Author's Note

Hi guys, I apologize for the long delay between chapters. Life is chaotic, and I've recently started a new job which is leaving me less time than I'd like to write. I have the next few chapters outlined, so hopefully things speed up from here. I also wanted to take time out to thank you guys for leaving reviews, its motivating to me as a writer, not to mention extremely constructive. So without further ado, here is Chapter Two (sorry :D).

Aqua Pura

The float bobbled gently on the current, a lonely piece of cork lost amidst a sea of ripples. Albert sat motionless on the river bank, watching for any disturbances in the water. The sun reflected off it as if it were liquid glass, picking out the technicolor of pebbles lying dormant on the riverbed. The fish was out there. He moved the rod ever so slightly, manipulating the piece of Cram at the end of his line.

"Albert..." A breeze whispered through the reeds. He swiveled his head, looking for the source of the voice. It sent a chill down his spine, making his hairs stand on end. Dark thunderheads loomed to the east. The dreamscape seemed to lose some of its luster, its bright colors dulled.

"Albert..."

There was a splash in the river, sending foam roiling in all directions. Something had stirred up the silt, hiding the riverbed beneath an opaque haze.

"Dreaming is foolish... Live in the real world." Albert knew that voice, those words that had haunted him from childhood. He spun around, expecting to see his father, only to see the gnarled face of the Overseer grinning back at him.

The buzzing pulled him from sleep. He opened his bleary eyes to the dim interior of Theresa's quarters. His PIP-Boy, discarded by the bedside with his Vault suit, reflected the ungodly hour. 05:47.

"Who… at this time of morning?", Theresa murmured sleepily.

The buzzer sounded again, more prolonged this time. A heavy object hammered on the door.

"Albert Cole, we know you're in there!"

It was a woman's voice, one he didn't immediately recognize. He threw the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrambling to pull on his jumpsuit. There was a commotion on the other side of the room as Theresa hastened to do the same. She cursed as she knocked the lamp from her nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Cole, I'll have Stone drag you out if I have to!"

"I'm coming!" Albert cursed under his breath; he still stank of sweat and sex, those pungent odors of the night.

"What's going on?", Theresa hissed.

"I don't know!"

There was a clamor as someone tripped the door panel from the outside. The steel panels wheezed as they pulled away in stuttering, hydraulic fits. Beyond the threshold, rigid as a statue, stood Chief Johansen. The head of Vault-Sec was a formidable woman, possessed of high cheekbones and pale blue eyes. Her athletic form rippled beneath her skintight jumpsuit, reinforced with Kevlar plates over the vital organs. The giant, Stone, stood at her shoulder, his enormous bulk half-draped in shadow. Albert didn't fail to notice the shotgun held in his grasp.

The Chief stepped into the room, wrinkling her nose distastefully. She gave Theresa an icy look before turning her gaze upon Albert, analyzing their state of undress as if they were flies in the garbage chute.

"The Overseer needs to see you," she said. "Immediately."

"At this time of morning? More likely you're here to throw me in Solitary."

"Oh, that can be arranged. Will you come quietly, or must I force you?"

"What does he want?"

"That is between you and him."

Theresa shot him a glance, the concern evident on her face. The whole situation stank of a power-play on the Overseer's part, and the cards were all in his favor. Albert placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If anything happens, you know what to do."

Words seemed to catch in her throat. She inclined her head slightly, but her silence spoke volumes.

"Well then. Time to face the music," Albert said, braver than he felt.

The Chief nodded curtly, before leading the way out. The doorway yawned before him. Time seemed to slow down as he crossed the threshold, his mind reeling as he entered the near-morning gloom. Stone took up position behind them, his face inscrutable. The commotion had drawn attention. Vault dwellers lined the corridor, rudely awoken from their sleep cycles. Albert felt naked beneath their collective gaze, boring into him, judging him. His thoughts flicked to Theresa, if their dalliances were not already common knowledge, they soon would be. There were no secrets in the Vault. Albert made his walk of shame in sullen silence.

The Central Control Core was a foreboding place. Wires and pipes twisted and convoluted beneath every surface, the mechanical arteries of the Vault laid bare for all to see. Albert kept his eyes on the familiar blue lines on the floor, shining like cobalt under the emergency lighting. Dawn settings were still an hour off. He shivered in spite of himself, his muscles groaning from lack of sleep. The Chief and Stone showed no such weakness.

They entered the Overseer's domain. Monitors beamed from the walls, detailing every Vault function in lines of coalescing code. Enormous computer servers lined the walls, the collective knowledge of Vault 13 jealously guarded by its keeper. Albert felt a twisting in his gut. Jacoren sat upon his raised podium, the central hub from which he governed the Vault. He was the tumor in the brain cavity. Numerous wires fed into the terminal at his desk, making him appear like some fabled leviathan from a Grognak comic. A second man stood at the base of the podium, a face Albert recalled though his name eluded him.

"Ah, Mr Cole… welcome. My apologies for waking you at this hour."

Albert bit his tongue. The Overseer studied him with shrewd, unintelligible eyes. His hair and beard were bone white, granting him the appearance of a wizened, fatherly figure, though without the warmth.

"Officer Stone, you may leave us."

Albert looked around in confusion as the giant left without a word, his heavy footfalls echoing through the cavernous chamber. He searched the faces of those around him for any signs of their intentions, finding nothing. An uneasy silence settled over the room.

"You're already acquainted with Chief Johansen. Allow me to introduce James W. Kincaid, Vault analytics.

Albert sized up the newcomer. Kincaid cut a slender figure, with smooth, hollow cheeks and a pompadour haircut. He had a haughtiness to his bearing, seemingly stemming from the tweed jacket worn above his jumpsuit. The younger man glared at him insolently, waspish beneath the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses.

"What's this about, Jacoren? You didn't drag me here for a social call."

"And here I thought lawyers were the height of civility." The Overseer raised a bushy eyebrow. "Mr Cole, I called you here because Vault 13 has a problem. A problem that threatens our very existence."

"I can assure you, Theresa and I-"

"This has nothing to do with your affairs", Kincaid interjected. "Nor your deluded followers."

Albert scowled. "Then why am I here?"

Jacoren leaned forward. "84 years ago, the Great War drove our families underground. Vault 13 has sustained us, shielding us from the fallout of the world above. It has provided for us, and we in turn have given everything to keep it operational. However... after decades of constant running, our water purifier has given up the ghost. The controller chip is shot. Due to a logistical error, we were never stocked with another one. With our current reserve, we have a few months left of clean, drinking water. After that…"

The water supply. Albert's heart sank as he remembered Nick's words from the day before. "Surely there's some kind of workaround?"

"Unfortunately not. The system is dependent on the VAULT-TEC computer. We simply don't have the resources to build a new purifier from scratch."

"So where do I come into this?"

"Long story short, I'm sending a team to find a replacement. I want you to lead it."

"Me?"

"Him?", Kincaid exclaimed.

The Chief took a few steps forward. "Overseer, I do not think-"

Jacoren raised a hand. "I have put a great deal of thought into this. My mind is made up."

Albert crossed his arms. "Why would you of all people want that?"

"You are a charismatic individual, gifted with people. We have reason to believe that there may be communities on the surface. If so, your particular talents might prove most useful. You have expressed interest in going above ground before, have you not?" Jacoren's voice became deathly soft. "On the other hand, your tendency to become embroiled in... scandal could make your life very uncomfortable."

Albert clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists. He wanted to lose control, to give the sly bastard a piece of his mind. Instead he said, "And once we're on the surface, then what?"

"We recently found the location of another Vault in our archives – Vault 15. It lies several days to the east on foot. We believe that would be the best place to start."

"All Vaults use the same water purification system. Vault 15 is the best chance of finding a replacement," Kincaid said smugly.

"And if they're in a similar position to us?"

The corners of the Overseer's mouth twitched. "Mr Kincaid, tell us what you discovered."

The young man adjusted his glasses. "The logistical error. Vault 13 was equipped with three Garden of Eden Creation kits, as opposed to the standard compliment of two. It stands to reason that our 'sister' Vault received the parts intended for us."

The Garden of Eden Creation kit, or G.E.C.K was the pinnacle of pre-war ingenuity. A device the size of a briefcase, it contained all the ingredients to transform a piece of wasteland into a verdant oasis. It was all Albert had ever dreamed of.

"Surely the G.E.C.K is a better option. We should open the Vault, establish ourselves on the surface. Radiation levels-"

"Out of the question! We don't know what awaits us up there. Would you risk the entire Vault? The children? Even the bacteria could kill us."

Albert grimaced. "We don't know if this other Vault will help us, even if they could."

"Well that's where you come in. If we must barter, you must convince them. Pack light, you leave tomorrow."

"But… I have responsibilities here. Artyom Dubrovhsky's trial-"

"Will be adjourned until you return. If all goes well, you'll be back in 2 weeks with the water chip in hand."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Artyom isn't going anywhere. He is safe in Solitary, Security will see that he is well treated."

Game, set and match. Albert felt a pit growing in his stomach. Jacoren had him exactly where he wanted him; gone, gallivanting into the unknown on some fool's quest. To leave was to risk everything, to refuse was out of the question. He needed a wildcard, something to regain some small modicum of control. Albert glanced as his two would-be companions, both the Overseer's picks. A plan began to form in his mind.

"I have one request."

Jacoren's brow furrowed. "...Name it."

"It is likely that we will need someone with mechanical expertise on this mission." He gestured to each of the group in turn. "I've learned the Chief is pretty handy with locked doors, but with respect none of us here know how to operate advanced electronics."

"Go on."

"I propose we bring a technician."

"Absolutely not!", Nick exclaimed. 07:31. The old Storage room was the only place they had been able to get any privacy. Disused furniture had been stacked unceremoniously against the walls, clearing room for a myriad of dissolving boxes. Albert thought the air smelt distinctly of Abraxo powder.

"Come on, you always wanted to see the surface."

"Damn it, Albert. I can't just leave, I have a pregnant wife to think about."

"I know, and I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important. This comes down from the Overseer. I can fill you in, but I need you to agree."

Nick gave him a disbelieving look. "What, you guys best buddies now?"

"Hardly," Albert said, a touch of ice creeping into his tone. "What if I told you that Vault 13 was on borrowed time, that everyone here has a matter of months to live."

Nick folded his arms, eyeing him warily. "Alright, I'm listening."

"What I'm about to tell you can't leave this room. Not yet." Albert lowered his voice as a pair of blue jumpsuits passed outside. He told him everything that had transpired, from his rude awakening by the Chief to his meeting with Jacoren down in the Core.

Nick recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "You're kidding..."

"Believe me, I wish I was."

His friend turned to face the wall, holding his head in his hands.

"Nick, the system is fried. According to Jacoren, we have a couple of months left if we ration the storage tanks."

"So, what's the plan? We go topside, die of dehydration up there instead? This is madness, Albert."

"They've located another Vault to the east, one with a good chance of having the part we need. I figured it would help to have someone with your expertise along… and to have someone I can trust."

"Do you know what you're asking of me?"

"I do, but I need you. I don't trust the Chief or that bastard Kincaid. Once we leave the Vault, anything could happen."

"Damn it, Albert. How am I supposed to tell Sam?"

"You can tell her that her husband will return a Vault hero."

Nick scoffed, pacing the width of the room in erratic circles. Albert knew he'd asked the impossible of him. It wasn't fair, none of it was.

"Two weeks?", he said finally.

"There and back again."

Nick blew out his cheeks, clearly caught in a whirlwind of emotions. In that moment he looked drained, like a man who knew that his choice was an illusion, that he was damned whatever he did. He reached beneath his jumpsuit and pulled out a golden locket, some pre-war heirloom of his family.

"If we do this, we fucking succeed." He flicked the locket open, revealing a photograph of his wife cradling her baby bump. "For them."

Level One, as always was deserted. Albert followed the blood red lines past the infirmary, his footsteps echoing eerily through the network of corridors. The Solitary cells were located up here, isolated from the general populace of the Vault. Though he'd teetered on the brink many times, he'd never personally had the misfortune to spend time in one. Those few who had often needed counselling after.

He turned the corner and paused suddenly. There, at the end of a spartan passageway sat the Vault door, an enormous steel cog several inches thick. It lay in darkness, but for the large number 13 picked out with spotlights. Beyond that lies my destiny, he thought. He didn't know why but the prospect filled him with dread.

Voices carried through the corridor, disturbing him from his reverie. He was up here on business after all. He took another turning to behold two Security guards talking in low voices. Artyom's guards. They tensed as he approached, gripping their holstered pistols in warning. A grey-haired man stepped forward.

"What's your business here?"

"I'm here to see Artyom."

The lead officer regarded him with suspicion. After a moment, he gestured to his companion. "Alright, but no funny business. We'll be watching your every move."

"You do that."

The men stepped aside to allow Albert through. He pressed the door release, feeling their eyes boring into the back of his head as the cell beckoned. He stepped into the room.

"Shit!"

Artyom hung from the ceiling, suspended from a steel beam by a makeshift wire rope. Albert felt his blood run cold as he beheld the man's swollen, purple face. The man's eyes bulged accusingly, though death had long robbed them of their clarity. A plate of uneaten food lay beneath his feet.

The officers burst into the room, shouting and swearing. Few Vault Dwellers had ever seen a body before. The sight was one Albert would never forget.