One More Tomorrow
The Wanderer
Oh well, I'm the type of guy who will never settle down
Where things aren't going well, you know that I'm around
I fix 'em and I solve 'em 'cause to me it's all the same
I help 'em and I save 'em they don't even know my name
They call me the wanderer
Yeah, the wanderer
I roam around, around, around
Oh well, there's Sydney on my left and there's Sarah on my right
And Nova is the girl with that I'll be with tonight
And when she asks me, which one I love the best?
I tear open my shirt I got Amata on my chest
'Cause I'm the wanderer
Yeah, the wanderer
I roam around, around, around
originally by Dion
rewritten by The Crazy Kid from Vault 101
Night was falling, covering the land with inky darkness, broken by the glow of a scattering of electric lights. And near one of these lights, a fire burned slowly, with the carcass of a headless molerat on a spin above it. Rotating the spit was a hand, encased in once gray metal, pitted and discolored, having long since lost its sheen.
"That never gets old. I'll have to give it to Moira, it still works, after all these years." The figure moved slightly, accompanied by the hiss of servos, and leaned towards the carcass. He slowly reached forward and cut a slice of the animal off, "Here you go Dogmeat." The figure tossed the meat away from him, and a dog jumped up, grabbed the morsel and devoured it. He looked at his master, and let out a happy yelp. "I think I'll wait till it is a bit better cooked. I've eaten enough food raw in my life."
The figure leaned back against the rubble behind him and smiled. He looked over his makeshift campsite, shielded from the wind by several broken walls of a house. He was actually in what once was the second floor, though part of the first floor was buried in earth.
He reached over and dragged a large metal case, with straps attached to it, turning a large footlocker into a jerry-rigged backpack. Inside was a random collection of all sorts of things, but what interested the lone figure was several assault rifles. He removed his heavy metal gloves, and pulled out a small tool kit. In short order, he had broken down the rifles, and began using the parts to repair another rifle sitting next to him.
"It will be good to get Sydney working again. Have I ever told you how I got this rifle Dogmeat?" The dog did not seem interested in his master's tales, instead staring out into the darkness. "Well, it doesn't have a happy ending anyway. Nice gun though. Need to find a new silencer though."
Dogmeat began to growl quietly, and paced towards the edge of the floor, where debris formed a ramp up to the campsite. His ears twitched forward, and his master knew he was about to bark.
"Quiet Dogmeat!" he hissed forcefully. "Stay quiet." His armor did not afford him much stealth. The dog reluctantly shrank back, but remained alert, still growling. The wanderer slowly placed the rifle in his hands down, in several pieces at this point. He slide one arm into the locker, and felt around. And then, someone ran up the ramp, and was in the campsite.
A figure covered in a hodgepodge of metal and leather armor, with scrap sewed on without rhyme or reason, besides having the pointy things out. A heavily modified motorcycle helmet protected the head, if by modified you mean having spikes stuck to it.
"You're gonna die you meddling do-gooder!" The raider raised an assault rifle, but before he could fire, something tore into his arm. The sound of a train broke across the campsite. The armor encased camper stood to his feet, a strange rifle in one hand. The stunned raider looked a this arm, and found a large spike had pinned his arm to the crumbling wall behind him.
"You guys never learn." He reach over and non-nonchalantly turned on a radio. The smooth vocals of a forgotten crooner drifted across the wasteland. "The Wanderer...appropriate. Finish him off Dogmeat." The adventurer picked up his helmet, and placed it on his head. It hissed and clicked into place. The raider desperately tried to free himself from the wall, letting loose a barrage of profanity, as Dogmeat leaped on him, and ripped him apart.
"Get him!" someone in the darkness roared. Another raider in make-shift armor raised a rifle, and fired. The round hit the shoulder of the power armor, but only added another dent. The adventurer sighed and raised his gun. Another train whistle echoed, followed by a pained yelp as the spike found a leg. The raider fell to the ground, and then pulled out her pistol, and aimed it at the figure in front of her.
"I used to be quite the lady killer in my day, but that was a long time ago." He fired again, but only a loud creak and a jet of steam escaped the weapon. "Broke again...oh well." He reached for another weapon on his belt, when something crashed into him, and managed to knock him off balance.
Two figures grappled down the debris ramp, and landed in the dirt below. A large man, encased in metal armor and helm raised a hatchet, but before he could bring it down on the visor below, a metal glove clamped on his wrist. For a few seconds, the raider tried to bring the ax down, but the sweat on his face indicated no progress was being made.
"Power armor, very useful." The adventurer reached down and brought up laser pistol. "Also, laser pistols." He placed the pistol on the raiders chin, and squeezed the trigger. The head exploded as the ruby beam lanced through, vaporizing a good portion of it. The adventurer got back to his feet, and looked over at the other raider, who had pulled herself to one knee, and leveled a rifle at him. And then Dogmeat jumped her, and it was all over.
The ground beneath the wanderer exploded in puffs of smoke, and then something ricocheted off his leg armor. Another raider, wielding a large minigun approached, spewing rounds like water from a hose. He couldn't aim worth anything, but eventually you hit something.
"Back to the camp Dogmeat!" called the adventurer. He hurried up the ramp, sending a couple beams back at the attacker. Both went wide, but he wasn't trying to aim really. He walked up and ducked behind a wall. A chunk of brick flew past, and he knew the wall wouldn't last long. He reached down and grabbed another gun, a large one with a large drum, and a scope.
The minigun stopped for a moment, and it was enough. The adventurer leaned out, and lined up a shot. There was a loud crack, and a streak of blue shot across the dozen or so yards between them, and struck the raider in the chest. And then it exploded, leaving a gaping hole in the chest. The Gauss rifle lowered, and the power armor clad figure stepped out.
"Anyone..." His call was interrupted as a jump up from the darkness, and send a large hammer crashing into the power armor's breastplate. It left a much more noticeable dent. "Oh, that is not going to be fun to fix." The raider, pumped up on some drug, kept swing, actually managing to drive the adventurer back, until he was up against a table, where the radio and other miscellaneous items.
The raider raised the sledgehammer high, assuming he was about to crush the head of his opponent, and then a sharp pain shot through him. He looked down and saw a metal blade stabbed through a chick in his well-worn armor.
"You know, the best way to cook meat is on a stick. Once, this was called a Shishkabob, though I don't expect you to know that. You might be familiar with this though." The adventurer squeezed a lever on the handle of the weapon. A liquid squirted down the blade, and then a small bit of flame shot out along the blade. And the raider went up like a torch. Screams could be heard for some distance. The wanderer walked to the edge of the house, and pushed the raider off the Shishkabob, and rolled the corpse down the ramp. "I'll loot the bodies later, but first, I am finishing my dinner." He walked back to the fire, and sat down, then reached up and turned the radio off. "Done before the song finished. Excellent. Come on Dogmeat, you've earned some more food."
The wanderer sat down again, and cut off and tossed a bit of meat to the dog. He took some for himself as well, and continued to work on fixing his specialized rifle. He began humming a catchy song under his breath, while tinkering away. For several minutes it was peaceful and quiet. And then Dogmeat started barking.
"I don't think we ended up the right place Elliott." The wanderer looked up suddenly, and noticed two figures had appeared in front of him. One was a woman with blonde hair, who had just spoken, wearing a rather plain dress over a suit of silver, carrying a rather exotic silver weapon.
"Wait Dogmeat...Sally and Elliott, it has been awhile." The other figure was a man, older now, with a bit of gray in his hair, in white armor, which one might recognize as being pre-war American armor. "You haven't aged much."
"Vault 101? You look horrible. What's it been? Like forty years or so?"
"Thank you Sally. I was a little disappointed myself, but considering all the radiation I've been exposed to, and all the other things I've shot myself up with, I'm now a Ghoul. Really, It's amazing I wasn't killed in the Purifier at all. You don't look like you've aged forty years."
"Well, to be honest, I don't think we have. Whether it has to do with the cyro process, ot excessive use of alien biogel and eating alien food, I believe that our aging process, physically of course, has been reduced to approximately half. It is good to see you again Vault 10. We weren't sure what had happened to you, after your last visit."
"Why does no one remember my name?"
"Because it's such a cube handle. And because Three-Dog never used it. He kicked the bucket though, GNR hasn't been very good since. It is good to see you again. Is this your dog then?" Sally pointed to the animal, who had been hunched in the corner growling since the visitors arrival.
"Yeah,, Dogmeat. Not the same one you know. He's like the tenth one or so, and one of the most well-behaved. Calm down boy, these people are okay." Vault 101 turned back to his visitors. "I gather you weren't actually looking for me?"
"No, it is actually a rather long story," answered Elliott.
"Well, have a seat. Help yourself to some irradiated molerat meat."
"I think we will pass." Elliott did find a piece of rubble and sat down. Sally knelt down and began petting Dogmeat, who began to slowly warm up to the young woman.
"I don't blame you. Who wouldn't rather eat a worm?" answered Vault 101. "So, why are you here?"
"I'm glad you asked." Sally sat down, resting her alien rifle across her legs. "Well, as you know, we had been exploring around, trading what we needed from the Wasteland with alien epoxy and biogel, and exploring the ship. We managed to get back into the cyro labs, so Elliott could start making cyro grenades again. Once in awhile, we ran into some aliens, but we dealt with them..." Sally went on for awhile, speaking faster and faster as she went. Vault 101 listened to most of it. Elliott occasionally tried to interject, but wasn't able to do much. "And then, ten years ago, something really awesome and cool happened, better than Captain Cosmos for sure." Sally paused for more than a couple seconds to take a breath.
"So, is this the important part then?" asked the wanderer.
"Yes, and I'm still not sure exactly what happened," answered Elliott.
"Hey, a lot of interesting things happened before that...but I guess they aren't relevant to the current situation," admitted Sally. She was interrupted by a beeping. "There's been another surge." She looked at her wrist where a device, similar to a pip-boy, but smaller and sleeker. Instead of a normal screen, it projected an image into the air.
"Well, I thought having a Pip-Boy was boss. What is that?" asked Vault 101.
"Some sort of alien Pip-Boy. Can we walk and talk?"
"Can I get some of that epoxy to fix this rifle? I'll be done shortly, then we can go," replied the wanderer.
"You don't have to go with us," said Elliott, handing him the alien epoxy.
"Of course he is. He can't resist a challenge," responded Sally.
"She's right. So, what is the immediate problem?"
"We think an alien spaceship may have landed here, some time after the Great War. Which means, the alien threat may not be over. Can I see your Pip-Boy?"
"If you must, just don't' mess it up."
"Just need to add some things to your map." Sally tinkered for a few moments, and the Pip-Boy beeped and blopped a bit, and then she held the device away from her, and squinted. "Oops."
"Sally..." The wanderer let out a low growl. He looked up from his rifle, and shook his head.
"It's fine, it's fine. Here." She handed it back. "See, the ship is over here. And we are here, near as I can tell."
"You're a bit off the path, by nearly 200 miles. Your transporter thing not working?"
"It seemed to be working fine when we left," answered Elliott. "I have a theory though. I was afraid of this when we first made the transport." Elliott stood up, and walked over to the edge, and looked over the wasteland. "They must have a defensive shield, similar to those on the ship, to prevent you from just transporting aboard. Strategically, it only makes sense, if you have that technology, you would develop a way to counter it."
"I guess we have some walking to do," sighed Sally. "Are you ready?"
"Yes. Got this rifle all fixed up. Thanks for the glue. I'm going to see if the raiders have anything useful. Apparently, they didn't appreciate me defending a few old settlers. I think this was the last of that gang."
"They clearly have no idea who you are." commented Sally.
"I like it better that way. Why do you think I ended up here, far away from D. C.?"
"Aren't you lonely? I get kind of lonely, with only Elliott around. That's why I visit Megaton and Canterbury Commons once in awhile. Visit Maggie, Harden, even Machete."
"I guess they are all much older now. Well, a bit of food and some ammo. Not bad." Vault 101 packed up in short order, extinguishing his fire, and throwing most of his belongings into the massive footlocker. He did keep his Shishkabob on his belt, as well as the laser pistol. He strapped the Gauss rifle to the back of the footlocker, but still relatively easy to access. The black rifle he kept in his hands.
"That looks like one of those special rifles, only a few in the rangers and other special ops had them," commented Elliott.
"This is Sydney. I picked her up in a gladiatorial fight. Called an Infiltrator I think." The wanderer looked a little wistful, and then turned to Sally, who was looking at the gadget on her wrist. "Where we heading captain?"
"That way," pointed Sally.
"I was thinking of heading that way. Come on Dogmeat, leave the mole rat alone, you've eaten enough." The dog left the remains of the molerat, and followed his master. The four climbed down the rumble and dirt around the remains of the house, and headed across the land, walking at a good pace. Vault 101 left his helmet off for the time being. He could barely feel the night breeze across his irradiated skin.
He wasn't sure what he thought of his transformation, but he wouldn't have asked for it. Some days, he wondered if he should have just sent Fawkes to turn on the purifier. But he felt it was his "destiny" to turn it on. He should have died. He didn't, and the transformation didn't begin till several years later. But he was sure, for whatever reason his change was delayed and slow in coming, that that incident had been the catalyst for the change.
Despite his recent lonely sojourn, it was good to have more company for awhile. The companions walked along long forgotten roads, and scraggly plants trying to grow in radiation blasted soil, and the remains of a once bustling civilization, scattered all over the place. The lights from his Pip-Boy, and Elliott and Sally's alien lights of some sort split the darkness, and sent most critters skittering away. The few that persisted in their attacks died quickly, mostly to his silenced gun, to prevent alerting more to their presence.
In the few occasions that they were rushed by more creatures than he could safely take out, the other two puled out their alien handguns and vaporized the beasts. "The Captains pistol. Taking good care of my gift?"
"Of course. I am the captain after all," responded Sally, looking over the unique gun's smooth design, before sliding it back into a holster on her belt.
"I still don't understand how you figured all this out. We were just lucky we managed to control the ship at all. Fortunately, the aliens have very simple controls."
"Right, I was going to tell you," answered Elliott. "Really, the reason we were able to figure this all out, and take control of the ship, comes down to one event. We found one consul, and Sally and I sat down to try to mess with it. Next thing we knew, these things came down over our heads, and there was a bright light."
"I know the feeling," interjected Vault 101.
"When we came to, we were still in the chairs. I didn't think anything had happened, but, things just started making sense."
"It was so cool. It was Fat City, we could understand things we couldn't before, use their computers, take control of the drones, not like with that device you gave us, but all over the ship." Sally became more excited as she went on. "we cleared up the rest of the aliens, and I think we have pretty much explored the whole ship now. You have got to see some of the places up there."
"We found ways to produce more biogel, ammunition, food...plenty. We certainly aren't hurting for caps selling that stuff," added Elliott.
"Huh...crazy." The wanderer just shook his head. "Wait...I hear something." The party stopped. They had entered an area that must have been a city. There were a lot of buildings, crumbled and falling down, none in very good condition. The wanderer stepped ahead slowly, sweeping the area in front of him with his light. His sharp hearing, trained from years of wandering the wastes, living by his wits and skills, and a good bit of luck, picked up more movement and growls. And then he saw it. A humanoid creature, on all fours, rushed from the darkness, snarling.
"Trogs...it would have to be trogs." The Wanderer raised his rifle and opened up. The Trog's head exploded, sending brain matter across the broken pavement behind him. The rifle was quiet, relatively speaking, and had no muzzle flash. But the trogs death cry was not. More creatures scuttled from the darkness, some even leaping from the buildings.
Being quiet was no longer an option. Sally's pistol was out, and unleashed a barrage of high energy blasts, ripping an arm and a leg from the closest trog. It spun across the ground, still screeching, its remaining limbs skittering across the ground. Elliott slid his familiar assault rifle from his back and opened fire, sending a barrage of rounds tearing into the oncoming trogs.
His first clip took the first to down, but he didn't have time to reload before a third slammed into him, sending him to the ground. He fumbled to get to his Atomizer, but the trog's strength and fury prevented him from grasping it. And then a furry tornado slammed into the trog, knocking it away. Dogmeat's teeth sank into the beast's throat, and ripped it out. Another trog charged towards the dog, but didn't get close when a shock baton slammed into its arm, and the resulting shock sent his staggering back, his muscles contracting uncontrollably. An Atomizer blast finished the job.
Vault 101 dropped his rifle, and pulled and ignited the Shishkabob, drawing his laser pistol with the other hand. He slashed the next trog in the chest, and then send a servo enhanced boot into its head. The next one took a laser blast in the face, and then decapitation. Another one jumped onto his back, and the weight of his pack and the trog sent him to the ground, on top of the trog. Another trog leaped onto his chest, but before it could sink its teeth into his unprotected face, its head exploded from a ball of energy that could only have come from a Disintegrator.
Vault 101 shoved the dead trog away, and unstrapped his footlocker, and stood up. The trog beneath it was about break free when his head was crushed. "You better not have damaged my Gauss rifle." He flipped the remaining gas off of his blade, and sheathed the extinguished blade. He lifted his backpack, and shook some of the gore off of it, then retrieved his Gauss rifle before setting it down. He raised it one one hand, and pointed it at an oncoming trog, only meters away. Firing a Guass rifle one handed is very inaccurate, not to mention dangerous. But this was the hero of the wasteland. The round slammed into the trog, and blew it in half, vaporizing some as it went through. It punched through the wall beyond, unleashing a cloud of masonry dust, and killed another trog beyond, before embedding itself in the ground beyond.
"It still works." Vault 101 dramatically blew smoke from the end of the barrel. "There is no kill like overkill, as they say."
After firing the shot that killed the trog on top of Vault 101, Sally found her gun knocked away by a charging trog. She managed to side step the attack, but lost her gun. Her pistol needed reloaded, so she reached to her back and pulled out her tertiary weapon. The curved blade slipped from the sheath, and slashed across the chest of the trog, leaving a trail of fog and vapor in its wake. The trog staggered back, and looked down at itself, and noticed gray frost growing from the wound. Sally smiled, and kicked it in the chest. A good portion of it shattered with the impact, and the trog was dead.
She turned and faced another trog. She took a deep breath, and swung the sword forward, slashing of both of its forearms, and the running it through, pinning it to a wall. She held it there for a few moments, as the creature iced over, and then she punched it, and it crumpled and shattered. She removed the sword from the wall, and turned around.
Vault 101 was lowering his Gauss rifle. Elliott was holstering his Atomizer, Dogmeat running about barking at several retreating trogs, off to find easier prey. Around a dozen or so trogs lay around them.
"Huh. That samurai guys sword..." commented Vault 101.
"Elliott made some alteration. I call it the Cyro-katanna."
"He was a brave man, but I always wish I could have understood what he said. Helped us out in the final battle though."
Elliott was kneeling down near one of the trogs. "What are these things? Looks kind of human."
"Yeah, they were, once, but they suffer from some disease. I have dealt with them once before, but that isn't a time I like to revisit. It is where I got Sydney though." Vault 101 picked up his rifle, as well as gathering his other belongings. "Come one Dogmeat, stop messing around. You don't want to eat that."
"What happened?" asked Sally, walking over, stopping to retrieve her Disintegrator on the way.
"I don't want to talk about it, at least not now." He tried to say it in as nice of a way as possible, but it still came out as a harsh shutdown. He looked up at Sally. "I had to make a decision with no good options, and I don't know if I ever want to find out if I made the right one. Could go either way. Can we leave it at that?"
"Of course. I didn't mean to pry."
"There are only a few things I won't discuss. I'll talk about how my first love kicked me out for political reasons, and how my mother and father died, but not this." He looked down at his Pip-Boy. "It appears we are near where I was before, but still a ways off. Considering the amount of radiation, we should go around anyway. It won't be too far out of the way."
"Alright, you would now better." added Sally. Elliott had stood up now, and was looking around.
"Maybe we should rest here, since we already cleared out the local populace, and some of these buildings will provide some shelter and protection," suggested Elliott. Vault 101 nodded.
"Good idea. There is still a few hours before sunrise. Wait...something else?" The three quickly faced outward, and noticed a few individuals had surrounded them while they had been fighting. The three raised their weapons, and Vault 101 couldn't remember if he had reloaded after the fight.
The figures were encased in armor and helmets, but the armor was rough, with visible seams, and multiple decorations, usually horns. Some had lights, which shown around them, and onto their fellows. They moved like clunky power armor. Vault 101 muttered under his breath. People wearing power armor this clunky shouldn't have been able to sneak up so easily. A second look revealed that not all had power armor, though their metal armor was similar in design.
They were carrying assault rifles, smgs, and what appeared to be shotguns, and several had very large bore rifles Vault 101 didn't recognize. In front of them, deeper into the city, one of the figures approached. He was carrying a laser rifle, with some modifications. Several other figures flanked what appeared to be the leader. And then another item of note struck the wanderer. The figures had power tools, with spinning blades and yellow casings hanging on their backs. The leader finally spoke.
"What business do you have here?"
"We are just passing through. Thought about camping here for the night, but all these bright lights are kind of distracting," quipped Vault 101.
"Funny." As he spoke, Vault 101 was pretty sure, that despite the muffled voice, it was probably a female. "I suggest you turn back and leave. Nothing good awaits you."
"I'm not in the habit of running."
"Oh, and who are you?" asked the leader. Before Vault 101 could answer, Sally interjected.
"Don't you know? This is the Lone Wanderer, the kid from Vault 101, the hero of the wasteland.."
"Sally..." growled Vault 101 under his breath.
"Really?" She seemed to think for a second. "Well, our leader would like to speak with you. Please come with us. We will escort you. Would you mind lowering your weapons?"
"That seems foolish."
"Alright." The leader set her rifle down, and removed her helmet, revealing a young woman with a dark complexion and dark black hair. "Do I look familiar?"
"Vaguely...have I met you before?"
"No. I am Captain Josephine, one of Lady Marie's top lieutenants. I ask again, will you accompany us. Of you are so determined to go this way, this is the safest way." Vault 101 looked her over. He considered himself a good judge of character. She seemed honest. Her face was one that seemed unmarred by the wastes and terrors of the world.
"Did you say Lady Marie?"
"I did."
"We will accompany you."
"I thought you wanted to avoid this place?" hissed Sally.
"Call it morbid curiosity. I guess knowing his better than spending a life regretting." The leader retrieved her rifle, but left her helmet off, and turned and something to those next to her. Soon, a small party was heading through the city. The three visitors and Dogmeat were in the center of the force. The leader, Josephine, stayed next to them, but still towards the front. She had sent a couple without power armor ahead.
Within about twenty minutes of silence, broken by the constant hiss of servos and clanks of armor and weapons, they arrived a secured gate leading to a tunnel. Two of the company opened the doors, leading them into the dark damp irradiated subway tunnels.
Just inside was an old train, rusted, with plates welded on it. It had no aesthetic glory, but looked relatively sturdy. The others began getting onto the vehicle. Sally looked hesitantly at Elliott, and then Vault 101. He just shrugged and got on. There was a whir, and some loud clanking in the front, and then the train began to move. It reached a pace a bit faster than walking, and headed down the tracks.
Sally was sure it was going to derail at any moment. The loud clanking continued nearly constantly, with only a few breaks. Elliott looked ahead, past where Josephine and two others were sitting in the car they were in. Two of the party where cranking up and down on a handcar, but there were other devices hooked up around it.
"Handcar powers several generators, they power the wheels," Josephine spoke up. "Clunky, but it works."
"Who are you?" asked Sally.
"Us? Why, we are the citizens of the Pitt, more specifically the 5th Scout Raiders. Don't laugh Vault 101. A lot has changed since you were here."
"Has it? I was afraid it had just gotten worse."
"I guess you will have to judge for yourself." The remainder of the trip passed uneventfully. The raiders spent most of the time playing cards, cleaning their guns, and insulting each other. They nearly dissolved into fights, but Josephine shut them down with brutal efficiency. Soon, they disembarked, and left the tunnel. Bright light lanced from above, but only in the patches away from the thick smog. It was the following day, early in the morning. The most noticeable feature was the constant sound of pounding presses, which were constant and saturating.
As soon as they left, they were met by more of the garrish citizens of the Pitt. In the center was the leader, in power armor, which actually looked nice and clean, though still very tribal in design. She looked nearly identical to Josephine, but older, with streaks of gray in her hair, and lines on her face. She stepped right up to the wanderer, and looked him over.
"The last teddy bear you got me smelled horrible. Where did you find it? The stomach of a mirelurk?"