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October 23rd, 2281, 10:15 a.m.
There were close to three hundred of them, by the Courier's count. The slaves of the Legion. They met Denn's gaze in silence, standing to the side of Caesar's tent. Clothed in tattered garments with red crosses painted across their chests, these women and children had served as the backbone of Caesar's Legion, supplying his army with food, medical care, and even more soldiers.
Yet, there were only three hundred standing by their master's tent. Keeping the Legion combat ready would have taken thousands more. The rest must have perished in his bombing of the Fort and the Legate's camp.
Eight thousand Legionaries, and how many innocents? Just how many people did you murder today?
"Wait here," the Courier ordered, detaching the cable from his Pip-Boy and letting it slide back into the Securitron that was escorting him. Moving forward, he lifted the flap of Caesar's tent to the side and glanced into the structure. The center courtyard was open to the sun, but the side alcoves of the makeshift building were covered in darkness. A lone man was kneeling before Caesar's empty throne.
As he held the entry open, he felt more than heard a presence slip past him. He smiled – Lily was still keeping an eye on him.
Silently, the Courier moved into the tent and approached Caesar's throne and the man kneeling before it. Stepping into the courtyard, he crossed his arms behind his back and waited.
"You were always a tool to him," the stooped man declared, wearily pushing up from the ground and standing. "A hammer or a blade, depending on the situation, but never more than that." The man turned to face the Courier, his eyes dark. "Would that he had listened to my council and fed you to the dogs the moment you came before him."
"He would still be dead," Denn said, his voice cold.
"His death is his victory!"
"The victory of fading away in his bed while his army burned?"
"Caesar yet lives!"
"Oh, he does? As what? A god? Or does he live in the hearts of his soldiers? Most did not die with the pride of Caesar in their hearts, but terror. Caesar is gone, whether you accept it or not."
"He is infinitely more than you will ever-"
"How much did he cry, Lucius? When the time came and his mind crumbled, how much did he weep? Did you muffle his cries as best you could to keep his weakness from being discovered? How far did you go to preserve the strength of your god? Did you kill him yourself to keep his whimpers-"
"Enough!" Lucius screamed, charging the Courier.
Uncrossing his arms from behind him, Denn revealed an intricately carved 9mm pistol resting in his right hand. Almost lazily, the Courier fired the gun twice, sending one bullet into the center of Lucius' neck and the other through his jaw. The leader of the Praetorians fell the ground, clutching his devastated face. The shadows of the camp exploded with four Legionaries who followed their leader's example and charged the seemingly alone Courier.
Another two shells ripped into separate Legionaries' knees and forced them to the ground, but the remaining two leaped at their target in unison, their machetes swinging down ferociously.
Lily materialized between the Legion soldiers and the Courier with a burst of static and a rush of white energy. Seizing the two Legionaries before they could react, she effortlessly slammed them into one another, letting them fall dazedly to the ground.
Reloading his firearm, the Courier moved past Lily to stand above Lucius. The Praetorian leader clutched his neck, desperately trying to stem the flow of his lifeblood. With eyes full of hate, the last remaining Legion commander stared up at his attacker.
"Benny says hi," Denn said humorlessly, before emptying his firearm into Lucius' skull. The corpse fell to the ground and silence fell upon the tent.
"They're just boys," Lily said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Courier turned, and saw the super mutant staring down at the two Legionaries. The soldiers, for their part, met her gaze with confusion and terror. Neither of them looked to be older than fourteen, and this was probably the first time they had encountered a super mutant.
"Most of Caesar's army was," Denn said quietly, turning his gaze over the maimed soldiers who had just attacked him. All four of them were young, probably still too immature to be considered full Legionaries, which would explain what they were doing here instead of on the battlefield – why they were in pain rather than corpses seared clean of flesh. Moving towards one of them, the Courier easily caught the young man's desperate swing and turned his weapon against him, holding it against the soldier's throat. "Tell me, what comes next?" Denn asked, his voice cold and detached.
The Legionary stared up at the Courier and set his lips together – his eyes growing defiant in what he thought where his final moments.
"Let me guess; I slit your throat and steal your soul to power my machines, while the remainder of your comrades serve to feed my insatiable appetite?"
The soldier refused to answer. Pushing him to the ground, the Courier shook his head and let the machete fall from his hand. "It was inevitable one day you would learn of mercy," he said quietly as the soldier looked up at him in confusion, "but it's a hollow lesson coming from me."
Denn shook his head, realizing he was talking more to himself than the Legion Soldier. "Get them out of here," he said to Lily, gesturing to the entrance of the tent. "See if the slaves they kept will care for them." Not waiting for a response, he cautiously stepped into Caesar's chamber.
Caesar lay still before him. His skin was pale and a smear of dried vomit stained his mouth and cheek. The stench of death permeated the small room.
Unceremoniously, Denn drew his machete and stepped forward. Swinging the weapon down, he severed Caesar's head from his body and picked it up by what little hair it held. The Courier stepped back into the courtyard just as Lily finished gently pushing the Legionaries out of the makeshift building.
Tossing the decapitated head onto the empty throne, Denn moved to one of the side alcoves of the tent. The Courier scanned the tables that were haphazardly covered with maps and written orders within the small side-room.
Inculta wasn't here. The Frumentarii had likely abandoned Lanius once Caesar had died, and would have most certainly disposed of anything important pertaining to tactical information on the Legion. Still, he had to make sure nothing had been left behind. The East was still powerful, even without Caesar. He had to keep the remainder of the Legion unstable.
Folding up the maps and collecting the loose papers, Denn wrapped them into a tight roll and secured the collection with a piece of string resting on the table. Stepping into the sunlight, the Courier scanned the sky until he located ED-E. Signaling the flying robot, he waited as the machine whirred down towards him, trilling happily as it did so.
Reaching up to ED-E's cargo compartment, the Courier slipped the maps and orders inside. "Take these back to the Lucky 38, ED-E. Make sure Gannon takes a look at them right away," Denn said. The robot whined and the Courier placed his hand reassuringly on the machine's chassis. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. The other eyebots will keep an eye on me."
ED-E trilled morosely, reluctant to take its leave of its companion, but it followed Denn's command and shot into the air, causing a wave of dust to billow around the Courier. Denn followed its flight as the boisterous robot disappeared into the empty blue sky.
As his gaze returned to the earth, a dull ache began to throb down his spine. The Courier shook his head, and the movement brought a pang of agony from his devastated mouth. The pain of his continued existence was beginning to resurface, and his supply of Med-X was exhausted.
The roar of a Vertibird erupted from outside of the tent as the Remnant airship rose quickly into the sky. Denn sighed and turned back to the throne, again picking up the decapitated skull. As he did so, the Vertibird passed directly overhead and blew a heavy cloth draped across the throne to the ground. As it fell, the Courier noticed a glint of metal fall with it.
Kneeling down to pick up the fabric, Denn shook out the material until a small, coin-shaped object dropped out of it and fell to the ground, stabbing into the dirt. Incredibly thin, the metal was featureless and completely smooth besides a small hook that had been used to latch it into the heavy cloth. Picking up the coin, the Courier was surprised by the weight of it. As he hefted the mysterious metal, the device suddenly glowed white hot, forcing Denn to drop it or be scorched. Burning away in a cloud of black smoke, the coin was gone in seconds; the burnt dirt the only sign that it had existed.
He and Inculta weren't the only ones invested in the future of the Legion, the Courier reminded himself as he stood, eyebrows creased in thought. Someone had outfitted the brutal army with technology – weapons rarely seen even in the relatively advanced NCR.
The weapons themselves weren't even useful against the NCR army stationed at the dam. The cannibalized power armor the Heavy Troopers used were the only viable target of pulse technology, and even they would only lose their cooling systems with the servos and hydraulics of the armor removed. Vertibirds were too valuable to the NCR to risk on frontline missions, and the supply trucks of the military were so rudimentary that pulse technology would be nothing but a hindrance.
No, the weapons were meant to be used against his Securitrons – and himself. Whoever had outfitted the Legion knew what he was, and now the Legion knew what he was.
How long until the NCR discovered it?
"Immaterial," the Courier whispered, hefting Caesar's head and moving to the tent's exit. He stepped through it and handed the Legion leader's skull to the Securitron that had escorted him earlier. Absentmindedly, Denn again pulled the cable out of the robot and attached it to his Pip-Boy. You have to tell your companions what you are, before they find out from somebody else.
"Courier," a voice said to his side.
Denn turned and saw two of the Legion slaves standing a few yards away. One was young with calloused hands and refused to meet the Courier's gaze. The other was older, with dark blonde hair stained with streaks of white. A pair of deep, identical scars ran up from the sides of chin up over her mouth, before ending at the corners of her eyes. The injuries were long healed, but seemed to be ritualistic in nature, rather than wounds of battle. She stared at the Courier unwaveringly, her dark green eyes boring into his own.
Denn's mouth opened unconsciously behind his rebreather as a weight settled into the pit of his stomach.
The older woman's eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed together tightly. After a moment of silence, she began to gesture purposefully with her hands, fluidly transitioning from sign to sign. As she did, the woman beside her began to speak, translating the many signs into spoken word.
"We have heard the stories – of what you are and what you are capable of. We have seen your machines and the fire they possess as our sisters and children perished in their attack. What will you do with us now, Courier?"
Denn took a moment to send a series of orders through the Eyebot network, using the distraction to collect himself. Finally, he cleared his throat and met the older woman's gaze. "Once the NCR have been removed from the Dam, you will be transferred there to care for the wounded until it is safe to move you to Freeside," the Courier began quietly. "The Followers of the Apocalypse have offered to help anybody displaced by the war, and that offer is extended to you."
The young woman remained silent as her older counterpart seemed to take in the Courier's words. Again, the woman began to shift her hands to form intricate symbols and the translator relayed their meaning to the Courier.
"If we refuse, will we be free to go?"
"I'm afraid that is impossible. Until the Legion is incapable of doing the Mojave harm, I cannot risk the chance that you would be captured and reveal important tactical information."
"We would never allow ourselves to be taken again – we will never return to the Legion."
"Can you guarantee they would take none of you alive?"
"No."
"Then I cannot allow it."
"So we are your prisoners?"
"Unfortunately, that is an apt description. The Followers will care for you, but you will not be free."
"We will not trade one master for another."
Denn fell silent, his gaze falling on the group of slaves behind the two women. He spotted movement behind one slave's legs, and saw a small girl peak around them, a frayed teddy bear clenched tightly to her torso. The child realized she had been spotted, and darted back behind the older slave. The Courier smiled sadly behind his rebreather.
"You know little of who I am," he said finally, locking his eyes with those of the older woman, "and I lack the time to prove to you the sincerity of my words, but know this: I will never treat you as Caesar treated you. Within the Mojave, you will be free to do as you will, and I will do everything in my power to keep harm from befalling you. I have a debt to the innocents I killed in my attack – your sisters and children. I will do anything to see that dept repaid.
"I cannot promise you the Mojave will be perfect; I cannot promise that none of you will be hurt, but I can promise you that you are under my protection now. I will bleed – and die if I must – to keep you safe."
The younger slave glanced up at the Courier, her eyes wide, before returning her gaze to the older woman's hands. The elder nodded silently, her shoulder's slouched wearily, and began to sign.
"Many have died today, but the lives they lived were half what they should have been. You promise to protect us? Then promise to let us choose how we will live."
"For what worth it has to you, you have my word," Denn said quietly, bowing to the older woman.
She nodded in response, and turned back to the group of slaves.
"A moment?" the Courier asked loudly, causing the woman to stop and face him. "What is your name?"
The translator glanced up from the older woman's hands to her face. The woman returned her gaze and nodded.
"Mira," the translator said.
Denn's eyebrows creased, and he looked to the dirt as if searching for the right words. "You are Ursus' mother," he stated finally, looking back up at Mira.
The older woman glanced at her translator, and Denn saw a flash of hope behind her eyes. Her hand formed a fist and made a slight rocking motion, up and down.
"Yes," the translator said.
Denn shook his head, and he as he did, saw the hope disappear from her eyes. "He's dead," he said quietly.
Mira's eyes shot to the dirt and her back straightened as if she had been struck. Her hands made a single, curt motion.
"How?"
"By my hands, within the Dam," Denn answered truthfully.
The older woman's eyes met his and the Courier could all but feel the rage that was carried through her expression. The anger dissipated almost immediately, replaced by gated indifference. Forcefully, her hands raced through the air.
"Take me to him."
"The NCR are still…"
"No. Take me to him, now."
"As you will," the Courier relented; waiting as the translator quickly ran to the group of slaves and talked to them earnestly for a moment. Finishing relating what had transpired, she ran back to the Courier and the older woman. Denn nodded, and gestured for the two women to follow after him and his Securitron escort.
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The blood had long since dried, painting the metal wall with a rusted sheen. Her son – her last surviving family – lay before her in pieces. Mira sat on her heels, one hand resting on her deceased son's thigh. Her eyes were locked onto his face, looking past the vicious shrapnel wounds to the man she knew rested there.
"I'm sorry," a voice said behind her, and she shook her head. Releasing her son's leg, she gestured though the air helplessly.
"Not your fault," the translator said, the young woman acting as her spoken voice. "I refused to believe you could defeat Caesar's army. The man was dying. With his death the Legion would have lasted a few short years, then fallen. We could have escaped.
"I did not listen to my son when he spoke of you," the woman continued, signing as tears began to fall from her eyes. "I couldn't believe you were real. I had lost everything to Caesar; I wasn't ready to lose my son to you. I told him to fight, to win. Let Lanius have his victory so we could at last be free the Legion.
"It was finally working. He was finally dying – years of work, years of sacrifice. Every night he took me, I hid a radiation generator within my clothes, and as he rested, I activated it. I…" the translator stuttered, her eyes growing wide as her mouth fell open in surprise. She shook her head and talked quickly as she caught up with the kneeling woman's signing. "I killed him. I killed Caesar. He took my husband, my sons, and my body from me, but I had my revenge. I was so close to succeeding; I could see no other path. I did not listen…"
The interpreter fell quiet as the older woman stopped signing – stopped moving entirely. The young woman glanced at the Courier before resting a hand on Mira's shoulder.
Denn felt another hand mirror the translator's as Lily provided the Courier with silent support from behind. He wanted to say something, anything. He was a good man. Without him, I wouldn't be alive. He loved you. Anything he said would just make the pain worse, however. Ursus had died fighting for what he believed in. Not his master, not his nation, but his mother.
He died fighting for her. I killed him for fighting for her, the Courier thought helplessly.
You killed him for fighting for Caesar, a cold voice responded from within. Whatever his mother's intentions, had Ursus been victorious, hundreds of thousands could have been killed in his campaign. The Mojave would be under Lanius' heel, and the rest of your friends would be dead. You had no choice.
One life I know for the thousands I don't?
In the end, it was his choice. It's not your fault anymore than it was his, or hers. We all choose how we live, and how we die. She chose to sacrifice thousands for her son, was that decision wrong?
The Courier shook his head and sighed, turning out of Lily's grasp to walk out of the room. Heading for the Dam's exit, Denn mentally prepared himself for the journey to Camp McCarran. It was his choice to become the Mojave's protector, and only a few more factions stood in his way.
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10:54 a.m. HELIOS One, 22 miles Southwest of Hoover Dam
"Commander Hardin!"
"What is it, Sato?"
"NCR reinforcements spotted, approaching from the North."
"How many?"
Sato shook his head as if he had difficulty expressing himself.
"How many, Paladin?"
"Sir! It appears to be the entirety of the vehicles stationed at Hoover Dam and Boulder City, sir!"
Hardin blanched, the color draining from his face hidden as it was behind his helmet. The NCR were supposed to be stretched impossibly thin, even with the Courier's help. To mobilize their entire mechanized detachment to retake HELIOS One so quickly was…
"There's more, sir," Sato said quietly. "Securitrons are escorting them. They're still far away, but the scouts estimate the machine's number to exceed three hundred."
"Get the Scribes and the Knights out of here," Hardin ordered, turning away from Sato to face the Paladins who served as his Captains. "We'll cover their escape. I won't let this become another Operation Sunburst. No laying traps. We are leaving as fast as we came in here."
"Sir," one of the Paladins said, gated anger apparent in his voice. "It was your idea to take this plant."
"And we did, and once the Courier stretches his forces too thin, we'll take it again. We could hold against the NCR, but those Securitrons would roll right up to us and turn our forces into ash. We don't have the fortifications prepared to face them."
"So we turn tail and run?"
"You are dismissed, Paladin. Go with the Knights and Scribes to the bunker, and if you give me any more lip, I will strike you from the codex myself."
"Sir, apologies, sir!"
"Good. Now, let's get our people out of here."
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Vault 19, 20 miles Southwest of New Vegas
"Son of a bitch… he actually did it…"
"So what's the plan, boss? We takin' him up on his offer… or do we get goin' while the goin's good?"
"I'm inclined to side with the man. He just did more damage to the NCR than I could have done with a thousand kegs of dynamite. As for what he wants… he's already provided us with the ordinance and if we don't fuck up, we'll be set for life."
"We'd be set for life if we sell off those mines he gave us… to say nothing of the napalm."
"Who would buy 'em? We go walking around the wasteland with all that technology and we'd never find a caravan not associated with the NCR that could afford 'em. Assuming the Brotherhood doesn't find us first and strip 'em off our corpses. A gold mine is only good if somebody who likes you can afford the gold."
"So we play nice and do the Courier's dirty work?"
"You saw what he did to the guys at the correctional facility. As of today, my days of being a raider are over. We're taking him up on the deal."
"Looks like we're company men now."
"Damn right. Maybe we'll get a chance to say hello to Old Lem."
"Bastard better pray we don't find him…"
"I'm sure he's long gone. Now, go lay those mines where the Courier told us. Make sure to spread 'em out – no need to overlap those bad-boys."
"Sure, you keep your hands away from the trigger, alright?"
"Just get it done."
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And that's the last of the buffer! No more scheduled updates for now... life is getting in the way a bit. When things calm down I'll do my best to get out one chapter a week again. Thank you for reading!