Important Author's Note

I've been loving the feedback I've been getting so far, both in reviews and private messages. But I want to take a moment to clarify something about this story while it's still early on: It is NOT about the NCR invading the Special Region. It's about a military force greater than the total population of the New Vegas invading and how it is dealt with. It will end when the last Imperial forces are killed or retreat back to their world.

I've read plenty of crossovers too and I know that's a favorite, but I don't find it particularly applicable to the Fallout series. It's hard to refuse that they would want to, the simple fact is they can't. The manpower and tech level here is much, much lower, in logistics if not weapons.

For additional context, by the map provided in the GATE material, the Imperial Capital is roughly 300 miles away from the portal on Alnus Hill. New Vegas is roughly 250 miles from the core regions of the NCR. If the NCR can't even handle a war in the Mojave that distance away, a total invasion twice that distance away will fare no better.

I'm sorry if that disappoints some people, but I still hope I will be able to entertain with what I have already planned.

Courier six kept his eyes out for any more weird things as he jogged. He found a few more horses, all geared up in the same way as the others. One he found laying sideways on the road, bleeding out and making pitiful noises to express its pain and suffering. It looked like it had been shot. Another had the bottom half of a body still on its saddle, cut savagely a little above the stomach, he wagered. He knew of only one creature that could do that-Deathclaws.

Were they a raiding party that had ridden up past Sloan to burn some of the towns this way? NCR was lightly spread in the region, but they were still heavy near Vegas. If the Legion wanted to cause trouble, the easiest targets would be out here. But how had this many gotten over the river? The only easy way across was Hoover Dam, and the other was going over the mountains and rough ground North of Lake Mead. There weren't any other ways the Courier figured the Legion could cross and end up at that stretch of I-15.

Unless they really weren't the Legion. But that was going to be his default thought until he knew more.

Sloan eventually came into sight. Even for a man in his prime implanted with some of the best medical tech the Followers of the Apocalypse and the Big MT could produce, he was still winded. He slowed to a walk, but kept a purposeful stride, and looked for people.

There was a single twelve foot wide sandbag wall near the center of the road, and a bunch of ancient white and orange traffic barriers were scattered around like they'd been laid out and then knocked over. Horses and more Legion-looking soldiers were scattered dead across the whole road, but most were fallen near the wooden fence that separated the highway from the little alcove where the shacks were built. For some reason, that section of fence was surrounded by scrap metal and other junk that had never been there before.

As he approached, he hopped over the fence. Sloan was just a collection of four shacks the NCR had built on the closest bit of open land they could find near the quarry-one for the workers to sleep, one for them to eat, a machine room, and an office. In the very back, near the office, he spotted an old truck, an old elaborately dressed ghoul, an eyebot, and most interestingly, a couple of horses. The eyebot noticed him first and zipped over, beeping excitedly.

"ED-E." Six gave his little buddy a few pats on his metal side. "Miss me?" ED-E beeped in the affirmative and then let off a stream of inquisitive beeps. "10-4, little buddy." It beeped happily. He was going to walk over to the ghoul next, but then he took notice of three pairs of legs sticking out from the scrap pile on the fence. Leather boots and the unmistakable brown hued uniform of the NCR Army.

That mess of scrap covering the fence was actually an improvised firing shelter. Six ducked down and saw three troopers, two with service rifles and one with a light machine gun, lying prone on the dirt, guns pointing out through the fence at the flat highway in front of them.

"Working hard?" All of them jumped when the Courier ducked his way in and squeezed in between two of them.

"Holy shit. Don't do that." One of them panted.

"Sorry." Six threw his hands up for a moment. The NCR as a whole was a big bloated mess full of problems and he wasn't fond of it. But the average person who just wanted a good life? The poor average soldier who more likely than not got his ass dragged out here forcefully to risk his life? He cared about them. "You boys alright?"

"Hell no. Legion came barreling at us hard on those...those things. Shot a bunch of them and they just kept coming. They killed one of my men."

"So, you're in charge?" The Courier asked.

"Yes. I'm Corporal Bendez." The soldier who'd been talking to him this whole time looked him over in the tight quarters. "And I'm guessing you're that Courier."

"Woah!" A voice exclaimed, and Six turned to the man on his other side. On the other side of that man was a young looking NCR trooper with goggles and a helmet. "You're the Courier that killed Caesar?" He asked excitedly.

"Among other things." Six reached up and over the soldier next to him and offered his hand to the excited private, who vigorously shook it. He turned back to the corporal. "Did the Legion invade again? How'd they get this many miles across the river?" Him and his companions had been further South for a few days, but he really doubted things could've gone to hell that fast.

"No clue. They just showed up from the North."

"And you didn't hear anything from your commanders? You guys got a radio, don't you?"

"We didn't have time to radio in." The corporal explained. "Those things are fast. It should be still out there by the sandbags."

"So it's out there?" Under the gas mask, Six raised his eyebrows. "On the empty highway?" He hung his head for a moment and shook it before worming himself backwards and out of the makeshift shelter. Wiping his carbine off just in case any sand had gotten on it, Six hopped over the fence again and strode onto the highway. Corpses didn't smell pretty, human or animal, but the ones around Sloan had been under the sun just long enough to stink worse.

There was a table and a few chairs at the sandbag wall. And to the right of it, Courier Six noticed the body of an NCR trooper for the first time, practically stuck under the body of another horse. He hadn't been shot; he looked like he'd been decapitated, and a bloody lance not too far away from both the body and the horse told the rest of the story. Now that he specifically looked, there were a lot of lances laying around, again finely made.

After looking some more, he found the radio pack under the table and lifted it out, setting it down with a hard 'thunk'. It was about then that the corporal and excited private he'd talked with came out of the shelter, cautiously approaching the edge of the highway. Not seeing anything, both of them started to come over, tiptoeing their way over through the gore and over the bodies. They picked up the pace the closer they got to the center. Corporal Bendez hurried up to the radio and yanked the receiver up to his ear. While he started punching buttons and dials, the private made his way reluctantly over to the dead soldier. He'd looked green just walking over here, but he looked a lot more pale now.

"Friend of yours?" Six asked.

"Uh...Roberts." He gestured to the body. "We weren't really friends, but we saw each other every day…"

"Yeah, I get that." The Courier nodded and moved over to the body before kneeling down. "C'mon, help me lift this thing." He put his hands under the horse. The private set his rifle down and put his own hands under the horse's upper body, near the neck. "One, two, three…" The pair of men grunted as they started to lift. This thing was heavy as hell. Some of it was probably the armor and saddle, but most of it was probably sheer muscle mass. Using his shoulder to keep it up once they lifted it enough, Courier Six used his free hand to grab the body by its body armor and pull it out from under. The legs looked mangled, probably crushed by the weight of the horse.

"Oh man…" The private's face started to turn green again. All the blood and gore, and now seeing his comrade up close was the final straw. He turned and vomited. Six gave him a sympathetic pat on the back as he passed.

"Right, copy that. Standing by…" The corporal was hanging up the receiver.

"What's the news?" The Courier stopped.

"A patrol from Camp McCarren got attacked too. Somewhere in South Vegas. We're waiting for them to tell the colonel and then we'll get new orders." The corporal told him. Six nodded.

"Have fun with that. I think I'm going to go have a look for myself." He walked past. He felt the corporal's eyes on the back of his head, but he ignored it. Without any distractions this time, Courier Six beelined straight for his 'posse' as people popularly called it.

"Hey boss. I was starting to think you found new friends." Raul said as he ran a hand along the side of one of the tethered horses' faces. ED-E beeped sadly.

"Of course not." Six told the vaquero dressed ghoul. "There's no one in the wasteland I'd rather hang out with then you two." He threw his hands out. But after responding to the old ghoul's joke, he started to examine the horses more closely. Having only seen them at a distance or laying down dead, he was a little surprised by how tall they were standing. But of course, they'd have to be that big to carry a man. Six crossed his arms and did a slow walk around the creatures, admiring the sheer amount of muscles under the armor. The art and toys hadn't told him just how big those would be.

"I wouldn't stand there, boss." Raul warned him as he passed behind them. "Unless you want to. Maybe your next head injury will give you superpowers. Horses kick hard." He added the important information at the end.

"Hmm...It'd be useful if I could fly." Six humored him while he strolled to the front of the beasts. "These things don't look mutated."

"They aren't." Raul stated, then clarified, "Or if they are, it isn't obvious. These are healthy horses, boss. Hell, might be healthier than the ones we raised; getting supplies for them wasn't always easy." The Courier reached up to feel the side of one's face with a gloved hand. It was fretful, but it let him. "Horses take a lot to care for. I have no idea how someone got this many."

"They look like Legion. Troopers over there think it's Legion. But I'm not sure. Are there wild horses out in Arizona?" He asked. Courier Six had been many places, but he honestly hadn't been that deep into Arizona. Or if he had, he didn't remember.

"Boss, I spent a lifetime in Arizona. I never saw a horse in the wild. I never saw anyone riding them. Hell, I don't think anyone in Tucson even knew what a horse was." The Mexican ghoul paused for a moment to seemingly recollect. "Wild horses were always an American thing though, a little further North than Arizona. So maybe that's where they got them."

"This many?" The Courier asked.

"Pretty sure animals outnumber humans, boss." Raul shrugged. That was true.

"Maybe they integrated a tribe with these things." Courier Six theorized. They'd integrated that tribe from Colorado that gave them most of their attack dogs. "Head North or Northeast, and it's all just tribals. If there are horses out there, the tribals would've figured something to do with them.

"Maybe." Raul shrugged. Six shrugged too. It was a curiosity, but not all that important right now.

"Anyway, NCR says these things came up from the quarry, but I don't think they're Legion. I'm going to go check it out."

"Yeah. Horses spook easily. I saw the whole thing, boss." Raul gestured towards the firing shelter. "Most of them weren't even going for the soldiers; they were just fleeing. Bisono out there panicked and just started shooting. It was like a massacre."

"Yeah, they're good at that."

"Want us to come with you, boss?" Raul moved away from the horses and towards the truck.

"Nah." Six stopped him. "I'll go on my own." ED-E beeped in alarm. "I'm just doing recon, and one person is harder to notice. I'll be right back." He gave ED-E another pat. "Keep the workers here safe." The hovering eyebot rocked back and forth in an approximation of a nod. "And you can keep an eye on the horses." He turned back to Raul. "We should keep a few of these around. Could be useful."

"I had the same idea." Raul nodded, sounding a little impressed at his boss' ingenuity. "Brahmin are good, but horses are faster on rough terrain. Seriously, life will be a whole lot better for a lot of people if they had horses. Only problem is, these are both males." He jerked a thumb at the two creatures. One snorted like it knew they were talking about it.

"We'll figure that out later." There were other priorities. "I'll head out and be back soon." Six turned and walked towards the truck.

The truck was something they'd had for only the past couple of weeks, and had its origins in a drinking binge on the Strip. In no uncertain terms, Cass, Raul, and Six had all been having a drunken dick measuring contest over who was the most badass, which could be pretty hard to win when you weren't completely sure about what you'd done in the past 20 or so years of your life. Raul had mentioned street racing cars back when he was a teenager pre-war, and insisted that had made him the coolest kid ever back then, especially with the 'senioritas'.

Motor vehicles were a lot more common back in California. Government officials, brahmin barons, and agriculture barons usually had cars, there was a bus service in Shady Sands, and some companies that exclusively moved goods within the NCR borders even had trucks. Any private citizen could buy one if they wanted, although for many it wasn't useful to do so. You didn't find them out here in the frontier all that often; getting parts and maintenance were harder, and the roads were almost always shot. In fact, the NCR Army's transport trucks in McCarren had probably been the only other vehicles in the whole Mojave Wasteland.

They'd spent a good while arguing if that was cooler than outrunning an artillery barrage or leading a caravan through a dust storm and just got on with their night. They drank some more, they joked around, someone shot a wall at some point, and then for whatever reason got back on that subject. It was hard to remember, but for whatever reason the three of them (plus ED-E) got the crazy idea to try and put together a working truck from scrap. Six just wanted to see if they could pull it off, Raul had decided having wheels again would be nice and wanted to see if he still remembered how to work on them, and Cass was just bored as hell.

So, they'd started snatching up parts and scrap during their constant wandering. Once they'd found a frame Raul concluded was intact enough, they'd rented a couple of brahmin to drag it back to his shack. Raul took the lead on that, since he was the only one of them that actually knew how these things were put together. Six and Cass would go find more bits, and Raul would work on it. Slowly, but surely, they started to have something that could pass as a car and not a pile of junk. They even built an engine that could start.

Tires were the last thing they had to find, and those were a bitch. Those things had been rationed prewar, and none of them had survived two centuries in a wasteland. Literally the only place to get them made now was specialty shops back in California. Cass came through for them there, getting the contacts and contract sorted out. It cost a lot of caps, but they had those to spare, and they came as some of the civilian cargo on one of the trains. They put those on, and hey presto, they had a truck.

It was ugly as all hell and could only hit 40 MPH max, but she could go anywhere and was still faster than any of their legs. They even had a lockbox in the back to carry stuff. It made life so much easier, even if they had to shoot more than a couple of people trying to steal it. Raul was extremely fond of it.

In the bed of the truck was a pile of duffel bags-the gear Raul had left to get back in Nipton. The original plan was to fight deathclaws, and deathclaws were no joke. So they needed all the heavy firepower they owned, and they had a lot. He set his trail carbine down and rummaged around until he found something specific: An anti-material rifle. He'd put down two gold bars for a lot of the artillery in this truck, and this was probably the one he got the most money's worth. This massive rifle fired .50 caliber rounds and was his preferred sniper weapon. Anything human, abomination, or even power armor wearing wasn't going to shake it off. He grabbed an extra magazine full of explosive rounds, bid his companions and the NCR troopers farewell, and set off.

Time to see with his own eyes what was really going on.

For Colonel Hsu, the war with the Legion ending did not mean his workload got lighter. In fact, it was probably bigger even if it was narrower in scope. He wasn't worried about spies, saboteurs, or violent gangs anymore. He really only had two responsibilities now: trooper accountability, and civil build up.

Even before the annexation, the NCR Army had more or less been the governing body for the civilian settlements in the Mojave, NCR or independent. Security, water allotment, all that. Now that annexation was official, they were doing that full time, amongst other things. General Oliver was in charge, but him and Brigadier Moore seemed to spend their entire days looking East, towards the Legion's lands. That left all the nation building in the Mojave more or less up to Hsu.

The biggest thing he was up to right now was trying to build a proper civilian police force-the New Vegas Police Department. Something the politicians back home wanted set up quickly to keep the new state capital stable so they could ship all the army soldiers somewhere else. Training and equipment wasn't an issue, believe it or not. The Mojave deployment had a decent surplus for once after it retrieved all the gear from its fallen. No new troops had been sent out-only replacements-and the Army didn't ask for them to send the surplus back, so they just kept it. For the first time in years, everyone had a proper weapon and enough ammunition, and they still had some to hand off. The issue was manpower. They'd gotten a decent number of members from the Westside Militia to sign up, but nowhere near enough to cover all of New Vegas minus the strip. The people who were immigrating sure weren't coming to be policemen, and either the wages weren't enough to motivate the locals or they still just hated the NCR. Probably the latter.

Security and policing for the city at large still remained Hsu's responsibility for the most part, as well as every other settlement in the region. Novac wasn't on that list...yet. If Nipton or any other settlement further South had trouble, Hsu could order a platoon-40 soldiers- from the Mojave outpost to deploy. He still kept a whole company-86 soldiers-permanently in the airport. The rest of his combat forces-three platoons of various headcounts totaling 117-were spread around mostly in North and East Vegas where the settlers were.

Hsu was responsible for that too: signing off on the land and property grants. South Vegas had a lot of dilapidated offices, and West Vegas had old industrial areas. Companies from the rest of the NCR were just moving into those areas and fixing them up for repurposing. Most of the settlers moving in from the NCR were settling in East New Vegas, which had been mostly suburbs and houses before the war anyway. They'd finally been able to close down both Camp Bitter Springs and the Aerotech offices thanks to the annexation.

The sharecropper farm was gone. They'd been about to shutter it anyway, because it wasn't making its quotas, but Hsu had gotten a communication from Shady Sands ordering him to quickly and discreetly help the farmers set up shop elsewhere. Apparently the old farm was built over a Vault, Vault 34, that was contaminating the ground with radiation and ruining the crop. Hsu had done as told, helping the farmers move to some smaller suburbs further North and get water and security. But the letter reeked of politics, and he suspected the government wanted to save face from having given its citizens poor land to farm on. The Followers were the ones that officially reported the incident, but Hsu had a hunch someone else (and he knew who) had discovered the problem. A team of specialists from Vault City were supposed to arrive and check it out, along with determining if Vault 3 was possible to fix up and use. When though, was anyone's guess.

It was still a lot to keep up with, less than 300 soldiers and police officers for over 4000 civilians and a lot of miles of road. The Brotherhood of Steel was at least helping with the latter. It was a strange time to live in. But when the most common crime was public drunkeness, there wasn't a lot to be seriously concerned about.

Until today.

Colonel Hsu had started his day, as usual, before the sun came up and with several cups of coffee. He had a lot of paperwork to deal with about a potential big move. Some pretty big figures back home were looking for a lot of land to ranch on near the mountains West of the city. A lot of acres, a lot of brahmin, and as many as 500 workers. Again, a really big move. But there was a lot of stuff about safety concerns, since that was really close to Jacobstown, that supermutant settlement that wasn't included in the annexation. He'd been penning a response, quite plainly telling one prospective buyer that no, the Army had no intention of 'removing' the settlement, when an anxious looking private came in to deliver a message.

"Colonel, one of our patrols was just ambushed and wiped out." Hsu immediately abandoned the paperwork and got up. Camp McCarren still did patrols of South Vegas, at least to where the I-15 officially entered the city. Ever since the fiends were all butchered, their patrols had been going smoothly, and really just existed to kick out squatters. Even during the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam, the fighting never got close to them. This was the first incident all year.

"It was a four man patrol, colonel." The tech sergeant that oversaw their communications room-a repurposed VIP lounge- explained. "They were returning to base and saw something coming up behind them fast. They reported that, we heard gunfire, and then we lost all contact."

"Where?" Colonel Hsu asked. Above all the tables with radios, there was a big map of the city and surrounding areas, creatively edited by the soldiers to show important areas.

"They didn't have time to say. None of the Southern watchtowers radioed in about seeing anything. They must've been close to the edge of the city." Close the edge...Hsu stared. South Vegas' only problem had been fiends, and they were long gone. Was it a raider gang? Was it a ambush by angry locals? If it was the latter, things were going to get really bad here. Since they'd been sharing their resources, none of the locals had been violently angry. But you could never tell…

While Hsu pondered on that and what to do, Captain Johanson, the officer promoted to head the company after its previous commander had been outed as a Legion spy and promptly thrown from the airport control tower, was led into the room and had the situation explained to him. Having weighed all the options, Hsu made his choice.

"Captain, gather up the rest of that platoon. I want you to personally lead them on a forceful recon along that patrol route. Find out what happened to that patrol, engage if necessary, and radio here immediately." Hsu needed to find out what happened. But for now, he wouldn't inform General Oliver.

"Yes sir." The Captain immediately left to gather his men. Hsu grabbed a spare chair and took a seat, intent to not leave until he knew what was going on. And while he waited, before Captain Johanson even left, a different kind of chaos suddenly enveloped the airport: Running and shouting. Hsu got up and exited the communication room, which was on the second floor, and looked down into the main lobby. Dozens of soldiers were running in from outside, some not fully dressed and some not even with their weapons and armor.

"What's going on?!" Colonel Hsu shouted into the crowd below. When he didn't get an answer, Hsu hurried down with his sidearm drawn to go see for himself. As he passed through the front doors, someone stretched and arm across his chest and pushed him back.

"Be careful, colonel." It was Major Dhatri, the officer who commanded Camp McCarren as a whole. The man had his own pistol out and was pointing it at the sky. A couple of other soldiers had pressed themselves against the front of the terminal building, where there was a small overhang to stand under. Like the major, any of the ones with their weapons were pointing towards the sky.

"Major, what's going on out here?"

"Wildlife, sir." The Major answer. Colonel Hsu cautiously leaned forward and looked up, and then ducked back just as quickly. Something large was flying low circles above the parking lot. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was huge-a major red flag- and it looked like it was hunting, which was especially bad. There was a lot of wildlife that was willing to hunt humans because they were big enough, so they had no reason to think whatever the hell this thing wouldn't too. The men had been right to get indoors.

One soldier had been late though, stumbling out of one of the tents in the parking lot without a shirt or armor on, but at least with his rifle. He looked up, saw the creature circling, and started running for the terminal building. And the creature noticed. Its posture suddenly changed and it went into an unmistakable dive.

"Defend that soldier!" Hsu ordered. He stepped out from the overhead and took aim with his 9mm pistol, squeezing off round after round towards the mysterious beast. Major Dhatri and the other soldiers joined in, sending a slew of hot lead into the air in its general reactions. And even better, the shots landed. The creature jerked and suddenly stopped it's dive, pulling up. It spasmed in mid air and, shockingly, a human suddenly tumbled off its back and fell a full twenty feet before smashing into the pavement. The creature flew off into the sky and far away from them, and the soldier made it to the front of the terminal shaken but uneaten.

"Get in there, soldier." Hsu gave the panting man a pat on the back.

"Colonel, that rider…" Major Dhatri brought Hsu's attention back to the parking lot. A few soldiers had already ventured out from the overhang to approach the fallen man. His outfit made who, or at least what, he was obvious: A Legionnaire. The pieces fell together in Hsu's mind quickly. That was a scout, riding that creature over the camp to get an aerial view of it. But what the hell was that creature and when the hell did the Legion train them?

"I think he's still breathing!" A trooper called to the two officers. Another trooper had a more direct test method-he kicked the man, who promptly screamed and started to twist around on the ground.

"That's enough, soldier." Hsu stopped the trooper. He got close to the man and looked for himself. It looked like a bullet had caught him in the shoulder, and that had knocked him off the mount. Probably had some broken bones from that fall too, but it was hard to tell just by looking. "Get him inside. Have medics check him and then hand him over to Lt. Boyd." Hsu was going to have a word with the base's Military Police commander and instruct her to try and find out what the hell those things were.

But the fact was clear: Legion had found a way to infiltrate their territory again. Hsu suddenly got a good idea what had ambushed that patrol. He was going to cancel that recon mission, and he had to get on the radio with Brigadier Moore and General Oliver right away.

"There's more of them!" A trooper called. Everyone looked up. Two more of those things were flying towards the Strip, completely bypassing the base. And as everyone watched, two streaks of smoke suddenly shot up from the ground. The two flying scouts were suddenly obliterated in a pair of massive explosions. The troopers were confused, but Hsu had read enough classified briefings to know what those were: Rockets, from those creepy securitrons that patrolled the Strip. The airspace above there would be safe, at least. But Hsu couldn't expect the same here.

"Everyone inside!" Hsu ordered. "The prisoner too." Their captive started screaming in agony as a pair of soldiers unceremoniously grabbed his arms and legs and just picked him up. Definitely some internal damage. The men inside gawked in surprise as they entered. While they carried him off to the medics, Hsu hurried back to the communications room. The same private was rushing out at the same time, and backpedaled when he realized the colonel was already there.

"Another message, sir."

"What is it?" Hsu asked as he entered the room again.

"Dispatch from the unit that closed the road near Quarry Junction. They were attacked by Legion forces riding some creatures the troopers couldn't identify. One killed." The technical sergeant relayed sadly. Another casualty? This was shaping up to be a really bad morning for the Army.

But an attack on both Southern New Vegas and by the quarry? Hsu didn't need to look at the map. He knew already there was only a few miles of farmland or empty desert between those two points, unpatrolled by either his soldiers or the Brotherhood. Legion must have struck from there. They probably established a little outpost, maybe using those things to carry in soldiers like vertibirds or something. Those farmers might already be dead...damnit. Hsu clenched a fist.

"Get me a line to the Dam. Get General Oliver on the other end, whatever it takes." While the crews did that, the tech sergeant kept talking.

"There was one other thing, sir."

"Yeah?" Hsu asked, not tearing his gaze from the map and his mind from strategizing on how to deal with the raiding party.

"The Courier passed by the checkpoint. They said he's going to take a look for himself." Hsu looked up. The Courier. The same man who'd nearly single handedly annihilated the fiends and killed Caesar. Hsu had met him several times. He wasn't a soldier, by any means; he was far too casual and full of wit. But he was an effective killer, more than any soldier or Ranger the colonel had ever seen. Yet it was targeted and tapered by a moral code even if it was unnecessarily violent. The man had shown a certain care and respect for Hsu's soldiers too, and the Colonel wasn't going to forget that. Brigadier Moore and General Oliver weren't fond of him, Hsu knew, but he knew that personally he expected good things from them.

But even if Hsu could expect the man to deal with the Legion, that didn't mean the NCR Army was going to rest on its laurels. Hsu took steps to make sure all the men at the camp were safe, all while he waited to contact General Oliver.