Chapter VII:
Parting of Ways
Cass
I could already feel my anger risin', like some kinda bubblin' caldron. I could also tell because my cheeks felt like they're fuckin' burning up like a Rad Blast from a damn Glowing One! For that reason, I couldn't really blame the trooper standin' in my way tryna stop me from stormin' on in. But that sure as hell wasn't going to stop me!
"Ya tell Jackson ta get his sorry ass out here or I swear…!"
"Ma'am, for the last time, Ranger Jackson cannot see you, now-"
With that I delivered a sharp knee into his groin with a resoundin' smack. He waddled back, gaspin' in gulps and clutching his jewels. Shit, I hadn't meant ta slam him so hard, but nothing more to it. I shoved, and he fell onto the floor. I stepped over him; my boots crunching hard on some crumbled something. That did it.
Suddenly, a green beret clad officer or what-not appeared on my right, backed by some goddamn Mary Poppins's!
"Ms. Cassidy, if you don't stop, I'll-"
I didn't let him finish, I came and gave him the boot to the leg, where I knew the nerve was. His face went white, but 'fore he could fall I kicked him in ta the MP's. They toppled back like dominoes, and I leapt over him and over the front desk, gallopin' for the door! Another trooper appeared, but I saw him coming from a long way off. As he swung, I dodged left; kicking him in the back and faceplanting him ta the wall.
Two more shit-bags appeared on either side of the hallway, but I was close enough to where I wanted ta go. As they rushed forward, I rolled and dived into the open doorway. I turned and kicked the door shut, then locking it in place. I sighed, removing my stained hat, and brushin' way hair from my eyes.
"Ms. Cassidy… I…" gasped a voice from the office desk across from me. I snarled, saddled my hat and in a second was across the room. The Ranger was cowering in the corner, but that sure shit ain't gonna be 'nough! I grabbed the lapels of his burlack brown colored jacket, arched my back and tossed him over the desk and into a metal cabinet. I then popped him in the nose, keepin' him where he was. He was totally cowed, and I needed him ta stay that way.
Suddenly, there was heavy banging on the office door, and I knew I only had seconds on the clock. I loomed over the fallen Ranger. I then reached down and grabbed the left whiskers on his fuckin' stupid Chopper mustache. He cringed in pain, and gripped my arm with both hands. It wouldn't help, I was too fuckin' pissed ta let go, no matter what he did!
"Now, unless you want me ta rip this piss-poor excuse for hair off, you're gonna tell me what happened to my-"
Suddenly, there was a loud crash to my left as the door was caved in by a fucking enormous hunk of a man! A few seconds later, I had four Service Rifles trained on me. Shit luck fer them, I had already taken the liberty of positioning Jackson between us. If they wanted me, they'd have to shoot through him first. Obviously, tense moment followed, as we waited ta see what the other was gonna do.
"Sir?" a Trooper asked, looking to Jackson fer orders, "Should we…"
"Out," Jackson suddenly bellowed.
"But Sir-"
"You heard me, Trooper. Out, I will deal with this."
With that the Troopers filed out of the room, one after the other. After they left, I released him. He waddled over to his desk, massaging his nose. He narrowed his eyes at me and spoke:
"If ya had let me speak for about two seconds, I'd told you what you wanted to know."
I grinned slightly, slamming my fist into my hand:
"I just couldn't resist the temptation ta punch you, Jackson."
He sighed, and reached behind his back. I tensed fer a moment, but then relaxed as it was just an envelope.
"That sort of stuff can get you shot…" He mumbled as he handed me the folder. I accepted it gleefully, but when I opened it, my heart burst. My eyes went wide as I looked at the images, my breathing stopped as my eyes rolled over the report. Now, more than fuckin' ever, I felt a hollowness I was all too familiar with. I could feel tears rolling down the side of my cheeks, my chest heaving in and out like I was feelin' mountains of pain creepin' through my bones.
"Ms. Cassidy, I-"Jackson started to say, but I was gone. I shoved the envelope into his arms, and I ran out of the building. I could feel myself rollin' away, a feeling I had not felt sense my mom died. Just like that little girl, I found myself huddled in a corner, sobbing into my hands…
Gideon
It was night, and the air was cold. Although it had not snowed for over two centuries, I felt it would've been fitting. I wrapped the rest of the scarf around my neck and face, the wind howling around all about me. It was dark as pitch, the stars and moon tucked in sheets of clouds. The only light for me was bobbing green hue that dance and colored the road around me, blending with the memories hours past.
The first had been with Ringo, who was sitting next to me at the bar:
"I owe you big time, amigo. So here, this is what I have now."
"Ringo you don't need to pay me."
"'Course I do. Mama would smack me if I didn't. But when you can, look me up at our camp at McCarran; I'll pay the rest then."
Then there'd been Trudy:
"I got a special discount for you when you decide to come back. And you can keep the room key if you want to."
"Thanks. But I might not be coming back here. At least… not for a while."
"Don't worry about it. The town'll still be here, thanks to you."
And as I was leaving:
"Had more fun than in years, greenhorn. Might miss it. Well good luck to you on the road, Maddox."
"You too, Pete. And try not to blow up anything else while I'm gone."
"No promises. And the man you're hunting? Whatever ye do when you do it: don't trust him. Man got eyes colder than a snake."
"He won't get the chance."
"Good."
And still in infirmary, wrapped under heavy blankets for a forth night:
"You don't have to go, you know that?"
"I know, Sunny. But… I have to leave. I've done what I can here, and I need to find answers."
"Primm?"
"And probably the Outpost."
"Gideon, there someone there who you might need… or she might need you."
"Who is she?"
"You'll know her when you see her. And Gideon?"
"Sunny?"
"You'll always have a place here. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't. Not ever."
I kissed her softly on the cheek, and made my way to the door:
"Leaving so soon?"
Mitchell beckoned me over from his chair, which was so overlade with pillows and comforters it might've burst.
"I got somebody to catch up with, Doc."
"Well, I can't argue with that. Just remember what I said to you earlier."
"Don't worry, he won't get the chance… again."
"Watch your back out there. And Gideon: be carefully with your memory. You may not like what you find."
Part of me wanted to look back, back at the town that had given me back my life, my reason to live, but I shook my head. There was no reason for me to. I had already said my goodbyes and slipped out of town. I didn't need to make the pain any worse. I checked the straps on my bag, the Browning and Colt, my leather gloves, and the knife on my boot, the rifle on my back. I then felt something bump into my side, and I reached into my jacket and pulled it out.
I stared at it as I kept walking. I felt it's well honed leather cover, the gleaming metal in darkness. I ran my finger over the sewed number, a yellow thirteen.
"But here you should have this. I've had fer years, used to carry it around in my younger days. Got it from a junk sale back out west, though I think it came from a vault. Not much use for me, but it's always brought good luck fer me, well… most of the time. Goodbye, my friend."
"Goodbye, Doc. and Doc?"
"Yeah?"
"Your wife would've been proud of you. Don't ever forget that."
"Goodbye, Gideon."
Doc's words rolled again in my mind, the look of acceptance in his eyes. Acceptance that this was the last time he would be seeing me. Pete, Sunny, all of 'em, I wish…
I shook my head and just kept on walking.
"Not now. Not for a while…"
I actually made good time that night. I trek for miles on end down the I-15, the sounds of night playing all around. Finally, the rays of dawn lit up the night. I sat in a secluded spot, unfolding my bag and removing a can. I opened it up with my knife, downing the soup like a burning shot of whisky. I wasn't at all bothered by its cold touch. I then removed a pear and an apple from the bag and munched on those as well.
All in all though, I was tired. I hadn't slept for a while, so at last I indulged in its pleasure, waking about mid day to the sound of Big Iron playing on a loop. I smiled slightly, humming the tune as I rolled up my gear and headed back onto the road. Although the sound only lasted a good few minutes, I guessed the station had goofed a bit as it played twice more. I didn't mind though, I had grown up with that song.
I walked on for hours (well more likely just one), listing to the Pip-Boy radio booming out ruse, news and blues. Then from the distance, I saw it; a large roller coaster sticking out like a sore in the land, buildings rolling about around it. Primm. Then something else caught my eye. I reached around and pulled up my rifle, adjusting the scope.
A flag, with a white banner and a double headed bear standing on a red line across the garrison, was bobbling with the wind. I sighed and shook my head. No matter how far east you went, you'd end up running into these guys, one way or another. I shook my head once more, shouldering my rifle, and began marching down the hill. As I grew closer and closer with the town, I knew that the garrison here would no doubt give me their typical bullshit.
Sure enough, as I came within thirty feet of a make shift guardhouse, I spotted movement inside. My first instinct was to go for the rifle on my back, but somehow I knew better. At the first sign of trouble; these guys would cut you down with 5.56 automatic fire, no questions asked. So I started walking towards it cautiously. Eventually, a rough voice barked from inside the shack:
"Halt. Identify yourself or I will open fire!"
I knew he wasn't kidding. This wasn't the time for witty back talk:
"Just a simple courier, Trooper," I replied, calmly, "I'm just here to complete a contract."
Finally, the trooper stepped out of the shack. I looked him up and down, noting the one chevron on his left arm and the Fifth Battalion patch just underneath that. Overall he was wearing fairly standard equipment for an NCR Trooper. He wore rather loose brown fatigues and pants, a metal chestplate with NCR stenciled on it, sand goggles and a wide brimmed tan helmet. I then moved my gazed down to the rifle in his hands.
It was a Service Rifle, a wooden knock off of the old Stoner ArmaLite Rifle line back before the Great War. I remembered it had been replaced by the R-91, an American version of the German made G-3, back in 2056 by the old army; but nonetheless they were a good weapon line. Obviously, they were still well respected as the NCR had hired the Gun Runners to recreate the series for them. There was one major difference between the two weapons: the old ArmaLite's had the charging handle behind the sights which slides out along the top of the stock, while the Service Rifle's was close to where the ejector port was.
I then moved my eye's back up to his, and noticed he was looking me up and down too. Then his eyes moved to rifle on my back, and I could swear he was trying to find a bulge in my coat, indicating a hidden pistol. Granted he wouldn't find one or two easily. Finally he went back up to my face, and spoke, no nonsense like:
"A little too well armed for a courier, don't ya think?"
I sighed and I lifted my left arm up and I rolled down the sleeve. He gazed at my pale, clean skin, not seeing what he was looking for. I then rolled my sleeve down again, and I reached into my back pocket, which he tensed and brought his rifle to chest level.
"Easy, I'm not Legion," I said reassuringly, "You've already seen that I don't bear their mark on my arm. I'm just reaching for my courier identification."
He relaxed and I pulled out the book and handed it to him. He read it over and then handed it back to me. With that he then shouldered his rifle.
"Alright, Lance-Corporal," I began, addressing him by his rank, which caused him to straighten even more, "What's going on and why are you so trigger happy?"
"I apologize sir, but we've ran into a bit of a problem. A couple of weeks back, there a prison break out at the NCRCF…"
"I know, Trooper. I just came from an engagement with them up at Goodsprings."
"Goodsprings, eh? Well, the problem is that a force of convicts rolled through here and took the town."
"How big a force?"
"Unknown. Our best guess is somewhere around three dozen, but there's probably more."
"What about the townsfolk?"
"From accounts of few who got out, most are still hiding somewhere in town."
I nodded my head and spoke again:
"Alright then. Trooper, I want you to take me to your commanding officer."
He hesitated, and I smiled reassuringly:
"It's alright trooper. You've already stop me, and I'm sure you've informed the camp that I'm here."
He sighed and started walking past the guardhouse:
"Follow me then, sir."
Quickly, I picked up the pace and started following him into camp. As I suspected, there were three other Troopers hiding in the ruins next to the guard shack. As we walked pass, they quickly formed a rear guard, no doubt to make sure I didn't try to bolt. As I glanced over my shoulder, I could see them staring slack face at me, their rifles never trailing far from my silhouette. One wrong move, I knew, and they would rip me to pieces.
We advanced further into the 'camp'. In truth, it was just a huddle of ruined buildings with about half a dozen tents strewed around. Overall, there were about a maybe just a dozen, maybe just a little more, Troopers located here. As I looked them all up and down as I passed them, I could tell a good many of them were green. Rookies and the like.
I grumbled something incomprehensible to myself. This was how desperate the NCR was at this point. Every day, the Republic just got a little bigger, going further and further in every direction. They always claimed that they were 'spreading the good word of the Republic to those who need it'. Even if that wasn't the biggest crock of crap that I've heard in my life time, it wasn't a good enough reason to save them.
In other words: too many miles of sand in every direction for them to man, control and tax. In addition, their efforts to 'tame' the land only often make things worse. They keep rolling over people, taking away their land by force. That is often the cause of so many raider and bandit groups in this godforsaken desert. For these reasons, I knew that even if the Republic was able to take this land; the cost would be the final nail in their coffin.
I shook it off. This was not the time for my rather negative points of view. Especially considering these guys are probably the most trigger happy people in this neck of the desert. Finally we came across two of the tents and I could somehow tell that the one on the left was a command tent. I don't know, maybe because it was cleaner than the rest? The Lance-Corporal then turned his head and spoke:
"Sir, the Lieutenant is inside. He's already been made aware of your arrival."
"Thank you Trooper."
With that I stepped forward and entered the tent. When flap fell back in place behind me, the first thing that struck me how stuffy the air was. The second was the near unbearable seamed heat in this burlap oven. The third was the officer in front of me. Under most circumstances, most NCR officers that I've met were more often than naught just as young and green as the new recruits.
Not this one. Right down from the ragged expression of weariness to the look of frustration in his eyes, I could tell he was one of the old breed: the ones who were at Hoover Dam; the ones who had seen the work of the Legion first hand. That was some good news. That meant he was already aware of the total bureaucracy that was the Army, and would be willing to do what would be necessary… when given the right push.
"I'm Lieutenant Hayes, 5th Infantry battalion, 1st company, New California Republic Army." He said, as if rehearsed over a long period, and held out his hand. I took his hand and shook it firmly:
"Gideon Maddox, just a humble out-of-luck courier."
He smiled slightly, another sign of a veteran; he actually had a sense of humor.
"What's your business Mr. Maddox?"
"Courier contract. I'm currently employed with the Mojave Express."
"Then I see why you're out of luck then, Mr. Maddox."
"What's going on in Primm, Lieutenant?"
"One of the Soldiers outside told me you had a run in with the 'Powder Gangers' up north in Goodsprings. Well that's what we're facing here."
"Your standing orders?"
That was he creased his eyes and sighed despairingly:
"We were sent here to hold back the tide of convicts who've taken over the town. The problem is that the opposition is far better armed and organized than what we were told. Even worse, most of my best men were replaced by these kids who can barely shoot straight, let alone fight. Now things have turned into a waiting game. Even worse, they've told us not to go into the town no matter the circumstances."
I shook my head. This was why the NCR was now in a deteriorating deadlock with everything out here. An over stretched supply infrastructure and an incompetent command structure. I turned my gaze back to the lieutenant and spoke, determined:
"I'm going in to Primm tonight."
The lieutenant gazed at me, a little bit surprised:
"I can't let you go in there."
"Can't or won't."
"Both. Look, I have my orders…"
With that, I threw my hands in the air and I retorted angrily:
"Sir your orders can hang. There are dozens of innocent folk in that town, and they are probably going to die unless you do something."
I japed a finger into his chestplate, my eye locked with his:
"You're the officer in charge, it is your duty to protect and defend those unable to do it themselves. Only you, nobody else, can save them."
He stared at me; bewildered, confused and conflicted written all over his face. I relaxed, and withdrew my hand. Then his face changed, and I knew what he was going to do:
"If I allowed you in there, I need you to guarantee you'll assist us."
I patted Lowlight on my back:
"I think I can guarantee that…"
I calmly took a sip from my Vault 13 flask, and began across the make shift bridge that crossed the long overpass that separated the outpost from the town. Tonight was overcast, which was good news for me. No moon light to expose me and darkness would work to my favor. I had Lowlight out, ready to rock and roll as I crossed the bridge and began making my way into to town. Ahead of me were two large buildings and one ahead of those which was a good four stores high.
I quickly scuttled over to a long rusted corvette and peered around with the scope, the intensity sights bathing the world in different shades of green. I swung around to my left and spotted two shanty houses that looked like they had been made from different assortments of scrap metal. With a final peer around, I silently sled over the car and began creep running over to the nearest building ahead of me. With my back to wall, I began moving forward. No further than ten feet forward, I suddenly heard voices around the corner. Then I spotted the fire light, and I crept closer.
As I approached the corner, I lopped my head and peered around the corner. There were three blue coated convicts huddled around a fire, hands out to gather whatever warmth they could muster. Fortunately they all had their backs turned to me, which granted me the opportunity to look around. Even though my night vision was impaired by the glow of the fire, I could spot movement on the roller coaster and on the roof of the four store building. I ducked back, wondering what to do to take these guys out quickly and quietly.
An idea came to me. I looked around and grabbed a nearby brick and I threw it out ahead of me to my right. It had the desirable thud, and I could hear the Convicts ahead startled by the noise. I tensed, my rifle locked dead in my hands. One by one, they went out to investigate, the darkness concealing me from their eyes. I raised my rifle, and fired into the head of the last one in line.
The silencer muffled the noise to barely that of a low pop. He dropped to floor, and in heart beat I was up and creeping, my knife in my hand. As the second one in line turned, I jabbed it into his trachea. I withdrew and just in time, as I dropped the second convict he let out a loud gurgle as he choked on his blood, causing the last one to turn. As he began to go for his gun, I flipped the handle up, catching it by the blade and lobbed it at him.
It struck him in the chest, shock registering in his eyes as he dropped to the floor. I quickly scuttled over and withdrew the blade from the dead man. I looked around, relieved that no one had seen my lethal deeds. I cocked the bolt, loading another round and moved forward my eye looking left and right, noticing a slump body to my right. I looked one more time around and I moved over to where it laid.
I knelt next to the body and I knew he had been dead for at least a couple of days. His skin was cold and shriveled a pale black, a hole in his chest cover in dried blood. I ran my hands through some of his coat pockets, and then I noticed something in his hand. It was a crumpled up note, maybe something important. I uncrumpled it and began to read its contents.
It was almost identical to my own Mojave Express order, the only difference was the package: a pair of fluffy oversized 6 sided dice. Now, I began to wonder even more about the strangeness of this job. The note said there were four other packages as well, although it did not mention what they were. But I had the feeling that every person who had taken an involvement with this job probably shared my fate, and his. Then, I heard voices behind me.
Quickly I scuttled forward, and moved towards the door in front of me. It had been left ajar, so I silently slid through. My rifle raised, I scanned the room in front of me finding it empty. Then my left hand bumped into something metal, causing a low beeping noise to sound from my Pip-Boy. I hugged the wall, and I hit the screen illumination button, lighting it up to a visible level.
I stared in wonder at it. At the bottom of the screen was a long, almost ruler like line with attached tickmarks. On two of the tickmarks, it had the letters N and NE. Yet that wasn't what caught my attention. There were about four detached tickmarks moving across the line, causing the Pip-Boy to beep every couple of seconds. I glanced around the corner of the doorway, noticing a patrol of about four convicts moving down the road.
I then heard a louder beep from my left arm and looked down. A message popped up onto the Pip-Boy screen: Welcome to Sensorium! This Vault-Tec modular motion detector allows the wielder to easily detect movement from 15 yard distance in a clear, obstacle free environment. Results on distances vary on different environments.
Well I seem to have an endless bag of tricks.
"What the hell?!"
They had found the bodies of their comrades. I then grabbed a brick and I tossed against the wall in front of me. There must have been some bottles on that wall, because I heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering into a million pieces. The Sensorium beeped once more and I knew they were coming. I quickly put my back against the wall; my rifle to my shoulder, my left hand holding my blade against the barrel grip.
They entered the room, one by one; the darkness concealing me from their gaze. Then the familiar calmness and equilibrium came to; focusing my gaze and then the targets began lighting up in that orange hue. This time it felt a little different. While the first target had about the same options as the last time I had used it, the other three became more specific. I realized why; it was calculating me using my blade.
"Let's dance."
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a second in real time; I selected my targets. Head, drop rifle, neck slash, stomach stab, upward slash and neck slash. With the equilibrium starting to lose focus, I accepted my roll of the dice. My body then moved like a motor, firing my rifle into the last man entering the room. As he started to fall, in slow motion, I felt myself kick off the wall, rifle dropping to the floor and my blade nearly decapitating the second man in line.
As he started to fall, everything continued to move in slow motion while I seemed to be able to move at a normal speed. I then made mine, dispatching the third in line with a stab to his gut. I extracted the blade, and delivered an uppercut slash to the forth man's arm, causing him to fall back in pain. I then went for the kill strike; bring my blade down in whirl that slashed through the man's throat. As he fell to the floor; time then went to normal in a flash and everything collapsing to the floor in quickened succession.
Then a sudden explosion of weariness erupted throughout my body, causing me to collapse to my knees and hands. My lungs felt like they were on fire , my limps felt as heavy as lead, my brain pulsing in spikes of pain, my breathing as though I had sprinted for miles. I don't know how long I lay there, convulsing in my own exhaustion. Then as the pain throbbed in just blunt ache, when the many things fucked up about my body seemed to go back to normal, I slumped against what seemed to be a desk counter. I calmly took a sip from my Vault 13 flask, and looked around in the darkened gloom.
Even though the night time overcast made everything look pitch black, my eye were well adjusted to the darkness. Then I realized that there was no light or anything coming through the windows, where as there was coming through the open door. Slowly and painful I stood, moving to shut the door. This caused the room to go claustrophobic dark, yet this soon disappeared as I activated the Pip-Boy's light, painting everything about in a green hue. As I looked around, it came to me that this place must have been some kind of office.
Then as I turned, something caught my eye, something metal. I brought the light around and found myself staring at something that I could describe as odd as out of this world. I moved over it and began to examine it in detail, finding it rather difficult to explain in simple words. It was like a massive metal ball, the size of a man's torso, roughly. Its exterior looked a bit like a prewar Tank you'd see in old reels; armored, rough and dirty silver in color, with about half dozen comm. antennas sticking out from its back, three on the top and three on the bottom.
I turned it over, noticing its 'face' looked like a cooking grill. On its bottom was what I guessed some kind of anti-gravity device and just in front of that was the unmistakable appearance of a miniaturized laser. I turned it on its side, laughing a little at what it had stuck to its side. There was bumper sticker that said 'My son is an honor roll student at Roosevelt Academy, District of Colombia!' all in gold letters to really make this persons ego stand out. Next to that was an old rusted license plate bolted to its side, with all of the numbers and letters faded out except for three: ED-E.
"ED-E… Edie?" I mused over the robots name. Then something caught my eye and I turned it over, noticing the massive dent in its exoskeleton, next to that was what looked like a bullet hole. As it turned out, the back section of the robot was just an armored plate that was already unbolted, and opened wide like an old cabinet. I brought my Pip-Boy up and I peered inside to see what the damage was. I was surprised to find a second armored plate just behind the exterior one, and I noticed the remains of the slug imbedded in the metal.
I looked around, and I noticed a toolbox on the counter. I then reached in and pulled out a pair of pliers. With it, I pulled out what was left of the slug, and to my surprise found it was a .308 hunting round! Shot at twice, and only one of them was able to get through and even then it hadn't gotten far. Whoever built this robot was truly worthy of their skill.
I checked my Pip-Boy's internal clock: thirty minutes till midnight. Alright, I still have time. For next several minutes; I peered inside ED-E's internal working to see what had stop working. To my amazement, I found that the damage hadn't been total substantial. The bullet had only shred some of the wires connected to the robots power source (a packet of fission batteries connected to what looked like a solar panel), as well as two-of-the-six sensor modules used to be basically the robots internal and external eyes.
That was a little odd. I remembered taking apart other robots in the past and usually found only one or two sensor modules in them. Then again, this little guy had the six antennas; maybe as a comm. unit or maybe for recon purposes. Whatever the case may be, ED-E didn't prove too difficult to fix. In about ten minutes, I was able to fix the wiring and reconnect them to two spare sensor modules I found in the room. I then found a Soldering Iron, and was able to fuse bits of scrap metal over the bullet hole.
While it wouldn't be as strong as it once was, it at least wouldn't have a hole in its underside. I then closed its hatch, and applied the bolts. Almost as soon as I finished tightening the last bolt, the robot start vibrating like it was having a seizure. As I started backing away, it shot from the counter like a missile with a loud whoosh, flying around and beeping what seemed to be a happy tune. Then it seemed to turn its gaze to me and approached, beeping what seemed to be a question.
At first I was confused as to what to do, and then an idea came to me, as it seemed to be behaving as though it had an intelligence of its own:
"Hello little one, your name's ED-E, right? Name's Gideon; I fixed you up."
It started dancing about in the air and seemed to be beeping merrily. I nodded in reply:
"Do you know where you're from or who made you?"
It stopped dancing and seemed to almost shrug in the air. I posed another question:
"Do you have somewhere to go, bud?"
It…oh the hell with it. He shook his head and seemed to be playing music: sad Cash music. Well, he's got good taste.
"Do you wanna come with me? I could use the company."
Then it started nodding furiously, his speakers playing a piece from a song:
" We're gonna ride into the sunset forever…! "
I chuckled to myself. Yeah he's got good taste.
"Well I don't know about forever, bud. C'mon, we've got some bad guys up ahead; I could use a hand in dealing with 'em."
With that, he nodded once and played a short, military drum beat. I chuckled to myself and started walking over the bodies, opening the door and started back out into the street. I loosed my rifle from my shoulder and started moving across the street, ED-E bobbing along behind me, when my Pip-Boy beeped again. I looked down and noticed another message played on the screen: A signal amplifier has been detected; Sensorium function range has been increased.
Well that answered why ED-E had all those antennas. Well, not really, but it at least gave me an idea. I checked my clock again: ten minutes till midnight. Then the Sensorium started beeping its warning: there was movement just ahead of me. As four tickmarks began moving at a quickened pace, I scuttled to the wall, ED-E close behind. I had no idea if ED-E could understand tactics or not, but I knew that stealth was paramount.
"ED-E, go silent," I whispered, bringing my finger up to my lips. Oddly enough, the robot nodded, his buzzing seeming to muffle to just a barely audible hum. I brought my rifle forward and started moving back to where I began. As reached the corner, I could feel ED-E's presence, positioned like we were about to breach a room. So, this guy knows tactics, but… how?
I panned my head around the corner, noticing a patrol of four moving about the ground thirty feet out, and a door just to my left, which seemed to be bolted from the inside. I brought my rifle out, eye to scope and began moving from spot to spot, confirming targets. As I was doing this, I could feel ED-E moving to one of the adjacent pillars in a covering position. I could make out two snipers on the roof, another two patrolling the roller coaster, the patrol walking the grounds, plus another six by a camp fire. I heard a creak over my shoulder, and I turned my head.
In the gloom, I could make out the outline of the troopers, Lieutenant Hayes taking point with another three troopers on the other side of the road, moving silently. Hayes quickly came up to my shoulder; a question on his lips as his gaze moved to the floating robot.
"He's with me." I whispered. He nodded.
"How many did you see?"
"Over twenty. Seven have gone to buy the farm."
"You weren't kidding when you said you could yourself, Mr. Maddox. Where are the rest?"
"Two on the roof, two on the rollercoaster, and another ten on the grounds."
"We go on your mark then."
I nodded, and I brought the scope to my eye. I balanced my elbow on my knee and braced for my shot; my mind calculation the wind and bullet drop. I took a breath, and I took the shot. The first one dropped, his burning hot body blasting apart like flames in the scopes hue. As he fell, I cocked the bolt and locked onto the second target. As he moved forward, I separated his head from his shoulders to join his friend on the floor.
"Engage!" Hayes hollered, rising to his feet, his Service Rifle raised like an extension of his arm. I rose to my feet, shouldering my rifle and drawing my Colts. As the Troopers began charging forward, I gestured to ED-E:
"Go loud."
He beeped an acknowledgement that I could swear sounded like 'with pleasure.' Suddenly, his low humming turned into a scream as he shot from his cover like a raging missile, his speakers roaring a raging drum step that descended into full-on heavy battle music. I could feel the blood in me roar like a raging bear, as the company charged forward with our racing robot in front. The convicts in front were now skedaddling to cover, with the Trooper opening up with automatic fire.
As the convicts began returning fire, ED-E did the unexpected: he started bobbing around, blocking the enemies' fire like a shield! I could see bullets pinging off of his hide like the armor of an advancing tank and his retaliation was just as terrifying. As one of the convicts attempt to dodge to cover; a pure hot red beam fired from the robots underbelly like dragons breath: blasting into the center mass of the convict. In seconds the red hot beam surrounded him in its energy, its intense heat reducing the man to ash. The smell of ozone filled the air as time seemed to stand still, but not for ED-E.
With the roar of drums and orchestra playing in the air; the floating ball of death zoomed forward blasting convicts left and right, their meager bullets pinging off of his armored hide like moths to a hot bulb. The stillness of the air shattered; we advanced forward, engaging the convicts that had not been reduced to ash. One by one, the convicts either chose to surrender or suffer annihilation. As the troopers moved about, collecting their prisoners; I watched the gleaming robot hovering above it all: like the Reaper over a graveyard.
"Damn. Remind me not to piss off your 'bot." I heard a trooper chuckle, quietly. I sighed and gestured my hand, ED-E hovering over.
"ED-E, if you were a dog I'd give you a treat," ED-E seemed to chuckle at this, so I continued, "However, I can say this. Good job."
"Alright men!" I heard Hayes suddenly bellow, "We've cleared the streets, but no doubt there are more inside! I want a perimeter set up in five! Spread out and find any of the towns people if you can."
That perked my interests, and started looking around. Then I noticed the building I remembered had the bolted door. I chuckled at myself for not thinking it sooner.
"Hayes!" I called, the officer turning to face me, "I think I know where the townsfolk are! Follow me."
He nodded, gestured to one of his men to follow, and trotted over to where I was. I approached the door, and just as I was about to knock; Hayes stopped me.
"Maybe I should do it," He suggested, and moved over and began knocking on the door: "NCR army! Open up! You're safe!"
A moment of silence and then was promptly broken by a loud, gruff voice: "How do we know this isn't somekind of trick! We heard a lot of gunfire out there!"
Hayes gave me the 'why does this always happen' look, and was about to retort when I interrupted him: "If we were convicts, I don't think we'd try to weasel our way in!" I shouted at the door, "We'd just blow this door off its hinges and come in shooting."
Again, another moment of silence, another exchange of looks. This time, however, the silence was broken by the unbolting of locks and the cringe of long unoiled door hinges. The next thing I knew; I had a rather familiar .357 revolver in my face and a rather familiar face behind it. Hayes raised his Service Rifle on the doorman, but I shook my head and he lowered it.
"Nice to see you again, Maddox. Granted everywhere you go there seems to be a lot of noise and shit just getting blown up."
"Nice to see you too, Meyers." I replied, calmly, "You're a long ways from the Prison."
The doorman stepped out, confirming my suspicions about the man's identity. The only difference was that Meyers had replaced his blue jumpsuit for a cattleman's everyday appearance; black jeans, a white cotton shirt and a rancher vest to go with it. He held the .357 at chest level, and after a tense moment more, he holstered it.
"Go on in, Johnson Nash is the one who runs things here." Meyers said, turning his back and going on back into the building. The first thing one could see when they first entered was the remains of an ancient black Corvette riddled with dozens of bullets, sitting on a spinning display. Once one entered the room, then they understood what it was: the Vikki and Vance Casino.
"The partners in crime," I mused. Memories and grainy images began filling my mind: a package, a job as dull as any other, taken up by five others. Then another familiar face came to view, an older man, whose face was wearied down by a life out in wastes, darkened by the unending gaze of the deserts unmerciful master.
"You must be Johnson Nash." Hayes spilling out my thoughts with his own, "I'm Lieutenant Hayes…"
The chatter of the two men faded into the background noise as my eye scanned the hall about. Dozens of people, anger, relief and hunger written on each of their faces. The many blackjack tables, roulette spinners and card tables dotted all around, pale reflections of an age that had died violently some two hundred years ago. Funny, no one even knows who pressed the button first. Then suddenly, I heard loud, angry beeping and a loud crash behind me.
I turned, and I had to catch myself from bursting out laughing. ED-E was hovering over a fallen Meyers, the floating robot seeming to glare dead-eyed angry at him. He was oddly emitting very angry sounding chirps and beeps, which seemed to put the fear of God in the fallen Meyers.
"Well, well, well. It seems ED-E doesn't like you, Meyers." I said, chuckling to myself.
"What… What the hell is this thing?" Meyers asked, fear held in the croak of his voice.
"He's mine. That's all you need to know."
"Fine. Just tell it to leave me alone."
With that, ED-E turned its gaze to me and beeped what sounded like question. I nodded and gave him the 'you made your point' look. He looked down at Meyers and finally hovered over to where I was standing, allowing Meyers to quickly jump from the floor, going back to the wall. I chuckled dryly and posed the question that had been forming for the past five minutes:
"So how'd you end up here, Meyers? Here in the middle of nowhere?"
He pushed his hat further up and spoke:
"After you blew up the Prison, I wondered a bit through the night and eventually ended up here. Conveniently, around the same time that the Powder Gangers here murdered the town's sheriff and kidnapped the deputy. Now I'm trying to help keep some order in this place."
"Any idea how many convicts were dealing with?"
"Yep. Was able to get a count 'fore they ran this place to ground. I think there are 40, but there have been a few stragglers roaming in."
I nodded. That put the total number of hostiles to over ten, roughly. Well, now that the NCR had regained their nerves and were actually going to do their job, I think-
"Zzzzt… Howdy pardner, you must be new in town. 'Cause I've never seen you before!"
I turned around slowly, my eye scanning the source of the odd voice.
"Down here, pardner!" the odd, mechanical voice speaking again. I then looked down the stairs leading to the hall and I saw him… er, it. It was a robot, a protectron model. He was barely over five feet tall, with a rounded torso which was connected to vertical visor that gave him a Cyclops look. It had ball jointed, sluggish looking arms and near identical legs.
Yet, that wasn't the strangest thing. The strangest thing was it was wearing ornate white cowboy boots and an equally fancy hat. I heard a chuckle from over my shoulder and Meyers came walking over to where I was standing:
"Name's Primm Slim, the ornate and strange curator of the Car of Death exhibit you see in front of you."
If this Primm Slim had a face, I'm sure he would have scowled to go along with the annoyance in his voice: "I think I can handle my own introductions, Meyers! See my friend, this old sourpuss likes to go and ruin the flashiness of things!"
Meyers just chuckled at this:
"Hey, ruining the flashiness of your introductions is my job, Slim!"
Despite the weirdness of what I was experiencing, I had to admit its hilarity.
"Just a pity you won't actually tag along with me!" Meyers began, chuckling to himself the while, "You'd have made a fine deputy."
"As I told you before, my tasks as a curator must always come first!"
"Now that's just the worst excuse."
At this point, I decided to let these two argue with each other over the finer points of one man's wishes. I spotted Hayes and Johnson discussing matters over at one of the Blackjack tables. As I approached them, Hayes stood up and walked past me.
"Where do things stand here?" I asked him. He turned and replied:
"Nash has agreed to allow us to help keep the peace here. Once the situation with the convicts has been dealt with, we will do what we can."
"I spoke with one of the folks here, a former sheriff," I began, choosing my word regarding Meyers with the utmost care, "He said that were 40 of 'em in town."
"40? Then that leaves under fifteen holed up in the Bison Steve. Well I'll head out and get the rest of my men out here to set up a perimeter around the Hotel."
With that, Hayes headed out of the Casino. I turned and found Johnson looking at me.
"You're one of the Express Couriers, aren't you?" He said in a wearied voice.
"Was it that obvious?" I replied in a cheerful expression. He laughed a little and gestured for me to take a seat.
"You were one of the six couriers I sent out with one of those packages. I remembered you were the only one who asked the important question."
"Which was?"
"Who had ordered those packages to be delivered."
"Obviously someone very important to want to kill the couriers carrying them," I remarked, removing my hat and revealing my still bandaged head. Nash leaned over and felt where the bullets had hit their marks.
"Damn. You survived that?"
"At the cost of most of my memories. What can you tell me about the packages?"
"Like I said, there were seven of them. There was a chess piece, a pair of fluffy dice, a snow globe, a dradle, some kind metal match box, a medallion and your platinum chip. And odd enough, the one who contracted us the deliveries was a cowboy robot."
"A cowboy robot? What'd he look like?"
"Like a box with a screen on a wheel."
My mind went back to that mysterious securitron back at Goodsprings: Victor. Before I left, he had told me that he had rolled into that town some ten years prior, and many in the town had confirmed his story. Yet despite that, how many cowboy robots built like a box on a wheel did I know?
"You know, come to think that wasn't the oddest part," Nash said, interrupting my thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
"Just before we were going to send the couriers out, there was another courier who was supposed to deliver your package."
"What happened?"
"He got this look when he saw you on the courier list. He asked me if you were still kicking and I told him you were. Then he told men that 'Courier 6 should deliver the package'. Then he up quit and left town."
"Do you know where he went, who he was?"
"No idea. Said his name was Ulysses or something like that. Did you know him?"
I shook my head and I meant it. I had no idea who this 'Ulysses' was or why'd he react to my name like that. I decided to change the subject:
"The man who shot me, he was a cityboy in a checkered suit and he had a couple of Khans with him. Do you know if they came this way?"
"Now that you mentioned it, I think they did. I know Deputy Beagle had some notes on them."
I groaned at this and asked the question that had been stirring in my mind:
"This wouldn't happen to be the same Deputy who was taken captive by the convicts?"
"Yes actually he was."
"Great…"
