Chapter XVI:
Q&A
Caesar
The pain was getting worse. Already I could feel it throb on my temple like a beating drum, constantly reminding me of the frailty of my life and my purpose. How long do I have, I wonder. Years, months?
"Mea veta, non tamen est perfecta," I reminded myself as I paced the foot of my bed. Long ago, the Blackfoots—those fucking savages they once were—taught me how to harness my pain and refine it. Turn into a strength.
"Iratus est fortitudo mea."
Yet here; the headaches, the nausea, the fucking weakness I feel within my bones, all of it only serves to make me weaker, not stronger. I have withstood great pain, greater travesty, purae defectum. Yet all of those before were nothing more than temporary setbacks. Challenges to learn from and eventually overcome.
"Iaciebantur ab confortabitur."
This sickness though, this disease, this terminal weakness… it cannot be avoided, it cannot be fought, it cannot be destroyed. Only delayed. And I can only delay it for so long. Finally, I returned to the war room, my fingers trailing over the long pine wood table adorn scarlet by woven cloth. I felt its familiar texture; rough and coarse.
Then my eyes came upon the source of my misfortunes. My maximum hostibus. Much like my namesake; this one artifact of a long dead past has stood and blocked my path to true conquest. As Julius was halted at the passes of the Alps to restore order to Rome; Hoover Dam remains a bulwark to my impending conquest of the west. For years I have studied this pre-war diagram. I have learned it secrets, its functions, its every hall and stone. Yet knowledge alone will never be enough.
Soon though, my monster shall return from his conquests in the East to begin preparations for the West. He will break the Bear in two. And beyond the Dam lies my true prize. For Julius it was Rome. For me it is Vegas.
As it burns, so shall its corruption, its peccatum, die. From its ashes, my Novae Romae, my Pax Romana, shall be solidified. Now longer a nomadic army. Now an Empire. And yet therein lies my greatest frustration.
I will not live to see my Rome grow. I will not be there to see it conquer the Republic, to see my standard upon the shores of the Pacific. Nor shall it every be so. For my greatest weapon is my Legion's folly. I have created a great beast within Lanius.
He has destroyed many of my foes, scattering their ashes with salt upon a thousand miles. Yet the beast is only capable of his namesake. Butchery. He cannot rule for he is not meant to. He will burn and pillage where he not need, raze when it is to build.
"Imperium sanguinem lapidibus."
Yet who shall I turn to? If there was any a great mistake, it was not finding a proper heir to the throne of the Mighty Imperator. Malpais is long gone, no doubt rotting in some grave outside the smoky remains of his precious New Canaan. I closed my eyes, memories of the many years we spent together flooding through me. Without him, there would be no Legion, yet he failed his duty and thus had to be punished.
And what of Aurelious? My Consul of Phoenix now serving Centurious in Cottonwood Cove has come a long way. Yet the man is a simple thing. Formidable a warrior, efficient a praefectus, yet lacks any sapientum. He is a man easily to be stabbed in the back.
And who else to do such an action than the Consul of the Frumantarii himself? I have crafted Vulpes to be my eyes and ears, the shadow upon my enemies. Yet he is not a millitus, nor servitor, nay an executor. He is a spy, but he is not capable of sitting upon my throne, for he would wilt within the light. Lest he be destroyed by all others.
"Mortemus."
The name still haunts me. My greatest failure: a survivor of perhaps my greatest opponent before I came to Nevada. One might call me foolish to attempt to mold the man into a proper heir. Even Malpais told me after he was captured at Willow Creek that he could never be swayed to our cause; that all the pain and torture had only hardened the man's soul. Yet when I looked into his eyes that day as a dozen men had to hold him down, I knew then I had met my truest equal.
I realize now that I should have killed him. I let my pride get in the way of my fucking common sense.
"Casum superbiae vocet."
As a fresh pain flared in my temple, I waddled my way to entrance of my tent. There my eyes ran across the entirety of the camp, the countless centuries and cohorts all strewed across the remnants of this long dead fortress. I could hear the training drums beat long into the day as my Legion prepared for our revenge. For four long years we have campaigned in the East; gathering our strength as we razed and burned, collecting tribute from the fallen. Even now that fucking thorn in my side, Denver, falls to the blade of Lanius.
Denver has always been a drain of troops and resources. Constantly it defied our forces, sheltering my enemies and harassing our flanks. For ten years, it has endured.
"No more."
Lanius has sent word of the great number of slaves recovered from the campaign, of the tribes destroyed and indoctrinated into the Legion. Denver burns at long last. Still, there will always be dogs left from the great feast. Lanius will not depart until they are hunted and exterminated. And that always takes time.
"And time is my enemy."
"Imperator?"
I turned to see Praetorian Maxim standing before me, his head bowed and his arm clenched to his chest in the sign of the Aquila.
"What is it, Praetorian?"
"Consul Vulpes as arrived at your request, Imperator. He has recovered from his injuries."
"Good. I will receive him."
"Ave, Imperator."
As he turned to leave, I chanced one last look out into the horizon. There, my eyes wondered, as they always would, to Dam. The fucking Dam. I narrowed my eyes, the sun reflecting off its white marble. I would see it fall. By Mars I would.
"Ave, Lord Caesar."
The icy voice always catches me unawares. Always it sends ice into my bones. Yet now I clench my teeth at this impotence. At this fucking failure.
"Report."
"My Lord? I believe you have already received my tabula."
"And I found its details to be wanting," I replied, my anger subdued into a stern interjection, "I want to know how my gladius in the dark came to be humiliated. How he became the only survivor of what should have been a simple operation. Tell me, and do not waste my fucking time or I will feed you to Lucius's mongrels balls first."
It always unnerved me how impassive Vulpes could be. Not a single muscle in his face moved as he stared calmly, unemotionally back at me. How the man could feel no fear. Not even death. His response was swift and unhesitant:
"We encountered an opposition that I had never chanced before, Imperator. An opposition both skilled and resourceful."
"Yes, your report stated as much. What I want to know is how just a man, a robot and a fucking woman of all things managed to best you."
"There was a fourth man, Imperator. I wasn't sure then but I am now. When we departed Nelson, we were stalked by a man wearing the colors of the First Recon Snipers. I dispatched three men to flush the man out. I found their bodies in a gulch, each with a hunting round through the chest. When the battle began, several of my men were killed with headshots."
"You are certain it was this man?"
"Aye Imperator. What troubles me most is that this man travelled alone. Snipers never stalk their prey by themselves and yet this man did just that."
"Our wars here have made many a vengeful specter. Continue."
He nodded, still no change in that ghost-like face of his.
"The robot was nothing like I ever saw before. Even when we fought the Brotherhood. Our bullets and spears did little to damage him, and even when snared him in nests he drew the lightning of Jupiter upon those that tried to dismantle him."
"It was one, you were many. You have yet to justify yourself, Vulpes."
"Patience, Imperator. There are afterall two for me to discuss."
If it were any other man, I would have his tongue cut out. Yet I allowed him to continue his plea:
"The woman is known to us via my spies in the Caravan Trade. A Rose of Sharon Cassidy," I smirked at the poor tribute to the character of that depressing book, "she has caused trouble to us before. She is a woman not to be crossed."
"She is still only a woman, Vulpes. Now the man."
"He is a mystery to me, Imperator. He was clearly the leader. He is the one who gave me this," he gestured down to his stomach. To his credit, Vulpes crawled his way back to the Cottonwood on that injury.
"The man clearly had balls," I replied bluntly, "there is more, I presume?"
"Yes. The man has fought us before."
"Explain."
"The way he fought. The order in which he shot my men, killing the decanuses before the commoner and his skill in hand-to-hand combat. It was almost as though he'd been trained by...us."
"You're certain?"
"If the way that—"he hesitated, "the former Legatus trained his warriors is any indication."
That perked my interests.
"Describe him."
"Tall, well built and strong. He was tanned with black hair. From the way he held himself he was clearly a warrior, and a lethal one at that. There was a fire in his eye, the kind of hatred I have never before encountered."
My mind raced.
"You said eye. Was he missing one?"
"Yes. His left eye was bandaged. Why do you ask?"
"His name. Did any of his companions say his name?"
"The caput igne called him… Gideon. What is this profligate to you?"
I turned my back, my knuckles pressing into the hard oak of my war table. I smiled deeply, and for once the pain abated:
"You've come home at last."
"My Lord?"
I turned, my smile growing even wider as I took him by the shoulder.
"Vulpes, my spymaster, you are lucky to still be breathing."
"Who is he?"
"My greatest creation… and my greatest disappointment."
Gideon
I guess I really shouldn't be surprised. For the past couple of weeks, I have done nothing but getting my ass handed to me then waking up the day after feeling like complete shit. To be a bit more specific, I woke up feeling like my entire upper body had been used as a punching bag. I laughed a little, which made my insides jiggle painfully. I was used as a punching bag!
"Morning sleepyhead."
I looked up and saw Cass across from me, hovering over a table with a lot of disassembled machine parts scattered about alongside dew rags. The smell of cleaning oil lay heavy in the air, so I guessed the obvious. I chuckled weakly.
"Doesn't feel like morning, Ms. Greasemonkey."
"Oh har har har, eat shit jerkface," she chuckled, "and to answer your question, it isn't."
"How long was I out?"
"Goin' half a day plus some change."
With a start, I tried to jump from the bed only to have a thousand hot needles rack me across my ribs, sending me crashing comfortably back into the bed. When I tried again, Cass jumped from her seat like a startled cat and held me down. That was when I realized my entire torso was completely wrapped in bandages.
"Take it easy, you masochist," she commanded, "ya went through a lot of shit last night, so that constitutes a full days rest."
"Cass, I can't," I grunt as I tried to roll away from her only to have me moved back over, "Cass, I've wasted too much time already."
"Gideon lay your ass down or I will lay it for you!" she growled. Reluctantly, I did as I was told. With a sigh, she sat back in her chair, wiping her brow with a back hand.
"Gid, half of your ribs were bruised. Now I'm no doctor, but I think that means ya shouldn't be jumpin' around like a crazy monkey high on jet."
For a long minute, I glared at her hatefully. But eventually it dawned on me the truth of what she was saying. I couldn't extract any form of revenge on Vegas Man, not while I'm this battered. I sighed, and let my miserable head sink into the pillow.
"Window ain't closed yet, Gid," she replied reassuringly, "Boulder City is still a day's hike from the 188. Twice that considering it's Khans doing the walking in NCR territory. We still have time."
"I know," I grumbled, "I'm just tired of getting jerked around. First by Powder Gangers, then by Legion and then by this stinking hive of mutated bastards. It's like I have to kick everybody's ass to get anywhere. So just for once I would like our plans to go without getting monkeywrenched by some despicable jackass."
"Hey, that's just part of the fun!"
"What? Us getting our asses kicked all the time?"
"Exactly!"
I couldn't help but laugh, which was very short lived indeed.
"Veronica must be rubbing off on you. You're never this cheerful."
"Hey! I'm cheerful all the damn time, ya just don't notice. You brooding and all."
"I don't brood… do I?"
She just shook her head with the wilyest grin you can imagine. After a minute I finally asked the question that had been haunting me every since I woke:
"How are the lovebirds?"
She took a minute to answer:
"They're not tryna kill each other, so I guess that's a start."
"Yeah, I guess."
"What you said last night… that was… well, damn."
"That bad?"
"Hell no. It got the job done. But you said 'bout us bein' orphans and all…"
"What about it?"
"Dunno, I just never thought about it before."
"Yeah," I nodded somberly, "A Caravan of Orphans. Sounds like a bad joke."
"I dread its punchline. Which leaves you."
"Yeah. But I don't need my memories to tell me that."
"You definitely got the look of someone who gets booted into leaps of trouble. Which brings me back to a point."
"What point is that?"
"You fainted last night. I wanna know why."
"Cass, c'mon it's not important."
I didn't really know how she's react in that moment. A rant, maybe cold silence. Instead, she took my hand in hers as she bore me down with those chilling blue eyes of hers.
"Gideon, do you wanna end up like Boone?"
"Not particularly."
"Then level with me here. It's like you said, ya ain't alone anymore. You got me to figure things out. Besides, ya fuckin' fascinate me."
"Oh really?" I asked with a cocky smile and raised eyebrow. She just rolled her eyes.
"Don't get any ideas, lover boy," she smirked, "ya just make my days unboring. Granted I don't think I've been shot at quite as often as when I'm with you."
"Hey, I'm a bullet magnet. What can I say?"
She didn't laugh, though. I sighed and took a long minute about what needed to be said. Finally, I began my exposition:
"I don't know what this dream or memory or whatever the hell it is, means. And I don't know when they taken place, save sometime in my past."
"Go on."
"I recognized the place. I could remember the air tasting like salt. Could feel the corrosiveness in my boots as I trudged through the swamp. From my guess, I was either in or somewhere close to the Great Salt Lake."
That surprised her.
"Gideon, that's White Leg territory. Most caravaners aren't stupid enough to go that far north. What the hell were you doing there?"
"I was hunting them."
She didn't believe the words that came out of my mouth.
"Nobody hunts the White Legs on their own turf."
"I was though, and I wasn't alone. There were at least eight of us, all armed to the teeth and moving through the darkness with military precision. We hit them in the dawn," I closed my eye as the horrors of that bloody day began to seep in, "It wasn't a battle, Cass. It was a goddamn slaughter. We…" I stopped to collect my thoughts, "I, cut my way through not just the men, but also the women and the children," I shuttered at this, "We butchered them like livestock. But what scared me more was what I was feeling at the time," I look her hard in the face, "I wasn't feeling guilt or sorrow, but anger. A hot, searing hatred that consumed my very being. I hated them so much that killing 'em was as easy as breathing."
Silence. Cass stared at me, her mouth drooped open in shock, as her eyes stared me. I couldn't even describe what that look. I couldn't read what she was feeling, and it made me all the more cold.
"Now do you understand why I didn't want to say anything at the time?"
She nodded somberly.
"I do, Gideon. But…" she stopped to look at me, rolling her eyes over me before she continued, "I've tangled with the White Legs. Yes, I was the one stupid caravener to barge into their turf and I've…" she stopped again, closing her eyes tight as her breathing became shallow, her voice strained somewhere between grief and rage, "I've seen what they do to children. What they do to women. So I'll tell you that whatever you did to those… those… fucking savages," she growled with an anger that rivaled mine in that moment all those years ago, "they deserved more."
I nodded, the words of the red-haired man running through my brain.
"That's what Roy told me."
"Who's Roy?"
"There was a man there. Early twenties, short cropped red hair, heavily freckled. He—I don't know who he is. But I feel like I do. And he keeps popping up in my past."
"You've seen him before."
I nodded remembering the attack on the prison which seemed so long ago.
"A few days before I met you, I had another memory like this. Roy was there. And there was a woman. Same deal. And in that memory, we were fighting the Legion."
"What's next: you fighting Deathclaws?"
"I wouldn't be surprised. I seem to have a bad habit of trying to kick everything mean and ugly in the ass."
It finally got the result I wanted. When she'd calm down enough, she continued her interrogation:
"Well this gives us a couple of hints 'bout who you are. Namely, we got a face to ask."
"If he's alive," I pointed out, "and if he is, I don't know where to find him."
"It's a start at least. Plus there aren't many out there who've fought all those you have."
"I guess," I pushed myself against the wall, "that can wait though. How are the others holding up?"
"Well, the Ghoul is keepin' himself busy with the Rover."
"What's wrong with the Rover?"
"Wouldn't say. Just started shoutin' something or other in Spanish," well that's just fucking great, "Boone's working with Neil to loot some of the compounds stores."
"Who's Neil?"
"He's a mutant Boone ran into on the way up and don't worry he's on our side. Boone wouldn't be alive without him."
"Fine. But I meet him and I'm packing. Clear?"
"Fine by me. V and the bot are tryna salvage some tech off the transmitter we blew up earlier."
Well at least everybody's keeping busy.
"Tonight. We need to get everybody together. I think it's time some things were said."
"I agree."
I found my window about an hour later. I don't mind having Cass taking care of me, but I can't just lie in bed doing nothing. I need to do something or else the monotony is going to drive me insane and besides I have a list of questions that need probing. Sure, it hurts to walk and talk and generally do anything, but you know what? Pain is refreshing.
I immediately ate my words when ED-E practically tackled me to the ground.
"Hey buddy," I winced as I tried to dislodge the floating discoball, "I missed you too, but seriously get off!"
He took a float back but he still swarmed all over me like a crazed puppy. His radio blared out a blurred, incoherent fusion of songs that sounded gibberish. But I understood him well enough. Then Veronica came to my rescued:
"C'mon buddy, Gideon's broken enough as it is. No need to reduce him to dust."
"Yeah," I chuckled as she hefted me on to my feet, "considering his body count I would say he's capable of worse."
"Oh I know," she winked, "I studied his model, well his earlier models. Granted, I never thought I'd have the pleasure," he beamed brightly at this, "of travelling with one. Then again I didn't think any would still be functioning after the Oilrig or Navar-"
"Doc," I interrupted with a genuine impersonation of that damned bunny, "yer motor-mouthing again. Otta take a breath 'fore ya burst like a tomato."
She smiled like a six year old kid.
"Hallelujah, I'm not the only who's seen that cartoon!"
"What you kidding?" I smirked, "I fucking love that show! Granted I wish the coyote would just murder that damn roadrunner already."
She smiled again.
"Now I know who you remind me of."
"V, there's no way in hell I'm that wily or that indestructible."
We both laughed, granted mine lasted exactly five seconds before I felt fire under my skin again and I had to stop. But V just kept laughing until she had tears.
"Sorry. I haven't laughed like that in years."
"Happy to oblige. V," I asked with all the care I could muster, "how you holding up?"
"You mean with all the shenanigans we went through the last couple of days or with Boone?"
"Both I guess."
"I honestly don't know. It's not my first time, but this is perhaps the most personal."
"V, c'mon—"
"No, Gideon. Boone was right. Right about everything. Right about the Brotherhood and—"
"V," I grabbed her by the shoulders. Strange, there's something hard underneath this robe, "stop beating yourself up for things you had no involvement in. Besides, everything that is breathing has had to do terrible things to stay alive in this fucked up little world of ours. That does not make you a bad person."
"But what if we're not willing to change? To try and maybe do better?"
"What is this about, V? What are you getting at?"
She didn't respond. She opened her mouth to speak but then promptly shut it as her eyes rolled sideways.
"V," I soothed, "whatever it is you can tell me."
"It's not that. I just… it's something that everybody needs to hear."
"What?"
"Why I'm here."
"Porque te engendro mecánico! Te rompo en pedazos! Lo hare—gah! Oh Jesús Cristo! Don't sneak up on me like that! I'm old. I might vomito mi intestinos en usted."
"Well I've already been through pretty much everything else so I guess that wouldn't be too surprising," I chuckled, "so Cass's told me you're working on the engine. What's wrong with it?"
"What's wrong with it, he says," Raul grumbled, "Boss, whoever put together this asqueroso mierda of an engine should be thrown head first into a letrina then roasted over a spindle!"
"Raul, I thought it's unwise to speak ill of the dead."
"The dead can kiss mi pudriendo culo! This engine is an abomination!"
"Well what's the problem with it exactly?"
He practically grabbed me by the shoulders and threw over to the open hood of the Land Rover. And believe me, it was a mess. It was a giant cobble of torn wires and battered parts all thrown about yet somehow remaining attached by some miracle.
"Okay. It did not look like this when I found it."
"Lo juro suave la piel," he swore under his breath, "I had to rip apart the engine because la piel verde smashed the thing first! Regardless, the bastard is a hobble patchwork barely held together by ducktape! No me mierda que, the radiator itself is being held by three year old wonderglue! It broke off in my hand! I'm about ready to set fire to this unholy thing!"
"Okay easy up, Kilgore," I held up my hands to steady him, "first things first: no setting fire to anything. Second can you fix this thing?"
"If I had four days to my lonesome, I could rebuild this entire thing around a proper fusion core. It would work properly with twice power."
"We don't have four days."
"Boss, I know. I'm just filling your head with a dizzying prospect of glamorous hope. My mistake. But yes, I can fix this impios bastardo monstruno nino del infierno by say, maybe dinner?"
"Well that's a start I suppose."
"Bien por ti. Now hand me that socket wrench."
After this, he buried himself into the hood and I turned to leave.
"You know she cares about you."
I stopped cold.
"Who does?"
"Don't play coy, boss. You know who I'm talking about."
"Well, that's none of your damned business then."
"Gideon," he stepped out from the hood to face me, and what surprised me most were his eyes. They were narrow-slit, but focused upon me. They were sincere, devoid of any kind of humor, "I know it's not my business. But look at me. I've lived a dozen different life times so I'm accustomed to life passing me by. So listen to me when I tell you this," he pointed in the direction of the main compounded and the person in it, "that girl in there cares a great deal about you. Don't throw your chance with that because it comes only once in life. La mujer que pueden crecer hasta la muerte con viejo te parte. Don't throw that away just because of revenge."
"Raul," I turned about to face him, "it's… it's not about that."
"Ah I see," he rested his hands on his hips, "you're afraid of commitment then."
"No, I don't think—"
"Boss, I've lived long enough to have seen all the different tipos de personas in every walk of life. You strike me as a good man, a tough man who's walked a tougher road. And that's the problem. I can see in your eye a lot of pain rolled up in many different layers. And yes, Cass told me about your amnesia problemo. But I think you don't need memories to know this, right?"
I nodded slowly. He continued.
"You've let that pain shape you. Now, it has made you hard as uñas, but… you have let that make you lonely. Why? Because by and by, you are afraid to lose her."
I smiled slightly.
"Are you sure you're just a mechanic?"
He smiled back.
"I'm just an old man who seen everything life has to offer. So have I… er, golpeo en la cabeza?"
"Partially. Yes everything you said is true but…" I stopped to think about the next thing coming forward, "Raul, you and I both know how probably screwed up my past life is, considering what I'm able to do. I won't involve her or anybody else until I figure it out."
He smiled a very wry smile, showing his peculiar white teeth.
"Boss, you are the rarest thing in the universe."
"What's that?"
"Un caballero."
I smiled at that. He then shook his hand at me and dived back under the hood.
"Ah look at me getting sentimental. Go on, I'm sure you have better things to do."
Neil
"So you're Neil?"
The human caught me off guard, but it did not surprise me. I'd been waiting for it since this morning.
"And you're Gideon Maddox. I heard you don't particularly like my kind."
As I turned, the one-eyed man glared at me like that nameless bounty hunter from that very old movie as his hand went behind his back, no doubt to grip a hidden weapon.
"No," he replied coldly, "I don't. Walk with me."
The muscles in my neck tensed, but I forced myself to be calm. From everything Boone of the NCR has told me, this human is honorable. He won't shoot me in the back, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he would. This was only further emphasized when I saw his hand reach around his back and stay there for several seconds. But then it returned empty handed.
"A cautious one, I see."
"When life has tried to kill you with everything it can, you take it as a natural habit."
"I can agree with that."
And so the human took point and I followed closely. He hobbled slightly with every step and when we reached the crest of the hill overlooking the valley of my previous handiwork; he was winded. Yet he stood either way, beside the fact his knees shook slightly.
"In your state, it is perfectly honorable to sit and rest," I offered politely. He spun and glared at me.
"Don't offer me advice, Greenie. You and I are still on thin ice," his voice felt strained and he looked down at the ground before coming back to face me, "but, I'll take it anyway."
And so we sat, my eyes watching him carefully. There was something about him, something abnormal; a supposition that I could not explain. It served to echo the many stories that Marcus had shared with me about his journeys with the Chosen One. And when I looked upon him, I was reminded of him. All those tales of his heroics, of his honesty and courage, of his trials and many, many faults, and I could see many of them upon him.
What a strange coincidence.
"You lookin' at something, Greenie?"
"Just you."
He shrugged and stared down at the valley. I didn't need look to know the smoldering wreck that now became the tomb of those I once called brother and sister. Those of us created to become the greatest lifeform of this destroyed world, only now to bear the same curse as all the rest. Not so special then are we? His whistle, which echoed loudly over the rolling hills, shook me from my thoughts.
"Hot damn," he smirked, "Now that's a hole! So how'd you do it?"
"A Fatman, human."
"A Fatman?" he bellowed sarcastically, which was followed by a long set of coughs before he continued, "first we got a Super Mutant who doesn't want to eat us, and would rather murder his own kind than do so! Plus to top it off, did it with a nuclear catapult! Wow, that's quite a story. You should get that published!"
I narrowed my eyes.
"Are you purposely trying to test my patience?"
"Got that right, ya green skin bastard. My instinct tells me I haven't met a Mutant who hasn't tried to eat me. So are you?"
"No," I replied, "but you are tempting. I think you might taste delicious."
"Heh, so you can joke. That's new too."
"Clearly you haven't met Marcus."
"Who?"
"Someone you'll eventually meet."
"Well that's vague."
"Meant to be, human."
He stared at me, his eyebrow raised. I could allow myself to smile a little. This human was doing the same task as I was. He was, oh what's the phrase? Summing me up.
"So, why did you help?"
"You mean why did I choose strangers over my own kind?"
He nodded.
"Because they were not my kind, human. Tell me, do you weep when you kill a fellow human? Do you despair when you slaughter perhaps dozens because they would do the same to you? Or do you accept it as part of what you must be to live one more day?"
"Do you?"
"I am ancient. I have lived for centuries. And I have killed many in many a leader's name. I butchered for a God who cursed us with our existence. I have slaughtered for my species advancement, and at times, it's very survival. Yet here, here on this mountain of sand and broken worlds, I killed for my conscience. You see," I pointed to the valley of tombs, "those who now sleep with the inferno there that I have sown had exhausted their reason to live. They help rob me and others of our chance for peace. You ask why I killed my own kind. I killed because I only want us to be left alone, to live out our lives without the threat of persecution or madness overtaking us."
He did not speak. He did not even breathe. Rather he sat in the silence, only the wind whimpering softly between us. Dragging perhaps a handful of sand to be displaced someplace else. An uncaring world to set foreground between us.
His answer came in the form of a nod, and when his eye closed at last, he answered softly.
"I… can accept that."
He stared out across the miles of bare sand, stretching across from mountain to mountain. Until at last it reached the remains of civilization. And there at its center, a single glimmering tower of metal, shinning defiance to some and hope to others. I have seen it a thousand times to know the look it creates in others. Yet it did not last as he soon returned to reality.
"I want you to understand something, Neil," he began, taking a moment to look back at what remained of Tabitha's madness, "I don't hate you. I fear you. Do you understand the difference?"
I nodded.
"That's why I have this," he removed the heavy handgun from behind his back, and set it down between us, barrel pointing away, "I never wish to use it. And I wish that I didn't have such an intimate relationship with death. But I do. And so I must use it. And that is why I don't trust you."
"Because my kind hasn't given you a reason to?"
"Yeah. But I'm hoping you can set the score right."
I nodded.
"I don't wish to fight, Gideon. I want peace. I want to live out my life simply, in harmony with everything and everyone else. That is why I helped you. I don't want to return to the days of the Master. I don't want to be seen as the monster he made us to be."
"Y'know, I've always heard of this Master. That he was a boogeyman from way back when. But I always thought he was a legend."
"He wasn't. He was a man, like you and me. And he became the first of my kind. And then he created us. The perfect beings, to inherit an imperfect world. There was something he once said, centuries ago, that summed up perfectly what he created us to do. We are the Master Race. Able to survive, and even thrive in the wasteland. Yet so long as there are differences, we will eventually tear ourselves apart."
"So he wanted to replace us then?"
"Yes. He wanted peace. He wanted order. But that's not really what he wanted, even if he did not realize it. He wanted to rule. To be a God of creatures made in his image. And he had us do terrible things to ensure his accession. And for that, we bear that shame. And Tabitha," I peered behind me again, "She only reminded me of what I once was: a monster doing monstrous things."
"I know a thing or two about monsters."
"I have no doubt. I have seen the worst, but also the best in humanity," I gestured my finger solely at him, "in my time, there have been men of great things who arrive to set right the balance of the world. First against my kind, then against the Enclave. And now," I stood peering out towards the great wall far away from prying eye, "against new evils."
"Ah c'mon," he smiled, "look at me. Do I look like hero material to you? I'm just an out of luck courier who keeps getting shot at."
"You and I both know you are more than that. Afterall, not many can boast they prevented two mortal enemies from killing the other."
"That… that was just luck."
"Was it? Do you really believe that?"
"I don't know what to believe. All I know is that I just keep getting lucky."
I smiled down at him.
"You know, before I became this, I used to live in a Vault. I don't remember much. But there was a book, an explanation for the steps of great men. Its author was a simple man named Joseph Campbell."
"Your point being?"
"Denial, Mr. Maddox. Denial."
"Ha. Well, I'm not in denial about anything. I just don't really give a shit."
I couldn't help but laugh. It sounded so strange to my ears. I haven't laughed in a long time.
"But Neil?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks. Thanks for saving our asses back there, especially Boone's. I owe you big time."
Gideon
"The Brotherhood is failing."
It was nine in the evening and we'd finally had everybody to have our little powwow. Last couple hours we'd spent getting our gear stored, along with emptying the armory and anything else valuable into duffle bags that were now strapped to the bed of my truck. From what Cass wrote in her little notebook and the general look she gave over everything here; we'd probably make a couple thousand. Raul kept his word and finally joined us after about 6 hours or so working on the engine. The guy was covered from scalp to knee in motor oil.
"Don't ask, Boss. Just know I'm un hombre de mi palabra."
"Hey I had no doubt. Just remind me the next time we find an identical green jumpsuit and maybe a shower, you're tossing that."
"A la mierda no."
As for me, Cass had me quarantined to the bed for the last half day. Honestly, I'm glad. That talk with Neil just about killed me. I already feel better. Granted that was probably going to change pretty damn soon.
Boone and ED-E both got on ash digging duty. From what he told me though he had a hard enough time trying to incinerate their damn corpses.
"Tough hides, Gideon. A hell of a lot less combustible than ours."
He now sat in the corner, close to the door with his rifle propped against the wall with only his left hand holding the bowl of stewed K-Rations. I knew he was well past the shoot on sight phase, but seeing him there like that still set me on edge a little. I'd only got to know both of these guys and gals on a couple of days, and I still cared pretty badly for 'em. Last thing I need is them killing each other. Hell I could even feel the fear coming off of ED-E and I doubt he scares easy.
My eyes somehow found their way to Cass, who sat also in another corner; spinning away over the little caldron of better-than-nothing grub. She met mine, and the look she gave me sent a little ice water down my spine. Yeah, she wasn't the only one either. Which left Veronica, who stood before us all with her back turned. It was a long agonizing pause before she spoke again; her voice a slight quiver despite all her effort to remain steady, turning to face us:
"You all know our story, our purpose here. For centuries, we have collected and confiscated technology to serve as a bulwark against our own self destructive nature."
"Ya mean keepin' all the big bad toys away from everybody?" Cass inquired. Veronica nodded.
"So they don't blow themselves up. But even long before I was born we've lost our way."
"That's putting it lightly," Boone remarked.
"Watch it," I growled, but Veronica just shook her head.
"No Gideon, he's right. Everything that he said last night about the Brotherhood was all true. Every bit of it," she looked over to my right, over to where Neil was and she seemed to hesitate.
"It's alright, child," he answered with his balls deep baritone, "say what needs to be said."
She nodded and continued.
"Gone are the days of us fighting the creations of a madman. Of us helping a tribal bring down an evil born from the old world or even helping everyday settlements from just everyday horrors. We've become so obsessed with our mission that we've forgotten what it means to be human. We don't recruit from the outside, or pay heed to their ideas, or their protests. Instead, we just waste away hiding in our bunkers, completely isolated from the world above."
She looked over to Boone and her face grew paler like a walk through a cemetery.
"And when we do come out, we take what doesn't belong to us. And we've done nothing but make enemies from everybody else."
She sighed heavily and slumped into a chair, her fingers pressed twixed upon her brow.
"Y'know, there was a time when the Brotherhood was the leading edge in science. So many frontiers to crack, so many secrets to unravel, so much good to be done with what we have and had," she looked up at us, "but now? We've become so phobic of tech that it's grown to the point of irrationality. And it's spread to everything that we do."
"So that's what you meant," I replied, remembering what she'd told me earlier, "the Brotherhood's not willing to change?"
"Not willing to adapt. We've become as rigid as a board and it's killing us. And I have tried everything to try and make them see reason. And that's how I ended up out here."
"They kicked you out?"
"More like I kicked myself out," she replied with a smirk that quickly vanished, "nothing was getting done, and I am almost entirely on my own here."
"Not anymore," Boone replied, completely startling everybody in the room, especially Veronica. We all turned to stare at him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Clearing his throat, he continued:
"Look, I was wrong Veronica. What I—what I did last night was out of line. And I can't judge you or your people, considering I'm a hell of a lot worse. And the bear isn't exactly clean of its own crimes, either."
"Nobody is, Boone," I replied softly, "in this life, you either fight or you die."
"It's not always that simple, Gideon."
"Why do you say that?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but he promptly closed it. And by the look in his eye he wasn't going to. Christ, what is with these people and their goddamn secrets?
"So, una extrana, if you're convinced that your people can't change, then what are you doing out here? Looking for a new life?"
"No. I'm looking for solutions. That's why I asked Gideon if I could come along. I can't help them find their way with stuffy books in a stuffier bunker. I need to see the world, and see how its people survive. I just haven't found what I'm looking for yet."
"Girlie, just cause somethin' works for one bunch of folk don't mean it'll work for yours."
"I know!" she blurted out angrily, but immediately dawned an apologetic face, "I'm sorry, Cass. But I just don't know what else to do. If we continue on this course, we'll die. Either someone will finish the job from Helios or we'll just fade away."
" But donchya worry about a second longer, 'cuase ya got a friend in me! "
"Thanks ED-E," I chuckled, "I couldn't have said it better myself. V, if this really matters to you, then I'll help you find your answers."
"Me too. Not much good on all that philosophy and shit, but I've seen my fair bit of weird and crazy. Ya got my vote on it."
"Granted, fuego mujer, you'll probably crash all her dreams doing so."
She turned to face him, her face impassive but she eventually shook her shoulders:
"Eh, yer probably right."
"Count me in."
Again the staring at Boone.
"What? Yeah, the Brotherhood's not exactly on my list of favorite people, but I gotta make up for my own sins."
Veronica looked like she was going to cry. I almost wanted to reach across and hug her, but I resisted the urge. ED-E however made up for it by floating over to her at an angle to where to she could hug him.
"Thank you. Thank all of you."
"I need to ask," Boone interrupted, "how are you not dead?"
"I don't understand."
"You took on a mutant and the worst you got was a bloody nose. How?"
"Oh," she replied almost embarrassingly, which she quickly replaced with a mischievous grin, "well before I left I… well, borrowed a little something they were working on in the lab."
Before any of us could so much as breathe, the burlap robe hit the floor and we're completely stupefied by what we saw (no not that, perverts). She was wearing a suit. A really high tech looking suit.
"What the hell?" Cass chimed. Veronica grinned.
"Don't tell anybody that I have this. Lorenzo would totally blow a gasket."
"Well what is it?"
"This is a prototype survival suit built by the Army from way back when for Special Forces being airdropped into China. We found it about thirty years ago and the boys down in the lab managed to get the thing into working order. And now it's mine."
This survival suit is a little hard to explain so bear with me. The actual base layer of this thing was a SCUBA looking one-piece pull on in all black fabric with a set of three interconnecting metal chest pieces. Wait a second. That's not fabric.
"Veronica, hold still."
"Oh go ahead. You got the right idea."
I drew my .45 on her leg.
"Whoa Gideon," Cass and just about everybody else in the room tried to stop me, "the hell are you doing!?"
"It's okay Cass," reassured Veronica, "but Gideon, please aim a bit higher. I have a little less cushioning in my limbs."
So I aimed at her chest.
"You may wanna cover your ears," and just before I took the shot I took my own advice. I fired at her stomach, and the expected happen. The .45 knocked her down to the floor, but when she got up she was perfectly fine. And in her fingers was the smashed remains of the slug.
"I knew it. Ballistic Weave."
She smiled.
"Ballistic weave mixed in with reactive titanium and ceramic absorbents, plus a lot of jell cushioning."
"So yer tellin' us you're bulletproof?"
"Close enough. The suit is made with about 12 different layers of the stuff all sewn together in a honeycomb pattern. It can stop up to most small arms, plus a fair share of energy and shrapnel."
"Most?" Boone asked. She gestured to his hunting rifle.
"That however will go right through. There's only so much you can squeeze into it."
"But it doesn't restrict your movements at all," Neil commented, "and I'm assuming those are strength enhanced exo-skeletal hydraulic limbs."
"You know your tech."
"I know my Power Armor."
What they were talking about were the skeleton looking pressure rigs attached to her legs and arms. Think metal robot limbs attached to her already existing limbs and that's the general idea. However, spaced in and around these metal parts were tons of wires. Some connected clearly to her gloves at the knuckles and palms, or down to the soles of her boots, while the rest however ran up and along her body to something on her back.
"So wait," Cass interrupted, "yer talking about what, like portable power armor?"
"Miss Cassidy, you may move up to the front row because you've just been promoted. Yeah the idea is that it can still give me the needed umph if you will without making me seem like a giant robot seen from a hundred miles away. The original inventers however couldn't figure out to make it smaller though."
"Yet you figured it out?" Neil asked.
"Thank the Enclave. They figured out the first step with something similar, we just finished the rest."
"Si, but if I remember correctly Power Armor frames require an entire fusion core along with a damn engine strapped to your back. What, you went with a smaller battery too?"
"Again, thank the Enclave, granted it's a one of a kind."
With that she turned to show us her back. Beside the gracious view she gave us of her ungodly well mannered curves, we also saw that the arm portion connect to what seemed like a support rig basically shaped like a pair of shoulder blades. Those along with the legs were connected via large black power cables to a flat metal box on her lower back. Which of course had the radiation symbol printed on it.
"Okay so a light power armor frame with a bullet proof suit," Cass summarized than added, "so just how strong are you with this tin can?"
"Allow me to demonstrate."
She left and we followed. Outside there was a beaten up old motorcycle wreck sitting out of nowhere. Veronica set herself to her knees and then lifted the damn thing over her head strong man style!
"Cristo, that weighs an easy 330 Kilos."
"Uh what's a kilo?"
"Mexico used the Metric System," Veronica answered, all while still holding up the damn motorcycle "totally different measuring system than what we used. The First French Republic came up with it back in 1799, and most of the world ended up using it too. Of course, not the US of A. It's based around measures of ten and…"
"What does it translate to?"
"Oh sorry. Uh let me do some math here… add the five, multiply the 2 and… yeah, about 728 pounds. Granted I'm rounding up of course."
"Damn girl," Cass laughed, "you did all that talkin' while holdin' a half ton? Just how much shit can you carry?"
"Never tested it per say. Right now, this isn't like really, really heavy, but I can still feel the weight in my shoulders. Maybe a thousand pounds or so?"
"Okay, I need to ask the obvious, then," I knew I was going to get shit for this but I need to know, "when you and me sparred, just how much were you holding back?"
"Do you want numbers or just plain answers?"
"Both… I guess?"
"Okay. An average boxer can punch with about 900lbs of force. Full strength I can punch about three or four times harder than that. Meaning that if I hit you, say in your arm not holding back? I could probably shatter it to pieces, if it didn't get torn off by the force and pressure and sent flying."
Jesus. She barely hit me with anything.
"Don't be upset, Gideon," she smiled at me, "after all, I'm wearing a suit of armor that y'know lets me hold this thing," she gestured with the motorcycle, "while I give you a lecture of sorts."
"Ah don't cry whittle wabbit," Cass mocked from behind my back. I turned and gave her my best kill-you-with-my-single-pissed-little-eye glare that could I manage.
"Shut up," I replied softly and then I turned back to Veronica.
"Okay Iron Maiden," I challenged, "what other good toys do you have?"
"Well how about this?"
She carefully set the motorcycle down and then hit a button on her collar; causing a helmet to form around her head! It was generally shaped like any other ballistic helmet, except for the flat line shaped visor and the regulator connected down where the mouth was, and along with the round shaped audio receivers and transmitters. What? I know my helmets not my techno-suits.
"Cool, huh?" Her voice was being muffled through a radio, "it forms from individual pieces on my back and connects together. It comes with multiple vision strobes and an air regulator with a thirty minute supply. I also have a water re-filtering system set along the inside of my suit."
"Wait, so you drink your own piss?"
"Piss and sweat. Don't worry, it's all purified and de-salivated so it doesn't taste like anything."
"What about numero dos?"
"Eh, no. I'm not quite sure that work all that well. Lastly, the suit also contains an auto injection system just in case of emergencies."
"What, like Rad-X?"
"And Morphine too. And also there's this."
This I didn't need to be told what it was. On top of everything else she had a damn Power Fist.
"Jesus, Girlie," Cass exclaimed, "yer a fricking walking arsenal of death."
"That's the idea."
"But I'm guessing the suit doesn't do that well against sharp impact," Boone remarked, "a general rule of Kevlar is that they do shit against a well placed knife."
"Unfortunately yes. But between the choice of being semi-bullet proof or shank proof, the choice is fairly obvious."
"I'll keep that in mind."
She then hit the button again, and the helmet came apart, sliding down her back again. When went back inside, she redressed into her now understandable burlap robe and slumped right back down into her chair with an almost childlike expression on her face. I shook my head.
"Well thanks for the demonstration, but I need to borrow the power chair."
She nodded and we traded seats. After about a minute, I made my peace:
"Look, you all know why I'm here. So I'm going to make this very simple. If you want out, then this is your getting-off point. If not, then you all need to understand that I'm going to see this through, no matter the proverbial bullshit Karma decides to send our way. And if you do come, then I expect you to watch mine and each other's backs. We clear?"
They all took a second, but they eventually all nodded.
"And if you have any other unresolved drama with each other, then now's the time to get it off your chests."
A steady silence until Raul broke it with his nonsense.
"I hate you all, Veronica reminds me of my sister and you jefe remind me of the mierda cara who stole my girlfriend way back in 2073."
I chuckled softly.
"Thanks for the nonsense."
"De nada."
"Neil, any chance you might need a ride?"
He shook his head.
"Doubtless more Super Mutants heard Tabitha's broadcast. I need to stay here and divert them elsewhere."
"I understand."
About an hour later, we were finally on the road. We loaded up the last of our gear, snuggled in, said our goodbyes to the sole resident of this here mountain and started our way down. The first thing that hit us was the sheer destruction that Neil had caused last night. Where once a village built out of the remains of adobe houses and a fallen satellite dish stood; now replaced by three very large holes of smoldering ash and smoke. Already as we drove by the air was chocked with it, making my Geiger Counter built into the Pip-Boy beep madly.
Suffice to say I hightailed it out of there.
"Lo aunque ande en Valle de Sombra de Muerte, no voy temo ningún mal," Raul whispered softly. I concur.
"Could it have killed them to build a straight road down the mountain instead of this serpentine shit?" Cass grumbled. I shook my head.
"They nuked the world, remember?"
"Touché."
"So you ever been to Vegas?" I heard Veronica asked. Raul laughed.
"Lo que me? Si, but I kept getting so lucky at cards that eventually they took me outside and said to me, 'listen, you're too awesome for us,' and of course there were the women…"
"This should be good," Boone replied.
"Oh trust me, mi amigo de mandíbula de cincel, these were damas of high stature and allure! They could never get enough of me! I could even hear them whisper 'that handsome Mexicano Ghoul is looking at us, oh I should've brought a better dress!' And of course being the caballero that I was, I challenge their novios to a duel of pistolas!"
"Let me guess," I called back, "they shot you, left you in a ditch and after a couple of days you crawled out?"
"What? No senior. I am too good for that! I dodged their bullets and then shot their pistolas out of their hands. And then I said to each of them 'do you feel lucky punks?'"
"And what happened then?" Veronica asked excitedly. I admit, I wanted to hear where this was going.
"Oh they begged, seniora. They plead for their lives. To shut them up, I said 'give me your women, your children, your caps, all of your fancy houses, that little pony I see you riding everywhere and of course your clothes. Yes give me your clothes too!'"
" Whata straight up fiber! "
There was a sudden silence at ED-E's response. That was broken when we all started laughing. Hell even ED-E started laughing! Then there was a loud clank and something fell off the back of the Rover.
"We got a runaway tire!"
"Son of a…"
I hit the brakes, and jumped out of the Rover. Cass followed suit.
"Boone you're with us. V, Raul and ED-E stay in the vehicle."
Veronica
As the three of them went out of sight, I let my head slump against the seat. I had slept fairly well last night, but damn I still felt fairly tired. Maybe I should just… what's Raul doing?
"Hey Raul, what's up?"
He was leaning over the door and looking out the window.
"Uh, Veronica? Tell me this isn't what I think it is?"
Annoyed, I scooted over to look out the window. When I did, my stomach dropped. A giant three toed foot print, half filled with muddy water. I hit my helmet and brought up night-vision. As I guessed, the tracks led downhill.
"How far away are we from that Quarry by Sloan?"
"Not far enough apparently."
Gideon
It took a solid couple of minutes or so but we eventually caught the damn tire. As me and Boone started to heft, we felt the ground tremble.
"Was that a quake?"
It trembled again.
"I don't think so."
Then it trembled again.
Veronica
"Did you feel that?"
The water shook in the paw print.
"Mierda. That was an impact tremor."
"I'm fairly alarmed here."
Translation
Latin
Mea veta, non tamen est perfecta
My vision, is not yet completed
Iratus est fortitudo mea
My pain gives me strength
Iaciebantur ab confortabitur
Learn from confrontation
peccatum
weakness
Imperium sanguinem lapidibus
Empire of blood and ruin
Casum superbiae vocet
The fate of the prideful
Spanish
Porque te engendro mecánico! Te rompo en pedazos! Lo hare—gah! Oh Jesús Cristo!
I will destroy you, you accursed engine! I will tear you to pieces! I will-gah! Oh Jesus Christ!
vomito mi intestinos en usted
vomit my intestines on you
asqueroso mierda
disgusting shit
mi pudriendo culo
my rotting ass
Lo juro suave la piel
I swear smoot skin
la piel verde
The greenskins
No me mierda que
I shit you not
impios bastardo monstruno nino del infierno
ungodly monstrous bastard child of Hell
La mujer que pueden crecer hasta la muerte con viejo te parte
The woman you can grow old with
golpeo en la Cabeza?
hit it on the head?
Un caballero
A gentleman
A la mierda no
Fuck no
Lo aunque ande en Valle de Sombra de Muerte, no voy temo ningún mal
Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I'm shall fear no evil
mi amigo de mandíbula de cancel
my chisel jawed friend
