The briefing chamber aboard the Prydwen hummed softly—maps of the Commonwealth and Capital Wasteland hovering in pale blue light. Two days after the Institute's fall, the air no longer carried urgency alone, but consequence.
Maxson stood at the head of the table, gauntlets resting on its edge. Nate and Preston sat opposite him, while Sarah leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed, the tension of weeks of combat finally easing from her shoulders.
"The refugee situation on Spectacle Island is stabilizing," Maxson said. "Joint patrols with the Minutemen have reduced incidents to near zero. My scribes confirm that several Institute scientists—those with advanced robotics and weapons expertise—have accepted Brotherhood protection."
Preston nodded. "Minutemen've got the perimeter locked down. People are shaken, but seeing us and the Brotherhood working together? It gives 'em hope."
Sarah allowed herself a faint smile. "My Dolls have resumed full logistics and rapid-response coverage across the Commonwealth. With the Institute gone and Sangvis Ferri neutralized, there's no viral or infiltration threat left to account for. Supply lines are… finally stable."
Maxson inclined his head. "Good. Once preparations are complete, the Prydwen will transport the scientists to the Capital Wasteland. Some Brotherhood units will remain behind as permanent outposts—technology sharing, training, and joint defense with the Minutemen."
Before Nate could respond, the chamber doors slid open with a sharp hiss.
Lancer Captain Kells entered briskly, helm tucked under his arm, his expression uncharacteristically tight. "Elder. We've got a development."
Maxson turned. "Report."
"Surface contacts," Kells said. "A fleet approaching from the north, sea route. Multiple capital-class signatures. Pre-war tonnage."
The room fell silent.
Sarah straightened immediately, recognition flashing across her face. "So," she said quietly, "they finally made it. Spectacle Island is getting crowded. It's about time we shifted assets."
Maxson studied her. "You expected this. What vessels are we talking about, Commander?"
Sarah shrugged, casual but precise. "Pre-war Atlantic Fleet remnant. One aircraft carrier, two destroyers, one battlecruiser. Been running dark for a long time."
Preston blinked. "You're saying there's a carrier group just… sitting out there?"
Sarah didn't answer him. Her eyes were on Kells."Did they hail you, Captain? Identification?"
Kells nodded and activated the holotable. A waveform pulsed, followed by decoded text in stark white letters.
'This is Task Force AEGIS, United States Atlantic Remnant Fleet.Flagship: CV-67 USS Eisenhower.
Commanding Officer: Admiral Springfield.
Operational control held under Autonomous Doll Command.
Responding to Directive 51 continuity signal.
Requesting confirmation of Commander Sierra.'
The silence deepened.
Maxson's gaze snapped to Sarah—sharp, measured, heavy with realization."Admiral Springfield," he said slowly. "A Doll. You commanded an entire fleet."
Sarah closed her eyes for a brief second, then nodded. "She's mine. One of the earliest Dolls ever deployed. they located the fleet intact, repair which took over 10 years, huh, about time they show up."
She opened her eyes again, steel returning to her voice."It's seem like fleet finished repair and sail worthy now."
Maxson folded his arms. "And now?"
Sarah met his stare without hesitation. "Now the fleet comes home. Human command authority restored—under me. Their mission hasn't changed: protect American civilians, preserve and rebuild strategic stability, and prevent another extinction-level collapse."
She glanced at Nate and Preston, a faint, weary smile touching her lips.
Maxson turned back to Kells. "Respond. Confirm Commander Sierra's identity and her status."
Kells nodded. "Transmission ready."
Sarah added one final instruction, voice calm but resolute."Tell Admiral Springfield she's clear to approach. Low weapons posture. No intimidation passes—this isn't an invasion."
She exhaled softly as the order went out.
"Welcome back," Sarah murmured, almost to herself. "Let's see what's left to rebuild."
Preston and Nate departed the briefing chamber together, the doors sliding shut behind them with a muted hiss. Their voices faded down the corridor—already shifting to logistics, patrol rotations, and the grim inevitability of the next war. The Castle would not be quiet for long. Gunners and raider remnants would test it soon enough.
That left Sarah alone with Elder Maxson.
For a moment, neither spoke. The hum of the Prydwen's engines filled the silence, a steady reminder of power held barely in check.
Maxson broke it first.
"You know," he said, folding his arms, "I was genuinely tempted to offer you the rank of Sentinel."
Sarah laughed softly—dry, almost fond."Still got that bold streak, Arthur. But you know better."
She stepped forward and placed a thick, weathered folder onto the table between them. Its cover bore faded pre-War markings and a single stamped word: DEFY.
"I have duties," she continued. "Ones that didn't end in the Capital Wasteland. The Commonwealth was only one front. There's development from DEFY's Intel"
Maxson's expression sharpened. "Go on."
Sarah tapped the folder once."First concern: the Enclave. They're not gone—not truly. Cells are still active somewhere in the West. And if Athena survived the Institute, that's where she'll head. Old ghosts always crawl back to familiar graves."
Maxson exhaled slowly. "So you intend to pursue them."
"As much as I'd love to steal a jet and fly straight into their throat?" Sarah shook her head. "No. Charging in without local support would get me killed. Or worse—isolated. I move state by state. Coastal route. Southbound."
Maxson frowned. "South?"
"Texas," Sarah said flatly.
That earned a pause.
"According to DEFY intelligence," she continued, "there's a faction there—Caesar's Legionnaires. Not the myth, not the fragments you've heard rumors of. A structured empire built on slavery, mass conscription, and annihilation of opposition. Numbers that make the Gunners look like a street gang."
Maxson's jaw tightened. "Slavers."
"The worst kind," Sarah said. "They don't raid to survive. They raid to erase."
She flipped the folder open, revealing maps and redacted schematics."Second threat: Vault-Tec's Management Vault Center. Not just vaults—command infrastructure. Decision-makers. If any of them are still running simulations or sleeper protocols, they're a danger to everyone."
Maxson nodded slowly. "That makes three."
Sarah's voice lowered."The third is more… delicate. DEFY made contact decades ago with a rising power out west. They call themselves the New California Republic."
Maxson gave a humorless huff. "I've heard of them. The West Coast Brotherhood has… disagreements."
"That's putting it politely," Sarah replied. "They're organized. Expanding. Playing at democracy with an army behind it. I don't know yet whether they're the future—or just another empire with better branding."
"So you intend to contact them," Maxson said.
"Eventually," Sarah agreed. "Carefully."
She closed the folder and leaned back against the table, eyes distant now.
"And Arthur—about that satellite rumor that i command in our last tense discussion in the Commonwealth. You were right to doubt it. It was false."
Maxson raised an eyebrow.
"But," Sarah continued, a faint smile touching her lips, "it won't stay that way. If I reach Texas, there's a pre-War NASA orbital platform—unfinished but intact. Launch infrastructure. Rockets. Maybe even a functional spacecraft."
Maxson's gaze hardened with understanding."You're talking about space."
"I am," Sarah said quietly. "High ground beyond the wasteland. A place my Dolls can operate without borders, without radiation, without factions clawing at each other's throats. a massive communicatiion and control under my command."
She met his eyes fully now."If that platform still exists, Arthur… SHD gets its eyes back on the world."
For a long moment, Maxson said nothing. Then he straightened, every inch the Elder.
"The Brotherhood won't stand in your way," he said at last. "Even if the West Coast Chapter complicates things."
Sarah inclined her head—a rare gesture of respect."That's all I ask. Not obedience. Just… room to move."
Maxson allowed himself a thin smile."Try not to start another war on the way."
Sarah smirked as she turned toward the door."No promises, Elder. But if I do—at least it'll be one worth fighting."