[color=00aeef][b]The Town of Far Harbor - Mount Desert Island, Maine [/b] [/color] Dr. Mara Holdren couldn’t help but hold her nose as she rode in the driver’s seat of the cart into the town of Far Harbor. The locals had not been exaggerating when they’d claimed that whatever was affecting the waters was devastating their catch. She caught sight of discarded heaps of blighted fish outside the town’s walls and everywhere permeated the smell of decay. Up ahead a short ways was the massive bulwark that was The Hull and she could already see movement on its makeshift battlements indicating that the Harborwatch had seen her approaching. Moments later the gates of Far Harbor were being opened for her. The sturdy cart which she rode was pulled not by brahmin, or any pack animal for that matter, but a group of six Gen-2 Synths which held on to a series of yolks in front of the cart to propel it forward. The cart was furthermore laden with the promised supplies: fresh vegetables, fruits, potatoes, and other assorted produce from Acadia’s greenhouse were stacked high in wooden boxes behind her. However underneath her feet in a white metal box stamped proudly with the red vitruvian man was perhaps the most valuable part of the supply: much needed anti-radiation and antitoxin medicines for the town’s doctor. A grizzled looking member of the Harborwatch bellowed as the cart passed through the gate, “They’re here!” He then rang a mounted brass bell three times. A small cluster of people shuffled out from nearby houses and began to crowd around the curious cart pulled by the ‘plastic people’ as the Harborfolk had come to refer to the lower generation Synths. Soon a lone figure cut through the crowd and came up to Mara directly, it was Captain Avery, “Welcome….Dr. Holdren I presume?” “Mara Holdren, yes,” Mara replied as she stepped down from the cart and brushed off her green and white Bioscience lab coat. She retrieved the briefcase from underneath her seat and offered it to The Captain, “For Doctor Wright, with our Director’s compliments.” “Thank you,” Avery nodded as she carefully took hold of the case, “I’ll deliver these to Teddy myself.” “Zadok!” Avery called out to the Harborman who’d let Mara in, “Grab some of your watchmen and get this produce offloaded from the cart.” An affirmative grumble followed from the old Harborman. Mara turned to the Synth Leader of her Gen-2 escorts, “Assist the townspeople with the offloading and distribution. Then come find me when you’re done.” “Yes ma’m,” the Gen-2 droned out. Mara then turned back to Avery, “Captain, if it's all the same to you. I’d like to get started right away. I’ll proceed to the docks.” “By all means Doctor.” --------------------------------------------------------------- The docks were, perhaps expectedly, far worse. Mara was fully dressed head to toe in her environmental suit but even through the air filters she could still pick up on the stench of death and disease. The town was indeed in crisis if the shores around the harbor were all like this. Some unknown radioactive blight had struck its waters and without these vital stocks, the town could very well starve. She knew that her colleagues were dismissive of the claims of Far Harbor, or at least believed them to be exaggerated, but she had all the proof she needed right here. Something was indeed very, very wrong. In her hands, Mara held one of the blighted fish: a specimen of [i]Melanogrammus aeglefinus[/i] or Haddock. It was affected by advanced tissue necrosis along with an array of other obvious physical deformities and mutations. If she didn’t know better, she’d assume that the creature was displaying signs of Radiation Induced Post-Necrosis Syndrome: also known to the wasteland as ‘Ghouldom’: a phenomenon only rarely observed in non-humans species. That observation alone was cause for alarm, as it suggested an entirely as-yet unknown process by which these fish were being affected by the condition. At the very least, this warranted more study, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be leaving Far Harbor for some time. “It's the Children, isn’t it?” A voice from behind her asked. Allen Lee was standing on the top of the stairs leading down from the dock. “No...or at least, I don’t have enough data to make any kind of determination like that.” Mara replied. “Their poisoning the town...using whatever hoodoo they cook up worshipping that god of theirs. Why don’t you and The Institute do something about it?” “Because we rely on hard data, not speculation,” Mara said confidently, “And this could still be a natural phenomenon.” Allen narrowed his eyes, “Hmmph, I thought maybe when you scientists arrived and took out DiMA….things would be different. Thought maybe we’d have someone in our corner finally with the balls to do something about the Children. I’m starting to think I was wrong.” “Your town is safer and more prosperous than it ever has been thanks to us,” Mara countered, “Mr. Lee, you need to be patient and let us do our work. If the Children are responsible, be assured we’ll find out. I will not report back to the Director speculations and fear with no evidence to back them up….I will however report back the seriousness of the situation here and request further resources and relief. That will have to suffice for now. “Whatever you say,” Allen turned around and stormed back towards his shop. It was clear he’d heard enough. Mara turned back to the sea and the rotting fish. Allen was more of a hothead than she’d ever expected when she was warned of his behavior. He was the type of self-righteous idiot who held to his own ideas and wanted it his way or no way at all. What’s more, he was unfortunately also someone that many people in town looked to when things got bad. He was, in other words, a problem. Mara thought how much easier it would probably make things if Allen was simply replaced with a Synth that was less….murderous….when it came to dealing with the Children of Atom. However she checked herself and remembered that The Director had mandated that they weren’t going to utilize Gen-3’s in that manner going forward without serious consideration and dire need. They didn’t need any more ill-will from the surface-dwellers. Diplomacy it was then. She needed to ingratiate herself with the people of Far Harbor.