Chapter 9

Terra Rising

"Let the future tell the truth, and evaluate each one according to his work and accomplishments. The present is theirs; the future, for which I have really worked, is mine."

~Nikola Tesla

"Touch down in 3… 2… 1…"

Louise's nerves were frayed like loose cables dancing with sparks. She somehow managed to maintain a calm exterior despite the fact that she was essentially landing several hundred tons worth of building.

The dull thud and the wave of dust thrown out by the command center's landing sent a palpable sense of relief flowing through her. The metal bulkheads groaned in protest as they settled down and back up before locking in place.

Lieutenant Weyland threw a thumbs up her way and smiled before turning her attention back to the controls as the cargo bay doors opened below with a clang.

She still could not fathom how she had gone from a Legion slave to a uniformed member of the Raiders in just a few short days. Every aspect of this new life felt like a dream that she kept expecting to wake up from.

She had owned a single Brahmin skin outfit her entire adult life, constantly repairing and patching the threadbare garment. Every available cap she and her husband earned went to keeping their children clothed and fed. Now she wore such finery as she had never imagined. She ran a hand over the thick rich material of the blue black coat she wore, the brass buttons shining against the red epaulets. Her once leather wrapped feet were now invisibly ensconced within thick leather boots that gleamed with polish.

Louise smiled as the Commander congratulated the crew on their success and gave orders for the security detachment and SCV crews to roll out. Her smile widened as she heard her husband's enthusiastic reply and leaned up from her console to catch a glimpse of him through the large observation port.

She could almost swear that she saw him wave back at her from inside the SCV he drove, but that was likely wishful thinking. It was impossible to tell which of the 3 SCVs her husband was driving, let alone tell if he was waving at her.

She hurriedly sat down and began to monitor the SCVs as they worked from her console at the muffled cough from the command dais.

Captain Griff cleared his throat, amused at the woman's excitement. He was pleased with how quickly the wastelanders had adapted to the new paradigm, which opened new strategic avenues in his mind. Though a great deal of their limited experience thus far only affirmed that they were strangers in a strange land, the people here were capable of learning and adapting to Terran technology with as much alacrity as anyone back home.

With Ashur's ability to 'read' people, they could recruit members of the local populace to bolster their numbers. It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement, with the added manpower, their ability to find a way home went from being a distant dream to a chance at true success. For the wastelanders, the technological advances they could offer would provide an exponential increase in their quality of life.

The wheels were turning in his head as he observed the SCVs already busy at work processing the scrap material in the compound. He did reserve some trepidation at the knowledge that he was effectively annexing a sovereign power's territory but knew that in order to have any chance at all surviving this ordeal, he would have to venture into almost piratical activity. He glanced at his wife, who stood over Louise's shoulder and offered guidance to the young woman as she worked. He would need his wife's moral compass more than ever to ensure that he did not cross the boundary into true piracy.

His fusion cutter made short work of the metal stanchions of the watchtower closest to the command center's processing bay. Satisfied at the pile of rusted steel he had collected, Luca used the hydraulic clamp of his SCV to hoist the several hundred pounds of material and moved to deposit it in the command center's refinery. He looked over to where Scott, their newest recruit, was working and noted with satisfaction that the sharp local was using the SCV's legs to scoop loose material into a metal mining cart before lifting the cart and dumping its contents onto the conveyor.

Dominic attached tow cables to the base of another tower, having cut the legs on the opposite end to pull the heap of metal over. He whistled happily as he worked, little else could bolster the engineer's mood quite like tearing apart dilapidated structures like these to forge new material. As an added bonus, the constant hammering, cutting and grinding noises issuing from the trio of SCVs out in the yard effectively drowned out Pvt. West's constant yammering about his hardskin.

The young marine's armor had taken an impressive amount of damage from the small arms fire he waded into in taking this compound and he had taken it upon himself to message the engineers every few minutes to ask when it would be repaired. Dominic could empathize with the young marine, knowing how he would feel if his SCV was broken and fallow. Though he was the more patient of the two, even he had his limits. Luca hadn't withstood much of Nathan's pestering before promising the young private that he would soon learn how it would feel to have a spanner jammed up his tailpipe. Luca was rewarded from his visceral description by being actively avoided by the recalcitrant marine.

110.0

Dominic noted the mineral count on his HUD and knew that the Commander would be pleased by their progress. Any minute now, the new staff officer up in the command center would direct one of them to begin construction of the modified supply depot. The 3 SCV operators had engineered a variation on the traditional supply depot. The new design would recycle the hydrocarbon byproduct of their scrap operations. With the material the depot could turn it into basic sundries using its nano-forge, giving the group a nearly constant stream of fresh supplies.

He smirked a little with a self-satisfied air at the wonder the wastelanders had displayed with audible gasps when they first entered the command center. Like a supply depot, the command center had a limited capability of providing logistical support to its personnel. Simple items like clothing, sundries and small arms were easily produced by the mammoth structure, provided it had sufficient power and minimal resources. The wastelanders and convicts had quickly divested themselves of their rags and now wore a variety of the uniforms used by the Raiders.

Their first meal in the cramped mess hall of the command center was a cause of celebration for them, a perspective he had trouble empathizing with as he muscled the reconstituted meat loaf past his gag reflex. But for the locals, radiation free food that actually had taste was a whole new experience for them. Eating anything at all was a survival tactics, anything even remotely edible finding its way into their gullets regardless of its nutritional value. He was presented with a sample of their fare, a 200 year old box of Salisbury steak that had slid out of its box as a brown slab. He took a tentative bite and regretted it immediately, spitting what amounted to sawdust from him mouth to the good natured laughter of the wastelanders.

The commander's wife, Sharon, had been concerned at the state of malnutrition, particularly among the children. She had already supplemented their diets with a daily regimen of vitamins and caloric supplements. He and Luca had found the plans for the hydroponics bay in the adjutant's memory banks much to her delight. Though it was a low priority until security could be established she talked the commander into putting it in the queue.

Not for the first time, he looked up at the cloud speckled sky and hoped that their involvement wouldn't jeopardize their chances at making it back home.

"It's me again, Mr. New Vegas, reminding you that you're nobody 'til somebody loves you. And that somebody is me. I love you."

"Scavengers report hulking individuals moving around Hidden Valley after dusk, but have been unable to identify them due to low visibility."

The black of night blanketed the Mojave in its bejeweled veil. A beautiful sight that was lost on Ashur as he stepped through an opening in a forlorn and rusted chain link fence into the howling face of sand blasting wind. Frustration spiked through him as he realized that his optic enhancers were only just able to cut through the interference. It was at times like these that Ashur was grateful for the environmental suit that the spectres wore during field operations as he crouched invisibly while the particles scoured the surface of his armor.

The commander had asked him to track down the patrol that had attacked Ramirez earlier that day. Whoever they were, they wore heavy power armor that made following their tracks child's play. It wasn't until he followed those tracks into this valley that he began to experience some difficulty.

He knew that the localized sandstorm was not a natural phenomenon. Even through the howling of the fierce wind and the chattering of the numerous scorpions that made this area their home could not drown out the high powered whine of turbo fans stirring the dust and air into a man-made maelstrom.

His instruments, linked to the Adjutant back at the command center, had analyzed the composition of the dust and found that it was laced with aluminum and various silicates, effectively making the dust a form of signal scattering chaff. Thankfully the camouflage system was built with the inferior detection capabilities of this world in mind, and did not completely hamper the wide-spectrum scanning capability of Terran equipment. Once the command center was upgraded, they could use the powerful scanning array to get an almost unfettered picture of this area.

Shalev's professionalism and devotion to the Raiders would not let him put anything less than his best effort at the task given to him by Captain Johnson, but he could not help but be anxious to return to his self-appointed role as guardian over the young woman, Jacky.

He had watched over her for several days and had noted that there was more potential in a future relationship than he had initially thought. From her thoughts he had gleaned images of a vault full of young people yoked to the tyranny of a despotic idealogy enforced by a mysterious figure known as the sandman.

A plan had formed in his mind to take the young psychic under his wing and to eventually train her as a ghost. Making her a spectre like him was not possible given the lack of terrazine and jorium, to say nothing of the complete absence of the facilities necessary to refine those materials. But ghost training required nothing more than the individual's inherent psychic ability and a devoted mentor.

Once that was complete, he could then test the new ghost with her first assignment, to liberate the other residents of her former home and bring them under the Terran's fold. The mutual benefit was obvious, the Terrans would receive a pool of young and intelligent personnel and the vault dwellers would gain freedom from their prison.

Ashur checked his chronometer, noting that it was early morning when anomalous readings appeared on his HUD. Four distinct heat signatures had popped into view and were leaving one of the bunkers heading north east in a patrol pattern. Scrolling though the various modes offered by his optic enhancers, he was able to achieve a visual on the figures. They appeared to wear some kind of metal full body armor. From the energy readings he was receiving, each of them was powered by a small fusion reactor.

He cataloged the readings and sent them in an encrypted data burst back to the commander, hoping that the scanning capability of his quarry would not be sufficient in intercepting or even detecting the transmission. He observed the patrol until they left his field of vision, noting that they did not seem to react in the slightest to indicate that they had indeed picked up the signal.

Ashur sighed deeply, breathing in a lungful of terrazine gas as he awaited the Captain's response. He dampened the sense of excitement he felt when the commander's voice came over the comm and ordered him to deploy sensor buoys in the area and then quit the valley. It meant that he could resume his guardianship over Jacky sooner than he had hoped and went to work deploying the devices immediately.

"We need to talk." Paul's voice was soft and solemn as he and Veronica travelled to Red Rock Canyon. It was easy to understand the commander's reticence at simply letting them go on their way after what had happened to his man, which made it harder to convince him of the necessity of their trip. The strained man finally acquiesced when Veronica had pleaded with him to let her meet with the Elder first, to soften their eventual confrontation and gather information.

The meeting went largely as she thought it would, the elder's exasperation with her not mitigated in the slightest by the circumstances. That he so readily accepted the potential loss of irreplaceable paladins was chilling to her. Didn't he realize that less than 200 people couldn't possibly continue in isolation? Her one consolation came from the Courier's softly spoken demand that Elder McNamara at least consider what they were telling him and to be open to a diplomatic tie with the Terrans. Her surprise was tangible and profound, the courier having had to gently tap her chin to make her realize her jaw hung open.

The quiet nod from the elder, both acceptance and a dismissal, was the closest to an agreement that she had ever achieved with the stubborn man. She was almost jubilant over it, enough to bury her worry for the time being and respond to Maxson's request with her typical playful flippancy.

"This better not be about the meaning of life." Veronica answered snidely.

"I have to ask you something, seriously."

"Ooo, do I get a prize if I answer right?" She quipped.

Veronica's small smile evaporated as she turned to face the courier and saw the grim expression on his face. Her anxiety over the situation worming its way back to the forefront.

"Sorry about that. Just because I love them doesn't mean some of them aren't assholes. I'm just trying to put the dots together you know? It's not hard for me to see one of them doing exactly as those Terran friends of yours described. I just don't want to believe that someone really pissed on a chance to make a friend that could really help us out and brought us on the brink of another war."

The words came out in a jumbled rush, as if they had been fighting to escape ever since they had gotten the news that a Brotherhood patrol had ambushed and nearly killed one of the Terrans.

"Besides, there is still the very slim chance that it wasn't us." Veronica stated, though she didn't sound convinced.

"Yeah, there are lots of people roaming about in power armor and laser weaponry." The coutier replied sardonically.

Veronica just shook her head, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she came to a halt and stared intently at her feet.

"It's one of the main reasons why I'm out foraging all the time. One too many arguments with the Elder, or anyone else that wasn't smart enough to turn and run as soon as I opened my mouth about it."

Veronica looked up at the courier with an almost pleading expression on her face, her lips stuck out in a pout that he would have called comically childish were it not for the seriousness of the circumstance.

"We're dying. I don't know how to make him, them, anyone see it. For some of us to go and do something like this… It's one thing to explore ruins or have stuff turned over from travelers who don't know what they have… but to resort to brute force against an unknown… it's tragic and it's almost sinfully stupid."

Paul pulled the young woman into a friendly hug, "Look, we'll find a diplomatic solution to this. Between the two of us, we'll make the Elder see reason. There may be a silver lining to this attack. Its proof that hiding away from the world may have been right after Helios One, but it definitely isn't now."

"If only you were a leggy brunette," Veronica sighed, "I can almost believe you could convince Caesar to give up the dam and go into the Snack cake business…. Hrmmm, snack cakes."

Paul laughed at her weak joke, though obviously fake, Veronica appreciated the pretense and allowed the slight brevity to lighten her mood.

"You never did say, where are we going?"

"Since we're fairly close, thought I'd pop in and see the Great Khans. Now that I've convinced Melissa Lewis that the Legion is no good, I'm hoping that I can sway Regis and Papa Khan to break ties with Caesar."

"To join up with House?"

"No... I've thought about it long and hard."

Veronica began giggling at that, the courier glancing at her with a look that spoke of his impatience with her lack of maturity. Which only made her laugh harder.

Once the scribe collected herself he continued, "I think the Khans should go their own way. Between the Legion, House and the NCR there really is no place for them. Maybe north?"

"I have to hand it to you, you give a lot of leeway for a tribe of glorified murderers."

"Granted, but they have a code. They may be brutal, and not ones to shy away from raider-like activities, but you can actually talk to them. They don't murder you on sight or try to rape you immediately. I think Bitter Springs, as tragic as that was, is a catalyst for them to evolve into something... better.

"Wow, how that's actually a pretty noble sentiment. You surprise me."

"Speaking of surprises, I think this way will make a good shortcut."

They ambled off the road, the Yangtze Memorial silently witness to their detour. If it could, it'd laugh at the grave mistake they were making.

"Hold it right there, young lady." The grizzled NCR trooper called out, as the rest of the patrol spread out in a semicircle along the highway.

Jacky paused mid-whistle, the jaunty tune dying in her throat at her surprise that the approaching NCR patrol would bother with her.

Nervousness colored her response as she replied, "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problems." The elder reassured her, smiling amiably. "We've gotten reports of increased legion activity and we have to randomly check travelers for legion spies."

Jacky breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled at the older man's explanation.

"Oh well, you had better watch out, big legion spy girl right here."

The NCR sergeant nodded at her sarcasm, it being fairly known that women were not treated as the equal of men and that it was very unlikely that she was a spy.

"That's enough lip, young lady." A much younger bespeckled man barked nasally.

The sergeant nodded deferentially to the younger, flashing a bemused expression at Jacky.

"Your pardon, Lieutenant, my fault for being too casual."

The 'lieutenant' puffed up at the NCOs apologetic demeanor, the insincerity of the sergeant's remark lost on the naïve young officer.

"Yes, sorry Lieutenant, just a little joke." Jacky replied, following the sergeant's example at playing meek in front of the pride of the NCR army.

"Just drop your kit and keep your hands where we can see them. We just need to do a quick search and you can be on your way."

Jacky did as the kindly man asked, dropping her pack at her feet and then backing a step or two away while holding up her hands.

The sergeant gestured at two of the patrol members to go through her things while he and the rest of the squad kept an eye on the courier.

"So, Ms…?"

"Jacqueline Summers."

"Ms. Summers, what brings you out here this evening?"

"I'm a courier with the Mojave Express, just signed on, and I'm taking this package to Novac."

The lieutenant regarded her sharply at that and pushed his glasses up further before gifting them all with his grating voice, "Novac? We got a report that there had been a murder up that way. Poor woman had her head blown clean off. You wouldn't know anything about that now would you?"

"No sir, I've never even been to Novac before. I'm just following the map Mr. Nash drew for me."

The lieutenant looked unconvinced and tried to intimidate her by fixing her with his hardest glare. If it weren't for the heavily armed patrol that he was in charge of, it would have been a laughable attempt.

"Um, Sir?" One of the NCR troopers, a woman not much older than Jacky, interrupted the officer's blustering.

"Yes Private what is it?" he snapped, not taking his eyes off Jacky.

"Courier marked parcel here, we were just taking a peek inside, well… take a look."

The lieutenant sighed audibly as he gestured imperiously for the private to hand him the package.

He glanced down at it, almost annoyed and nearly handed it back when his eyes snapped back down at the package with a speed that would've given anyone whiplash.

"Sergeant, restrain this woman immediately."

"Sir?"

The young man waved the package under the sergeant's nose half in a gesture of exasperation and half excitedly, like a proud puppy bringing a spit covered ball to his master.

The sergeant took the package from the frantically excited officer and looked at its contents. His expression fell and after a moment looked up at Jacky with a hardened expression that frightened her.

"Take the young woman into custody." The sergeant repeated the officer's earlier order.

"Wait, what? Why?" Jacky spluttered, confusion writ plain upon her face.

The lieutenant snatched the package from the NCOs hand and ripped free a sheaf of paper from the incompletely opened box. He sprang forward and shoved it in Jacky's face.

"Care to explain this!" He shrieked.

Jacky had to lean back away from the fluttering page and focused on the writing. Her face paled as she saw the bull symbol of the legion boldly emblazoned in wax. Looking further, her heart seemed to stop in her chest as she realized that the missive was meant for some woman in Novac. Though written in the odd way that the legion spoke, it was clear that they were acting on some kind of previous arrangement with the lady to sell another female into slavery.

Jacky blood ran cold and protests died in her throat as the NCR troopers disarmed her and secured her arms behind her back. Someone shoved her roughly forward before she rediscovered the power of speech and tried to find the words to convince the patrol of her innocence.

The demeanor of the patrol had profoundly changed from one of slightly bored nonchalance to a deadly serious ambience of readiness. The lieutenant could barely contain his glee at the capture of the 'Legion spy' and veritably capered as he bragged on and on to the sergeant.

The older man made polite noises to his CO and would occasionally glance back at Jacky, his face hard and unyielding but his eyes betraying his reluctance to pin the appellation of spy on her.

The initial panic and shock at being indicted so thoroughly on a package that she hadn't even known the contents of eventually wore off and she wracked her mind to explain the turn of events. She couldn't imagine the kindly old Mr. Nash working with the Legion. In fact, he explained to her that as a matter of policy, couriers did not question the contents of the packages they carried. Apparently, someone forgot to tell this NCR patrol that.

Her boots scuffed up dirt as she was prodded by the patrol, the company slowly but inexorably making its way to Camp McCarran just outside New Vegas.

A/N: I apologize that this chapter is a bit short. Certainly shorter than I would have liked and it didn't even include everything from my outline. Next update should be a bit longer since I will have to include in Chapter 10 what I originally intended for Chapter 9. Please let me know in the reviews if there are any specific characters you would like to see more of or would like to make an appearance in the story.