Mojave Wasteland

September 23rd 11:26 am

2267

"Sergeant Major," Jeremy called, as he knocked on the door. While he waited, he turned off to his left and glanced into the distance, watching people walk by before turning back to the door again.

"Sergeant Major!"

He knocked again a few times. No response. It was odd. The Sergeant Major was usually up by this time.

"Sergeant Major! You there?"

After hearing no response, he shrugged his shoulders and turned around, walking down the steps and heading off to ask around for him. If he wasn't home, then he was probably somewhere else.

Sydney watched him leave. She spent all last night thinking about the Sergeant Major, barely even being able to get any sleep, hoping he would be alright, and that she wouldn't have to tell anybody about why anything had happened.

Now that Jeremy was walking away from his home, it was all but certain.

She walked up to the door once there were few people around and stared into the wood. She was scared, more scared than she had been when she and Rem faced those Legionaries in Bunkerville. Part of her kept begging her not to investigate. She didn't want to be the one to find out, but she had to.

Her hand reached for the doorknob and turned it. It was locked. She withdrew her hand and drew in a breath.

Then, she lifted her leg and kicked it as hard as she could. The door swung open with a loud slam that rattled the walls of the house, and saw Dominguez there with his back against the wall. His armor was off, and his head was hanging low. A hypo was sticking out of his thigh and there were numerous more scattered around his body.

Her heart fluttered.

The entire town was rattled by the death of the Sergeant Major. Out of all the Desert Rangers who stayed there, he had been the most involved in teaching people how to keep their weapons maintained, among other things. The Captain helped at times, but Dominguez had always been at the helm of it. He was the first face the community saw when the contingent of Desert Rangers was brought up in conversation.

Bolders rarely ever came out to do that because he didn't quite have the charisma, and Mortekai was radioactive.

Damon, Rem, and Pat were each standing outside the post office while Sydney spoke with Captain Salmons inside. All three of them already knew the story. They were there when Sydney brought the Sergeant Major's death to attention and told Captain Salmons that the reason had been because she mentioned Rebecca to him. Now, it seemed like the details of what happened were being fleshed out.

"She looked distraught," Damon commented, breaking the silence between the three of them.

Rem kept his eyes tilted down.

"People die all the damn time. Colonel Watts told you guys that this was what it was going to be like."

"It ain't that simple, Pat. Sydney didn't grow up in the wasteland, like yew did. Yew been' seein' people die all the time fer as long as yew can remember. Her? This is prolly the first time she's been at fault for a friend gettin' killed. Maybe you have, too, but yew've had time to get over it."

"Whatever," she answered, "I'll be near the river. This shit really doesn't concern me."

Damon and Rem watched her walk away, and then the door opened. They saw Sydney walking through, her helmet hanging off her fingers. Her eyes were still pink.

"Sergeant," Rem called as she pushed past him, her facial expression contorting further to the attention she wanted so badly to just not have.

As she walked into the distance, they heard Captain Salmons calling them. Damon and Rem each stepped in, and Captain Salmons was leaned up against the desk that he had in there, his arms crossed over his chest.

Neither of them said anything. They just stood at attention.

"I have a special detail for you, Private."

"Sir?" Rem answered.

"I tried to tell her it wasn't her fault, but I get the feeling that it didn't quite sit in her the way I wanted it to. I want you to keep an eye on her. Talk to her, if you can. We don't want the same thing that happened to the Sergeant Major happening to her. We need everyone to be alright."

"Yes sir," Rem answered, aware that it was going to be a difficult task.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what exactly happened?"

The Captain turned his eyes to Damon, "That crucified Legionary she killed yesterday taunted her about Rebecca, who was the Sergeant Major's adopted daughter. We lost her six months ago. She stayed behind with four adults while the Sergeant Major, Bolders, Mortekai, another Ranger you never met, and myself went off to engage a Legionary contingent in the area. We came back three days later, only to find the place ransacked. The men were killed, the women and children were gone, including Rebecca."

Salmons breathed out, and as his eyes tilted down, both Damon and Rem could see that he was envisioning it while he explained, "We reasoned with him to stay with us. She had been gone for at least two days, and children are typically taken to Flagstaff. No way he was going to get her out of there. He seemed alright with it after a while. I always thought he was numbing himself to it, but what mattered was that I still had my Sergeant Major with me. Unfortunately, that Legionary knew the story and mentioned it to the Sergeant, and also mentioned that she had been killed. Crawford then mentioned that to Dominguez, and the last domino toppled last night."

"She didn't know how it would affect Dominguez," Damon answered.

"I know, Corporal."

The Captain seemed fatigued, or maybe just frustrated, "Truth is, even if there had been some kind of fault, I can't go around punishing my Rangers. I need you all to be fit for this detail. That's just how things are. I've already sent word to Bolders and Mortekai about crucifixions. They're to be killed before they can say much of anything."

They each stood there quietly, thinking things through.

"Looks like I'm going to have to get more involved with the locals. Dominguez was in charge of relations, but with him gone . . . well . . ."

"Sir, I have a suggestion," Damon cut in.

"Go ahead, Corporal."

"I would like to volunteer Jeremy to that duty. He's one of the locals. He's got a clear head, he's civil, and I'm sure he'll be fully cooperative."

Salmons nodded his head slowly, "I'll look into that, Corporal. Dismissed."

Both of them saluted the Captain and turned around, leaving the post office. After the door closed behind them, the town somehow looked different than before. It was quieter.

"It didn't even take a damn Legion raid to lose our first man," Rem muttered.

"Yeah. No use kicking up dirt about it. We have our details."

"I read yew," Rem answered, "How's yer detail comin' along?"

"It's coming along very well. I've got more than enough helping hands out there. Pat, too. She's been helping out a lot."

"That's good to hear. I woulda made my trip out there by now but I've been a lil busy. I met the other two Rangers."

"What are they like?"

"They're . . . reassurin', I guess. One of 'em's a mutie. Big bastard, with a huge claw mark on his iron chest piece. Pretty damn sure it was a Deathclaw. The other guy's a glowing ghoul that ain't got any screws loose up there."

He remembered being shot at just then.

"Well, maybe one or two, actually."

"Holy hell," Damon turned to Rem, "Never heard of that before."

"That's what I said. They look capable, 'specially the mutie. He's called Bolders, and the other guy is Mortekai. They don't acknowledge ranks."

"Why?"

"I don't really understand. I mean, they told me, but I ain't makin' much sense of it. Still, the Captain said we're to follow their orders until we're told otherwise. Remember?"

"Yeah."

They reached the outskirts of the town and in the distance, both of them were able to make out the figures that were walking around near Damon's project. Rem could see that there was already a wooden establishment of some kind up on one side of the river. That's where the turbine and generator would be installed.

"Awright, sir. If yew need anythang, just let me know."

"Sure thing, Private. See you later."

Rem waited a few hours before approaching Sydney. The whole day, she hadn't eaten anything and had found a place that was relatively estranged to the community. An old car dealer filled with vehicles that had long lost their use. A lot of them were much older than the cars the wastelander would typically find. They still used batteries, unlike the typical fission reactors each of them had installed, and that was where the town of Littlefield had acquired all of those batteries that were going to be used to power household appliances.

"Sergeant," Rem called, softly.

Sydney didn't answer as she sat there atop one of the cars. His steps eventually stopped right next to her. After he did, he set his rifle atop the car roof and removed his helmet, letting it hang at his sides as he turned his body to face her from her left. She wouldn't return the glance.

"Sergeant," he repeated.

"The Captain told me I could take it easy for today."

"He also ordered me to talk to yew about this."

"I don't need to talk about it. I know I made a mistake. Nothing else needs to be said."

Rem released a breath, unable to pierce through the outer wall that she had erected around herself. Standing there, looking at her, he couldn't come up with a way to get her to talk about it. It took a few seconds of him studying her blank facial features to finally open his mouth again.

"Yew gonna be able to perform yer duties?"

Her eyelids narrowed, turning to face him as she answered, "Yes, Private." Her intense eyes didn't leave him afterwards.

"I ain't so sure if yer tellin' the truth, Sergeant," he feigned sympathy, because he knew it would irritate her.

"What the hell do you know?"

It wasn't exactly the best way to get her attention, but it was the only way.

"I've been in yer shoes before."

The guilt of getting Emma killed was still fresh, and Sydney could hear and feel the authenticity in his voice. The Private had seen much more than she had, and that sincerity she heard in his voice was similar to how the wrinkles on a person's face may indicate a certain edge on life by the virtue of experience. It boiled her blood.

"Here we go. Go ahead, Rem, bless me with your wisdom."

"First off, I ain't here to help. I'm here to talk, because I know that comin' over here and talkin' to yew about how life goes on, that yew've got a duty to yer fellow soldiers and to the people of Littlefield ain't gonna fix it. Hell, nothin' ain't. The only person here whose got the tools for the repair job is yew. Just like the Sergant Major had the tools."

Her facial expressions contorted.

"Yew can use med x, or yew can use somethin' else. Yew can redeem yerself - - "

"I don't want to redeem myself to you."

"I don't mean me, Sydney. I mean yew. When I got my teacher killed, I got my lashes, but - - "

"I deserve to get fucking whipped for this."

Rem paused. It wasn't her fault, but if she believed it was, he felt there was no use telling her otherwise

"Maybe yew and I are made of different stuff, so take that into account when I say this."

"We're nothing alike."

"Awright fine, but listen anyway, and yew decide if it fits or not."

Rem stepped forward to her, staring into her eyes like he was trying to see what was beyond the horizon.

"When I got my teacher killed, I took my damn lashes, an' yew know what? I still don't feel at peace with thangs. What's a few damn skin cells and blood as opposed to someone's life? Huh?"

His hand lifted and he pointed his finger down at her cheek, his face inches away from hers, "Redemption's in yer hands. Not the Captain's, not in mine, not in anybody else's but yer own. I plan on bein' the best damn Desert Ranger I can to make up for gettin' my teacher killed. Maybe after I've saved a few hundred people, I'll feel awright. What about yew? What are yew gonna do to get redemption, Sergeant? Yew gonna suck it up and make sure yew don't make any more stupid mistakes as this detail continues? Or are yew gonna let it bring ya down?"

She stared at him silently.

"What are yew gonna do?"

" . . . I . . . I don't know."

"Well yew need to figure it out, Sergeant. Cause if yew feel this is yer fault, ain't nothin' gonna ever make ya feel otherwise. Best yew can do is find out what's gonna help yew cope, and do it."

She glanced at him one last time.

"And killin' yerself ain't gonna cut it."

As he turned around and began leaving, she stared at his back, thinking about his words as tears began forming in her eyelids. Captain Salmons had told her that it had been the Legionary's work that caused the Sergeant Major's death, but Rem had avoided trying to lift the blame off her shoulders and instead, he pointed out what mattered.

How would she get past this? Her eyes went gentle as she turned away from him, glancing into the floor in front of her.

"And we're in business!"

The people that were standing there, surrounding the small hydroelectric plant that Damon had erected on one side of the Virgin River, cheered loudly. Damon straightened out, holding one of the car batteries in his hands, fully charged and ready for use in one of the households.

Rem's eyes trailed from the plant itself, which was almost like a small wooden home meant to house little people, towards the pipe that spanned upstream. A few yards further up, a wooden dam was put into place to direct the water a certain direction and within that dam, the pipe, which was also called the head, was installed. In front of it, there was a trash rack that would keep out any unwanted debris.

Water flowed into it all the way down towards the plant, aided by gravity. There, it would pour into the turbine, causing it to turn, and then the turbine would turn the generator.

The result was the mildly triumphant gleam in Damon's eyes and the excitement in everyone's voices.

These people hadn't been living here for long. Littlefield started off as a community of nine people until the Desert Rangers came around and discovered the abundance of car batteries in the car dealer. With the promise of better living, they lured others in, who were eager for a chance to find a long term home.

Many milestones had been made. First when formidable weapons supplies were acquired, then when Captain Salmons concocted the community wide alarm, then when more people started to show up. The culmination was thought to have been when they fought off their first Legionary raid of eight men.

Now, there was something else to give them hope.

To appease the community, Captain Salmons and Sergeant Major Dominguez had repaired many household appliances to proper working order. Old televisions where movies may be played, music players, and even air conditioners. All that was needed after that was a good source of energy, and fission batteries were damn hard to find. Those were amenities that your average wastelander could never even dream of having on a consistent basis.

For what felt like years, these people had stayed there only on a promise that soon, they would be living like the people who existed before the Great War. Soon, Littlefield would be a place where men and women could raise children.

It was finally happening.

Rem couldn't help but smile under the black helmet he wore, looking from one happy face to the other, astonished by the excitement on everyone's face.

"When we have enough batteries, we'll hook them up and every home will come active at the same time! Understood?"

There was something in Damon Rem hadn't ever seen before. He could tell that the Corporal felt a deep sense of accomplishment after this, understandably so. The way that the people in the community cheered him on was superfluous for him, in a good way.

Even Liz had a smile on her face about it.

Rem's feet guided him in her direction, partly because she was the only one who looked like she would hear him if he said something to her. The others were too busy being excited.

"Can't wait to lay around with that air conditioner runnin'?"

"Hmph, I don't care about that."

"Why yew so smiley then?"

She continued staring ahead, and then Rem followed her gaze onto a young man, probably fifteen or so.

"You see him? The kid with the black hair? That's my little brother. If he's happy, then I'm happy."

"Well, that makes sense, ma'am."

"Liz," she corrected.

What the hell's up with everyone and bein' wanted to be called by their first names?

"Awright, Liz."

Pat smiled to Damon from a comfortable distance. She wasn't the type to bunch up together with a group of people that were as excited as everyone seemed to be. Damon glanced back, returning the facial expression before he went on about charging the rest of the batteries.

That night, those batteries were hooked up to the houses. Two were allotted to each household to promote a lasting charge in each of the batteries, and . . . families watched movies.

As Rem paced along through the town late at night, running his assigned patrol, he could hear people laughing from within their homes. Others played music loud enough to be heard well out into the streets. Captain Salmons was one of them.

The guards that stood on the improvised towers, watching the perimeter from up high, tapped their feet to some of the sounds.

But there was one particular house that was different from the rest. There were no sounds coming from it, and it wasn't Bolders' and Mortekai's home. It was the establishment that had been allotted to Damon.

There, he and Pat made love while music played softly in the background, unheard to the outside.

Rem walked past, unaware that this wasn't only a night of jovial celebration. It was also a night of passion.

"Private," he heard.

He turned around and found Sydney standing there, her helmet hanging off the fingers of her right hand, her rifle off the other.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"You were right. You always are."

He didn't answer. There was a certain confusion in his expression that she surveyed fleetingly before continuing.

"You've been saying and doing the right things since the day I met you. It's time I started showing you some respect."

"What? Yew don't need to say anythang to me, Sergeant."

"Call me Sydney."

Aw hell, another one.

"The truth is, you've been around more than I have. It was stubborn of me to reject the things you say. I think . . . to be honest, the reason why I was so defensive around you is because of how old you are. You're only seventeen."

"Turnin' eighteen next month. So yew might as well round to the closest year, if it helps ya."

"Whatever," she answered, "You're younger than I am, and I felt pissed off that you were assumed to be better than I am at doing my job just because you've been out longer than I have."

"Sydney, yew don't gotta say anythang more. I ain't sore at ya."

"This isn't just for you. It's for me, too."

He lowered his rifle and held it with one hand.

"But I understand now that I shouldn't have been so caught up on the idea that you're considered to be a better soldier than I am because you fight better or something. It wasn't about that. It was more about you understanding what it's like to be out here, all the idiosyncrasies involving soldiers and the things that they go through. That's why you're qualified to lead over me."

At this point, Rem could only listen in silence.

"That being said, thank you. For being patient when I was being an asshole, and for the words you shared back there. I really needed them."

"Yer welcome, Sergeant."

She stared at him silently.

"Sydney, I mean. Yer welcome. If there's anythang else you ever need to talk to me about, yew let me know, awright?"

"Copy, Private."

An awkward moment ensued between them. Rem seemed oblivious, and it didn't hit him for a while that maybe there was something she was expecting.

"Rem, Sydney. Yew can call me Rem."

"Understood."

Just like that, she turned her back to him and began walking away from him. Rem was left behind unsure of what he should be thinking until after a brief rumination, he decided he should feel proud. He knew he had handled Sydney's situation just right.

It was a huge relief to find that out.

He understood that she wasn't over the Sergeant Major's death, but she was already doing her best to make up for her mistake. Everything was getting better.

From a fair distance, Littlefield looked different. One of its portions, where the community was settled, was alight with activity. It was very different to what the place had looked like the night before.

"It would appear that they've uncovered a suitable source of energy."

Three Legionaries stood there, each one of them abreast, peering into the distance while the one all the way to the left passed on a pair of binoculars.

One of them looked through both of the glasses.

"It would appear so."

He continued searching.

"Is there any sign of what that power source is, Bacchus?"

Bacchus' dark eyes continued looking through all of Littlefield. It took a few minutes of searching between the three of them until they found it. One of the citizens branched out of the town itself and headed for the river. Bacchus' gaze followed him all the way until he arrived at his destination and saw the hydroelectric plant.

"I see it. They're getting their energy from that concoction they've erected on their side of the river."

He handed the binoculars over to his subordinate.

"It would be wise for Littlefield to be eliminated as soon as possible. If their numbers inflate, they could become a real threat," Bacchus reasoned.

"And the mutant?"

Bacchus' eyes narrowed, thinking back on the encounter that he had with the Super Mutant they called Bolders. He and another unidentified figure, by themselves, had lain waste to a camp of sixteen Legionaries.

To put it simply, he was deeply aware of the fact that the Super Mutant posed a huge problem, but that in and of itself wasn't all they had to worry about. Minutes before those sixteen men were killed, each of them had erupted into vomiting fits typical to when men are exposed to heavy doses of radiation.

"He will be dealt with," the Centurion uttered. "And it will be done swiftly."