Patrolling the Mojave

by Vanto

Max, a young Californian woman, decides to enlist into the army to see the world beyond Shady Sands. Soon brought to the Mojave as a soldier, she quickly find herself embroiled in her Republic's vicious conflict with Caesar's Legion, its allies and hostile third-parties. As a new threat emerges from a shallow grave in Goodsprings, Max must adapt to the ruthless wastes to survive...

2. Meet the Mojave sun

"I want it to be known, men and women of the NCR, that I am absolutely proud to be sending you off to the fight! Over… a week, I've coursed you under the entirely fictional threat of rape, taught you to shoot, gave you concussions during hand-to-hand training, awoke you with the sound of gunfire and more than once I have publicly humiliated you… But know, my friends! That this was all on purpose! Some of you may have quit, but it was all to toughen you up!"

Here they stood, troopers of the NCR facing their instructors. The "graduation ceremony", as it was called, had been made quite quickly by all accounts: The troopers were standing close to their former quarters, already occupied by new recruits, in front of a wooden stand only large enough for Krapickle to stand atop of it. The other instructor had elected to stand close to it, tapping at the ground with his right foot and observing the four trucks stationed nearby. His gaunt features were worried, unusually enough for a man who would be most likely be unfazed if Legate Lanius suddenly ran out of nowhere to announce his defection to the Republic.

Or maybe he was just hot? Max could emphasize. The sun hung up above, piercing at them with its death rays, and the khaki gears that they were currently wearing were not helping matters. "Be proud!" They had been told "You are wearing the colors of the Republic's defenders!" But she didn't care much about the suit. What mattered was not flinching while the speech was going on, because Krapickle would absolutely get on their case if they did. The man would not be afraid of delaying his speech just to impart his wisdom upon them one last time, even if he was somehow holding back for this one.

"See, wimps don't last long in the Wastelands! The Legion, the Fiends, the Great Khans, the Powder Gangers, even the beasts! They'll eat you up if you're too weak! But through this righteous training, you are now more than a match for them! And I want you to keep remembering that because they'll try to scare you! They'll act like they're the baddest sons-of-bitches this side of America… but THAT AIN'T THE TRUTH!" Oh boy, never mind. "BECAUSE THAT'S WHO YOU ARE RIGHT NOW! ALL OF YOU! SOLDIERS I WANT TO READ ALLLLLL ABOUT YOUR MILITARY EXPLOITS BY THE END OF THE WEEK! I WANT FOR THE FACTORIES TO MELTDOWN TRYING TO PRODUCE ENOUGH MEDALS FOR ALL OF YOU! TO HAVE LANIUS QUOTE ALL OF YOUR NAMES AT ONCE WHEN HE EXPLAINS WHY HE LOST! GOT THAT?! WHEN YOU'LL GET HOME, I WANT TO BE FUCKING TERRIFIED FOR MY LIFE IN YOUR PRESENCE! I WANT TO BE IN THE PRESENCE OF KILLING MACHINES! GOT THAT?!"

"YESSIR!" They yelled back, with energy matching his. Irritation over the heat likely bestowed their lungs with such power, but at this moment, sheer patriotic rage seemed to be the actual culprit.

"GOOD! NOW I WANT-"As he spoke, Balzer decided to intervene, stepping on the stage and quietly whispering some choice words to his fellow instructor's ears. "WHAT?! THE TRUCKS ARE DOING WHAT?! Oh right sorry I should stop yelling…" They whispered to each other a few more times, the audience more than dreading the end results of the interruption, and then both turned towards the soldiers. Max took a quick glance at Varzi while this was going on: The woman stood tall and proud, unbothered by the heat. Or simply putting on a very efficient poker face. Heh, pretty useful gift in Vegas, was it not?

"SOLDIERS YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED TO GUARD THE CARAVANS HEADING TO CAMP MCCARRAN THEY WILL TRANSPORT YOU TO THE BATTLEFIELD!" Informed Krapickle, stepping off the stage in a hurry. "YOU WILL BE TOLD WHAT TO DO BY THE FARMHAND I MUST GREET YOUR SUCCESSORS GOODBYE!"

"Bye." Balzer saluted, and the two Instructors ran off, leaving the stage barren for a few seconds… until a particularly clueless-looking young man stepped on it, sweating bullets and not because of the heat.

"Huh… See, the Brahmin Barons need these trucks more than y'all do! But don't ya worry folks, the caravans are made for that kinda stuff!"

…

Ten hours. Ten hours spent having to share space with the backside of a Brahmin. As luck would have it, Max had managed to place herself to the left side of the cow, saving herself from any unpleasant fate, but that was the only mercy that she would get. She had battled for spatial dominance with the oblivious creature before discovering that she certainly could not move such a mass of muscles and fat on her own. Having lost the encounter, the young NCR soldier had to accept that she would spend the following hours with her knees shoved against her chest, glaring at the creature with enough aplomb to scare off some of the fiercest Centurions that the Legion would have to offer. Her neighbors were faring only very slightly better, likewise having to make concessions for space, but holding up better to the pressure. The hay around the caravan was fairly comfortable, after all, and a rudimentary electric fan was single-handedly cooling everyone in the room. Without it, the heat alone would've perhaps driven Max to do something lethal to the cow. To help matters, the sun wasn't too overbearing: Only thin spears of light poked through the small holes on the roof, and a lamp tied to a little chain up above illuminated them all. Naturally, Max, being at the end of the wagon, received the least of it.

She would probably find that hilarious if she was in the driving seat though. One mutant cow surrounded by various NCR soldiers, proud liberators of the Mojave shoved together into the same caravans to be carried off to battle. Max had figured that they, of all troops, would certainly receive the most lackluster entrances, but that was definitely the worst one she could think of. At least though, the caravans moved quite a bit faster than the actual trucks would have. She was curious about that, but the cramps were too distracting for her to escape into her own thoughts.

"Hey, Max, you holding up?" Emma's voice rang from the right side of the beast, and the young soldier held her hand up to be seen. "How does your foray into the wasteland feels like so far?"

"Not too different from my previous job. I'm just staring at some Brahmin, what about ya?" A slight chuckle was her answer, and Max smiled coyly, proud over her joke working. "I dunno. I wanted to see it from the back but… I can't."

"Heh. It's because Raiders would kill the brahmins if they just left the Caravans unprotected." The voice that replied came from a man. It came off as slightly muffled, to her confusion. "We won't find 'em dwelling on our roads any longer, but the Caravans are just used to keeping the Brahmins out of the sun. It stresses them less."

"O-oh, thanks!" She had no expected for someone else to join the conversation, but who was she to deny anyone? Emma herself stayed relatively quiet.

"… Oh, you're that Brahmin nerd." She finally said, cutting through the silence. "Why are you wearing that face coverage though?" Max immediately regretted not being able to truly move or shift around much, since she could only listen.

"Huh, my name's Nolan. And Brahmin shit just smells awful, especially in the heat. I had some friends get high off them, ya know? When the sun felt like cooking us up, the heat would cause the feces…" Max's nose instinctively scrunched up. "… Nevermind, y-you're probably not into that."

"Huh, I don't care too much but don't tell that to Max. She's right next to its ass."

The auburn-haired woman smirked beneath her little cap. "Heh, don't ya worry. It's been actual hours of it, right? How long do we have until we get to the outpost?"

"Would've been a week on foot but they're moving crazy fast." The man moved to the side, attempting to get some space as well. "Heycouldyoumoveyourarmthanks It's… it's, see, the BSI's been working on faster engines for cars. It would've been used for the war effort but some... wealthy folks proposed to test it first, out of the goodness of their heart. Can't have the army get everything or so they said." He briefly scratched his arm, slapping away a mosquito that was nearly as large as Max's index. "Now it's much easier to get through dangerous territory and hey, those Brahmins that were pulling the caravans can be carried too! And those Brahmin Barons get richer and… well ya know how the rest goes."

"But they've already got the actual trucks to themselves! Why don't they share?! How the fuck is the next batch of soldiers going to come over when we already got so lucky ourselves?!" Interrupted one angry-sounding woman further nearby.

"Sharing? The Brahmin barons? Not ever." Scoffed Emma. She somehow looked even more uncomfortable than Max, though it was perhaps due to being taller, but did not let that break her stride. "We got pretty lucky there honestly. Some higher-up probably figured he could save us a week of travel by cramming us into these souped-up caravans. Cows and sheeps got along in the Old World, did they not?" Yeah, crammed really is the right word thought Max, struggling some more.

"Yeah, but why send them to Vegas in the first place? I heard that there have been attacks on Caravans over the region. You'd think that kind of technology would be used to travel across… safer roads, right? It can outrun raiders, sure, but Vegas has a ton more than that at every fucking corner!"

Emma jammed her thumb upwards as if designating the sky. "Those caravans are Gunderson's for sure. He's looking to sell a crapton of meat to that cushy restaurant. The Mega-Luxe or whatever. And they're bound to be impressed by the speed of his vehicles. And the competition either avoids Heck or just can't keep up with the speed of his vehicles. Plus…" The older soldier's eyes darted to the side and she spoke up after some tense seconds. "Gunderson's stuff… Unlike the others, you'll rarely see mercenaries attacking his caravans, funny that, huh?"

"Gunderson? Urgh." The male soldier groaned. "When I was working as a guard, his son was always around to ask us how it feels to be poor or some shit. The most annoying little shit I've ever seen. Heck… He earned his stuff, I'll give that to him. His son, though? He just inherited it all! But he'll still act like he's your better just because he gets to reap all the rewards for his dad's hard work! I couldn't even take it anymore!"

"Guarding Brahmins is a pretty well-paying job and you gave it up because of some harsh words?" Asked Emma, her tone neutral.

"I've still got my independence, right? It may not be the best choice, but I'll die before I become one of those zombies who just accept mistreatment for the sake of money!" He tugged some more on his face wrap and grew silent. "… Huh, sorry. I just get riled up when the Gundersons came up."

"Naw, naw. Speak up when you're angry." Suggested Emma. "I like knowing why the other troopers are out there getting into all this shit willingly... Hey, Max! Weren't ya a Brahmin farmer in the past? I bet ya could share some gossip with this guy!" Max blushed. She had expected Emma to make friends, but to be brought into the conversation like that was unexpected!

"H-huh! Hi, I'm Max! I'm behind that Brahmin an-OH THAT'S NOT GOOD BUCKET BUCKET BUCK-«

…

Max flopped her way out of the vehicle with the grace of a bloatfly, intercepting herself on the concrete with her bare hands. Aware that a much greater flood of troops would come forth, the young woman immediately decided to stretch her legs, fearful that spending ten hours crammed next to a Brahmin would cause them to somehow atrophy away. To her immense relief, a series of little pop sounds echoed all over the place as she stretched, which her limited medical knowledge interpreted as a good sign. Less thankfully enough, a lot of people were now staring at her, be it other caravaners, merchants, or even fellow NCR soldiers, who traded glances at each other. Embarrassed, the young woman quickly got up and dusted herself off, walking off a little to allow her companions to have some space for themselves. Immediately enough, several of her neighbors walked out and immediately followed her example. Some, such as the masked man, fell out of the Caravan and then stretched their legs across the ground, using their two hands for supports. Fewer, with Emma included, were content to simply walk away with nary a complaint, sometimes throwing slow kicks at the air to better "revitalize".

In a way, Max was glad that more of the other troops were doing it her way since it ensured that she wouldn't be specifically singled out. However, there were more matters to attend to! Feeling eager to take a walk, the young woman turned left and decided to take in her surroundings, admiring it all. She ignored the many caravans, having grown sick of them, and simply took her surroundings in. Immediately enough, she noticed that the Mojave was hot, but it didn't come off as a surprise to her. In the absence of a fan, she took her helmet off her head and repeatedly waged it to provide her with some cold. The Outpost was… crummy. Clearly built from old ruins, or hastily put together at least. The walls were cracked, some windows were still barred together or broken and the few NCR soldiers around seemed to be in the middle of some heated discussion with the Caravaners. How could it look like this when it was such an important entry point into the Mojave? Of course, they had to make do, and it was no Shady Sands, but surely the place could afford to be cleaned up. They hadn't even bothered to get rid of the vehicle wreckages around the road, and crude shacks had been built along with fences, to keep the Brahmins in. And the parts without Old-World tech were still occupied by empty Caravans, prevent from moving on by the threat of paperwork.

Taking her eyes off the building, Max took a deep breath and looked up at the famous Unification Monument, depicting the famous unification of the Nevada Rangers and New California Republic Rangers, the latter easily recognizable by their famous trench coat and gas mask. Both statues stood taller than the Outpost itself, and she couldn't help but get closer to try and admire the details. The statues were a little… crudely built, held together by metal plates and bars, but it was a true work of art nonetheless. A dedication to a famous instance of unity in the Wastelands, and a work of art that matched those of the Old World. Or at least, those she had seen.

Looking past the statues, there laid the Mojave, and Max took a few steps closer to observe it all in its entirety. There, below the orange sky, she could see the entire desert. And something about it almost made her heart stop, like it was taken aback at the sheer width of it all. The Mojave was enormous. Taking the road below, one could decide to wander through the scarred asphalt into the two towns that she could see in the distance or risk a shot at walking around enormous stretches of sands. Taking the road north would bring her to Primm, but walking east would make her pass through Nipton, and… were those mountains? Those enormous mounds of stone standing even taller than the monuments? And behind them, the road to Vegas!

It was amazing, to think that she could take a hike anywhere there. Go up to the tallest of mountains and observe the Outpost and its statues, now a lot less mighty. She could go around looking for Old World gold lost somewhere in the desert. Leave to Primm and try her luck in its casinos. Go to Nipton and… and… skip Nipton, and go to see the famous thunder beast of Novac! And that was still only a small part of the Mojave! She hadn't seen Vegas and its surroundings! Or even that quaint little town of Goodsprings, where the local doctor could cure bullets to the head!

Max couldn't help but smile. It was all that she had wanted to behold. To other Wastelanders, it was a common sight. Maybe one that they grew tired of, even. But here, right now, right there? That desert, bathed in the orange glow of the sun? It was prettier than Shady Sands to her. The movie screen had truly not done justice to how beautiful of a place it was!

The sound of something jangling interrupted her thought, then a husky voice. "Huh, Max?" The young soldier leaped from her spot, startled, and turned around fast to behold Emma standing in front of her. The older woman looked at her dubiously, keeping one hand on her hip and using the other to jam her thumb backward. "The lieutenant is giving us the instructions on how to proceed. It's… ah, it's nothing too bad if you miss it. It'll just tell you exactly what to do past this Outpost." She clicked her tongue, her sarcastic words briefly hanging in the air. "So you should get your ass back to the squad before they think that you're deserting on us or something." Max very briefly thought of telling her off, but Emma nonetheless had a point. What kind of soldier daydream during important explanations? It felt humiliating to be talked down to like that, but she wasn't too surprised. For one who was quick to deride others on being "puppets", Emma was very keen on listening to her superiors.

"I'm sorry, huh..." They began to walk back to the camp. A merchant approached, holding up a bottle of water, but was shooed off by a mere hand gesture from Emma. "I just wanted to see the place, heh… And do a little walking, too and… Hey, y-you're jangling like crazy too." She pointed a finger at her friend's left pocket, having identified it as the source of the noise.

"You're not a fucking tourist, Max." Emma voiced disappointment in her voice. "You're a soldier. You don't wander off at your pace like that. Everyone was crammed for hours but they stuck around, see?" Her tone had something parental to it like she caught Max breaking some precious old-war pottery. The younger soldier huffed derisively and gathered all that built-up frustration into a little inferno within her to stand up a little straighter as if preparing to box. She knew that she was doing something wrong, and getting angry with the wrong person, but petty anger was a good repellent for rationality.

"You don't need to treat me like a kid! I was just taking a few steps away, right? I would've been back soon and been debriefed if I needed to. It's a safe place here! I'm not going to get like…" Emma turned around, without bothering to reply to her. She didn't need to: Her gaze was fierce enough on its own that all of Max's confidence went away in a flash, her defiant words dying before she could so much as utter them. Without thinking of it, she slouched back, abandoning her bolder stance. "I'm… I'm sorry, huh, I…"

"There ain't no safe place here." Emma jammed her thumb down at the cracked asphalt, then all over their surroundings. «There are places where you'll die. Places where you're in danger. Places where you're less in danger, rarely, but you'll never be safe. There'll always be some prick with a scoped rifle or a Fiend to do something stupid. Don't make a habit of walking off or you'll die." She gave a quick glance to the desert ranger statue above but kept walking. Even while her gaze was always, she walked well away from any obstacle, without even needing to feel out with her hand to receive warnings from Max. Not that she was in a state where she could speak out. The young woman was glued to her fellow soldier's words as if the latter had placed her under hypnosis. "There's never second chances in the Wasteland. I've seen way too many people assume that they've got a grasp of things before dying very, very quickly. You're too weak and inexperienced to just zone out, Max." The young woman bit her lips. Was it what they meant when they say that truth hurts? "Stay with your group. Don't zone out. Always listen to what your superiors have to say. It's all it takes to be a good survivor and soldier sometimes."

"Y-yeah." Replied Max, rubbing her left arm. They walked by in silence, arriving close to the Caravans: There, the group of soldiers had been joined by a man with a trimmed mustache and a thin pair of eyes, which promptly turned towards the arriving duo. Somehow, he only needed to frown just a little for her to immediately find him much more antagonistic than Krapickle.

"Ah, our prodigy returns." He spoke, with about as much enthusiasm as a man sent to his death. It was somehow worse than if he had been mocking or smug: Every word of his hang heavy on the air, pronounced slowly like he was out to waste everyone's time. "Miss… Doleetle, how was your scouting? Surely you would be well informed of the Mojave's current state, given the length of your absence." There were a few polite chuckles, but a single glance from him terrified the audience into giving way. He was harsh with everyone, she'd give him that.

Emma stood by her, curious as to what Max would answer. She was overestimating her. "Huh… There's a lot of cars in the way?" The private said, smiling widely to make it pass off as a joke. The lieutenant only widened his eyes ever so slightly.

"How… insightful. Here's a face to be printed on our money." The ghoul in human skin turned to look at his men and women, while the other two politely shuffled back into their ranks, Max trying her best to vanish within the crowd, trying to ignore the cement ball that had strapped itself to her stomach. Now that was a memory that would haunt her well into her old age! "Nonetheless… I will dispense with the speech. Most of you know why you're here. We will go to McCarran. And from that point, you will either stay there or be re-assigned to other camps." It seemed pretty inefficient to Max to have everyone walk to a camp instead of going where they were supposed to be from the start, but she did not dare speak up. "The sector is clear of threats. The Legion sticks to Nelson, Vipers knows better, and we will be too close to the camp for the Fiends to even consider attacking. But we will not change direction. I want you to be on your way to your next assignment by tomorrow. We may stop at Novac, but forget meddling with their… quaint Wasteland culture."

"Huh, sir? Why can't we just take those Brahmin trucks again?" Asked the young man with the face wrap. Everyone around him immediately groaned.

"Ah yes, Royes's little tactic… Well, shipment will take a different road to get to Vegas, and it would take too long to discharge out of the wild once we are close enough. Besides, those are not military vehicles. It is already humiliating enough that our troops need to be transported across the desert like cattle… No, you will walk. And you will walk fast enough to reach McCarran by tomorrow. We are leaving-"A ranger with a thick mustache and sunglasses came out of the building on the right, which she guessed was the administrative part of things, and immediately headed towards the Lieutenant, or perhaps just needed to get to the door that the mustachioed man was currently blocking, having elected to stand there to deliver his little speech. Sneaking up on his mark, the ranger whispered in his ear.

"… What?!" Questioned the stern officer, his placid tone making way for prompt fury. "You imbecile! What is it now?! They were lost?! BUT HOW?!"

"Kind of a funny story." Replied the Ranger, sounding more bothered than anything. "The radio says that the guys at McCarran haven't received anything. The Courier we hired decided to cut through Quarry Junction. Thought she could outrun the Deathclaws. Couldn't. Now we've got another guy making his way, but till he makes it, the soldiers can't move in."

"How?! What kind of inept law even dares to keep my soldiers at the gates of the Mojave?! This is a wondrous occasion! These soldiers got here far sooner than they were supposed to, but we're going to let them waste at that Outpost?" She swore, even from that distance, she could see some veins pop over the Lieutenant's wrinkled skin, and he jammed his finger into the Ranger's chest like he wanted to impale him on it. "You think CAESAR has this much trouble getting his boys into that damn desert, Jackson?!" He yelled. Jackson remained calm, emotionless behind those thick sunglasses of his.

"It's to keep track of the recruits. We need to know who we're sending to battles to send the money to. It helps us know who dipped before deployment to use their draft money too. Don't you agree?"

"… Fine. We'll wait!" He swung over to them, pointing at the entire group at once." All of you, stay around. You'll be shot if I see you go one centimeter past the statues, alright? Go waste some of that draft money on drinks." Both men headed back to the outpost, perhaps to talk, and the NCR soldiers looked at one another, terribly confused. Some cracked up but dared not to laugh, all too fearful of the consequences. Max contemplated flipping off the Lieutenant while he was distracted, but decided not to further anger him, fearful that he'd decide to bite her head off.

Instead, she was distracted when Emma wrapped her left arm around Max's shoulder and effortlessly pulled her close, along with that young man from the truck. "Well, we've got time on our hands! I'm paying for drinks for all three of us!" She announced, her more serious tone from earlier gone to the wayside. "Let's get acquainted with the Mojave!"

…

The bar slash barracks unsurprisingly became the new place of residence for the fresh-faced recruits, even though a few decided to fetch some water or supplies out from the disappointed merchands sitting outside. The place itself looked… seedy. The residents came here to get drunk and then collapsed on one of the many available beds nearby. A few of those were members of her squad, who couldn't have slept during the trip and were eager to make up for that while they were seemingly trapped in the outpost.

The woman behind the bar sighed when the troops poured in. Too few drinks for too many mouths guessed Max, who had been in her place a few times before. She walked behind Emma, who took over and commandeered three seats for them. Max sat in the middle, the young man to the left, and the experienced soldier to the right, next to a woman who had seemingly passed out because of the alcohol. She wasn't wearing a uniform, unlike nearly everyone else in the building, and that was significant enough for Max to steal some glances at her. Was she stuck too? She had seen angry Caravaners argue with soldiers outside as well as vehicles left to rot beneath the cruel sun, and NCR paperwork was dreaded for a good reason. It wasn't unusual to see people at the end of their ropes even in the capital, and Max knew that it was "merely" a random drunk that she'd never see again, but she found it hard to just act like she wasn't there. To laugh and discuss while this person was going through some terrible events –or celebrating imprudently-… It was a lot of ask of her.

"Don't worry. She'll wake up and ask for more beer." The woman behind the bar was very much like that ranger from earlier. Pure nonchalance, probably because she's spent a lifetime serving drinks to all kinds of strange people." "Cass over here is the reason why some of you folks are going to need to drink water if you want some refreshment."

"It's fine. I don't drink alcohol anyway." She said. The barmaid tilted her head to the side while looking at her, a bit puzzled perhaps. Max instinctively winced. Was it a code in bars not to buy water, and instead buy some strong alcohol with a fancy name to it?

"Mojave's gonna give you a lot of reasons to start drinking." She said. "But sure. You're still paying after all, and you're one less person likely to start punching when the wrong thing is said." She moved to acquire a fresh glass of water, and the young woman turned to look at her two companions. The man on her left (she needed to know his name, for real) had taken off the face wrap that came with his uniform, and with the somewhat better lighting and absence of a brahmin to mask him to her eyes, she could see that he was a young black man, about her age, with a five o'clock beard on him. That, or he just hadn't shaved in a while. The likeliest possibility since he proceeded to scratch at his chin in annoyance.

"Huh, you don't drink alcohol?" He asked, looking slightly confused. "… Well, that's probably a smart choice when you're a soldier. Don't wanna shoot at the wrong people, right?" He chuckled. "… I saw it happen! Guy got drunk and believed that the Brahmins were whispering to him."

"W-well, it was a decision taken a few years ago." She responded, initially not sure if he'd listen to her since he was having a full-on flashback. "I just don't like the effects it can have on my mind. Huh, body as well, but I do enjoy Nuka Cola and I'm pretty sure it's radioactive." Concluded Max, desperately trying to maintain eye contact. She was reassured when he smiled slightly.

"That's smart. I don't drink too much anyway, but I can handle a bottle of Sasparilla." He turned a little bit to the left as he finished his sentence, and the bar owned agreed, kneeling to acquire some of the drink. "… But it looks like we're staying here for a little while, so I can afford a shot or two!"

"Oh, everyone can afford a shot or two at first!" Answered the younger woman, folding her arms and smirking confidently to hide her fears. She hoped that he wouldn't take this little sting too personally, but his nonchalant shrug was reassuring enough on that matter.

"Touché." Max's eyes briefly widened, and silence settled before he realized why. "Oh right, that's French. It's some Old World tongue. It was apparently hard to learn. They'd put little hats on letters to switch the meanings of some words, like that one." He shifted his posture, looking a bit more interested now. "Touché means "To tag". Because you made a good point."

"Oh, did I?" She said back, almost surprised. Behind her, Emma decided to set down the menu, having found out that the names of most of the drinks that she sought were crossed out.

"So." She looked at the duo, with a glint in her eyes. "Let's trade stories." She offered, motioning for some Sunset Sasparilla as well. As soon as it was even close to her, Emma snatched the bottle and drank it all in one go. Lacey, as the nametag indicated, contemplated her now-empty hand and shrugged. She did frown a bit when Emma threw the bottle over her shoulder, somehow successfully dunking it into a trash can. Shrugging off her feat of accuracy, the private turned to the barmaid and pointed a finger her way. "Cat piss would taste better, and I might get drunk faster off it."

"Huh… You should be careful about drinking here, Emma. You may drop your guard and… well, no place's safe here right?" Warned Max. Her friend only smiled in answer, with a bit of an odd glint to it.

"I just never drop my guard, even when drunk…" She then shifted her weight a little, putting her right elbow on the counter and using her right hand to support her head. "So, storytime. Where do you guys come from? You can keep your secrets if you want. I'll do the same."

"I'll go first!" Said the man, arm raised as it to attract attention. "You can call me Nolan. I was born in the Hub. It was boring yet kinda interesting." He held up a finger and bought his own bottle to his mouth, though he failed to totally empty it as Emma did. "Ahh… So. Yeah. A lot of interesting people can be seen in The Hub. Prospectors, soldiers, mercs, merchants with some old world tech or a new invention, chemists with some new drug to get you high on. And they'd often go to see my parents. Some of the most well-connected people in the city." He tapped on his chest, as if proud. "You want to be somebody in the Hub, you befriend an Osweal. I grew up… heh, pretty neatly. Everyone I cared about was safe from raiders or dangers, money's plentiful and we could afford a lot of stuff that other wastelanders can only dream about. But it was just… too easy, ya know?" He leaned forward a little and drank some more. Emma had closed her eyes, with a wistful smile on her face. Max remained neutral, awaiting the end of his story. "But mom thought this was too easy. Said I needed the maturity and experience to use that fortune wisely, so I could then pass it on to my future kid. So she and dad kicked me out."

"Your parents kicked you out?" Max put her hand around her drink but was too interested to even bother consuming the water for now. He looked awfully nonchalant about it too.

. "Yeah. But they were nice about it, heh. Said who I should go talk to and gave me the warning three months in advance. My goal was to come back with a fortune of my own and a name for myself. In… legal affairs, of course. Not as a slaver, but as a little paragon of morality fit to rule."

"That's a bit harsh, they could've hired people to manage the money for you, or teach you how to!"

"Heh, would've been easier yah … I was quite angry at them as I circled jobs. Even promised me I'd get richer just to spite them. But then I saw that shitty little gecko Ted Gunderson and I realized that I dodged a bullet. I could've been like him, ya know? Hanging unto my parents' coattail and all, acting superior just because of my sires. But taking these jobs as a Brahmin guard, merchant, barman… It taught me a lot about the fine folks in and out of the Hub, and the kind of lives that they lead" He drank again, and Max did the same, almost imitating the gesture. "But… well, I was seeing a part of things. Core Regions are doing pretty well I heard, so I wanted to see life out of them. That, and I was seeing a lot of things but money-wise..." He bit his lip, and she nodded in understanding. "NCR's really militaristic too, so I wanted to see some of it first-hand. I signed up annnnddd now I'm here explaining it all to you ladies." He held his arms out as far as he could and bowed slightly. Max saw fit to applaud him a little, doing so timidly in fear of attracting any attention.

"I thought people would have recognized you by the name." Said, Emma. "Your family sounds pretty influential."

"In the Hub, sure. But they keep to themselves… Huhh, anyhow, I think I'm going to stop before I get too drunk and say things I shouldn't." Max raised a confused eyebrow, but chose not to say anything." What about ya Max?"

"Huh… Well, I was born in Shady Sands, but my parents were not. Dad was from a small town that was independent until the NCR annexed it. The taxes were too much, so he and several others left to try their luck somewhere else prospecting. He and mom met when prospecting." A slightly smile wedged itself unto her face, and she soon grew focused on that cup of water she was holding. "They found some stuff and argued for hours about who found it first. Seriously, they never backed off! They went at it for so long that the others left them behind. And then out of the blue mom kissed him, and they got together." She briefly stopped her tale to continue staring at the water, letting some silence in. Then, Max looked up at both Nolan and Emma, the latter trying to hide her actual interest in the story by looking away. "And they fucked right here. In the ruins!" Nolan spat the Sasparilla he was currently drinking and Emma froze, with a wide smile on her face.

"T-t-hat's too much detail g-geez!" A bemused Nolan stammered, as he used his arm to try to clean up the spill. "And that's seriously unhealthy too! I mean the… you know!"

"I-I know, but… so they sold the stuff together and I was born nine months after that. They were happy, of course! But then came the price of feeding me, and prospecting sites were either dry or being occupied by big companies, so the profit was running out. Mom wanted to go further than California together, but Dad didn't want to. I was too fragile to go there with them and an orphan life… well it's not the best thing. So mom accepted, but it was a little bit more begrudging. So my parents went over town finding jobs. Mom settled a pretty neat one in the bureaucracy, so much that they felt confident having a second kid. And Conrad was born, a year after me. But…Well, she left one day. Packed her money and ran away leaving Shady Sands behind. Dad was pretty devastated but decided to take care of us." She finished her glass and settled it down. "… Then I grew up and joined the army!"

"That's abrupt." Said, Nolan.

"Your dad's a sensitive topic for ya? Is he…" Emma's left hand rose, and she "slashed" her throat with her thumb in a sweeping motion.

"N-no! Yes! Well not in that order, but yeah… Dad is a whole other person, but Mom, well. I don't even know what she looks like, see? I haven't gotten too many memories of her. I know that she kind of looked like me but aside from that, it's a total mystery." Max pointed at her face. "She ran away but I had some 19 years to think about it. She didn't care about me… well, why should I care back heh?"

"Are you really?" Asked Emma, leaning in just a little bit closer. Max frowned, and she could feel her grip tightening on her glass.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. What about you?"

"Huh? Me?" Emma seemed ever so briefly surprised, but shrugged. "Well, there's not much I can say about me… Heh, let's make it funny. What can you tell me? Here. If you can guess something right, all the drinks will be on my tab." She tapped on the counter as if to call forth Lacey. "Hear that?"

"If you run away on me after saying that, I'm shooting you."

"… W-well. You seem to be pretty knowledgeable about the wastes and especially the Mojave. You know some military jargon, huh… Hey Nolan, help me out please!"

"You get very tense whenever a lieutenant speaks, but you speak pretty ill of the army at times. So I guess that you… hmm…" Nolan began to stroke an invisible beard, while Max turned around to point at Emma.

"So… Let me guess, huh, you grew up out of the Core Regions or in the parts that aren't as safe as the rest of 'em. You got the experience from that. The NCR showed up, annexed the place, you had to leave and because you need some dollars, you decided to join the army! And I guess that in your town, respect with the higher-ups was key, so that's why you're so serious."

"… A nice try." Emma smiled ear to ear. "But it's not exactly that! Since you did a pretty good stab at it though, let me tell you, I was" Before she could conclude it, the doors swung open with the force and shock of a thunderbolt, causing quite a few unfortunate souls to spit out their drinks or jump out of their tables. Even Lacey was briefly frightened, her startled jump hurling the drink she was carrying straight into the ceiling. Such a fierce kick could only belong to a fierce man, and the Lieutenant stood at the gates like he was entering Caesar's own tent to battle the tyrant to death.

"MEN! GET READY!"

…

The Courier was a tall black woman, with not a single strand of hair on her head but quite a few scars on the scalp to make up for it. She probably looked pretty despite them, but all that soot and blood on her face made it hard to see what she looked like. Her clothes looked like they had been "borrowed" from a dead Powder Ganger, judging by the ballistic vest and torn pants and shirt on it. She was leaning against the wall outside the bar, leaning her head to the side to get some light for her cigarette, thanking the trooper who helped her out with a nod.

"I didn't wander through Deathclaw territory." She grunted, advising Ranger Jackson. "I don't know what your comms told you, but I had to cut through Powder Ganger territory. The disguise worked well until these idiots remembered that it was an all-male correctional facility in the first place. I've had some dynamites thrown at me, but that's never prevented me from performing a task. A Viper ambush allowed me to give them the slips. Be careful with sending troops the way of that old gas station by the way."

"So it WAS a falsified report." Lieutenant Deacon had regained his emotionless composure, but the joy in his tone was obvious to anyone with working ears. He stood next to Jackson and shot him a glare. "Bah. Sensitive documents like these should never be given off to one person anyway! A Courier who could've died at any moment and incompetent radio officers! What a delightful duo to introduce me to the Mojave!" The mustached man threw his arms into the air and walked away, back to the troops gathered in front of the Outpost. Nolan was surprisingly tipsy, but Max had placed herself to his left to hold him up by pressing her shoulder against his right rib. Another trooper, seeing her efforts, had discreetly done the same.

"Heh. We Couriers die hard, right? The story of the guy with the bullet in his head was all over the news." The woman surely had more to say, but Max's attention snapped back to Lt. Deacon.

"We can now go to the Mojave, effective immediately! The road to Novac will be short, but some of you will get the opportunity to improve on your marksmanship a little." He pointed below, down the way that led to the rest of the desert. "There'll be two squads! The first squad, get rid of those giant ants down the road! Do it quickly enough and there'll be one less reason for Ranger Jackson to justify blocking our caravans at the Outpost." He then joined his hands beneath his back. «The second squad will go to Nipton and clear the road ahead of any Vipers. We'll stop and wait for the first squad to catch up, and then it's time to head to Novac." Untying his hand, the Lieutenant held his right one up above his head and then did a vertical downward motion, "cleaving" the unit in half. Emma and her friends were on the left of the rassemblement, to her relief: They'd be together.

"First squad." He pointed at the left part. "Kill the bugs. Second squad, head up with me."

…

And now, here she was. A bit more than a week ago, she was skipping in the streets of Shady Sands, awaiting an occasion to prove herself to the unknown world outside. And now here she was, smelling that Nevada air, bitter even without the rads. It still felt bizarre to walk down that road dressed in the uniform of the NCR, with an assault rifle in hands. She's held it. Fired it too, but walking with it still felt new. It's probably what young adults like Max felt like when they smoked their first cigarette or earned enough dollars to owe themselves a car (rare as it still was here). Like they had all that power in their hands, and now truly belonged to the world of the grown-ups.

Hold up, dangerous thoughts ahead. Warned a little voice deep within her. She liked it. It sounded similar to her own, but more confident, without the little skips in her speech. It's not a toy. It's a weapon, the little things it shoots can take lives. Will take lives, too. So make sure those are bad lives, huh?

Max nodded to herself, stopping briefly when she realized how silly the gesture was. To try to make herself look more focused than she really was, she decided to look around, studying the wrecked cars left all over the road. Most had been pushed off to the side, but a few heavier ones remained, being perhaps too push for a team of conscripts to push around altogether with their bare hands. It looked like some were stuck directly to the asphalt as if 200 years of desert heat had caused some odd fusion between steel and road. But what mattered was not the ruined vehicles, but rather what could hide within. She imagined the dreaded Frumentariis, the Legion's best spies, awkwardly crammed inside or below the vehicles, their hateful eyes set upon the brave troopers, waiting to ambush them once their attention was turned away.

Everyone else thought the same. The silence was dreadful like an attack was imminent even when the outpost was still visible in the distance.

"Hey." Interrupted a voice, cutting through the silence with the grace of a Deathclaw ramming its way through walls. Most Troopers almost jumped off the ground, Max included and would've certainly shot the intruder to death if they were more coordinated. As it stood, most of the soldiers flailed about, looking for Frumentariis or particularly smart Fiends. Emma and a few others remained calm and settled in a direction altogether, eventually being noticed by their fellow soldiers, who promptly turned to look their way.

It was that Courier, somehow bold enough to decide that startling a troop of inexperienced recruits was a good idea. Was she not afraid of being riddled with bullets, especially when she was already covered in all those bandages?

"I'm lookin' for a light. Any of ya got some lighter?" She asked, casually waltzing up to them. As it happened, Max was the closest to her, so her eyes eventually settled on the young soldier. "… Nah, you do not look like a smoker." The exact same trooper waltzed forth, his lighter at the ready, and the young woman once again leaned in to light up her cigarette. "Thanks, private… too dark to read."

"You know that you could've gotten shot at, right?" Emma said her tone as threatening as an assault rifle. "Couriers shouldn't be this suicidal. Don't want bullets to damage that precious mail, hm?"

"Hm, maybe, maybe. I'm desensitized to danger anyhow." The woman set forward, not even turning to look at Emma. "… Any of ya got loved ones at Goodsprings? I've got space for love letters or death threats in my bag."

"N-no. But… Why would you even go there? You look like… like a mummy, from those pre-war movies!" Max intervened.

"Hm? Well, I took too much time here. And there's a bonus if I deliver mail on schedule. I like caps as it turns out, so off to Goodsprings I go." She picked up the pace quickly, having gotten what she wanted. "If you spooks got any letter to send home, you know who to rely on for later!" And like that, the Courier was off, wandering into the wastes at night, though ghouls, Vipers, Powder Gangers, and beasts. Who would willingly do all of this as their job? Max briefly felt hypocritical, but she didn't really bother to know why. After all, there were giant ants to slaughter. And they were getting close to them, by the smell of things. Most of the soldiers in her squad started to put up their face wraps, though Emma and about two other soldiers were unfazed by the stench, even taking it in big breaths. This convinced the young private not to put on her own face warp. Sure, the air smelled like vomit left beneath the harsh Mojave sun, with the helpful addition of rot and death to it but… If anything, it seemed like that kind of smell was common across the Wastes. And to toughen up, she had to get used to it.

Her face scrunched up as she had just eaten something very sour, but thankfully no one noticed. Instead, they carefully headed east, towards the destroyed overpass. "Careful with the rest stop. I was told that there's some radscorpions dwelling there." Emma said, apparently taking command in the absence of the Lieutenant. "Watch out from behind. They could try attacking us."

"Shouldn't we get rid of them as well then?" Asked a random voice, which she failed to recognize. "Or do we bother with the ants only?"

"Ants are what we're out there to kill. If we were meant to kill the Radscorpions, then they didn't bother adding that. Either way, we'll do what we're told to do." As she spoke, Emma moved her hand to a belt she had tied around her waist and casually undid a strap on it, before grabbing the gun she kept on it. In a flourish meant for the spectators, the dark-haired woman pulled out a large silver revolver. Now, Max was not someone who really had much knowledge of guns. She knew that they went in various sizes and names, but all weapons of a category were just "shotgun", "assault rifle", "sniper rifle" to her. What mattered in the weapon, for her, was simply if it could shoot bullets. But yet she could tell, with her naive eye, that this one revolver was one-of-a-kind. It was clean, a rarity amongst most weapons in the Wasteland. It had some black engravings on it, taking the form of vines running over the weapon's long cannon and part of the handle. And it had ammo along with it, whereas a lot of rarer weapons had ammo that was either gone or rather costly due to the difficulty in producing it.

It was almost a shame that a weapon like this would be used to kill giant ants, she thought.

"… So let's go."

The little group walked over to the underpass. Some had turned around to try to look out for Radscorpions but found that the beasts were asleep or somehow smart enough to deduce that attacking the soldiers would result in a fatal case of lead poisoning. As for the main threat, the ants, they were swarming over the collapsed underpass, in the middle of feasting on the rotting flesh of a brahmin and its former owners. Already saddened by such sight, Max was further disgusted to see the writhing bodies of the ants crawling all over the caravans or destroyed cars of the underpass. Some were even a bit larger than said cars, though they stood still unlike their spastic lackeys. Thankfully, whatever they were doing did not involve looking up, or else they'd be aware of the troopers contemplating them. The sight seemed to have snapped Nolan out of his drunken daze, and he stood next to Max, quietly contemplating what he was about to fight.

Their guns suddenly made them a lot less confident. As if the bullets would bounce off that exoskeleton of theirs.

"Don't panic." Emma walked over to the edge and pointed. "Let's be quick about things. Ants are big and slow, so they're more like target practices. Don't let them get close and aim for their heads, use the high ground. Their antennas are also weak spots but you won't hit them, so be efficient. "She held her revolver up and spun its cylinder, keeping an eye on the ants to avoid being unwittingly jumped on. "What matters is that you kill them. Do it plainly. Do it fancily. It doesn't matter to me, alright? Alright. Placed yourselves into a line. Form some space between yourselves, and wait for my first shot."

The soldiers moved together to form a line, sometimes stumbling along or presenting the occasional apology. Below, the ants were starting to hear the noise, and Max was aware that there remained drastically little time for her to steady herself. It was only giant ants but… damn it, it was her first battle! She couldn't mess this up!

"Remember BRASS. Breath. Relax. Aim. Stop… Squeeze? Yeah, squeeze." She held her gun the right way, grasped her weapon not too tightly, kept both eyes open and breath slowly, in and out. She pictured herself holding a BB gun and shooting at dumb dummies, not disgusting predators with pincers the size of her arm and too many legs. Too many crawling little legs, too…

A single bullet was shot, briefly casting the entire area in a burst of light. The bullet tore through the air at extreme speed, aiming for the largest of the Ants around. A fine choice, because of its huge size and relative immobility, but the projectile narrowly missed it by a few centimeters. Instead of hitting it square in its big ugly black eyes or deformed mandibles, the bullet cut through the antennas of the mutant insect, before lodging itself deep into the concrete wall at the right of the creature. Obviously a waste of precious ammo, at a first glance, but before any protest could be made the giant ant immediately lashed out, leaping into one of its smaller brethren and crushing it whole beneath its mass. Motivated by the violence, the soldiers moved in, ready to dish out some of their own.

Max shot in careful bursts at the head of the nearest ant below her, the visceral satisfaction outweighing the disgust felt when the beast's head popped open like a grape. Remembering not to get too excited, the young woman ignored the noises to the best of her ability. While most of the other soldiers were emptying their bullets into the creatures, she tried her best to keep it to short precise bursts. Whenever an ant would try to mount a counter-attack by climbing up the walls, she'd promptly shoot it in the head with a burst of three bullets, killing the insect before it could even begin its journey.

It wasn't perfect. Sometimes, the bullets struck the ground without harming the ants. At other times, she hit it in the body but not the head, necessitating another burst or the intervention of a soldier to complete the job. But she didn't dwell on that. She was almost in auto-pilot, letting her arms maneuver her gun around and lightly squeeze on the trigger while her brain was doing its best to suppress any superfluous thoughts. Emma temporarily became null and void. So did Nolan, or the world outside of this underpass: What mattered was the ants, and how many of them would remain by the time her magazine would empty. She registered that she had allies at least though. So sometimes, she'd let a weakened ant meet its end by the gunfire of another.

Before soon, the underpass was cleared of ants. Even the mightiest of them had been easily felled by gunfire… Though a few soldiers kept shooting into the mound, to try to make sure that they were dead. Not an entirely unwise decision in the Wastes. Max herself remained hyper-focused on the road below, judging the view from her iron sights, expecting one of the ants to crawl its way out of the mass at the last moment, or suddenly attack her after flanking the entire platoon.

"… Wow, good work Max!" Emma's voice snapped her out of her trance, and Max looked up to see the improvised leader standing over her, with a confident hand placed on the younger soldier's shoulder. Behind her, the various soldiers were forming into groups congratulating each other, pleased with their effortless victory. "I'll admit, I was curious to see how you were going to do and… You blew past my expectations! You've learned BRASS very well and what you did to those ants." She pointed below, to the mass of scattered insect limbs and bullet-filled bodies. "… I want to see ya do it to Caesar's cattle and the Fiends! You fine with that challenge?" Emma held her hand out, and Max briefly looked at it before grabbing it, being held up to her feet by the soldier soon afterward.

"W-well… hah!" Pvt. Doleetle chuckled, embarrassed at the compliment. "I'm… only using what you taught me! But some guy or gal managed to get that giant ant into a frenzy, did ya see it? It was awesome!"

Emma made a wry smile. "Oh, did they?" The private whistled, spinning her revolver on her right index. Once she was satisfied with that trick, she stopped it, blew on the smoking cannon, and slid the cylinder to the side, letting the discarded bullets fall to the ground. The realization made Max's eyes widen like saucers. "Ya should give me her ID. Bet she's a pretty amazing person! We could use her help for the next part!" She looked down at the mound of gore. "… We're going to need to remove those ants. It's why we're playing catch-up to the other guys, see? Caravaners can't pass otherwise. Ants are blocking the way alive or dead."

"W-what, really?!" Nolan rushed from his own group, his rifle slung over his shoulder. "We're going to need to… Some are, well, as big as the wreckage below!" He protested. He glanced at Max to find an ally in his endeavor, but his new acquaintance was glancing at the ground with a neutral expression on her face like she was looking for smaller ants to step on.

Emma made an amused smile and held up one finger. "Heh, lesson uno: It's the grunts that deal with the disgusting shit. Well. Some of us will hold guard. That firefight made a lot of noises. Might want to keep Vipers or other critters away."

"Well, I volunteer! And I guess Max does too! Right, Max?" The soldier snapped to attention.

"N-no, it's fine! I need to muscle up anyway!" Slinging her rifle over to the shoulder via a rope, the young woman did a flexing gesture with her arms, chuckling slightly. "I'm thin as a malnourished ghoul! I gotta put on muscles, right?" Emma yanked her thumb up in approval and turned around to discuss with other soldiers. Once she was sufficiently far away, Max's smile dropped just as brutally as her arms did. She had known that only she could take such a shot in the first place but… was there such a difference between them? It wasn't surprising. The older woman had roamed the wastes longer, but still. She had done such an accurate shot in the dark. Even with a big static target like that, that wasn't the easiest thing in the world, especially since she was aiming for a precise point!

It was scary to Max because Emma was just one Wastelander amongst many. Those who could tame the Wastes. The Legionaries, the Fiends, the Khans, unaffiliated roamers, would they be as good as her, if not better?

"… Are you okay, Max? You seem a little, huh, sad. But ya know." Nolan intervened, clearing his throat. "Those ants weren't innocent animals at all! So no need to get… antsy over them !"

"… Y-yeah, they weren't! Anyway." Max turned to Nolan and put her hands on her hips. He was tall, she realized. Enough that she almost needed to crack her neck. "Why don't you help me move those ants around? I don't think I'll have too many helpers around!" He immediately grimaced, as if someone had sneaked ice cubes into his face wrap.

"W-well, I gotta watch out for Vipers! Bye!" He ran off, leaving Max all alone to stand there, her mind deep in thoughts…

"Antsy ? Like… oh. Hahaha !"

Rumors persist about a Super Mutant refuge nestled high in a ski lodge to the Northwest.

If you should find it. Do not –I repeat- do not belittle a Super Mutant for taking the bunny slope!

And speaking of ski. I've got some more tracks coming your way right now! In this quiet evening, Sinatra would like to talk to us about that big moon up in the sky. His… "Blue Moon".

…

Second chapter's out! Max made some friends, and is venturing fine in the Mojave, but what kind of dangers await her? Mojave's more than just giant ants, as most of you probably know!

I'm not quite sure of the time for travels, but I just wanted to get to the gist of things quickly! Aside from the turbo-brahmin caravans, I do plan on sticking as close to the lore as possible though! Well though. I'll admit, I've got plans for a certain car to make an apparition in the coming chapters. But I doubt Max's got her driver license.

What did you think of this chapter? Reviews help me out a lot! So send them my way if you have anything to say!

See ya next week!