In honor of the recent Obsidian announcement, I figured that I'd make this little one-shot. Think of it like a AU, if you will. Perhaps. Enjoy! ;)


Progress Report, October 23rd, 2381

For The Eyes of Mr. House Only

The project moves quickly along schedule, sir.

The integration of Vault-Tec's cryotech is proceeding smoothly on the Frontier. It isn't a perfect one-to-one; R&D doesn't recommend freezing someone for more than ten years. Hence, I recommend we start out with something simple to colonize before expanding outwards.

Still, given enough time, we should be able to boost that max freeze time back to what it was in Vault 111. If those sociopathic eggheads could keep Nate alive in one of those chambers for two centuries plus without any apparent maintenance, why can't we do the same for someone else?

Now, I'd rather be damned sure about it before sending our first ship into… what was it Bright and his followers called it... the Great Beyond? Yes, the Great Beyond.

My point is, simply put, that we can't just get some random yahoos and pack them into a ship for a one-way trip towards whatever habitable planet it can get to. No, there's a damn good reason pre-War America was very choosy about who they sent up in rockets.

From what little records I've managed to dig up on the topic, 'astronauts' needed to be in impeccable physical and mental condition to even be considered for a launch. While Mariposa-strain super mutants might fit the bill, they're a reproductive dead end still.

Hence, that's why I have to make my next request, boss:

I volunteer to be that first test subject.

Before you read me the goddamn riot act, let me explain.

Things here seem to be well in hand, and rebuilding society is well on track.

Even so, it's a more personal reason that takes precedence. Truth be told, it's because there's too many damn memories here on Earth.

Can't go five minutes without having a flashback to Hoover Dam, or having a drink with the old team, or having to preside over Lily's funeral.

Or Boone's.

Or Cass's.

Or Veronica's.

Point is, everyone that knew me back then is dead. Meanwhile, I'm still alive and kicking thanks to that little idiotic trip to Big Mountain all those years ago.

Truth be told, I just want to vanish into the goddamn sunset like my great-grandpa did.

It's not the first time I've done so; the NCR declared me dead after I accidentally blew up the Divide, after all. Only thing that reversed that was two bullets in the noggin.

Besides, while there might not be a need for the last of the Vault Dweller's line here anymore, that might be different out beyond the farthest star. I might be a hundred and twenty-five by now, but I figure my old age is better spent kicking ass instead of riding a damn desk.

If that doesn't convince you, I'd settle for piloting the Frontier instead. I've given the bridge controls a look-see, and they look to be quite usable by an interfaced AI. There's no need to put an organic crew in danger, and thereby put the colonials' cryopods at risk as well.

Either outcome is perfectly fine by me, sir. No need to discuss severance or all that nonsense; kinda figured making a fresh start of things would be a better idea anyway. Besides, a cybernetic gunslinger probably will be in high demand out there.

Once I'm out there, I fully plan on wiping my identity. For all intents and purposes, Vladina Bukharinov will die a death long deferred. Courier Six, though, will be getting started on beginning again amongst the stars.

I await your reply.

Signing off,

Courier Six


And there we go, folks! I hope you enjoyed that. Ciao Ciao. :)