CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE EARLY DAYS OF THE MOJAVE AUTONOMOUS ZONE. BY DESERT RANGER CARACAL.
LOCATION: MOJAVE OUTPOST.
DATE: MAY 7 2282.
TIME: 9:31 AM.
TEMPERATURE: 96°F OR 35°C.
The NCR's rapid retreat from the Mojave was unexpected, especially on the orders of the revered General Oliver. Most of what they had brought to the Mojave was left behind, weaponry, radios, food, water, transports, even soldiers. With the soldiers left behind, a few were mere deserters but most of them had gone AWOL and joined the Free Mojave Forces, especially the mutants.
Vulpine, lupine, and felid alike were all quite happy to abandon their former ties to the NCR and follow Joseph's vision for a free Mojave. Some out of a vision of mutant superiority that Joseph promptly stomped out when he found out of it, others out of the desire to make amends for the NCR's failures, but most just wanted to live knowing they'd be treated fairly by their peers.
Mutant, human, or otherwise. As such, the militia was keen to make sure this did occur, and promised fair and equal treatment to all of its members, and made good on this promise. While the Mojave adjusted to the radical change in power and all that came with it, some things remained rather similar to how they were before.
The Mojave Outpost, the NCR's main gate from California to the Mojave was still full of bored soldiers who were twiddling their thumbs, playing Caravan and generally trying not to get blind drunk while stationed there. Except there were some changes, like patrols to keep local Wildlife in check, and an emplaced securitron to help with potential assaults.
It wasn't that much though. At least most of them had done this before, being Ex NCR and all. One such Ex NCR soldier was a caracal who had reportedly met Joseph and Six at the Lucky 38 after they'd met with Mr House, and even shook the ranger's hand. His bunkmates at the time and even some eyewitnesses were clear in saying that this was the case, but it wasn't enough to bother Joseph or Six with.
Not like it mattered much, nobody here cared if it was true or not. Besides the caracal it happened to that is. Currently, he was focused on keeping himself somewhat sane as he reassembled his Service Rifle after giving it a good clean. After quickly reloading it and putting the cleaning kit back in the buttstock, he got up and looked over to the roof of the barracks.
Three of the FMF's snipers were there, two overlooking the road to Nipton, and the other one keeping the Long 15 in check. Shrugging to himself, he walked up to it, then up the ramp to the top of the roof. Seemingly melted into the concrete roof, the snipers were clearly used to this already.
All of them were human, each of them with some scars from combat. The one looking over the Long 15 pulled away from the scope, stretching slowly as he began to look over to the interloper.
"Well it's about time for my brea... Jack what the hell are you doing up here?"
"Sorry Allan, but I'm bored out of my damn mind and need something to do."
Allan sighed gently, the well tanned, barely shaved, grizzled white man got back to looking the Long 15 over, thrashing his luck mentally.
"Well if you want something to do, how about you get all of us some water and then find Rodger for me? He's supposed to take my position in a few minutes so I can get a nap in."
"I won't be long!"
Jack ran down the ramp quickly, pleased with the chance to help the snipers out and alleviate some boredom on their part. Getting the water was trivial, four bottles from the canteen in the barracks only took a minute, and as he exited the barracks, Rodger came in view. He was bent over, emptying his guts out by the picnic tables.
The lighter tanned, unblemished newer sniper was nearly buckled over on the table, his messy blonde hair speaking of a hectic week. Approaching slowly, Jack gave the sniper some space before stopping.
"Hey Rodger, Allan needs you to take his spot ASAP."
"Gaaghh... Fuck me, guess I can't avoid it for too long."
He stood up straight, taking a few shaky steps before taking some normal ones. Before Jack could lead him back, the sniper yanked one of the bottles out from his arms and opened it up. Rapidly and sloppily chugging the refreshing contents of the glass bottle, he barely noticed the disdainful look on the caracal's face till he'd finished the bottle with a groan.
"I was going to hand that over to you, you realize."
"I needed it as soon as I could get it in me, that Barrel Cactus snack I had was hellish till I let it out."
Shrugging slowly, Jack lead Rodger up the ramp, watching him all the while till both of them were on the roof. Grabbing a bottle, he turned to Allan hastily.
"Hey Allan, I'm ready to take your spot."
"At last."
Jack quickly handed the water off to the snipers overlooking the Nipton passage, before giving Allan his water. As he got up, he opened the bottle up and began to slowly drink up, savoring the life bringing liquid he so desperately needed after hours of watching sand in the sun. Just as Jack was beginning to walk back down, his ears caught a rather alarming question.
"Hey Allan, is the Long 15 supposed to have an NCR patrol coming down it right now?"
The sniper chugged down the last of his water before grabbing some nearby binoculars and aiming them at the Long 15. It wasn't a patrol Rodger had caught approaching, but a goddamn Company at the least, possibly even a small Battalion. It even had an APC with a medium cannon on top.
"Shit, looks like the NCR's trying an invasion. Jack! Alert everyone you can and get behind some sandbags, we've got a fight ahead!"
The caracal bolted, immediately rushing into the barracks and screaming out.
"The NCR's trying to invade, get ready ASAP!"
Running out before anyone else, he darted around the base, screaming the exact same message till he felt that everyone knew what was coming. The four snipers were all aimed right at the old highway, warriors rapidly found cover after getting their guns, and prepared for the oncoming shit-fest that was about to hit. A minute passed, and it began to feel like a potential prank that Allan had pulled on the base.
Tired of the sniper's bullshit, an Ex NCR soldier got out from behind cover and began to walk over to the barracks. He was an average height asian man, tanned thoroughly from years of loyal service to the republic. Brandishing a 9MM handgun, he held it firmly as he stopped close to the barracks.
"Hey fuckhead! I know you're bored like the rest of us but this is too damn far! The NCR ain't coming to invade without a declaration of war or anything like that! So let's just get back to our positions and-"
He stopped immediately, the whizzing above two men's heads hit the ranting man in the heart and made him realize how wrong he was. A 5.56 round from a nearby NCR soldier hit him right in the heart, and made him the first casualty of the battle. As his body fell, the last thing he heard was a sudden din of gunfire as the base turned into a frenzied box of spitting bullets.
The securitron didn't waste any time as it opened up and let those missiles out, emptying itself of them in mere seconds. The explosive barrage was devastating as it obliterated half the front line with ease, and blew up the lone APC. The grenade barrage that followed was soon stopped by the one shot the APC's cannon could make, as it hit the securitron's arm and caused a chain detonation that blew the entire unit apart.
While the horrifying shrapnel show happened before both the NCR and FMF warriors, the snipers were busy looking for the highest authority they could see. The bloodbath they were knee deep in wasn't what they wanted, and the sooner it could end, the better. No luck unfortunately, so far.
Jack currently was behind sandbags, firing steadily at the shoulders and arms of NCR soldiers to take them out of the fight without killing them. Most of the FMF troopers were desperately trying to prove to their former ally that they didn't want this, and really wanted to stop. Especially the Ex-NCR ones.
The snipers were busy shooting every NCR officer they could find in an attempt to try and send the NCR invasion force into a chaotic rush back to their homes. Seemingly fruitless, Allan began resigning himself into this being a several hour long situation, till Rodger shouted.
"The fucking general in charge of this shit's appeared! I'm gonna try and hit him in the dick to tell him to retreat!"
True to his frenzied shout, the general in charge of this was out in the open, looking at the situation from a seemingly safe position. He zoomed in till he could see the general's body closely, and got ready. Pulling the muzzle up high and taking the drop into account, Rodger sucked the air into his lungs tight.
Several painstaking seconds passed before Rodger pulled the trigger, and it took him a few more to see if he hit the general. The unknown general was hit! Whether in the legs or genitals, it didn't matter, he was shouting out something fierce.
Two soldiers ran over to him and picked him up, carrying him out as a wave of immediate retreat silenced the gunfire from both sides. The FMF warriors began to cheer immediately, two of them shooting in the air out of relief before outright hugging each other.
The NCR was desperate, and by extension, left behind most of the wounded, and dead men who took part of the operation. As the last retreating soldier blipped out of sight, the FMF realized the cleanup job ahead of them, and that the grim job ahead wouldn't be pretty.
Jack was one of the first to truly understand, staring at a mangled trooper's corpse. The stench of death was swept over from the NCR by a wind gust, causing the base to go dead quiet. A few coughs later, and the warriors began to get up.
"Fuck me. We gotta radio for Followers support ASAP."
Jack gently stated, turning to the main base as he began walking over to it. A pair of FMF warriors left the base, having hastily obtained a notepad and pencil each. It took them two hours to definitively determine how many dead and wounded remained outside the Mojave outpost, though the Securitron's missile barrage made the former far harder.
They finished the count just after a small group of Followers and FMF medics came to the base, and had a rather grim count. 54 dead, 90 wounded for the NCR. 9 dead, 18 wounded for the FMF. Wounded NCR soldiers were rapidly brought in for treatment, brought to impromptu beds on the outside and in unused cattle pens. The medics were quickly overwhelmed by those who needed help, but did the best they could for their comrades, and their enemies.
They may have tried to invade, but they were still humans and mutants who needed treatment. That, and if they were shot the NCR would have added fuel for a war. Burying the dead on the side of the road was a much more grim task than anticipated, but the soldiers who took it made sure that every scrap of flesh and fabric was properly put into a grave.
Mistakes were inevitable, but every body was buried and marked with a wooden marker, denoting them as casualties of the failed invasion. All in the hope of ensuring the NCR soldiers who came next reconsidered invasion, if only due to their previous failure.
After the NCR found out, Joseph and the other FMF commanders received a good few threats of imminent invasion and execution for their resistance. The FMF took none of it, and shrugged it away. The NCR's own issues came and bit them hard, as the saber rattling came to an end for the moment. For Joseph, it was a relief. He had his own issues that he wanted to handle sooner rather than later. Namely potential legion invasion, and the resurgence of Slavers in the Mojave.
LOCATION: VAULT 3.
DATE: DECEMBER 31 2282.
TIME: 11:21 PM.
TEMPERATURE: 23°F OR -5°C.
The past year had been an absolute flurry of emotions and chaos that seemed completely impossible to survive, let alone thrive in. Yet thrive the FMF had, in spite of the early months being brutal. A failed NCR invasion proved to be enough for a good chunk of the Followers to leave the NCR. Their arrival helped bolster the overwhelmed followers present, and ensured they could keep afloat.
The Legion died as a major threat, Caesar's death was the start of a wedge driving the Legion's military separate from the Legion's government. With the loss of the dam, hell broke loose two weeks later after an attempted assassination on Legate Lanius.
Its failure prompted him to attempt a purge, and a civil war began. With that, the militia turned its worries away from the Legion, and the NCR after they turned their focus on ensuring they could survive a potentially upcoming famine.
The lightened situation helped dramatically, as Joseph handed leadership duties to Russell. The cheetah did well, making sure that rebuilding went smoothly while Joseph and the fifty best warriors went off to take care of the Mojave's slaver problem.
At least eighty percent of the slavers were wiped out within the first month and with brutality they never expected, with Joseph further securing his name as a nightmarish anti-slaver. To him, it was much like reliving the Desert Ranger raids on slavers, but with him in charge. The next two months were frustratingly quiet, as slavers evaded the ranger and his warriors. Till one gang got too cocky and stayed the night near Nipton's shore.
It got even worse for the gangs after an old talking albino deathclaw from Vault 13 herded two slaver gangs into a circle pit of despair in exchange for a group of intelligent deathclaws settling in Quarry Junction. Happy coincidences came steadily for the militia, as Joseph's slaughtering proved to be rather successful.
What had seemed like an easy place for slavers to get big money from, if not expand their power further had turned out to be open season on their lives. The few who had tried to escape to Legion territory ended up rotting in the Colorado, and those who tried running to the NCR were shot dead by both FMF warriors and NCR Rangers. All in all, Joseph got exactly what he wanted by the end of the year, with the exception of one gang.
The Gales were a newer gang hailing from the Utah territories, one that Joseph seemed to have some recollection of, but couldn't quite grab in his mind. Regardless, he was currently dead set on finding the bastards and putting them in the dirt. So dead set that he was in the meeting room with Russell, Rachel, Rodriguez, Deborah, Isaac and Six plotting the best plan of attack for taking care of the Gale Gang.
All this while most of the other vault inhabitants, and Mojave in general were anticipating and celebrating for the soon to come New Years Day. Joseph's eyes were pinned right on a newly printed map of the Mojave, looking it over for places they hadn't touched. While Isaac, Rodriguez and Russell were debating specific movement patterns and the logic that the Gale gang may be utilizing. Six, Deborah and Rachel were also doing the same thing, while keeping a firm ear to the radio.
All this was soon interrupted though as the meeting room's door opened right up, and one of the warriors stepped right in. Holding a bottle of half drunk wine, he leaned on the doorway as he gave a sloppy smile to the inhabitants.
"Cmon! Party's really picking up now, y'all oughta get some drinking in before it's too late."
"We're busy, we'll come down later."
Russell quickly said, his eyes still pinned down on the map. Blinking slowly, Joseph looked up at the clock before nodding.
"Ah hell, let's relax. We've been at this since noon and we haven't been any closer to figuring out their next hideout since three."
Slowly standing up, the rest of everyone else in the room began to follow suit. Rodriguez, then Isaac, Rachel, Deborah, Six, and lastly Russell stood up and stretched slowly.
"Hell we might find out from some drunk scout's ramblings at this rate, besides, I've been looking for an excuse to uncork that 2077 dated wine and today's gotta be a good day for that."
Rodriguez was the first to make his way out the door, and everyone else soon followed. As they entered the rec hall, the already celebrating warriors, civilians and general people there cheered as the seven of them came in. The partying soon commenced, especially when the aforementioned wine was opened up and tasted by everyone who got the chance. Granted, it wasn't exactly what they'd wanted.
From wine, to vinegar then into a rancid mucilage. Barely drinkable, nobody who tasted it enjoyed the flavor or texture. Especially the drunker folk there who had to run off to heave out the contents of their stomachs violently. Otherwise the party proved to be a hit.
Joseph got to enjoy the fresh air in the cold open night for once. Russell, Rodriguez and Isaac all tried to synchronize taking vodka shots perfectly, and succeeded after they'd gotten a nice buzz from it. Subsequent attempts resulted in them getting nearly blackout drunk before their next success.
Deborah, Rachel and Six all discussing funny little things that had happened over the past year, such as radio chatter between bases over petty little issues, and how the Kings pranked the FMF patrols that came through Freeside every so often.
Other discussions in the rec hall involved the intelligent deathclaws who had helped Quarry Junction become a proper little place for deathclaws to exist, the adjusting that towns had done to the FMF's ideals and decisions, and how the militia's work really was beginning to pan out. The discussions ended briefly as midnight came, and the new year entered accordingly.
Raucous celebration and general chaos took place for a few minutes till the excitement faded away. As the night went on, beds filled up with drunken and generally exhausted sorts, with the last one going to bed around three in the morning. As the hungover woke up when the sun hit, some of them tried to find some more alcohol. They found only one beer was left out of the whole supply, and the year began on a generally rough note.
Joseph, and all of the other non hungover members of the FMF had to help them get out of their hangovers, and for the day ahead. Even as the excitement over the new year faded, the Free Mojave Forces was ready for what was to come. Especially eliminating the last slavers in the Mojave wasteland.