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Abercrombie awoke to the sound of rough knuckles rapping on his door.
"He's waiting" said a voice, clearly Sundiata's. Abercrombie sat up, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. It had been a month since he had slept in a proper bed and he had almost forgotten how good they felt.
Another sharp knock. "I heard you!" Abercrombie snapped. There was a moment of silence before he heard the unmistakable sound of heavy boots walking off down the hall. So he guessed he would be allowed to get ready in peace.
He swung his legs from the small bed and looked around the room. It was still small, with the only furniture the bed he was on and the locker in the corner. Standing, he yawned and opened it.
All it had was his combat armour and duster, along with his other clothes. He quickly put them on, even the armour. He knew he didn't need it on base, but at this point in his life he was so used to wearing it that going without it would make him uncomfortable. And the last thing he wanted to be with the General was uncomfortable. He brushed himself down, not realising how dirty his clothes were from yesterday, and then headed out.
The Stand was easy to get lost in if a person wasn't careful. The walls and ceilings looked the same in every part, having been built for practicality rather than look, with light grey walls and bright white ceilings, dominated by the large rectangular lights that were kept on 24 hours of every day. The halls were wide enough for two people to walk comfortably past each other and they widened when they intersected with others. It was built that way to both ease the traffic of people moving from place to place and as a defensive measure, providing more space for soldiers to cover the halls which, with no cover, would be death traps for enemy troops.
As Abercrombie walked through he passed many different people, some soldiers returning after their shifts and others just wakening, stumbling out of their rooms bleary eyed. There were officers too, all with their uniforms tightly pressed and in perfect condition. They snapped off quick salutes to Abercrombie, those that knew him and knew he outranked them, but they seemed loathe to do it.
He didn't blame them. He felt wrong every time he came back here, as if he no longer fit in. His non-standard armour, his lack of a uniform or any clear sign of rank went against everything they were taught as officers. All Enclave officers were better than those under them, just as an Enclave citizen was better than anyone that lived out in the Wastes. It was just a fact of life, something nobody bothered to question. Or maybe, he thought, we're just afraid of the answer.
He had to admit that he didn't believe in these ideals as strongly as he did when he was younger. After years of fighting out in the Wastes, of watching Enclave men die at the hands of supposed lesser peoples, it was getting harder to believe the blatant propaganda. To Abercrombie it was arrogance and arrogance only got you killed out in the Wastes.
He continued walking, coming out of the barracks and passing the doors leading in to the hangar. As usual, the place was abuzz with activity; vertibirds coming and going, mechanics doing their usual maintenance, pilots joking and laughing with each other. Abercrombie doubted it ever got quiet in that place.
He continued, moving in to the offices. He even passed his old office, now belonging to a colonel whose name he didn't recognise. He looked inside. There was not much of a difference from the last time he had seen it, the furniture was the same and there was maybe a little more clutter. He felt oddly nostalgic at the sight of it. Finally he reached the waiting room outside the General's office. Strangely, Sundiata wasn't standing guard. In fact, there was nobody else in the room.
Abercrombie walked to the heavy steel door that led to the General's office and knocked.
"Come in" said a voice, again clearly Sundiata's.
He entered. The General was sitting behind his desk, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands. Sundiata was standing next to the door, arms folded and doing his best to look menacing. Sitting in one of the seats was Eagle, grinning like an idiot. Abercrombie suddenly got a sick feeling in his stomach.
The General smiled as he saw him enter. "Ah, Abercrombie, here at last. Did you sleep well?"
"Well enough" answered Abercrombie, unwilling to admit it had been the best sleep he'd had in years.
"Excellent!" the General said, clapping his hands together in joy. The moment passed quickly, however, and his face took on a more stern look. "Now, I have explained to Master Eagle the circumstances and consequences of the next half hour, but since you are late I will repeat them. You are to speak only when directly spoken too, this is key. Breaking this rule will lead to your immediate re-assignment. Further, any questions asked must be answered honestly and with all due haste. Finally, this is strictly confidential and forfeiting that will be met with the same punishment as treason. Understand?"
Abercrombie nodded, though he was a little confused. The punishment for treason was death; what could possibly be that important in a briefing?
"Good" said the General. He rose to his feet and turned to a blank wall behind his office. "follow me" he ordered, then marched forward. The wall slid away, revealing a hidden doorway, and the General, Sundiata and Eagle disappeared through it. Abercrombie hesitated a moment, then followed.
It was a short hallway that came out into a pitch black room.
"Where are we?" asked Eagle, somewhere to Abercrombie's left.
"Quiet!" hissed the General. He sounded like he was standing right in front of him. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council..." he continued, and Abercrombie stiffened. The Council? No wonder the General gave that speech.
The Council had always been in control of the Stand as caretakers and as a medium for all of the different parties, military, scientific and civilian, to have a say in how the largest Enclave facility was run. They took control after the Rig disaster and kept it until the new president revealed himself on the East coast. Rumours said they weren't too happy about that. But, following the destruction of the John Henry Eden ZAX and the rest of the East Coast expedition, they had regained their power as the only leaders of the Enclave society. There were plenty of rumours about their secret members too; that they were retired generals, powerful merchants and the like. Abercrombie believed that was probably true, but the other rumours were less flattering.
Some said they had a secret police force they used to take out anyone who didn't fit in to their plan, others said they had been involved in the Raven Rock disaster, in order to get complete power. Abercrombie didn't know what to think about those, but the fact he thought they were at least possible made him more than a little unsettled.
"...I present to you Captain Erik Abercrombie, squad leader of the 2nd Irregulars and a distinguished 19 year veteran-" continued the General.
"Thank you, Augustus" interrupted a voice from the dark, "but we do have his file here with us"
There were sudden thumps as the lights came on, several over and around Abercrombie, almost blinding him. As his eyes adjusted he saw other lights, further in to the room, coming on. They weren't much more then desk lamps and illuminated the hands and arms of the people sitting under them, obviously the members of the Council. From what Abercrombie could tell there were two levels, each with 6 lamps equally spaced, although he could only see 7 sets of arms.
"Your file is interesting Captain. It says here you were part of the Floridian war?" continued the voice. Abercrombie visibly shuddered as buried memories came flooding back. "Is something wrong?"
"No sir..." Abercrombie started, trying to hold off the memories. Even after 9 years he still remembered it like it was yesterday, despite his best attempts to do otherwise.
Florida was seen as an untapped gold mine of Old World tech by the Council. They had decided an expedition should be mounted and Abercrombie, with all his youthful wisdom, volunteered immediately. But nobody could have expected the irradiated and mutated jungle they would walk in to, with beasts even more terrifying then Deathclaws stalking you all hours of the day and plants that could move so fast they could strangle a man before he even knew he was in trouble. Abercrombie spent two miserable months in there, fighting to survive with whoever else was alive, until reinforcements finally arrived and he and the others were sent back to the Stand. His bravery, although he struggled to see it as that, was rewarded with a promotion to Captain, something the young Sergeant thought was the greatest thing in his life. How wrong he would end up being.
"Captain, we're waiting" said the voice, snapping Abercrombie out of his trance.
"My apologies, sirs. Yes, the file is correct. I served as a Master Sergeant in 2nd platoon during the Floridian"
"That was quite impressive Captain. Not many men got out of that one with their lives, let alone a major promotion"
"Sir?" asked Abercrombie, unsure where the questions were headed.
"Well..." the voice continued, "your efforts in the Floridian were most impressive, but the rest of your file is...less so"
Abercrombie looked across at the General, but he was just staring straight forward, face and body motionless, a statue in the presence of the few men and women with more power then himself.
"I don't-" he began.
"6 years ago" the voice interrupted, "you were sent on what was deemed a straight forward mission in to southern Idaho. However, you lost 3 men and failed to complete it...in fact, according to this you lost a key piece of technology as well. Would you care to explain this?"
Abercrombie opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off yet again, although this time it wasn't a voice. Someone to his right had slammed his hand down on his desk, the sound echoing off the walls of the hall and causing the small lamp on their desk to rattle and sway.
"This man's record is unquestionable" growled a deeper voice, clearly the man who had slammed his fist down, "you have no right to ask these questions"
Abercrombie turned back to the middle as he saw the first voice's arms disappear in to the dark. He couldn't see what he was doing, but he imagined a thin man leaning back on his chair, a playful grin on his face, like this was all just one big game.
"I have every right to ask these questions when it concerns the future of the Enclave itself" the first voice responded, rather nonchalantly, "and unquestionable? Let me remind you, general, that nobody is above reproach by this board"
"And let me remind you, master" the second voice growled back, "that you have never been in the field..."
"Enough, gentlemen" came a voice to Abercrombie's left, this time a female's, "hindsight is an interesting but ultimately useless tool of examination. And may I remind you both that we all have equal rights on this Council. No one speaks for all of us"
There was some hushed grumbles but Abercrombie couldn't tell where they were coming from. Nobody talked though, so he guessed they had accepted what the woman had said.
It also gave him an insight in to at least two of the Council members. The 'general' was obviously from the military, likely a fighting man himself. The 'master' was a term used to describe high ranking civilians, so he was probably the head of one of the more powerful merchant sects. That would also explain his questions, to a degree. Merchants weren't prone to trust anyone, even respected members of the Enclave society like Abercrombie. Am I even respected anymore, he thought suddenly?
He also realised the slight the General had used on Eagle. Master Eagle. I guess I'm not the only one who finds him annoying Abercrombie thought.
"With that in mind" continued the woman, "shall we discuss your more recent activities?"
There was a sound of rustling paper as the members of the Council turned over the pages of his file, heading straight for the last few pages.
"Ah, here we are...it says you've been assigned to the Research and Adaptation Department for the last 7 months" continued the woman.
"Yes ma'am"
"And what have been your duties during this time?"
"Our only duty was the capture and return of live Deathclaw specimens, ma'am" answered Abercrombie formally, although he knew all that and more was already in his file. These questions were just to gauge his reaction.
"Yes, now I see it...hmm, you've only brought back 3 so far?"
"Yes ma'am"
"...that is a low number, is it not?"
"Uh...yes, I suppose it is, ma'am"
"Is that your best explanation?" asked the first voice, a hint of boredom in his voice.
"All things considered I would count that number as a success actually, sir"
"A success? Please explain, captain" said the woman, "and please, speak freely"
Abercrombie had no idea what that last sentence truly meant. Did she want him to speak his honest opinion and basically speak out against his orders, practically a cardinal sin for an Enclave officer? Or did she want the clichéd 'company line' officers were taught to recite during their training? Was this a chance to turn his career around or would it continue to spiral downwards, a path it had taken ever since that damn Idaho mission.
He heard the creaking of chairs and the groaning of tables as several members of the Council leaned forward, their arms appearing in the light and leaning on their desks, obviously interested in what Abercrombie was going to say.
"It's a suicide run, ma'am" answered Abercrombie confidently. He figured his career was already in the toilet so bothering to consider whether it was ever going to change was pointless. If he was to be treated like an outcast then he might as well act like one. Still, this tough guy attitude didn't stop his heart from jumping in to his mouth.
"A suicide run?" she repeated, a hint of surprise in her voice.
"A suicide run!" growled the second voice angrily, the 'general' most likely regretting his decision to support the captain now.
"Please...ex plain what you mean" she asked.
"Deathclaws are vicious creatures" explained Abercrombie, taking a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, "much more vicious then the reports indicate. I've seen them continue charging despite suffering heavy damage, I even saw one tear a man in half despite missing one of its legs from the knee down. Our duty calls for my team and I to hunt these creatures down, but they live in packs and generally make nests in caves. One thing you must understand...they are highly dangerous out in the open, but put them in a small cave with several others of their kind and it's practically a death sentence for anyone willing to go in. Killing them alone is a tough enough task, but taking them alive...well, that takes more luck than skill...ma'am" he finished.
There were some grumblings from the back and Abercrombie even thought he heard someone whisper the words "coward" and "traitor".
"That is...a most interesting observation, Captain. This Council does not often hear direct opinions from the working classes" said the woman. "General?"
Abercrombie turned to look at the General and, for only a moment, he thought he saw a look of mild concern on his face. He was glad he hadn't looked at him earlier, to see a look like that on such a hardened man, after what Abercrombie had said, might have been enough to give the career soldier a heart attack.
"He is approved. Brief him immediately" said the woman. The General nodded, then bowed slightly, before turning to Abercrombie.
"Follow me" he whispered and headed to the door they had entered from, which Abercrombie now noticed was illuminated.
"That was intense" whispered Eagle and Abercrombie almost jumped. He had forgotten the man was there, he had stayed so quiet during the last 10 minutes that Abercrombie could scarcely believe it. Eagle never stayed quiet.
After a moment they emerged back in to the General's office, first the General, then Abercrombie and Eagle and finally Sundiata bringing up the rear, pressing the button to seal the door when he was through.
"You've been approved" stated the General, as if Abercrombie didn't already know. The man reached down, opened one of his draws, pulled something out and then tossed a file across the table towards Abercrombie. "Your new assignment"
Abercrombie picked up the file and opened it, scanning the first few pages. They were reports from various information sources, both Enclave and otherwise, that talked about a small group in Nevada. There was also topographical mapping of both northern Nevada and southern Idaho.
Idaho. He nearly choked when he read it again. Why was he being sent back there?
"Your new mission is entirely confidential...revealing what I am about to tell you will be considered an act of treason and will be punished to the full extent of your law, do you understand?" the General asked. Abercrombie nodded absently, still focused on the file. "I wonder, have you ever heard of the Regenerating Man?"
Abercrombie froze, his head slowly lifting to meet the General's eyes, almost hoping to see that the man was kidding. But he wasn't.
Abercrombie had heard the stories, just like everyone in the Enclave. Stories about a man, the last survivor of a Pre-War experiment, whose cells regenerated at a rapid rate. He was the Holy Grail to the Enclave; if they could capture him and replicate even a tenth of what he could do then their troop problem wouldn't be a problem anymore. More importantly, the man's cell regeneration effectively made him immortal, able to re-grow limbs and even organs in a matter of hours. If they could recreate that...the Enclave would be unstoppable, their new super soldiers would overcome the Brotherhood, the NCR, Polis...anyone that dared to stop them. Abercrombie's heart was beating again, faster than it had when he was with the Council.
The General seemed to notice his reaction. "Of course you have" he said as he answered his own question with a smooth smile, "that file is everything we have on him"
"Sir..." Abercrombie started, but wasn't sure where to start. He had so many questions. "Is this real?" he finally asked.
"Quite real, yes" said the General.
"And this is my new assignment?"
The General cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, as if he was about to tell Abercrombie some bad news. Abercrombie swore he felt heart stop beating for a moment as he waited for the answer.
"Yes" the General answered, after what felt like hours. In reality it was only a few moments, barely seconds, but Abercrombie's mind was buzzing so fast that he had no sense of time. Questions burst in to existence and answered themselves thousands of times a second and the process continued to repeat, over and over until his head felt like it was fuzzy, like it was stuffed full of some kind of cheap Bighorn wool that soaked up all his thoughts but wouldn't let him think either.
It was Eagle that snapped him back to reality. "What's my part, sir?"
"I would have thought that was obvious" said the General, a hint of irritation in his voice, "you're going to be the 2nd's pilot"
Eagle grinned so large his white teeth almost blinded Abercrombie. Abercrombie felt disappointed and even a little angry, but it didn't last long. He was still too excited about this assignment.
"When do we leave sir?" Abercrombie asked.
A slight smile appeared on the General's face. "As soon as possible, Captain." He stood and offered his hand. "Good hunting, both of you" he said, shaking both Abercrombie and Eagle's hands.
They both rose and shuffled to the door, Abercrombie still flicking through the file, trying to memorise as much of it as possible.
"Oh, one more thing Captain" said the General. Abercrombie turned back to see the General had another file in his hand. "Your new team member"
"Excuse me?"
"Corporal Stones...Diesel, I believe you called him...was your medic. Correct?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And he is now gone?"
"Yes..."
"Then here is his replacement. Corporal William Hart, a fine young doctor"
Abercrombie took the file and scanned it quickly, wondering what it was the kid had done to get transferred to the irregulars. He knew this whole 'replacement' thing was just an excuse to get rid of the poor kid.
His file wasn't exactly flattering. He had been transferred around several times before, with numerous officers citing his laziness and arrogance as reasons. He was good though, so the Council always found a spot for him. It wasn't until the 5th page that Abercrombie spotted what he was looking for.
Under the man's recent operations he saw that an undisclosed young male had died on the operating table. The child had had lung cancer and the pre-surgery notes listed that it was a long shot at best, but it seemed he was still getting the blame. More than likely it had been a Council member's kid. At least, that was the only thing Abercrombie could think of that would make an outcast out of someone with his skills. He nodded towards the General, hoping the man took it as a 'thanks', then strode out the door. Eagle was waiting for him, much to Abercrombie's annoyance.
"How sweet is this?" beamed Eagle, practically skipping down the hallway. "Finally we get to work together!"
Abercrombie ignored him. He now had two files to memorise and a stop to make before the biggest assignment of his life. He found it slightly annoying, but mentally shrugged it off. It was just one of those things, he guessed.
Sundiata unfolded his arms as the pair left and sunk into one of the chairs in front of the General's desk.
"Do you really think they'll find him?" he asked. The General snorted derisively.
"Not at all," the General answered, "our agent that gave us the information has reported that they have them in sight and are about to join whatever adventure they're currently on"
"Then why put Abercrombie on it?" wondered Sundiata. The General turned to stare at him.
"How long have you been with me?" he asked. The big man shrugged.
"5...maybe 6 years"
"And you have to ask that question?"
Sundiata's normally stony face had a look of confusion on it, or as much as it could show. The General sighed.
"Because we don't want Abercrombie or his group of freaks at the Stand" he answered, turning away to rummage through his desk draws for something. "At the least it will occupy their time and might even, if we're lucky, lead to their deaths"
"If I might ask sir..."
The General stopped. "There is no formality here, Barger. Ask your questions"
"Why don't we just kill him?"
"Because despite his shameful behaviour as an officer the last few years he still has allies, even as high up as the Council itself. Although he probably lost a few after that last meeting" he said with a slight smile, "if I had known it would be that easy to alienate him I would have put him before them years ago"
Sundiata just nodded. Politics and the like went right over the big man's head, but he was just fine with that. Killing was his business and he stuck to it.
"So what now?"
"Now? We wait" said the General, finally finding what he was looking for. It was a cigar, thin but long. He produced a lighter as well to light it. "And hope that everything goes according to plan...for once"