Chapter 14

Nostalgia

"My friend, you would not tell with such high zest to children ardent for some desperate glory, the Old Lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori."

-Wilfred Owen

The world constantly picks on and belittles the good, or so it seems. So it is, and so it is not. It is the duty of someone with a kindly nature to be strong, because it's typically more difficult to be good in the face of corruption than it is to succumb to the vices that claim so many others.

Vanity and speech never cease to amaze me. It's a miracle we as people can even communicate with each other. I can't describe nothing as "nothing", because the world itself is something. It exists, though it may not be tangible. The best way I can describe "nothing" is by staying my tongue.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened to me after my sexual act. I was a hypocrite in my own eyes and I made sure I did not say a word of what happened into the radio, for fear of how Nikolai might react. I feared he might try to use it as an excuse to kill me. Granted, he was going to find out sooner or later, but I'd rather he found out about my pregnancy later, in a secure camp full of witnesses.

Call it hypocrisy or determination. I was still, while developing a bastard child of the Legion, intent on destroying the thing that spawned he or she. No, I wouldn't abort the child. It's not the baby's fault...

It's my own fault, but I did it to save my own hide, and Dogmeat's, and Fortitude's, and the world's, even. Therefore, was it something I had to do?

That's why I feel nothing. I feel so much regarding this child that I was going to keep (boy or girl, it would be raised as I was, minus my running out of Vault 101 on it) that I felt... nothing.

Dogmeat never gave me a moment's peace. He was always by my side (as if he left before any of this happened). I wasn't showing much yet, but it was enough to be a little noticeable. The only thing that kept me from breaking down completely in my efforts was the idea that not only is a woman causing so much grief for the Legion, but a pregnant woman is causing that grief for the Legion.

I'd been getting more training than sleeping with my sniper rifle in the few weeks since I discovered the consequence of my actions. Moving targets are much more valuable to a trainee than a stationary one is, and even a stationary target can be difficult to hit.

I'd been finding headshots on creatures easier now. No, it's not that I can hit everything in the head in one hit, but rather, I'm more likely to hit something in the head if the target's big enough and near enough. My sleep deprivation was my trainer. Whenever I shut my eyes, I thought about my baby, and my actions. In a sense, it was the very enemy I was slowly disgracing that taught me how to survive one more trick they might throw at me.

I spent most of my trip in and out of range of a radio station. It was a station in Santa Fe called "Liberty Rock Radio" with its host, Iggy. Santa Fe was a highly rebellious state, though it is still a Legionary territory. It's rebellious nature is why it calls its radio "Liberty Rock Radio", and not "Santa Fe Rock".

I know what you're thinking. I asked the same thing when I made my rare trip to a Bed and Breakfast. Until then, I didn't know Santa Fe didn't consider itself part of "New Mexico" anymore. The lady at the Bed and Breakfast I stayed at told me the incredible story of how Santa Fe supposedly claimed its independence from the state of New Mexico, the state that, in my opinion, did absolutely nothing wrong to it.

I could tell you the thrilling story (it was the first time I felt sleepy in a week), but here's the whole thing in a nutshell:

About 150 years ago, Santa Fe apparently decided that New Mexico was treating it terribly, even though any semblance of power that was remaining in New Mexico ultimately ended up saving the capital from an untimely demise by the hands of repeated raider attacks. The War on Raiders sapped whatever economy the state had left, and so the remaining leaders of New Mexico taxed its people. Santa Fe said no, the two sides fought, Santa Fe got the aid of folks from El Paso, and eventually New Mexico surrendered...

...by which I mean it cut its losses and essentially said it couldn't care less what Santa Fe did or felt. So now, according to the folks of Santa Fe, the United Wastes of America's flag should have fifty-two stars, not fifty-one (Canada was considered a state after its annexation).

As I was saying, Santa Fe rebelled against New Mexico, and it also rebelled against the Legion. The Legion considers Santa Fe still "Santa Fe, New Mexico". They were irritated by constant acts of insubordination on the side of any in Santa Fe. The camp in the "state" had to send for reinforcements, but as I've mentioned over and over again, the Legion's numbers are thin.

They mustered something else together for the special case of Santa Fe. They got together a force that I thought I was completely done with.

I don't know how or when they got the mind-controlled deathclaws of the Enclave into their ranks, but I assumed it had something to do with the plants that assisted in my attack on the Enclave years ago... or perhaps they already had the means of making these devices from other Enclave camps.

It didn't matter where they came from at the time. I recall riding Fortitude, and all was well. Dogmeat was walking next to me, and it was all quiet. The camp was just on the horizon, the night was totally clear, and I was relaxed for once.

Suddenly, I hear what sounded something like a roar, and Fortitude collapsed beneath me with a loud, excruciating grunt. I discovered ragdoll physics on my way down with him, and I fell onto my back in what I assumed was my horse's entrails.

He wasn't even dead yet. He was still moving, his horrified eyes met mine... and I looked up at the attacker and saw a deathclaw being attacked by Dogmeat. He was holding my angry dog at bay, and I saw the glimmer of the mind-control device on his head. I drew my handgun and shot for his neck, knowing my small arms fire would do little to nothing otherwise.

I fired three shots with my suppressed weapon, and one of those three managed to hit the beast where I wanted: the deathclaw equivalent of the carotid artery. Dogmeat knew what I was trying to do, and he continued struggling in the beast's paws so it couldn't counter accurately. He continued in such a manner until the deathclaw slowly sunk to the ground and expired from the loss of blood.

Once Dogmeat got up (he was unharmed), I stood too and looked at Fortitude again. I was correct in my earlier assumption. The deathclaw's swipe managed to disembowel my horse, and he was slowly dying. I knew there was nothing I could do here to fix it, and I wasn't going to let him suffer any more. I placed my palm on Fortitude's uninjured shoulder, played with his mane a little, shook my head, and I ended his misery with a bullet to the head.

I wasn't going to have a repeat of Cord's agonizing death.

I took my equipment from Fortitude's corpse, tears threatening to leak down my cheeks at any time (I didn't break down because Fortitude wasn't as close to me as Cord was). I split the weight with Dogmeat, and I dreaded the thought of making this trip on foot. I love to travel, but... I have a deadline.

Very shortly after I divided the weight, I looked back at the deathclaw and took a look at his mind-control device.

"Dogmeat," I whispered. He looked up at me. "If you can, try to crush that thing on their heads and then put distance between you and any you attack. This way, they might attack any nearby Legionaries, too."

He blinked at me and nodded twice in understanding. He's such a smart dog...

As we walked on, we encountered no more trouble until we covered about half the distance between us and the camp. We both took cover behind a large boulder immediately (I then scrambled up the boulder and peered through my sniper scope). There were five deathclaws and three Legionaries. They looked like they saw Dogmeat and I move behind the boulder, because the Legionaries were holding the boulder at gunpoint. I suppose they only didn't see me atop the big rock because I was in a smooch at the top.

I reasoned that disabling one of those mind control traps would raise a lot more hell than simply killing one of the Legionaries, so I aimed for the middle deathclaw (he was of a different complexion than his tan skinned brethren). He'd raised his snout into the air and was trying to catch either my scent or Dogmeat's, and I clipped the mind control device.

Before anybody could react (at the time, I wasn't even sure I hit the device), I'd already shot out another of the devices. The third attempt backfired. Rather than hit the machine, I accidently killed the deathclaw.

The first deathclaw I "freed" crumbled to the ground in a heap. I thought I might have killed him, because deathclaws wearing the mind control devices sometimes had a habit of abruptly dying (I assumed the Legion resolved that issue to some extent). The second deathclaw I freed quickly smacked the shiny device from the fourth deathclaw's head, and that deathclaw freed the fifth.

With the pale deathclaw still unconscious, the tan three went after the Legionaries (they'd already started running the moment the pale deathclaw crumbled). It's impossible to outrun a deathclaw in full stampede, so needless to say, the three Legionaries fell quickly.

This entire time, the three were taking fire from other Legionaries (likely additional guards, because the camp was still a good four miles away). There was nobody coming my way, so I figured they thought the deathclaws broke free of the hold on their own. I slowly got down from the boulder and hid for several minutes, waiting for the gunfire to quiet down.

Dogmeat was growling and glaring at the pale deathclaw. I slowly peeked my head around the boulder to look at it and I saw it regain its feet slowly. Its eyes were squeezed shut like it had a migraine, and its paws were clutching its head. I was already looking for a way around the beast.

The deathclaw wasn't walking around. It was woozy, stumbling back and forth. I snuck through some tall grass without time to don my ghillie suit, all while keeping an eye on the beast. Dogmeat followed my lead, moving slowly and quietly, all while eyeing the pale deathclaw.

As we got closer, the deathclaw (I figured out it was a male as we passed closest to him) opened his eyes and sniffed at the air. As fate would have it, my scent was being blown towards him. He turned towards me and I quickly aimed my SRS at him.

I give my inability to quickly scope and shoot the credit for keeping the deathclaw alive long enough to do what he did. He didn't sprint at me and try to kill me, and he didn't growl to warn me off or anything. He put his paws out, almost as if he were... surrendering.

He looked nothing like Cord. Cord didn't have pale skin like this deathclaw did (his skin was the same tannish color as the other deathclaws). Even so, once I saw his paws go out like that, I looked at his face and saw his honest intentions.

This wasn't just a deathclaw. It was albino, for one thing, and it was also one of the endangered intelligent deathclaws, if the phrase it uttered was any indication.

"Hold your fire. Please do not shoot. I am not one of my lesser minded brothers."

I slowly stood with his words, and my lens swayed more and more as I stood tall. I was shaking, and he was approaching slowly, with his paws still out like he was surrendering. I dropped my weapon, and squeezed my eyes shut, burning as I kept tears in.

I felt him gently put one paw on my arm and I whirled away, walking a few steps before falling to my knees. Behind me, I heard the mind-control device clatter to the ground, and the deathclaw stood by my side, no doubt looking down at me as I sobbed.

His first few sentences were all it took for memories of everything I've done and had happen to me in the past four years to come rushing back to me. From my Dad dying to granting Fortitude a mercy-killing, I was experiencing it all again.

I felt the deathclaw once again place his paw on my shoulder, likely very unsure of what to do about my sudden collapse. I reasoned he learned somewhere of what humans do to reassure one another, or else he might've avoided physical contact.

I kept on like that for what felt like forever. Dogmeat was cuddling against me to offer me any means of comfort he could, and the deathclaw did what he could, in spite of how awkward he must have felt. On one of the few moments I opened my eyes, I saw Dogmeat glaring at the deathclaw and warning him off from any further contact with me distrustfully.

When I finally regained my composure, I looked up at the deathclaw. He smiled down at me.

"Thank you for destroying the mind-box on my head," he said. "It is nice to control my own thoughts once more."

"Your welcome, I guess. Wha... Who are you? What do you call yourself?"

He let out a snort, which, after time spent with Cord, I knew was some degree of chuckling.

"I have no birth name, as my father kept himself busy travelling with a man not unlike you."

I blinked. "A man with a vendetta?"

"A man on a mission. You are not the only human to speak to deathclaws."

I stared. He crouched as well as he could so he could be my height.

"My father... maybe you know him?"

"...Uhh... was his name..."

I gulped. This was weird...

"...Cord?"
The deathclaw shook his head and my relief was overwhelming. I think I saw Dogmeat let out a sigh of relief, too. That would've been beyond strange.

"His name was Goris, and his father was named Gruthar. Ring any bells?"

I shook my head slowly. "I've heard of intelligent deathclaws before, but not by specific names."

"What of this 'Cord'?"

I looked at my feet. "That's another story entirely."

There was a pause, and I eyed the deathclaw again. "So, your name?"

"As I mentioned, I was not given a birth name. I'd only heard a few stories of my father's travels, and the fate of his father."

"Surely you prefer to be called something..."

He smiled at me again, and I let some degree of a smile back at him.

"These mind-boxes... they need to be maintained endlessly by these foolish humans. Thus, when they are removed, we deathclaws are caged. Sometimes, we are not knocked completely unconscious by whatever toxins they use on us. In my recess with the capability of free thought, I'd eavesdrop."

I stared, and the deathclaw continued speaking.

"These men... they've heard my speech before. When they heard it, it was not great, but it was still speech. In another tongue, they'd refer to me as 'In argutus unus'. Through years with these people, I learned two tongues."

He smiled down at me again. "I took to the word "Argutus", for it does justice to my mind. Intelligent. Argutus, you see?"

I smiled up at him. "Arrogant, aren't we?"

He snorted again, and gently patted the top of my head as if I were a small child.

"Aware, that is all."

"How did you learn to speak so well?" I asked him.

"As I mentioned, when I was still conscious during my brief reprieves from the control of those people, I would listen to men speak, and I would learn as well as I can."

"...I thought that the intelligent deathclaws were wiped out..." I mused, my head finally clearing a bit.

"We were nearly extinct. Had my father been home, we would have been. He was, as I mentioned, travelling when the slaughter on his herd took place. He didn't get home in time to assist. The deathclaws, along with most of the humans they sheltered, were all dead, and the guilty party was already gone."

I sighed, Argutus let out what I thought was a sigh, and all was silent for what felt like days.

"So, what can I do?" he asked after our reprieve. I blinked.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He smiled at me.

"You saved me from slavery. How can I repay the favor?" he asked. The slightest shiver went down my spine. He was so much like Cord... and yet so diffent.

I saved Cord from slavery, as I had saved Argutus from slavery. Cord essentially cut all ties with his parents for fear of their health, and Argutus did not know his father so well. Cord was a human trapped in the body of a deathclaw, and Argutus showed a similar personality...

One offered to help me find my father in an old garage, and the other is asking what he can do for me as well!

Yet... Cord was not a true deathclaw. He was a human like me at one point. Argutus had always been a deathclaw. Cord was silly, kind, and a good friend... but I was not so sure about this deathclaw yet. He seemed kindly, but his attitude towards me was different somehow. The way he eyed me as he awaited my response seemed full of...

I mentally smacked myself as I remembered being asked a question.

"You don't have to help me with anyth-"

"I must. You aided me, though it was not intentional. It is only fair that I assist you, too, so please... make a request."

I thought for a minute. The way he stared at me, I could tell he was ardent to do whatever he could to help me, and he would not leave me without making good on his promise of some type of assistance.

I couldn't send him into the camp and ask him to covertly kill Romulus, because I had a feeling that would be sending him to death, or back to slavery. As I thought over my options, I lit up.

He must've saw the evil smile on my face, because he got closer to hear what I had to say.

"Argutus, how do you feel about putting that thing back on your head for a little while?"

It was through the employment of a trojan horse that I got safely through the front lines of Romulus' camp. I slowly walked forward with Argutus' paws wrapped around my belly (I had a gun concealed under one of his big paws, which I intended on using to kill off Romulus, and I held a smoke grenade in my other hand that I picked up while re-supplying in town). Dogmeat was slumped limp over the deathclaw's shoulder, feigning either death or unconsciousness, and both of my arms were pinned to my sides (with one hand holding the gun, of course).

Argutus was wearing the device on his head again, and though it was still broken, he walked and acted in such a way that it seemed to the Legionary guard that he was still under their command.

Few Legionary guards even spared me a second look. None took the time to curse me or to hit me, as such behavior would suggest weakness, disorganization, or the idea that what I was doing was taking its toll. They wanted to give me no such luxury should I be captured.

I was taken straight to Romulus, and two Legionary guards were posted by our sides, likely to ensure that I would not escape.

When I was presented before Romulus... my reception was completely different from Maxwell. The two guards with us were not sent away, and Argutus was not sent off, either. The Centurion eyed me up and down and I felt like I needed a bath right away.

"This is the profligate causing us grief?"

I didn't hear anything muttered in response, so I assume one of the guards gave a brief nod, because the man slapped me across the face with the back of his hand. He'd regret it.

"You are a brash fool, woman. You come into my land, intending to kill me, because you think we are evil. Isn't that it?"

I didn't respond, but I was not slapped again, either.

"We are trying to unite this land! With the strong at the top and the weak in support, we will be unstoppable. What is wrong with rebuilding this country?"

I was still silent.

"Is this because of your deathclaw? He was trained well. I must commend you for that. Nonetheless... why could you not go out in honor by the hand of the Legion? Had you only said the word we'd have granted a soldier's death."

"This is not about the attempt on my life," I whispered. "This is about your existence."

Romulus was silent and stoic, allowing me to continue.

"You have shown nothing but abuse since the day you vermin began parading about as men. You speak of uniting this land, but considering the banner of the bull, where slavery is acceptable and women are inferior, I'd rather a second nuclear apocalypse."

He continued staring, and I looked at the Legionaries that had surrounded us by now (at this point, the entire camp was on us- about 15 strong. I already had three targets and I knew where I would take cover). I eyed them all for several seconds.

"Days after my best friend was killed by you disgusting monsters, I set out and already killed one Legionary Centurion. Am I inferior? I will have a bastard child, because I killed his father. I stabbed him to death in his own tent with a pen knife. Am I still inferior? By the time I reach New Vegas, I will have caused the Legion more grief than the NCR has in four years."

"What makes you think you will be leaving here alive?" asked Romulus. Under Argutus' paw, I removed the pin to the smoke grenade with my thumb and prepared to drop it.

"Here," I said. "Let me show you."

At these words, Argutus released me, and stepped back. The smoke grenade clattered to the ground as the deathclaw promptly killed the two guards by each of his sides. Dogmeat sprang to life and began his own attack.

The smoke blew, and three bullets found Romulus' heart.

With the smoke now covering Romulus and I, I dove behind a desk and pushed it over. Nobody shot in my direction until the smoke cleared, for fear of hitting Romulus (the suppressor on my pistol combined with the sound of claws rending flesh hid my report).

As my dog and Argutus worked on more of the Legionaries, the smoke slowly cleared. While it was still somewhat covering me, I saw a man with a Barrett M82 (the weapon that killed Cord) try to take aim at Argutus.

He didn't have time to look through the scope before I shot him as well. My time out of cover, however, allowed for a stray bullet to catch me in the chest. Dogmeat's head shot to look at me, and Argutus glanced at me when they both heard the loud "SMACK".

I fell onto my back and for a few moments I could not breathe. I was wearing a kevlar vest, but they say that even if your armor blocks the bullet, you can still be injured or even die. My breathing was labored and I was starting to see white spots, and I feared I had a collapsed lung. While Argutus and Dogmeat thinned the heard, I wrestled my knife from its home on my leg and cut off my shirt, and then I removed the armor.

No blood was staining my undershirt, but I was still having a problem breathing. I felt dizzy and nauseous, and I pilled a syringe from my pocket (it turned out to be a stimpak). I didn't inject myself with the stimpak, but I rather stabbed myself between two of my ribs, and left the syringe in my body as I caught my breath again. I prayed nothing ill happened to the baby, and I prayed that nothing harmed my dog or this deathclaw that was rapidly becoming a new friend.

I slowly propped myself up against the desk and held my pistol in case a legionary came around here, but by the time I regained myself totally the gunfire I'd been hearing quieted, and a few moments after I acknowledged the change in volume, the last weapon being fired went silent.

Dogmeat was the first one around the desk, likely terrified that I was... hurt. He sighed in relief and fell beside me, waiting for me to stand. Argutus came around not three seconds after Dogmeat fell. He took very few bullets. I think his disgust with the Legion might have assisted in his evasiveness, but I don't know for certain.

I was fingering one of the six new dings in Dogmeat's robotic body when Argutus spoke.

"You're injured," he plainly said. I nodded, still catching my breath (and trying not to remove the stimpak, because I didn't know what would happen if I did). Argutus found his way in front of me and gently lifted me up, being careful not to move the syringe after seeing my pause.

"Let me take you to town," he said. "Perhaps once you've made some sort of recovery, we can talk about where we stand."

I responded breathlessly with a nod and a smile. The deathclaw carried me and my equipment, and he walked gently so as not to disturb me any more. I carefully knocked the broken mind-control device from his noggin and we continued walking back to town.

So much like Cord... and yet so different.

End of Chapter

4,479 words.

"...was it something I had to do?" No, Mildred. Mr. Finley here just loooves hurting you. And drinking scotch.

I'm not exactly sure what to make of Canada after it was annexed. Would it be one state, or would various provinces be different states? I asked Terrance and Phillip, and they farted on each other and ran away laughing, so I'm still without an answer.

Argutus is not here as Cord's replacement. He's to be similar and different, and is a nod to Goris, the talking intelligent deathclaw of Fallout 2. He's here to answer a question I have. I'll find out the answer at the conclusion of this story.

I recall that stabbing yourself with a needle or a syringe is supposedly good for re-inflating a collapsed lung. I don't know what happens next, though.

Next chapter is going to likely be shorter, because I'm going to go a different route. We'll see how it works out.