General Oliver limped along with his Veteran Rangers, hurrying back out to the NCR side of the dam. He had minor cuts all over his body, and had suffered what was probably a severed hamstring. Stimpacks were the only reason he was conscious, and Med-X was the only reason he wasn't blinded by pain.
The Legion had, as Moore reported, attacked from both the upper and lower levels. Several pockets of NCR troops were surrounded and slaughtered, or dragged off to slavery or slow, horrible deaths by crucifixion. They breached most of the NCR defensive positions, although determined attacks from the Rangers and heavy shock troops retook many of those positions for a time.
He stepped over dozens of dead or dying soldiers from both armies. The smell of their blood, waste, and vomit in the Nevadan heat was unbearable. The insides of the dam were like a hot metal oven, not meant to accommodate thousands of people running around.
Two of his four Veteran Ranger bodyguards were dead, stabbing and brutalizing Legionaries until their last breaths. The two who remained were injured, many of them with ragged wounds where Legion soldiers had stabbed or shot them at point blank range, in weak points in their armor. Between their knives and their now-empty guns, they had probably killed 20 Legionaries, and injured many more. But it hadn't been enough.
In addition, Moore had disappeared, and most of his heavy troopers had been slaughtered.
A couple NCR platoons had arrived from elsewhere, probably McCarran. Oliver identified Colonel Hsu.
"Colonel," he said. "Thank God you're here. Tell your men to go in there and reinforce mine."
"General," replied Hsu. "McCarran was attacked by the Fiends. I left just before the fighting began."
"I know. Don't worry, before we were forced out of my office, the radio report sounded as if the McCarran garrison was holding them off. But we've got bigger problems here. The Legion has pushed us nearly all the way out of the Dam. Most of our units are badly depleted or non-responsive. We need backup NOW."
"Understood. But there's another problem. 1st Recon has reported that there is activity at Fortification Hill. Earlier, we spotted a large force of Legion soldiers behind the main attacking group. Now, they've retreated back to the camp. We think that they may be holding much of their forces for a second attack."
"Well that's why you've got to get the Legion back to their side of the damn NOW, damnit! Before they can launch it!" He spat off to the side.
Hsu and his men ran off to the dam. Oliver felt a pang of guilt and fear, which overpowered his hatred of the Legion and the cocktail of drugs he was on. He was sending a lot of good men and women to their deaths. He and Kimble had done this many times. But it was a necessity, especially now. He'd prepared for a large, decisive battle, rather than a campaign of raids and counter-raids. This meant that if he failed, the Dam, the Mojave, and all of his credibility would be lost.
Over the wind and the distant gunfire, the General heard a humming sound. Oliver and the Rangers looked up to see the shape of a vertibird flying toward the dam.
"Is that Secret Service?" he asked. "Are we getting additional reinforcements?"
The vertibird flew closer and descended slowly, landing on their side of the dam. Oliver and the Rangers jogged toward it as one of its hatches opened.
"Wait… I don't recognize that aircraft's markings."
Five men climbed out. Three of them wore alien-looking armor, slimmer than that worn by heavy troopers but probably powered. One of them wore medical fatigues, and one of them, an unfamiliar officer's outfit.
"Who are the he- who are you?" asked Oliver to one of the armored men, trying not to appear to hostile, partially out of fear.
The man removed his helmet. Oliver immediately recognized it as the Courier, the elusive "hero" of the Republic.
"Ah, thank God. You're here to help us deal with the Legion?" he said. The Courier nodded. He and the others moved quickly ahead. Oliver decided to abstain from further questions.
A loud shouting came from further ahead. Legionaries began pouring out of the doors from the inside of the dam. NCR soldiers immediately took cover and began firing on them. The Legionaries took up much of the abandoned cover and returned fire. Grenades and spears landed around them, and Oliver ducked down behind some crates.
"Kill the profligates! Kill them all! We've enough prisoners!" shouted a tall Centurion with distinctive mutton-chops.
The Courier and his men waded into the enemy mob. Bullets and spears bounced off their armor harmlessly. The Courier carried a large, wicked-looking weapon with three prongs on the end. He pointed it at the Centurion who had spoken. A blinding green wisp flew out and incinerated the man and the men next to him, turning them into hot green ash. The Courier's bodyguards carried multi-barreled lasers, which scythed through dozens of Legionaries in a few seconds with their bright orange beams.
The crowd of Legion soldiers began to part to avoid the five of them. Small groups of them charged the power armored newcomers to be blasted apart or beaten savagely with their guns. The Courier stabbed one of them with the front of his weapon, and then threw him off the side of the dam. The rest of the Legionaries began to fall back, into oncoming recruits, who were presented with a frightening and unexpected slaughter.
Lanius sneered behind his bronze mask as he watched the battle from his camp. This day, the Bear was to be dealt a mortal wound. A wound from which it would never recover. This was the hardest step, and yet it seemed so easy. Tens of thousands of slaves and a fortune in plunder awaited their conquest.
He didn't like the idea of the two-stage attack, but despite his initial objection, he did realize that the feeble Republican cowards might try something underhanded. Much as he hated to admit it, he'd respected Joshua, and he knew that the Burned Man would have been more careful if he had a second chance.
Even so, he hadn't heard from either Lucius or the other senior centurions for some time. He was certain that the second wave should have attacked by now.
"Ave, Legate."
The huge man turned to a scout, who looked exhausted. His clothing was soaked with blood.
"You have news from Fortification Hill?"
"Legate, everyone… dead." the scout said as he doubled over to breathe, trying his best not to look weak or incapable in front of the now-leader of the Legion.
"What?" asked Lanius, his voice low and threatening.
"The Praetorians… the veteran cohorts… Fortification Hill is destroyed. The veteran… cohorts are scattered."
Lanius grew tired of listening to this senile wastrel. He slowly unsheathed his enormous sword. In one swift motion, he leapt into the air and cut the scout in half. Dozens of men stopped what they were doing and brought their attention to him.
"The leader of the Praetorian Guard is slow and indecisive! He is past his prime!" shouted the Legate, his powerful voice partially muffled by his mask. "Even far from the front lines, he fails in his simple duties! If he lives, I will personally kill him when the battle is over!"
Gradually, more scouts and wounded soldiers entered the Legate's camp. Several reported that things were going badly both at the fort and at the dam. They talked of unstoppable metal killing machines routing the Legion armies.
"Cowards! These are nothing but Oliver's feeble retinue! We have faced them before, and should easily be able to prevail!"
His presence instilled fear into many of the battered Legionaries, and he severed many heads and limbs in order to beat his flagging army into shape. But they kept returning, fleeing from unknown, unthinkable forces that struck more fear into them than he did. Although the Legate himself knew not what it was like to be frightened, he couldn't shake feelings of unease and uncertainty.
"There shall be no retreat from the Bear! Any soldier who flees from them will be killed by my own hand! If you fight, you may lose your lives, but if you retreat, your death will be a certainty!"
A bullet hit his mask, bouncing off. Lanius looked to see a squad of NCR Rangers low on the dark, rocky steps leading to where he was. Lanius and several Praetorians sprinted over to them. Two bullets hit one Praetorian, who collapsed and fell down the steps. Several more hit Lanius's armor, but even match-grade bullets fired from their powerful lever-action carbines did nothing more than dent it. When he and the Praetorians reached them, they slaughtered the interlopers. One of them charged Lanius with a knife. He laughed as his Blade of the East severed the man's spine.
More NCR soldiers entered the camp. The rest of the Legate's Praetorian guard swarmed them, but several men blasted through them and approached the Legate. These men looked different from the rest of them. Their form-fitting armor covered their whole bodies, and it was more robust in appearance than that of Veteran Rangers, but less than that of heavy troopers. Their faces were covered by monstrous masks, with rounded eyes and animal-like snouts, and chords that went around the sides to the backs of their heads.
On seeing that the Legate wasn't going to immediately attack, the lead man took his helmet off.
The man's face. It matched descriptions he'd heard before. This was that troublesome man who had been helping the Republic.
"An envoy of Vegas," he said to the man. "Yet you carry yourself for battle. If so, you cannot truly be of that city of cowards."
"If you think you've got any chance of taking Hoover Dam, you're wrong," he replied, suspiciously calm.
"Many graves in the East are filled with those who said as much, with braver words, not backed by strength. It is Caesar's will this gate to the west bear the flag of the Legion. Caesar's will shall be done."
"Maybe you're willing to listen to reason."
Lanius was disappointed. He thought for a second that this "Courier" would prove a satisfying challenge.
"I see you fight with words, like all beneath the banner of the Bear. Let us hope your skill with weapons proves greater."
The Courier looked at him, as if he was going to say something profound. Then he smiled, rolled his eyes, and raised a strange-looking weapon.
"I'm sick of talking. Let's end this."
Lanius was insulted by this man's mocking tone, and the fact that he humored him with the request for "diplomacy".
He raised his sword and lunged at the Courier.
A searing green light flashed, and suddenly, he was blinded and deafened by a powerful explosion. His frontal armor was vaporized. He hit the ground on his chest, and felt molten metal fusing with his skin on his arms and legs. He tried to scream, but his throat was burned through to his spine. The pain was brief, as the heat had burned his nerves away. The last moments of the Monster of the East were silent, dark, and miserably helpless. He didn't even notice the merciful bullet of the NCR ranger's pistol pierce through the liquefied back of his helmet and into his skull.