188 Trading Post

Given the lackadaisical supply sergeant with no rush to return back to Forlorn Hope, us leave troopers were given the freedom to continue our leave at the locked down 188. It again wasn't New Vegas, but the supply sergeant and his boys got most of the things on their list in only a few hours. As night soon fell, another big fire was made with the patrol groups and we all had a good ol time. It was there that I really realized some of the troopers from those trapped patrol groups were female. I'd almost forgot that the NCR army had women in it, being at Forlorn Hope for so long. I was also too busy boo hooing about the leave thing to notice them before.

Some of those gals told the best jokes, and added unique sounds to the songs and bits to the conversations. Taking off their helmets, some were very pretty with long hair hidden by a bun, and sweet faces that made the combat aged Forlorn Hope boys look like utter garbage. Some women had very short hair with fun loving but hardened personalities from time in the desert and minds on practicality. The gals of the patrol groups differed in all means of physical appearance, but it was hard to get too attracted to some of them due to the thick brown dust jackets and bulky leather chest armor. That didn't matter to some of the leave fellas though. Either way, the night of acceptance was fun, and I made a new friend with a petite little thing from Junktown, "PFC Alisa Markovich"

Another morning came, the lockdown was still in effect, and I started feeling like I was spending too much time with the other troopers. As much as I enjoyed the company of my fellow buds in brown, one thing I was looking forward to about leave was meeting other people. For example; who was that woman in the hideous robe who was here nearly every other day?

I guess my intrigue was noticed because that morning after the supply boys arrived, I was sitting with some of the troopers at the picnic table when the smug little trooper Alisa said, "You gonna chat'er up, Ed? Or just keep starin? Haha!"

I wasn't attracted to that gal in the robes by any means (probably Because of the robes) and said how I didn't know what to say.

One of the troopers in my leave group said, "Go ask why she's wearin that gitup, Haha!" The others laughed, and I did too. That was a good conversation starter (Maybe).

I then tried making more excuses, but caved when one of the other leave troopers accused me of not being over my "boyfriend" pen pal (I forgot I mentioned my pen pals to the leave troopers).

"I did the breaking up, and let him down easy!... And I'm straight!" is what I was going to say, but instead I got up and approached the woman sitting at the distant bench.

Sitting down opposite the woman in those gross looking green robes, she didn't look up from her plate. The sun was just over the mountains when I got a real good look at the unique clothing. Weirdly entranced by the pattern of the fibers, I had never seen a garment like that before. It looked like a dark green burlap hoodie with thick, thick layers. I think she felt my stare because eventually she glanced up showing a decent looking pale face. She still wasn't really my type (The 2240 catalog with Sophia Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez was my type).

As soon as she caught my eyes, she asked in a way I couldn't figure, "Can I help you, proud trooper of the republic?"

Not expecting the latter part of the introduction, I thought I heard sarcasm, but it also seemed pretty genuine. My mouth asked the first thing that came to mind, "Why are you wearing that outfit?... It's really interesting."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she seemingly stared through me, "Why are you wearing that thick brown jacket? It'll be hot later, might get heat stroke?"

I didn't know what this woman would say on approach or in response, but what I imagined certainly wasn't… that? I then said reflexively, but surprisingly wittily, "Sounds like a good idea. Passing out saves the hassle of walking anywhere… Your turn."

Her face just showed the hint of laughter before she caught it, and returned to that gaze. She responded, "Fair enough. I like this outfit… Keeps the sun off my back and I can deal with the heat. Good enough?"

I shrugged, "Ok…" Then that was it. I didn't much care for this gal's attitude. I saw the troopers at the table giving thumbs up, but then I looked back.

I was drawing a blank. I had nothing more to say to this woman and so I stood up with a, "See ya."

I stood up, about to swing my legs over and walk back to the more enjoyable company, but the woman said, "Wait…"

I stopped, and she added, "Was that it?"

Then, I turned back to her and said, "Think so… You seem like a mean person. I like when people are nice."

That was a pretty childish sounding thing to say coming from a grown man, and perhaps she felt I was rather simple because she dropped her shoulders and said, "Come on, sit back down…"

I sat back in the same spot as she said, "I'm not a mean person."

"Alright then. That's… good?" I said.

She seemingly extended an olive branch by asking in a nicer tone, "What are you doing here? I've seen you and your pals whenever I've been here recently."

I said, "I was going to the big city, but our leave got canceled by a lockdown. All troopers' leaves on this stretch of road got canceled, and patrols had to return to the nearest outpost."

I waited for her to say something as she looked longingly out somewhere. Just as I was about to ask what brought her to the 188 so often, she said rather solemnly, "I know how bad lockdowns can be."

"You were in the NCR army!? That's awesome. When did you get out?" I asked more giddily than even I expected.

For the faintest second she looked perplexed, but answered immediately, "Wh?- Yep. Only for a few years though. Got out not too long ago."

It was cool to be talking to a veteran, so I enthusiastically said, "That's great. Did you serve in the Mojave? Me and my fellas are from Forlorn Hope."

Answer all lined up, the woman grinned in a way I couldn't quite figure and said, "I did. I was part of the 16th logistics battalion, bravo company."

Wow. I never even heard of that unit, but then again, I didn't know EVERY unit in the military. She seemed astonished by my expression, and I asked, "Was it pretty dangerous? Were you in the Mojave during Hoover Dam?"

The young woman again seemed amused by me (Probably from talking to another proud trooper after her time). She said, "Yes it was dangerous. But no, I got out a while before that. We were supporting the boys surrounding Helios One while they gave those 'Brotherhood of Steel' bastards the what for."

At that I felt a little odd. I mean, I lived nearly my whole life in San Fran, and the Brotherhood had an outpost there. They always seemed pretty decent with the Shi, and largely kept to themselves. I recalled how strange I felt when marching to the Mojave and having to keep eyes out for Brotherhood ambushes.

Her enthusiastic face changed when I said dryly, "Brotherhood was always sorta strange."

Her face fell to a curious one as she asked, "You had run ins with the Brotherhood?"

I didn't want to upset this vet and her triumphs against them, but I was honest, "Sorta… I'm originally from San Fran. Brotherhood's got a base or something near Chinatown where I grew up. They'd always been ok with us… But, they must've done some bad stuff to piss off the big bear."

She was silent for a long moment. Perhaps my personal experience with those techy fellas crossed a line for this vet who probably lost a lot of friends to them. The silence went on for a while longer before she surprisingly understood, "Brotherhood's got a lot of people killed, but I think they're just folks stuck in their ways."

I didn't know too much about them, and said as much, "I only grew up near them, I don't know nothing about their 'ways.' They just always been neutral to us in San Fran, so we've been neutral right back."

I was starting to sound like my Mama and Pop?

She caught my eyes and asked, "Well, what made you join the NCR army?"

I said in proud but vague defiance of my prior utterance, "Because I ain't neutral to bad folks."

She asked intriguingly, "What do you mean?"

"Mama and Pop heard about the Legion back home and said it's all NCR lies. I've been at Forlorn Hope almost my whole tour, and it aint lies. Unless my eyes were tricking me, I seen how awful those Fu- Filthy people are…" I was starting to get worked up about all that back at Forlorn Hope.

I thought again about people like Mama and Pop not taking sides just because they want to spend their whole lives fishing, trading, gardening, or cooking supper.

"If I learned anything in the army, it's that; if you aint on one of the lines, that means you're in no man's. You're barbed wire. You're a shell hole. Or, you're just one of those bodies lying in the sun when those morons in red come runnin over…"

I didn't want to get worked up in front of this vet of BOS-NCR conflicts. So, I stopped when I caught her face locked in deep concentration. I exhaled just a tad, and apologized, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to get worked up."

She threw her shoulders up and said calmly, "I totally feel you… And you definitely seem to believe and understand why you're here."

I wasn't sure I understood why I was in the army at all. But, I said, "Thanks. My whole tour was probably nothing compared to what you went through against those Brotherhood fellas…" and I gestured for her name.

"Just call me, 'Santangelo'…" I was going to ask what rank she went by when she was in the army and she added, "Tech Sergeant."

I realized it was about time to go and said, "Well, it was great talking to you, Tech Sergeant Santangelo. Thanks for your service."

She smiled, "You too" and did the gesture.

I responded with a smile as well and pridefully gave her my official NCR name, "Edward Harton. Private First Class."

I made my way back to the table with my trooper pals, and they asked all about her deal. I told them that she was a vet from the big Helios One battle back in the day, and one of the patrol troopers from that station got excited. By the time I got to that part, the Helios trooper was about to head over and meet the former Tech Sergeant Santangelo, but she was gone from the table. It was almost like she vanished. I was sure she'd be by again in another day or two like before.

There at the table, I learned that there was some other vet at the trade post as well. Set up by a destroyed army truck from long ago was an arms merchant whom some of the guys from McCarran knew. They mentioned that she was dishonorably discharged after refusing to properly discipline some of the troopers who got in trouble. I thought that was a bit over the top considering at Forlorn that would've been likely a CDL-2 or possibly 3. Perhaps she had prior incidents? Apparently, the arms merchant was pretty connected and held no grudge towards NCR since the supply sergeant got most of the ammunition order filled from her alone.

Later on, I asked the supply sergeant about when our group was headed back, considering the supply train was exempt from the lockdown. He said he was just waiting on a supply of shotguns from those "Gun Runner" fellas who supplied most of the army's weapons. Not sure if that was just a stall, he said it actually wasn't and that it'd arrive in a couple days. I asked the sergeant about why the camp needed shotguns, and he informed me that the army was lacking replacement parts for many of the service rifles in camp. The order was too big for the government back home to fill in the time needed, so, many of our guys were getting old scatterguns in the meantime. Both of us knew those wouldn't fare too well on the Observation line, so neither of us knew what to make of that.

The next morning of that "Working Vacation" came, and I wandered around the outpost. Up top, there wasn't more than the arms merchant, the little grub stop, and that army tent for the heavy boys. Lockdown was still going, and I was getting stir crazy from the monotony. I headed down below, and to my surprise, there were a few more occupants to the post. I came across a mean guy and his buddy, whom upon asking who they were, said, "Gun Runners."

I figured there was a Gun Runner person at the outpost who took the order for the supply sergeant. It was unfortunate that I asked if they had any guns in stock because when they said, "Yes" I was reminded of the errand Sergeant Holms ordered me to conduct on my leave. I found a much better quality 9mm pistol than those busted pieces of trash back at camp. I paid for it with the stash that Sergeant Holms gave me, but the thing was too pricey. I tried bartering, but no dice. I paid the cash Sergeant gave me, and had to dip $109 of my own cash, leaving alone what was set aside for "Darling Darla."

There still wasn't much under the overpass, only a poor child with a piece of strange headgear who offered to tell my fortune in exchange for something I owned. I tried to give him some cash, but he said he only took objects that were personal. What a charlatan. I caved, gave him the steel can of "Billy's Big League Chaw" I kept as my first can. I suppose I wasn't all that shocked when my "Personal energy" connected to the can made the boy say;

"Black gums. Need for more. Survive the sun, and fade into the arms of sleep with crooked jaw."

The kid then winced in pain and I felt ripped off. At least I wasn't going to die of heatstroke or a legionary's machete, but would of mouth cancer… Anyway, after that gloomy talk, I walked away to enjoy the rest of the time with more enjoyable company; the sad and stressed troopers of war torn desert.

In the afternoon of that same day, something in the distance caught my eye. Coming in from the east, on the road from the Boulder City ruins was a train of figures. I wondered what it was until it got close enough. Who arrived was a group of 15 or so rangers, most of whom were in that yellowish or tan combat armor with the neat hats, and only one was in the familiar dust coat and gas helmet I was used to seeing. The leader conversed with the outpost heavy guards, and then the whole group of rangers headed south. They didn't stop for questions from the supply sergeant as they continued to march by. All the caravan traffic stopped to look at those roughed up NCR elites, and we did too. There were maybe 10 rangers at Forlorn Hope all together, keeping watch in the towers, or waiting till their shift, but nothing like that.

I later learned that the lockdown initiated by activity west of no man's land had moved south towards another big NCR camp, Camp Searchlight. The rangers were brought in from Hoover Dam, and headed to intercept the raids or man the hotspots already secured by those from Searchlight and Helios. An hour later, the outpost radio told the metal troopers that the Colorado Sector lockdown was lifted because of the "Adequate reinforcements that command rallied for the situation" (Finally).

With that, everyone stuck at the 188 was free to go, but the supply sergeant we were now under still had to await that shipment of shotguns. As the patrol from Helios and the one from McCarran geared up to head out, I kept thinking. That would've been the day our leave group had to check out of our hotel rooms and start heading back.

*Trooper Alisa's last name "Markovich" is only a brief shoutout to Xcom-Anders' story "The New Europe" that has a primary character of the same name. Check it out! It's really good*