"So, is there a song we sing now?"

From my position sitting against the wall, my eyes closed, I could hear Asher. "What?"

Preston shrugged, I swear I could feel it in his voice, "I've never gassed anyone before. I don't know what the proper procedure is." He stressed the word procedure, a jab my way for insisting on radio procedure. "I assumed there was something we're supposed to be doing right now."

I didn't open my eyes, "There is a song actually." Opening one eye, I saw Preston and Asher both looking at me like I'd grown a second head. My voice stayed as deadpan as it had been, "But you have to be security level seven to learn it."

"You're joking." Preston paused, "You are joking right?"

I fought off a smirk and opened my other eye. I brought my pipboy up to check the timer I'd set. Five minutes to go. I picked up my goggles and respirator and strapped them on. If there was one thing that I didn't like about this suit, it was the number of complicated straps you had to work to get the damn mask on properly. I'd already shifted it to tank mode, which directed the nanoweave into a self-regenerating hard plate armor capable of shifting tensile strength with kinetic impacts. "Five minutes people, masks on, the gas should be dissipated by the time we go in, but no reason to take chances."

Mikhail nodded, pulling on his own mask, he'd switched his sniper rifle for his assault rifle. "Goris, you and Sturges will be able to deal with any possible reinforcements, da?"

Goris had removed his cloak, upon the revelation of his true nature, Mikhail and I had been forced to seize Preston and Asher's weapons until they had come to grips with it. Asher had taken it better than Preston, something to be said there about the adaptability of young minds. In the end, they'd both settled with it and had their weapons returned. "You have seen my kind in combat before Mister Volkov, you know the answer to your question."

Boy was that the truth, I turned to Preston and Asher, "You guys sure you want to do this, we don't need you down there." I paused and focused in on Asher, "The after effects of the gas… it won't be pretty."

Preston brushed aside my warning, "Well if we're going to do things your way, then I've got to see it for myself." He gave his musket a crank, far less effective than the cocking of a gun in my opinion, and headed for the bunker.

I looked at Asher, "You know you don't have to do this."

For a second, Asher was that same scared kid I'd comforted in my living room and I thought he'd accept my offer. Then he took a deep breath and locked it down. "No, I need to." He offered me a weak smile. "This is my new life right?"

I returned the smile, or I tried at least. It took me a second to remember my expression was hidden behind my mask. Still, I laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, come on, mask up, let's get this done."

We joined Mikhail and Preston, stacked up on the door. Mikhail took the lead position while the three of us splayed out behind him, ready to open fire if something had gone wrong and there were a dozen pissed off raiders hidden behind the door. After a perfunctory check to make sure everyone's masks were secure, the burly Russian gave a three count hand signal, on three, he pulled the device off the door frame and slowly pulled it open.

Three raiders immediately came out of the door.

But they weren't angry, or at least, they weren't any more. They were dead, and there were at least a half dozen more piled up on the steps behind them. The front three were a brutal reminder of the effects of Lima Victor. Their faces were coated in blood, as were their hands, from their damaged fingers, it appeared these three had died clawing at the door, desperate to escape.

The stair case behind them was a mess of contorted limbs and blood. The seizures had twisted the corpses to the point that many were intertwined, and it was difficult to tell where one ended and another began. All the corpses were bloody, and the blood had splattered and spread to the point that it appeared someone was halfway done painting the stairwell crimson.

"Dear god…" Preston stumbled back a step, clutching his musket like a safety blanket.

Asher stood fast, but I could see his eyes wide behind his mask, his breathing began to speed up. I stepped next to him and put my hand on the small of his back. "Slow down," I whispered, "breathe on a four count, focus on the objective, not the background."

Mikhail and I had seen this all before. It was still a gruesome sight, but unfortunately, we can both say that we've seen worse. Mikhail kicked the corpses aside, clearing a path down the stairs as he went. To my surprise, and pride, Asher was on his heels. I threw Preston a look and made after them. The Minuteman came last, perhaps unwilling to let his pride be scratched yet again.

At the bottom of the stairs Mikhail held up a hand, stop. He dropped to a knee, examining something, then looked up. "Laser tripwire, they must have forgotten about it when they were trying to escape."

He motioned to move forward and disappeared into the lobby of the listening post, followed by Asher and the rest of us. As I passed, I saw what Mikhail was talking about. Someone had jury rigged a couple of microfusion cells and piece of a transformer to make a trap. A cunning little piece of work, but all it had done is add a few burns to the dying as they'd attempted their escape.

The lobby was little better, one of the wiser raiders sat against a far wall, his brains painting the wall behind him, a ten millimeter pistol in his hand. Another had apparently clawed his eyes out as he died. Yet another had performed a kind of amateur seppuku before the seizures set in, most likely one of the latter ones the gas had hit, attempting to avoid the fate of his friends. He'd botched the job though and had only managed to spread his innards around the floor once his nervous system betrayed him.

I could go on, but the gist of it is there. It's amazing how many unique positions and ways to die that men can find in fifteen minutes. I've seen sights just like this well over twenty or thirty times, and each time there are a few truly unique examples.

In the old days, before the war, many considered nuclear weapons to be the worst weapon ever developed by mankind. Myself and anyone who'd seen chemical weapons in action would disagree with this. Nukes are the most destructive, but nothing can compare in terms of actual suffering to that caused by chemical warfare.

The intel room was thankfully clear of corpses, though it was also clear of intel. All of the documents had been used either as kindling or for other less mentionable reasons. A bit of a shame, but if the databases were functional, not a problem. The upside was that the Raiders had stored their loot there, more ammo, a few more guns, we were developing quite a stockpile at this point. Not to mention, they had one of those old covert operations training manuals, Tiptoe through the Tulips. Walter always did have a sense of humor to him.

Following procedure, we would sweep the place floor by floor, and room by room. It seemed like the gas had hit the large central chamber first, explained why there were so many suicides. The gas would have taken time to spread, given them time to notice, to try and escape, one way or the other. Those that chose the other were the only ones to achieve any success.

The lobby split off at a T, separating into two hallways. I signaled right to Mikhail, who nodded. "Preston your with Mikhail. Asher, stick with me."

Preston grunted a response, but followed Mikhail. Asher kept two steps behind me. "So," Asher asked, his voice low, "How important is the stuff down here? That's why we really had to gas them right, so the tech doesn't get broken."

"Clever boy," I scanned a bathroom, empty. "Before the war, we had a couple of dozen contingencies to help rebuild if shit went all to hell. If even a few are still functional, we get a big advantage. If a few specific contingencies are still functional, then anyone who stands against us will be dust before they can bring their arms to bear."

I could almost hear his eyebrows going up. "That powerful huh?"

The image of the ruins of Pyongyang after orbital bombardment flashed in my head. "Yeah, that powerful."

We stepped out on the catwalk, there was another corpse hanging on the railing. "And if none of them work?"

Considering all the options, good. "Assuming none of them work, then we still have the satellite network for support."

There were surprisingly few bodies in this room, the majority had been trying to escape. "You mentioned that before, what do you mean by that?"

I had to think for a moment on that, how do you explain satellite support to someone who didn't understand how satellites worked. The specific workings could be explained later, "Basically, once we get the network online, we can get a bird's eye view of anything we want, and just as importantly, we can communicate with anyone who has the proper hardware."

The catwalk was clear, we began moving down the ramp to clear the central chamber and link up with the others. "So basically, if Jared sends a bunch of guys after us, if we have these satellites, we'll know about it the second they leave."

I held up a hand, one of the corpses at the bottom of the ramp was still shaking. I drove my sword through his back and twisted, then he went still. With a flick of the wrist, I cleared the blood of my blade. "And send someone to ambush them, yes, that's the idea."

There was less of a pause than I expected before Asher spoke again. Good, he was assimilating. "Sounds useful."

There was the telltale sound of a laser blast. Preston was putting another target out of their misery. "Very," Mikhail and Preston came in through the opposite side of the room, "Our side's clear, you?"

"Da, everything but the maintenance area. The door is locked." Note to self, make Mikhail practice lockpicking. The internal doors here weren't that tough.

Still, the maintenance area wasn't that large and it had multiple air vents to deal with the fumes from the soldering irons. That area had probably gotten a more intense dose of Lima Victor than anywhere else, "We can clear it later, cover me while I get to work on the terminal."

The guys fanned out behind me while I pulled the seat up to the desk and got to work.

Authorization Code: MAYINDIANOVEMBERGOLF ECHOTANGOECHOROMEONOVEMBERALPHALIMA

Yes, it's long, and yes, it's sappy, deal with it.

Authorization Code: ACCEPTED

Welcome: Whisper

Clearance Level: BLACK-10

Command Authority: GRANTED UNDER ORDER MX-CN91

"What is all that?" Asher was leaning over my shoulder.

"Whisper is my old callsign, Black-10 refers to my security clearance, I'm one of ten people cleared for any and all programs under ISA purview, which is essentially all of them." Technically, just telling him that was high treason, but that didn't worry me, the inspector-general wasn't cleared to know who held Black-10 clearance. And he's most likely been dead for two hundred and ten years, so there was that.

"And the last bit?"

"MX-CN91 is the final emergency response plan implemented in the event of a full nuclear exchange with an expectation of a full decapitation strike and a complete collapse of the majority of global infrastructure. The important thing right now is that it grants command authority to those with Black-10 clearance, meaning I have authority over all remaining government systems." Which probably didn't amount to much.

"Hey," Preston cast us an irritated look, "Can you guys geek out over the old-world bullshit later and just get the job done."

"You need to start enjoying your work man," Asher said.

Preston grunted, I held back a snort. I knew I liked this kid for a reason.

USAF SATELLITE STATION OLIVIA

Satellite Status: Safe Mode

Data Stream Status: Safe Mode

Database Status: Safe Mode

ISA Network Status: Safe Mode

Protocol 17 currently in place

Under Protocol 17, any and all military and government systems are to be locked in safe mode until unlocked by official with the appropriate clearance. For information regarding appropriate clearance, please consult your direct superior

Black-10 Authority Recognized: Unlock Protocol 17

Y/N?

"Jackpot," I muttered as I tapped the key.

Y

That's when the shooting started. I felt something strike me from behind.

And then I felt the blood.

…

Yes, cliffhanger this week. I'm somewhat evil like that.

The contingencies are in part going to be my way for explaining certain aspects that aren't in-game, mods, creative changes, that sort of thing. And some things that are in game, they just don't make much sense. And of course, so that I can make it a bit closer to our world, as satellite support is absolutely crucial in modern special operations.

Oh yeah, and before anyone points out that satellites aren't likely to still be functional after two hundred years of no maintenance or use, looking at you Justin my space geek friend, I point out the Archimedes system from NV, Bradley-Hercules and Highwater-Trousers from FO3, and the B.O.M.B. stations from the cancelled van buren game. Apparently, the pre-war fallout nations knew how to build a hell of a satellite.

BTW, I'm pretty busy with my transfer, so I'll probably only manage one chapter a week for a while.

R&R people.