When the first blasts of Caesar's old-world cannons, the new world signalled to the Courier and his allies that it's capacity for violence had met a facsimile of the old. Arcade remembered the sophistication of Navarro, it's flocks of vertibird's laying hellfire into columns of what Molina had called republic ants far away as a child. Boone remembered a centurion's brains leaking from his helmet, far from his body outside a smoking Boulder City. Veronica remembered the shadows in McNamara's eyes after a meeting where war was beaten into the council table.
Staring down the Courier, his cloak, his crimson lensed eyes and his cadre of looming securitrons and gun nosed vehicles were twenty massive armoured figures with guns and launchers that could annihilate several platoons of men fighting across the Hoover Dam.
There were always constant mimics of old world power scraped together by it's remnants. Arcade and Veronica thought it alike, but in different lines.
"What are you doing here Courier?" One of them asked. It was early morning, the gloom was still shading the bleak grey potchmarked ground that rested underneath Tabitha's rise. Gales from a nearby Jericho listed about them, and only Veronica knew that it was McNamara; third from the front rank of TB-51s. They could survive an old world tank shell direct to the chest.
"Trying to stop you from getting us all killed." Was the Courier's response. Anyone of them could wipe out his team. He stood easy on his toes.
"There is no us. We are the brotherhood proud and apart." Another voice, Hardin said.
"Apart as in hiding in a hole from the republic?" The Courier asked. "Save me the bravado paladin. You're out here - in significant force - because you know the bear and the bull are about to rip each other to shreds. High risk high reward strategy."
"And what is that to you Courier: I ask you again, why are you here?"
"To stop you from trying to annihilate the republic army as it retreats from a legion victory, or to stop you trying to cut the republics supply lines if it succeeds in forcing it's way over the Dam into Arizona." The Courier felt compelled to be summary, time was very short. "It doesn't take a strategic genius to work out the brotherhoods potential outlook here Elder: If the republic lose it's battle against Caesar across the dam, it could be annihilated by Caesar's flanking forces. The republic army is brittle, afraid; and a brotherhood assault at the same time on it's rear would dissolve it. Conversely, if the republic wins then Oliver will meat grind his way straight through to Flagstaff. If you cut his supply lines then the republic receives no advantage, or gets turned halfway there and dies in retreat. Either way it doesn't become an even larger insurmountable power for the brotherhood to be caved in by; and Lost Hills isn't forgotten by history."
"You're not portraying a very good reason why we shouldn't attack our hated enemy." McNamara could be comically banal when moved. Even the Courier had noted it on their few meetings.
"If republican citizens wake up and read Tandi's voice extolling the virtue of five hundred young republican men slaughtered by their ancient enemies of the BoS paladins, they'll vote and support for the sending of a thousand more young men here by month's end. If you kill a thousand and maim another, maybe that takes them a year to recover, win or loss against the Legion. Maybe a year. Eventually their bottomless pit of wasteland sprawl spits out enough bullets and poor bodies to march right over the top of you again; just like Helios."
"You talk about Helios again and you'll not talk again."
"We don't either of us need a republic energised by old grudges or enemies; we need a republic that is bruised and battered by it's overreach in Nevada. We need one that has just enough left in the battery to help finish off the legion, but not much more else after." The Courier ignored the prior threat or who posed it. The brotherhood was the wrong republic officer sending a mission with a radio up Tabitha's rise and noticing the fortress section lying below away from being scheduled for annihilation. His industrial scale donations of food and essentials in the face of scribes trawling and trading bought him almost unlimited rebukes.
"How do we accomplish that, if we don't act when they are weak?"
"You do nothing. You train and wait and let me deal with the republic and the legion." Hardin laughed. So did a few others. McNamara and a host of the rest stayed quiet.
"You can't be serious Courier."
"If you give me the day, I'll give you a republic retreat from Nevada. No more republic means no more hiding." The Courier without worrying about the repercussion went into the folds of his duster and pulled out a slender electronic bit. "This includes the lines of demarcation for a brotherhood free to travel for scavenge through the Free Economic Zone of New Vegas. Included are five potential several hundred pre-war military sites located in Arizona."
"The free economic zone?" McNamara spluttered. "You think you and a casino owner can defeat both the republic and the legion? You're insane Courier, by the code you're insane."
"They're already beaten Elder. The truth is, the game was fixed from the start." Six the Kid, the last thing Benny had called him remembered Goodsprings, and his knees cold pressed into the dirt. He thought of his near invincible dermal skin now. "Unit PS-04, demonstration exercise 3."
The securiton far most to the BoS left flank and the Courier's line of sight right tilted it's body, retracted two slides of previously thought casing for electronics and displayed the dual M-235 missile launcher that they all had carried since their manufacture. It's wheels locked, it fired off in a screech eighteen high explosive missiles in a one second delay salvo that pounded a hillside far off into the darkness. The rumble even at a distance could be felt through the Courier's boots, and he imagined that even if those power armoured soles were too thick to feel; they could hear the slam and relief all the better through their enhanced sensory suites.
"So you have some robots with a few missiles? You aren't the first force to find a reserve of pre-war tech. Both the robots and the missiles always run out."
"That unit was constructed last week. All of these robots were." The Courier left the gravity of the statement hang. He could be dead in a few minutes for admitting that alone. "The same goes for their missiles. They won't be running out either; the casino owner has spent the last two hundred years building them for fun."
"You're telling me you have an army of thousands of robots?" McNamara asked. Thousand could have led into five figures in the man's mind.
"I'm telling you that we have the capacity to deal with the republic without inviting the legion into Nevada." The Courier felt the tense quiet now. They didn't like to be the radroach, only the boot. Here was another force that they were befriending, and if given enough time, another boot. It was the NCR all over again to them perhaps.
"Even if we had one robot for every five men in the republic army, it wouldn't be enough." He didn't believe that one bit, but they didn't have thousands he knew; he didn't want them to twist his plans round into some mayhem attempt to rush the NCR itself. "Robots inevitably will never win a war by themselves. No one can fight a million man state like the NCR. But if we let Caesar bloody them, sap their will and at the right time save them from annihilation..." He offered up his hands "-then we can force a diplomatic accommodation."
"You're crazy if you think the NCR will accept that." Hardin tsk'd. "They'll throw everything they have against your robots and send ten thousand more peasants to follow. You should slaughter them all now with us!"
"Diplomatic cooperation unfortunately Hardin." The Courier opened up his hands. "Wait a day. Pack your lunches and suppers and get ready to waltz into Colorado and carry back as much pre-war loot as you can carry. How does that sound?"
"Courier. You'll have your answer when you don't hear the guns at the back of the republic lines, or when you don't." McNamara held up his hand flat. "I think we're done here?"
"I want something for those sites."
"What?"
"If I gave you to them for free, would you really trust it?" McNamara bristled the Courier was sure.
"And what exactly do you want?"
"I want you to protect the additional areas outlined on that data drive. I want the brotherhood to contribute their considerable weaponry to key strongpoints for New Vegas. I also want you to push towards Colorado with my robot army once I have the ability to move it forward. I want you to be an ally on our new state and see it as a true friendship."
"The brotherhood stands apart and alone Courier, always." McNamara, not Hardin said. He didn't say proud however.
"Give it a chance?" The Courier asked.
"I want something too then." McNamara replied.
"What?"
"Access to that-" He motioned towards the radio tower hundreds of feet above, "-I haven't been able to speak to Lost Hills in years. I want to know if they are still alive."
"If the republic managed to destroy Lost Hills, i would be shouted from Nevada to the Rapids." The Courier nodded. "That's fine. Just don't let me hear those guns. Oh also yes; one more add on to our deal: you wouldn't be willing to take a photo with me would you Elder?"
"A photo?"
"Arcade, get your poloroid ready."
Arcade rolled with the force of the blow – explosive in nature, his suit registered the impact with a red klaxon screaming across his right optic while he flailed.
Three long flights from the side-bar of a Hoover Dam maintenance facility, a death slam for anyone not encased in the single best example of technical brilliance for an infantry man in the service of the comically vindictive Enclave.
He crashed onto a thick heap of machinery, smashing it with the combined velocity and weight of his power suit, sent there by some yahoo legionary who'd most likely killed himself with the concussive blast.
The room, winding and endlessly expansive within the barrens of the wasteland was filled with warring parties of god and government. Smoke and tears filled the place, bullets crackled and split and chipped the ancient foundations of the beacon.
Save the Dam!
That was what was being hollered all around the roof of the place, through the cloistered hallways and bleeding lower levels, the radio waves and common cries called for it.
Save the machinery more like, the utility that allowed the republican royalty to quiet their disgruntled masses.
House needed the same rigorous controls to pacify them also; the autocratic father of control knew this more than anyone.
After all, he'd been the one to watch civilization fall into the age of rock and bone; they were all, relative minnows to the man in this field.
He'd came down to find the man responsible for House's defense, in the midst of the republican chaos.
"They say they're a republic…" Alex had snorted that time, just after they'd finished dragging themselves away from ambassador Crocker's office, "…But they tend to act like those other guys…you know – the savages? Do what we say or we'll kill you because we would your city. Assholes."
Bodies were everywhere, the lines had broken and ammunition was almost non-existent. By now the legion should have broken against the massed counter assault of the republic army, but that moment had not occurred.
The legion had deployed exactly as Alex had mused, massive smelted shields covered by old world tech that required nothing beyond a blind sighting of the target required to hit. They had seen them atop Caesar's hillmount, massed metal phalanxes - or testudos if he was being entirely correct to their dress up. Then they had done several more things that the Courier hadn't expected.
Closeted underneath and welded inside, they weren't able to witness the legion pounding the dam's face not with explosive munitions to cover their advance, but with bleaching smoke rounds that had allowed the masses to travel at their leisure. Only they hadn't attacked at a canter; instead they have used the same bright yellow behemoth excavators Arcade had passed at Quarry junction at a time to annihilate the first wooden fortifications of the NCR at speed; before slamming into the second set of fortifications bordered by metal dragons teeth bracing it's metal face. The suicidal run would have been ended with startled NCR troopers surrounding the insane vanguard, only for the hundreds of pounds of explosives packed on board to detonate and decimate hundreds of NCR soldiers by shock, fear & concussion where they hadn't been thrown overboard, incinerated, perforated or ruptured.
This had all been relayed via static communications that went from military speak to sudden panic and horror. They had all felt the world tumble upside down briefly, people had been thrown and pipes had burst as the walls shook. Caesar had gained the same foothold that he'd gained years before, only this time it was five hours earlier than expected and with none of the bleeding Oliver had expected his army to inflict on the legion.
Since then, entire companies of republic soldiers had been decimated and the dam was bleeding water and blood. It seemed precariously close that Caesar's savants would overrun civilization.
Underground they were crept up on by legionnaires followed by their younger slave soldiers. They climbed the face of the dam by long abandoned access points and swinging ropes utilized under the haze of smoke. The sophisticated remote and directed explosives they'd brought ruptured entryways before they had raided the guts of the dam in what seemed like the hundreds if not the dozens.
Arcade pulled himself up and free of the metal mess, attempted to pull free his plasma defender that he'd opted for in lieu of a more brutal melee weapon.
He wasn't here to do more beyond attempt to salvage a situation brought upon them all by the wrongheaded generals and dictators. The legion were near him, fixated on his bloated figure as they lanced him with spears rippers and knives.
It was unresponsive, bent in by the impact to the magnetic holster that the suit provided for. Damn.
Arcade batted them away instead, winced and fought against people who couldn't match his strength or durability.
These men would have killed him under any other environment, but here he was again, trading a life off something else's strength.
The hope was always there for him that he could finally marshal enough power to assert himself the way he wanted to, for those people that he cared about.
Everyone, he cared about everyone.
Even the bloodthirsty idiot who attempted a brutal overhand chop that cracked against his motored helmet – a push of his augmented arm and the brute was sprawling, but followed by ten more behind, twenty more on the catwalks and slip-corridors.
This was a key room to the Dam's functions, rolling the power from the bare capturing ducks of the turbines and then onto the surging power distributors that would allow those controls to be held in the hand of whoever controlled it.
If they didn't kill these men off soon, allow it to wax fierce enough to drive the legion off towards the less critical chaos swallowed corridors and death infested holdouts…then the dam would be useless, and all of them together would be sent back into the barbaric times again.
Where was Alex? The thought drove him mad in the chaos, all he could see was the grapple of men both desperate and driven, the frightened republic conscripts drawn against the merciless demagogue-worshiping fanatics of the legion.
Then there were more explosives, in the hands of a legionary who pulled the pin on some mad concoction of a detonator and dull plastic.
It would have hurt him, Arcade realized that it would have and did not when a shock sent the spread of the mans brains whipping out of his skull into the wall behind him, the explosion took another two legion men that were seeping blood out onto the floor beside him.
That same gun slammed against two other legionary's in quick succession, Arcade's hearing wasn't impaired like the others would be, the suit provided for that.
It was such a distinctive sound: boom boom, and then boom boom.
The twisted to catch the sight of a legion man with a weapon in hand attempting to pierce his back and then – snap! Something landed hard and heavy on his head, the impact had broken his neck.
A jumble of limbs was rolling near him, there was a swing of blackness and then he was facing down a black-visored death mask, artificially etched on with some white outlining to a faux face.
The face grunted, reloaded the long barrelled revolver he'd unloaded, and Arcade was sure there was a smile beneath the grimness.
"They've broken the lines," Arcade said. "We need to shut off the controls to this room-"
"They've been sucked in and destroyed," Alex returned. "I've sent Cass with Hughes. The Scribe and Sgt. Baker are watching the two entry points on our side And-" He pointed upwards.
A pair of Mr. Gutsy's were threatening to spew plasma and flame from their hardened cases, retrieved and restored by Veronica from a vertibird crash they had discovered once upon time during a salvaging expedition in the legion infested southern straits of the Mojave.
Arcade looked over the man; not his face or even any exposed skin, instead he was scrutinizing the hardened features of one of the many experimental stealth suit that he'd picked up from his secret old world repository.
He'd brought it back to be soaked in blood, wasn't it what they all did? The new visionaries of their world were too much like the old.
Yet again the man was right however, his application towards violence included deduction that while not overawing was certainly consistent.
Cass and a bloodied pair of tanned camo soldiers from the Courier's troupe had arrived through the legions main access point, a breach in the upraised maintenance walkways that he'd been tossed from.
She held up a curved finger and thumb conjoined at the tips: danger over.
The space around them was a mess of blood and bodies, bodies and gravely injured were strewn about in the crimson slicks that intermingled with the hacking smoke to create an atmosphere of truly despondent witnessing.
Legion men were still alive in little drips, just like the republic's own, but they'd had their own numbers choked out by Cassidy's interdiction.
The republican soldiers didn't waste time in healing their own men, and when they ran down in their medical wares and exhausted their pity they turned to their own mad sadism. Half of the republics wounded wouldn't survive. Arcade remembered Moreno telling him that for every hundred wounded men that the NCR suffered only thirty ever walked again.
Alex didn't bat an eye under his visor as the republic men began scrounging up bullets to put the legionary's against the wall – or floor more accurately – they were wounded for the most and couldn't rise, most if not all had fought until dead or disabled.
"What about this?" Arcade gestured towards the scene about to play out, summary executions without trial.
Alex turned his head, shrugged.
"Even that suit of yours wouldn't stop you getting eaten alive by these men," The Courier was there, the viper. "They came here to destroy us, they'll pay the price for the attempt."
Arcade snapped at his arm and was momentarily afraid he might have hurt him.
"This is murder!" He said loud enough for heads to turn, suspect eyes following the slight upset.
"This is war." The Courier returned, "Blood, shit, piss and glory. They'll be a drop in the ocean by the end of the day."
Alex hollered up to Cassidy, finger rolling in a twist – It's time to wind this up.
Arcade went to follow but then took one last fleeting look at the scenes – studying the pain in the faces of the persecutors and victims alike of this new injustice, the knives and pistols and rifles being loaded with shaky hands to deliver supposed justice.
They hadn't changed from the days of the killing power of rock and bone, the weapons were merely gaining back ascendency in ingenuity, and man's ruthless heart was there again.
He didn't follow the Courier. His fingers moved off their own volition.
Instead Victoria met him halfway through the last bend as troopers hurried by made their way through the listing interior of the Dam, stepping over bodies that bore the sign of the bears tanned khakis and the bulls ridiculous armor plate. The floor was coated in the same slickness that affected the dusty sodden walls, slick crimsons. They finished at a bend filled with ready republican troopers. She noticed how bare and childish their skin seemed to her. It was the fear doing it she thought.
Inside was a wide old world office converted to a republic munitions and staff room. The Courier met a frantic set of republic officers and aides that nervously glanced at their guards when they entered. Their sets of radios never stopped receiving and sending.
"How is upstairs major?" The captain was a dark skinned man was a sharp face. He didn't look up from leaning heavily on the fat face of the metal desk.
"We're taking heavy casualties. We're also seventy yards and two positions further back than what we wanted." Victoria might have imagined more sinister reasons as to why he gave her a meaningful look.
"We stopped them destroying the dam."
"It might not be enough." Was the brow furrowing reply. "The legion are scum. For years it's been sneak attacks, tactical withdrawals, javellins and that god damn juice they use to see better at night. Getting them into the shooting gallery was meant to suit us."
"And it hasn't? Eventually bullets beat sticks."
"They've already used high explosives and pre-war vehicles to shatter our front lines - or did you forget?" The captain took a long moment to speak again. "Now we're hearing about artillery pieces levelling Forlorn Hope and motorised gliders streaming over Cottonwood Cove. That isn't even it all." [change bikes in prior chapter]
"What could be worse? Deathclaw with chainsaw arms?" Veronica couldn't believe she blurted it out. The major looked at her again.
"The gliders aren't the only thing at the Cove. The legion built rafts months ago, but Oliver forbade them being destroyed. He wanted the legion to get across to the other side then get pounded by our guns." The major sagged. "Our guns were taken out by the bombers on the gliders. Why would they expect that? Why the hell would we dig them in? Or why would Forlorn Hope expect artillery pieces, or why would we expect the legion having some sort of energy rifles that are cauterising our mens heads right on top of us?"
"The legion are using pre-war tech?"
"They're rolling hundreds of motorcycles across the Cove. People are saying they see power armor amongst the legions first forces. It's all the same bullshit as those phantom radio calls before the assault...but this," The major shook his head in disgust while the Courier looked on silently, "Those bikes are real. If they can get one hundred legionnaires or frumen-what-ever-the-fuck behind the dam - if they suicide run Forlorn hope or our hospitals..."
"-Then we'll be bottled up in Oliver's tunnel before they scalp us from the back." The Courier replied. But he shook his head just as quickly. "You don't think the entire NCR army is gonna spook do you? Really?"
"We need to finish the legion here before they overrun our flanks."
"How do we do that?"
"We can't as it stands. Unless you have an ace up your sleeve."
"The lady in the water can level everything the other side of the Dam. Your intelligence station has the boomer radio codes. Give them the coordinates."
"It isn't enough to be frank-" It wasn't the major. The interruption came from someone with the same bars on his collar though, "-We will need more than that to survive the next few days."
The major motioned to his right,"-This is major Haberbaum. He's from colonel Moore's staff." Haberbaum was a wiry man, tall with wireframe glasses and thin skin, lips and limbs. He looked utterly ill suited to be a soldier. Hh stepped up to the Courier without pause. The major wasn't frightened by the armor, the visor, the gun or Veronica's defender it seemed.
"We're bottled here Courier. We were expecting Caesar to come on and join us in a meatgrinder. Maybe if he had countless divisions waiting patiently over the hill then they could all be flattened. But they aren't. They're streaming across the Colorado miles by miles and we can't re-deploy."
"So what's the plan?"
"We tighten up the dam into a siege. The legion got too far on their slide and met the wet end of our 20mm cannons. We are going to melt every single access point and doorway until it'll take a brotherhood armoury to get inside."
"And then what?"
"Then we will move most of our forces against a second alignment. Covering the back end of Forlorn Hope and dig into the rock face. We have enough pre-war auto cannons here to turn Caesar's main force into mist. We just can't get forward."
"What?" The Courier couldn't restrain himself. Veronica wasn't far behind him. "Why are you retreating? Lasers, motorbike gangs, who gives a shit? You're the NCR. You have thousands of men out there ready to march into the legion guts first."
"Ranger command and Camp Golf is gone or neutralised." The skinny major said it matter of factly, "Turned to ashes by a multi-headed brotherhood style nuke launcher attack. Camp McCarren is facing hundreds of popped up fiends with heavy weaponary. Our men are putting rounds of 5.56 into them by the magazine and they're apparently still coming. You say it's one hundred assholes on motorbikes; what if it's one hundred assholes and ten of them have fat men launchers?"
Ranger command gone. Hanlon dead. It should have meant more, but to Veronica they all merged into the blob of khaki.
"Caesar has played you into a panic. He isn't like the brotherhood. You can tell which of them have the nukes by how polished their plates are." Veronica couldn't help herself. Did she feel actual glee? "The legion has numbers, and now they have big guns that you don't know where it is."
"If a legion assault rushes the dam we could lose hundreds of soldiers." The nice major decided to step in when the skinny major gave her a withering look. Or what he thought passed for withering. "If even one attack lands in our command centre we could have our entire army retreat once our command staff dies."
"You're retreating then. That's it?"
"We need to consider worst case scenarios. Here, we need to detain any errant variables and tighten up into a siege." The major stood up and faced the Courier eye to eye. Veronica felt his guards tighten behind them.
"I feel an ask oncoming."
"What else have you got to help us make this work?" She was impressed by the sheer balls of the man. No one looked that hardy with all of that tech under Alex's skin, but the skinny guy smirked and didn't blink as the Courier stared. But then two hundred bad soldiers counted for something she guessed. "It's chips on the table time like you say in Vegas. If you don't give us everything you can, there might not be a New Vegas."
"Trucks with machine guns on top. Armored. Stocked with experienced soldiers. They can watch the flanks and report back quicker than a republican grunt squad. It might be a solution to the biker problem."
Maybe he had expected the Courier to be enraged at his insolence. He raised his eyebrows in response. No republican goons appeared out of the door behind them to ensnare them in the stripped brotherhood armor she'd seen them wear on occasion. She could imagine ten of them waiting outside in the covers of the pipes like creeps.
"Moore thinks House can do alot more for us. She thinks he's holding back a reserve of his securitrons."
"Major Mr House doesn't have one single securitron that isn't sitting outside the strip waiting on Caesar's agents to strike." The Courier lied without pause. "If we had anything extra to give, we would. That's why I'm here in the flesh and blood with my flesh and blood friends. No one wants the lunatics to win, it's bad for business aside from anything else."
"You're pretty safe in that pre-war suit I'd imagine." Haberbaum said. Ballsy as Cass would say. "Your friend here has pre-war combat armor. Everyone of your mercenaries the same. Droids following you everywhere. You slept in a room with a shower last week up in the Lucky 38."
"You're starting to be impolite."
"What about the boomers?"
"They're guns don't shoot far enough, even with pre-war tech."
"And they didn't happen to hand over a firing pin to Caesar?"
"If you even thought that for half a second longer than it took to say it, why am I not dead or in the brig?" She saw the Courier's fingers twitch. He never thought of the NCR betraying him first strangely Victoria knew. If things went this badly for them, what would they do?
"We need to make progress from your end of our deal here." The Courier cocked his head. The officers around him peeked their heads like molerats.
"Our deal is a contract between the NCR presidents table down to the ambassador to Mr House. We don't have a deal." The Courier said. "The NCR can save the dam for their own purposes, and defeat the Legion for their own purposes. We lease the dam, you protect it."
"And if Caesar wins, you think he'll honour the same contract?"
"As far as I'm concerned House's money spent enough to get premier mercenary blood over the Forlorn hope. My team's blood spends just the same here." The Courier almost dared him to disagree. Veronica was sure that Alex was an anomaly to them. The major was well kept and clean; the Courier had just spent two hours blind siding legionnaires with a 357 in stealth armor. When was the last time an NCR major faced a threat inches away? It was these men that had directed the grunts into the Lost Hills meat grinder. "Three APCs filled with mercenaries that are loaded with enough guns to level a brotherhood platoon. You want it or not?"
Haberbaum had the sense to laugh more nervously than he probably wanted if his prior calm was anything to go by. His hands went up in mock surrender and he took a flattering step back.
"We value your assistance Courier, really." He tsk'd behind his palms, "I apologise - unreservedly. But it's our blood coating the dam. We need something to change the balance of things. We need our ally to give anything left that they can." It seemed that he went for the tactic of trying to play Alex as having stepped over the line by his glances to his fellow officers. They all stood wider eyed than a second before only.
"If it's all you have then it's what we will take. But we're feeling the heat here. If we don't win this thing then sacrifices will need to be made."
"What sacrifices?" The Courier asked. He sensed bad intentions. She knew thats all they had. Once upon time the NCR and the brotherhood sat in council together.
"Everything that can be thought off as being the worst outcome Courier. You don't want a thousand republic soldiers bracing the walls of Vegas; or another thousand legionnaires facing them down. I get that." The nice major put his hands on his hips as he sided up to Skinny. Sighed. He was having a bad day. "We can't turn anything down. However Haberbaum is just the messenger, so I'd advise you to get up topside and give your command relays to Major Brighton. We won't let Vegas fall into Caesar's hands. But if we have to defend it, we won't be defending it outside it's walls. You can take as gospel."
"If any NCR troops attempt to garrison Vegas then the terms of our deal are breached." The Courier didn't say anything more.
"It isn't our deal Courier; and if we don't make headroom now, Moore has to take all steps available to her." Skinny grimaced and grinned. "Look at it this way, even if our worst case fallback happens - it'll still save you from Caesar."
"Loud and clear major." They left the room and abruptly intercepted four power armored NCR soldiers stripped at the joints. The Courier steadied himself and brushed past them after a moment of shock.
He was rattled all the way to the stairwell that led to the only remaining hatch not welded on the NCR side of the dam. Veronica grabbed his arm, "-what are you going to do?"
"We're going to get upstairs and send off Prague with his new orders."
"Alex." She knew using his name was a touchstone that she or anyone could pull when she needed his attention. He held value in his real name. "When Cass hears that the republic is retreating, she's gonna react very badly."
He gave her a meaningful look off all a few seconds, hidden behind the pre-war deathmask.
"I'll deal with Cass."
The hatch opened for them into the arid Nevada midday. It was dimmed under the plumes of smoke wafting over head from fires distant and others close enough to slicken her tongue. When they stood up fully and tried not to be unnerved by the two nervous looking machine gun wielding soldiers that greeted them, they were able to smouldering see patches of the dam through the thick smoke. Veronica pulled up the cloth tied around here neck to protect her throat.
Alex marched past the guards and ignored the smoke it seemed. He marched towards some ornamentally dressed NCR officers with caps and UV protected shades dressing their faces. One at the front with a square jaw surveyed the barren land across past the Colorado river through a pair of binoculars. He didn't turn and neither did most of the others.
Veronica turned and saw the walls of the fort. There was smoke atop the metal battlements and rolling from behind far away. At the front nearer the dam approach she saw bodies strewn in the dozens across one narrow shelf.
The horizon became a blot of fire and smoke when they closed to the centre of the dam. Jittery republican soldiers surrounded them in the hundreds. They all seemed young, but then her family in times past had killed thousands of the older recruits she guessed.
"What have you got for us Courier?" Presumably the major they were directed too asked. He seemed like the only person interested in the man dressed like a Gronak alternate universe ninja. The men behind looked off into the distance; they were able to direct the thousands of soldiers the NCR had at their command. Fire covered up blood beyond their gaze but they didn't bother turning.
"Some quick trucks that are armed and armoured. Between them and the men inside, they can shift fast and throw a punch where needed."
The major nodded. It looked like a laundry list recitation for him.
"Inform your men that they are under my command. If they have radios we can keep them updated as they move, save too much sun spots and the like. Your help is appreciated Courier." That was that. The major nodded in dismissal and waited for Alex to hand over his exclusively and laboriously selected New Vegas militia to men who threw hundreds of soldiers at Legion positions every other month.
They got far enough away where she pulled his arm.
"Don't hurt Cass. But don't let these assholes win." She didn't know where it came from, but it came. "They are just throwing people into the fire. It's disgusting."
"Yes. It is. Let's go change that." Alex replied.