Mutatis Mutandis 7

Jason was surprised to find a couple of surly-looking Talon Company mercenaries guarding the door to the Great Hall, which served as the Brotherhood's briefing room. They were locked in a silent glaring contest with an equal number of Brotherhood soldiers. To Jason's knowledge, the two factions had never gotten along up until that point. But things had changed recently. The Talon Company had undergone a major shift in management and oddly enough, though they had always been a thorn in his side, they had probably become the faction Jason could rely on the most, aside from the Brotherhood itself. If the two of them could find a way to work together, it could only mean good things for the wasteland.

As he stood listening, the rather heated negotiations began to seep through the closed door.

"Look, I have mouths to feed and mercs to arm. You want us to take up the slack, the Talon Company is going to need more than an IOU." Said a familiar voice.

"We are not prepared to give away our old materials. The T-51B power armour is not meant for-"

"For what? Mercs like me? Simple wasters? It wasn't so holy you couldn't see fit to upgrade. You have all this new gear and we're still trying to get by using pea shooters. I want your old stuff, training for my boys, and free access to Aqua Pura whenever we want it."

"Power-armour training is non-negotiable."

"You're damned right it is."

"That's not what I meant!"

Jason opened the door to the briefing room. A pair of haggard Brotherhood soldiers were seated to his left. Star-paladin Glade and Paladin Tristan, both of whom were honorable men. Jason had worked with them before and privately held them in quite high esteem.

A middle-aged man was sitting opposite them. Bristly, graying stubble covered his scarred chin. His wiry hair was somewhere between brown and grey, and he had the voice and bearing of a starved wolf, toughened with age. He was pinching a cigarette between thumb and forefinger, smoking it vivaciously. His black Talon Company armour had been repainted with white stars on the pauldrons, and beneath the claw logo on his chest. He gave Jason a nod in greeting. "Hey, Fletcher. Tell these boys to open their armory, would you? I've got things to do."

"Fletcher?" Tristan asked, frowning at Jason.

"Cover name." Jason grunted, grinning at Jackrum. "Good to see you, Sarge."

"Sarge?" Tristan and Glade exchanged confused glances. It occurred to Jason that moment that may have been the first time either of them had ever seen him smile.

"Commander." Jackrum corrected. "These guys want my boys running the Aqua Pura shipments. But they aren't giving me the gear I need to make it safe for us."

"We need that gear for training purposes." Tristan shot back angrily.

"Bullshit." The Talon Company commander let out a thick puff of smoke. "You're hording it because tech's what keeps you at the top. Don't think I don't get that. But you need manpower. And we need supplies. Nothing but simple. We're mercenaries; we don't work for free. And you need us. There's no point in wasting time here, boys."

"I agree." Glade said suddenly, staring hard at Jason. Paladin Tristan gave him a shocked look.

"About damned time." Jackrum replied, relieved.

Glade met Jason's gaze, searching him for any hints about Sarah. He had questions. That much was clear. And he couldn't answer them until he got out of this meeting. He had been the one who asked Jason to get Sarah out of the Citadel. The Star-Paladin had worked with her, mentored her since she was a child, and her well-being was of the utmost importance to him. Certainly more than dragging out negotiations for the sake of appearances. The Brotherhood was severely short-staffed. Jackrum held the cards, and all three of them knew it.

He looked to the Commander. "We can't offer you Power-Armour right now. It's heavy and we have no way to transport it in the numbers you need. But we can give you laser and plasma rifles along with ammunition for assault rifles and sniper rifles."

"And free Aqua Pura?" Jackrum pressed.

"When the purifier is producing fresh water at the rates it was before." Tristan said.

"And sanctuary for any Talon Company Merc at any brotherhood outpost." Jackrum added.

"Forget it-" The Paladin began.

"It's not unreasonable." Jason said, frowning. "They're doing you're work for you, after all. You offer it to regular wasters anyway."

"There, you see?" Jackrum grinned like a shark, gesturing at Jason. "Stamp of approval from the Lone Wanderer himself. Now you have to say 'yes'."

"I don't trust mercenaries. And supplying the Talon Company will be an extra drain on our resources." Tristan warned.

"Offset by the fact that we aren't losing as much equipment trying to get the water around." Glade said distractedly. "Are we done here?"

The other two negotiators ignored him.

"If you're worried about money, why don't you tax the water?" Jackrum asked.

"Absolutely not!" Jason responded heatedly. "That wasn't my father's dream. The water is free."

"Alright." Jackrum looked him up and down. "Say each settlement gets a free minimum. Enough to get by, but they have to charge for extra."

"And what?" Jason demanded, crossing his arms. "People in Tenpenny Tower get to shower in the stuff while Big Town's on a starvation diet? Absolutely not."

"You and your morals." Jackrum grumbled.

"Look who's talking." Jason shot back.

The merc grinned and rose to his feet. He confronted Tristan. "Look, son. I don't care what you think of me. But you're outvoted. I got one of your own-" He gestured at Glade, "And The Lone Wanderer on my side here. You want to keep watching your own friends dying or not? Let me and my boys do the heavy lifting."

Tristan opened and shut his mouth, glaring at the old veteran. "I don't trust mercenaries. You answer to nothing but money."

"This man was offered two-hundred and fifty-thousand caps to let me die." Jason said with a tone of finality. "He turned it down. I trust him."

Tristan gave up. He threw up his hands. "Fine! We'll send the weapons out tomorrow."

"I'll look forward to it." Jackrum said, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette. He strode past Jason, patting him on the shoulder as he sauntered by. "Drop by the fort sometime, kid. We'll crack open a beer, shoot the shit…"

"If I'm out that way." Jason replied. As the merc neared the door, Jason turned. "Jackrum?"

"Yeah?" the commander spun around.

"Two weeks ago." Jason intoned. "Northern mountains. Seven Talon Company mercenaries…?"

Jackrum shrugged. "The last of Jabsco's crew. I needed to clean house. You could handle it. You're the Lone fuckin' Wanderer, afterall…" he frowned slightly. "You got their gear?"

"Weapons and ammo."

"Drop it by the fort when you have a chance, would you?"

"Will do."

The merc was gone. Tristan and Glade stood in front of their chairs, uncertain as to what the next move was. Eventually Jason turned back to them. "Where is Elder Lyons?"

"Indisposed." Glade replied politely. "We're negotiating on his behalf. He hasn't been well. Not since Sarah…well…" he shrugged awkwardly. "…you know."

Jason nodded.

"Is she alright?" Glade asked as Tristan made his own way out, glaring at the pair of them.

"Better. Less screaming." Jason shrugged. "She needed a break."

"Where did you take her?"

"Her business. My business."

"Fair enough…" Glade said. The Star-Paladin waited patiently, but apparently that wasn't the end of the conversation, which was odd; it usually was whenever he spoke with the Lone Wanderer.

Instead Jason was watching him with a closed, but curious expression. "Would you trust her to watch your back in a firefight?" he asked.

"I'd… want to have her reevaluated first." Glade said. "But if she's better…"

"What about the rest of the Pride?"

"All two of them, you mean?" Glade asked. Jason detected hints of bitterness in the knight's tone. "Kodiak'll be glad to have her back. He just wants this whole thing over with. Dusk, on the other hand…"

Jason waited.

"She hasn't been the same since we lost Colvin. She blames Sarah. Hates you."

Jason crossed his arms. "I'll have to add another notch to my belt."

Glade ignored the mild jab. "And seeing Sarah come back in such a sorry state… you know, she wasn't the most skilled, but she was our leader. A damned good one. She certainly wasn't incompetent."

"Isn't." Jason corrected.

Glade stared at him. "Do you honestly believe the Sarah Lyons who left is the same one who came back?"

"The day they let me back into the vault, I knew I wasn't the same person who had left."

"Well maybe." The Star-Paladin replied. "But there's a world of difference between spending a few days in a swamp, searching for a G.E.C.K., and spending years of your life wandering the capital wasteland. She lost her team so easily…"

"You're right there." Jason said, chuckling darkly. "There is a difference. Several worlds' difference. And human beings don't belong in most of them."

"The hell does that mean?"

"It means she's been through more than me." Jason said. "I hope that statement has some impact. Have some patience with her. I know what it feels like to be the outcast."

"You don't seem to mind."

Jason's fingers twitched, but aside from that, he made no movement.

"I'm on her side." Glade continued. "Hell, of all the Pride I'm probably the one who cares about her the most. But if she isn't fit for duty…"

"She wants to be."

"It might not be her choice."

"So whose is it, then?"

"Well, her father's." glade said thoughtfully. "The Doctor's certainly. Mine too. I'll have a psych evaluation done. But she shouldn't expect this to be easy."

Jason stared at the man, running through his options. Assets and information. The doctor was Phantom, the Raider. He owed Jason a favor or two. Elder Lyons was a non-issue. The man loved his daughter, and was guilt-ridden over what Point lookout had done to her. It was his wish that she was the one who went. He would probably bend the rules to let her back in. Probably.

But Glade… The Star-Paladin's problem was that he didn't understand what Sarah had gone through. Neither did Jason, really, though he knew better than most. Glade also probably wouldn't trust her testimony. But there was another survivor of the Point lookout expedition. The only other survivor.

"Have you spoken to Rothchild yet?" he asked.

"Not yet. I've been busy training knights on how to use the new firearms." Glade shrugged. "I don't honestly talk to Scribes much. They're where the orders come from."

"Talk to him." Jason said. "Learn what you can before you judge Sarah."

"And you?"

"I've got to go visit Three-Dog."

As Jason made his way towards the door, Glade called out to him. "For the record, I'm glad she'd got you looking out for her."

He turned back. "Someone has to. And her own family isn't doing it."

Sarah caught up with Jason just beyond the inner gate of the Citadel. A rather pleasant view of the sparkling river and D.C. ruins was visible beyond the crack in the wall. It was as private a place as could be found within the Brotherhood's stronghold.

Perhaps 'caught up' was the wrong way to put it. She arrived there a few minutes earlier than he did, and sat on a chunk of concrete, watching the river and waiting silently for the door to open, which it eventually did.

Jason stepped through, adjusting the shoulder strap which held his scoped assault rifle in place. He spotted her immediately and came to a halt, a smile lighting up his new face. She had noticed the change before, but it had been secondary to other concerns. His hair aside, Jason looked like The Wanderer from the motivational posters. He hadn't been particularly ugly before he had been forced to disguise himself. But whomever had fixed him up had done so by working directly off of Three Dog's posters, and now… well now he looked like a grittier, less cartoonish version of Captain Cosmos. Complete with the strong, confidant jaw, the furrowed brow, and the piercing blue eyes.

It was a change she decided she could live with. And he was still more than able to put across that dangerous, brooding, predatory air when he wanted to.

"You talk to your father?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Good." He said, "How did it go?"

Sarah smiled. Nothing had actually been said. But she'd sat with him. Huddled up beside him the way she had when she was a child. "I think we're going to be okay."

"…And the Pride?"

"Not yet." She slid off her perch and approached him cautiously. "I wanted to talk to you first."

He frowned slightly. "Me?"

"Yeah." She took a deep breath. "You did a lot for me. Even though I shot you."

"I get better." He shrugged. "Perks of being the Wanderer. Besides, you saved me from Ashur. The least I could do was show some patience."

"I know. About that…" Sarah licked her lips nervously, examining him. "Do you remember the purifier?"

"Before I got blown up…" he nodded awkwardly. "And the date."

She smiled again, and was surprised to find that her action actually caused him to relax. "Do you think you could rustle up any more fresh potatoes and Brahmin steaks?" she asked.

"After we get all this sorted out and you're okay." He said. "Something to look forward to…"

Sarah stepped forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Jason seemed taken aback, but pleased. He gave he an awkward nod in thanks and set off again.

Sarah turned back to the citadel. It was time to m reacquaint herself with her old squad.

Sarah pushed open the door to the Lyons' Den. Glade was fully armoured and sitting at what was formerly her desk. Sarah felt a surge of anger and jealousy as she spotted the painted symbol on the pauldrons of his enclave hellfire armour; he was now in charge of the Lyons' Pride. Despite her reservations, she had to admit, he was an excellent choice. If she had to pick, she would have chosen him, but still. It had been her command. Her squad. For the millionth time, regret and anger over the entire Point Lookout incident overtook her. She had lost so much...

Dusk was sitting on her bunk, out of uniform and reading a copy of Nikola Tesla and You. Studying their new weapons and technology, no doubt. Kodiak was there too, dozing gently.

Glade was the first to notice, or perhaps the first to react. He turned and got to his feet, greeting her with a worried smile. "Sarah! I'm glad you're back! How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you." She answered.

At hearing her name, Kodiak perked up. She met his gaze and he gave her a noncommittal smile, clearly undecided about her new reputation. The problem was Dusk, who had only buried her nose further into the book. Sarah could still make out the woman's scowl.

"How are you, Dusk?"

"Fine." The woman said, her tone saturated in a particularly virulent hostility .

Sarah felt her spirits drop. The woman hated her. For Colvin, probably. Those two had always been…complicated.

"Dusk..." she began.

"Save it." The sniper snapped.

"Dusk!" Glade barked a warning, which the prone reader ignored, burying herself deeper in her book. Kodiak got to his feet and walked over to Sarah. In complete contrast to Dusk's coldness, and to both Sarah and Glade's surprise, he embraced her. Sarah wholeheartedly returned the gesture, trying to put as much of her unspoken relief into it as she could.

"Glad you're okay, Sentinel." He said, smiling.

"Star-Paladin." Sarah corrected.

"That's what your dad said, sure." Kodiak replied with a boyish grin. "Are you retaking command?"

"Ouch, Greg." Glade joked.

"Suck it up." The Paladin challenged, his tone equally as light. "Look, she's back, she's smiling…" he gave Sarah a gentle poke in the ribs. "She's not shooting anybody."

"You keep lipping off your squad commander and that remains to be seen" Sarah responded.

"And she's cracking jokes." Kodiak added. "Let's get her in some armour already!"

There was a bang from Dusk's bed as she angrily closed her book. She rose and marched towards the door, stone-faced.

"Dawn!" Sarah moved to intercept her, using her real name.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch me!" the sniper growled, dodging Sarah's hand. The door slammed, leaving the room's three occupants in shocked silence. Keeping her eyes on the floor, Sarah very slowly walked over and sank down onto her old bunk. She put her head in her hands.

Kodiak joined her, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. Glade stared at the door for a moment, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Then he sat opposite her.

"I want you to be a part of this team." He said. "It's where you belong. We all know that. Even Dawn."

"I didn't mean to lose them, Glade." She told him hollowly. "I really didn't. I was careful. We all were. I did my best, but everything there…"

"I know." The older man said soothingly. "I know."

"No you don't." Sarah shook her head. "Neither does she. No one does. That's the problem."

"So tell us." Kodiak said.

Sarah laughed, thinking of Blackhall and the Pint-Sized Slasher, or whatever it had actually been. "You won't believe me. You'll just think I'm crazier."

"We don't think you're crazy, Sarah." Glade assured her.

"Really?" Sarah looked up at him. "Be honest, Glade. Were you going to just let me back on the team?"

"Not quite." He confessed, squirming uncomfortably. "I'd want to be sure you were up to it."

"Through a psych evaluation?"

Glade sighed.

"Fine." Sarah snarled. "Go get Phantom. He can interrogate me all he damned well likes. We'll do it in the cafeteria, where there's more people around to watch. How about that?"

"Sarah…"

"Jason trusted me." She said. "Jason believed in me."

"I know that." Glade replied. "That's why I sent you with him. You deserved the chance to get some distance, Sarah. To recover. I'll go get the Medic. He'll prove you're sane, and we can just put this entire thing behind us, alright?"

Sarah nodded. Glade rose to his feet and walked out, leaving Sarah and Kodiak sitting awkwardly on the edge of her bed.

"So…" the Paladin said, grinning. "You and 'Jason', huh? How's that working out?"

She elbowed him playfully in the ribs. "Shut up, Kodiak."

Brutus took a heavy seat on his concrete throne, his chin resting in his palm as he stared down at the map spread on the floor at his feet. It was accurate, he knew. Down to the last detail, kept up to date by the five Supermutant Generals surrounding it. The secret leadership of the Supermutants, and to his knowledge, the last of the Master's army.

Brutus could had never run this campaign by himself. Forty years building up resources. Losing fifteen to protect forty. Planning and distracting. Slowly bleeding resources and supplies nearly as fast as he collected them. Dealing with witless underlings…

Then there was the addition of the Brotherhood, and the enclave. Not to mention, until very recently, the Lone Wanderer.

It had been a long road, and he was privately thankful that he hadn't been forced to walk it alone, as so many others of his kind had.

His five generals, the architects of the new World. Rust and Angus between them managed the hordes. Scud, a relatively small mutant, was responsible for the Behemoths. The General responsible for the overlords was named Tanka. He was an enormous mutant. At well over thirteen feet in height, he towered over the others. He'd once sent an unfortunate master through the side of a building, but they'd learned to respect his intelligence nearly as much as his fist.

Then there was Casey Jones, the oldest of Brutus' comrades, and a close friend. He was a thin, dark-skinned nightkin. No good at planning or combat, but Brutus kept him for other reasons. Casey Jones was a poet. A writer and a visionary. Brutus knew that after this war was won, he'd need the old mutant, more than any other.

The Generals were spaced evenly around the enormous map, waiting for him to comment.

"De Behemoths are armoured, sir." Scud reported in the usual irritating growl.

"And the stealthboys are ready. We got the ammo and we got the guns and we got the numbers. We can smash the humans!" Angus added. Beside him, Rust burst out in ruckus laughter, the other following suit. Yet they all fell silent as Brutus began to speak.

He said, "Do you know what the secret to breaking a people is?"

"Crush them?" Tanka suggested, grinning.

Brutus gave him a dry look. The enormous mutant's grin widened. "With my foot.

"Wrong." Brutus replied. "I mean to crush a nation. To crush the will of a nation and utterly erase it from existence."

The mutant warriors stared, mystified. "Crush all the humans?"

"Wrong again." Brutus said. "We will probably never get them all.

Casey Jones, who had been silent up until this point, raised a hand. "When you want to destroy a nation, you destroy what defines it. What holds it together. Not the bricks, but the mortar."

"Correct." Brutus smiled. "Ask yourselves, what defines the Capital Wasteland? What are the humans' symbols?"

"The Wanderer?" Angus suggested.

"The Wanderer is dead. Our Ally, Mister Burke, has dealt with him. What other symbols are there?"

"Did he crush him?" Tanka asked eagerly.

Brutus sighed. "Yes. He crushed him. With excessive force. But we need to concentrate on this now. What other symbols are there?"

"The Brotherhood." Rust suggested.

"Good. Very good. And we already have a plan for them, don't we?"

This prompted a round of triumphant growls and chuckling.

"What else?" Brutus asked.

"Project Purity."

"Project Purity." Brutus nodded. "You are correct." He pointed to Angus and Rust. "You two will lead the brutes and the grunts against Project Purity. What other Symbols are there?"

"Galaxy news." Casey jones said. Tanka nodded.

"Crush Three Dog!" Brutus barked, pointing to Tanka. "Crush GNR! You will take the Overlords. Go to Galaxy News. Crush Three Dog. Break his radio station."

The enormous mutant grinned and planted his fist in his palm.

"What about you?" Casey Jones asked.

"I'm going to take you and Scud and the rest of the masters. We'll use the Behemoths to lay waste to the citadel." Brutus said. "I will see Elder Lyons kneel before me. I will see his children crushed beneath our heel and dug into the dust from whence they came. I will see them suffer for all the pain they have caused our family over these twenty long years. But remember, my Brothers, don't kill them all." He smiled slightly, taking up his sword. "We'll need to replenish our numbers after this war is over."

And strangely enough… A lighter chapter. That's okay. Things'll get dark again soon. I can't seem to quite decide on the tone of this story. The inconsistency is bothering me.

For the confused among you, details on Burke, Jackrum, and the Talon Company's change in management can be found in Aqua Vitae. It'll clear up a lot of outstanding issues. The seven mercs Jason references were the same ones Jackrum 'banished' at the end of Aqua Vitae.

Also, I finally updated Pro Posterus, if anyone remembers it. (yes, it's a shameless plug, but it's a very relevant one. This trilogy is part of a larger planned series, after all, and I'm planning a pretty big reveal at the end of that one so stay turned if you're into this. It's coming soon.)