, Far Harbor slept uneasily beneath drifting Fog and rotating searchlights while rain tapped softly against the reinforced walls.
Morning came hard and gray over Far Harbor.
The kind of morning that felt less like the start of a day and more like the continuation of a decision nobody could undo anymore.
Fog rolled low across the harbor while cold wind pushed seawater spray against the reinforced walls and dock cranes. The rain had stopped again sometime before dawn, leaving puddles across the streets that reflected rotating floodlights and the silhouettes of soldiers already moving through the settlement long before sunrise.
Far Harbor was awake early.
Earlier than usual.
Because everyone understood something important now.
This wasn't another patrol operation.
Wasn't another defensive rotation.
Wasn't another temporary push against Children outposts in the western sectors.
This was the assault.
The real one.
The battle that would decide whether the island belonged to Far Harbor or whether the Children of Atom eventually buried everyone beneath radioactive fire and endless war.
Near the western perimeter, engines already thundered through the morning haze.
The four Sentinel tanks stood lined beside the reinforced gate sectors beneath portable floodlights while mechanics and armor crews swarmed around them with tools, ammunition loaders, fuel hoses, and diagnostic equipment.
The machines looked enormous in the Fog.
Almost unreal.
Scorched armor plating still carried marks from previous battles while fresh steel repairs covered damaged sections from the Children assault days earlier.
One mechanic climbed down from the side of the nearest Sentinel after tightening an external mounting bracket.
"How's she looking?"
The crew chief wiped grease from his hands with a rag already stained black.
"Mean."
Good answer honestly.
Nearby, another crew loaded massive cannon shells into armored transport racks while machine-gun belts were stacked carefully beside the turret compartments.
Everything moved with urgency now.
Not panic.
Preparation.
Different thing entirely.
Sico arrived near the vehicle staging sectors shortly after dawn carrying operation manifests beneath one arm while Mercer walked beside him reviewing final troop assignments.
The western gate had transformed overnight.
No longer simply defensive infrastructure.
Now it looked like the launching point of an invasion.
Six heavy transport trucks stood lined along the harbor roads with engines idling beneath drifting Fog while soldiers loaded ammunition crates, food containers, water reserves, spare radio batteries, medical kits, and demolition equipment into secured cargo sections.
Beside them waited six Humvees equipped with mounted machine guns and reinforced armor plating.
The convoy looked massive compared to anything Far Harbor had deployed before.
Three hundred soldiers.
More concentrated manpower than the settlement had ever committed to a single offensive operation.
That reality sat heavily across everyone involved.
One younger rifleman standing near the trucks watched the Sentinels quietly while tightening straps across his combat armor.
"You think this is enough?"
The older sergeant beside him answered without hesitation.
"It has to be."
That silence afterward mattered.
Because nobody standing here believed reinforcements existed somewhere waiting to save them if this failed.
This was the force.
This was the gamble.
And Far Harbor was pushing almost everything it had onto the table.
The harbor streets surrounding the convoy filled steadily with movement as soldiers finalized preparations beneath the gray morning sky.
Quartermasters moved through the staging areas carrying clipboards and supply manifests while checking ammunition distribution one crate at a time.
Plasma cartridges.
Rifle magazines.
Grenades.
Rocket reserves.
Medical plasma packs.
Radiation treatments.
Everything counted.
Everything mattered.
Because running out of supplies inside the Nucleus tunnels wouldn't just become dangerous.
It would become fatal.
Avery stood near the logistics trucks arguing aggressively with two exhausted inventory officers over food allocation numbers.
"No, I don't care if the protein packs taste like engine lubricant."
She jabbed a finger toward the supply sheet.
"They're compact, high-calorie, and they don't spoil. Load them."
One officer grimaced.
"Morale matters too."
Avery looked like she hadn't slept in about thirty hours.
"Morale can eat after we survive."
Fair.
Very fair.
Sico approached while workers loaded additional water drums into the rear transport compartments.
"Status?"
Avery checked her clipboard immediately.
"Ammunition reserves distributed."
She flipped another page.
"Medical supplies loaded into all convoy vehicles. Additional plasma reserves secured separately."
Another page.
"Food and water sufficient for seven operational days if rationed properly."
Mercer raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Seven?"
"We're planning for worst-case tunnel containment."
Nobody argued with that either.
The Nucleus operation had too many unknowns for optimistic supply estimates.
Avery continued.
"Fuel reserves are stable. Humvees fully stocked. Trucks reinforced."
Then after a pause:
"…Still low on socks."
Mercer stared at her.
"Incredible."
"War never changes."
That actually pulled a few tired laughs from nearby soldiers overhearing the conversation.
Small moments again.
Tiny human moments keeping exhaustion from swallowing people whole.
Beyond the vehicle lines, armorers worked through the remaining troop formations inspecting rifles and combat gear before deployment.
One soldier failed inspection because his rifle feed jammed during testing.
The armorer immediately ripped the weapon from his hands.
"You bring this underground and it kills you."
No anger.
Just blunt truth.
A replacement rifle arrived moments later.
Nearby, medics distributed additional radiation injectors and trauma kits while briefing squad leaders on emergency extraction procedures inside confined tunnel environments.
The conversations sounded grim everywhere now.
What to do if tunnel collapses separated units.
How to identify radiation flooding symptoms.
How to evacuate plasma burns underground.
Where fallback markers would be placed if visibility failed.
Nobody talked like soldiers preparing for a glorious battle.
They sounded like people preparing to survive something terrible.
Because that was exactly what this would be.
Near the Sentinels, crews completed final combat checks on the armored vehicles.
The first tank commander climbed partially from the hatch while reviewing firing calibrations with his gunner.
"Main cannon aligned?"
"Aligned."
"Secondary feeds?"
"Operational."
"What about the western stabilizer?"
The mechanic below slapped the armor plating.
"Still ugly but functional."
Good enough for Far Harbor.
The second Sentinel nearby roared briefly as its engine cycled through diagnostic checks, the sound rolling across the harbor with deep mechanical force that vibrated through nearby puddles and metal barricades.
People always looked toward the Sentinels when they moved.
Always.
Not just soldiers.
Civilians too.
Because the tanks had become symbols now.
Proof Far Harbor could still hit back.
Near the docks, groups of civilians watched the convoy preparations quietly from behind security lines.
Nobody cheered.
This wasn't that kind of departure.
Families stood close together beneath coats and blankets while workers paused from unloading cargo just long enough to watch three hundred armed soldiers preparing to leave the settlement.
Some people whispered prayers.
Others simply stared.
One older fisherman standing near the barricades muttered quietly to the man beside him:
"Looks like the whole damn harbor's going to war."
The other man answered without taking his eyes off the convoy.
"Maybe it already has."
True.
Very true.
Sico spent the rest of the morning moving methodically through every section of the assault preparations personally.
Not symbolic inspections.
Real ones.
He checked ammunition loads himself.
Verified water reserves.
Reviewed medical evacuation assignments with Doctor Hale's trauma teams.
Inspected vehicle armor reinforcement.
Confirmed radio frequency redundancy.
Reviewed artillery timing windows with support crews.
Nothing about this operation could rely on assumptions anymore.
Too much depended on precision.
Near one truck, Sico climbed into the cargo compartment where soldiers secured demolition charges beside stacked ammunition crates.
One of the younger troops looked toward him.
"You really think we can take the Nucleus?"
No bravado in the question.
Just honesty.
Sico answered honestly too.
"Yes."
The soldier nodded slowly.
Not reassured completely.
But steadier.
That kept happening lately.
People didn't need impossible promises anymore.
They needed confidence that somebody still believed survival remained possible.
Around midday the Fog thickened briefly around the harbor while the convoy preparations continued beneath floodlights and engine smoke.
The settlement sounded different today.
Heavy.
Purposeful.
No casual movement.
No wasted energy.
Every street near the western gate carried soldiers, supply teams, mechanics, engineers, medics, or patrol coordinators moving toward deployment positions.
Far Harbor had concentrated itself into one enormous military operation.
Even the civilians felt it.
Near the market district, shopkeepers distributed final supplies to soldiers without charging for half of it anymore.
Coffee.
Gloves.
Preserved fish.
Extra ammunition straps.
One older woman running a ration stall shoved two additional food packs into a rifleman's hands.
"You bring those back empty."
The young soldier blinked.
"Yes ma'am."
"And preferably attached to your body."
That earned a few nearby laughs.
Again, small moments.
Necessary ones.
By early afternoon the convoy stood fully assembled outside the western gate.
Four Sentinel tanks positioned at staggered intervals around the transport column.
Six trucks loaded with infantry and supplies.
Six Humvees carrying mounted machine guns and rapid-response squads.
Three hundred soldiers equipped for direct assault against the most dangerous location on the island.
The sheer scale of it changed the atmosphere near the harbor walls completely.
This wasn't defense anymore.
This looked like war marching outward intentionally.
The western gate itself stood reinforced and armed behind them.
Fresh steel plating.
Additional machine-gun nests.
Sandbag fortifications layered deeply around the approaches.
Far Harbor preparing to survive whether the assault succeeded or failed.
Because everybody understood another truth now too:
If this operation collapsed…
The Children of Atom would strike back hard.
Very hard.
Which meant retreat planning mattered just as much as attack planning.
That reality brought the senior leadership together once more inside the command hall for the final operational briefing before departure.
The atmosphere inside felt even heavier than the night before.
Exhaustion still clung to everyone, but now it mixed with something sharper.
Finality.
The maps across the operations table had been updated overnight with confirmed patrol intelligence and revised assault routes.
The Nucleus sat marked beneath red circles, approach arrows, artillery zones, and evacuation corridors.
Avery dropped another logistics folder onto the table while muttering:
"If I survive this operation, I'm sleeping for a month."
Ward looked equally exhausted.
"If we survive this operation, you can sleep for two."
Nobody smiled much.
Too tired.
Too aware of what waited ahead.
Sico stood near the central map while the room settled.
"We review once more."
Mercer folded his arms beside the operations table.
"Convoy moves west through secured sectors."
He pointed toward marked roads.
"Sentinels lead and anchor outer containment."
Another marker shifted.
"Humvees secure flanks and rapid-response lanes."
Then his finger tapped the highlighted staging zone several kilometers from the Nucleus perimeter.
"The FOB gets established here."
That mattered.
Very much.
The Forward Operating Base had become one of the most important parts of the plan overnight.
Not because anyone expected retreat.
Because smart commanders planned for retreat anyway.
Sico looked around the room.
"We do not assault the Nucleus directly from Far Harbor."
Several officers nodded immediately.
Too dangerous otherwise.
Too much distance between the assault teams and sustainable support.
If the tunnel fighting went badly, soldiers would need somewhere defensible to regroup, evacuate wounded, redistribute ammunition, and reorganize without retreating all the way back to Far Harbor under pursuit.
The FOB would become their lifeline.
Ward pointed toward the marked staging area near an abandoned industrial maintenance zone west of the Nucleus.
"Natural ridgeline protection here."
Another officer added:
"Limited approach angles. Good vehicle cover."
Avery flipped through another supply sheet.
"We already loaded construction materials for defensive fortifications."
Sandbags.
Portable barriers.
Field medical tents.
Ammo reserves.
Fuel drums.
Communication relays.
Everything needed to build a temporary battlefield fortress fast enough to survive if the operation turned ugly.
Doctor Hale leaned against the edge of the table while reviewing medical projections.
"If casualty numbers spike underground, the FOB becomes primary triage."
Then after a pause:
"Assuming we can still reach it."
Nobody missed the meaning behind that sentence either.
Tunnel warfare separated people quickly.
One collapse.
One ambush.
One failed extraction route.
Suddenly retreat paths disappeared.
Sico pointed toward the Nucleus access routes again.
"The assault begins only after the FOB is fully secured."
No rushing.
No reckless momentum.
This operation would live or die based on preparation.
Mercer looked toward the room carefully.
"If things go bad inside…"
He paused slightly.
"…nobody panics."
That sounded simple.
It wasn't.
Tunnel fighting destroyed discipline faster than open warfare sometimes.
Darkness.
Confined spaces.
Echoing gunfire.
Radiation alarms.
Limited visibility.
People trapped underground with collapsing concrete and religious fanatics screaming Atom's name around every corner.
Panic inside environments like that became contagious very quickly.
Ward studied the route maps quietly.
"Fallback teams?"
"Assigned already," Sico answered.
"Every entry squad gets dedicated extraction support."
Then after another pause:
"If communication fails, all surviving personnel regroup at the FOB."
Because the FOB mattered that much.
The room slowly fell quiet afterward while rain tapped softly against the command hall windows outside.
Far Harbor waited beyond those walls.
Watching the convoy.
Watching the Sentinels.
Watching three hundred soldiers prepare to march toward the Nucleus and either end the war or disappear into it.
Avery finally broke the silence softly.
"You know…"
Everyone looked toward her.
"…this might actually work."
Mercer blinked once.
"That's either encouraging or horrifying."
"Probably both."
Fair answer honestly.
The command hall emptied slowly after that.
Not all at once.
People lingered around the operations table longer than necessary, staring at maps they already memorized and supply manifests they'd reviewed six times over. Nobody really wanted to say the final words out loud.
Because once the convoy departed, planning ended.
Then came reality.
Outside, the harbor waited beneath thick gray Fog and cold ocean wind while engines continued rumbling beyond the reinforced western gate. Searchlights swept slowly across steel barricades and wet streets where soldiers moved between vehicles carrying final equipment crates and radio batteries.
Far Harbor sounded tense.
Like a held breath.
Sico remained near the central map for another moment after the others started leaving. His eyes stayed fixed on the marked Nucleus sectors beneath the harsh overhead lights.
The red circles.
The tunnel routes.
The fallback corridors leading toward the FOB site.
Everything beyond this point depended on those lines becoming real.
Mercer stopped beside him quietly.
"You know Avery's right."
Sico looked toward him.
"About what?"
"This actually might work."
Not optimism.
Not exactly.
But maybe the closest thing to it either of them had allowed themselves in weeks.
Sico folded the final operations sheet carefully before answering.
"It has to."
Mercer nodded once.
Then both men walked toward the command hall doors together.
Outside, Far Harbor was already watching them.
The convoy dominated the western staging sector now beneath pale morning light filtering weakly through the Fog. Four Sentinel tanks stood like iron fortresses near the gate while transport trucks vibrated with idling engines and mounted Humvee guns rotated slowly through security checks.
Three hundred soldiers waited across the harbor roads.
Helmets secured.
Weapons loaded.
Faces pale from exhaustion, adrenaline, or fear.
Sometimes all three.
Nobody spoke loudly anymore.
The closer departure came, the quieter everything became.
Near the lead Sentinel, mechanics disconnected the final fuel lines while armor crews sealed ammunition compartments and checked external plating one last time.
One crewman slapped the side of the tank twice before climbing down from the hull.
"Don't explode out there."
The muffled reply came from inside the turret hatch:
"No promises."
A few nearby soldiers laughed weakly.
Tiny sound.
Gone quickly.
Sico moved through the staging area methodically while final deployment checks continued around him.
He paused beside infantry squads reviewing ammunition distribution.
Stopped near medics organizing trauma kits inside the rear transport trucks.
Checked the Humvee communications frequencies personally.
Nothing escaped inspection now.
Not today.
Near the third truck column, one nervous-looking rifleman adjusted the strap on his combat armor for probably the tenth time in five minutes.
His squad leader finally muttered:
"You keep pulling that thing any tighter and you'll stop breathing before the Children shoot you."
A few men nearby chuckled quietly.
The rifleman exhaled hard.
"Sorry."
"Relax."
The older squad leader checked his own rifle chamber.
"Everybody's scared."
Honest answer.
Maybe the best kind.
Because pretending otherwise would've sounded ridiculous standing here.
Even veterans looked tense today.
Especially veterans.
They understood what operations like this could become.
Sico eventually reached the lead Humvee positioned near the front of the convoy. The vehicle's reinforced armor still carried scratches and bullet marks from previous western patrols while fresh machine-gun ammunition belts hung loaded across the mounted turret assembly above.
One of the vehicle mechanics stepped back after securing the engine housing.
"She's ready."
Sico glanced toward the Humvee.
"Any issues?"
"Only the usual ones."
The mechanic shrugged.
"Which means she'll probably survive another apocalypse."
Good enough.
Mercer approached carrying the final convoy route logs.
"Scouts confirmed the western corridor remains clear."
"How far?"
"Far enough."
That mattered.
Because secrecy remained critical during the approach phase.
The Children of Atom couldn't know where the FOB was being established until it was already fortified.
Otherwise artillery, rockets, or counterattacks could destroy the staging area before the main assault even began.
Ward climbed down from the rear truck section nearby while checking his sidearm.
"Advance recon teams already moving?"
Mercer nodded.
"Thirty minutes ahead of the convoy."
"Good."
The farther warning eyes extended into the Fog, the better.
Far Harbor couldn't afford ambushes today.
Not carrying this much manpower.
Not carrying this much hope.
Behind the staging lines, civilians still gathered quietly beneath barricades and floodlights watching the departure preparations from a distance.
Families.
Dockworkers.
Fishermen.
Children half-hidden beneath coats beside tired parents.
Nobody treated this like celebration.
It felt closer to watching a storm approach.
One older woman pressed a small wrapped cloth package into a young soldier's hands near the barricade.
"Food."
The soldier blinked.
"You should keep this."
"I already ate."
Probably a lie.
The boy looked like he wanted to argue again.
Then stopped.
"…Thank you."
The woman touched his arm briefly.
"Come back."
Simple words.
Heavy ones.
All across the harbor, similar moments unfolded quietly.
Short conversations.
Quick embraces.
People pretending not to look too frightened while soldiers pretended not to notice.
Near the rear convoy truck, a little girl hugged her older brother so tightly he nearly lost balance stepping onto the transport ramp.
"You promised."
"I know."
"You promised."
He crouched slightly despite all the gear hanging from his shoulders.
"I'm coming home."
The child nodded once, still holding onto him.
Adults nearby looked away politely after that.
War taught communities when to give people privacy.
Even in crowded streets.
Eventually the final signal lights along the western gate flashed green.
Departure ready.
The enormous reinforced gate groaned slowly as hydraulic systems pulled the steel barriers open toward the Fog-covered roads beyond Far Harbor.
Cold wind rushed inward immediately carrying damp air and the distant smell of wet earth and old smoke from the western sectors.
Outside the walls, the island waited.
Silent.
Watching.
Sico climbed into the lead Humvee without ceremony while radio operators finalized convoy channels around him.
The vehicle interior smelled like oil, steel, wet fabric, and old gunpowder.
Familiar smells now.
Too familiar.
Mercer leaned briefly against the open side door before stepping back.
"Once we establish the FOB, no delays."
Sico nodded.
"We move fast."
Ward climbed into the second Humvee farther behind while the Sentinel crews sealed their hatches and prepared for movement.
One by one the convoy engines deepened into synchronized mechanical thunder across the harbor streets.
Transport trucks.
Humvees.
Tanks.
Three hundred soldiers preparing to disappear into the Fog.
Far Harbor stood watching in silence.
Sico grabbed the field radio mounted beside the dashboard.
His voice came calm across the convoy frequency.
"All units."
Static crackled briefly.
Then silence.
"Convoy departure confirmed."
Outside, soldiers straightened instinctively while drivers tightened hands across steering wheels.
Sico looked once toward the harbor behind them through the open gate.
The reinforced walls.
The docks.
The civilians standing behind barricades.
The settlement they were gambling everything to protect.
Then he gave the order.
"Move out."
The lead Sentinel tank rolled first.
Its massive tracks crushed wet gravel and broken pavement beneath overwhelming mechanical weight while steam rose faintly from the engine vents into the cold morning air.
Then the second Sentinel followed.
Then the Humvees.
Then the transport trucks carrying infantry and supplies.
The convoy stretched outward through the western gate slowly like an armored river disappearing into Fog.
Far Harbor watched them go.
Nobody cheered.
Some people waved quietly.
Others stood motionless beneath coats and rain blankets while engines echoed through the harbor streets.
One fisherman removed his hat silently as the trucks passed.
Nearby, a child pointed toward the tanks.
"They're gonna win."
His mother didn't answer immediately.
Finally she whispered softly:
"They better."
Outside the walls, the island swallowed the convoy almost immediately beneath drifting Fog and gray coastal wind.
The western roads still carried scars from recent battles.
Cratered earth.
Burned-out vehicles.
Destroyed barricade remnants partially pushed aside by recovery crews.
Artillery marks carved deep across the mud and broken asphalt.
The convoy moved carefully through all of it.
Sentinels leading.
Humvees scanning the tree lines constantly.
Mounted machine guns rotating toward every suspicious movement inside the Fog.
Nobody relaxed.
Not even slightly.
Inside the lead Humvee, radio chatter flowed steadily through the cabin.
"Scout Team One reporting road stable."
"Western ridge clear."
"Thermal scans negative."
Mercer's voice crackled through another channel.
"Maintain spacing between vehicle groups."
Sico watched the terrain ahead through the windshield while Fog drifted endlessly between ruined trees and shattered roadside structures left behind by years of decay and recent warfare.
The island looked haunted out here.
Dead utility poles leaned beside broken roads.
Abandoned vehicles rusted quietly beneath moss and rain.
Farther west, burned forest sectors still smoked faintly where artillery and combat fires had ripped through the landscape days earlier.
War layered itself on top of old ruin now.
Making the island feel even more abandoned by the world beyond it.
One Humvee gunner farther back muttered over convoy comms:
"Hate this damn Fog."
The older driver below him answered immediately.
"Fog hates you too."
Small laughter crackled briefly through the radios.
Then silence returned.
Because every shadow outside still looked dangerous.
The convoy continued westward for hours through difficult terrain and unstable roads while scout teams moved ahead checking for ambushes, radiation pockets, or Children patrol activity.
Several times the Sentinels slowed near narrow road sectors where collapsed debris or crater damage forced careful maneuvering.
Each pause tightened nerves instantly.
Every soldier understood how vulnerable long convoys became once movement stopped.
At one point the lead scout radioed suddenly:
"Possible movement north tree line."
Immediately mounted guns rotated outward.
Rifles lifted.
Sentinel turrets shifted with terrifying smoothness toward the Fog-covered forest.
Silence followed.
Long enough to hurt nerves.
Then the scout answered again.
"Negative contact."
One exhausted soldier riding inside the nearest truck muttered quietly afterward:
"Gonna die from stress before Atom gets us."
Nobody disagreed.
By late morning the convoy finally moved deeper into the western island sectors near the outer Nucleus approach zones.
The terrain changed subtly here.
Less open roadway.
More cliffs.
Denser tree coverage.
Rock formations and collapsed industrial structures scattered through the Fog like bones.
The Children of Atom presence lingered everywhere even when unseen.
Old radiation warning signs painted with Atom symbols.
Burned religious banners hanging from broken poles.
Makeshift shrines near roadside wreckage.
The island felt watched now.
Sico noticed it too.
"These sectors are too quiet."
Mercer's voice came through the radio.
"They know something's happening."
Probably.
The Children had scouts too.
Patrol networks.
Observers hidden inside the Fog.
The convoy's size alone made secrecy impossible forever.
Which meant speed mattered even more now.
Around midday the advance scouts finally located the FOB site.
An abandoned industrial maintenance zone partially hidden beneath rocky ridgelines west of the Nucleus outer perimeter.
Exactly what they needed.
Close enough to support the assault.
Hidden enough to avoid immediate detection.
Defensible enough to survive counterattack if things went bad.
The convoy slowed gradually as the Sentinels pushed through the narrow final approach road beneath heavy Fog and overgrown tree cover.
The site emerged slowly through the mist afterward.
Old maintenance buildings.
Collapsed warehouses.
Concrete service tunnels.
Rusting fuel containers.
Half-broken loading platforms surrounded by natural rock barriers and thick forest coverage.
Ugly place.
Perfect place.
Ward climbed from his Humvee immediately after arrival while scanning the ridgelines through binoculars.
"Good concealment."
Mercer stepped beside him.
"Natural choke points too."
Exactly.
Any assault against the FOB would funnel through limited approaches.
That alone might save lives later.
Sico climbed from the lead Humvee while soldiers immediately began unloading equipment and establishing perimeter security around the abandoned industrial site.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
No longer movement.
Now construction.
Preparation.
The FOB needed to exist fast.
Very fast.
Because every minute spent exposed out here increased the risk of discovery.
"Set perimeter sectors!" Mercer shouted immediately.
Infantry squads spread outward through the Fog establishing overlapping defensive lines among the ruined structures and rock formations while Humvees repositioned toward elevated firing positions covering the approach roads.
The Sentinels rolled carefully into concealed anchor points near the outer perimeter where camouflage netting and collapsed warehouse walls helped hide their silhouettes from distant observation.
Engineers moved almost frantically now.
Sandbags unloaded.
Portable barricades assembled.
Communication relays raised.
Medical tents deployed beneath reinforced roofing sections.
Field generators dragged into protected positions.
Far Harbor building another fortress.
Just closer to hell this time.
One engineer hauling steel barriers looked around the abandoned industrial yard while breathing hard.
"This place feels cursed."
The soldier beside him slammed a sandbag into position.
"Good. Maybe Atom's lunatics will stay away."
Not likely.
But nice thought.
As Sico oversee the FOB construction personally, while the radio operators established secure communication links toward Far Harbor and forward scout positions near the Nucleus perimeter.
______________________________________________
• 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:-