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The truck rumbled along the wasteland, passing abandoned cars and crumbling buildings, a reminder of the world that once was.
The truck rolled through the cracked asphalt of the northern edge of Sanctuary Hills just as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the rust-colored horizon. The buzzing hum of crickets echoed from the tall grass beyond the walls, and lanterns flickered to life across the settlement. Children played near the communal gardens, their laughter mingling with the faint clang of metal as mechanics tinkered with turrets and robots.
The heavily loaded Minutemen truck grumbled to a stop in front of the newest and perhaps most mysterious building in the entire settlement—the Sanctuary Science Department. Tall steel walls reinforced with Institute plating surrounded the facility, while solar arrays hummed quietly on the roof. It looked out of place compared to the patched-together homes and wooden shacks nearby, and that was exactly how Sico wanted it.
Sico hopped off the truck bed and adjusted the strap of his pack, nodding toward the Science Department's large double doors. "Alright, let's get everything inside. Mel's gonna need it to start putting the prototypes together."
The soldiers moved without hesitation. Crates and reinforced boxes were unloaded with practiced efficiency. The air smelled of oil, dust, and faintly of antiseptic, the latter a reminder of how far Sanctuary had come from being just another ruin in the wasteland.
Preston gave Sico a quick nod. "I'll make sure everything gets logged and sent to the inventory team. You go check in with Mel. I'll join you once we're done here."
"Thanks," Sico replied, already making his way toward the lab's entrance.
The interior of the Science Department felt cooler than the outside, the hum of functioning climate controls providing a rare comfort in the Commonwealth. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating a maze of workbenches, terminals, prototype devices, and scribbled notes taped to whiteboards. The air was thick with the metallic scent of circuitry and the faint ozone tang of energy weapons in mid-assembly.
In the far corner of the lab, hunched over a terminal cluttered with data streams and diagnostic overlays, sat Mel. His lab coat was smeared with grease, and his wild, curly hair stuck out in every direction, goggles pushed up onto his forehead like a mad genius mid-epiphany. The clatter of typing filled the room, broken occasionally by the soft whirr of a mechanical arm soldering something to a circuit board nearby.
Sico approached, boots echoing faintly on the metal floor. "Hey, Mel."
Mel didn't turn around immediately. "One sec—this damn interface keeps defaulting to encrypted boot settings and—" He paused, sighed, then finally turned his chair around. When he spotted Sico, a grin split across his face. "Oh hey, you're back. So?" His eyes sparkled with anticipation. "How'd it go? Did Diamond City give you the runaround, or did you actually manage to pull off that miracle you promised me?"
Sico dropped his pack onto the nearest table with a soft thud and unzipped it. Inside, nestled among protective foam and cloth, were two pristine bioelectric sensors—rare tech even before the war, now practically priceless. He picked one up and handed it to Mel, who immediately cradled it like a father holding a newborn.
"I managed to snag a couple of these from a scavenger who had no idea what they were sitting on," Sico said. "Bioelectric sensors. The stuff that you need and wll be sensitive enough to detect the unique energy signatures in Gen 3 synths. You think you can make it work?"
Mel's face lit up like a reactor core on full burn. "Oh yeah. With this? Hell yes. This is exactly what we needed to get the scanning system functional. I can start assembling the detection rig tonight. This tech is the key to separating humans from synths without cracking open skulls or relying on blood tests."
Sico leaned against the table, arms crossed. "The goal's subtlety. We can't afford to make a public scene every time someone suspects their neighbor's a synth."
Mel nodded, already examining the internal components with the precision of a surgeon. "You know, if I can rig the biosensors to a wrist-mounted device or even tie it into a Pip-Boy mod, we could run real-time scans in the field. No more guesswork. No more paranoia."
"That's the idea," Sico said. "But for the rest of the other Bioelectric Sensor, we'll have to wait on Hancock's team. He's running his scav crew through some vault ruins near Quincy."
Mel looked up from the sensor, his enthusiasm dimming slightly. "Right. Figures. That vault was sealed tighter than a Brotherhood bunker last I checked."
"It was," Sico confirmed, "but Hancock's people have a knack for getting through locked doors and security bots. I've got faith."
Mel gave a short laugh. "You and that eternal optimism of yours. Fine. I'll start work on what we've got. Give me a few days—I'll have a working prototype of the synth-scanner ready for field testing. As for the rest of the material to build the rest , well fingers crossed Hancock doesn't lose anyone in the process."
"I'll let Preston know to keep a team on standby," Sico said. "If Hancock calls for backup, we move."
Mel placed the bioelectric sensor down gently, almost reverently, and let out a long breath. "Just so we're clear though—this thing's not going to be perfect. At best, we're talking 90 to 95 percent accuracy. It's a huge leap forward, yeah, but we can't just go around branding people synths based on one scan. There's still room for error."
Sico nodded, already expecting that caveat. "Of course. That's why I've asked Preston and Sturges to start building a Detention Center just like I said to you. Nothing too harsh—just a holding space. Clean, secure, monitored. We scan someone, and if they light up suspicious, we move them there until you can run a DNA test."
Mel leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "You're serious about this. You're not just building some science experiment—you're planning a full operational rollout."
"Exactly," Sico replied. "If we're going to keep Sanctuary safe, and maybe help other settlements eventually, we need a system. A process. This isn't about creating paranoia—it's about giving people peace of mind without turning every synth-scare into a witch hunt."
Mel looked at him for a long moment. "You know, most folks would be tempted to use this tech as a weapon. Outright identification, call it proof, drag someone into the street and put a bullet in their head because a little green light said so. But you… you're building a protocol."
Sico gave a half-smile. "I've seen what panic does. It turns neighbors into enemies and settlements into graveyards. We don't need more graves, Mel. We need control. And that starts with making sure no one gets hurt unless we're damn sure they're not who they say they are."
Mel let out a low whistle. "Well, shit. Maybe you should've been a doctor."
Sico chuckled. "Nah, I don't have the patience for textbooks."
A voice called out from down the hallway. Preston, brushing dust from his duster, stepped into the lab with a datapad in hand. "Crates are all logged, and the extra components are being sorted in Lab Bay 2. Also, Sturges said he'll have the Detention Center foundation laid down by tomorrow morning. He's already got the frame schematics sketched out."
"Perfect," Sico said. "Make sure it's got isolated rooms, reinforced doors, and a med-bay adjacent to it. If Mel finds anything during testing, we'll need a sterile zone to confirm results without risk."
Preston nodded. "We're on it. Though… you know this is going to stir up questions. People are already talking about what we brought back."
"Let them talk," Sico said. "We'll be transparent—after we're sure the system works. Until then, this stays between us and the inner circle. The last thing we need is people thinking we're secretly hauling folks off for synth trials."
Mel gestured toward a terminal showing a rough schematic of the prototype scanner. "This right here is the beginning. Once we get the rest of the sensors from Hancock's team, I'll scale it up. Maybe mount them at checkpoints or entrances, or even incorporate it into a modified version of Codsworth or other bots. We automate it, we reduce mistakes."
Sico's eyes narrowed, thoughtful. "If we could install them in Protectrons or eyebots… patrols could scan settlements passively, report anomalies without causing a panic."
Preston raised an eyebrow. "Automated synth-sniffers?"
Sico gave a lopsided grin. "Better than synth-sniffers with itchy trigger fingers."
Mel laughed. "I'll toast to that. Let's just hope this doesn't turn into some kind of Orwellian nightmare."
"We're not building Big Brother," Sico replied. "We're building Big Guardian."
Preston chuckled, but his tone sobered quickly. "And what happens if someone we all trust turns out to be a synth?"
There was a pause. Heavy. Real.
Sico looked between the two men. "Then we handle it carefully. With dignity. Being a synth doesn't automatically make you a threat. But we do have a right to know who's among us. Especially if the Institute's still out there."
Mel stood and rolled his shoulders. "Alright then, Commander. I'll get to work. You'll have your first scanner prototype within three days—four if the circuitry gives me hell."
"Just don't fry the lab this time," Sico teased, heading toward the exit.
"No promises," Mel called after him.
A few days passed in Sanctuary Hills, and though the Commonwealth sun still rose over rust-colored trees and broken concrete.
Life in the settlement carried on as usual on the surface. Farmers tended their crops in the early morning mist, children laughed and chased each other around the old pre-war fountain, and guards made their rounds with rifles slung over their shoulders, their eyes always watching. But beneath that surface, behind steel doors and reinforced glass, something important was coming to life.
And Sico felt it in his bones.
He'd spent the last few days dividing his time between helping Sturges and Preston supervise the construction of the Detention Center and quietly reviewing security protocols with Sarah. Sarah had a way of poking holes in systems others thought airtight, and Sico respected that.
But all of that was suddenly on pause when a message blinked across Sico's Pip-Boy screen early that morning: "Scanner Prototype Operational. – Mel."
He'd just finished reviewing the blueprints for the Detention Center's internal lockdown mechanisms with Sturges when it came through. The big mechanic had grease all over his hands and was adjusting the tension on one of the hydraulic doors that would seal the reinforced cells.
"Mel's done?" Sturges asked when he saw the message light up on Sico's Pip-Boy.
"Looks like it," Sico replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in anticipation. "Three days, just like he said. He's a stubborn bastard when he's got momentum."
"He's also two steps away from a mental breakdown when he forgets to sleep," Sturges muttered, wiping his hands with an oily rag. "Go on. I'll hold the fort here. Just make sure Mel didn't set the lab on fire."
Sico gave him a playful salute and headed out.
The walk through Sanctuary was brisk, the wind carrying the faint scent of pine and rust, and the low murmur of activity drifted from homes and workshops. Sico passed Jun and Marcy Long near the communal kitchen—Jun gave him a quiet nod while Marcy pretended not to see him, too focused on scolding a teenager for sneaking extra jerky.
By the time he reached the steel-and-Institute-plated doors of the Science Department, he could already hear the excited whirring of servos and the faint beep of diagnostic pings through the reinforced walls.
He keyed in the code, and the doors hissed open.
Inside, the lab had transformed.
Where once there were scattered notes and prototype sketches, now there were clean assembly tables lined with equipment, power lines neatly routed overhead, and the prototype itself—standing proudly in the center of the room under a spotlight like a monument to survival.
Mel was crouched beside it, his lab coat half-buttoned and stained with weeks' worth of lab grime. His hair looked like he'd been caught in an electrical storm. His goggles were perched on his head, slightly askew.
The man looked like hell.
But his eyes? Bright. Alert. Victorious.
"Took you long enough," Mel said without looking up.
"You just sent the message ten minutes ago."
Mel snorted. "Still late."
Sico approached the prototype, stopping a few feet away. It looked like a hybrid between a Pip-Boy and a field med scanner—compact, sleek, modular. A small screen flickered to life as Mel stood and wiped his hands.
"There she is," Mel said proudly. "The Mark I Bioelectric Signature Detection Scanner. Field-ready, rechargeable, updatable firmware, and fully compatible with Pip-Boy sync for data backup and scan logs."
Sico whistled low. "You weren't kidding."
"Would I ever?"
Sico gave him a look, and Mel immediately added, "Okay, yes, sometimes, but not this time. I triple-checked everything. I even had Carla's boy, Nate, run a blind scan with it yesterday."
Sico's eyes flicked toward him. "And?"
"He flagged a synth."
Sico stiffened. "Wait—seriously?"
Mel grinned, wiped his hands on his coat. "False positive. Kid scanned one of the town guards—Marcus. The thing pinged, but the DNA came back human. Took me two hours to figure out why."
"And?"
"Marcus has an old military implant in his chest—pre-war. Still active, barely, but enough to spike the scanner. I adjusted the calibration parameters this morning to compensate for that kind of residual tech interference."
Sico let out a breath. "So we're getting smarter."
Mel nodded. "Every scan teaches the algorithm. The more people we clear, the sharper the detection net gets. By the time we've done a hundred scans, I'd wager we'll be running close to 96 percent accuracy in typical field conditions."
"Still not enough to arrest anyone outright," Sico said, repeating the mantra they'd been building everything around.
Mel looked at him, more serious now. "Exactly. But enough to isolate someone for DNA verification. That's where the Detention Center comes in. Quiet, clinical, secure."
Sico walked slowly around the device, taking it in from every angle. There was something poetic about it—this machine, built from desperation and hope, standing like a guardian of truth in a world full of lies.
"What about a field test?" he asked.
Mel perked up. "Thought you'd never ask."
They stepped out of the lab and into the late morning sun. A small crowd had already gathered nearby—word had traveled fast. Piper was there, arms crossed and a skeptical smirk on her face. Preston stood beside her, and behind them a few curious settlers had paused to watch.
"Piper," Sico greeted, giving her a nod. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."
"Couldn't resist the drama," she said. "Mel's been practically bouncing off the walls about this thing."
"I bounce with style," Mel muttered, adjusting the scanner on his arm like a proud parent strapping a backpack to their kid's shoulders. "Alright, folks. We're gonna do a quick demonstration. No one's getting detained today—this is calibration and field function only."
Sico turned to Preston. "You good?"
Preston nodded. "I've got guards on standby in case anyone freaks out."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Mel looked at the small crowd. "Alright, first volunteer?"
To everyone's surprise, Piper stepped forward. "Hell, might as well be me. If this thing says I'm a synth, you've got bigger problems than accuracy."
Mel chuckled and scanned her.
A soft beep. Green light.
"Human," Mel confirmed. "Clean signature."
Piper gave a mock bow. "Thank you, thank you."
A few more people stepped up—guards, scavvers, a cook, even one of the garden kids with his mom's permission. All came back clean. The scanner beeped softly after each pass, cataloging data, refining.
Then it happened.
An old man—Jeffers, one of the wall repair crew—stepped up.
Scan.
Beep. Red light.
Everyone froze.
Mel's brow furrowed. "Hold on… recalibrating."
Sico stepped closer, calm and steady. "Jeffers, you feeling alright?"
The old man looked terrified. "I… I swear I don't even own a toaster."
Mel ran the scan again. The light flickered yellow this time. "It's borderline. Not a full red, but not green either."
Sico held up a hand to calm the murmurs in the crowd. "This doesn't mean anything. It's a flag, not a sentence."
He turned to Jeffers. "You're coming with me. We'll get you looked at, run the DNA test. No one's accusing you of anything, alright?"
Jeffers nodded shakily.
Preston gently guided him toward the med bay. The crowd slowly dispersed, uneasy but compliant.
Mel sighed. "Not perfect."
"No," Sico said quietly, watching the retreating figure. "But it's a start."
That night, Sico stood alone, looking out over the Commonwealth.
Behind him, the scanner prototype sat in the lab, powered down for the night, but humming with potential.
The DNA test on Jeffers would come back in the morning.
Until then, Sico waited.
He knew this was just the beginning. A device wouldn't solve everything. There would still be fear, still be lies, still be mistakes. But he knew the device will help them on long term.
________________________________________________
• 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:-