Chapter Twenty-Four
It was a very silent walk to the raider settlement between Patrick and Colonel Granger. To break the monotony, Patrick flipped his Pip-Boy to DBS radio. It was staticky, often cut out, and was jammed by The Brotherhood of Steel every so often, but occasionally the news would come through.
"DBS News and the Winnipeg Tribune-Press held a poll last month, asking 769 people what they think of several topics of importance. For the first time in five years of Prime Minister Richard Hawkson's term, the overall perception is that Assiniboia is on the right track. Fifty-six percent of those asked said that they approve of Assiniboia's prospects, with many mentioning The Auxiliary and his actions as being a major contributor to the forward development of Assiniboia."
Patrick wondered how that came to be. He hadn't been in Assiniboia for a couple weeks, so hadn't heard what great things DBS was claiming Patrick, or rather the Auxiliary, had done. At this point he wouldn't have been surprised if they claimed he was the guy that found the lost City of The Thompas up north.
"Secretary Creighton Hawthorne of the Enclave gave a speech to the Assiniboia Legislative Assembly yesterday, saying that 'The Enclave is the natural partner of Assiniboia,' and praised the efforts of diplomats of both nations to reach a fair and equal deal to help the Wasteland and North America."
Patrick bit his lip, and looked over at Colonel Granger, walking several steps ahead of Patrick. He should have heard the radio from where he was. Colonel Granger should know what Patrick's feelings were at the moment, so it was nice that the Colonel dared not say anything, though Patrick couldn't get past the possibility that there was a reason he didn't tell Patrick.
There was some other news, mostly on issues with the Brotherhood of Steel. But soon after the announcer started talking about it, the signal was interrupted with blaring static, and it was like that for the rest of the day. Patrick did find a classical music station, one without announcers or advertising, so he just left the radio on that despite his lack of interest in the content. Maybe a pre-war station that was still running despite all the odds.
They camped out in the middle of the wasteland, and set out again the next morning. They were still quiet, barely talking to each other as they continued walking to the location marked on Patrick's Pip-Boy Map. A couple radgophers popped up, chattering and squeaking to each other, but quickly burrowed underground again when the two walked by. A family of radstag's also kept their distance, only bleating pathetically to the trespassers as they walked by before sprinting away. But except for the radio on his Pip-Boy, the only noise was the wind rustling through short grasses, dead trees, abandoned towns and farms.
"It is quiet out here," Patrick said to himself. His eyes darted continuously over the landscape, hoping to catch anything that may show up before it would try to get him. The longer he didn't see anything, the more uncomfortable and nervous he became.
They arrived at an old barn, with huge chunks seemingly torn out of it, standing in the middle of the wasteland. Patrick and Colonel Granger each grabbed a bottle of water, filled with filtered water in an old Nuka Cola bottle, from Patrick's backpack, and began to drink.
"How much further?" Colonel Granger asked.
"About five miles," Patrick said. "But they may have patrols out here, so we should be careful."
Granger nodded, and turned around to throw the empty glass bottle into the ruins of the barn.
The bottle thudded against something. A low growl made Patrick freeze, before slowly turning around to see what that noise was. He took a closer look at the barn, and realized that there were massive scratch marks on the walls, made by claws that sliced through the barnwood like a hot knife through butter.
"Colonel," Patrick said, as something big began to stir, the growls getting louder. "I think you might have wanted to keep that bottle."
There was a massive roar, making even the Enclave officer shudder. He quickly grabbed the Red Alert, resting it on his shoulder and charging the weapon. Patrick didn't even bother with his .44 of 10mm, and quickly pulled out his assault rifle.
A massive hand, with four foot long claws clutching the side, burst out of the hole that Granger threw the water bottle into, followed by a massive head, with massive teeth, reptilian eyes, and fierce horns perched on top like a demonic crown. It whipped its head back and forth, sniffing the area, before turning it's head straight at Colonel Granger and Patrick. It roared again, and leaped out of it's hole, charging at Colonel Granger.
The Colonel had nearly dropped the Red Alert, but sprang back. The creature swung a massive clawed hand at Colonel Granger, who was able to jump backwards again, dodging the first swipe. He was not as lucky with the second swipe, which caught the side of his Power Armor and flinging him to the side, flying several feet in the air before landing in a heap. Colonel Granger tried to get up, but he groaned as his aching body, and the power armor he was wearing, was pushed harder than it could handle without any notice. The creature jumped right to Colonel Granger, and raised his hand to hit the dazed soldier again.
Patrick pulled the trigger of this assault rifle aimed at the side of his chest, but the .556 bullets seemed to bounce off the scaled armor, barely causing a scratch. The monster turned to Patrick, several feet away. Forgetting about Colonel Granger, the overgrown lizard raced at Patrick, his arms out and ready to strike.
Patrick fired again, this time aimed at the eyes, as he ran backwards. None of the bullets hit the creatures sensitive spots. The monster was faster and quickly caught up, and Patrick jumped to the side when the creature pounced, missing Patrick by a hair. Patrick began to run again, this time heading to the barn. He glanced behind to see the creature look under its claws, but then quickly turn to see Patrick run away, and gave chase.
Patrick got to the barn before the monster did, but the ten foot tall beast reached out to grab Patrick. It's claws dug into the side of the wall, trapping Patrick in it's grip. He dropped his assault rifle just out of reach.
However, it couldn't flex it's fingers to squeeze the human it had in its grasp, with its claws dug into the wood. It tried, and managed to get closer and closer each time.
"Duck Patrick!" Colonel Granger barked. Patrick instinctively slipped down along the wall, sitting hard on the ground. He then rolled away as best as he could, though the thrashing monster's legs were trying to dig into the ground to pull out from the side of the barn.
A loud electric pow, followed by the crack of thunder, came from where Granger was standing. White and blue bolts of electricity shot out, and impacted the side of the beast. It cried out in pain, anger and fury, it's entire body convulsing as thousands of volts of electricity coursed through its body. But the beam of electricity ended almost as soon as it began, and the monster was still standing, though panting, and trying to get its claws from the barn even harder now. The wood was groaning and creaking, and it was just a question as to how long before it got out.
"What the hell is this… thing?" Colonel Granger exclaimed, rummaging for another fusion cell to slap into the back of the Red Alert.
"I have no idea!" Patrick had grabbed his assault rifle, and with a quick motion grabbed the magazine clip of his gun, and quickly slammed a new magazine from a pouch on his belt and slammed it back in. He had a moment to aim, and he fired at the outstretched hand of the creature. But like before, the bullets merely bounced off the monster, and just made it even more and more angry.
With another roar, the creature ripped half of the wall of the barn off, chunks of wood flying everywhere. It didn't hurt Colonel Granger in his power armor, but a large board with sharp splinters hit Patrick over his right eye, knocking him down, crying out in pain. He tried to open his eye, but blood made it sting, the pain excruciating. He tried to get up, but the board hit him really hard, and he had a splitting headache, with his vision getting blurry.
Colonel Granger aimed another shot with the Red Alert, but missed, as the creature had moved too quickly, this time sprinting right at Patrick, fury and anger blaring in it's eyes.
A loud whirring sound, followed by the blast of bullets, came from out of nowhere. The creature screamed in agony, and fell to its side, red blood oozing out onto the dead ground. A blur rushed past Patrick but it seemed almost as big as the monster, but it sounded more human when it roared out in defiance and anger, but deeper than many voices Patrick had ever heard before. Patrick could see it was holding something over it's head, but then it vanished, followed by the crack of bone, the squish of flesh, and the final slump of the monster.
Everything went silent. Only heavy breathing could be heard for a few moments. Patrick tried to sit up, but his head hurt too much, so he fell backwards again.
He could hear Colonel Granger talking, something like "What are you?" but Patrick didn't hear the answer, passing out as a large green hand reached over Patrick's face.
Patrick woke with a start, gasping. His head still hurt, and sweat was running down his face, but at least his vision had pretty much returned. The room was dark, so it must have been night. He slowly laid down again, his head resting on a pillow, most likely stuffed with straw of some kind, much like his at home. For a moment, he began to think the past month never happened, it was just a dream… or he finally bit the bullet, and this was the afterlife he never really thought about until now.
"Auxiliary!" Colonel Granger exclaimed, a relieved sigh escaping his lips, ending that thought before it had time to manifest itself fully in his mind. Patrick looked over to see Colonel Granger, once again out of his power armor, standing over Patrick on the bed.
"Colonel?" Patrick asked. "What happened?"
"You had fight with Deathclaw," a deep, slow baritone voice answered. "It crazy you survive."
Patrick slowly turned his head around, to see an eight foot tall, wrinkled green skinned creature standing beside Colonel Granger. Giant didn't even begin to describe... it: huge muscles dominated his body, and it looked like he could pick up a Corvega and break it in two without breaking a sweat. His face was a bit distorted, his cheeks and chin and jaw all stretched further from his eyes than what should have been possible. Metal and leather were cobbled together to form something that may have approached armor or at least common decency, but it really looked like an afterthought, not seriously considered.
Patrick was almost instantly terrified of a creature like this, as he had never saw one before, and it seemed to be permanently scowling, or at the very least sneering in anger or superiority. But its eyes were quiet, gentle, and it was clearly trying to be non threatening. Maybe he was actually smiling for all Patrick knew.
"But Doc fix you up. Doc is good. Doc fix anyone," the creature said. "He did good job."
Patrick reached up, and touched his face where the board hit. He winced as he touched the gauze padding that was taped over his eye. It was only then that Patrick realized that he had an eye covered up.
"What… what are you?" Patrick asked, turning more to see the creature and Colonel Granger easier.
"I Benny," the creature said. "I safe you from Deathclaw."
"Well, thank you," Patrick said.
"What I think you actually were wondering about is the species," Colonel Granger said. "They prefer to call themselves, uh... Super Mutants." Granger didn't sound totally comfortable standing next to the green beast, but the super mutant didn't notice, or care.
Patrick nodded, but the name of course had no meaning to him right now. Though somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if a super mutant wasn't able to talk much better than a toddler, but had the brute force to take down an armor plated Deathclaw, then what hope did an Average Mutant have?
Patrick finally got sitting up on the bed, before taking a deep breath. Benny was breathing heavily, his entire chest lifting up and down in a fairly rapid pattern, though he was just standing there and not doing anything.
"Where are we?" Patrick asked.
"New California," Colonel Granger replied. "When you are feeling better, we were invited to talk to the leader of this community."
"Wait.. isn't New California like… a thousand of miles from here?" Patrick asked.
Benny laughed, a deep, earth shaking rumble. "Funny human."
"I dunno," Colonel Granger finally replied. "I'm sure we can get the answer later."
Patrick nodded, and lifted himself off the bed and stood up. Colonel Granger and Benny both reached forward to make sure that Patrick didn't fall over on to his face, but it wasn't needed. He gave a weary nod.
"Alright, let's go."
Benny led the way out of the backroom that Patrick had been lying in, walking past several super mutants, all doing something in a large hall that reminded Patrick of a hockey rink up in Assiniboia, and for all Patrick knew, it was one. A few were checking over their weapons, some sharpening fierce looking blades that Patrick had a feeling was taken from the bumpers of cars or the rotors of old aircraft. Some were chopping up meat, maybe from the deathclaw, maybe from Brahmin, or humans for all Patrick knew, and tossing the sliced and diced meat into one of several large pots or on a large grill, the sizzling and bubbling of the food sending aromas and smells that grazed Patrick's nose and made his stomach rumble. He wasn't sure what all was going into the food, but it smelt good all the same. Many of them were talking, shooting the breeze. Patrick noticed that some talked like Benny, many more a lot worse, and a few just like Patrick or Colonel Granger or any other human in the Wasteland. They all looked like they were from the same mould, more or less, so how could they be so different?
Colonel Granger took slower, smaller steps until soon he was a beside Patrick, who slowed down as well. "So, do you feel, uh, uncomfortable here?"
Patrick looked around, but none of the super mutants were looking at him and the Enclave officer. "A little bit. Something that big that could easily kill a monster that our bullets just bounce off, but are being so polite puts me on edge a bit, yeah."
"Okay, so not just me," Colonel Granger said, looking around, side stepping around a pile of wooden crates in a pile in the middle of path. "And how did they get like this? That's the other question."
"Another Enclave experiment that you won't tell me about?" Patrick asked.
"What? No!" Granger said, a bit louder than he should have. A couple super mutants looked over at Patrick and Colonel Granger, but quickly went back to what they were doing. "Look, okay, I'm sorry about before. I've told you a lot more than I should have."
Patrick didn't say anything, instead moving quicker to catch up with Benny, who was making his way through the crowd to the far end of the building. There sat a super mutant with a large minigun sat, polishing the barrels until they shone in the dim electric lights wired through the building. The super mutant had a brahmin hide vest, and a pair of goggles that were pushed up onto his forehead. Several piles of books and magazines were piled up around him, and several were open, and he was staring at one as he cleaned his gun. His mouth was moving as he read the book, but didn't say anything, so it looked like he was in a silent conversation with the book.
"Samuel! The humans is here to talk," Benny said.
"Thank you Benny," Samuel said, not taking his eye from the book for a moment. Benny turned around and stomped off.
Samuel finished reading his sentence and looked to Colonel Granger and Patrick. "So, you are the fellows that were nearly torn apart by a Deathclaw, huh?"
"I guess so. Never saw one of those monsters before," Patrick said.
Samuel raised an eyebrow. "No? Well, that must mean you're not from around here. So, you must be from Assiniboia, right?"
"I am, yes," Patrick said. "My name is Patrick, but most people call me the Auxiliary."
"Oh? I've heard of you on the DBS when it comes through," Samuel said, smiling as much as his face would allow him. "Though, I'm surprised that you find yourself this far south." He then looked over the Encalve officer. "And who is he?"
"Colonel Granger here is…"
"...from a vault near the old border," Granger interjected.
Samuel looked at both of them, a bit confused. "I know of only two Vaults in North Dakota, 53 and 63. So you are saying there is another one?" Patrick and Colonel Granger nodded.
Samuel shook his head and gave a small chuckle."I don't even know where to begin asking you questions."
"And we have questions of our own," Patrick replied.
"Fair enough. In due time, I'll answer. But I'm want to know; how did you get here past the Brotherhood of Steel lines to the north? And what Vault? And why are you here?"
"We were in an aircraft that was shot down by the BoS," Colonel Granger said.
"Aircraft? What is that? Like the big tube things that the Brotherhood had used?" Samuel asked, looking more and more confused.
"I'm not sure. It's a long story, but we are here now," Patrick said.
Samuel shook his head. "I've seen and heard of a lot of crazy things in my life. Robots that tried to destroy all of humanity, fighting with a deranged madman to bring peace to the world. Hell, I've met a person with a tree growing out of his head. But you two coming here and telling me this, it just reminds me that no matter the crazy shit that happens in this irradiated wasteland, there is always something that will trump it.
"But you didn't come here to hear an old, green mutant talk of the past. Why are you here?"
"We were sent this way to find a raider camp and destroy it," Patrick replied.
"Raiders, huh?" Samuel said, stroking his large chin. "Can't say that I've heard of any around here."
"Oh? Well we were told by the Overseer from Hardingville…" Patrick began.
"Hardingville?" Samuel interrupted.
"Uhh, yes. That's the place who sent us."
Samuel's face fell, and he sighed. "I think the leader there wanted you to deal with us."
"What? Why?" Patrick exclaimed. "Do you have problems with Hardingville?"
Samuel shook his head, his jowls wobbling a bit as he did so. "Personally, I don't. If anything, Hardingville is the problem. They hated us because of who they think we are: big, dumb brutes prone to violence and murder." He sighed. "And sometimes, they are right."
"What do you mean?"
"Years ago, when we first arrived and set up New California, they had also just started their town, and when we tried to help, there was an… incident, where one of our kind, though from an area far to the east when we are from the west, nearly killed one of them in a bloodthirsty rage and hunger." Samuel shook his head. "He's long gone now. We exiled him for his crimes, and he has most likely gone back to where he came from, but since then, they don't trust us. I can't blame them."
"But, Benny took down that deathclaw, and doesn't seem much smarter than a elementary student," Patrick said. "That raw strength should be a help to them."
"Yes. I was hoping that if we just tried to kill deathclaws or other violent creatures, we could both feed ourselves, and protect the town. I'm not denying that we are big and scary, and can fight when need to, and do a lot of damage and slaughter anything that opposes us." Samuel held out his hands. "But I've been preaching to everyone, super mutant, ghoul, human and everyone between, that we are peaceful, and wish to remain so. After all, we were humans at one point, even if many of the super mutants here have forgotten or don't care to remember."
"You were all humans?" Patrick asked.
"Yes. What you see before you is the result of a dangerous pre-war chemical called the FEV, or Forced Evolutionary Virus. If you dip a human into the FEV, there is a chance it will be mutated, either into abominations or deformed creatures that die soon after being dipped. Everyone here is the result of a successful dipping, though in very few cases would someone's intelligence be retained. I'm one of the lucky ones."
"So, did all of you just stumble on this FEV then?" Patrick asked. "And where?"
"It's in a secret, pre-War military base in California, a long, long ways from here. But it wasn't chance. All of us were made by a being called The Master, who sought to raise all of humanity to the level of the super mutants. He was defeated, however. Destroyed by a human we called the Great Terror. Other humans called him simply the Vault Dweller. After the Master's death, the Brotherhood of Steel, which might be the same people that are now fighting Assiniboia, tried to rid the Wasteland of our species. We were hunted down, exterminated. Just like if we were a pack of feral, rabid dogs to be put down. But that's not all we are. I've tried to prove so. But people like from Hardingville prove that it's very hard, if not impossible to convince everyone that we are not monsters."
"But you were created by that… Master or whatever his name is to try to take over the world," Colonel Granger said. "Doesn't that mean that you are dangerous, prone to violence and war?"
"That is what we were made for, war," Samuel admitted. "However, we have tried to remain at peace with our neighbors. I've been trying to keep the peace between Hardingville and New California for decades since we came here. Even when their patrols find ours, we never fire first and we will fire over their heads and just try to miss on purpose, just to not spark a war between our two settlements, or any settlement. But it's hard when few people want to trust us, to meet us at least half way."
Patrick listened carefully to all this. "But why do you want to do that? You could easily have destroyed Hardingville, and be left alone forever."
Samuel grunted in annoyance. "No. No! I'd never allow that to happen. I've seen war, first in California, then in the Midwest, and lately between Assiniboia and the Brotherhood of Steel. It's bloody, it's destructive, it does nothing but create hate and anger and terror, throwing the progress of those that are just trying to build a better life back years, if not decades. But no more!" Samuel pounded his chest as he roared out his declaration. "We super mutants, we've done our share of destruction and violence. Now we just want to live in peace, just to live our own lives and to help the Wasteland recover and rebuild from the Great War so long ago!" Samuel's voice had been rising the entire time, and he was standing up. A few other super mutants nearby had turned to see the commotion, and many of them cheered as Samuel finished his impromptu speech.
Patrick was impressed. Had Samuel not been a super mutant, and lived in Assiniboia, he would have been a mayor of a town or a MP in the Ledge. But instead, he was here, because he was turned into a monster.
Samuel sat back down, leaning over on his knees to face Patrick on something approaching eye level, man to man. "Look, I know that the people of Hardingville want us dead. They are scared and ignorant. I know I can't convince them myself that we are not a threat. But can you please talk with them, and try to convince them that we can work together? I know they face a lot of problems from animals and raiders, and I know some super mutants here who would gladly help protect them from the Wasteland. We just want to live in peace. Are you someone that can say the same?"
For the longest moment, they just stared at each other. Not exactly a battle of wills, but with both trying to peer deep into the other's psyche. The large, dull grey and green eyes of Samuel told a lot of what he was like: old, clever, curious, remorseful and with the faintest hint of desperation.
What would Patrick's eyes say in return? Patrick had no idea anymore. The face he used to see every morning in the mirror of his home in Melita was young, joyful, hopeful. Now? Were they depressed? Exhausted? Weary? Plain old tired?
Patrick looked away from Samuel, and took a deep breath. "Okay, I will see what I can do."
"That's all I can ask for," Samuel replied, sitting up.
Patrick nodded, and was about to turn around to walk out. But suddenly something came to his mind. "Also, I have one important question to ask you, besides a million other smaller ones."
"Sure, what is it?" Samuel said.
"I was told that there is a place in the ruins of Bismarck where they were designing a pre-War airplane, and we were asked to find it. Would you happen to know where that is?"
Samuel's eyebrows furrowed, his mouth twisting as he tried to concentrate. "We've combed through the ruins of Bismarck a lot to try to find anything valuable. Do you remember the name of the company?"
"Uhhh… Lockroad?" Patrick suggested
"Lockreed," Colonel Granger corrected.
"No, don't remember that."
"Poseidon Energy?" Patrick asked.
"Lots of gas stations, but no office that I remember seeing."
Patrick thought hard. He remembered General Stokes at Minot said three companies. "Uhhh… Bell Aeronautics?"
Samuel thought, then grinned. "Ahh yes! I remember them. It wasn't a big office building, next to the old airport. There wasn't a lot there, mostly computers and stuff. A few robots were on security there, so we didn't explore the place a whole lot."
Patrick thought, then shrugged. "That's okay. I think Colonel Granger and I could handle a few walking tin cans."
Samuel chuckled. "That's the spirit. Good luck in finding what you need though."
"Are you seriously going to do this?" Colonel Granger asked when they finally got out of New California and were heading back to Hardingville, which was pretty much just the old rink, with a few outbuildings for more people, crops and livestock (including sleipnir's much to Patrick's surprise, reminding Patrick of Demon way back in Melita; he hoped his stallion was being well treated), and a wood, stone and rusted steel wall to protect the place. Patrick was surprised that there were a few humans who were living with them, working alongside the bigger, greener mutants. Most likely safer with super mutants than in the wasteland for sure.
Colonel Granger was back in his power armor, towering a couple feet taller than Patrick now, and with the fierce bug-eyed helmet on. Patrick made do with his two feet and heartbeat.
"I'm going to try. Preventing bloodshed down here is just as important as stopping it up north," Patrick said.
"But they aren't even human!" Colonel Granger exclaimed.
"I know that. It's pretty hard to miss," Patrick scowled.
"And you want to trust those abominations of nature?"
Patrick stopped, and spun on his heel. "Oh, now you are going on about trust, huh?"
Colonel Granger's helmet was on, but the slight movement he made told Patrick he must have been wincing, as if a .22 bullet had hit his chest.
Patrick took a deep breath, held up his hands. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring that up again."
"It's alright." By Granger's muffled mechanical voice, it was by no means alright, but he was more resigned than angry about it.
"Look. I know you don't like mutants. The ghouls at Minot, all the animals we've met over the past several weeks since you left the vault, it must be a huge shock. Hell, those super mutants make me uncomfortable too. But I'm trying to be open minded here, and, if even half of what Samuel said about how the super mutants were created and hunted down, then he deserves a break, wouldn't agree?"
"I don't know," Colonel Granger said. "I just… I just don't know anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"When I was growing up in the Vault, I was taught that we were the pinnacle of humanity. The Chosen People to survive a nuclear war, and to then walk out and resettle America and make it great again, and that we would be greeted with open arms by whatever mutated, degenerate society that may have existed as their unequivocal, undoubted superiors because we were pure and untainted by radiation." Colonel Granger sighed, and shook his heads. "But then when you showed up… You look like me. You talk like me. You don't have extra arms or a third eye or anything. You still had your ability to think, to reason, to understand logic. The radiation, the war should have destroyed that, leaving just us, the Enclave. The Vaults too, but that was never a consideration for us.
"Then you say that you aren't the only one, the anomaly. There are entire nations where there should have only been struggling survivor communities, if anyone at all. Assiniboia, the Brotherhood of Steel, Winnipeg for God's sake. It should have been an irradiated crater, not a thriving, bustling metropolis, the center of a country that has done surprisingly well for itself!" Colonel Granger gave a chuckle. "Sure, most of the city doesn't have electricity, or vehicles and running water, and criminals and bandits are still a problem, and half the city is in neglected ruins, but it's there. Human's survived the Great War. Maybe they have adapted, Darwinism at work, but humans like us, the Enclave, survived the war!"
"What does this have to do with mutants?" Patrick asked.
Colonel Granger paused, and thought it over. "Well, I guess I expected mutants to be dumb, slobbering beasts that we could kill in the thousands and never break a sweat. But they… they aren't."
Patrick raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Aren't?"
"The ghouls at Minot are just like you and me, only that they look like zombies, and can survive in radiation that should have killed people, and most of them are well over a hundred years old. Maybe they will live forever! And the super mutants… They are bigger, stronger, and can withstand enormous punishment and radiation. They can survive this world. If I didn't have this power armor, that Deathclaw would have killed both of us. It still nearly killed you. That super mutant killed the deathclaw with a god-damned car bumper!"
"Really? Wow…"
"So… is the Enclave, is humanity, really the superior species anymore?" Colonel Granger asked, his voice breaking despite the metal and ceramic plating all around him. "If we can't out-think, out-build, or even outlive, what point is there for a human race? Can I even say that we humans are the top of the food chain anymore?"
Patrick listened to the Colonel, the highest ranking military officer of the technologically advanced remnant of the pre-war United States emotionally break down as his entire world, everything he knew, was finally turned on its head.
"Colonel, I wish I had an answer for you," Patrick said. "All I can say is that life is precious, no matter what shape it takes. We lost so many from the War of 2077, and in the 141 years since, so why should we be advocating for the destruction of entire groups of people just because they look different, even though they want to be peaceful?" Patrick raised his hand. "I'm not saying that we should just ignore those that actually mean harm on others, like Raiders or the Brotherhood, but if some mutants want to try to make the Wasteland a better place, or at least want to be left alone, shouldn't we?"
Colonel Granger breathed heavily in his power armor, which made him seem rather menacing and even scarier, despite his current mind state.
"I… I don't know. I have to think about it." Colonel Granger began to move forward, his power armor clanking as metal clashed on metal. Patrick took a deep breath and followed, a smile on his face. Sure, he might not be able to trust Colonel Granger fully ever again. And the more Patrick thought about the Enclave, the more it terrified him. But at least they were human, with all the strengths and flaws. One of the biggest was a conscience. And Colonel Granger proved he had that.
PipBoy InfoTracker Note #9999
The Story of New California, narrated by Samuel
Is this thing on? Good. Okay, so, uhh… I'm going to record the story of me and our people, so that I remember. I'm already forgetting things from... a long time ago. Can't forget all of it. Okay. Where to start? I guess with the Unity. I lived in Vault… 17 I think? 16? Gah, I can't believe I would forget that. The Master's army took it over, and took all the inhabitants to… Mar… Mar… Mariposa Base. Then were dumped into the FEV. Many vault dwellers… didn't make it. But some of us did.
I retained most of my smarts. So many didn't. The guys in charge of the Unity told me to command a squad of... less smart super mutants. We were turned into a force of terror, ranging all over: The city of ghouls… Necropolis, I think... and... The Hub were destroyed by us. Hundreds, thousands gunned down, torn to pieces. Centaurs… part dogs, part humans, they killed as many as our miniguns and laser rifles.
Then the Cathedral… blew up. The Great Terror killed the Master. Why? I… I don't know. I've thought about this. Were we evil then? Was the Great Terror evil? We killed and slaughtered, but… Well, I'm sorry for that. I wish we didn't have to.
It's not important. Not anymore.
Us survivors started to group up. A hundred of us, many of those that their intelligence and those that followed them. I was elected leader, and, with the.. Brotherhood, and all the humans in Shady Sands and Junktown and elsewhere attacking us, we decided to go east.
The mountains was brutal. Many died in gruesome ways. Paths were narrow. Avelances. Snowstorms that raged for days and... froze some of us to death. We could withstand bullets. Radiation. Disease. But not cold.
Only 62 of us made it to other side of mountain. Continued east. We marched as far East as we could until we found the crater of Bismarck.
The radiation was still moderately high, and with the… Radiation Alley, I think the humans call it, to the north, it would be safe for us.
Some humans joined us in the trip. They sought protection, and offered to help grow food, tend brahmin. Some mutants wanted to kill them. I decided to welcome them. We have made it this far. So… I guess it worked.
But most humans don't trust us. I wouldn't trust me if I was human. Too scary. I… I can't look in a mirror somedays, to see the twisted face and sick green hide, the one that killed many…
New California is a promise, though. We will be at peace, like the New California that was being set up when we left. We will help others, no matter what.