The Cure For Curie (Complete!)

Rocket's Red Glare

"Sturges! It's time!" Ellie shouted down the hallway.

Sturges sprang into action immediately. Valentine was already hooked into the network, ready to play his part. The wristband device lay on the table in front of him, beeping, its consent to accept the new lines of command. Sturges was more than concerned, after the program ran it's course, he wasn't sure if the old detective would ever be whole again.

He tried to push it from his mind. That couldn't matter now. The only thing that mattered was providing the distraction for John. If this worked, the General would be able to get on and off the Prydwen unharmed. He hoped it would be enough. He typed in the final password to start the program.

Synth:overload-run

He waited as the terminals around him came to life with the code. Beeps, whistles, and tones echoed around him in the small room. Text scrolled faster than the eye could read, as one routine turned on another. Damn, he hoped this would work. There would be no real way to know for sure. He hadn't been able to hack into the Prydwen's security feeds to monitor it from both sides.

After a moment, all the terminals quieted to a lull, all but one. He watched the notifications begin their dance up the screen, one by one.

Synth:overload activated.
Transmission on.
Replication procedures running.

Sturges hoped it would be enough.

          ----------
"Elder Maxon, we have a problem." A scribe reported through the doorway.

Maxon couldn't imagine what hell this man had brought him now. He had been standing in front of the large glass windows on the Prydwen, trying to make sense of the confusion he had witnessed only seconds ago.

First without warning the radio tower on the edge of the city had exploded. The trained men and women sprang into action to sort out the problem and begin to put the fire out. He had thought it odd, jarring for sure, but nothing more than a simple accident. Faulty wiring maybe. It had amazed him that the rickety hunk of a tower managed to stand at all.

That was until the next events unfolded in front of his eyes. Just as the soldiers stationed in the city had moved to put out the flaming radio antenna, swarms of civilians began fleeing the city. All the civilians. It looked just like a pack of wild animals in the forest before a radiation storm blew in. Running from impending danger. He had been racking his brain at what that threat would be. Judging by the urgency in the scribe's voice, he knew he was about to hear it.

"What is it, soldier?" He asked, fearing the answer.

"We aren't sure, sir. Procter Quinlan said to retrieve you right away. There is an alert in the system."

He followed the scribe to the Procter's quarters below deck. The soldiers below seemed to all be gearing up for something big. Men and women were rushing to load weapons and strap into large suits of power armor. He suspected an impending attack from the Minutemen. It was about time that coward who dared to call himself a general moved to strike back.

Ever since Maxon had ordered the slaughter at Castle, he had been waiting for retaliation. He had hoped that the attack would be enough to finally force John's hand. All this time the traitor had been playing shadow games and running from the fight at hand. Maxon had had enough of the childish horseplay and was ready to finally snuff out the opposition. He was overjoyed that his plan had seemed to work.

"Quinlan, what is so important?" Elder Maxon asked as he stormed into the room.

"Well sir, it appears we have quite the problem outside the gates." The old Procter started as he pointed at a large monitor.

Maxon moved to get a closer look. He could see a map of Diamond City and the surrounding area. On the edge of the town, just a half a block from the city walls, he saw five red dots surrounding the perimeter.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Synths." Procter Quinlan answered in a cold tone. "They seem to be multiplying every minute or so. We aren't sure what their goal is but it looks as though they are trying to surround the city."

Just as he had finished the thought another small red dot flashed to life on the screen, and then another, and another. They had begun to sprout up by the second. Before Elder Maxon could blink, or even breathe, over one hundred dots appeared in a flash.

"Jesus..." Maxon sighed. "Sound the alarm. Alert every available soldier. They cannot get inside the walls."

"Now!" He shouted, slamming his fist against the wall to punctuate his point. The room sprang to life as the men in the room rushed into action.

"What would you have me do sir?" Procter Quinlan asked.

"Dammit! Didn't you hear me? I said every available man. You look every bit as available as those who rushed to do their damn job." He screamed. Without protest, the old man went to his storage locker to suit up, something he had not done in ages.

Maxon watched the screen a moment more as dot after dot appeared. Those damn abominations were reaching the thousands now. For the first time since he had been a fresh faced recruit, Maxon had felt fear.

He wasn't sure his men would pull through a fight of this magnitude. He knew that somehow John had something to do with this. He couldn't fathom an explanation on how that bastard was able to find, let alone run the technology, to control so many synths. He would punish him gravely for the injustice that was about to befall all his men. He knew they would lose, but the 'general' would not get away with this. He would be sure of that.

Maxon heard a distress call come in over the comm link, pulling him from his thoughts. He was now the only living soul on board, he would have to answer the call. He took one last look at the monitors, the dots ever multiplying, before leaving the room. His men would be slaughtered.

He reached the flight deck just as the SOS signal started again. He tried to listen, but there was too much static to make out the whole thing.

"Prydwen, this is .... need emer ... landing ... man down ...assistance ..."

"This is Elder Maxon, soldier. Permission to come aboard. Once docked, proceed to ground. We are under attack. I repeat, we are under attack. Over." The static played for a moment before a crystal clear response came over the air.

"Copy that. Over and out."

The Prydwen shook as the vertibird connected to the docking mechanism. He could hear footsteps rushing up the metal stairs just outside the door. Two sets, two men. Maxon could have swore that the pilot said one of the men was down. Confusion coupled with the now crippling fear rose in his throat. The door leading to the main deck swung open as two heavily armed soldiers stood shadowed in the doorway. Guns raised, he could hear the buzzing of an armed laser rifle ready to fire.

"Elder Maxon, put your hands up. The Prydwen is now property of the Minutemen. "