The pinging from her pip-boy jolted her out of another nightmare. They came often these days.
She took a few deep breaths before checking the thing on her wrist.
It was a transmission with two lines of text. I'm sorry Veronica - David Ishmael Kelly, said the first.
Veronica blinked hard at the thought. Below it two very precise numbers were given; numbers that could only be coordinates. She felt herself instinctively swallow only to realize that her throat had run dry.
She found a piece of scrap paper, and scribbled down the numbers. Veronica then opened the map on the pip-boy, and punched in the numbers. The map zeroed in to a location, a ways northwest of Primm.
Mentally, Veronica calculated the distance, the possible routes to Primm, and the charity of her current friends.
Times were changing for the Boomers, and unlike the Brotherhood, they would thrive in the merciless times these were.
Also unlike the Brotherhood, both House and NCR wanted the denizens of Nellis Air Force Base on their side. The thought left Veronica, more than a little bitter.
After the incident in the Henderson rail yard, David had never once raised arms against the Mojave Brotherhood of Steel. Instead, he merely sentenced them to death, like Caesar putting his thumb down after a gladiator match.
Cutler and his cronies were left to die with horrible wounds, when the former courier floored the accelerator, dropped her off here, and demanding that she stay here. The Boomers took her in like one of their own, offering some comfort to her in the darkest night of her life.
But then morning came, and with it David. She remembered trying to read a face that looked like he'd aged a few years since she saw him speed off in his armored Highwayman to Hidden Valley. She'd seen him enough to know he'd done something he wanted no part of.
"I once promised the elder I'd return any holotags I came across." His voice betrayed no anger, nor much of any emotion for that matter, just weariness. But then again, he hid things as a rule rather than an exception.
"Did you hurt anybody?" Veronica had asked him.
The response had nearly frozen her blood, and chilled her to the bone whenever she remembered the reply. "Didn't have to. Just read them from the book."
Even now, she still wondered what he had said to the elder. Veronica also wondered what book he'd read to them from, but it probably wasn't the Codex.
"You actually walked away without killing someone?" At the time Veronica was a little surprised. Most of the time David was a reserved, calculating man with a somewhat frigid personality, to anybody who did not know him well enough. The day before, he'd gone berserk and looked madder than a wounded Deathclaw.
"Cutler and his squad had no orders from MacNamara to kill you or the Followers." His mostly stoic face then gave way to a snarl. "They just wanted to prove themselves and have everybody in your tribe see them as big men."
It had been no small relief to know that she was not in danger of being hunted down by another death squad in power armor worn by the people she'd grown up with.
"They care about you, Veronica. Even Hardin who's mad as hell at me, just about broke down when he heard they almost killed you."
Paladin Hardin and David had a strong dislike of one another from their first meeting when Hardin asked for help in becoming the new elder. "The last thing your tribe needs is a wannabee alpha male pounding his chest at the world," was David's cold response.
The paladins hated the idea of being equated with a bunch of face painted spear throwers, but the real meaning was lost on them. The scribes understood why he called the Brotherhood of Steel a tribe. Even if they didn't care to admit it, xenophobia, isolation and a slowly stagnating gene pool were hurting them as much if not more than the NCR.
"Still, they think your exile was the best choice you could have made." The words hurt Veronica far more than they had a right to, and she let out another deep breath.
Before she could say anything to respond, he stretched out his arms and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry it came to this." She couldn't understand what he meant by that statement. She thought he was talking about the Followers, but a few days later, Veronica realized what he'd done.
She had heard on the radio of that a squad of NCR rangers drove a herd of captured Bighorners into hidden valley, with the suspected purpose of establishing a temporary ranger station and supply dump within a few hours southwest of McCarran. A spokesman from Camp Golf denied NCR involvement and stated that they were "a bunch of cowboys on leave."
If that wasn't obvious enough, The Hidden Valley Ranch as the rangers had nicknamed it, even had its own brand "ICU" stamped on the hides of every sheep. Veronica could only imagine how they were taking this.
Part of her was angry at David for what he'd done. Hidden Valley was under siege because of him, and the large dysfunctional family she'd been born into would starve soon if the rangers didn't move on.
On the other hand, it was mercy all things considered. The NCR for all its faults represented law and order for the wastes. For too many generations the Brotherhood of Steel did what they wanted without impunity. When a legitimate government in California formed to serve the interests of downtrodden, Jeremy Maxson learned the hard way that there were laws outside of the bunkers. They were laws made by an outside force that more or less gave the codex a stiff one finger salute.
The decline of the Brotherhood, in a way reminded her very much of the stories she'd heard about the old tribes from before the bombs. The US government had its way with anybody they considered backwards, with only a few tribes smart enough to adapt to a changing world.
She dressed in the dark early morning light. It was about hour until sunrise, and there was no way she would fall back asleep after this.
The early morning hours ticked away slowly for Veronica, in the forsaken Quonset hut that she'd fixed up with the help of Jack and his newlywed wife, Janet. Right now, this was the closest thing she had to a home.
Sure, she could have stayed in the Lucky 38. Veronica had loved that place once. It was a luxurious time capsule to a bygone era of luxury, class and stylish clothing, inhabited by an adoptive family of sorts. The more time she spent in the 38 however, the more she felt trapped.
Cass had called the place a gilded cage, but David said it best with a few drinks under his belt. "When you're working for House, you can check out any time you'd like, but you can never leave."
Even in Boomer territory, she could practically feel the shadow of the tower, and the great watchful eye of House on her. Wasn't there some old prewar book about a dark lord in a dark tower in a dark wasteland looking for his precious jewelry?
She left the hut at the crack of dawn and made her way to the mess hall. The call for breakfast was only a minute away when she arrived, and she got her meal well before the chow line formed.
Her breakfast was an omelet with a piece of cactus fruit on the side and a bottle of cold, clean water. Breakfast as of late, was something the Boomers savored. If Veronica had to guess, it would be Janet's recipes.
The newest addition to the big gun toting family, seemed to be everywhere these days. Sometimes she could be found in the kitchen, preparing a new dish. Other times she'd be with Jack trying her hand at farming. In longer periods of absence, she would be making runs to Freeside.
Not two days ago, Janet helped broker an agreement with the Gun Runners with the help of Cass.
After Breakfast, Janet, Jack, Loyal and a few others would fire up the restored switcher in the railyard and ride to the edge of Freeside where they would make their trades.
Veronica wasn't quite sure what to do afterwards, but Cass would be there.
Right now, Cass was the only friend of David's that she had the courage to look in the eyes right now. She really wasn't sure how she should be taking this, but she would know after a conversation with Cass.
"Thank you for your help, friend." The blond Stormcloak spoke as he removed his blood stained armor. Beneath his leathers, the man had three nasty wounds. There was of course the cut on his arm that had clotted somewhere up the road, and there were two open wounds that had to be bite marks.
It was slow going at first, but the road was easy to negotiate. In about an hour's time, they stopped by a pond, a couple miles later. The water looked stagnant, but after a taste test, he figured it was clean enough so long as it didn't taste metallic.
David took the dusty blue cloak from him and dipped it in the pond. He offered it to Ralof, who took it and began the process of washing out the cuts he had taken.
"So what brings you to Skyrim?" The chatty man asked him.
He shrugged. David did not know a thing about Skyrim or how he got here. Raloff did not strike him as someone whose world view was restricted to a handful of settlements within half a weeks ride, so he decided to try the alien invader approach for the hell of it. The response would be more telling anyways.
"So imagine I'm like some kind of alien from another planet." David asked Ralof as soon as the man finished cleaning his wounds. "What can you tell me about Skyrim?"
The blond looked him over, "Alien? Planet?" The look on the man's face was uncomprehending.
"So imagine some star in the sky, another world where life can exist. Then imagine, a spaceship lands on your world. Some dude like me in weird clothing comes along and says 'Take me to your leader.' How do you respond?" David wasn't really sure if he'd landed on another planet, but looking around, it might as well be true. If it was possible it would explain why the land was untouched by the bombs, why he couldn't access the map on the his pip boy, or why the night sky looked so strange.
The man's eyes filled with equal measures of skepticism and curiosity. "You're telling me, that there are ships that can sail across the skies and visit the stars?"
David smirked, "oh, that and more, but tell me, how would you and your friends treat someone such as myself?"
The Stormcloak beamed at the question. "We would feast with you in our halls, and listen to your stories no matter how strange they sound."
David grinned. Wherever he was, it sounded like he'd already made a few friends. At the same time, he wasn't sure he liked getting lots of attention in an unfamiliar land. "What can you tell me about Skyrim by chance?"
Ralof shrugged "Where would I begin? The food and drink are the best anywhere, The women are to die for, and its where the real men come from."
For such a small bit of probably biased information, he learned an awful lot.
"What should I know about the skirt wearers, who wanted us dead?" They couldn't be Caesar's Legion, but what were they?
"Imperial Legion, the fifth one. The Empire still wants our taxes and blood, but can't be bothered to rule us with respect". Ralof's voice was consumed with emotion as he spoke.
"General Tullius is their leader if you remember him, the one in the pretty armor with that friend in Cryodil. Don't let his foppish plate fool you though, he's the Emperor's very own attack dog."
"How terrified should I be?" David's tone was not flattering. The Imperials fought well enough, but Caesar's Legion could have eaten those men for breakfast with nothing more than rusted machetes.
"Very," Ralof spoke in a serious tone. "He's not one for charm, but when it comes to planning, he's as sly as a fox."
The analogy made David think of Vulpes Inculta, and he couldn't help but shudder.
"You know, you should head to Windhelm, and join the fight to free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire here today."
"So how far to your people?" David figured he'd heard enough for the moment, and changed the subject.
"Should be half a day's walk down the road." Ralof, was now busy dressing his wounds with some purple flower whose petals he had crushed. If this helps me any though, we should be there before the sun peaks.
"What's the plant you're dressing the cuts with?"
The soldier looked at him for a second before something clicked within him. "Oh this, its the Purple Mountain Flower. The alchemists use this all the time to treat frostbite venom. Something in the flower dissolves the venom I think."
David simply nodded. Now that he thought of it, he'd seen a similar cure for Cazador venom when he was in Zion. The cure seemed to be taking an immediate effect, the man's muscles seemed to relax as he sat there.
A minute or so passed, before Ralof put his armor back on. He slipped the leathers over his head, but took care to leave the shirt of metal links in his pack.
Without a word, they continued the journey, this time with Ralof pulling his own weight. David had offered to carry his pack, but the man was nearly as stubborn as he was chatty.
They walked down the road for a while. Ralof had nothing to say at the moment, for which he was grateful. Right now, he was lost in thought.
It was a lot for him to take in. The air was a little chilly, but the countryside was full of life as far as the eye could see. The place had a brute romantic charm to it, that made him think of the Glacier lands across from the Glowing Tundra, that only the Montana Brotherhood dared to tread and past the Flatheads where some of the most savage tribes in Montana dwelt.
David felt his eyes gravitating towards something in the distance on a mountain. The place had the look of ruins, not like prewar ruins, but ruins that seemed to predate everything else in the world like the pueblo dwellings in Mesa Verde.
"See that ruin up there?" Ralof noticed his eyes on the ruins. "That's Bleak Falls Barrow. Never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place."
"We getting closer?" David asked hopefully.
Ralof nodded, "should be less than an hour from here. Just remember, this isn't Stormcloak territory. If we're ahead of the news from Helgen we should be fine as long as we don't do anything stupid."
"Don't worry, I know a thing or two about hiding in plain sight," David allowed a grin. "You might say it's been like a second job to me."
"What did you do?" The Stormcloak was trying to size him up yet again.
"I've done lots of things, man. Dangerous things."
The chatty blond just stared at him suddenly at a loss for words.
"Soldiered for a few different armies, most of them lost. I was a missionary once, that one took some real cojones, but it was worth it. I ran caravans through some of the most dangerous lands in the West. Oh, and I was a courier whenever I had to run and hide. Got to be a gentleman rancher for a few years with a family though, so that was fun. Granted the wife did try to kill me, but it's not worth the anger."
Ralof just shook his head, "If we run into more Imperials, just let me do the talking, all right?"
"Thanks man, I appreciate it," he patted the man on the back. "Besides, I don't have many good conversations with men in skirts," David commented dryly.
Some time passed, before the two eventually arrived at the village of Riverwood. The small settlement was well tucked in the river valley and was practically hidden from their approach. Past a small gate for an incomplete wall made of stone and braced with rough hewn timber, he found himself walking down the main street.
The layout of the town reminded him very much of Avery on the St. Joe minus that damned railyard that the elites from Conda and the Lodge had been clamoring for. It was even at the bottom of a windy trail, not unlike the A-Dare road that crossed the Bitterroots.
"Let's go find Gerdur," Ralof motioned for David to follow him.
"A dragon, I saw a dragon." Some old lady with an outfit that looked straight out of New Canaan spoke with excitement to a younger man with flowing blond hair.
"What, what is it now mother?" The young man spoke with a tired disdain for the woman who had apparently brought him into the world.
"It was as big as the mountain and black as night. It flew right over the barrow." The old woman was practically begging her son to believe her, even though she might have been the village crackpot in saner times.
"Dragons now is it?" the son rudely retorted. "Please, mother. If you keep going on like this, people will think you're crazy."
The man turned away waving a hand in dismissal. "Besides, I have better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies."
"You'll see," the woman's voice was now a near growl. "It was a dragon. It will kill us all, and then you'll believe me."
He thought of No Bark over in Novacs, and wondered what kind of stories they could tell about all the times they were right and no one believed them. David let out a soft chuckle at the thought which earned him a knowing look from Ralof.
He followed the Stormcloak across a small wooden footbridge that spanned an island in the river that held a small lumber mill.
"Gerdur!" Ralof called out to his sister.
He saw a woman cutting wood with dirty blond hair in a faded green dress, that was clearly worn down by hard work. She dropped the splitting maul, and ran straight for Ralof wrapping her arms around him.
Ralof went rigid for a moment before returning the hug. They just stood there for a moment before she stepped back and their eyes met. "Mara's Mercy, its good to see you! But is it safe for you to be here?"
"Gerdur," he tried to calm her down. "I'm fine. At least now I am."
"Are you hurt? What's happened?" She turned to face him. "And who's this? One of your comrades?"
"Not a comrade yet... but a friend. I owe him my life, in fact." Ralof looked nervously. "Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Legion..."
"Helgen? Has something happened...?" Gerdur cut off her brother at the mention of the place up the road. "You're right. Follow me. Hod!" She raised her voice. "Come down here a minute. I need your help with something."
"What is it, woman? Sven drunk on the job again?" The voice came from somewhere behind the mill.
"Hod. Just come here," replied Gerdur.
David turned his attention to a stocky man walking along the edge of the mill floor, and into view. His face was square shaped, and his chin was decorated with one of the best trimmed horseshoe mustaches he'd seen. The man looked at David but paid him no mind. When he saw Ralof though, his eyes widened.
"Ralof! What are you doing here?" asked Hod with surprise. "Hold on, I'll be right down!"
Before he could bring himself down to their level, a young boy came running to the scene with a dog in tow. "Uncle Ralof!" He exclaimed with excitement. "Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?"
Gerdur was on him as soon as he finished. "Hush, Frodnar. This is no time for your games. Go and watch the south road. Find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming."
"Aw, mama, I want to stay and talk with uncle Ralof!" Frodnar sighed with disappointment at the little family reunion cut short.
"Look at you, almost a grown man! Won't be long before you'll be joining the fight yourself!" The soldier greeted the boy with a toothy grin.
"That's right! Don't worry uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you!" The boy ran off with his dog and his mood once again in high spirits.
Hod let out a light chuckle after the boy left, then turned the face the conversation. "Now, Ralof, what's going on? You two look pretty well done in."
Ralof sighed "I can't remember the last time I slept. Where to start? Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be. That was...two days ago, now."
David blinked at that revelation.
"We stopped at Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up for the headsman's block and ready to start chopping!"
"The cowards!" Reacted Gerdur.
"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people!" The Stormcloak's voice was emotional once again. "All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then! But then...out of nowhere...a dragon attacked."
"You don't mean a real, live..."
"I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there! As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?" Asked Ralof.
Gerdur shrugged. "Nobody has come up the south road today, as far as I know."
"Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while. I'd hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but..."
Nonsense." the woman gave her brother no room to argue. "You and your friend are welcome to stay as long as you need. Let me worry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine. Here's the key to the house. Stay as long as you like."
She turned to David. "There's something you can do for me. For all of us. We need to send word to Jarl Balgruuf to send whatever troops he can. Riverwood is defenseless. If you do that for me, I'll be in your debt."
"Sure thing, I'm not from around here though, so you'll have to point me in the right direction."
"It's just a few hours on the road north, you can't miss it." Ralof answered for him.
"You know, my best adventures always started as a Courier."
Author's note: Sorry for the wait, but things have been a wee bit crazy as of late.
A few things I should bring up...
I have decided that all New Vegas companions will have pipboys for reasons of logistics. That and considering the amount of exposure to RobCo and Vault-Tec in the story, it feels totally logical.
David has a long history, that goes well beyond the Mojave and The West Coast. I will be taking some inspiration from Van Buren in his backstory as far as Colorado, Utah, and Arizona go, but everything north of that runs by the seat of my pants, although there is mention of a Brotherhood of Steel presence in Montana in Fallout 3