Intro

"War. War never changes."

Survival, it ran through his head over and over again, in an endless loop whose length was only exceeded by the length of the road that they were walking. It was called the Long 15, a Prewar Interstate Highway that once ran from the Mexican Border to the Canadian Border. Now, it was the lifeline to an entire section of the known remains of humanity. From Montana down through New Cannan and along to New Vegas, and passed Vegas to the heart of the NCR. Although it is the lifeline of the region, it is also one of the greatest causes of death. Raiders, Legion, Deathclaws, Geckos, Scorpions, alone all formidable, but on the Long 15, it's not entirely uncommon to see all of them in a 10 minute span. Caravan after caravan traveled as long and as far as they could from Shady Sands in the south up north as far as New Cannan, marching past all of those threats all day, everyday, protected by only a few guards.

"Shit! Heads up fellas, Raiders! 2 o clock!"

The Caravaneer jumped from his cart, and pulled a pistol out of his holster as he ran in front of his Brahmin.

"Michael, hit the one on the left, I'll get the one on the right, then whoever finishes first hits the last one."

"Survival." Michael thought to himself as he pulled his rifle scope to his eye, aimed directly at the head of the leftmost Raider. He drew in a deep breath into his lungs, and fired, exhaling rapidly as the bullet tore itself a new home in the Raider's brain. Michael took aim at the other Raider who was still up for grabs, and drew in a breath. Before he could fire, the Raider's brains came exploding out the front of his face, and behind him was a squad of NCR Troops.

"Hey there!" The CO of the squad announced, "Mojave Outpost is just at the top of this pass, you should be all clear from here!"

"Kenny, Michael, are you guys alright?" The Caravaneer asked, both guards turned and nodded.

"I think we're fine Randy, let's just get to the Outpost." Kenny said, as Michael started forward. The sun rose higher in the sky as the Caravan creeped on towards the Mojave Outpost. The Caravan didn't move much faster than Kenny and Michael were walking as they rose up the old highway into the Outpost.

"Please have NCR Caravan Clearances ready for inspecting at the gate." read a sign near the top of the pass. Michael could start to see what looked like two NCR Rangers shaking hands begin to rise over the horizon.

"Look at those two Kenny." Michael chortled.

"Are those guys supposed to be intimidating or something?" Kenny asked. Michael shrugged back at him as the caravan approached the gate.

"Guards, feel free to advance on into the barracks, here are your meal tickets." a trooper handed both Michael and Kenny a special blue coin, and pointed them towards the easternmost building. The Trooper looked at Randy, who in return held out his clearances to the soldier. "Hang on, I'll be right back." The trooper said as he made his way into the western building. After a few minutes, the same trooper emerged from the building, along with 2 others.

"Is there a problem?" Randy asked?

"Your company, owes 2 years of taxes and fees, we cannot allow your caravan to pass through until you pay."

"There has to be some sort of mistake. I just came through the Barstow Outpost less than a week ago, and there was no mention of this." Randy exclaimed.

"There's your problem, you haven't paid the territorial tax, you were able to advance through Barstow because it is truly part of the NCR, this is still technically territory."

"Are you fucking kidding me? In order to make the money, I need to get to Vegas, you have to make an exception, send a trooper along with me, I'll pay the tax, I just need to get through now."

"I don't have clearance to do that, and to be honest, no one here does. The current standing rule is No caps, no pass. Also, unless General Moore shows up here, there isn't anyone from Hoover Dam to Shady Sands other than him that can change the tax rules."

"So what can I do?" Randy asked.

"You can liquidate your caravan and sell your assets to the NCR and be free of any debt, so long as you conscript into the Army for a total of 3 months, or you can try and sell your wares here at the Outpost for the allotted time of 2 months to pay the tax debt, after which point you will be forcefully conscripted for 1 year if you fail to do so, either way, your guards are now free agents."

"What?"

"It's all in your contract, apparently you signed the no money down contract, so your terms of breaking the contract are quite severe."

"I'll try to raise the funds myself, I mean, how hard could it be?"

"Ok, today is June 20th, so you have until August 20th to raise your taxes and the late fees, the total of which is 5000 caps." At that, the trooper turned and placed an orange label on Randy's Brahmin, marking it as delinquent.

The doors swung open as Michael and Kenny entered the barracks. They scanned the room and pulled up to the bar, as the bartender came over. "Caps or meal tickets?" Michael and Kenny placed their blue coins on the counter, and the bartender grabbed them and put them in a pile, and grabbed 2 trays with pre-packaged meals on them. When Kenny and Michael opened the meals, a foul smell emanated from them, but it was all their caravan status could provide.

"Old Gecko, at least it's not entirely rotten." Kenny said.

"Might as well be," Michael replied, trying to take a bite, "It's as tough as my Leather Armor."

At that, an NCR Trooper came into the barracks and sat down next to them. "Were you guys with that caravan that just came in?"

"Yea, what's up?" Michael asked.

"It appears that it has some tax delinquency issues, and according to the NCR's contract with that caravan, you guys are no longer employed by that caravan."

"Really? It seemed like Randy was nervous about things the closer we got to here. So is the great and oh so powerful NCR conscripting us now?" Kenny chided.

"Well, we have a higher payscale for soldiers who have previous training, which caravan guard falls under, but it's truly up to you, since the both of you are upstanding NCR citizens."

"While it's tempting," Michael said derisively, "I can't eat this food, and I haven't eaten in 2 weeks, so I'm going to have to decline."

"Me too." Kenny said.

"Can't say I blame you," the Trooper replied, "So you are free to advance from Mojave Outpost in either direction, but if you head West, you won't be able to come back through without being a part of a caravan, so unless you're ready to head back home, I suggest going toward Vegas. We're doing what we can patrolling the 15, but past Goodsprings there are an unusual amount of Deathclaws, so heading east to the 95 is the fastest and safest way to Vegas right now. I can't guarantee the frequency of patrols along 95, but from our reports there aren't any Deathclaws."

"Thank you for your honesty." Michael nodded at the Trooper. "So Kenny, what do you think? According to the maps on my PipBoy, Vegas is only half a days walk along the 15, and almost a full day by the 95, you want to go see what all the fuss is about?"

"Yea, I've heard story after story about The Strip, both prewar and now, so I think it's something we need to see, who knows, we might be able to get jobs and live here in the Mojave, hopefully their food is better outside of here too."

"Alright, we'll head out tomorrow, I'm gonna go find a bed, I'm tired." Michael said as he headed towards the common room.

"Sounds good, I'm going to find someone to share a bed with." Kenny laughed as he spotted a few candidates.