Prologue
"Kent!"
"Wake up, Kent! Hurry!"
I woke up, acrid smoke burning my eyes and choking me. My mother stood over my bed, shaking me. She was draped in a shawl and carried a suitcase in her left hand. I leapt out of bed, pulling on my woolen trousers and a button-down cotton shirt. "What's going on, Mom?!" I asked, anxiously.
"Our city's being attacked! We have to GO! Mr. Stetson has a Brahmin cart ready down the road. Come on! Pack your things!"
I packed a case full of my most treasured things, namely, my Abilene Kid BB gun, my Vault 58 jumpsuit – which was my father's before he left us – a toy car, a small box of BB ammo, and my Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle cap with a blue star on it.
My mother and I ran out of the house, going as fast as we could toward the end of the street, where a small group of four or five people gathered around a cart. These were my neighbors, and they were loading their stuff into the cart. Once we had everything in the cart, we piled in and Mr. Stetson, the town's deputy, snapped the reins and the Brahmin set out towards the road out of town.
Chapter One
How did we get here? What's going on? I suppose now's the best time to explain myself. My name is Kent Millard, and I am (was) a resident of Kilburn, Utah. The year is 2177, and the southwest of what was once the United States is now known as a wasteland, a dead expanse of irradiated land. The United States was pitched into a nuclear fallout after the two week nuclear war between the US and China. Those who survived did so in great underground vaults. I was a member of Vault 58, born there in 2161. By then, the standoff was pretty much over and in 2162, we came out of the vaults. My father and a couple of other men from the vault formed the town of Kilburn, built in and around Vault 58. My dad was killed when I was ten, in a gunfight started by a drunken man. Ever since then, my mom, Janice, has raised me.
I had always been fascinated by stories of the old world, pre-fallout, which seemed to be so orderly and calm. I've been told that my toy car, which has been with me as long as I can remember, resembles a Mercury. I have tried to find information about this for a long time, to no avail.
I'd heard so much about two major factions that had arisen in the wake of the fallout. One was called Caesar's Legion, and it sounded to me like this was someplace you would not want to end up in. They were based on old Roman customs, even going so far as to keep slaves. The other, which I was positively enamored with, was called the NCR, or the New California Republic. They sought to bring back old-world justice and government, and their armies fought mightily against the Legion. The main hotbed of clashes had been in a place called the Mojave wasteland, which, according to maps I've studied, lies where Nevada was in the old order.
Unfortunately, Utah fell squarely in Legion territory. Our little town of Kilburn hadn't had much interaction with the Legion, other than the occasional patrol through Kilburn. But today was different.
Chapter Two
Today, the Legion, for whatever reason, decided to descend on Kilburn, slaughtering friends and neighbors, destroying and looting houses, and blowing up the town hall. This is what caused us to flee.
The Brahmin cart proceeded slowly along the Long 15, as we called the ruins of Interstate 15. Most, if not all, of us were scared out of our wits. Babies clung to parents, and even the parents shook with fear and apprehension. As we went along, we encountered no other Legion members, oddly enough. Old Stetson pulled over for a moment and took a basket full of food out of the wagon. All of us were famished, and the squirrel stew and roasted banana yucca fruits that his wife, Mamie, had prepared were just what we all needed. After a lukewarm bottle of our staple drink, Sunset Sarsaparilla, we hitched up the wagon once more and resumed the trip. Day turned to night, and after about two days' travel, someone saw a light in the distance.
First, we had to determine from afar whether this was Legion, NCR, or civilian. The Legion, since we weren't formally part of it, would likely enslave us. The NCR has been known to show clemency toward refugees, and if it were a group of civilians, then there's no telling who they are. They could even be drug-addled wasteland dwellers known as Fiends, who will happily rob a poor refugee for the shirt off his back.
One young man had brought a pair of binoculars, and he remarked that it seemed to be an NCR outpost. Gladly, Stetson drove us toward the light.
We were halted by a young trooper, asking for ID from each of us.
"We're refugees seeking a place to live further west." Mamie Stetson said.
"Ma'am, westward lies the Mojave wasteland. Things are fairly dangerous right now, but if you'll permit me, I'd recommend heading for Primm. It'll take a day's travel at least, but an NCR sheriff has been appointed there and I'm sure you'll find a safe place to live there."
I piped up, saying "Sir, it seems like the Colorado River is in our way. How will we get over it?"
The trooper flashed a smile and said "I'm actually happy you asked that. About a mile and a half up this road to your right, you'll find a left turn that will take you over the Hoover Dam, which proudly flies the flag of the Republic. If you need to rest, there's a refugee camp near the end of the dam roadway."
Stetson, who had fallen asleep, was shoved awake by Mamie, and after she reiterated the trooper's helpful directions, he said "Thanks, sir. Glad to meet ya." and snapped the reins, heading northward.
Chapter Three
Wow. For the first time in my life, I've seen an actual NCR trooper. Oh, what I'd give to join the ranks.
Anyway, we reached the refugee camp at the end of the dam, and Stetson tied up his old Brahmin. The cart was unpacked, and we set out all our bedrolls. Mamie decided to brew up some coffee, and she had also brought a box of biscuits. We supped on these, and as we were getting ready to fall asleep, my mischievous side got the better of me.
I ran onto the dam, going through the door of what was once the visitor center. Skirting around the edge of the hallways, I found myself in a dark passage, illuminated only by small green electric lamps spaced about ten feet apart. Just as I crossed a hall, I ran smack into…
A leg. The leg was attached to a person. And the person was a tall man, wearing black armor, jeans, and a brown duster. He had on the most peculiar helmet I think I've ever seen, equipped with a breather and red glowing goggles.
"What are you doing here, civilian?" he intoned.
"Um… Um… Am I not allowed back here?" I said, with a sheepish grin.
The man replied "Boy, do you know where you are?"
"The Hoover Dam, sir." I replied smartly.
"Very good. More specifically, an off-limits section of the Hoover Dam. This zone is restricted to military personnel only."
"Oh, okay… I guess I'll leave then. Thanks for the info."
"Not so fast. You're coming with me. Move."
He walked me through the Dam for what seemed like an hour, until we stopped in front of a door. Another man wearing identical armor stood guard.
The man standing guard said "Davison, I thought Moore told you not to bring pets home?"
This elicited a chuckle from the first man, saying "No, Hull, I just found this one sneaking around sector 41q. I think Moore should talk to him and make sure he didn't see anything he shouldn't have."
The man at the door swiped a keycard through a slot next to the door and the door opened.
"Go right in, young man. The Colonel is expecting you." said the first man.
I hesitantly walked in, examining my surroundings. To my left, there was a small sitting area with two couches and a chair. Paintings adorned some parts of the wall, and a threadbare rug lay beneath the couches. To my right, there were bookshelves flanking a desk, where a young woman was seated. Not as young as me – she looked to be about thirty – but young nonetheless. She beckoned me over. I pulled up a small chair in front of the desk.
Oh man, what have I gotten myself into… I pondered as she began to speak.
Chapter Four
She introduced herself as Colonel Cassandra Moore, NCR, commander of the Hoover Dam garrison.
"What did you see?" she commanded.
I timidly said "Nothing, ma'am. I was just exploring the Dam because, well, I think the NCR is amazing."
"That's nonsense and you know it." she quipped.
"No, honestly!"
"Fine. I guess I get your meaning. But due to protocol, I have to offer you two choices. Since we can never be sure – and I don't want you to think this is because I don't believe you – you didn't see anything, you're in a sticky situation. You either have to join up and become a trooper, or we have to kill you. Sorry it has to be this way, kid."
I didn't even have to think about that one.
"I'll enlist, ma'am."
"Good. I was hoping you'd pick that. We need someone like you. Did you know someone spotted you when you came in and we didn't find you for forty-five minutes? That's remarkable. Someone with your skills would not go unnoticed. Why are you at the Dam, anyway?"
"I'm here with my mom. We're refugees from Utah. Legion burned our town to a crisp."
"Your mom? How old are you, kid?"
"I'm sixteen, seventeen in August."
"Really. I would've taken you for twenty."
She chuckles and sends me to go tell my mom what I'm going to do.
My mom couldn't seem to decide between fury and sadness. She was livid at the fact that I ran away without her knowledge, but she was quickly overcome by tears after she learned her son would have to leave her. I tried my best to console her, but what's the best I could do?
I grabbed the duffel I'd packed for myself, said my final goodbyes, and walked back toward the visitor center entrance.
"Don't forget to come to Primm!" my mother called after me.
I blew her a kiss and said "Mama, I'll be around as soon as I can. I love you."
"I love you too, my son."
Chapter Five
The first few weeks were hectic, to say the least. The training wasn't too bad, considering that in a post-nuclear wasteland, you're almost always running from something. The mental conditioning basically boiled down to: Legion, bad. The NCR must always strive to uphold justice and traditional values. I mean, I was thrilled to be there, but there was so much training! I got my first set of fatigues, and I also got a really cool-looking helmet with some goggles on it. I was officially Private Kent Millard, New California Republic Army.
I reported directly to Sergeant Bert Flanagan, who seemed angry, but once you got on his good side, he'd move mountains for you. I was issued with a service rifle and a case of 5.56mm rifle ammo, along with a combat knife. I was to keep these on my person at all times. My first duty assigned to me by the Sergeant was patrol. I had the dog watch, meaning that in the early hours of the morning, I'd patrol topside on the dam. Nothing of interest happened, but I noticed a fort up in the hills to the east of the Dam. Sgt. Flanagan informed me that this was a major camp for the Legion army and that they were likely planning another attack on the Dam in the coming months. Needless to say, I was ready to fight to the death to uphold the NCR. I was in love.
Days turned into weeks, which turned into months. I had gone west a couple of times to visit the Strip, a shining beacon of commerce and lavishness seemingly untouched by the apocalypse. My bunkmate, John Harland, tagged along. He was twenty-three and had been with the NCR army for four years. He came from what we called "the Hub", which was NCR's capital. It was built up on the ruins of a city called Los Angeles. He came to the Mojave seeking freedom, and if walking down the New Vegas Strip drinking and having a good time isn't freedom, then I don't know what is. The military police kept order, but scarier still were the Securitrons.
The Strip had been run for the past 197 years by a man named Mr. House, and his army of robot Securitrons had policed the Strip for decades. He presided over his "realm" of the Strip from the derelict Lucky 38 Casino, where no human had set foot in over 100 years. I know what you're thinking, I'm going to sneak in, but I didn't. Something stopped me from going in. I don't know what the feeling was, but it caused me to turn right back around and head back to the Gomorrah casino. A few days later, John and I, along with a few other troopers and Rangers, headed back to the Dam.
Chapter Six
It was the worst day of my life.
I woke up slowly, wiping the sleep from my eyes. I can remember it clear as day: there I was, sitting in the mess hall, chowing down on some cold Brahmin steak, and a call came over the loudspeaker: "Legion forward units heading straight for the Dam! Scramble! Scramble! All troops topside!" John and I jumped up at the same time. We quickly ran back to our bunk and dressed ourselves, first putting on our cargo pants and button-down shirt. We pulled on our armor and gun belt afterward, then we slung our service rifles over our backs and tossed on our helmet.
We met several other troopers in the hallway, also sprinting toward the main staircase. Reaching the top, we were ordered to take squad positions. All of the squads grouped up, and altogether, the squads formed a five thousand-strong army. At the front of the army stood Colonel Moore and several other leaders. The veteran Rangers were both interspersed throughout the army and posted around the Dam in sniper positions. In the distance, I saw what was essentially a mirror image of our army. These men, however, were dressed in mock ancient Roman armor, armed with gladii and javelins, along with guns of all shapes, sizes, and calibers. This was Caesar's Legion, and they seemed fearsome even from a distance. A white-haired man was carried on a litter at the front of the army; I assumed this to be Caesar himself.
In the distance, I heard the steady chok-chok-chok-chok of a Vertibird's propellers coming closer to the Dam. Moments later, the 'bird touched down on a small stretch of pavement just behind our troops. Out stepped none other than the Commander-in-Chief of NCR's military in the Mojave, General Oliver. He was decked out in full battle regalia, and the silver stars of general glittered in the sunlight, enhancing his importance. He walked through the columns of troops, inspecting us, then he proceeded to the front of the army and spoke briefly to Colonel Moore. She introduced him to us, then stepped back into the crowd.
He turned and addressed the troops:
"Thank you, Colonel Moore. And thank you, my fellow Californians, who have come so far to answer the call to service put forth by the republic. It is for you that I have come here, and it is because of you that I am able to do so. We enjoy our privileges because you take the greatest of risks and are prepared to make the most noble of sacrifices. It is because of men and women like you, all of you, that Nevada and the New California Republic remain free and secure."
He continued: "Troopers and rangers, just like you, answered the call for justice. Men and women stepped forward to say, 'I will carry the weight.' And at Owen's Lake, we made true on our promise, driving out the raider tribes to establish a lasting peace in the eastern Sierra Nevadas. We carried the weight, and though we left behind many of our brothers and sisters on that battlefield, it did not break us."
"Ten years ago, Chief Elise met with representatives of the Desert Rangers to discuss terms of what would become the Ranger Unification Treaty. The treaty was more than a resolution to welcome the Desert Rangers into the republic. It was a covenant to protect southern Nevada against Caesar's Legion and the tyranny of his regime. There are some back home who ask me, "But who are we protecting? What is Nevada to us?" Sometimes we forget that the light of our society shines beyond our borders. Sometimes we take those privileges for granted that our forebears fought so hard to achieve. We must always remember that wherever Californians stand, we carry our principles with us: equal respect, representation, and protection under the laws of a just republic."
"This was the same fire that burned in the heart of the Old World that preceded us. We are the heirs of that civilization, torchbearers eastward of the Pacific, into the darkness of this wasted land. Not far from this spot, a monument stands as a tribute to the sacrifice made by those who came before us, the men and women who fulfilled the promise we made to the Desert Rangers. Its back is inscribed with the names of the troopers and rangers who carried the weight. And because they made the most noble of sacrifices, it did not break us."
"Four years ago, we held this dam. Four years ago, we carried the weight. Four years ago, we drew a line through the Mojave as clear as the Colorado River, a line that Caesar cannot cross. Today, you stand here with our brothers and sisters to hold that line. Today, you honor all Californians by carrying that weight. Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevadas, defiant and enduring. You are the great western light of California, torchbearers in the darkness, living reminders of all that is best in our republic."
Cheers and applause rang out from the troops. We were ready to carry the weight and defend this dam from the Legion. Let them come, I said. General Oliver paced along the front of the crowd, surveying us.
He spoke up again, saying "Troopers, Rangers, NCR men and women, are you prepared to fight to the death for the glory of the Republic, and for all it stands for?"
An enormous "Sir, yes sir!" ripped across the Dam with full force.
"Well then, troops, take ready positions! Send these dogs back across the Wasteland!" Oliver shouted.
All at the same time, thousands of men unslung their guns from their backs and made ready.
Shots whizzed across the Colorado River. The second Battle of the Hoover Dam had officially begun. Ranger vets, with their long anti-materiel rifles, sniped rival Legion snipers at a distance of 7,000 feet. The Legion soldiers returned fire and simultaneously burst from their ranks and stampeded for the Dam. We followed suit, whooping and screaming as bullets whipped by overhead.
Chapter Seven
We met the Legion in full force at the east end of the Dam. Shotguns cracked off their slug rounds, rifles rat-tat-tatted away, and the machetes of the Legionnaires sang as they clanged against NCR combat knives. Men dropped like flies. I ran to the power station inside the Dam to try to fend off Legion troops attacking the engineers and soldiers stationed there.
My rifle butt ground its way into my shoulder as I cracked off shot after shot. It would hurt like hell in the morning, but hey, at least I'm still alive. John Harland, my bunkmate, had been tagging along with me the whole time, and in the process of fighting off Legion men, we covered behind some crates to reload. He looked really scared, probably more than I was, and he started talking about his wife back home and how much she would miss him.
"John, you'll be fine. You won't die if you remember what we learned in training." I said.
"B...but I'm so scared! Millie will be so…" He was cut off by a Legion sniper bullet. We'd been spotted. Where his head was, there was now nothing. I was in shock. Something in me managed to pull me up and back toward the other troopers, safe.
John was dead. I couldn't bring myself to terms with this, but it was war, and war never changes. It takes young men and women and spits them back out. I had to keep my head in the game. The Legion's attack lasted for three or so more hours, and after these countless hours of fighting, NCR forces were finally able to push the Legion back.
The battle is over. I'm now walking along the dam, stepping over corpses, NCR and Legion alike in death. It doesn't matter what your allegiance in life was, I think. We all die. This never changes. I'm very deep in my thoughts, especially after what happened to John. I'll just go down to the bunks now and sleep. I just can't be awake right now. Goodnight, diary.
Epilogue
The prospector was crawling through the ruins of the Dam. He found a small bunkroom, and entombed there was the corpse of an NCR man, dressed in combat fatigues and clutching a journal. It looked as if he had had a heart attack due to shock. It is because of this prospector that you are reading this account. He took the journal to the New Vegas Sun, and we ran this story. It was published, and you, the reader, have encountered such fortuitous circumstances as to come into possession of a copy of this book. We here at the Sun sincerely hope that your experience as the reader has been a good one, and thank you for reading this book.