To Be of Service

I opened the door, and Quinn Andrews looked at his visitors perplexed. He eyeballed me up and down and said in his gruff ghoulish voice, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

I said, "Yeah, I think so. You led the team to help rescue Master Walker. I was one of Swilling's boys there."

He smiled, "No shit? You must be the guy I startled on the ridge."

I nodded, and his crackling radiation corroded voice added, "Welp, glad you're still kickin. Hell, aren't you also the guy who cut that fella down from the gallows?"

I nodded again and responded simply with a, "Yeah."

He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, "What was his deal anyway? What he do to piss off those preppers?"

Still trying to protect the Legate's true identity, I said, "He was just some courier who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Preppers abduct people all the time."

He got up, "No kidding? Anyway, what can I do for you two?" and looking at Grev, he asked, "You with the Resistance too? Can't say I seen you before. You a new member of Doc Martin's team?"

Grev spoke the first words he said since we entered the base honestly enough to not explode, "I'm from Gold Canyon, just been helping Swilling's boy here do some business around the valley." I had almost forgotten that the Enclave was listening to every word we said since stepping off that aircraft.

I got incredibly nervous and mortally fearful about how the old man would answer when Quinn Andrews asked innocently, "You from Gold Canyon? That place has been silent as the grave for at least the past month or two. Some caravans say nobody left the town in over a year, Haha! What's going on over there?"

Grev and I's faces remained steady, but I could tell that Grev knew the next words out of his mouth could possibly kill us all in a giant explosion. Quinn Andrews spoke in a "good natured" tone, so I was sure he'd be fine with it when I not-so-subtly changed topics by interrupting, "… General McMann said you could escort us around the base? We have to locate potential rally points for the Evac."

Quinn didn't even care that I jumped into the conversation, and I swore I heard Grev give an audible sigh of relief. The ghoul Staff Sergeant simply answered with, "Oh, I get it, 'Secret Resistance Business', right?" and gave a slight wink.

Then he went on, "I heard about that Evac, didn't think Mr. Swilling would still be going through with it, and I'd be glad to show you around. I just can't wait for the fight, Haha! I've never killed one of those Legion boys before… But yea, I'm not doing much right now, let's go."

We walked with him, and he showed us all around the occupied parts of the base which took several hours. Eventually, it was midday and there were no signs of the Enclave's cargo in any of the areas explored; not even in the supply depot or armory where we found the crate of Fusion Cores that we were going to take. The box of nuclear batteries looked fairly heavy, but I was sure that Grev and I could carry it to "Phoenix" or at least halfway before we call in the Vertibird. Something in my gut told me we had to check the hangars and so I told Quinn. When I asked if we could check them out, he said that there was just a bunch of junk and boxes full decrepit aircraft parts. I immediately knew that was where we had to go. I made up a lie about how we could hide the massive evacuation group in the hangars in case of emergency, and I had to strategize about its possible fortification. He agreed and took us past a gate guarded by several soldiers leading to the hangar units and uninhabited part of the airbase.

Quinn was a talkative man who explained everything around us the whole tour and all the way to the hangars. I didn't mind the guy's talking, but I did remain fearful that he would ask more about Gold Canyon and the strange activities there at any moment. I had my own explanation to avoid exploding, but couldn't read Grev's mind to see if his was good enough. By some miracle, Quinn all but forgot about Grev's town, and that spared us from possibly disclosing the explosive information we harbored.

We finally reached the hangars, and I pulled open the giant steel door to the first one that revealed a mess of debris. The whole hangar was packed to the brim with parts of buildings and junk from the "base cleanup" many years ago. The second one was much the same, and I dreaded the idea of having to go through all that wreckage to find the boxes the Enclave wanted. I couldn't find a good lie or reason to sort through all that trash for the life of me. I eventually gave up and reasoned; if I ended up having to do that, I was going to press the right-side button on my voice recorder/C4 block and kill myself immediately. However, the third hangar unit was much more cleaned up and organized. There were several containers, large unopened boxes, and crates all stacked neatly against the back wall.

There they were, two large steel boxes on the southern wall all by themselves reading, "VB-02 PTS-08305." The fact that the exact thing we were looking for was sitting alone against the wall was like a sign from God or Mars or whatever was out there. Upon seeing our target, I briefly considered making an elaborate lie as to why we needed to spray paint those two particular crates, but telepathically agreed with Grev on a more subtle approach. Grev discretely pulled out the note he was given detailing what we were looking for, and gave me a slight nod.

I strategically placed myself in a position that would make Quinn focus away from the old man and diverted the ghoul soldier by saying, "There's plenty of space in here, Quinn. In case we have to hide the majority of the refugees. There's plenty of defensible positions around these hangar units and that fuel station across the runway can make a good rally point for any who get scattered on the retreat." He agreed, and I watched the old man wander inconspicuously towards the crates.

I tried to keep Quinn's attention on me. Taking advantage of the military ghoul's talkative nature, I asked, "You're a ghoul? … You from before or after the bombs, Quinn?"

He smiled, and I saw Grev discreetly pull the IR marking out of his satchel. Quinn said, "Me? Oh, I'm from long before the bombs fell. Originally, I'm from out in D.C. You know where that is?"

I said honestly, "Nope, I think I heard of it from old books though. It's out east somewhere, right?"

He grinned again and responded empathetically to my ignorance, "Yes it is. I joined up outta there and been serving the good Ol US Army for almost 200 consecutive years, Haha! Yep, fought against the Canadians in Montréal for several years. Then, I got shot up and lost a bunch of good friends at a lumber mill east of the Yukon frontline; nightmare was called 'LM-5.' Luckily, I got patched up just in time to kick some Chinese ass in the Battle for Anchorage."

I said, "That's pretty cool. I heard the Chinese were bad and all, but I'm not really sure what a Canadian or a Montréal is, Haha!… What are those?"

He paused for a moment, and I looked just past him; Grev was marking the containers with the Xs. I focused back on Quinn, his face had a hint of dread and disgust as he said, "Doesn't matter anymore, lots of bad stuff happened over there and it's best left to history…"

He remained silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in recollection. Suddenly, he changed his tone and mood completely by asking cheerily, "Where you from anyway? You live in Phoenix your whole life?"

I said, "No, I grew up out in California. Had to leave when I was just a teenager and been sorta wandering the roads or livin alone ever since. Kinda just stumbled into the Resistance by accident, Haha! Sorta gave me some purpose though, you know?"

He smiled and said, "I've lived in California before… well… 'under' California. Just before the bombs dropped, I was stationed at a missile silo in Death Valley called the 'Hopeville Ballistic Missile Defense Complex'… Yea, when the bombs fell, the General; a dickhead by the name of Martin Retslaf locked us all in there. There were a few dozen of us that were spared the explosions outside, but when the earth shook; it knocked the leftover missiles outta place, corrupted the computer systems, and somehow fucked the base's reactor. The outside radiation and the RADs from the reactor started to seep in. Over the next few months, maybe even a year, we all either died to radiation or became ghouls."

I honestly found his story about California very interesting and asked, "What happened next?"

He continued with a hint of anger or sadness in his voice as he detailed the time immediately after the world ended, "Well, by this point, we all realized that despite how ugly we were; we were pretty much immune to radiation and wanted to leave. Maybe even see if we had homes to go back to, you know? However, the General had a different idea and kept the doors locked. He was driving himself crazy by staying in his office for days at a time and always playing that stupid harmonica of his. Eventually, we couldn't take it anymore. So, a couple techs tapped into the base's automated security grid and overrode all the doors, but doing so triggered the robots too. We all fought our way through a swarm of Sentrybots and turrets to escape the place. It was just me and three others that made it out alive. General Retslaf stayed in his office the whole time; so, he either got killed by the bots or managed to deactivate them and is probably still holed up there. Either way, we weren't going to stick around to find out."

I saw Grev start walking back to us, but I was caught in Quinn's story and asked, "What happened after you guys got free?"

The military ghoul was caught in his own story as well and continued, "Me and the survivors made our way south out of Death Valley and wandered California for a while. The world was still grey, and mutants hadn't had time to really develop. So, it was just us wandering the blasted roads and ruins of the land we used to know. Occasionally, we would encounter a group of cannibals or other ghouls like us. Eventually, we found our way north into Nevada and the ruins of Las Vegas. The city looked like it was barely even touched by the bombs, but that wasn't the same for the surrounding area that was flooded with radiation. The city echoed with the sounds of gunfire as the survivors of Vegas fought each other for everything they could find even over a year later… It was a mess. Most of us ended up staying in the outskirts of town that was too irradiated for survivors but just fine for us. I spent years there in Vegas as the RADs began to cover less of the city. Many of the survivors I was with eventually left our group to see if loved ones somehow managed to survive the blasts and the following anarchy. I stayed put, but always thought of heading east. I still wonder if my old home in DC is still standing. Hell, most of my old unit before the bombs fell was from DC, like my friend and platoon sergeant… I wonder if Levin or Savaren turned all 'ghouly' and what not, Haha!"

Learning that the man I was talking to never managed to make it home in almost 200 years was pretty sad. So, I asked the man sincerely, "DC is pretty far, right?"

He gave a light chuckle at my ignorance of geography, shrugged, and said, "It's over 2,000 miles east of here. So yeah, Haha. Anyway, about 50 or 60 years back, I found myself in southern California and ended up crossing the Colorado near the former tribe of Have-Su. May they rest in peace... So, wandering through the Sonoran Wasteland, I stumbled upon Luke AFB. The old base was largely spared the bombs somehow, and the soldiers and airmen that were stationed here kept the military tradition going strong as their community grew. Some are like me and been ghouls since the bombs, but over several decades; they been taking in wasters, teaching them old world military values, and offering protection to people of the valley much like your Mr. Swilling does. When I found them, I hadn't been officially in the Army for over a hundred years, but a lot of what you learn in the military sticks with you. After learning about my background, my prior service in the old world army, and my combat role as a field medic, they welcomed me into their ranks with open arms."

It was then that I remembered first seeing Quinn and the red crosses on his uniform. I studied the man's current combat fatigues, and the red cross symbol was present again.

So, I stupidly thought about the legends I heard in Phoenix several days prior and asked, "Field Medic? Is that what those red cross symbols mean?"

He said very seriously, "No, alongside my work here with the Army of Glory; at night, I am a member of the Night Hospitallers…"

I was about to ask why his other organization steals medical equipment from caravans when he burst out laughing, "Hahaha! I'm just joking. Of course it means I'm a field medic! I don't know how that old story got started, but it's been around before I ever came to Luke. Sorta like the 'Skin Walkers' 'Chupacabras' or even that 'Lost Dutchman's Mine.'... I did hear a rumor that some folk found the Lost Dutchman's Mine a while back, but no, The Night Hospitallers aren't real. We woulda killed a few of them by now if they were really a thing, Haha!"

I thought his joke was pretty funny, but when he mentioned the Lost Dutchman's Mine, and how some people found it; my heart stopped. I quickly changed the subject before he could continue by asking, "So, anyway, you ever think about going back to DC anymore? You know, now that you've been at Luke for a while?"

He looked off into the distance at the now setting sun, "Nah, it's too late for that. Plus, my family and friends are probably long dead. I can guarantee that the Reds bombed the crap out of DC… Whole place is probably part of the ocean or Potomac by now."

Just then, I noticed Grev was standing behind Quinn, and said, "Alright Grev, you ready to get going?"

The old timer gave me a grin and responded, "Yesssir."

Quinn looked back at the old man with surprise, "Forgot you were with us, old man! I get so lost when I'm talking, Hahaha!"

Grev shot back, "Old Man? I heard your story; you're 200 years old! Haha!"

Quinn said, "Your right, Haha! Say, you guys need an escort back to Phoenix?"

I quickly said, "No need, we have agents waiting to help us haul the crate back at a designated rally point. We're moving the things to a secret location before heading south. Also, the less people, the less attention."

He said, "You got that right. Well, let me at least escort you guys back to the armory and I'll see you off."

Quinn escorted us back to the armory. There, Grev and I lifted the box of fusion cores and headed out. The box didn't seem very heavy at this point, but I knew we had a long walk. If there wasn't aerial transport coming to take us all the way to Gold Canyon, I would've shot or detonated myself right there. Passing the gate, we carried the box through the ruined streets and around pockets of radiation. With sweat pouring from us, we made it about three or four miles outside the AFB's gate when it was finally pretty dark out.

The sun was almost completely below the mountains and the evening breeze was cool. However, with all my energy put into carrying that box, I was radiating a wave of heat. I thanked God no mutant decided to attack us, or Grev's hip didn't decide to go out; I don't know what I would've done. We reached a spot in the middle of the ruins that appeared to be about halfway between Luke AFB and the first shantytown around the Phoenix gate. Taking a seat on the crate, gasping, and trying to regulate our breathing, I was about to press the button for extraction when something hit me. I said to Grev;

"It's the left side button to call the extraction, correct?"

Grev huffed and puffed, "Yeah, left to extract; right to detonate the charge…"

I asked, "Who the Hell even made it an option to detonate these things!?… But... Left from our perspective? Or left from where they were facing us?"

Grev was silent, and so was I. I think the both of us were pretty sure it was the left button from our perspective, but I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about that until this moment. Grev said with a chill in his voice, "… Left from our perspective… I think?"

We sat there silently again, just listening to the wind and pondering which button would kill us or save us. Finally, a static voice came from my chest that said, "Your left to extract! You dumb shits!?"

That was it, the Enclave was listening to us the entire day. Just as I had the thought, "What if this is a trick? Do they even need us anymore?" Grev pressed the button. Thankfully, we didn't detonate. Just under 30 seconds later, I heard the faint sound of explosions coming from the desolate lands west of Luke AFB. The explosions continued constantly for almost 10 minutes. I counted them as I monitored the ruins for scavengers and predators. The explosions went on for another 2 minutes after a brief pause, and the Vertibird came in to land about 50 yards away. The hydraulic ramp door opened, and there were the boxes of parts. A trooper in that black power armor jumped out unarmed, took the box of fusion cores, and motioned for us to get in. As soon as we stepped inside, the ramp closed, and we took off back to the Superstition Mountains.

We flew for 20 minutes into the night, but we didn't land in the hangar; they set us down just at the foot of the Superstition Mountains with Gold Canyon to the west. The aircraft ramp lowered, and the pilot came over the loudspeaker telling us to get out. We both stepped out the door and were in front of Major Braxton who had two power armored guards both carrying Gatling lasers. The Vertibird took off and flew over the mountain where I heard the faint sound of the enormous hangar door open in the quiet nighttime desert. I worried that the Enclave would have a Legion mentality and kill us once we finished being of use. So, the Major approached, and my nerves went wild with what could happen. The aircraft engine noise was gone, the desert was silent, and the wind blew slowly when Major Braxton said;

"I'm assuming all went well?"

Grev responded, "Yesssir, cargo is on the bird right now."

The Major smiled and said in a convincingly grateful way, "I have to say, I didn't really expect a couple wastrels to be able to pull this off. I heard every word of your conversation with that 'General McMann', and luckily for everyone, you had some of your own business there. It seems as though we picked the right wasters for this task, but I do admit this whole thing wasn't entirely coincidental. So, I offer my sincerest; thank you..."

Grev and I remained silent but nodded as the Major went on, "I hope you understand that my words actually mean something… Any other member of the Enclave views anyone living in the wasteland as hostile. For your efforts; I will always consider you as allies of mine. However, you will always be enemies of the Enclave…"

At that point, I was absolutely terrified that Grev and I were going to be disintegrated into piles of ash. Instead, the Major said simply, "Thank you for your help, but may our paths never cross again."

I maintained my composure, but mentally heaved a sigh of relief before saying, "So, we're done here?"

Major Braxton gave a silent nod and turned towards the mountain, apparently ending the conversation. Just then, he stopped and said, "Oh, and, we will be leaving in the morning. Our mechanics are going to work through the night getting our birds operational."

He flicked a keycard at Grev, and the old man bent to pick it up as the Major added, "We will be gone by the late morning; bunker's all yours, so use it as needed… But if our forces come back here, everyone within will be slaughtered. Goodbye mutants!"

We watched the Major lead his men to the wall of the mountain. I observed as he pulled out his own keycard and swiped it on a rock. A cluster of rocks slid open revealing a hydraulic door. With that, Mr. Grevsky and I walked back to Gold Canyon, and I was just thankful that the Major kept his word. I recalled stories about that Enclave from when I was growing up, and everything said that they were the very image of evil. although their methods were extreme; as evidenced by their conduct in Gold Canyon over the past year. I couldn't help but think that maybe they weren't so bad despite their extreme views about wastelanders. I again wondered why the NCR would even try to fight an incredibly isolationist group of people that wanted almost nothing to do with the outside world back in the day. Back in town, the lights were all on, apparently everyone was wide awake from the sound of the Vertibird only a half hour earlier. Entering the town in the middle of night, people approached us asking what happened and where we've been

All we said was, "We solved the problem."

*Quinn's stories about his old unit, time before the war, and service in Canada are a slight reference to a story I've yet to post about the Canadian Annexation. Let me know if interested in that one!*