Chapter 21

"We have confirmed reports of tunnelers in the NCR," Sentinel Storm explained to the Council of Elders. "Our scribes will work with scientists from the NCR and the Divide to learn more about them. In the meantime, I strongly suggest we install floodlights in major settlements as well as alarm systems. And it wouldn't hurt to increase patrols."

"Maybe the Think Tank can help?" High Elder Maxson suggested.

"The the been more trouble than they've been helpful lately. I do think there's tech in Big MT that can help us though. So, once again, I suggest we supplement our soldiers with Roboscorpions."

"It's a good idea," one Elder interjected. "But we need our soldiers to be the face of our military. We'll look like cowards if our main fighting force is robots."

"I'm sorry," Leo condescended. "I didn't realize the Empire of Steel really cared so much about what other people thought of it. Are you children? You'd risk the lives of our people because you're worried what people will think of us."

"Enough," Maxson interrupted. "I want those scorpion things active by tomorrow."

Meetings often ended like this: with Maxson making his will known and everyone accepting it.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can get a meal?" The Great Khan asked. Liam had never been to Vegas before, given that he had only joined the Khans a year ago. He and three fellow Khans had been sent south to forge an alliance with El Cerrito Commonwealth. They had reached Vegas by way of Utah, cutting through Zion Valley. The tribals of Zion were allies to the Great Khans, and had been given protection in exchange for safe passage through the area for Khans. Aside from that, the Khans had taken a Legion-esque approach with other tribals, integrating them and breaking down tribal identities. For former Legion slaves, this was a good thing. For groups like the 80s, not so much.

"Yeah," the pedestrian replied. "The Atomic Wrangler down the street."

"Thanks," he said as he walked down the street, his crew in tow.

They found the Wrangler, a dingy building on the outside, but on the inside, a lively casino and bar. "What can I get you fellows?" the bartender asked.

"Anything with Brahmin in it," Liam replied, plopping down a bag on bottle caps on the counter.

As the group ate, they discussed their mission. "So how are we supposed to talk to these tribes? They probably don't speak English."

"According to the rumors, they speak a variety of creole languages. If the information Regis gathered is accurate, the tribes went to war with each other over who speaks the proper language. The languages are combinations of others. Apparently they're English, Spanish, French, Chinese, and Native American languages. The most common language in El Cerrito is pure Spanish, so we need to get a Spanish speaker."

"And how do we find one?"

"Like this," Liam said as he stood up. He addressed the people eating in the Wrangler, "Does anyone here speak Spanish, and want an opportunity to make some caps as a translator?"

At first nobody stood up. Then, an old ghoul in a Petro Chico jumpsuit stood up. "I speak Spanish. What's the job?"

The preparations were made across the Empire and NCR. Floodlights were erected. Flashbangs and flare guns were put in the hands of every man and woman. Scientists from across the Southwest were trying to find a long term solution to the problem.

The solution, however, did not come from a scientist or a laboratory, but from a deceased Boomer. Leo remembered the tool Loyal had used to kill a group of Giant Ants. It was a ham radio reconfigured to emit a high frequency sound capable of killing the Giant Ants. Leo suspected that the Tunnelers might share this weakness.

Confirmed by biopsy reports, the Tunnelers had extremely sensitive hearing. The sense had been overdeveloped so accomadate living in the dark. Tests would be performed to find the frequency that would kill the Tunnelers. But until tests were complete, they would need to fight with more conventional weapons.

"Three towns, gone overnight," President Hanlon muttered as he poured himself a drink. His office was occupied by several military officers, ambassadors, and political officials. "How do we stop these things?"

"We aren't quite sure how we can fight them in any permanent way, but we can get defenses up," Scribe Watkins explained. "Flood lights, flashbangs, incendiary weapons, et cetera. These things are weak against light and noise. That's how we defend against them."

"And," the ambassador from the Divide included. "We have researchers investigating the possibility that high frequency emissions can be lethal to them."

"How can we help with the research?" Hanlon asked.

"The best contribution you can offer," Watkins replied, "Is radio equipment. That's what our research is targeting."

"Hsu, I want every available radio, telephone, and walkie talkie that we don't need to be given to the researchers in the Empire."

"Yessir."

"Everyone, out. There's work to be done. Hsu, stay. We have more to discuss," Hanlon ordered. As soon as everyone left the room, they continued. "What's going on with the Khans?"

"We're weeks away from sharing our northeastern border with them. They're seeking an alliance with El Cerrito to battle the Legion remnants. This is a recipe for another war."

"When our borders meet with each of them, I want ambassadors sent to each of them. We aren't going to war, at least not until the Tunnelers are dealt with."

"Yessir," Hsu said with a salute before leaving the office.

Hanlon intended to be remembered as a president of prosperity. He was already given credit for saving the economy for collapse and ending the pointless wars that killed hundreds of soldiers a year. He successfully turned NCR to a service economy reminiscent of pre-war America while the fringes of the nation maintained a frontier lifestyle. If a war with the Khans or El Cerrito broke out, all his effort would have been in vain. He wasn't going to let that happen.