Well here we are at long last. I bet this came out earlier than most of you expected, eh?


Children of the Atom

Chapter 1


The canyon stretched as far as the eye could see. A great cataclysmic rift, splitting the world to its very foundations. The only emotion the colossal trench invoked was one of despair. It represented the end of the road. All roads. It was life. It was death. It was of the old world, and the new. It was not just a scar, another crater on the surface. It was a deep and grievous wound, baring the planet to its very bones. Earth's fatal injury.

A man sat upon an overturned car a great height above, and looked down upon it. He watched the collapsed towers lying in ruin at the bottom, the water and fluids draining out of the old-world pipes. Electrical cables crossed the immense fissure, spitting static and bleeding electrical discharges. The sparks lit up the endless walls of the trench, and could be seen for miles. He watched the great divide's demonic denizens crawling like ants over the wreckage of the old world, and felt that he was staring into the deepest pit of hell.

This was not his doing, but walking it was his penance. His duty. His life's meaning now that she had come and gone. He lowered his gas mask to take a sip from his water bottle.

"Ulysses?" A quiet voice cut through the swift, bracing wind.

Ulysses stood, brushing his thick black dreadlocks out of his eyes. A visitor stood behind him a few feet away, hands at his sides.

Ulysses' arm swept out, showing the Great Divide. "This road…not yours to walk. If you move forward I will not stop you, but know that this would be your end."

The man glanced mildly at the rift. "No. It wouldn't."

"Arrogance." Ulysses intoned.

"Knowledge."

"Ignorance."

"Experience." The man said with an air of finality which brooked no argument.

Ulysses' head tilted as he considered his visitor. The man had an ageless face. A dirty, worn blue jumpsuit. At his hip was a single 10mm pistol. His face and hair were spotlessly clean, and he carried himself with such striking gravitas that it gave the former courier pause. This man was not to be trifled with. Ulysses moved around him, surveying him from every angle. On the back of the man's blue jumpsuit was a worn number in yellow lettering.

"Thirteen." Ulysses said, "Old number. Hated number."

"Only on the paths you've trodden."

"You fight for the Bear?"

"Not the Bear, nor the Bull." The man smiled, "I do believe I am something you've never seen before."

Ulysses stared. "I have seen many things. Some I would remember. Others, Forget. In youth walked many roads for the Bull. Watched men live, watched men die. I watched the sun rise on Caesar's empire. Watched it fall on my own tribe. Watched land split, sky darken over the Divide. A place which could have been. I have walked the longest roads in this world."

The man's smiled widened, and out of Ulysses brain, he pulled the Courier's deepest thoughts. "If you say so. But what lonely roads they were, yes? You sit here now, wiser, stronger, faster… you are not bothered by wind, rain, dust, radiation. No matter the circumstances, no matter the odds, you live. Through bullets, and radiation, and nuclear fire, you live. But the bullets have long since lost their sting. The Radiation lacks its burn. Nothing affects you anymore. And here you stand, at the supposed end of your road… believing it's where you belong because you have nothing else left to believe in. You've seen too much, and you've lived too long. You are not the same idealistic boy who left the Twisted Hairs to scout in Caesar's name. Not physically. Not mentally. You've survived so much you're not even sure you're human anymore."

Ulysses took a step back, eyes widening. "Who are you?"

"Albert Cole."

Ulysses grunted in frustration. The Stranger had reached right into his soul and touched the darkest thoughts which the Courier had barely admitted to himself on the darkest sleepless nights. "Did not ask that. Who are you?"

The man raised both of his hands, palms upwards. "I alone am responsible for the birth of Shady Sands, and through it, the NCR. Long before Caesar's birth, I bore witness to the death of the Master, and the rise and fall of the Enclave. I saw the rise of the Mid-Western Brotherhood of Steel, the destruction of the Reavers, and the Calculator. Even now, that civilization is in its twilight years, besieged on three fronts, it will die soon, and still I walk on. I will be there to see humanity's Phoenix rising from the ashes again and again and again. I am called Albert Cole, The Vault Dweller. And I, for one, am tired of walking. I believe, Ulysses, that it is once again time to get involved."


The elevator door to Mister House's Penthouse slid back to reveal an unusually beautiful young woman. Most people in the wastelands aged quickly, exposed to sun and hard toil, yet she looked untouched by the roughness of the world. Her skin was pale, despite the hours she spent in the sunlight.

With brilliant green eyes she took in the NCR desert rangers wearing their black armour and dusters, standing guard on either side of the elevator and she raised one dark, slender eyebrow in surprise.

She herself was dressed in a sleeveless blue duster with the ace of spades and the number twenty-one emblazoned on the back. A desert ranger beret was fitted neatly on her head at just enough of an angle to give it a fashionable look instead of a functional one. Perhaps the only thing marring her beautiful features were two scars, so close together they might as well have been one. They were round and rough, located on the right side of her forehead, though she kept them partially obscured with a few carefully errant strands of her dark hair. When presented next to her jade eyes, flowing black hair, and well-endowed figure, they were hardly noticeable.

She smiled at the guards and they both immediately relaxed, weapons slowly lowering to their sides, despite their rigorous training.

The young woman moved past them and continued through a side doorway, brushing the plush curtain aside to reveal an enormous bank of monitors upon which was painted the handsome face of Robert Edwin House.

Seated on a couch below him were three people, two men and a woman.

"Ahh, Jessica." House's warm voice echoed through the airy space of the Penthouse, "Welcome. Please take a seat." His face flickered on the screen.

"I wish you had told me we were entertaining guests, I would have put this place in order." The young woman said, smiling once again. The guests below tore their eyes away from her to look around the Penthouse, in which not a single smudge of dust or dirt could be found. It was a sterile and well-organized place. The very opposite of the mess the woman was implying, though her words caused them to view their surroundings in a negative light.

Just because she said so.

While they examined the penthouse, she examined them. The two men were well-dressed with tailor-made suits. One was a military uniform and Jessica recognized the man beneath it as General Lee Oliver; the man who, six months ago, had held Hoover Dam against the onslaught of an utterly fanatical enemy. The badge on his shoulder depicted the NCR's insignia, the two-headed bear. The man had a hard face and an unyielding military view of the world. He would be the hardest nut to crack. Beside him, the second man was dressed in a tailor-made suit. His own haircut said military, but Jessica recognized the politician. A man who fought with words and ideas. He would be the easiest to outwit. The subtle blush of his cheeks told her that he had noticed more than her uniform, and was doing his best to hide his inner thoughts. She did not mind; that served her purpose better. The more his brain was occupied, either with thinking up adult scenarios for the two of them or trying to prevent himself from doing the same, the less brainpower was present to analyze her words and arguments. Besides, it was fun.

The woman in the trio was at least fifteen years' Jessica's senior, and had a stern demeanor. Wearing a standard NCR soldier's outfit, she gave the impression of a school marm and strict disciplinarian.

"Jessica, I do hope you aren't offended," Mister House began, "I've invited these three up to my penthouse to discuss a treaty, if you're not opposed."

"On the contrary, I have a deep-seated respect for the NCR!" Jessica said, slowly making her way down the stairs, her slender hand running along the railing. "I think that an alliance would benefit everyone." Her tone indicated, at least to the president and Colonel Moore, that the only things standing between a deep and lasting friendship between Free Zone and the NCR were a number of minor, yet unavoidable inconveniences which forced both sides, against their will, to opposing ends of the political and military pitch. It went a step further to suggest that the NCR was at fault for most of those inconveniences.

In reality, as General Lee Oliver clearly remembered, peace had been shoved down the exhausted NCR military's throat at gunpoint by the treacherous, silver-tongued young bitch and Mister House's army of robots.

Of the three visitors, he was the only one completely unmoved by her charms. He watched helplessly as President Aaron Kimball rose from his seat and kissed the young woman on the hand.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." the politician proclaimed, "I hear you were the one who saved my life."

"I do my best." The silver-tongued girl replied, turning her charm up a little. The president's eyes lingered on her a little too long for Oliver's comfort. Then the politician turned to his compatriots, "May I present Colonel Cassandra Moore, and General Lee Oliver."

"A pleasure." The young woman told them, oozing friendship and amiability.

"We've met." Oliver grunted, crossing his arms.

Cassandra Moore rose to her feet and shook the young woman by the hand, "Why are you dressed in a First Recon Beret?"

"A gift from a friend of mine."

"If we could get back to the discussion at hand…" Mister House prompted. President Kimball acted the gentleman and guided Jessica to a seat beside the couch.

"As you know, Jessica, Caesar's Legion has once again taken up residence on the east side of Hoover Dam." Said Mister House.

"And your Securitrons haven't wiped them out yet?" Jessica asked.

"They easily could." House assured them, "But this is much bigger than just another attempt to take the Mojave. The Legion's influence is far greater, and it's empire more vast than anything we had previously imagined."

President Kimball cleared his throat, "Just recently we received word from a group ruling the northern mid-west of the United States. It appears to be another section of the Brotherhood of Steel. They were requesting help."

"I thought the NCR and the Brotherhood didn't get along." Jessica said, frowning.

"That is in the past." Kimball said indistinctly.

"The Legion are much worse." Colonel Moore told her.

"We don't." Oliver grunted, his stare burning holes in the carpeted floor.

"The fact," Mister House said, "Is that they rule the mid-west. What you've seen of Caesar's Legion is not one-twentieth of the Full Legion. The rest of it is under the command of one William Calhoun, and in the background it has been quietly flooding east across the southern states, building up supplies and troops. His Frumentari have infiltrated all the way to the east coast. The old Caesar is dead, leaving his forces under Calhoun's command. We believe the new Caesar is going to catch the Mid-Western Brotherhood in a three-front war from the west, east, and south. If he succeeds, then America will be split neatly in half along the Colorado river, with the NCR and Free Zone on one side, and the Legion on the other. They will own more than half the continent."

He paused to allow his Protégé time to register and absorb the information.

"With that kind of territory under his control," Colonel Moore told her, "He could pull potentially limitless troops and supplies and overrun the NCR. Not to mention the Free Economic Zone."

"God knows, the last battle of Hoover Dam was a fiasco to say the least," Kimball added.

Jessica shot him a winning, toothy smile, and he responded in kind, adding: "But at the core, both the NCR and the Free Zone share the same values. It is only right and sensible to unite against a common threat."

"I could not have said it better myself!" Jessica said. Kimball's smile widened. Moore nodded in agreement. General Oliver's lip twisted in distaste.

"So what's the plan?" Jessica asked.

General Lee Oliver finally spoke, "Our allied forces will push east, unite with the Mid-Western Brotherhood of steel, and drive Caesar's Legion into the sea."

"And what's to become of the Free Zone when we're surrounded by the NCR?" Jessica asked.

"It will remain the Free Zone." Kimball promised, "Trusted and valued Allies of the NCR. We will share all resources, both military and civilian, and work together to build a brighter future.

"This is where you come in, Jessica." Mister House told her, "For a vast campaign like that, we need a symbol. A superweapon around which we can unite all three forces. A weapon to inspire fear in the enemy and the will to fight in our own soldiers."

Jessica laughed, "I'm a negotiator, not a warrior."

"Take a hold of your ego, Miss Chase." House reprimanded shortly. General Oliver snickered.

"You aren't the weapon." House told her shortly, "Hidden in a secret laboratory built into the very foundations of the Pentagon is the very superweapon we need. A robot called Liberty Prime."

"How do you know that?" Jessica asked.

"Because I built it." House answered.

"And I'm to cross Legion territory to retrieve it?"

"We're going to help." Kimball explained eagerly.

"We're giving you ten of our long-range vertibirds, as well as the assistance of a full platoon of NCR desert Rangers." General Oliver grunted, "Thirty fighting men in all. Your mission is to retrieve this robot and bring it safely back to McCarran base."

"Jessica," House added, "According to our latest intelligence, the Pentagon is occupied by a small number of Brotherhood soldiers. To our knowledge, they are embroiled in a twenty-year war with an equally inconsequential band of supermutants. Taking the Robot may upset them, but you do what you have to do. If our plan succeeds, they will be crushed beneath Calhoun's sandalled feet regardless."


One week later Jessica stood patiently on the parade square of Camp McCarren, enjoying the Mojave dawn. She was flanked by her two friends, a tall, awkward blond man in a lab coat and thick-rimmed glasses, and an auburn haired woman wearing a straw rattan cowboy hat.

"Qui audet adipiscitur." The man muttered quietly, hand planted easily on his plasma pistol.

"You and your made-up words, Gannon..." Rose of Sharon Cassidy shook her head, lifting up her hunting rifle, leaning it over her shoulder.

Arcade shot her a dirty look. "It's latin, for-"

"He who dares, wins." Jessica finished.

Before them, in the centre of the parade square, sat three hulking vertibirds, each one three times the size of the regular flying machines. Sixty NCR troops in their signature Brodie helmets were loading the vertibirds with stacks upon stacks of crates and cargo. Beyond them, Jessica could see the column of thirty NCR desert rangers in full armor, stock still.

"I'm sure if some of them helped out, we'd be loaded much faster." Gannon observed.

Cass shrugged. "Typical NCR." She reached into the rucksack which was leaning against her knee, and produced a small bottle of whiskey.

"We're not exactly helping either." Jessica replied evenly as her friend popped the cork and took a long swig.

"How long are we supposed to be there?" Cass asked, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

"If you'd been awake during the briefing this morning you would have notice that it's 2400 miles to Washington, DC." Arcade said testily.

"Why would I be awake when I can snooze and simply get all the info from you after?"

"Maximum flight velocity of those vertibirds is two-hundred and seventy-five miles per hour. That's…" his lips moved silently as he calculated, "around nine hours flight time. Give or take…"

"We get in, we grab the Robot, we get out." Jessica said firmly. "Four days. Five maximum. By the time the Legion catches up, we're already thousands of feet in the air, towing the damned thing back to House."

"You mean back to the NCR?" Arcade asked quietly.

Jessica smiled innocently, watching the bustling soldiers. "Isn't that what I said?"

"Five days." Cassidy said.

"Assuming nothing goes wrong…" Arcade added.

"How could anything go wrong?" Cass asked, grinning slyly, "We have the big strong NCR here to protect us."

One of the big strong, overly-muscled NCR soldiers was approaching them now. Jessica recognized him as the grizzled commander of the desert rangers. He had a massive jutting chin, beady eyes, and an astounding neolithic browline. He had been sitting in the early morning briefing, straight as a plank, and by Jessica's estimation, about as dense. He drew himself to a halt in front of them, standing firmly at attention.

"Ma'am. I'm Lieutenant Buck Savage, Third Platoon, Fifth Force Recon Company. I'll be commanding Alpha and Bravo Squads during the expedition.

"Yes, we saw you at the briefing." Cassidy said, a little too jovially.

Arcade gave him a friendly nod.

Jessica opened with a smile and gave him a hearty handshake. "A pleasure, Lieutenant. We're very relieved that you and your well-trained men-"

"Aaand women," Cass added.

"-and women-" she continued without missing a beat, "-are coming with us."

He gave her a terse, but not unfriendly nod. "Just stay behind us and follow orders, Ma'am. We'll see you through."

"Absolutely."

He pointed towards the veritbirds, "you may board Vertibird Valiant now. It's fully loaded. Get dug in."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Jessica said sweetly.

His mouth twitched into a smile for just a moment, then it returned to its default dead-eyed calm. He turned on his heel and marched back to his platoon.

"Bwaaah Oh my fucking god…" Cassidy exclaimed, starting to laugh the moment he was out of earshot.

"Behave yourself." Jessica chided gently. She reached down to her small pack and raised it to her shoulder. Beside her, Arcade was doing the same for his gear and medical supplies.

"Buck Savage?"Cassidy cackled. "BUCK SAVAGE?"

"I can think of worse names." Arcade said, grinning despite himself.

"May we board your vertibird, Lieutenant Brick Chesthair?" Jessica said.

"Flint Ironknob." Arcade added.

"Chuck Gruntlarge." Cassidy exclaimed.

"Plank Slabhorn!"

"Dick RibRattle!"

"Grub Steakbottom!"

"Beef Chunkfist!"

"I always liked a man in uniform." Arcade mused wiping his eyes as they crossed the tarmac.

Cass grinned. "You an' me both… unless his name is Gronk McSquatthrust."

"Especially if his name is McSquatthrust." Arcade waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay okay, stop, you guys." Jessica ordered, trying to contain her grin. They were at the Vertibird ramp, and a few of the NCR regulars were giving them odd looks.

The interior of the plan was dark and dingy and packed with supplies of all kinds including the massive black cables for lifting and hauling Liberty Prime. Each one was as thick as Jessica's arm.

Outside the vertibird, orders were being called out, and the strict rows of rangers began to filter off into two groups, each one marching for the vertibirds

The curved walls were lined with poorly padded seats. Jessica chose one near the front of the Vertibird and stowed her travel pack in the netting above her head. It contained some food, a change of clothes, a few stimpacks and medical supplies, and ammunition for her .45 calibre pistol, named A Light Shining in the Darkness.

Cassidy and Arcade took up station to either side, stowing their own gear. All three dug out their Caravan decks.

"Hey, Jessica," Cassidy said.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for finally bringing us along on one of your side-adventures."

"You might find yourself eating those words, Cass." Arcade said.

Jessica genuinely hoped not. But in her experience, nothing like this ever quite went according to plan.