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When Prime stood again—not for Maxson's vision of Brotherhood purity, or Shaun's cold philosophy, but for the people scraping their lives back together from the ruins. For farmers and scavengers and children growing up in the shadows of broken towers. For hope.
The next day at Sanctuary Hills on the training field, late in the morning as clear skies, smell of dust and metal in the air
The rhythmic thud of boots on packed earth echoed across the wide expanse of the training field just north of Sanctuary. The field itself was a broad clearing, hemmed in by the remnants of pre-war houses and newly built barracks, the ground flattened and cleared of debris months ago. Now it was alive with motion—rows upon rows of fresh recruits, their movements stiff but determined, trying to keep pace as drill instructors barked commands.
Sico stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, a quiet but formidable presence beneath the shade of a rusted watchtower that had been reinforced with Minutemen steel and reclaimed wood. His eyes tracked the formations—some recruits doing push-ups in the dirt, others running laps, and a larger cluster lined up with laser muskets in hand, getting their first taste of weapon drills. Most were young. Some were older. All of them wore mismatched armor pieces, scavenged and issued, not yet the uniform gleam of a proper army—but it was coming.
Beside him stood Preston Garvey, his coat flecked with dust, a clipboard in his hand, and a satisfied, if tired, smile on his face.
"They're coming along fast," Preston said, following Sico's gaze across the field where Sarah was leading a squad through close-quarters formations while MacCready shouted pacing commands from a wooden platform. "Even the ones who never held a weapon before—they're learning. They believe in what we're doing."
Sico said nothing for a moment, letting the sounds of training wash over him. The chants. The footfalls. The clang of training swords in mock combat. It was a symphony of effort.
Preston cleared his throat, then tapped the clipboard lightly.
"Just like you asked… we've recruited 1,500 new people," he said, eyes flicking down to the numbers. "We ran the background checks, gave 'em the full screenings, put 'em through orientation. Most came from the settlements—the ones we helped defend. Others came from further out, word of mouth traveling faster than we thought. Right now, the total headcount for the Minutemen Army stands at 3,821 soldiers."
Sico turned toward him slowly, nodding with a quiet grunt of acknowledgment. Preston's voice remained level, but there was pride there—earned pride. And fatigue.
"But there's more," Preston went on. "We're still getting an influx of people—travelers, farmers, even a few ex-Raiders saying they're done with that life. They want to join. We've got over 600 requests sitting in Sanctuary intake alone, not counting the ones at Outpost Zimonja or Starlight."
He looked over at Sico, lifting his eyebrows. "We've held off on processing them. Figured we'd wait for your go-ahead."
Sico's gaze turned back to the field. One young woman tripped during a sprint formation, eating a faceful of dirt, but scrambled back up immediately and kept running. A young man offered a hand—was scolded for breaking formation. He didn't argue. He just picked up his pace.
"Add another thousand to the recruitment quota," Sico said finally, his voice calm but absolute. "Tell Sturges to have the factories ramp up gear production. We'll need a full thousand sets—combat armor, assault rifle or laser rifles, everything. No half-measures. We kit them out fully or not at all."
Preston's hand went to his clipboard at once, jotting the orders down. "Understood."
"And the food," Sico added. "We're already stretching what we've got. I want Jenny to expand the hydroponic farms immediately. Double the greenhouse output. And get the cattle operation scaled. If we're going to feed this army, we need a plan that works six months from now, not just tomorrow."
"I'll get on it," Preston said. "I'll send word to Graygarden too—they've got the infrastructure to help with crop overflow."
"Good," Sico murmured.
There was a brief silence between them, filled only by the cadence calls echoing over the dirt. Sico's eyes narrowed as he watched Sarah grab a sluggish recruit by the collar, her words inaudible from the distance but unmistakably sharp. The young man stiffened, nodded, and rejoined the group with renewed purpose.
"They're learning fast," Preston said, as if sensing Sico's thoughts.
"They don't have a choice," Sico replied. "None of us do."
Preston nodded solemnly. "Still… they chose to be here."
Sico let that sit for a moment.
The wind picked up, stirring dust across the field and ruffling the Minutemen flag that now flew atop the newly erected pole at the heart of the training yard. Blue with a stylized white laser musket and starburst—a symbol reborn, now carried on the backs of a force that was no longer just a militia.
This was an army.
And it was growing.
A few hours later, Sico walked the perimeter of the settlement alongside Preston and a group of engineers. They passed rows of new barracks still under construction, fresh solar panels being installed to power lighting for the night drills, and the open-air mess hall, where the cooks were experimenting with new brahmin cuts and tatos to keep meals nutritious and varied.
Everywhere he looked, there was movement.
Welders crouched over rebar frames. Scribes carried blueprints back and forth. Guards atop the walls rotated their patrols with mechanical discipline, laser rifles at the ready. It was Sanctuary, yes—but it was evolving into something more.
At the cattle pens, Sico stopped and examined the expansion plans Jenny had pinned to a nearby corkboard. The new paddocks would stretch westward, doubling the existing capacity. Synth-made irrigation units hummed nearby, spraying calculated amounts of water into neatly sectioned plots of razorgrain and corn.
Jenny approached a few minutes later, sleeves rolled up, hands dirt-stained.
"You're serious about expanding the quota?" she asked, brushing dust off her jeans.
"Another thousand recruits incoming," Sico confirmed. "We'll need the food to match."
Jenny gave a long sigh, but nodded. "Alright. I'll shift the crew over. We'll get the second greenhouse up by week's end, and I'll pull three more brahmin from Graygarden to start the new herd. But I'm gonna need more hands—"
"Pull them from admin," Sico said. "Get any non-essential personnel reassigned to food and water operations until the expansion stabilizes. I'll authorize hazard pay from the treasury."
Jenny grinned despite herself. "You got it, boss."
As she turned to shout at a few nearby workers, Sico moved on, weaving through the bustle of soldiers and civilians alike, all of them part of something that had long since outgrown the small, scrappy militia that once manned the Castle's walls.
The Minutemen were becoming a nation.
By dusk, Sico stood again at the overlook that gave him a full view of the Sanctuary valley. The sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, washing the world in amber and gold. Below, torches and electric lamps blinked on in succession. Floodlights bathed the training field. The mess hall echoed with laughter. A squad returned from patrol, tired but intact. Somewhere, someone had started playing a harmonica.
It was the sound of a society reclaiming itself.
Footsteps crunched behind him. It was Sarah.
She came up beside him, her sleeves soaked in sweat and a towel slung over one shoulder.
"Three fell out by the end of the day," she said. "Not bad, considering how green they are. But I've already flagged twenty who might not be cut out for frontline."
Sico nodded. "We'll find them other roles. Engineers. Scribes. Medics."
She glanced down at the settlement. "You really think we'll need all this?"
"I think we already do," he replied.
There was a long silence between them.
Then Sarah exhaled and leaned on the railing beside him. "You know, when I first joined this whole thing, I thought we were just buying time. Holding on until someone stronger came along."
"And now?" Sico asked.
"Now," she said, eyes scanning the horizon, "I think we're becoming the ones who come along."
He looked at her, then out at the valley again. The stars were starting to appear.
"So do I."
The last of the sunlight had faded into soft purples and deepening blue when Sturges found Sico on the overlook, the glow of the encampment flickering like a constellation of its own below them. The air was cooler now, the heat of the day finally giving way, though it still carried that thick blend of dust, ozone from the laser drills, and the faint tang of brahmin feed.
Sturges had a heavy, confident gait—his boots clunking with the weight of someone who had spent the day knee-deep in machinery and grease. His jumpsuit was stained at the knees and chest, a faded Vault-Tec patch still visible on one shoulder, and his hair was wind-swept and sticking out from under a dirty baseball cap with the brim curled up.
"There you are," he said, coming to stand beside Sico and Sarah at the railing. "Been lookin' for you."
Sico didn't turn right away. He finished scanning the field below, then glanced at Sturges.
"Factories?" he asked simply.
Sturges smiled. It was a tired, satisfied sort of grin—like someone who'd been working a puzzle for days and had finally cracked it.
"Already got 'em ramped," he said. "Just like you ordered. We've switched the full assembly line over—combat armor, reinforced plating, combat boots, standard-issue rucks, helmets, even the newer-gen laser rifles from the Wattz cells you and Danse salvaged."
Sarah raised a brow, impressed. "That fast?"
"Had half the prep work already done from the last wave," Sturges explained, tugging a rag from his belt and wiping off his hands. "Was just waitin' for the go-ahead. You tell me we've got another thousand boots on the way, well, I pulled every technician I had and kicked the machine lines into double shift. We'll meet quota in three weeks—maybe sooner if the power grid holds."
Sico gave a short nod of approval. "Good."
"There's more," Sturges said, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly a little hesitant.
Sico turned to face him fully now, eyes narrowed slightly. "Go on."
Sturges looked between them, then let out a breath. "I put a hold on the Humvee and truck production lines. We were gonna roll out the next batch for recon and logistics, but… I'm divertin' that steel to build more Sentinel tanks instead."
Sarah blinked. "The Sentinels?"
Sturges gave her a look like she'd just asked if brahmin had two heads. "Dead serious. I've already got ten chassis prepped. That number's gonna climb fast now that we're not spread thin between different vehicle lines."
He looked back at Sico. "Figured we needed a bigger hammer. Something to roll out when the Brotherhood or Institute comes knocking again."
Sico's jaw tensed slightly as he considered it. The Sentinels were among their most proudest projects. Sanctuary had already produced ten before, and they were treated like rolling fortresses—deployed only when the stakes were highest.
"We'll need fuel and power cells," Sico said, ever practical.
"Already workin' on it," Sturges replied. "We've been refining reactor-grade fuel at the Red Rocket station just outside the city. Got a fusion cell plant running day and night. Scav teams from Graygarden and Finch Farm have been hauling in the rare metals we need. It's a damn miracle, but the supply lines are holdin'."
Sico nodded again, slower this time. He folded his arms, the full weight of the decision setting in. The move meant prioritizing armor and firepower over mobility and supply chain. It meant preparing not for skirmishes—but for war.
"You did the right thing," he said at last, voice low and steady.
Sturges visibly relaxed, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Glad to hear it."
Sarah leaned back against the rail, towel still hanging loosely from her neck. "What's the long-term plan for them? You thinking defensive garrisons or a mobile armored battalion?"
Sico's gaze was distant again, as if he could already see the war map unrolling in his mind's eye.
"Both," he said. "Four will stay at Sanctuary. Two we'll station at the Castle. Two we'll station at Minutemen Plaza. Two we'll station at Greenetech. When we has finish build all of it, it'll serve as a forward deterrent at each place—move with our mobile units. Keep our enemies guessing."
Sturges gave a low whistle. "That's gonna take coordination."
"I'll handle it," Sico said simply.
Sarah gave a soft chuckle and shook her head. "You always do."
The three of them stood in silence for a few moments longer, looking out over the flickering lights of Sanctuary. The occasional shout, clatter of tools, or burst of laughter drifted up from the courtyard. Somewhere nearby, a set of speakers clicked on with a soft hum and began playing a gentle acoustic tune—something old, pre-war, its melody weathered by time but still sweet.
Then Sico spoke again, voice quieter, more introspective.
"Every decision we make now shapes what comes next. People are watching. Settlements. Raiders. The Brotherhood. The Institute. They're all watching to see if we'll collapse under our own weight."
Sarah straightened slightly, glancing sideways at him.
"But we won't," Sico went on. "Because we plan ahead. Because we build what others are too afraid to. Because we care about more than just surviving the day."
Sturges nodded, slowly.
"We're not just rebuildin' walls," he said. "We're rebuildin' belief."
A gust of wind swept up from the fields, fluttering the Minutemen flag again. The fabric snapped and danced above them, catching the stars' first light.
"Get some rest, both of you," Sico said, pushing away from the rail. "Tomorrow we begin planning phase two—logistics for the Western settlements, supply routes to the coast, and we need to start mapping artillery positions."
Sturges raised his eyebrows. "Artillery?"
"We're a standing army now," Sico said, eyes hard. "Time we had firepower to match."
Sarah gave a short nod, the towel now slung over her shoulder again. "I'll coordinate with Ronnie Shaw in the morning."
"And I'll have my boys reinforce the mountings on those old howitzers," Sturges added.
They parted ways at the overlook, each peeling off into the evening's glow—Sturges toward the foundries and Sarah toward the barracks where her officers awaited. Sico lingered for a moment longer before heading back down into the heart of the settlement, his boots kicking up dust as he walked.
Every step he took echoed with purpose.
Every corner he turned revealed new signs of growth—young Minutemen chatting as they leaned against ammo crates, engineers welding vehicle plates under floodlights, guards checking supply manifests under makeshift lanterns.
By the time he reached his quarters near the Command Hall, the stars were out in full. He paused on his porch, hand resting on the railing, and looked out again at the training field now dark and quiet, the recruits having turned in for the night.
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• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-