The door opens on a cloudy day in the Wasteland, one that smells vaguely dank and unpleasant. There isn't a Metro entrance anywhere in the DC area that smells good any more, though, so that's all right. "This seemed like the safest place to come through," Ellen says to her new arrivals. "This is Anacostia Crossing. Rivet City's up at the top of the stairs, in the river, so if you guys need anything else we can go there before we start into the tunnels."

Dad was with Dr. Li. They were working on an experiment, Ellen told herself firmly. A late-running, very complicated, GECKtech experiment. One that non-participants couldn't be allowed to witness, just in case they did something that interfered. Yes. That was it.

Even Ellen had to admit that she was a terrible liar.

Well, Dad would come and talk to her when they were done. With the experiment. In the meantime... in the meantime, she had to admit, the situation wasn't great. She had no Commonwealth tech to show for her efforts, despite Zimmer's promises. She'd sold all her spare equipment at the marketplace, except for the alien guns; Flak had no use for weapons that had no earthly ammo. The remainder of her Brotherhood reward money had gone towards paying off her Milliways bill. The money she'd gotten from Regulator HQ, while nice, wasn't nearly as much as she needed. Reilly's gratitude would only net so much of a discount- the woman was, after all, a mercenary, not an armed and armored charity. It was starting to look to Ellen like she'd have to head back to Regulator HQ and ask for the bounty list. There were people in the Wasteland dangerous enough to have killed not only everyday settlers, but Regulators who'd gone after them, or even the occasional Brotherhood member. Any one of them would easily net a thousand caps or more for whoever survived the encounter. She'd heard whispers about the man with his name at the top of the list, a raider named Junders Plunkett, and how he wore the fingers of Regulators he'd killed around his neck...

If she was going to do that, though, she was going to need serious help. She'd start with a visit to the local chapel. St. Monica's seemed pretty normal, aside from Father Clifford's prohibition on priests or acolytes marrying. It was the only house of worship she'd found in the Wasteland yet that didn't make her eye twitch. She'd stop there and pray a little before getting her armor tuned up and heading out. Times like this, she really missed Reverend Avellone; Father Clifford would just have to do. She turned away from the science lab, her hand still on the wheel that opened and closed the great metal door. Her eye fell on a sign she'd walked past a dozen times since coming to Rivet City: Capitol Preservation Society.

Well. She didn't have to run out and pray about risking her neck just yet, did she? Father Clifford was probably busy anyway. She'd... check the place out. It wouldn't take long. It might be interesting. It beat getting her fingers cut off. She opened the door.

She didn't know what she'd expected, but the intact silver airplane hanging from the ceiling, its wings stretching out at a height she could practically have walked onto, wasn't it. As she shook herself free of the shock, she saw that it was a two-storey room. Most of the upper walls were plastered with prewar posters. They came in all kinds: Mr. Handy Recommends Abraxo Cleaner!, Lend A Hand For Uncle Sam- Enlist Today, Captain Cosmos and Jingles the Moon Monkey (Thursdays at 8:00 PM), Freddy Fear's House of Scares (For All Your Halloween Needs), Vault-Tec: We'll Be There!, Giddyup Buttercup Life-Size Robotic Ponies (Every Girl's Fantasy Now A Reality!). One called for volunteers at the local hospital with the slogan "You Don't Need A Howitzer To Be A Hero". Another urged the curious to come to the Museum of Technology to see the Virgo 11 Lunar Lander. A man in red robes trimmed in flecked white hawked Radiation King Radios and Televisions next to a poster bragging about Sugar Bombs Cereal's explosive great taste. She'd never seen so many ancient papers in one place before.

"If you think those are impressive," came a reedy tenor voice from the floor below, "you should see the real stars of the collection."

Ellen turned to peer over the railing. The speaker stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by tables weighed down with radios and books and other objects she couldn't identify. He had grey hair, and wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. As she made her way down the stairs he added, "Don't be shy. Feel free to have a look around... Abraham Washington's the name. Curator of this little slice of American history."

"It's very interesting," Ellen said; she was half interested in him, and half in the odd little white house with a slanting red roof behind him. It didn't look like it could house anything much larger than Dogmeat. "I haven't seen anything like some of this except in old vids."

"Ah, a fellow scholar, I see!" Washington brightened. "Each of the documents in this room tells a small but important part of the history of the United States of America."

"Documents?"

Washington gestured to the fourth wall, the one with no posters. Ellen had skipped it, thinking the brown patches to be rust. As she drew closer she realized they were framed bits of paper, or something like it. The nearest one looked like little more than a typed letter, but she leaned in close enough to make out the faded words- "Sir?" she said. "Is this what I think it is?"

"That's the United States' original declaration of war against the People's Republic of China," Washington agreed.

"Wow. And this...." She looked at the one next to it. "Where did you get this one? This is from the twentieth century!"

"The declaration of war against Nazi Germany is hardly the oldest document in the collection," Washington said cheerfully. "Do look up, won't you?"

It took some squinting, and the light from her Pip-Boy, but Ellen managed to read enough of the others to recognize documents she'd only ever heard of in her classes with Mr. Brotch. There was a copy- maybe a handwritten one!- of the Constitution of the United States. Below it hung a copy of what she was almost sure was the Monroe Doctrine, flanked by papers Hannibal Hamlin would have given his arms and legs to own. "Are these really the Gettysburg Address and the Emancipation Proclamation?" she said.

"I certainly hope so," said Washington. "I paid a good deal of money for someone to get these out of the old Archives for me. I'm just sad to be short the one really vital document that belongs in this collection."

Ellen glanced over her shoulder at that, and then at the wall. There were only so many other documents that ranked in the same league as the Constitution, if her historical knowledge was right. "What, you really think there's a Declaration of Independence out there somewhere?"

"Not just somewhere," Washington said. "Right here in the DC ruins itself. Your knowledge of American History is most impressive."

"I grew up in a Vault," Ellen said. "I had a very good teacher."

"So I see." Washington adjusted his glasses. "You can understand, then, why I lament the lack of the Declaration? What an amazing crown jewel that would be! The original document created by the people, for the people."

Ellen looked at the wall again for a while. "It sounds," she said slowly, "like you know where it is."

"Most assuredly," Washington said. "The National Archives building was reinforced before the War to stand up to just about any kind of attack you could mention. All of these papers came from its underground strongrooms."

"mm." Ellen considered the declaration of war on China a moment. "You said you paid for them? Is there someone selling the Archive's contents?" It sounded like something the Brotherhood might be interested in.

"Oh, no," Washington said. "No, there was a young woman who specialized in finding relics in the ruins; I paid her to bring back each one of these. Unfortunately, she's taken her caps and gone off to retire somewhere, damn the luck."

Mr. Brotch, Ellen felt, would probably want the documents preserved and safe. If they had lasted hundreds of years in the Archives, they'd probably last even longer left alone. On the other hand, left there, no one would ever see them, let alone remember or appreciate the contents.

And- she hated thinking it, but there it was- Washington had mentioned caps. Documents didn't cut your fingers off...

"That's a shame," she said slowly. "For her, anyway. What sort of pay were you giving her?"

The door opens onto ruin and rust, buildings blown apart and left for time and sun and God alone knows what else to work them over. Ellen wrinkles her nose as she holds the door open. "Sorry about the smell," she says, "but nobody lives here except ghouls and a couple of bandit types. We'll be heading west to get you that armor and stop at Big Town; the doctor there gave me one of those holotapes."

"Dr. Preston. I- you don't know me, no. No, I'm not sick. You might know my father, I don't know- James Park? Do you- oh, good, you know the name… why am I here? I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about androids… sir, I would appreciate it if you'd stop laughing at me."

"Seagrave? You were right about the Staleys delivering food to Dr. Li and my dad. Dr. Li's been hiding from somebody and I'm trying to get him off her back… yes, that guy from the Commonwealth. Was he bothering you too? … ugh. I'm sorry. I won't ask you anything, then, you don't- oh. Thank you, I didn't- well, I guess you do catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Whatever honey is, anyway. Thank you, I'll listen to the tape later."

"Moira! Hi! Yeah, I know, I haven't been in town for a while. I've been really busy… what happened to Moriarty? Seriously? Does Sheriff Simms know? … okay, stupid question, of course he knows. Listen, you mentioned a trader who sold you that RobCo widget- do you remember his name, or where I could find him? I've got a robot I'm looking for. No, a particular robot…"

"Hi, Gob. Good to see you again. How're things going around here now that Nova's in charge? I still can't believe it… all I want is a drink. Unless you know anything about androids… yeah, I didn't think so. It's okay. Can I get a Nuka-Cola, please?"

"Sir? Mr…. Tinker Joe, is it? My name's Ellen Park, and I've been looking for you for quite a while now. I've been told you know a good deal about getting robots fixed and modified. Would you happen to know anything about memory modifications on high-end, super-sophisticated robots? … really?"

"Sir, you and the rest of Talon Company are only just beginning to try my patience. How many times do I have to say this? Did the last guy not survive the trip?"

"Hi, Red. Good to see you and the rest of Big Town again. Um, can I get a little assistance here? I ran out of stimpaks before they ran out of bullets… yeah. I'll be more careful next time. My armor's already given me enough hell for it, you don't have to- yes, my armor. It talks. By the way, I don't know if you'd be able to help me at all, but… well, it's kind of a stretch at this point. I'm looking for a robot of sorts…"

"Dammit, greenskin! KNEES ARE A PRIVILEGE!"

"Flak!" called Ellen as she stepped into the cavernous room that housed Rivet City's marketplace. "Oh, wow, am I ever glad to see you!"

The big, broad-shouldered gun-seller looked up from his wares. "Hey, kid," he called back gruffly. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again so soon. Need to do some killing, eh?"

Ellen winced, and did her best to unobtrusively brush some of the dried gore off her armor; she'd tried to clean herself up after the Talons ambushed her at the old Metro station, but it hadn't entirely worked. "Kind of the opposite, actually," she said. "I'm a little tired of having to run like a radroach to keep people from aiming for my head. You don't sell helmets by any chance, do you?"

"Naw. The only armor Shrapnel and I keep around, we use for proving our guns are good," Flak said. "Try Seagrave Holmes. He might've gotten something in."

"Thank you," said Ellen. "Oh, before I forget- do you have any room in your inventory for a flamer? I know one that needs a good home."

"Kid," said Flak solemnly, "I always have room. Bring it on."

One massive, reeking combat flamethrower later, the dead Talons had a little less stuff to accompany them into the afterlife, and Ellen had three hundred more caps to her name. Seagrave, alas, had no helmets to offer either, although he was more than happy to top off her stimpak supply. She made a mental note to talk to Crow the armor-seller the next time he stopped here; she had about enough caps on her now to stay a few nights at the Weatherley Hotel in the upper decks and still afford at least a basic helmet, if she was careful. "Thanks anyway, Seagrave," she said regretfully. "I'd better go find Dad now. You haven't seen him around, have you?"

"Middle-aged, gray hair, looks like you? Oh, he came in here a while ago," said Seagrave, turning back to straighten out his display of Nuka-Cola bottles. As he lined up the boxes of Abraxo and Suds-a-Lot Detergent beside them he added, "Far as I know, he's been with Dr. Li and her crew ever since. I've seen Angela head out of Gary's Galley a couple of times with trays of food and come back empty-handed, and Gary doesn't usually deliver food for anybody but Dr. Li, so whatever they're working on's probably got 'em real tied up."

Ellen nodded. "Good to know," she said. "Thanks."

"Come back any time!"

She rather liked Rivet City, when it came right down to it. Yes, it was old and rusty in places, and it needed a great deal of maintenance and pick-up before it was in any kind of really good condition, but there was something awfully comforting about the tunnels and cramped rooms compared to Megaton. Just because she'd been on the surface for a good long while now didn't mean nineteen years of Vault living were completely behind her. Admittedly, she'd never had to navigate the Vault's corridors with an eye to whether her armor would fit, or with a dog at her heels, but still, Rivet City felt more like her old home than anywhere else she'd been so far.

She was turning the thought over in her mind as she stepped into the science lab. She should've been paying attention. "Hey!" cried the jumpsuited man who'd been just inside the door. A clipboard and a toolbox went flying across the catwalk. "Watch where you're going!"

"Ack! I'm sorry," Ellen said, instantly contrite; Dogmeat skittered to one side. "I didn't-"

"No, I don't imagine you did," said the man. "Just come waltzing in here and expect everybody to drop everything they'd been working on- typical, really."

Ellen blinked, taken aback by the rancor in his tone. "Sir, I really didn't mean to bump into you," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Pff. Whatever. Why don't you try staying out of the way and letting people do some real work," the man muttered. He grabbed up his toolbox, scrambled for his clipboard, and stalked off.

Ellen watched him go, bewildered. "What did I say?" she wondered of no one in particular.

"Oh, don't worry about Daniel," came the unexpected answer from below. Ellen moved to peer over the railing; the speaker was a man not much older than herself, clad in a worn labcoat and suit. "He's never been a fan of your father's- you're James' daughter, aren't you?"

Ellen nodded mutely.

"I'm Alex Dargon. Pleased to meet you. Come on down, I hate shouting."

"All right." Ellen whistled to Dogmeat and started down the stairs. "He knew my father?"

"Sort of, from what I understand," said Alex. "He's an engineer. He was Dr. Li's assistant back when everyone was working at Project Purity. Daniel's been grouching about your father pulling out and leaving everybody high and dry ever since James came back here the other day. Not to mention how much of a disruption his showing up out of nowhere caused. Dr. Li hasn't been able to get any work done on our hydroponics projects since.."

"Oh," said Ellen, feeling very small. She hadn't actually thought of that.

"To tell you the truth-" Alex leaned in closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "To tell you the truth, we weren't getting that much done anyway. Your father's not the first disruption around here, he's just the easiest target."

"I... okay?" said Ellen hesitantly. "I'm sorry? What's the other problem, then?"

"Easier to show you. Come on." Alex led the way across the lab space Ellen had only visited once before, skirting a number of generators and pieces of humming equipment she didn't recognize. "He showed up a little bit after your father got here and he won't give up until somebody agrees to help him. If it comes right down to it I think Dr. Li could still get her work done even with your father here, but she's trying to avoid this guy..."

"-insist on speaking with Dr. Li herself! Directly! You people should know this by now!" came the voice from the little cluster of people ahead of them. "Tell Li I refuse to leave until she stops playing with her chemistry set and starts talking real science!"

The speaker was a bald man of considerable years, dressed in a pre-war suit as clean and new as any Ellen had ever seen. He looked as if he meant to shove the haggard, lab-coated young woman who stood between him and the door to Dr. Li's conference room aside physically. As the woman drew breath to speak, Ellen leaned over and said, a little more loudly than necessary, "Sir? What's going on?"

He spun around to face her, blinking at her from behind thick, black-framed glasses. "You there! What are you, some kind of lab assistant?"

Ellen looked down at her still-spattered armor and then up again at the man.

"No," he continued, "you look a bit more... weathered. Are you by any chance for hire?"

The woman in the lab coat shot Ellen a grateful look as Ellen answered, "That depends. What exactly are we talking about here?"

"I need a local," the man said. "Someone with verve. I've misplaced some very sensitive property."

"And you think Dr. Li has it?"

"Not precisely," said the man. "How do I put this in a way you'll understand?"

Ellen suddenly became aware that he wasn't alone; a grim-faced, dark-haired man of indeterminate years was standing behind him, holding an assault rifle. She couldn't place how long he'd been standing there. It made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle uneasily.

"All you know of robots are those buckets of bolts- those Mr. Handshakers and whatnot," the old man continued. "Well, that's not all a robot can be. You see, in the Commonwealth- that's north of here, quite a long way north- we've made artificial persons. Synthetic humanoids! Programmed to think and feel and do whatever we need."

Ellen nodded, and stole a glance at the dark-haired man to see if he had anything to add. There wasn't the slightest change to his expression, though there might have been a momentary flicker of orange to his eyes. She really couldn't say.

"And... occasionally they get confused and wander off," the old man said.

"That... sounds like slavery to me," Ellen said carefully. "I know my Mr. Handy's pretty limited, but if these synthetic people-"

"Androids."

"If these androids can think and feel properly, are you sure they don't wander off on purpose?"

"Nonsense!" the old man said with a laugh. "This is a machine we're talking about. Can you enslave a generator, or a water purifier? Of course not. The same principle applies. But let's get back to your mission. Since Dr. Li won't assist me, I'm going to need you to find this missing android. I've tracked him to somewhere here in the Capital Wasteland. He must have done something drastic, like facial surgery and a mind wipe, or else I would have found him by now."

"Is it really surgery if it's on a robot?" Ellen said curiously.

"You have no idea of the sophistication of these androids," the old man said. "None whatsoever. I assure you, the procedure would be almost identical to something similar performed on a human. Androids have simulated skin, and blood, and are programmed to simulate human behavior like breathing. They can even eat and digest food realistically. Finding him will be no easy task, but corralling him would be even worse, so don't upset him by talking with him. Just come and report his position to me immediately, and I'll handle it myself."

"And if I do this," Ellen said, "you'll leave the scientists here to their work?"

"If you can call this science," the man muttered. "But yes. There's no point in bothering them if someone else is doing their job for them. And you'll be compensated- rather nicely, in fact. I have at my disposal advanced technology from the Commonwealth. I'd be willing to share some it with you. Just think, you'll be the envy of all your friends?"

Ellen thought of Tyler for a moment, and Alyx, and Paladin Hoss. She doubted any of them would be impressed with much about this whole situation, but nodded anyway. If it meant getting this man off Dr. Li's back so she and Dad could serve Rivet City and get the groundwork laid for reclaiming-

Oh crumbs. Oh blast it, even if she rounded up an army at Milliways she was going to have to come up with some kind of standing guard to keep the mutants from attacking the Memorial again, since the Brotherhood probably couldn't spare the men. She was going to have to hire someone like Reilly and her people, or Dad was. That was going to mean a lot of money... or a lot of tech she could turn over to the Brotherhood. If they couldn't guard the place, they'd at least pay her enough to get guards. On the other hand, she had no guarantee this man was telling the truth about anything- either the tech at his disposal, or the sophistication of the android..

Well, if she agreed to do this searching, at least he would leave Dad and Dr. Li alone. That would be worth it, whatever else happened.

"Sure," she said. "I'll locate your android for you."

"Excellent!" The man's face brightened considerably. "Do so, and you won't be disappointed. Here-" He handed her a holotape. "Listen to this message he sent me when you get the chance. He's mocking me. I swear I'll make him pay for that."

"All right," said Ellen. "Uh- who do I look for when I find him?"

"My name is Dr. Zimmer," said the man, "and this is my bodyguard, Armitage. I have a room at the Weatherly here. Look for either one of us when you've located my property."

Ellen nodded. "Dr. Zimmer," she repeated. "I'll remember that."

If the Brotherhood guards thought anything of the carnage that Ellen and Alyx had wrought at the Lincoln Memorial, or even knew of it at all, there was no sign of it. Ellen had used the last few shots from the odd alien pistol to burn the slaver and mutant bodies together- Hannibal's people didn't need rotting corpses to greet them- but the blood splattered over stone and dirt alike remained. No one had entered the storerooms below the Memorial either, from what Ellen could tell. Well, thank goodness for small favors; Hannibal's people were going to need all the cleansers they could get if this place was ever going to be fit to live in. The only sign that anything at all had entered the Memorial in her absence was a nasty infestation of radroaches, but they were easy enough to put down. Ellen did her best to get the corpses out of the building and the guts off the floor before heading back down to the Metro entrance where the former slaves were waiting.

"Is it safe?" Hannibal asked. "Has anyone taken the place since-"

"No." Ellen shook her head. "Not that I can see." She paused. "It's still a bloody mess, though. If you don't mind, I'd like to help you and your people clean it up."

"Let us have a look at it first," said Hannibal. "There... may be some reminders we'll want to keep. To ensure neither we, nor anyone else, forgets what kind of price freedom has."

Ellen nodded. "This way, then," she said. As the caravan- Hannibal and Caleb in the lead, Enrique and Perlie and Somersett in the middle, Bill and Alejandra and Simone bringing up the rear- started moving forward she added, "I got rid of all the mines I could, but there may still be a few here and there. Do any of your people know how to disarm proximity mines?"

"I do," Simone volunteered. "I worked as a merc before those slaver bastards got me."

"Good," said Ellen. "In that case you should know that I kept the mines I removed. They're in a storeroom downstairs, along with a bunch of ammunition and some grenades and things. If you can make use of them you might want to look into it. The mutants are really bad around here and you never know when one'll get past the Brotherhood guys."

Simone nodded, flashing a brief but quite real grin. "I think that'll do nicely," she said. "Thanks."

Then they were at the Memorial steps, and there was no more talking. Ellen cringed a little at the pockmarks left by bullets old and new, and the gouges from this or that explosive. Hannibal didn't seem to mind, though. He didn't even seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on what lay beyond, in the shadows of the building itself. A more poetic universe would have bestowed a single slanting ray of sunlight on the headless statue of Lincoln as Hannibal crossed the threshold; this one only coughed up a distant sound of gunfire that faded away to silence. Even the pack Brahmin's two heads fell quiet. There was only the patter of Hannibal's feet against the marble as he moved forward to look up at the statue, and the carven words on the wall beyond.

"'In giving freedom to the slave,'" Hannibal finally said, more to the statue than to any of the people who had come with him, "'we assure freedom to the free— honorable alike in what we give, and what we preserve. We shall nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best, hope of Earth.'"

There was nothing at all Ellen could say to that.

Hannibal turned around, and he smiled. "Welcome, my friends," he said then. "Welcome to your new homes. Sister, we have very little we can give you in return for all you and your companions have done for us-"

Ellen started to shake her head, started to say they didn't have to offer anything, but Hannibal was still speaking. "-but know that you are always welcome here among us should your travels ever bring you this way again. The free people of this Wasteland will never forget you."

"Sir, I..." She spread her hands helplessly. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, we can't all be as eloquent as Lincoln," said Hannibal with a smile. "But I understand. Now, if you don't mind, I think Caleb wants to get to work..."

Well. Reilly's been dealt with, and her people are happy with that. It's time to go back to the basics now. Ellen needs to get herself out to the Lincoln Memorial and check things over so that she can report to the slaves and get them set up before getting back to Rivet City. Of course, from what she remembers from Mr. Mills' world, the Memorial has decent lines of sight and a fairly strategic location. There are Brotherhood of Steel patrols around the base of the Washington Monument; that implies that if there are mutants holed up in the Memorial, they must be pretty well established, otherwise the Brotherhood would've gone after them. Too bad Tulip was out of Stealth Boys when Ellen stopped by her place in Underworld. Maybe she can get one from the bar....

Annabelle will no doubt recognize the cast of the sunlight and the thin dry feel of the air when she and Ellen emerge at last from the reeking Metro tunnels. They're on the opposite side of the Mall from last time, though, and the steps up on this side aren't anywhere near the same- they're rusted, corroded, two-hundred-year-old escalator steps, frozen in place with the weight of time and decay. "I don't hear too much from here," Ellen reports, "but I'm all out of Stealth Boys, so we'd better be careful. There might be mutants."

Ellen made a mental note to swing by Canterbury Commons and buy as many stimpaks as she could carry when she headed back south. The blond man, Perlie Garner, had been stung by a radscorpion before Ellen could kill it and she'd had to use up most of her own supply to save him. As it was, well- up ahead there was a ruin that might've been an office building once, and that was the only relatively-intact building standing anywhere in sight. If it wasn't the Temple that they'd been looking for, it would at least be a place to rest.

As they approached the building, someone inside darted past one of the gaping holes in the wall where windows had been. "What's your business, stranger?" a woman's voice called out.

"We're slaves," called Enrique, the tanned man. "Escaped slaves, trying to find the Temple of the Union. Please, we've been on the run so long-"

"Fine, fine- what about her, though?" The speaker peered out a little longer now, her face pale and weathered, her eyes distrustful. "Runaways don't wind up with that kind of gear."

"I've been escorting these gentlemen," said Ellen in answer. "For safety's sake."

The woman wrinkled her nose. "Hnf. All right. Hannibal says I gotta let folks like you in along with folks like them, but that don't mean I have to like it," she grumbled. "Keep your hands in sight and don't make any sudden moves. I'm coming down to open the gate."

She disappeared. Ellen glanced at the three men, but their attention was on the gate like Dogmeat's on a half-open can of Cram. Ellen couldn't really blame them; she turned back in time to catch a muttered 'Out of my way' and the sound of a lock squeaking open. "Okay," said the woman. "Hannibal's upstairs somewhere. You three go on up and see him first, and then he wants to talk to you." She nodded to Ellen as she locked the door. "Don't try anything."

"I wasn't planning on it," Ellen said mildly.

The woman grunted and leaned back against a nearby wall, her eyes on Ellen and her rifle in her hands. Ellen did her best to ignore the angry glare, instead looking around. There was no roof on the building, and the upper floors were so battered and broken that sunshine reached the ground floor in places. A scrawny but otherwise healthy-looking dog, who had something of Dogmeat's look to him, was sprawled in one of the sunnier patches. Off to one side, a dark-skinned, muscular man in leathers and pre-war goggles was at work on some slab of stone with a hammer and a chisel. There was a Brahmin about somewhere, too- Ellen couldn't see it, but she could certainly smell it. Possibly it was outside, or behind one of the closed doors- the building had been fairly large once and for all she knew the back room might've been converted into an impromptu stable...

"Send her up," came a man's voice from overhead.

"You heard the man." The woman gestured with her rifle. "Go on, get going."

Ellen clucked once to Dogmeat and started up the stairs. Enrique and the last of the three escapees were seated at a crudely-propped up table, eating; Perlie was being led towards a closed door towards the back of the building. Towards the front of the building, for no reason that Ellen could discern, was a sizable stone head of Abraham Lincoln. There were several other people there that she didn't recognize, and one of them, a skinny man several shades darker than Sheriff Simms in a suit of bodged-together combat armor, was coming her way. "Ah," he said, "our visitor. Welcome to the Temple of the Union. I am Hannibal Hamlin. I'm not going to ask who you are. For the moment, I don't care. We are all escaped slaves here, and I need your solemn promise not to betray us to Paradise Falls or the slavers. Until I get that, you cannot leave here. So, do I have your word?"

She glanced over at Enrique and Somersett, and then back at the man speaking to her. It seemed a pointless thing to ask in the light of evidence, but- "All right," she said. "I promise."

The dark man nodded, smiled. "Welcome, sister, to the Temple of the Union. Our home is your home. Your past is your own affair, so long as you serve our common good. As a symbol of our trust, here is a key to the gate."

Ellen blinked; she hadn't expected that. "Thanks," she said as Hannibal deposited the key in her upturned palm. "Um. What's the deal with the head, there?"

"That's Abraham Lincoln, the Great Emancipator," said Hannibal. "We don't know how it came to be here, but it's fitting, don't you think?"

"About the only better option would be Harriet Tubman," said Ellen, who'd paid attention in her American History classes. "So you were-"

"For twenty-three years I was a slave, ever since I was fourteen," Hannibal said. "Six years ago I managed to escape from my master, a coastal trader named Tobar. He's been hunting me ever since. When I found the head of Lincoln here, I knew it was a sign for me to help other slaves to escape. I founded the Temple of the Union as a safe haven for runaway slaves everywhere."

Ellen nodded, glancing around at the other people on their floor. "It looks like you're off to a good start," she murmured, not knowing what else to say. That sort of thing was well outside her experience.

"Maybe," Hamlin demurred. "We want to create a haven for all runaway slaves. We give food and supplies to any that find us, and help them on their way. If we had the room, or the water, we would let them stay, but- well, look around you. It's not much more than a waypoint, at best." His expression brightened, growing more intense as he added, "I have a plan, though. A plan to take over a place that will be a shining beacon of hope for all slaves."

"Um," said Ellen. "'Take over'?"

"Not like that, I assure you," Hamlin said. "I want to move all my people to the Memorial site for the great Abraham Lincoln, but I need to know if it's safe. I've heard rumors of supermutants infesting the area, you see. We've been debating who to send to investigate for a while now."

Well, Ellen had to go into the DC ruins anyway, and Mr. Mills had taken her to his world's Memorial. If she could get into the Metro system again she could come up close enough to the Washington Monument that the Memorial would be in sight, and then from there a tunnel trip to Rivet City would be simple enough. "I think," she said, "that I could help you with that."

"I was hoping you would help us," Hamlin admitted. "Do you know the ruins at all?"

"I've been in and out a few times."

"Good," said Hamlin. The Memorial lies at the western end of the National Mall, beyond the Washington Monument. It should be easy enough to find. One other thing- talk to Caleb Smith, downstairs, before you set out. He'll need your help. We can't leave unless he's ready, too."

Ellen cocked her head curiously. "What does he need?"

"He was a stonemason. It will fall to him to restore the Memorial as best he can. He's been pestering me for weeks now to get him some things he needs. I don't have time to deal with him right now."

Ellen's eyebrows went up, but she nodded. "I'd better get busy, then."

Hamlin bowed his head. "May the spirit of the great Lincoln protect you."

Caleb, Ellen guessed, was the dark man working on the stone downstairs. As she approached she saw that it was an ancient marble slab, that there had been words carved in it once. Only a few letters were even remotely readable now. Caleb was busily working away at some of the letters, stone dust hanging in the air around him. At Ellen's approach he said, "You're new. I'm Caleb. If you're going to be staying a while, I could use some help."

"Actually," Ellen said, "Hannibal tells me you need something?"

Caleb straightened up, wiping his forehead on the back of one arm. "Hannibal told you about Lincoln's Memorial?" he said curiously. When Ellen nodded, he went on. "Well, he doesn't just want to live there. He also wants to restore it. Make it so people tell stories about it and the word can get to the slaves. But I can't restore something if I don't know what it looked like. I need a drawing or a photograph of it when it was in its prime."

Ellen thought for a moment of Milliways, but just said, "And I bet you know where I can find one."

"Yes." Caleb gestured southward with his chisel. "There might be one in the Museum of History. Alejandra says there was an exhibit going on about Lincoln when the bombs fell. If you could bring it back for me-"

"I'll see what I can do," Ellen promised. There were ruins enough along the route south, she was sure. At least one would ahve a door she could try. "I'd better get going."

"Thanks," said Caleb, and flashed a dazzling smile. "Take care out there."

It was still dark when Ellen and her father and Dogmeat emerged from the depths of Smith Casey's garage. A faint glow stained the very edge of the eastern skies, barely enough to even notice. Ellen shook her head. "I didn't think we'd spent that long in there," she murmured.

"One loses track of time in circumstances such as those," James said. "How's your Pip-Boy's light holding up?"

For answer, Ellen switched it on, bathing the area in front of them with enough light to navigate by. There was a wordless agreement between the two of them: dark as it was, dangerous as it might be, neither of them wanted to be anywhere near that Vault's entrance so much as a moment longer than they had to. And if nothing else, at least the sun was coming up. They picked their way in silence along southward and then east along the scabrous grey rock that was all that remained of an ancient road. As the eastern skies began to fade from black to blue, Ellen heard a gurgling noise. She glanced curiously at her father, whose expression was mildly tinged by embarrassment. "Did you want to stop?" she asked.

"I didn't think I was going to need to eat so soon after those pods," James murmured. "You haven't got anything extra in that pack of yours, have you?"

"Actually, yes," Ellen said with a suppressed smile. "I only found out about this garage from a trader I ran into, Doc Hoff- I topped up my supplies with him just in case. Find somewhere to sit, I'll see if I can get a fire going."

"You seem to have adapted pretty well to life on the surface," James observed once Ellen's fire was well under way. "Who taught you about burning Brahmin chips?"

"Nobody, exactly," Ellen admitted, shifting her weight. Sitting on the road in the armor wasn't particularly easy. "There's enough people in Megaton who do it that I picked up the idea on my own."

"Megaton. You're living there now?" James lifted one eyebrow, a feat Ellen had never been very good at.

Ellen nodded, and added a few more chips to the fire; it would be a while before there was enough sun to warm the Wasteland air.

"Did you really disarm that bomb?" James asked. When Ellen looked up, wide-eyed, he pointed to his Pip-Boy. "You're not the only one to get Three Dog's signal, you know."

"Oh- well-" Ellen ducked her head, embarrassed. "I had to study up for days first, but-"

"Ellen, that's nothing short of incredible," James said. With a shake of his head and just a hint of a smile he added, "Your mother would be so proud of you."

Ellen thought back to the great looming shape of the Failsafe Terminal in the moments before she activated the Chinese invasion program. "I- I don't know, Dad-"

"Well, you should." James pointed at her. "I heard what Braun wanted you to do, you know. He would never have stopped with just making you make the Nussbaum boy cry."

"I had a feeling," Ellen admitted. "But-"

"Hmm?"

She looked down and drew a deep, deep breath. "Even if... what I did in there. Even if that was the right thing... Dad, there's been so much else..."

"I thought there might be," James murmured. "And we'll talk about it. All of it. But first I really would like to get something a little more solid than pod nutrient solution into me."

"Whoops. Sorry," Ellen said, and dug out the cans of Cram she'd bought from Doc Hoff and the bottles of water she'd been carrying since Megaton. "Will this be all right?"

"Definitely." James smiled. "I believe I've got my knife around here somewhere..."

The Cram cooked up rather nicely once cut into thin enough slices, and made for a reasonably palatable breakfast. Ellen set part of it aside for Dogmeat- the last thing she needed was for him to run off after a molerat in search of his own meal. "Where'd he come from?" James inquired around a mouthful of Cram. "I don't recall any like him in Megaton."

"No, I got him from farther north," Ellen said. "I'd taken a message from Lucy West up to her family in Arefu, only there was a problem..."

He gestured to her to go on, and she did, first about Arefu and then about the Family, and then about Dogmeat and the Scrapyard and a dozen other things that had happened. The fire had all but burnt out and the remaining Cram had long since gone cold when he finally shook his head. "Ellen, that's incredible. For you to have come so far, through so much trouble, and still have the core of the young woman I remember-"

( "So, you're worried he won't recognise you?" )

She couldn't quite speak. She just swallowed, and did her best to smile.

"The Wasteland's not a good place, Ellen. Not unless people make it so," said her father a little more seriously. "And I think we both know how easy it is not to do that. The fact that you've kept at it in spite of everything- yes, including Andale- well. That takes a very special kind of person."

"I-"

But she never finished the sentence. Dogmeat leaped abruptly to his feet, growling. A ragged, worn-looking group of figures was stumbling their way. "Oh, God," said their leader, a man of dull brown hair and dark tan skin. An odd, heavy-looking collar encircled his neck. "Please- you've got to help us- I don't know how long we've got before these collars go off!"

James' expression hardened. "Slave collars," he translated, for Ellen's sake. "Paradise Falls uses them to control their captives. If they try to escape- boom."

The man and his companions all nodded. "Can you help us? We'll do anything-"

"I can try," Ellen said. "I have a little experience. Hold very, very still."

It was touchy work, but not much more so than the landmines Moira had taught her to defuse, and Ellen had grown used to working quickly under awful circumstances. As she started on the third collar her father said, "I'm surprised you got this far south."

"We're not coming from Paradise Falls," said the second man, leathery-skinned and blond from too much sun. "Those slaver bastards bought us up months ago, south of here, past the old car tunnel. When they stopped to clear out a bunch of ghouls west of here we got away. We'd be goners by now if they'd noticed we were missing."

The third collar came away from the man's neck with a click. Ellen looked down at the things with some distaste, then turned and flung them, one at a time, as far southward as she could. If they were going to explode, let them explode somewhere that would only harm the landscape.

"Thank you," said the third man. "Oh, thank you. We owe you our lives."

"Will you be going back now?" said James. "Where's home for you three?"

"Nowhere," said the first man. "There's nothing left. First came the mutants, then the slavers- I don't wanna know what's living there now."

"So what happens to you, then?" Ellen asked. Mentally she ran a finger down the list of places she knew that might take in three strangers; it wasn't a long list.

"Well-" The third man fidgeted. "Some of the other slaves were talking about a place far to the north, past ... Canterbury Commons? I'm not sure where that is-"

"I am," Ellen murmured. "Go on."

"A- all right- anyway, they said it was a place where slaves were made into free men. Where we'd find sanctuary. We were going to try and find it..."

Ellen cast an eye over the ragged figures. There was no way they'd last on their own, she was sure of it; if they had so much as a single weapon among them, she didn't want to know where they'd hidden it. They looked underfed, dehydrated, and- not to put too fine a point on it- sick in more than a few ways. They didn't even know where Canterbury was. If she just sent them on their way as was it would be nothing short of murder. She bit her lip, then half-turned. "Dad?"

"I can reach Rivet City on my own," was his surprisingly gentle response.

She blinked, and turned the rest of the way. "How did you-"

"Ellen," said her father, "I think, after everything that's happened, that I know at least a little bit about what I can expect from you. Go on. You know you want to."

.... he was right. Ellen nodded, and turned back to the ragged men. "Like I said before," she said, "I know where Canterbury is. And we can probably find this Temple of yours without too much trouble between the lot of us. Would you three gentlemen like an escort?"