AN: I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Spartan-B124, interior of McCarran International Airport. 0705 Hours, September 25, 2552 (Military Calendar)

It felt good to be back on solid ground with real gravity keeping him down and real air to breathe, not artificial replications. Scott hated being stuck on ships where he was little more than cargo, unable to do anything against the enemy in a battle unless they boarded the ship, and it was a sentiment shared amongst most of the Marines and ODSTs he had met.

Things in the Mojave were still calm with no impending sign that the bulk of the NCR Army or the Legion were coming their way, but reports coming in from Hoover Dam and the Mojave Outpost suggested advance scouts were already getting into place.

Alpha Company had deployed four of its recon drones to circle overhead and keep watch on the land below, the operators spotting anomalous heat spots in the rocks to the Dam's west and in the ruins of the Legion's old camp which photo reconnaissance showed to be clusters of people in groups of three or four, lightly armed but heavily laden down with supplies, observing the UNSC's position.

Captain Miles had dispatched some of her fireteams to observe the observers with orders to make sure they were heard, tasking a spare UAV to follow the observers as they fell back to what, hopefully, was their base of operations in the region. As a result, she was able to pass on to Scott they were using an old bunker located south of an old NCR camp built around a spring, Forlorn Hope, and he authorised her to leave the drone on station to alert them when the NCR scouts came and went.

Sergeant Rimmer at the Mojave Outpost had noted in several of his daily reports that every fourth or fifth person coming into the Mojave bore the look of a veteran soldier, walking with purpose and confidence and held themselves in a way that suggested years of experience. One of the mercenaries working for House, a former member of the NCR's special forces group, said they were most likely the Rangers Captain Miles had seen. Some creative thinking and an offer of low price water had seen the vast majority of these men and women unknowingly ingest an organic tracker, allowing the UNSC to track their movements across the desert.

Some went to the bunker near Hoover Dam, some went to the ruined complex Scott and his team had first observed upon entering the region, some went to a shack built into the cliffs north of there and some went to an old Vault Heyman had cleared of escaped convicts. After a few days to rest and recuperate, these forces would begin drifting all over the Mojave Wasteland's main routes and even some ancillary ones, plus locations in and around Nipton where Lieutenant Faust was garrisoned.

He responded by having one platoon patrol the boundaries of town at all times and sweep over every location the Rangers used to overlook his company from, relying on a sole drone to see what his forces couldn't.

Scott knew this was the best they could do without aggressively pursuing these forces in keeping with House's stipulations to act in self defence only, even though the NCR was blatantly positioning guerrilla forces into places of vital importance ahead of an all out assault. He would have liked to lead an assault on all the places being used as safe houses, capture or eliminate the Rangers contained within, and detain everyone Rimmer suspected of being NCR Army entering the Mojave on clandestine motives.

He couldn't because that would likely lead to the NCR launching their assault early, at least according to House, who seemed to know what was best when it came to military matters. The Rangers were gathering and transmitting up to date intelligence on the UNSC, undermining their position, and were getting themselves into place to strike deep behind their lines. The UNSC's best option right now was to strike at these groups before they could become a threat and let the NCR know they couldn't operate in the Mojave without its new defenders knowing.

But because House was more interested in keeping the money flowing in, at least in Scott's opinion, the Marines were stuck in a reactive posture and could do nothing more than track and observe their quarry.

Scott shook his head at this as he picked his battle rifle up and clamped it onto his back, walking out into the airport's main yard where rows upon rows of UNSC war machines were lined up, poised and ready for action. Their armour glinted dully in the early morning sun, every one of them fuelled up with their ammo stocks replenished after extracting Alpha Squad and himself.

What might the NCR have in its possession that could damage or destroy just one of the Scorpion tanks? Each could survive a direct hit from an M41 rocket launcher and fight on, albeit with heavy damage, so how would it stack up against the local equivalent? Based on everything Scott had seen so far, he doubted the NCR could very easily take down one of the armoured behemoths when even the Covenant feared them, possibly requiring them to use a Fat Man launcher but with the limited range on them, and the fact each tank would operate in conjunction with at a fireteam of Marines, minimum, the operator would have to be very quick, very skilled, very lucky, or all three, to get a round off before being cut down.

It was the same with the Hornets, each of them fast and nimble and able to engage the enemy from a long way off, well outside the maximum effective range of the NCR Army's service rifle. A Ranger with an anti-materiel rifle might have better luck but the armour on the VTOL aircraft was tough enough to shrug off several rounds from the powerful AA gun mounted on the back of Warthogs, and any shooter would have to ensure their target remained stationary when they fired, not something the pilots would do once they knew sniper fire was coming their way.

Scott looked at the Pelicans and knew everything about the Hornets went double for the dropships, minimum.

He began wandering through the vehicles, taking note of every patch of scuffed paint or scoring from plasma weaponry or dent from debris they bore, scars of their own from past battles, idly noting the discomfort his own injuries were projecting despite their recent medical attention. His ribs and leg still throbbed despite the bone knitting polymer Anna Farnsworth had applied, Tara upping the hydrostatic pressure around his leg to form an ad hoc splint until it was fully healed.

The polymer wouldn't heal his leg instantly but it would speed the process up and it meant he was combat ready quicker than if the fractures were allowed to heal of their own accord.

'Everything seems okay, Commander,' Tara said in Scott's ear as he ran a hand over a patch in one Pelican's hull, a graft put into place to replace where an overcharged plasma bolt had melted the titanium to superheated vapour. 'The repairs are holding up quite nicely. Oh, and the ones done to your suit are operating within acceptable parameters, too.'

Scott rolled his eyes in exasperation and shook his head at Tara's joke, moving onto a Scorpion main battle tank, the sixty-six ton monster looking threatening even when it was inert.

'Have you picked up any non-standard radio transmissions?' he asked.

'Several,' Tara said. 'All originating from the locations marked by Captain Miles and Sergeant Rimmer, and they were heavily encrypted.'

'You haven't been able to listen in?' Scott asked.

'I said were, not are,' Tara shot back. 'It took me a second to break through.'

Scott smiled faintly and said, 'Nice to know the impact didn't knock anything loose.'

'Please, your skull's too thick for that.'

He smirked again as Tara went on to describe the broad subject of the Ranger's communications back home, most of them detailing the UNSC's positions within the Mojave how they operated, including misgivings about the presence of vehicles with their big guns and the extent of the UNSC's aircraft, theorising that they'd pose the biggest threat.

'I figured as much,' Scott said when she was done. 'Every foe they've faced so far has been foot mobile with the main exception being the Enclave, and their Vertibirds were more geared around troop transport, not air support or supremacy.'

There was always the possibility the NCR had secured some pre-war AA defence vehicle and gotten it operational, and he made a note to task Staff Sergeant Adams with scouting any NCR Army vehicle depots to see what was there.

'Any communications from the Legion?' he asked.

'Negative,' Tara said. 'Either the Legion has discarded radios fully or is waiting to use them. We're tracking a group of ten in the ruins of their old camp presently, all high ranking members based on their armour appearance, watching the Dam via binoculars.

'Do you think they're worried about what they see?'

'Doubtful. The Legion's commander is a warrior, so the tougher the challenge the more he's willing to tackle it. What message would that send if he can overcome our defences? No, he's likely to attack anyway and our plan will remain the same. Massed fire from everything we can bring to bear on them for as long as we can, then fall back to Vegas once supplies run low.'

'Talking to yourself, huh?' a voice from behind Scott said. 'That's one of the signs of going crazy, you know.'

Scott turned to see Hullum approaching, assault rifle slung over one shoulder and a sack slung over the other, the shapes of a rifle and pistol just visible through the roughly hewn material, his winnings from Heyman he was going to destroy right in front of the Courier.

'And collecting thirty bottles of a rare pre-war soda isn't?' Scott said back.

Hullum gave him a demented smile as he dumped the sack on the floor. He was staying at the airport when he wasn't out exploring the Mojave's sights, claiming one of the bunks left behind by the NCR for himself. The top bunk held all of his extra equipment and supplies he'd acquired whilst out and about, including the caps Heyman had put forward in the bet. He was in and out at all hours of the day and one of two non-UNSC persons allowed to waltz in and out of the base, and the only one who could walk around without an escort.

The other person was Heyman and Scott didn't like or trust him enough to wander through McCarran unaccompanied, leading to a fireteam of Marines shadowing him everywhere with orders to subdue him should he do anything untoward against the UNSC.

'So what were you and Tara chatting about?' Hullum asked as he perched himself on the tread pod of the Scorpion Scott was stood next to, sticking a lit cigarette into his mouth.

'The Legion and the NCR observing us,' Scott said. 'We've got a sizeable number of Rangers operating in the region but Mr House wants us in a non-confrontational posture, meaning I can't do anything about them except keep tabs on their movements. All the Legion is doing is watching us from their old encampment.'

'Sucks to be you, then,' Hullum said. 'Me, I don't remember being told about how I can't go after these guys because of affecting tourism or whatever, and it's not like I'll know that everyone I see with a gun isn't hostile. Shoot first, ask questions never. That's my modus operandi in new lands.'

He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and jerked his head towards the desert outside the base, Scott quickly grasping what he meant but shook his head at the offer.

'I'll redirect Alpha and Bravo Squads to hunt them down when the NCR makes its move,' he said. 'We've got eyes on their primary bases of operation and trackers on most of the Rangers, and enough Pelicans to get them where they're needed.'

Hullum nodded as his face took a turn for the serious, saying, 'I heard Alpha got jumped out in Legion territory and lost guys. You sure they're okay to get deployed after that?'

'Yes,' Scott said. 'I'm keeping them on the Heavy for the moment while they deal with the loss of Chang but before long they'll be itching to get back into the fight, either going back behind Legion lines or supplementing Rimmer and Kochansky at the Mojave Outpost. ODSTs are as tough as they come and Gunny Mitchell's squad is no exception.'

'If you're sure, Commander,' Hullum said.

The Spartan nodded and looked down at the bag by Hullum's feet, asking, 'Are you really going to destroy them right in front of him?'

'Hell yeah,' Hullum said with a grin. 'They're some of his most prized possessions and he said I could choose whatever I wanted from his armoury. You should have seen the look on his face when I picked them out. It was like I'd just stolen his kid or something.'

'And you're not going to take them back to DC?'

'Nah, they don't have anything like them back home so keeping them in running order is gonna be a bitch, plus only the rifle fires a common round.' His grin increased. 'Besides, it'll be more fun to watch his face when I destroy them.'

'How are you planning on doing that?' Scott asked.

'Thermite, maybe,' Hullum said. 'Or some C4. The local gun shop sells a few bricks of the stuff.'

Scott shook his head upon hearing this, that plastic explosives could be bought by anyone and anything with no restrictions other than handing over a few hundred bottle caps. Truly this place was an anarchic wasteland where people were kept in check only by their own morality and what few groups littered the place to stop them.

He'd be glad to be rid of the place sooner rather than later, shaking his head again at the lawlessness of the wastes.

'So other than destroying another man's children before him, what plans do you have for the day?' Scott asked.

Hullum shrugged. 'A bit of exploring, mainly, see what secrets the local Vaults hold though I'll have to avoid the one being used by the NCR, won't I?'

'Have you ever thought about going back to the one you grew up in?'

'Don't need to,' Hullum said. 'I've already been home.'

His demeanour grew more downbeat at the mention of Vault 101 and all the memories he had of the place, in particular those of Amata, and Scott guessed the reunion hadn't gone too well if he was living on the outside and the mere mention of the bunker diminished his spirits.

'What happened?' Scott asked.

'Bad stuff,' Hullum said. 'It was just after the Enclave took over Project Purity and I was still coming to grips with the fact dad was gone, you know, in the best way possible. For a couple of days everything was just a drunken blur, snippets of being in Moriarty's and overpaying for booze, or just sitting at home with scotch in one hand and whiskey in the other, staring at nothing as Wadsworth cleaned up around me.

'It was a while before I registered he was talking to me about some radio transmission coming from 101, Amata asking for help in dealing with her power crazed dad. So, half drunk and full worried, I grabbed the nearest weapon and headed over there right away.'

He launched into his tale in fits and starts, talking in the same low and melancholic tone as he outlined his initial return to the Vault, encountering a friendly security officer who barely recognised the man beneath the grime and combat armour, and then heading through his old home to meet up with Amata, leader of the rebels who wished to open Vault 101 up to outside trade which went against her father's wishes of maintaining what he saw was the last bastion of pure humanity.

The rebels wanted him to deal with the Overseer, the Overseer want him to deal with the rebels, and a whole lot of people just wanted him to leave and never come back, while Hullum himself just wanted to spend time with Amata and decompress after months out in the wastes and come to terms with the events that had transpired at Project Purity.

'I spent maybe three hours with her,' he said. 'Just sitting in the cafeteria together, me talking and her listening, going over every single thing I'd seen and done since stepping out of the Vault and when I finished and lapsed into silence, she just took my hand and gave it a squeeze, like everything was going to be okay.'

It wasn't, and the moment Amata learned her father was stepping down from his position after realising the error of his ways she told Hullum he needed to leave, right there and then, with the added threat he may never be able to come back ever again. Many people in Vault 101 felt he was the root cause of all its recent problems and him staying there would only rile them up, something Amata needed to keep from happening now she held the title of Overseer.

Hullum recounted how her eyes held this mixture of sadness and self loathing at giving the order that she, personally, wished to be telling him anything but that while, because of her new responsibilities, she had no choice and was doing it to keep her people safe from threats, both internal and external.

'I hated her for it,' Hullum said after a long bout of silence, an unlit cigarette in his hand. 'I still do on some level, I guess. She was my best friend growing up and the only person I ever felt close to, inside and outside the Vault.'

'So why do you still carry her gun around?' Scott asked.

'Because I hate Amata the Overseer,' Hullum said. 'Not Amata the Friend, and I know which one risked their own life to save mine and I know which one's gonna be waiting for me on the other side of that door when it finally opens up.'

He pulled out the gun in question and looked down at it, at the battered and abused body and at the grip a rough capital A had been carved into, and at the value it meant to him in ways money and supplies and fame could never hope to match. Scott guessed nothing short of dying would cause Hullum to part with it.

'I lied when I said I don't name my weapons,' Hullum said. 'They're all nameless to me except this one.' He looked up at Scott. 'If I happen to buy it while we're still working together, Commander, do me a favour and get this back to her. Okay? She'd deserve to know.'

It took Scott a moment to understand what Hullum was asking him to do and another moment to understand how big of a deal this was for him. Nothing else Hullum owned or had come across in the Capital Wasteland came close to matching the pistol in his hands, held enough value for him to risk his life over, yet here he was asking someone he'd know for less than a month to convey it as a proof of death to his childhood best friend, and the enormity only grew when Scott realised he'd been privy to a facet of the Lone Wanderer few others ever saw.

Hullum carried a heavy burden on his back as the Capital Wasteland's saviour and this meant he had seen every single ugly side of the area and those who lived there without adding his own misery to the pile. Raised in a Vault governed by laws only to be thrust into a world without them, scouring a blasted hellhole in search of his father only to lose him again, permanently, and to be kicked out of his own home by Amata after helping her secure its future.

A lesser person might have cracked long ago, or discarded their morals and became as ruthless as the raiders who roamed the wastelands, and while Hullum seemed to be a long way off becoming either of those he still had his danger signs. He drank more than anyone else Scott had seen during his time in the wastes which was saying something, considering bottles of alcohol were everywhere, and alcoholism could be caused by significant trauma and stress which Hullum was certainly no stranger to.

And it was in those rare moments too when it was just Hullum and Scott alone where his defences fell away, or a large enough chink was exposed, to let who he was underneath the hardened wasteland wanderer facade see the light of day, and Scott saw a guy who was struggling to keep it together in a world where any display of weakness could lead to your demise.

The fact Scott had seen this side of Hullum more than once and was being asked to deliver a precious treasure of his to someone he cared for made it plain just how much faith and trust Hullum placed in him.

He nodded and said, 'I will.'

Then he added, 'Beth.'

'What?' Hullum said.

'I'd call my rifle Beth if I had to give it a name,' Scott said. 'She was my mother.'

Hullum went 'oh' as he holstered his pistol and lit his cigarette, quickly grasping the ramifications of what being told this information meant. Scott trusted Hullum back, or as far as he could trust a non-Spartan he'd known for all of a month, and he saw similarities in the Lone Wanderer he saw in himself, both of them motivated by revenge to get the job done and both of them carrying invisible scars courtesy of their respective circumstances.

They lapsed into another silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, getting jolted back to awareness by Tara as she warned of Heyman's encroaching arrival.

'Picking up his Pip-Boy,' she said. 'I wonder what crazy scheme he has planned this time.'

'Nothing good, I'm sure,' Hullum muttered, the disdain for Heyman in his eyes as the facade he'd woven slipped back into place, going from the struggling Vault Dweller to the hard as nails Lone Wanderer. 'Though I'm sure I can pick something else out of his armoury to smash.'

Scott shook his head and just turned his gaze to the gate where Heyman would appear, a fireteam of Marines alerted by Tara to their guest already loitering nearby as the metal sheeting slid upward to reveal the Mojave's defender of freedom, the Courier, in all his narcissistic glory.

He was wearing the same duster over light armour that he'd worn on the day of the challenge, plus the beret, but the splint over what remained of his nose made it too uncomfortable to wear glasses of any kind and his only weapon was a revolver strapped to his thigh. Heyman paused by the gate as he scanned for the Spartan then hesitated when they locked eyes, Scott's arms folded across his chest in contempt, but began walking over anyway.

'What?' Scott said when he came closer.

'Mr House needs your help,' Heyman said.

'Evidently,' Hullum said. 'If he didn't need it, we wouldn't be looking after your home.'

Heyman stiffened at that but pressed on, saying, 'Mr House is looking to create a militia from the people of Freeside and he wants the UNSC to train them.'

'Why us?'Scott asked. 'I'm sure he's got plenty of deserters from both sides who he can call upon. Besides, if he really wanted to keep this place safe, why didn't he start raising one the moment he knew the NCR and the Legion were coming back for round two?'

This earned the Spartan a glare from Heyman.

'Mr House is good,' he said. 'But he's not infallible. He just wants some extra protection for when the time comes to defend the city, and while he does have a number of former NCR and Legion veterans he knows your troops far outclass them. Under their tutelage he's sure they can become great.'

'They're also all deployed in the defence of the Mojave,' Scott said. 'And I'm not taking my troops off the line to train others when we're on the verge of combat.'

'Why not you then?' Heyman said, gesturing at the Spartan. 'You're not on the frontlines, are you? You're miles behind them.'

'I'm also overseeing the coordination of my forces and acting as a rapid reaction unit for whichever company needs help the most. Drawing up a training regime for this militia and implementing it would detract from my duties.

'How many recruits do you have so far, anyway?'

'Well, not many, but we only just started to gather people willing to join.'

'And the current number is...?' Hullum asked.

'Forty.'

'Have any of them got combat experience already?' Scott asked. 'Do you have any instructors starting the training process?'

When Heyman didn't answer Scott just looked at him with disbelief.

The Mojave was on the verge of all out war with two whole armies and yet, neither Mr House or Heyman had thought about raising an army of their own to try and counter them until it was too late. Did House really have that much faith in his Securitrons, Heyman and the mercenaries on his payroll to hold the region, or was he simply relying on predictive models to base his actions on, choosing the path of most economic return which, considering each person needed to be paid and equipped after a lengthy training period, probably meant a militia was only a last ditch effort.

Scott shook his head in exasperation. While Mr House may have known how to play the political game very well, military matters seemed to have escaped him. Combat was all about learning and adapting, and if an army saw another army relied on robots for the heavy lifting they'd adjust their strategy accordingly. Electromagnetic pulse weapons were widely available and unless each Securitron was shielded, they'd be fried. If the NCR chose to go with a less refined strategy, missile and grenade launchers used in great numbers could shred the machines while massive numbers of troops overwhelmed what remained.

'You're cutting it too close,' Scott said. 'No weapons, no armour, and no training this close to hostilities? They'd need such an intensive training program to get them on par with NCR troops that half would likely wash out within a few weeks if not days.'

'Is there nothing you can do?' Heyman asked.

'We're already doing it,' Scott said, waving a hand at the Scorpions and Pelicans surrounding the trio. 'All I can say to you about this militia is to just stop before it gets off the ground. You lack the time to do it properly, and sending half trained civilians into battle with guns they're unfamiliar with often leads to massive casualties.'

'It'd be better than nothing,' Heyman said.

'Not by much,' Hullum muttered, earning his a glower from Heyman.

Scott sighed inside his helmet and shook his head again.

'What if you just helped arm them?' Heyman asked.

'Our weapons aren't for sale,' Scott said.

'Not yours, idiot,' Heyman said, waving him off. 'NCR gear, from one of their army camps. Mr House is organising a team to go in and bribe a corrupt quartermaster into giving us some weapons and ammo. We're already working on the armour, we just need guns.'

'We're not a delivery service, either,' Scott said. 'If you want the guns, organise transport for them.'

'Which would take weeks,' Heyman said. 'And with how many brahmin it'd take to carry everything, we'd be very noticeable. All you'd have to do is go into NCR territory with a Pelican, pick the guns up, and come back again. In and out, quick.'

'I'm not risking a Pelican to get guns for a militia you should have been building up months ago.'

Heyman let out a growl of irritation as Hullum suppressed a snort of laughter, hands clenching into fists as his teeth ground together, but he managed to speak past them and say, 'The sooner we get those guns, the sooner we can start on the militia proper, and if things with the NCR and Legion don't flare up anytime soon you'll have an extra forty bodies to help wherever you need them when they're done training.'

That amounted to just over an extra platoon in terms of bodies though Scott doubted their effectiveness would be any better than a squad, but it was extra firepower nonetheless and even if the invasion started before they finished training, he could use them to haul supplies to the front or control any POWs the Marines captured.

He'd need to clear the flight with Captain McNeal and ensure whoever Heyman sent over had a reliable means of making contact once the supplies were in their possession and at the designated extraction point, the only snags he could think of being the possibility of being tagged by AA fire whilst flying in and out or the team Heyman sent getting discovered with the guns before they could get away, the NCR accelerating its plans as a result.

'I'll see what I can do,' Scott eventually said. 'But you'll need to begin the training and screening of your troops immediately. The NCR and the Legion won't sit around forever.'

Heyman nodded and left without another word, leaving Scott and Hullum alone again beside the Scorpion tank.

'You're really going to get his guns?' Hullum asked once Heyman was lost from sight.

'If the captain agrees, yes,' Scott said. 'But I doubt they'll get any real use. It took them this long to think about building a militia and with both sides conducting recon of our positions, the troops aren't too far behind. All Heyman and House will have accomplished is giving a bunch of civilians guns they don't know how to use to fight against troops they can't hope to beat.'

'Sounds about right for them,' Hullum said. He jumped off the Scorpion's track pod and stretched. 'Well, time to go have a look at the old Vaults around here. Maybe I'll run into transgender little girls playing God in some computer simulation or super mutant breeding grounds. Wish me luck.'

'Won't the other SPECIAL stats get jealous if I do?' Scott said. 'They'd still be stuck at nine.'

Hullum grinned back at the Spartan and waved goodbye as Scott had Tara hail the Heavy high overhead to plead his case with McNeal.