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praeliasdecorum · 7 years ago

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Children of the Vault: Chapter 1

2282

“Faster.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Rochelle spared a glance to the Overseer. He, as usual, wore a pair of khakis and a button up shirt under his lab coat. Coffee was in his hand – a luxury she knew most of the Wasteland lacked – and his eyes were clearly tired. Given the fact that he was 78 years old, she wasn't surprised at the exhaustion.

The man smirked. It was clear, however, that it was out of annoyance rather than amusement. “I’m sure, Doctor Morris. Clearly, you don’t understand how things work just yet; you do what I say, when I say, without question on these kids. If you can’t do that, you get dealt with just like the sub-par experiments do. Clear?”

Murder. That’s what he meant. The children that didn’t meet the Vault’s standards were incinerated, apparently along with any scientists that Overseer Hayes deemed unfit to do their jobs. The woman hesitated, but adjusted the treadmill’s speed as she’d been directed to. On it was a girl, about seventeen, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was one of their most promising subjects, and she’d been running on that damn thing for about a day and a half. Her endurance was astounding. Any other subject except for James Smith would’ve collapsed by now. Those two, though? They were incredible.

“Doctor Morris,” the Overseer growled, “Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered.

“Good. Now, let me know when she passes out. She’s been going for a while and I want to know what her limits are.” He eyed the girl for a moment before stepping out of the observation room. There were two floors to the vault; the research staff was above, and the experiments were down below. Rather than interacting with children (and risking the staff getting attached), they watched and conducted the experiments from the upper floor and observed through their glass floors.

Rochelle remained silent once Hayes had left, keeping an eye on the girl. Finally, after thirty five hours of running, Alma Lancaster fainted, and she shut the treadmill off. After doing so, she watched as a pair of synths cleaned the girl up and returned her to the sleeping quarters.

---

Alma woke with a groan. Her head pounded, her body was sore, and she was dying for a drink.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” A boy was next to her bed, a smile plastered onto his face. He was tall, with sandy blonde hair and bright green eyes. Like her, he was thin, but his muscles were well defined. In his hands were a bottle of water and a sweet roll. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, holding the items out to her, “Here.”

She sat up and snatched the water from him, chugging it within moments and then tossing it to the foot of the bed. Her limbs quivered, probably weak from exhaustion. “How long did I go for?” she asked, looking to the boy as she took the sweet roll.

He grinned. “You beat me. You went for thirty five hours. I went for thirty four and a half.”

“Don’t mess with me, James,” she warned, “How long did I run?”

“Thirty five,” he repeated with a laugh. “Seriously, Alma. Ask the doctor yourself if you don’t believe me. Or any of the other kids. We were all watching.”

The girl broke out into a grin. The extra thirty minutes would bump her up to top of their class, at least in endurance. In everything else, she was tied with James, with the exception of weapons and combat. He was always a hair faster than her, no matter how much practice she put in. "Rohit too?"

"Rohit too," he confirmed.

"Good. Now maybe he'll stop treating me like glass." She took the sweet roll from her companion, tearing off a piece and popping it into her mouth.

"I doubt it." James leaned back in his chair. "He's your brother. That's what they do."

She shrugged. "Maybe brothers in Uptopland just let their sisters do what they want."

"Uptopland is full of people who need help, Alma." He eyed her. "You shouldn't joke about them. They've got it rough."

"What, and we don't?" Her gaze shifted from the bed to James. "A girl died last week because the researchers exposed her to so much radiation that her skin peeled off, James. Another kid died last year because he had a heart attack on the treadmills we did so well on. Those researchers are killing us, and we don't have a way to leave."

"Alma." His voice was hard as he stared her down. "Shut up. We're gonna leave at Graduation, and we're gonna help those people. That's all we need to worry about." The kids Alma was talking about had both been thirteen when they'd died. Truth be told, he resented the Vault's research staff. But talking about it? Out loud? If anyone overheard, he and Alma would surely face some kind of punishment. He wasn’t about to let her get herself into trouble. She was probably still exhausted from the treadmill; maybe not physically, but at least mentally. Her behavior made that clear. She was always cranky when she was tired, and she always lost her filter.

"Yeah, but who's gonna help us?" she muttered. Her eyes move back to the bed.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "Talking like that's gonna get you in trouble. So eat your sweet roll, and then we'll go to class."

Her eyes flashed with excitement. "History?"

James smiled a little. She'd always enjoyed that subject. It'd probably be enough to pull her out of her sour mood. "Yeah, history."

---

William Hayes watched his subjects through a small window in the door. Inside the classroom, they were sitting quietly in their assigned desks, their gazes turned towards the front of the room, just as they’d been taught to do. Last time he’d been to the room, a teacher’s desk was at the back of the room with a terminal on it. This time, the desk was at the front of the room and the terminal had been mounted to the wall nearby. He observed the children a few moments longer before entering, large strides quickly taking him to the front of the room. He set the clipboard he’d been carrying on a desk at the front of the room before turning to the terminal and entering the password. “Good morning, students,” he greeted.

“Good morning, Overseer Hayes,” was the monotone response.

They were like drones, he thought. Every one of the children followed protocol flawlessly. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. It kept them in line and made experiments easier, but the purpose of Vault 75 was to improve the human gene pool. They needed to produce stronger, smarter children. Drones weren’t what Vault-Tec , or the Institute, had in mind.

Of course, if they

did

produce what Vault-Tec wanted, the children would likely rebel. They wouldn’t stay and subject themselves to countless experiments. There were no guards and there was no defense system aside from the Vault’s door, so the children could move straight to the research team without opposition. The staff, while much more intelligent than most of the subjects, were no match for them physically. There was no question about it; a rebellion would mean the end of Vault 75 and the death of his entire team.

Maybe one day he’d figure out a solution to that problem.

Upon finding the file he’d gone in search of, Hayes turned to face the class. “Today, we’re discussing Uptopland.” He clasped his hands together, raising a brow as he surveyed the room. The children exchanged glances excitedly. Given, they weren't really children anymore; the youngest, Nina Kurt, was twelve, and the oldest, Alma, James, and Rohit, were seventeen. Despite their age, they didn’t realize what a silly name ‘Uptopland’ was. They also failed to realize that they’d never make it to Uptopland.

Seventeen years of experimenting on those three, and Rohit still wasn't up to par. Given, most of them weren’t and Rohit had been subject to different experiments than Alma and James, so he couldn’t be too disappointed.

"Can anyone tell me what you'll be doing in Uptopland?" Overseer Hayes asked. Several hands shot up in response, for which he was pleased. “Rohit, why don’t you tell us?” The boy’s hand hadn’t been one of those raised, but Hayes was curious as to what the boy’s answer would be. He definitely didn’t have his sister’s mind and, frankly, his memory wasn’t the greatest. He had a hard time retaining information that he should, such as the vault dog’s name, the date, the year. Simple things.

Rohit glanced up from his hands, which were clasped on his desk. “To help people,” he said.

That was the simple answer, and they all knew it. Hayes turned to Alma. “Care to elaborate, Miss Lancaster?”

Alma smiled, clearly glad for the opportunity. She had a rivalry with James and they constantly tried to one-up the other, always showing off and always trying to sabotage each other. Of course, they didn’t take it personally; being top of the class was a huge accomplishment, and if the experiments or challenges were made more difficult, the research staff were able to get better results. Once, during an agility test, James had rigged the course so it’d break. Alma had broken her arm, but still finished the course. “Well,” she began, “We’re going to start by helping settlements. Making sure they’re safe, teaching them how to effectively patrol their territory, teaching them how to farm better, maybe give them some of our seeds so they can eat more than mutfruit and tatos.”

“And then?” Hayes raised his brow.

“And then, we head west, doing the same thing till we get in touch with the NCR.”

“Why the NCR? Why not the Enclave, or the Minutemen?”

“Because the NCR wants to bring back laws and government and peace. The Enclave is just a bunch of elitists, and the Minutemen just protect people, they don’t seem to know much about the government, and they don’t have the same manpower as the NCR.” She shrugged. “In short, the NCR is probably the best bet we can make as far as helping to restore peace and stuff to the country.”

Hayes leaned against the desk. “And what about the corruption in the NCR? We’ve discussed it plenty of times.

The girl faltered.

He watched her, remaining silent. People usually continued speaking when they thought someone was waiting on an answer. She’d probably do the same, as usual. As successful as the experiments on that girl had been, she talked more than he cared to listen.

“W-well,” she said, “We have time to figure that out. We’ve got months till graduation, and then it’ll take ages to get there. We don’t have to have the whole plan laid out right now. Besides, even if we did, we might get there and find out something that’d completely derail the plan.”

“So you’re suggesting going in without a plan?” He crossed his arms. “If you decided to move against someone like the Brotherhood of Steel without one, you’d end up dead.”

Alma frowned. “That’s not what I’m saying at all, Overseer Hayes.” She hated when he twisted her words. He’d done it to all of them, more times than they could count. The girl sighed before continuing. “We need a plan. But we also need to be able to make changes to that plan, because like I said, we might get there and find out something that completely changes the circumstances.”

“Good,” he said, then took a seat at the desk. “Now, what happened to Uptopland, exactly? What started the Great War?” His eyes scanned the class, curious as to who would answer next.

Another hand rose, this one belonging to a brunette boy with dark eyes.

“Mister Burke?” the Overseer glanced to him.

“Nuclear bombs,” he declared, “China, the United States, and the USSR all launched them.”

“Why?”

The boy remained silent for a moment, as if recalling the information. He sighed and shook his head. “Does it really matter? The world’s been ruined and history isn’t going to change.”

Hayes arched a brow. “History is important, Mister Burke,” he chided, “Humanity may be in a bad position right now, but when we do recover, we’ll make the same mistakes again if we aren’t careful. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” He glanced to the boy again. “Who did I just quote?”

“George Santayana, sir.”

“At least you retained

that

information,” he grumbled. “Now, can anyone else tell me why the bombs were launched?”

The children remained silent.

Hayes sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “We’ve been over this,” he huffed. The man crossed his arms and looked out over the class. “The worldwide energy crisis. Does that ring any bells?” Before any of the children could respond, he continued. “The world was running out of fossil fuels. Years of fighting led to the bombs being launched, remember?” Still, the class remained silent. He was thankful for it this time; if anyone spoke, he might start yelling. Given the nature of some of the experiments performed on children, making them angry wasn’t something he wanted to do just yet. And if he did, it wouldn’t be in a classroom with them. It’d be in a controlled environment. Something capable of holding super mutants.

The Overseer sighed again and stood. “Does anyone remember Uptopland Heroes, at least?”

Most of the class nodded, much to his relief.

“Good. Then read it tonight for homework. Maybe it’ll remind all of you what you’re working towards.” He turned and walked out of the room, letting the door slam behind him. He then made his way back to the elevator, put his password in, and stepped inside. All of the staff had a different passcode, even though very few came down to interact with the children. It was more for emergencies, really. If it were up to Hayes, none of them would interact with the children. The Institute’s synths would handle the experiments. The staff would observe from the top floor. But according to Father at the Institute, children needed human interaction. With adults.

So, Hayes had agreed to run a lesson every week, and let the Institute send some of its scientists and coursers to teach the children basic things like how to shoot a gun, basic first aid, how to farm plants. Practical things that they’d believe would be used after Graduation.

The elevator stopped, dinged, and opened its doors. Hayes let out a sigh and made his way to the staff cafeteria, got a bowl of beans and rice, and made his way to a table. In contrast to the wasteland, the vault still had decent amounts of food. The Institute also sent some every so often, which is where they’d obtained the rice. The collaboration with the group wasn’t something Hayes was happy with, but he knew that they’d be able to help them reach their goal. Nothing they’d tried had been consistently successful on subjects. Pills, steroids, strains of FEV and PV. It had all failed, every time, for the last two hundred and ten years.

Of course, there were one-offs. Successes from each experiment that didn’t fail. But nothing had been what they needed, and nothing had worked on all the subjects, or even the majority. A 74% disposal rate was considered good, and that’s what it had been the year before.

“Overseer Hayes?”

He looked up to find a dark-skinned woman standing at his table, her bowl in hand. She was tall. Five feet, eight inches, if he remembered her file correctly, with dark hair and eyes. “Rochelle,” he greeted, “What can I do for you?” He gestured to the seat across from himself, indicating for her to sit.

The woman nodded a thanks and set her bowl down, then sat in the chair. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I know better than to question you.”

“I know.” He sighed and raked a hand through his grey hair. “You’ve done well since your recruitment. No one, even those of us with high scores on our intelligence screenings, has perfect judgement.”

She smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

Hayes eyed her for a moment. “You remember the PEV experiments, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Rochelle said, eyeing the Overseer, “It’s a hybrid between FEV and the Pan-Immunity Virion. They used it on Alma Lancaster and James Smith, and as of right now, both are considered successes.”

“Right.” He set his spoon next to his bowl and leaned back in his seat. “Lancaster may be having a day, and she might just be wiped out from the treadmill, but a synth overheard her talking about how we kill kids and they don’t have a way to leave.”

Rochelle furrowed her brow. “And you’re worried about..?” Alma wasn’t the first to say things like that. They heard about the children saying the same thing a few times a year.

“She’s one of the PEV experiments, Doctor Morris. She’s got the Pan-Immunity Evolutionary Virus. She’s much stronger than the others, and we don’t know what will happen with her. For all we know, she could turn into a mutant if she gets angry enough.”

“And you want me to make sure she doesn’t.”

“Exactly. James is fairly docile, but she’s always been a little eccentric. Her temper’s never been bad, but FEV has a history of causing fits of rage. Anything could trigger it. We don’t know what will happen.”

“And if she does mutate?” The woman watched him cautiously.

“Well,” he began, setting a gun in front of her. It was a small, 10mm pistol, probably one he’d taken from the shooting range. “The Synths aren’t armed. They’re on a pacifistic setting, according to Father.”

“So?” Christ, she hoped he wasn’t asking her to do what she thought he was. She couldn’t shoot a child.

The Overseer sighed, visibly annoyed with having to explain her orders so clearly. Was she stupid, or was she hoping he wasn’t asking her to do it?

“If Alma Lancaster mutates, you’re in charge of killing her.”

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