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“Heads up,” said Lana, and tossed a box in X6-88’s direction.
For all that X6 looked deep in thought and for all that he didn’t seem to react to the initial warning, he caught the box one-handed without looking. Of course he did.
“Fancy Lad Snack Cakes,” he said as he set the box on the table. His voice was toneless, but Lana knew it was a question.
“A little bird told me that all Gen 3 synths have a sweet tooth for them,” she explained.
“You mean that you hacked the SRB computer, ma’am” he corrected. Maybe she imagined the faint hint of reproach in his voice.
“Tomato, tom-ah-to,” she said in her best impression of Deacon confronted with a less-than-pleased Desdemona.
Lana liked to think that underneath those sunglasses X6 rolled his eyes the same way Dez did when Deacon pulled that crap with her, but who could say.
So she settled into a chair across from X6 and gave him a big, Deacon-patented I’m-full-of-shit-and-you-know-it-but-you-aren’t-going-to-call-me-on-it grin and said, “What? It’s a gift for my favorite synth in the whole—”
She had to cut herself off there because she saw a muscle twitch in X6’s jaw. The reaction was quick, lasting less than half a second before X6 regained control, but she hadn’t become a lawyer without learning to read microexpressions. It was enough to know that she had said something wrong. She dropped the grin and backtracked, hard.
“Look, I just wanted to let you know that you haven’t gotten any of the prime assignments since I royally screwed the pooch back on the Libertalia. I know a box of junk food doesn’t exactly make up for it, but I thought it might be a decent olive branch. Something to say, ‘I’m sorry you have to babysit me.’”
X6 sat perfectly still for a moment in that eerie way that Coursers have before snatching the box up suddenly and examining it carefully.
“Where did you get it?” he asked.
“I found it when we were in Concord yesterday. I’m not a fan because I remember the days when these things were less—crunchy, but, like I said, I know that Gen 3s like them, so I thought of you.”
Something resembling a smile twitched at X6’s lips, but, as before, his features settled into something more neutral almost immediately.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and it was Lana’s turn to flinch slightly.
“X6,” she began, “if you feel like you have to use an honorific, I understand, but I would prefer almost anything other than ‘ma’am.’ It would be a lot less dysphoric for me.”
“I was not made aware of this,” X6 responded. He was frowning slightly, and please, God, don’t let it be the ‘this person is crazy’ type of frown.
“I never got around to changing the markers on my birth certificate,” Lana confessed, “so it makes sense that the Institute wouldn’t know, but I’m agender.”
“I will adjust my language accordingly. Is ‘sir’ preferable?”
“If you have to use something.” Lana sighed a little, even though she knew it was unfair to expect X6 to abandon the formality that the Institute expected of him. It made her uncomfortable for anyone to treat her like she was somehow more worthy of respect just because she was born differently, but she knew very well that any breach of protocol could put X6 at risk. “For the record, I do still use ‘she’ pronouns,” she added because that was probably X6’s next question.
“I understand, sir,” said X6. “May I ask a question?”
“Please do,” said Lana.
“Is Father aware of this?”
The pit of snakes in her stomach that woke up every time Lana thought about coming out to the man who was her son began to stretch and wriggle, but she pulled a trick out of X6’s book and kept her face blank.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to tell him yet,” she said, casual as one of her settlers discussing a razorgrain harvest.
She wasn’t certain X6 believed her tone, but he didn’t press further, just gave a crisp nod and said, “I will endeavor not to reveal it until you have had that opportunity then, sir.”
“Thanks, X6,” she said.
“Was there something else you desired, sir?”
“Not right now,” she said.
“Very well, then. Dr. Ayo expects me in a few minutes for a mission briefing. Please excuse me, sir,” said X6.
Lana nodded, and X6 stood with the mechanical grace that was always conspicuous with Coursers, snatching up the box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes as he went. He started toward Ayo’s office.
“For the record, sir,” he said without stopping or turning his head, “I do not consider this assignment ‘babysitting.’ I appreciate observing your marksmanship in the field.”
“Thanks. I learned from the best,” said Lana as X6 disappeared behind Ayo’s door.
And that was true. She had worked hard to earn her skills, but she couldn’t have survived her year in the Commonwealth without the guidance of her friends and loved ones.
And she made it. Now she was here in the Institute, trying to convince a Courser that he was more human than he thought, and feeling increasing pressure to make that Railroad dead drop. The deadline was in three days, and she wasn’t quite sure how she could slip X6’s watchful eye long enough to make it. Almost three weeks she’d been underground, and neither the Railroad nor the Brotherhood even knew that she had made it to the Institute in one piece.
And then there was Shaun. There was no way in hell she was letting Maxson and his cult find out that her son was the Director of the Institute. Dez needed to know, though much as the thought pained her. Preston, too, and that one hurt a little less. Preston had let her help him through his hard times, and she had no doubt he’d listen without judgment to hers. Anyway, as her second-in-command it was the sort of thing he should know. And she could probably tell him in person without arousing any special suspicion. She hadn’t hidden her status with the Minutemen the way she’d hidden her affiliations with the Railroad and the Brotherhood.
That was the way to do it. Relay into the Castle, catch the eye of the tourist Deacon had placed there, and somehow pass the holotape to her before reuniting with Preston. Not the procedure she was supposed to follow, but it was the best she could do, given her Courser shadow. Hopefully Dez would forgive her.
And if she couldn’t pass the tape on to the tourist, maybe she could just leave it with Preston. Deacon would be along as soon as he heard she had been seen at the Castle, which definitely wouldn’t be long since he was...Deacon. She could make it work.
Lana rose from her spot at the table, cheered at the thought that she had a plan and relieved that X6-88 hadn’t seemed to have had a negative reaction to her coming out. She rode the wave of optimism all the way out of the SRB and into the common area. Things were going to be okay.