"Good morning, General Oliver!"
"Shut the fuck up."
"The weather is a balmy 98 degrees without a cloud in the sky! Wonderful day to get out and have picnic with the missus!"
"I said shut the fuck up."
"Well ok then! Guess I won't tell you your release has been negotiated!"
"About fucking time."
"I couldn't agree more!"
.
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Mobilization in the arid climate of the Mojave remains the chief concern in the development of appropriate combat loads for the rank and file soldiers of the United Mojave. While the majority of individuals of the area are well adjusted to the heat, strenuous movement with the necessary equipment for combat over long periods of time will lead to severe problems. During the hottest hours of the day, it is best to seek shelter from the sun, but in a combat scenario, that will not always be an option. Anything able to mitigate the dangers of overheating will allow the soldiers of the Mojave to carry more equipment on their person as well as increase their personal ability during-
"Veronica."
The former scribe twitched in surprise as her name snapped her attention from the terminal in front of her. She looked around her room for a moment before realizing the Courier's voice had come through a speaker. "Yes? What's up?"
"There's a Legion force moving into the Mojave from the south. Would you mind coming up to the observation room?" the Courier asked.
"How many of them?"
"A fairly substantial number, all things considered. Sooner rather than later would be appreciated."
"On my way."
Veronica pushed away from her desk and moved out of the room, apprehension building in the pit of her stomach.
.
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"Don't you have eyebots who can do reconnaissance?" Boone's asked, his voice muffled by a heavy metal door.
Veronica entered the observation room and found Cass, Boone and the Courier standing over a large table with a digitally recreated map of the Mojave projected upon it.
"I've sent two, but somehow the Legion has been disabling them. Until I can ascertain how they are doing so, I am unwilling to risk loosing additional eyebots," Denn replied.
Veronica moved to stand beside Cass and nodded to her. The redhead returned the gesture, worry creasing her eyebrows as she smiled at the former scribe.
"So we're looking at anywhere from six to seven hundred Legionaires moving on Novac."
"Potentially, yes. I sent Securitrons from the Mojave Outpost to reinforce the ones there and to Primm as well, but if my hypothesis on how they are disabling the eyebots is correct, they might not be enough."
"The Legion could try to go behind Primm towards the correctional facility," Veronica interjected, tracing a line across the table creating a series of red dots leading North. "You've got the remainder of the Fiends set up there. The Legion might look to boost their numbers."
The Courier nodded his agreement. "That's a possibility. If the Legion reach the facility, it's probable they would outfit the Fiends and set them loose on the Mojave. While I move to keep the communities safe, the Fiends would in turn run rampant, and if chaos hits the area, the NCR will realize that my forces are not as numerous as they thought and make a move themselves. As such, I will be taking direct action. Boone, Cass, you will be serving as recon. Veronica will remain at the Lucky 38 on standby to provide tactical support."
"I'm healed up enough for another fight," Veronica stated.
"Be that as it may, I need somebody to remain at the Lucky 38 in case this is an attempt at misdirection. If another attack happens elsewhere, I need somebody ready to react. You're that person."
"Really think that's gonna happen?" Cass asked.
"I didn't think the Legion could recover this quickly. I'd prefer to take as few chances as possible moving forward."
"So what's the plan?"
"I've been preparing modified Entrant platforms to fight against the Legion. I had hoped to test them more extensively, but there isn't enough time."
"Entrants? You mean those guys you have walking around the Lucky 38? Not exactly combat ready from what I can see..."
"Also, won't whatever they're doing to disable your eyebots also disable them?" Veronica asked.
"Only briefly. They are nowhere near as complex as other platforms, and are designed with shielded systems. As to their combat capabilities... Report from Novac, there are sounds of conflict from the South. It appears the Legion are moving through Deathclaw territory."
"Why?" Boone asked. "There's plenty of clearer paths towards-"
"It appears that their target is the REPCON test site. We're leaving."
"What's at REPCON?"
"My Eyebot production line."
"Does the Legion know that?"
"Given the risk they are taking to go straight there... probably."
"How?"
"Many possible explanations - none of them good. Daisy is on her way - be ready to liftoff in ten minutes."
.
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The deathclaw drove it's hand down towards the prone Legionaire, ramming its claws through his chest and into the ground below. The soldier screamed and hacked uselessly at the creature as his lifeblood seeped into the dirt. Distracted by the dying Legion soldier, the deathclaw didn't notice a distorted shadow closing on it until a blade with an edge of blue energy materialized and detached its roaring head from its shoulders. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as dancing sparks rippled up the blade and revealed a figure adorned in reflective plates of ebony colored armor.
The Legion soldier, still pinned to the ground by the now-headless deathclaw reached towards the figure and desperately tried to form the words to plead for salvation. Instead of words, only blood passed his lips, and as he died the figure stalked away as it once again became enveloped by shadows.
Nearby, another Legion soldier danced away from a limping deathclaw. Naked from the waist up with dark red tattoos covering his chest and back, the soldier gripped a spear tightly with one hand and jabbed it towards the deathclaw, enticing it forward. The tattooed soldier's dance caused him to bump into a Legionaire, and without a moment's hesitation, he shoved his ally towards the deathclaw. The Legionaire's cry of surprise ended abruptly as the deathclaw pulled his body in two, and as the pieces of the corpse fell to the ground, the tattooed soldier leaped forward and drove his spear into the left eye of the deathclaw.
As the deathclaw reared backwards in agony the roar of gunfire ripped through the night and a fusillade of bullets tore into it. In seconds the creature's torso was turned into a meaty pulp as it stumbled backwards.
The tattooed soldier crossed his arms and smiled at the deathclaw, waiting until the fusillade ceased to turn towards its source.
"I think that was a waste of ammunition!" the tattooed soldier quipped, scratching the side of his nose and grinning at the enormous minigun and its equally enormous wielder.
"This is not a game, Catenatus," the newcomer stated as he marched forward and lifted the tattooed soldier into the air with a single hand. "And if you feed any more of my soldiers to these creatura... I will end you myself."
Catenatus jabbed a pointed hand into the seam of the Centurion's armor, robbing the grip on his neck of its strength and allowing him to drop lightly to the ground. "They're all dead anyway, Magnus," Catenatus stated as he danced away from the Centurion's reach. "What's wrong with an early sacrifice if it makes my fight a little easier?"
A furious bellow interrupted their argument as the largest deathclaw either of them had ever seen dropped from the canyon walls fifty meters away and began to charge forwards.
"Besides," Catenatus continued lazily as he yanked his spear from the fallen deathclaw, "I think you still have need of me."
Magnus grunted as his minigun began to whirl to life, but before he could bring the weapon to bear, the air in front of the charging deathclaw rippled and a glowing blade drove itself up and into the creature's open mouth. As the blade pierced the deathclaw's skull, the charging monstrosity's momentum forced it forward onto the vicious edge. By the time the mass of muscle and sinew came to a halt, the glowing blade had completely bisected the deathclaw's neck and embedded itself in its chest.
Slowly the shadows pulled thesmelves from the wielder of the blade and with a single movement, it pulled its weapon free of the corpse and sheathed it at its side.
"Obstructions cleared," the figure stated hollowly. "We will proceed to the objective." Without waiting for a response, it began to walk down the canyon.
"Their deaths are for a good cause, Magnus!" Catenatus quipped, spinning his spear lazily. "Or... they should be, if Caesar really is your god."
"I will see you crucified for your heresy, Catenatus," Magnus swore, moving towards the smaller man.
"Why wait?" Catenatus asked, spreading his arms wide and bowing towards his counterpart as he backed away. "I am sure your Legionaires could handle my Velites, and the pride of your Legion demands my silence. Strike now, Soldier of the 87th Tribe, and doom whatever petty revenge you risk your men's lives for."
"I will have your silence," Magnus growled, dropping his minigun and unsheathing a wickedly-edged machete from his side.
"Then you'll have to take my tongue," Catenatus retorted, dropping into a lazy stance and grinning madly.
The tattooed soldier felt a faint buzzing in the air and twitched backwards reflexively. His heightened senses saved him the full force of the blow that slammed into his side, but the impact still drove him from his feet and sent him sprawling to the ground.
Magnus was not so aware, and with a brtual retort of metal striking metal, the Centurion was sent flying backwards through the air to slam against the canyon wall.
Catenatus hissed and raised his spear to stab at the air above him, but a blade with an edge of blue energy appeared and cut through the shaft of the weapon. Before the tattooed soldier could react, the severed end of his spear was seized in an unseen grip and spun back towards him, its sharpened point pressing against the nape of his neck. A shallow line of blood began to run down his chest.
"We were just talking, madre," Catenatus declared as the ebony armored figure appeared above him. "A minor disagreement on the-"
The point of the spear pressed deeper into Catenatus's neck, silencing him.
"You will cease your efforts to antagonize your ally or I will remove you," the figure stated, it's voice devoid of emotions.
"Then remove me, madre," Catenatus goaded, leaning forward and pushing the spear deeper into his neck. "Do it. I would, and I know me better than you do."
The roar of a vertibird echoed in the distance. Slowly, the armored figure turned in the direction of the interruption and seemed to tilt its head in thought. Abruptly, it pulled the spear tip back and embedded it into the earth beside Catenatus's head.
"We will proceed to the objective," the figure stated.
"After you, madre," Catenatus replied, leaning forward and grinning at Magnus as the Centurion glowered at him and followed after the departing figure. A hand appeared before Catenatus and he used it to pull himself up.
"How did we do?" the tattooed soldier asked, switching from the common tongue of the Legion to the language of his original tribe.
The Velite beside him bared his teeth in a canted grin and responded in the same language. "We fed Magnus' Legionaires to the deathclaws like you ordered. The lion's share of our losses were his loyalists."
"How many?"
"More than a hundred. The creatura were hungry."
"That is good," Catenatus declared through his own canted smile as he stared after Magnus, eyes brimming with unrestrained hatred. "That is good."