Chapter 11
Those Who are about to Die Salute You
The sun is setting behind White Tree. Five golden fingers of light poke above its jagged wooden walls. Kat and I are hidden in the weeds and scrub five hundred yards away. For the past hour, we've barely moved.
I've felt nauseous all day. Off balance, like I have a concussion. Right now, the vertigo is intense. I lie down and close my eyes.
Kat stirs and I hear the click of her automatic rifle.
"Should we move in now?" I ask with a yawn. I open my eyes and see the sun dip below the palisade. This could be the last sunset I'll ever get to see. I watch intently to try and capture its beauty, but can't get my vision to stay in focus.
"Not yet." Kitarshna does an ammo check. "It's not dark enough - give it a few minutes. . .Sure you're still up to this?"
I sit up, resting my head against the trunk of a dying tree.
"Not really, but it doesn't matter."
Kat stares at me, blankly. Her glass eye sparkles in the twilight. I look away, towards White Tree.
Twil's laughter echoes in my mind. I'm not sure I ever heard her laugh while she was alive, but I can hear it now. Haunting and mournful.
Kat reaches into her back pocket and grabs a .45 pistol. She pulls the slide back and hands it to me. I examine the weapon for a moment and bite down on my tongue. My nausea's returned. If we don't storm the town soon, I'll be too sick to do it.
"Why did you leave the legion?" Kat asks.
"I didn't. They crucified me."
"Why?"
"Cowardice." I begin to cough. A coppery taste fills my mouth and I spit out a wad of blood. "We were ordered to storm a NCR ranger outpost at the edge of the Mojave. Camp Guardian. It was on a hilltop. Great position. My centurion sent two contubernia in for a frontal assault and they were cut apart. After that, an explorer found a cave system under the hill. I told my centurion he should send us through the caves so we could sneak into the camp and catch the profligates by surprise. He thought that was cowardly. He ordered us to storm the hill, just like the last two units. It was a waste. I questioned orders, so they crucified me."
Kat's face shows no emotion. "Why did you question his order?"
"Because the attack was suicidal. Pointless. If we'd moved in through the caves, we might have taken the camp. As of now, the NCR still holds it. I know that because my centurion was crucified along with me for his failure. Come to think of it, maybe Twil should have untied him. He was a beast in hand-to-hand combat."
"What makes this attack any different?" Kat motions towards White Tree with the barrel of her rifle. A line of torches has been lit along top the palisade, making the entire settlement glow an eerie amber.
My eyes narrow. I wonder what Kat is getting at.
Dusk envelopes us.
"You said I was going to die anyway. So if I die here, it doesn't matter."
"You didn't know that when we set out."
I frown. "Okay. Then I don't know why."
"Is it because this is something you believe in?" Kat moves in closer. "Unlike the legion?"
I picture Twil hanging from the noose. My fists clench.
"Sure. You're right. I liked the legion but never believed that Caesar was a god. He wasn't worth dying for. Just another tyrant."
"What do you believe in?" Kat blinks.
My head is throbbing. Still, the question intrigues me.
How many times have I been asked what I believe in?
What do I believe in?
Why am I doing this?
"Justice." I whisper. I stand up, slowly. "What do you believe in, Kat?"
"Only what I can see." Kat smiles. "I don't believe in anything."
"That's depressing."
"What is?"
"The thought that there's nothing beyond this. That Twil, Jethro, and I are all headed to the same place. Nothingness. Makes life kind of pointless if there's no justice in the end."
Kat doesn't respond. She reaches inside of her armor and grasps something. I watch as she pulls out a small object. It's a steel rod with a blue, glass tip. She twirls it in her fingers.
"Do you want to live forever?"
"Forever?"
Forever is a long time. I stare at Kat to try and guess her meaning. She glances down at the rod. Its blue, crystalline tip shimmers. It's the same shade of blue as her artificial eye. I've never seen anything like it, but assume it has something to do with Anchorage.
I picture my consciousness entombed in a robo-brain, perfectly preserved in a vat of cerebral-spinal fluid. Most of my brain's functions have been suppressed by the machinations of a PreWar programmer. Now I'm just a mindless mechanical hulk, aimlessly roaming the wasteland.
Is that what its like to be a machine - to be trapped inside of lifeless circuitry - forever?
"No. Not as a. . robot. . .Or whatever you are." I pocket Kat's pistol and take my hunting rifle off my back. "If you could help me live for a little while longer, that'd be good, but I like being me. . .you know, human."
Kat puts the strange object away and readies her gear. "Then you should move in. It's dark now."
"Ladies first."
"No," Kat says curtly. "This is your justice."
A single guard is positioned beyond White Tree's outer wall. He's standing near the gravel trail that leads into town. If I make a wide arc, there's a good chance I'll be able to sneak by him. Normally, this wouldn't be too hard, but right now, my head is swimming.
I glance back at Kat. Sweat beads up on my forehead.
"You're covering me?"
Kat gives me a solemn nod. "If you need it."
I begin to shuffle forward on my hands and knees. Kat's hedged answer is anything but reassuring. For a moment, I wonder if she's going to cover me at all or just watch me die with detached interest. It doesn't matter since there's no going back. I push the doubts from my mind. If I don't focus, I'll fail.
Again.
The guard seems unaware of my presence. I continue forward, trying to stay as low as possible, below the guard tower's line of sight. My uniform clatters slightly, under my brahmin skin robe. I should have taken it off, but I haven't been thinking clearly.
I press my face into the soil as the guard peers in my direction. The ground is arid; dust floods my nose. I feel the urge to sneeze, but if I do, I'm as good as dead. Crunching footsteps signal that the guard is moving away from me. I continue creeping towards town and am able to reach the wall before I'm spotted.
With my back to the palisade, the front gate is to my left. In better days, I might have been able to scale the wall, but right now my balance is off and my vision's blurry. I clutch Kat's pistol with white knuckles. Anything could be on the other side of the wall. I close my eyes, push the gate open, and hold the .45 out in front of me.
There's one guard standing next to the gate, so close we're almost eye-to-eye. He's a tribal with tattoos obscuring most of his face. Urahil, I remember. Twil knew him and hated him. If it wasn't Jethro, Urahil was her most likely executioner.
This is for you, Twil.
Urahil sees me and begins to open his mouth. Time creeps by. I have no idea what he's about to say, but before a word leaves his lips, I fire two rounds into his chest. He falls to his knees and a woman screams in her tent, somewhere to the right of me.
Time returns to its normal pace. Men and women - mostly tribals - emerge from their huts to see what's happened. I duck behind a tent and begin to weave my way through White Tree, jogging towards the church at the town's center.
Jethro will be inside of the church; I can sense it. I close in on the stone building as commotion fills the camp. No one is guarding the doorway. I pivot inside of the church and do a quick sweep of the interior.
The church is dimly lit. Opposite me are several benches standing before a rock alter. A red cloth has been draped over the alter with fine gold trimming. An older woman is standing behind it now. Several young girls are sitting on the benches in front of her. The old crone panics when she sees me, and all the girls duck under their seats, shrieking.
Jethro is nowhere in sight. There's a stairwell to my left that leads up to a second level. At the risk of boxing myself in, I draw my rifle and ascend the stairs. The women below stampede out of the church, their clamor adding to the general alarm.
It will only be a minute or two before every guard in White Tree is on top of me.
Climbing the stairs is harder than it should be. My body is weak. My limbs are somewhat unresponsive. Even worse, my vision is smattered with little, yellow flecks.
The blood in my brain is beginning to kill me.
Five more steps and I'm on the top floor. The attic. I sweep the area with my rifle but it's an empty cube with nothing inside except a small, shuttered-up window. Someone enters the church below, and I hear their feet scrape against the stone floor.
I turn around and wait for them to move into the stairwell.
A New Canaanite in leather armor pokes his head around the corner. The moment I see his eyes, I put a bullet straight between them. He slinks to the floor, and is quickly dragged out of view. I hear a chorus of voices but one stands out from all the others.
Jethro.
"Who's up there? Did anyone see him? Sound the alarm! We need more men out here!"
"It's that man!" A woman shouts, most likely the old crone. "The one who challenged you!"
"Io?"
I crouch on the top step, waiting for any sign of movement.
"Is that you, Io?" Jethro's deep voice fills the stone church. "Sneaking into God's house to kill my flock in the dark of night? How cowardly - for a legionnaire. I thought you were a man of honor."
His remark cuts deep. My body tenses.
"You aren't worthy of honor. You're a fanatic. A murderer. A rapist and a liar!"
"Get some torches. We'll smoke him out," a voice suggests.
"No." Jethro balks. "This is a sacred place. We can't let it burn. Gather the men and we'll storm the attic."
This is exactly what I want, except I doubt that Jethro will lead the charge. I have to find a way to take him down before dying.
Trapped in the attic, I hunker down and wait for death. The loud rat-tat-tat of an automatic weapon breaks the tension. It's not the sound of an assault rifle - it's louder and deeper - a much larger caliber.
Kat. . .Kat has come for me.
White Tree is in chaos. I can hear screams, shouts, ricochets, and crackles of gunfire reverberate through the attic window. For a few seconds, Jethro and the New Canaanites downstairs forget all about me. I use the distraction to make an escape. I dart up to the window, knock out the shutters with the butt of my rifle, and jump into the darkness.
The ground seems to shoot up at me. I don't feel the fall, but the dirt is rock solid. I land on my knees and wave my pistol around madly.
No one is in sight. I stand up and lean against the church. It sounds like Kat is still far away, laying down suppression fire.
A man rounds the corner of the church, walking directly into my sights. Before he sees me, I kill him with several pulls of the trigger.
"Around back!" Someone shouts. "He's around back! Flush him out! All of you!"
I need to reload. My hands won't stop shaking. I fumble with the magazine and drop it. When I try to pick it up, something bites into me.
It's a sharp pain in my gut. For a moment it feels hot. I hear the shot well after I feel it. I look down and see that someone's hit me in the chest with buckshot. I collapse against the stone church and three men cautiously approach me.
Jethro is one of them. He's holding a double barrel shotgun. The barrel's still smoking.
Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one to do it?
I try to raise my pistol, but my strength is gone.
I hear Twil laughing.
"I should have killed you with Twil." Jethro seethes. He presses the shotgun against my forehead. "Show the devil mercy, and he repays you with more sin. I should have known better. . ."
I look up at Jethro, staring straight into his dark, brooding eyes. There's something I want to say, but my thoughts are disorganized, and I can't remember.
I'm too tired now. Much too tired. I can't catch my breath. I want to go to sleep.
Jethro goes to pull the trigger, but something stops him.
"Wha - what are you?" Jethro and the other men turn around.
Kat is standing to their left, auto-rifle against her cheek.
"The end."
Kat opens fire. Jethro and the other two guards are chopped apart by a clip of .308 ammo.
Their bodies fall and lie heaped beside me.
I take a good, long look at Jethro. He's been hit four times in the chest. His eyes roll back and blood pools around him.
For once, I didn't fail. Jethro died before I did.
Time slows again. Kat kneels down next to me, clutching the strange rod. I'm about to die. I can feel it now. Something dark and cold is reaching for me.
What was my life? Was it a waste? Did it have a purpose?
What is purpose?
What is meaning?
"Sure you don't want to live forever?" Kat's dry voice seems to echo forever. "I can connect you to Anchorage."
My vision fades. Everything's cold now. Just another minute left. I can't breathe. As everything grows dark and numb, I mutter two last words.
"Broken Legs. . ."
Epilogue
The Lights of New Vegas
Kitarshna swept the encampment with her automatic rifle. The newest specimen was dead, just like his forerunners. The answer to the puzzle still eluded her, and it would take a long time to find another specimen like Io.
She frowned and used her cybernetic eye to scan the sea of tents surrounding her.
He refused the neural cartographer. Why?
Why do so many choose death over Anchorage?
Insufficient data. . .
Kitarshna wondered what she should do next. The tribals and missionaries who lived in White Tree were bound to regroup and counterattack. It would be best if she left before that happened. She began to walk towards the front gate. Io's last words popped into her mind. She could hear them so clearly it was like he was still beside her.
Broken Legs. . .
One of the tents towards the back of the encampment had a cot in it with a warm body resting on it. Kitarshna could see the body heat radiate through the canvas. The body was small, likely a child. Someone else was in the tent, crouched next to the cot in a defensive position.
Kitarshna proceeded toward the tent, silently. She stopped next to the entrance flap and then slipped inside in one quick motion.
The cot lay across the tent, next to a pile of bloody rags. A girl was lying on its dirty mattress. Both of her legs were encased in medical braces. Opposite the girl was a grizzled old man. He was ducking behind a wooden crate, feebly pointing a revolver in Kitarshna's direction.
Kitarshna leveled her rifle at him.
"Go away." She commanded.
The man turned white and fled the tent.
The girl on the cot whimpered as Kitarshna loomed over her.
"Are you Broken Legs?"
The girl didn't answer. Her eyes seemed to bug out as she looked Kitarshna up and down.
Kitarshna shouldered her weapon. She should have asked Io for a description of Broken Legs while he was still alive, but she deduced that this must be her. He'd described her as a young tribal with leg injuries. She leaned forward as the girl tried to wriggle away. Undeterred, she scooped her off the bed and held her in one arm so they were almost touching noses.
"Do you know Io?"
The girl continued to stare at Kitarshna, trembling. Her gaze was locked on Kitarshna's glass eye. She tried to squirm free, but Kitarshna's grip was iron.
"Io." She squeaked in a whisper. "Tlechet, Io? Whu teba indiki ie."
Kitarshna didn't understand the girl's dialect, but new languages had always interested her. Perhaps she'd be able to learn it. She carried the girl outside and scanned the immediate area.
The sky above White Tree twinkled in the dark of night. There were a few scattered voices amongst the tents, but most of the villagers had fled, and much of the encampment now lay empty.
Kitarshna walked over to the church and looked up at the stars. She wasn't sure why she'd decided to take the little girl. A part of her was always fascinated by children. Attempting to care for a human child would be an interesting experiment. Children were rare in Anchorage - and Anchorage was always eager to assimilate new data and experiences.
Kitarshna's lips twitched as she broadcasted an access request to the mainframe.
It took only a second for Anchorage to answer.
Kitarshna was granted conditional access to Anchorage, provided she upload her latest observations. She complied. The resulting merge gave her a very pleasant sensation. It was like meeting an old friend – or coming home again. She combed through Anchorage's databanks, searching for a nearby settlement where she could take the girl for medical treatment.
The closest settlement was the Sierra Madre Casino. Pathfinder Xenophon was stationed there, and his last upload was only twelve hours ago. His reports indicated that the casino was equipped with numerous Auto-Docs that could heal the girl. However, the area was enveloped by a noxious cloud of unknown origin.
Too poisonous.
The next closest settlement was Big Mountain Research Facility. No one was stationed there at the moment, but Pathfinder Yog and Pathfinder Xenophon had passed through the area and mapped it. Threat levels were red. Numerous robotic defenses. Nightstalkers. Cazadores. Unknown, skeletal hostiles designated 'Y-17 Trauma Override Harness.'
Kitarshna looked down at the little girl.
Too hazardous.
New Vegas was only other settlement within walking distance. If Kitarshna walked straight there - without stopping - she could arrive in the Strip within thirty hours. She could do that with ease, but the girl would need to rest and be provided with fresh food and water.
Fifty hours was a better approximation.
Pathfinder Yog was already in New Vegas. He had planted himself in the upper echelons of Caesar's Legion. But Fortification Hill was no place for a lamed little girl. The child would find no help there, and Kitarshna's unique appearance would raise unwanted suspicion.
The Strip was the only safe, technologically developed destination.
Kitarshna severed her connection. She then tightened her grip on the girl and began to walk due south. The sky glowed orange as night morphed into dawn over the vast emptiness of the Mojave.
Within two days, she and the little girl would be basking under the neon lights of New Vegas.
But that is another story. . .
(*****************************)
A/N:
Wow, what a long journey. Big thanks to everyone who commented. Although I may not respond to comments as much as other authors, know that your encouragement and praise is what kept me going
And with that, I will retire Fallout Fan Fics for a little while. I've hawked my ebooks several times, so I won't do it again, but I do want to let all of my readers know that I'm publishing a complete 350 page novel - The Navigator. The cover is my avatar - courtesy of the talented artist James Junior.
The novel will be released mid October and it takes place on a post apocalyptic water world - inspired by Fallout.
If you'd like to read it, I'm doing a promotion. PM me with your email address and when it comes out, I will gift you a free copy through Amazon. That's right, free! I won't email you - Amazon will - and I promise to never spam your inbox. (US only, sorry)
Otherwise, thanks so much for checking out my story and feel free to comment! You guys have been awesome.