In the yard of the NCR Embassy, the band finished the national anthem with drawn out trumpets, drums, and cymbals. Cass looked over the assembled mass before them. It was mostly comprised of soldiers and the civilian staff of the embassy, all dressed in their finest clothes. Few locals came out to the ceremony.
But the important players were all there. The King stood in line behind the podium. Cass didn't see anything about him giving a speech in the program, but his presence said something. Julie Farkas stood beside him, also merely being there. General Moore stood in perfect rigidity, the ribbons on her dress uniform stacked high. And, of course, Dennis Crocker was there, to officially hand over the facility.
Cass stood behind the line of dignitaries, in the late morning shadows cast by the embassy. Kyle was just inside the doorway, trying to chain-smoke his nerves away. Crocker stepped up to the podium and looked over his outline. Pausing only to pat his bald head with a handkerchief, he smiled and looked out.
"Good morning, citizens of New Vegas!" he boomed. "For today is a good morning! It marks the next step in our great journey onward."
Cass shifted her gaze as Crocker continued to speak, focusing on the faces in the crowd. She knew what Crocker thought; he had done nothing but prattle on about it since they flew in aboard a Vertibird. And General Moore had done nothing but protest the transition from military rule, citing all the various "serious incidents reports" she had on her desk.
No, Cass was more concerned with what the average Dick and Jane thought. And, considering the lack of either in the crowd, it told her just how much they cared.
She leaned around the corner and peeked in the doorway. Kyle had broken out his old duster and threw it over his suit. Crocker would be flustered, if he knew. The Courier met Cass' gaze.
"How's it look?" he asked, reaching for a fresh smoke.
"Between a nest of Cazadors and this crowd, I'd take the Cazadors," she replied. Kyle didn't reply, lighting the cigarette up.
It was well past the posted hours when Kyle and Cass finally dragged themselves into the former embassy building, now the territorial capital office. The staff raised their eyebrows, but said nothing of it, especially after Kyle locked himself in his office. Cass sat heavily into her chair, her eyes squinting behind her sunglasses.
"Miss Cassidy . . ." one of the staff said.
"God damn, not so fucking loud," Cass retorted, before wincing at the sound of her voice. She caught her reflection in a piece of glass. She looked exactly as she felt. She hated getting old. Not even ten years ago –
The young man coughed. Cass tilted her head up slightly.
"What?" she asked.
"Miss Cassidy," he continued. "The governor has a meeting with his cabinet to talk about his policy."
Cass wracked her foggy brain. She glanced at the clock. Right, the meeting. That was two hours ago. She groaned. This wasn't exactly the best way to kick off a political career.
"I'll get him," she said, slowly pushing herself out of the chair. She knocked on Kyle's door. He didn't reply. In fact, she was sure he didn't even move.
"Kyle, we have a meeting," she said. No response. She knocked again.
"Come on, Kyle. We've already fucked up today; let's not make it any worse." She pressed her ear against the door. Still nothing.
"Courier Six," she softly said, "You have a promise to keep."
She heard the chair dragging against the floor. The door opened a moment later, Kyle giving her a beady glare.
"You ever going to tell me what exactly that promise is?" Cass asked. Kyle continued to stare.
"What are we doing?" he finally asked.
"Same thing we did years ago. Getting together with the rest of the gang and figuring out how we're going to get shit done," she replied.
Kyle sighed and stepped out. Together, they went to the cabinet meeting room in the newly constructed wing.
As soon as Kyle stepped in, everyone else in the room stood up.
"Good morning, Mr. Governor," Heather Daynard, the Secretary of Infrastructure, said, her voice raspy. Kyle nodded back and took his seat at the head of the table, with Cass sitting to his right. The rest of the cabinet sat down as well.
Kyle buried his face in his hands and hunched over. Cass jabbed him in the ribs. He winced, and then sat up straight.
"Right," he mumbled. "Who wants to go first?"
"Our first priority needs to be a complete census of the Mojave and all its towns, Mr. Governor," said Emilio Rivas. He was the Secretary of Finance, freshly appointed to his post, as was the rest of the cabinet. He pointed to a drawing board he had posted behind him.
"As you can see, the population of the territory is completely unknown," he continued. "The only accurate count of residents we have is in the farming settlements south of Vegas and the town of Primm, out to the west.
"Without an accurate count, we will be unable to accurately project our tax dues into our budget. Speaking of taxes –"
Kyle raised his hand.
"OK, next, he said. Juan frowned, but said nothing,
"Mr. Governor, our budget needs to be prioritized towards rebuilding," Heather said. "The war against the Legion has destroyed a great deal, to say nothing of the damage to all the Pre-War infrastructure. I strongly feel that the Mojave will never be able to move forward until we achieve what I call a Class II level of restoration."
At that point, she reached into a bag and began handing out binders to the rest of the cabinet. Cass stared at hers. The thing was massive, with a veritable rainbow of tabs sticking out of the side.
"This is my outline for my restoration project. If you would all turn to the first page . . ."
Cass and Kyle exchanged glances.
What the hell had they gotten themselves into?
The cabinet took a late lunch break, Kyle practically running out of the room. His head felt like it was about to explode from everything that he been reading and hearing. He fetched a cigarette from his pockets, taking a long drag as soon as it was lit.
The merciless sun of the desert beat on Kyle's crinkled face. The hot wind whipped his duster around him, kicking the dirt and sand over his shoes. He embraced it with open arms. As he sucked on his smoke, his mind wandered backwards.
He could see Vegas as it was, when the war simmered and House reigned from on high. He remembered walking into the Tops, Boone and Cass by his side. The smell of stale smoke and dried alcohol stung his nose. He saw the man in the checkered suit. His forehead ached, the scars remembering the man who put them there.
"Ring-a-ding-ding, Benny," Kyle muttered.
"You say something?" Kyle looked behind him. Cass had walked out, carrying two plates of food.
"Just remembering," Kyle said. He grabbed one of the plates and began to eat. It was good. Very good. It reminded him of the food back in the capitol. Was this, he pondered, what his diet would be from now on? Working in an office, feasting from on high, protected by a ring of bureaucrats and paperwork?
He set the plate down on a nearby table.
"What's wrong?" Cass asked. "Too much spice?"
"No," he said. "It's fine." Kyle took a deep breath. He looked at Cass. "Do we have our own cooks?"
"I think so. Why?" she replied.
"I'm going to have to talk to them. I don't want food brought over from California. If we're going to work here, we're going to eat food from here," he said. Cass raised an eyebrow.
"You sure a diet of Gecko steaks and corn is the best idea?" she asked.
"It's better than what we ate during our travels," Kyle replied. Cass couldn't argue with that. Many times, their entourage would have to split a pot of Molerat Stew five ways, almost always going to bed hungry.
Kyle began to walk around the grounds, leaving Cass to finish her lunch. She watched him, halfheartedly enjoying what was sure to be her last good meal for a while. Sometimes she wished she could crack open that skull of his to see what was going through his brain.
One time in particular came back to her. It was right before he had disappeared towards the Divide. Kyle had just finished driving a pool cue through Benny and leaving him to bleed out in the suite of the Tops. Kyle finished getting his revenge, and was deciding what to do next. Cass and Boone turned to deal with a drunk soldier that had barged into them. The next thing they knew, Kyle had vanished into the night.
Cass and Boone spent hours combing the Strip, even checking the drunk tank at the Embassy three separate times. By pure chance, they stumbled across him near the Lucky 38. Cass got three words of pure frustration out before she caught the look in his eyes.
It was a haunting look, the kind a child got after making a wrong turn down an unfamiliar street to find the local street gang surrounding him. Kyle's words were mumbled and fragmented, saying more than he usually ever did, but making less sense. Boone tried to get a straight answer out of him, but Kyle shut him out.
After more nonsensical phrases, Kyle left Cass and Boone on the Strip and headed straight for the gate to Freeside. It would be more than a month before Cass next set eyes on the Courier, looking more haggard than he had when he walked into the Mojave Outpost, but with wearing a new duster and a fire in his eyes that engulfed the whole desert.
After Cass went into a tirade that should have been recorded for the history books, Kyle only softly mentioned his promise.
What was that promise he made? And to who? Cass hoped to one day know Courier Six's secrets. But for now, lunch was over, and the meeting had to resume.
The blinds to the conference room were tightly shut. For hours, they kept the blaze of the sun at bay. Now they obscured the dazzling luminosity of the Strip. Each member of the cabinet had delivered their view of the priorities to Kyle. The governor had stepped outside to smoke and dwell on what he wanted.
Cass stayed in her chair, her notebook filled with scribbles and notations about the various ideas. She tried to fall back on her caravan experience, but given how that had turned out, she was lost on what to do.
Kyle came back inside, the pungent stench of cigarettes following closer than his duster, and sat in his chair.
"Everyone had some good points," he said, inching closer towards the table. "I also now know why it's easier to blow things up than build them." Cass chuckled. The rest of the staff did not.
"We need to know where we are before we move forward, though," Kyle continued. "There will be a full census of the territory. How soon can you have this done, Emilio?"
"My staff is thin right now, Mr. Governor," Emilio responded. "Once I have all positions filled, it will take me at least three months."
Kyle just stared at him.
"And how long until your staff is filled?"
"... I don't know. Congress is in recess right now, and all my applicants are tied up in committee."
Kyle looked around the room.
"I guess that all of you have similar problems?" There was a chorus of agreement. Typical, Cass thought. Congress puts them in charge, leaves them understaffed, and then goes on vacation.
Kyle's eyes went dark for a moment as he dwell on the issue.
"Okay. Everyone is going to pitch in and help. Emilio is in charge. Tomorrow, I'll head to McCarran to see if the military has anything that can help. Questions?"
Cass had a million running through her head, as she was certain the others did, but only time had the answers. Kyle rose to his feet.
"Meeting adjourned."