November 27, 2287
We set up camp for the night in Concord. In the museum, just like that night now over a month ago. It is strange to return to a place you thought would be your grave, especially when that moment is still this fresh in your memory. What is stranger is how our situation changed since. The minutemen were dead, or at least we thought we were going to, last month. Now, we have found a safe haven for the few refugees we did manage to save. We have made allies, and better yet we served a dish of long overdue justice.
I wrote a mission report on the director’s old terminal as we got here. I don’t know why, I guess it’s just a difficult habit to kick. Preston mocked me when he saw me. Said it was completely idiotic that I was still asking for help, and worse yet, permission from command. I understand what he means, who wouldn’t? But I can’t help it, I’m a soldier, always have been. At least since I left Diamond city to join the minutemen as a boy not much older than Garvey. I am used to have something to fall back upon when things go bad, something I have to explain my actions to, I lost that when the minutemen fell apart. But I can’t give up on it, not yet, not when we’re so close to our goal.
Preston didn’t understand.
He spends most of his time comforting the women we saved. They lost a friend and most of them are scared out their minds. Despite his cynicism towards our organisation. Preston has never wavered from our cause, helping those who have been wronged is just a natural thing for him. He still hasn’t been willing to explain his obsession with revenge towards those raiders, but at this point he doesn’t have to.
Blake asked us to retrieve an item, to see if the raiders had held onto it. And much to my surprise they had. Their leader seemed to collect them; lockets. When we killed her, Ack-Ack she called herself, Preston immediately jumped in and pulled one of the lockets from her neck. Hell, the bitch hadn’t even hit the ground yet. He opened it and hasn’t been the same since.
In my report I asked command for help, to send someone Preston could speak to, help him process what he’s going through. A heart isn’t as easily repaired as it is broken. And I feel I’m powerless to do anything about it.
Captain Eric Asher, signing off.
November 28, 2287
We came across Blake and Sturges. Apparently Sturges had something in mind for the cars that had turned the truck station in a scrap graveyard and Blake had offered to lend him Bessie to help towing the things back to Sanctuary.
Sturges was glad to see us, but nothing will ever beat the expression on Blake’s face when Preston showed him the locket. That’s why we do it. I think Preston may have lost sight of that since Quincy. But he knows, he just had to see it again to remember.
Blake and Preston then went off to the Abernathy farm to bring the news, while we helped Sturges lead Bessie to town with his newly acquired projects. We were welcomed by the Longs and a radiant Mama Murphy as we walked over the bridge, apparently she had seen our success a few days ago. I’m still not happy about her constant chem abuse, bit if her “power” can bring some hope to the Longs I’ll take it. They deserve everything they can get.
Captain Eric Asher, signing off.
November 30, 2287
Preston hasn’t returned from the Abernathys yet, but it’s probably for the best right now. A few days ago I wondered if there was anyone who could help him process. And who better than those who lived through the exact same loss. I say, give the boy time.
In the meantime we’ve rounded up the women we saved from Olivia. We offered them a place in Sanctuary, with the Minutemen. And to those who refused we gave supplies to journey back to whatever settlement they were from or where ever they wanted to go. Only two of them chose to leave. I’m glad to report that the Minutemen now count six full members. Preston and myself included. We’re starting to get somewhere.
Captain Eric Asher, signing off.
December 3, 2287
I’ve sent Sturges to the Abernathy farm to set up the radio tower. I think it’s time the minutemen start giving hope to the Commonwealth again.
I’ve been talking with Thompson a lot over the last few days. He’s been telling me about this Brotherhood of Steel he and the others from the pride used to work for. Apparently their ranks were divided in two groups: the knights and the scribes. The knights were the military arm and the scribes were what came closest to civilians in their organisation. But more importantly they served as the scientific division of their army. I think it’s time the minutemen start having one of those for themselves; how long have we been using these laser muskets? More importantly when have we actually made our own? As far as I can remember they’ve always been made out of scrap from laser guns we collected around the wasteland. Hell, there might even be some left made with institute guns somewhere dating back to the CPG.
I think it’s time we start investing in our own future rather than just that of the Commonwealth. If these tales about the brotherhood are to be believed those motherfuckers have themselves a giant robot. Best we ever got were artillery bases. If that isn’t any indication we should start taking some hints from the other powers in the wasteland I don’t know what is.
The question is, how are we going to go about it, what should we call it, and most crucially: who is going to be in charge of it?
I was initially considering Sturges, but I don’t think he would be the best fit, while he would be a great fit with such a group, I doubt he would want to be in charge.
When i woke up this morning however, a different idea popped into my head… Could I ask Thompson?
Captain Eric Asher, signing off.
December 6, 2287
I’ve been giving the whole: “enroll the Pride into the minutemen to spearhead our new science division” idea another go. And I can’t shake it. Maybe I should discuss this with Preston once he comes back. See what he has to say on the subject.
I guess he’s probably helping Sturges set up the radio.
In the meantime I’ve brought the recruits to the museum in Concord. I’ve decided we’ll be setting up our base of operations here. I’m not sure what we’re gonna do with the massive hole in the roof and the collapsed cellar yet, but I’m confident that we’ll manage to fix the place up soon enough.
For now we’re setting up a large table in the curator’s office, as soon as Sturges is coming back with Preston and Blake we’ll be holding the first council of Concordia or wha tever we decide to call it.
These girls are probably the best first recruits we could have hoped for. They are still a bit shaken from their short time as prisoners, but I believe they’re motivated. Just as motivated as Preston and I. Those are the kind of people we need. Not the hypocritical, backstabbing and corrupt politicians that were leading us before it all went down. It also means that I’ll have to take some extra care of them. If the events of Quincy taught me anything it’s that there’s a thin line between motivation and desperation. I’ll have to remember that when I’ll put Clint to rest. If I’m in the mood to dig a proper grave for that bastard I’ll have to make sure I write that down on his stone.
“Here Lies Clint: The backstabbing bastard who taught the commonwealth how thin the line between motivation and desperation can become. May this horrible son of a bitch never rest in piece.”
Here I was thinking Preston held a grudge against those raiders at Olivia. I’m just as bad.
Captain Eric Asher, signing off.
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