Wasteland Odyssey

Chapter Seven: Beginning of the End

'I and Alban were off again, trotting through the countryside sixty or so miles north on the 93, near the Colorado river. The trip was more like eighty, but the longer route was better than going straight along the River. It was so different, hidden, unlike back in Bullhead. Well within the rocky hills and crags it became a hell to travel, but spirits were high, focused. One day more, and we'll be in Vegas. I can't help the excitement of it all, or the lingering dread.'

(One Day Later)

Nick shut the small journal with a yawn and quickly disposed of it in his bag. Their band had followed the old highway systems east outside of Bullhead. The only other sure way across that Nick knew of was Hoover Dam, though he'd never seen it and that was still some ways ahead. As Fergus had described it, it was a massive curved monstrosity of concrete connecting the separated sides of a deep tear in the terrain, holding back the contents of Lake Mead. People had used it long ago in order to control the flow of water, and draw power from its currents.

Such a thing seemed impossible to him, but Fergus insisted. People back in the day were capable of tremendous things, other than dropping bombs, it would seem.

It was something to think about, as he was trekking up the side of an old on-ramp, over to his left the overpass of 93, these cut through the rocky crags and mountains that contained the river. Using these narrow passages weren't without danger though. Roads were great for travel if you could read a map, but raiders loved to use them for ambushes, hideouts and bases. Night was fading fast, riders were starting to slump in their seats, light was running low. They'd have to tread carefully to avoid any ambushes if they chose to keep going through the night, even with the moon. It wouldn't be ideal, and he didn't figure Naddok for an idiot. He'd call everyone to a stop soon. They'd been sent down to help check the road underneath for raiders, and were heading back up to rejoin the main band.

Nick's mind drifted back and he wondered if he'd be able to see Hoover this trip, though he was doubtful. Glancing backwards, Fergus was on his own horse behind him, and four khan riders trailing him. Turning back around, his eyes followed further up the line of horses in his band far to the front of the line where he found Naddok, of course, resting atop the crest of the ramp glancing back to watch over the progress momentarily. Seeing a second horse break formation, the steed came to a halt beside its kin, Bren perched in the saddle.

Sitting straight in his own, Nick's eyes lingered on the clan leader.

Naddok nodded to one of his men as he passed, looking up the line to monitor his small leather-clad army. They'd met with their outward scouts and hunting parties on the northern outskirts of Bullhead, bolstering their numbers. He didn't have an exact head count, but with the right plays, this would be a raiding party unlike anything the NCR had faced before and that didn't include their northern kin. All things considered, he was certain he could push the other tribes into action, something that he and Papa Khan were in agreement for once, they would have to play their cards right though.

When he glanced back down the trail his eyes roamed his men before locking with his spawn, just realizing he was being stared at. Shaking the reins, he clicked his tongue twice and the horse was set in motion down as he shouted, "Link up and cross the Bypass!" Bren galloping to stay close by.

Scoffing, Nick continued to let his eyes roam the landscape, but that lost its appeal shortly after. One could only look at brown rocky mountains and dirt for so long without being bored out of their skull, and it'd been like this for the past day.

As Alban kept moving below him, they merged into the rest of the caravan, leading towards a bridge. A few riders took point as his group took up the front face, wagons moving again. Once the first rider hit the bridge, all hell broke loose.

Silhouettes played across the flat black and dim light of a campfire on the bridge. Lead was flinging at them in loud snaps, men shouting 'Raiders!' Cracks and pops followed soon after from his side of the bridge, Naddok bellowing orders above the gunfire. Riders split to the sides, covering the wagons and Nick did the same. From his angle, Nick could see Khans dismounting and taking to the fight on foot, firing at any muzzle bursts or shadows they spot. Reeling back on the reins, Alban steadied enough for Nick to shoulder his rifle, but he couldn't see anything through the scope! It was too dark!

Turning to Fergus, dread welled in his stomach as Fergus was nowhere to be seen in the chaos. In fact, looking around, he couldn't see anyone he recognized.

More gunshots rained down from one of the cliff sides, wounding a few khans, and this one he could see! Shouldering his rifle, he followed his gut, just like with the geckos.

His eyes widened.

Why wasn't he pulling the trigger?

The raider reloaded, and started anew.

Shoot!

Others started shooting back, but the maniac wasn't concerned. He just kept on that trigger.

'PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER!'

His .243 rocked back into his shoulder dully. The scoped smacked into his eye, but he shrugged it off. All he could see, was the silhouette crumple to the ground.

The fight lasted only a few moments more and the bridge was clear. Naddok quickly pulled himself up one of the wagons, "How many wounded!?"

One of his Road Captains broke formation, "Nine, sir. Only one is serious but not life threatening. No deaths."

"Excellent, what happened?"

Another stepped forward. "Raider camp, likely watching Hoover. We think we got so close because their sentry on the cliff was passed out."

Naddok chuckled lowly, that was a strange bit of luck, eh? He was certainly grateful. If they'd been warned, he could've lost people on this bridge. He noticed the look the man was giving him though, "Send a group and some prospects down into Hoover for supplies, I'd rather eat into our caps than our meds, and we'll treat our wounded here." Looking to everyone, all eyes back on him, "Listen up! We're camping here! First light, we head on!"

Nick had stayed in his saddle in awe, as he pushed Alban to the side of the bridge. He just killed a person. It was his second kill. Why did he hesitate? However, even as addled as he was, nothing could steal away the sight that awaited him. Clambering down from his horse, the boy was mesmerized.

Across the way he could see it, the entirety of Hoover Dam, from his elevated position a mile off, ambient light brightened the darkening sky from its crevice in the land. Most notably from the town that rested on its top. They probably still had an hour of low light, but with a place like that who could ever trust such a rough and large group? Pulling out his 'telescope', he began picking out sections off from the main line of clustered lights and main buildings, a few small house clusters scattered around. They'd even built buildings down the length of the sucker!

"That's Hoover, they're an alright people, even if they had ties to the NCR once." Setting down his spyglass, Fergus had come up beside him, feeling the need to chat while leaving enough room for the others to move and unpack freely around them. He could only smile at the sight before him, to see such a. . . such a monster! And ugly as hell compared to the rest of the Wasteland, but the lights that spotted around it were pleasant. It was unreal. "Quite the sight huh? You want to take a look?"

"What do you mean?"

Fergus took a moment to think about his words, "Well, the man that's in charge of rounding up supplies, an picking who goes? That's me." Fergus had long noticed the boy's 'scope eye.' This one was easy, the boy couldn't possibly have seen the woman's face. He would bounce back, and the next ones would be easier from this. He wasn't sinking into himself, which was good, after all that he'd heard of about the trouble at Harland's.

He hoped.

"Really," Nick asked, looking forward to going, "no shit?"

Fergus smiled again, shaking his head at the young boy "No shit. So drop your travel pack and follow me." Doing as told and remounting, the boy trailed along with Fergus as he assembled those heading to Hoover, including some prospects he knew.

Eyes jumping from Michael, Baines, then Martin. He wasn't certain who the other two were but he didn't think it be in his favor if those three found a common enemy in him.

Once they had left and were half way to Hoover, Fergus drew back to him. "So," Nick began, mulling over what he'd heard, "These tribes that we're supposed to meet, can you tell me about 'em?"

Thinking it over, Fergus saw no harm in giving the child the basics, and indulged him, "We're meeting with our mother tribe to the north under Papa Khan," he shifted in his saddle. They'd have to get moving soon, "The Boot Riders, Slither Kin, and the Sawneys. They're the local tribes, been in the area long before any Khan, though aren't as strong, but that's mostly due to numbers and training."

Nick didn't seem to notice the lack of further details, the sky was approaching a dark midnight blue, stars barely able to punch their light through the ambiance to share their glow. Only when Fergus reached over to nudge his shoulder did he get in gear, kicking lightly at Alban's sides for him to do the same a few paces behind Fergus to bring up the end of the line, the other riders now ahead of them. It was fifteen minutes later before the group finally came to a stop, horses stalling before the town's eastern gate.

"What's your business, rider?" a guard called, out of site, "We've had raider trouble on the 93 for a couple weeks now, and we heard that gunfire. That you?"

Fergus' spurred Doe forward to the head of the formation, signalling Nick to stay beside him, "That was us. Our caravan happened upon them on the bypass and we have wounded. We'd like to trade for supplies, if that's permissible."

"Damn, did ya waste 'em all?" He asked again, hope evident in his voice.

"That we know of, so can we enter?"

There was a short pause, before the man called again from the gate, "I'll tell you what stranger. Since you took out those raiders, I'll get the Captain here asap. I can't guarantee he'll let you in though."

"Thank you, it's the best we can ask." When no answer came back, he assumed then the man had left and turned to Nick, "Being polite can get you a lot in life boy, taking the diplomatic route can earn you a bigger prize than through savagery."

"But then why train us? Why the raiding parties?" Nick was genuinely surprised to hear this from Fergus, he'd never seen this side of him. A diplomat type?

"Because when diplomacy fails, we need to be the demons they never wanted to unleash. Take what I say seriously, even your father built Bullhead through a balance of diplomacy and savagery, and it's why our clan has done so well."

Before he could respond, the gate guard returned, "The Captain has taken a look at ya', and decided to grant you entry. Don't abuse it, please."

The gate split down the middle, where a number of guards had prepared positions, and looked disciplined. These men were well trained, Nick thought, as he followed his people with the gate and onto 'The Rim' according to the sign he rode by on the way in. The guards stopped them short, once everyone was within the gate.

"We ask that you dismount, and that only half of you are roaming the town at any given time. You're khans, we see that now. But you aren't hostile." The Captain said, stepping forward, "If you're their leader Fergus, I'd like to have a word with you."

Fergus nodded and relented to the simple command, "You heard him, I only need a few of you anyway." The tolerance of the guards was shocking, didn't Fergus mention they were NCR once? The guards were too well trained to be wasters, so they must be deserters, then. Was this what Fergus meant when he said they were okay people? He left with them so willingly, they even knew him!? Fergus was quick to depart, taking six men with him as the rest hung around the gate.

Dismounting Alban and hitching him to a nearby post, Nick glanced down the Rim, and was surprised to see 'Frieda's Firearms' there to the right, no further than fifty yards. His hands quickly wormed into the front chest pocket of his jacket. Pulling out the waiver card he won, he reread the name, "Frieda's Firearms."

Scurrying over to the front door, the guards seemed more worried with the adults than the young prospects. Five feet from the door, he could see a very disgruntled man about to storm through, shouting too, but he couldn't hear what. Allowing the man to exit first, he opened the door and the argument was out in the open, " -don't give a fuck, Frank! I told you I will never sell out to the Crimson Caravan. Bring up my family ties again, and I swear to you Frank, you'll regret it!"

The man turned back utterly furious, "You absolutely arrogant, devilish woman! I'm not going to stand here and listen to your foul mouth another second!"

"Then turn around, close the door and SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The man stepped from the door frame and slammed the door with both hands, breathing heavily. Straightening the jacket to his relatively clean pre-war suit, he walked on further into Hoover, never giving him a glance.

Nick watched him for a moment longer, 'What the fuck?' Looking at the card again, he reached for the door and opened it. Inside, the room was spacious, and separated by a counter bar that spanned the length of the room. Behind that counter, gun lock cabinets lined the walls, with any gun he could think of it seemed. This place, this place was like a piece of heaven, and it was there just for him.

"Scram kid, we're closed."

Nick saw a woman with blonde hair that hung off her leather clad shoulders in curly waves, holding a file and having exited what he guessed was an office. She was a little tall for most women he saw in Bullhead, but she was also pretty, kind of like that lady proctor. In the way she held herself.

Why did that matter?

"I hope your not still processing what I said, we're closed."

Clearing his throat in embarrassment, "I'm sorry miss, but, I was wondering if you could tell me what this was worth." He had the card ready, when he lifted his arm and presented the waiver. The woman, Frieda he assumed, dropped her file onto the counter uninterested. She stepped through a small hidden door in the counter to get a closer look, going so far as to take the card from him.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, just looking it over.

"I earned it, so what's it worth?"

The woman scoffed, looking back down at him, "I doubt that," she said, as she tore up the waiver.

"Hey! What the fuck lady?" What kind of bullshit shop makes waivers and doesn't fulfill them.

"You're a kid, you're a khan, you got a .243," she listed off her fingers, "now get the fuck outta my shop."

"Damn, you really must be an arrogant, devilish woman," Nick replied, making his exit before the bitch had a chance to speak, fuck her attitude! Stepping outside, he heard Fergus call for him.

"Petty!" He cringed internally, but it didn't hurt like it did hearing it from Naddok, Bren or Chance. Instead, he just sighed. This hadn't been the experience he was hoping for.

Rejoining his uncle, he learned Fergus had the supplies they needed, and everyone was heading back. It was a half hour later he had finally settled into his bedroll back on the bypass, and he drifted into sleep easily, 'Tomorrow,' he thought in passing, 'Tomorrow, we'll be in Freeside.'

(The Next Day, June 9th, 2269)

(Freeside)

"You listening Bren," Fergus asked, his brow raised as he shifted his eyes down to his nephew, continuing his stride up a set of stairs. "One day it may be you in this position."

Bren returned the look, a mask of indifference shielding his inner thoughts. It reminded Fergus of Naddok so easily, it was eerie. It felt like it was yesterday when the boy was no taller than his thighs, always smiling. Those days were gone.

And his youngest nephew was turning out the same.

"Yes, pay attention and keep quiet. Pretty easy to remember Uncle," was the boy's quick reply.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Fergus grabbed onto the doorknob, hesitating briefly, "Good, because after today things are going to change."

Opening the door revealed an old conference room at the top of a three story casino building named 'The Atomic Wrangler', the building 'they' chose. Already the room was swelling around the conference table with some of the top advisers of each of the tribes in attendance, as well as some others, lieutenants just acting as a body to deter any sort of argument from breaking out. Just because this was supposed to be a friendly affair it wouldn't do to appear weak.

Bren chose to ignore the idle chatter that filled the room instead making his way to his father, sat at the table straight in his chair, Fergus coming to stand just behind his right side, himself at his left with the Road Captains behind them. Under them were the Sergeant-at-Arms and Enforcers, but they remained outside to keep soldiers and prospects in line. Bren ran his eyes through the participants at the table.

The leaders of each tribe, minus one; At the head of the table sat Art Candor, a tall man with an athletic build, dark skin, eyes and hair, cropped close to his head. He actually stood at 6' 2'', making him one of the tallest in the room. Behind him was a young woman, probably in her late twenties, who he heard was named Marjorie, she was fair skinned, and tall for a woman standing at 5' 9'' with her long dirty brown hair falling over her left eye, her hazel eye hiding a deep intelligence and cunning that put Bren on guard, always aware of the slender woman that appeared to harbor a scheming nature. She also benefited from the fact her people, the Sawneys, were one of the biggest tribes of the Freeside territories. It was them hosting this little powwow, as 'curious mediators.'

Clockwise, between Art and his father, was Papa Khan. He was an older gentleman having at least ten years on his dad, but he was still strong and sturdy if his brawny build was anything to go by. Even the slight graying of his black hair and full beard only added to the illusion of a man soon nearing the end of his fighting days. And it was a good illusion, indeed. The man wouldn't be giving up his saddle and horse just yet. It was this man his tribe owed some modicum of allegiance under, and as promised, his father built numbers to be a strong fighting force, loyal. Good Khans. Out of everyone, he trusted in Papa Khan to have their back in this discussion.

Then again, in all rights his pop should've ignored this whole charade, but even his father couldn't ignore the NCR for long.

Shaking his head, he stopped his idling and turned his attention back to his father, who seemed to be contemplating something when he saw the man sigh.

Naddok sighed, thinking, 'I could have everyone pack-up. Go farther east,' he shook his head of the thought. . . Moving that many people by land, far enough to be of no concern of the NCR, Naddok didn't believe there was a land far enough. More importantly, that many people? They'd lose families, lots of them, in a journey like that.

No. He didn't think he could cut and run, call it a gut feeling, but running felt like it'd only lead to a worse fight, thinking back to the prophecy.

He sighed again. He'd been doing that a lot lately he felt, as often as these thoughts seemed to plague him.

On the opposite end of the host, was the leader of the Slither Kin, a burly man like Papa Khan, he'd stand eye to eye with the man at 6' 1'', the thing though, was that this man had more of his youth to back it up. Copperhead, a name he'd given himself when he became leader, in reference to the shaved copper toned head and chiseled bearded face he possessed. He was stubborn and quick to provoke, Naddok knew of their slave trading too, and while he didn't condone, he recognized it as the quality source of income that it was, and it was at their control. They attained slaves through trickery, deception, and some drugs, and Naddok felt that even though they could be trusted to offer fighting men and women, Naddok wouldn't ever extend that trust beyond that milestone.

Naddok's eyes shifted from Copperhead to the door, as the final member finally made his entrance, members of his own Boot Riders entering the room behind to join the throng. A strong looking man of 6 foot even, he was a Caucasian man with brown hair tied back into a long ponytail, his brown eyes surveying the room. "My apologies," the new arrival said, bowing modestly. Righting his stance, the man, Bingo, took his seat across from Naddok on the other side of Candor. "I see I am the last to arrive."

"Excellent observation," commented Copperhead, from his end of the table, looking at the Boot Riders askance. He wasn't the most patient, and he wasn't keen on the idea of these 'talks'. Especially with those he looked to usurp power from.

The head Boot Rider turned his even gaze on that of his Slither Kin counterpart, a sickly smile slowly spreading across his face, his eyes darkening as he tented his fingers in front of him, elbows resting on the table. No one was friends here, and the tension was growing as fighters on both sides glared each other down.

Before things could erupt, Art cleared his throat getting the attention of those around the table. "Now that we're all here," he started, his lanky hand moving to gesture at Papa Khan, "Papa Khan has sent emissaries to us all, in relation to the NCR, he wishes to discuss a plan of action. And while I have not agreed to any terms, I have agreed to hear out his request. He and his people have been well-mannered during their stay over the past decade. I can count on one hand the times we've come to blows, over that period. So, Papa Khan, if you would?"

Papa Khan, nodded humbly, "Thank you, the NCR is getting bolder, how long will it be before their sights are set here," Papa Khan started, his voice deep, as he stood from his seat. "We were kicked from California by the NCR. Every year they will grow stronger and if nothing is done, we will cease to exist."

"So far this 'nation' seems to only be a Khan issue. It's you who've lost your territories. The NCR is no problem to us, and if they decided to venture here, we can handle ourselves and whatever this. . . NCR can throw at us," Stated Copperhead, like it were a fact. "They are not the most dangerous thing in the Wasteland."

That was enough to peak Naddok's interest, so he jumped in, though remained seated, "The NCR is much stronger than you realize. The NCR isn't some untested force. They've endured the Enclave, and they continue to endure the Brotherhood of Steel, meanwhile handling regular raids from our war bands across California. They are a sleeping beast, and while I personally don't like it, they will require our full attention. It would be foolish to underestimate this foe." He was curious what he meant by his last statement, enough that he'd personally like to discuss it at a later date. In a more private setting.

Papa Khan continued off his momentum, "They'll pick us apart alone, and even together we can't risk all out open fighting. The point is, that eventually the NCR will be here and the land you squabble for will be theirs in the end."

Taking a moment, the room muttered about what had been said, they all heard of the Enclave and Brotherhood, and neither of the two were pushovers. Bingo decided to address another outside factor to account for, "We have noticed a build up along the Strip. I'm sure you Khans noticed on the way over. It's been going on for years with no contact from the robots, otherwise, they've been of no bother. . . until you wander too close to the Strip."

"We should leave them be," insisted Papa Khan, "Let them build, attract more settlers for us to raid, more for you to recruit and do the same. What we don't want is for the NCR to grow too powerful. Naddok had a point, that the NCR is stronger than us. Organized, with a standing army."

"Leaving the Strip doesn't hurt us." Copperhead leaned back in his seat, feet propped up on the table, crossing his arms over his chest to get comfortable, "It's just a bunch of robots. Who cares? We can turn them into scrap afterwards if we really wanted. But I suppose the NCR could be a fun victim to hound."

Marjorie leaned down, whispering into Art's ear, he nodded and she pulled back, then he spoke himself, "Apparently, the robots have been somewhat accepting. Marjorie has informed me that some of the smaller gangs have been contacted. But further scouting only showed that they started helping in building the wall."

"And they're of no real problem either, they couldn't match us, robots or not. They'd turn at the sight of my boys," Copperhead said, getting a sadistic smile. His own men agreeing in their subtle shift, murderous intent darkening their faces, and their eyes glimmering with blood lust. Naddok watched them carefully, he would appreciate such zeal against a decided target, so long as that target wasn't his own people. He'd have to tread lightly.

"Naddok," Art said, out of the blue, "You're the only tribe not from the area. What are your thoughts?"

Naddok was a little surprised, but didn't let it register on his face, instead taking the question in stride, "I'm concerned that we're missing something about these robots. A bigger piece to the puzzle, that's not yet clear as to where it fits. Who's to say it won't become its own problem later."

"Agreed," Art conceded easily, if there was one thing the man hated, it was unforeseen threats and factors. He was a man of information, he wanted to see every angle, in order to control his outcome. The Strip was an enigma, one that was brewing and he couldn't even begin to guess the motivations of machines. From what Marjorie described moments earlier, the contacted gangs sounded like they were simply helpful hands in constructing the wall around the Strip. But nothing was that simple.

"So the consensus isn't clear then, for now I guess nothing is done," Bingo said, shaking his head. He then looked directly at Papa Khan, "Say I pledge support, what are we talking about?"

"Individually we hound them, as stated by Copperhead, attacking their caravans and smaller settlements. Organize together to strike larger targets. The problem later becomes supporting ourselves. Spoils from caravans won't do it alone. We need to set up means of acquiring caps, for guns, munitions, supplies. . . otherwise we'll exhaust our resources. And that's a partnership all its own, we'd have to aim big."

"My kin sell slaves out east, good money a head," Copperhead chuckled humorlessly, "But that's chump change if we're being serious about this."

"How bout chems," Naddok began, getting the other four to look at him, "The NCR is notorious for its no tolerance of non-medicinal drugs. Med-X, Buffout, Jet, Psycho, Daddy-O, you name it; there's always a demand for it, question is if we can supply it. Between regular raids, gathering slaves, supplies and after establishing a chem trade we have caps while undercutting the NCR. If we want to get this on its legs, I believe one of them is getting a chem trade up and running."

Art tapped his hand off the table, drawing the light back on him, "Those Followers of the Apocalypse. . .in the Old Mormon Fort. They've been left alone for the most part, because they offer food, medical supplies, basic education skills. Not too mention they're close enough to the Strip that any trouble attracts the robots to their aid. Could we use that?"

"Absolutely," Bingo replied, "They haven't discriminated. Taught a few of my boys how to read and write. From there, they've passed it on and so forth. There's the fiends that still operate around Nevada. . . the Jackals and Vipers too. Supply those junkies with chems, they'd do what we want. Use them like cannon fodder for all we care."

Papa Khan nodded, "Our Khans would benefit, even if we only sent a handful between Naddok and myself to these Followers. . . I'm liking this idea, the more I think about it."

"My Slither Kin use drugs for our methods as well, and having an ability to make our own would be stupid to pass up. I'd agree to that."

Art clapped drawing everyone to him again, "It seems we've reached a small agreement," his dark eyes searching the faces of the leaders around him,"Yes?" When no one argued that, he continued, "Now, distribution? Naddok, since it was your plan. . ."

"We split settlement responsibilities, every tribe supplying a few towns in NCR territory. Easy enough. I'm more worried about the creation of these chems. . . I'd offer to use Bullhead, far enough away to safely make them without prying eyes. But it'll take time to make that happen. I have a few ideas to get that started. . ." At least they were moving in the right direction. This was actually going better than he thought.

(Outside the Atomic Wrangler)

The place was no different than Bullhead and lost its appeal, the frozen suburbs traded for the lifeless hollows of larger buildings. The early morning had shielded its pocks and scars the dimness had hidden, and it was still a largely lawless free-for-all zone. That and they no longer were the locals, and the locals didn't seem bothered, making it abundantly clear that while their presence was tolerated, it wasn't exactly welcome. The sneers, and dirty looks, the way they suddenly had wandering hands, their heat, combined death glares. With a hundred plus riders, nobody was dumb enough to cause a stir even with the locals having a numbers advantage over the Khans.

It was because they weren't united either. What would've started as a Khan kill-fest, would've ended in backstabbing and friendly fire. So they stowed their pieces, for now.

Nick was sitting across the building from the old casino, the building mostly intact from the outside. Khan riders milled around him, while his eyes switched from one group to the next. Most were merging up in two or threes, sometimes more. Like brahmin. The snippets of conversation he could pick out seemed like a vent to the anxiety from that ride into town, it'd been hard to ignore such a definitive challenge. To be frank, if it weren't for his kin, he wouldn't feel safe here. Kind of why he kept his back to the wall, his rifle loaded and resting next to him with his pack. These people were raiders, even his own people, and no fancy name was going to change that. Most raiders were scum out of principle. They had their own little codes and differences and culture, if you could call it that.

The Khans were the same, with its own codes. With a hierarchy similar to biker gangs back in the old days. Made them no different though, they were killers. Even him now.

But he was getting lost in thought, his eyes searching for Alban, hitched to a broken window pane among some others. The third time in ten minutes. If things broke down, it would be trouble getting back to Alban. It was a building away, and he sure as shit wasn't about to ditch his horse.

A piece of Bighorn jerky bounced into his lap, Chance was leaning against the wall, gnawing on a separate piece, but not looking at him. The way he was eyeing everything made him wonder if he was having the same dilemma.

"Here," he said, shrugging his shoulders, he knelt down to sit on the balls of his feet. "I know its a bore waiting around, but the bosses need to talk things over. Might even turn out we head back home and it'll be back to normal for a while." Even as he said that, his eyes remained ever alert to the people beyond their crowd.

"I don't think Naddok would bring us out here and not get something done." he said, looking out to all the people around them again. "No. I'm worried about them. Guns in the idle hands of idiots with ego. The bosses best choose soon."

"How insightful, for a little shit. That's what I figured when I saw you sitting here all serious. Nice 'scope eye,' by the way."

Nick smiled, looking over at the teen, "Whatever, Chance. . .," looking straight again, he thought about his talk with Fergus the other day. His uncle was intentionally keeping him in the dark. That was something he came to expect after the blonde-khan beside him gave him the same answer, the annoying sound of silence. He said they weren't to be told anything involving what they would do over the course of their trip, only when it was time to do it. Maybe background info was another thing, after all, Fergus hadn't mind sharing that. "Fergus told me some about who we're meeting; The Khans are further northwest on the other side of New Vegas, but there's the Slither Kin, Boot Riders, and the Sawneys, too."

Chance nodded his head, the boy liked to ask questions, just like his brother. Just like his father. It was good, asking questions. There just were some he couldn't answer, "The Slither Kin are notoriously brutal in behavior. I mean, we may be savages in battle but they're more like animals. They have a slave trade they export out east. The Boot Riders are more like us in some respects. They got some honor to them, I kind of like them."

"And the Sawneys?"

"Cannibals."

"Oh," Nick voiced aloud, surprised. His face quickly morphed into disgust, more than a little disturbed to know that. "That's gross."

"Yeah, survival means anything goes in the wasteland. Remember that most won't care you're some kid." For some that just meant being cold, heartless and brutal. To your enemies and sometimes to your allies. In the wasteland you only looked out for number one, groups doing what they feel they must to continue. Cannibalism was one such step. People like that were never welcome back west. Chance could still remember his first raid; riding into some backwater settlement on the edge of the NCR frontier. There had been a burnt down shack sitting yards away. If you ran thirty seconds and you were there. Crumpled within its frame and it's roof buckled, the building was through. But from some of the more sturdy beams to survive the blaze, three bodies hung. A Yield sign sat in reverse across ones body, 'Cannibals,' was scribbled in runny black paint.

Needless to say that the small NCR detachment weren't happy to see them neither.

"Hey look," Chance heard, glancing down to see where Nick was pointing. Following his line of sight, he watched as people began to exit from the Atomic Wrangler.

Quick to join them was Jessup and McMurphy, running up to them to find out what was going on. "Think they made a deal," McMurphy asked, "I'd like to see the NCR deal with us then."

"Really, I don't think those NCR are too tough." Jessup followed up, cracking his knuckles for effect.

"Right up until you go and get more than you bargained, right Jessup." Nick cut in, before they went and got egos of their own, "Like Bessie?" The glare he got in return let him know his jab had been successful.

"Hey, shut it," Chance cut in himself, glaring at him with a warning, "Naddok's coming."

True to his word, Naddok and Papa Khan stepped from the building with Fergus, Bren and the rest of the Road Captains important enough to be in the actual meeting. Nobody was arguing and threatening to kill anybody, so that was a good sign. Soon enough, every khan was gathering around ready to hear their marching orders.

"As things stand," Papa Khan started, "we currently stand as allies with the three native tribes, and violence perpetrated will be held to the individual responsible, no matter their affiliation, and we will not defend you should you be in the wrong. Understand that these allies stand only to benefit themselves, don't give them your back." That got some grumbles of agreement from the men and women standing about. "We've come up with an action plan, so here it is," Papa Khan called loudly, insuring he'd only have to say this once, "We are separating into three groups. Group one will accompany Naddok; he will continue small raids along the territories edges with the Boot Riders and Slither Kin, testing the NCR's readiness. Group two, will stay here with me, leading our efforts, pooling supplies and making use of the Followers of the Apocalypse. Learn all that you can. Group three will follow Fergus to Shady Sands, more details on that for those I decide go. For now, disperse until your Road Captain assigns you."

Rounding up his personal entourage Papa Khan and Naddok dismissed the throng of leather-clad tribesmen, from the thinning cluster Nick was approached by Fergus. "Come with me," was all he said, and Nick was quick to comply, waving bye to Chance as he did. They walked together to their hitched horses. Fergus raked his fingers through his beard, "You were going to be staying here, under Papa Khan's supervision, but you're coming." He already knew the boy wasn't going to like being told to stay behind, which is why he had the prospects assorted by who'd need it. The boy knew how to read and write already.

"So what changed?" Nick asked, replacing his rifle in the saddle bag for it.

"Practicality."

The boy scowled hard, turning away from his elder to glare at some fluttering garbage. Since he didn't want be a little more honest, he changed the subject, "So, what's in Shady Sands? Isn't that the NCR Capital?"

Fergus untied his horse, Doe, a buckskin standardbred. "It is. But, an associate to one of the Families of New Reno is there. We need to make contact." He mounted his horse swiftly, "That's all you get until I give you a task."

"How far is that, and wouldn't it be stupid for a bunch a khans to wander into their Capital?" Nick tried to stress. Okay so even if its just to meet a contact, Nick knew for certain they weren't going to be treated like those had in Hoover.

"Oh it's a trip we're taking here, I'd say. One-fifty, a hundred sixty miles, give or take. It'll take us six days, with an even pace, so make sure you have everything. Grab some ammo, if you need it, all prospects get ammo, but there's limits. Reach it, and you scrounge your own until the limit resets."

"You just ignored the whole second half of that."

"I did, because I have a plan," he said, winking, "And it'll work."

Nick just stared as Fergus trotted off, "Yeah, thanks Uncle." Only thing now was to pack, and, well, to go check out the ammo wagon, he guessed.