Chapter 7: The Battle of Fort Abandon
Natalie fought back a yawn as she glanced over the charts sitting before her. A rough outline of the perimeter of a train junction turned improvised fort turned field hospital turned hostage encampment. Fort Aradesh, now more commonly and somewhat accurately known by the moniker Fort Abandon, had been the furthest marker of the NCR's eastern expansion, as well as the gravesite to its alleged manifest destiny in the direction. Legend had it that it was where the NCR first made contact with Caesar's Legion, by way of an ambitious team of Frumentarii entering the fortress, killing the sentries, and unlocking the gates, paving the way for a cohort to mercilessly butcher all its occupants to the last man.
It would later become something of a rest stop for cohorts travelling west to Hoover Dam, and gradually and naturally fall out of use as the Legion would abandon its dreams of western conquest. After years of abandonment, it would eventually be adopted by the Followers of the Apocalypse to serve as a medical station, much to the relief of caravans and travelers in the area. Or at least, it had been until recently, according to the message they had received from one of Gorobets' contacts.
"So, any thought about how we are doing this?" Gorobets asked as Natalie looked over the reports her Marshals had given her. The Unclaimed Wastes didn't lack for danger, and one didn't have to look hard or far to find someone antisocial or desperate enough to brutalize a bunch of humanitarians. However, overwhelming a fortress run by people smart enough to take precautions was something she hadn't anticipated.
"I got some positive ID's on some of the faces looking out over the walls," Natalie began. "Couple familiar ones, mostly on record for minor offenses, the kind of guys who'll clear out the moment a Marshal is in the area. Pulling something like this requires an amount of brains and stones these guys don't have," she assessed.
"You thinking a bigger player is involved too, then?" Gorobets nodded. "Think it's Legion?"
"…I'm thinking if it's Legion, we'd know," Natalie shook her head. "Doesn't really line up with their MO, either. The Followers are one of the few groups the Legion will go out of their way to tolerate. If this guy is playing with hostages, he wants something."
"Like getting our attention," Gorobets sighed. "This little detour is setting us back a few days. Supplies are thin enough and we can't rely on foraging for things to drag on for too long."
"You saying we should look the other way?" Natalie asked as she looked across the table.
"Didn't say that," Gorobets sniffed. "I see this as an opportunity. The first combined action of the AEG. I think I see how we can attack from here."
Gorobets pointed at two separate fixtures on the western and eastern sections of the fort. The wall, such as they were, were mostly broken boxcars and mesh wire. Gorobets indicated two blindspots between the guard towers.
"I'm thinking a simultaneous hit. I know that the moment these guys feel threatened, they're going to start plugging hostages. So, I get some of the more stealthy-affiliated to get in first and find and secure the hostages. Any of yours are good at infiltration?"
"Harbuck and Bowen are my specialists," Natalie replied. "I let them select their teams and they can get in before anyone's the wiser."
"And how are they for following orders?" Gorobets asked. "I'd like one of mine to lead this part of the op."
"Who'd you have in mind?" Natalie asked.
"Tandi. She's the best infiltrator under my command, probably the best in California. That being said, she could use some full-fledged military experience, so cooperating with your boys will be a good learning opportunity," Gorobets explained.
"For one of your officers, you don't sound too sure about her," Natalie noted.
Gorobets pursed his lips. "Let's just say she's been a warrior for a lot longer than she's been a soldier. I'm not doubting her loyalty, but I want to see how well she's shaved off some "old habits."
Natalie narrowed her eyes. "…Petro, how recently has Tandi joined the NCR?"
"…A few years ago," he admitted.
"And what was she doing before then?" Natalie continued to pry.
"…Frontier politics are complicated," Gorobets eventually surrendered. "Most of her experience with the NCR came from being… against the NCR," he admitted.
"You're telling me one of your hand-selected units consists of a bunch of until-recently hostile tribal warriors?" Natalie balked.
"If they weren't the best, they would be joining the rest of the army fighting the Wild Khans. Probably as front-line fodder. I figured they deserved a better chance than that," Gorobets explained.
"And how reliable is this… Tandi," Natalie asked, the name feeling strange on her lips as a California expat.
"I trust her. Milligan and Wallace both vouched for her before I approved her involvement," Gorobets explained.
"What about Rathmore and Baxter?" Natalie asked.
"Baxter didn't express much of an opinion about her, and Rathmore…" Gorobets paused. "…Is hard to impress," he explained, diplomatically.
"OK, so once the hostages are secure, then what? Wait for a signal and rush the gates?" Natalie asked.
"Sounds feasible, doesn't it?" Gorobets smiled. "Give Baxter and Rathmore something to gnaw on."
"I hope you can rein them in," Natalie asked. "I want survivors. Whoever pulled this deserves to be sent to the Supermax, but not before I know why and how."
She felt herself come to, slowly and painfully. First thing she noticed was that her arms were bound, tied to the back of the chair. Legs were free, but running didn't feel like a good idea, even if she somehow found the energy. She'd been in situations like this before, as part of her training. This, however, with her feet to the fire creating a pit in her stomach that not even the CIB's training could help her overcome. This is where all that acting for the holovids came into play.
She opened her eyes, her bleary vision managing to acclimate to the dim light. The skinny one was circling her like a vulture, knife out as he appraised his little prize. Skinny had already killed a few of the guards, after they had been apprehended and subdued. This guy was just a raider, albeit slightly more clever than the usual. Just like the rest of those guys.
Catching wind of her peeking, Skinny darted to her, grabbing her throat with his fist while holding the knife in his other hand. "Pretty bird joins us in the living, don't she?" he giggled, his scarred lips looking like crooked teeth on a skull. "You look fun to play with. I know I can make you scream. Question is how do I do it?" he snickered as he ran his tongue over his lips."
She swallowed her revulsion. She wondered how best to navigate this situation. If she stonewalled him, he might get frustrated and make a mistake, giving her an opportunity. On the other hand, if she played along, she might be able to wring out some more information out of this freak, hopefully before she had to go full honeypot. She weighed her options and came to a decision.
As Skinny drew closer, a glob of spit landed in his eye. Howling in rage, Skinny pulled up his knife as he wiped away the residue. "YOU'RE GONNA BLEED FOR THAT, BITCH!" he snarled.
The door slammed open, and suddenly Skinny's rage began to abate.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" a booming voice shouted.
"She spat in my eye," Skinny whimpered.
"YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE MESSING WITH HER ANYWAY, DIPSHIT!" the voice boomed.
Skinny was about to reply when suddenly he began to hesitate. He shot a nasty look at her before putting his knife away and sulking out of the room.
"That's more like it," the voice growled as he stomped over to the bound woman. She heard another chair dragged towards her, and watched as a heavy armored glove slammed it down in front of her line of sight. A massive human being, just short of seven feet tall, swung the seat around as his great frame planted itself on it. His chin, as far as she could tell under his thick bushy beard, rested on the back of the chair as a strange floating robot came in behind the giant.
"So, you're Andrea Heilong," the man began.
"…And what if I am?" Andrea said, nervous about how this asshole managed to blow her cover.
"I'm a fan," he said, smiling. "I caught a copy of your last film in New Reno, the Tandi flick. I tell you, you were great for your thirty minutes in the film. Don't know what the whole deal with the sex scene with that Vault Dweller was about, but that was one heck of a monologue you delivered afterwards," he praised her.
"You're a fanboy?" Andrea asked, skeptical and trying to figure out what the guy's angle was.
"No, just someone who appreciates the visual arts and a good story," the man continued. "Also it's rare to meet a celebrity this far out east, but I guess the odds of that increase when you were sent by the CIB, right?" the man continued.
"…What in the hell are you talking about?" Andrea began. "I'm just here to work with the Followers on a mercy mission! Don't you know what a humanitarian is?"
"I know it means something different from place to place," the man said, "and it seems to me that I know more about how secure your network is than you do."
Andrea had enough and dropped the act. Her posture straightened and her eyes locked with her captor's. "You're the one they call Brodie, right?"
Brodie's smile faded, just a little. "Guess your info department isn't such a joke after all. Keep going," he goaded her.
"You are one of the top liquidators of the Rocky Mountain Exchange, and someone my bosses are very eager to talk to," Andrea continued. "We would very much like to know who your bosses are. The RMX is a tough nut to crack. Over a century active and somehow we still have no idea how you guys are run and who really calls the shots. Unless you'd like to tell me," she said as her eyelids began to narrow, seductively.
Brodie stroked his chin. "…Tempting, girl, real tempting. Abacus, run me some numbers, will you?" he asked the eyebot floating next to him. "…Maximize potential ransom for one CIB agent and Shi-Friscan starlet."
"Calculating CIB asset retrieval budget. Calculating cost of mercenary extraction teams. Calculating budget and box office gross of last three feature films. Estimated ransom; fifty thousand caps, pulled from government and private donations."
Brodie whistled. "And, uh, how much would Dallas pay for a nice piece of California ass with a brain full of classified intel?"
"Calculating consular annual tributes. Estimating median payment for prior similar merchandise. Likely buyer; Scorpio Oklahomus. Estimated payment; eight hundred aurei for a living and unharmed CIB agent."
Brodie counted on his hands. "…Hot damn," he grinned as Andrea felt a shiver crawl down her spine. "Guess I know what I'm going to do with you."
"This blows," Rosa griped as she watched Tobey and Carla move out with some of the tribal and marshal troops before dawn broke. "They get to see action and we don't?" she sulked.
"Technically speaking, you aren't part of the army," Jimmy said as he fished out another toothpick. "You're a civvie, just like me and Joe. So, kick up your feet and enjoy sleeping in, like me," he grinned as he turned in his sleeping bag.
"They're going to go shoot up a bunch of drug-addled wastoids and I don't get to participate?!" Rosa growled. "And they'll get called heroes for it? Where was your medal when you drove out the last muggers from Freeside?"
"I ran a gang, a casino, and a strip club. I really don't need a medal," Jimmy explained, flatly.
Rosa groaned. "I need to do something, anything! Too early to drink, can't pick up anything on the radio, all I've got is a machete and nothing to train with. This sucks," she welched.
"Well, Rosa, if you want something to do, you could always join the medical corps like a good volunteer," Melody said as she strolled by, bedrolls under her arm.
"Well, I'm not against cutting people up," Rosa admitted. "Stitching them together, though, might be something of an issue."
"Nothing wrong with making yourself productive, for once," Melody said as she looked to the edge of the camp. "So, how's about helping me with some of the inventory later today?"
"Sounds great," Rosa lied. "Where's your hubby, anyway?"
Right on cue, Joseph made his way to the three. "I need all of your help with something."
Rosa sat up. "You are asking us for help? This is a new one," she said, quizzically.
"Not for my sake," Joseph explained. "A wolf lays a trap with a battered lamb. I would like to rescue the lamb, but it will take all my efforts to hold the wolf at bay. You three will be vital for the lamb's survival."
"Just once, can you explain what you actually mean without the whimsical fake poetry bullshit?" Jimmy snarled.
Melody was prepared to castigate Jimmy's rudeness, but Joseph held out a hand and allowed the insult to slide. "I do not claim to see the future, just a very strong possibility that we are not beholden to. If you do not wish to join me, I understand and you may remain here. It is your right and I do not begrudge whatever your decision is."
"Screw that!" Rosa whistled. "I'm bored and you've given me something to do! Count me in!"
Jimmy was about to protest, then decided it was best he went with her and tried to mitigate whatever trouble she would find herself in. Melody looked to her husband. "…How bad in condition do you think this lamb will be in?"
"The Shepherd guides and heals in equal and necessary measure… but some morphine and gauze would probably go a long way," Joseph admitted.
Melody exhaled, returning to their tent to pick up a medical bag as Rosa and Jimmy loaded up on equipment. The operation would take the better part of the day. No one would mind if they left for a few hours.
Natalie watched through her binoculars as the skittish looking sentries patrolled the top of the wall. The didn't look like fighters, but having a strong defensive position could bolster most people's morale and prospects of survival further than logic. They had food, ammo, and medical supplies, in addition to the hostages. Before any engagement could commence, those walls had to be breached and the hostages secured before all hell broke loose. Tandi had taken her teams earlier before sunup, and where they were now was anyone's guess. Still, she had insisted that she needed a diversion, to which Gorobets offered up the services of the AEG's top diplomatic mind.
"HEY, COCKSUCKERS!"
A ghoul with a megaphone strolled up to the gates, gaining the attention of the sentries in the guard towers overlooking the approach. Standing just out of the guaranteed accurate weapons range, the ghoul continued to demonstrate his ambassadorial flair.
"YOU TWEAKERS WANT TO GET FUCKED UP ON YOUR TIME, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! BUT KIDNAPPING DOCTORS BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL TOO STUPID TO KNOW WHICH END OF THE NEEDLE GIVES YOU THE GOOD STUFF IS THE KIND OF SHIT THAT PISSES ME OFF!"
At this point, Natalie could make out some shouting and rude gestures from the improvised battlements. Putting down the binoculars to wipe some of the dust from her eye, she noticed one of Rathmore's super mutant troops sticking a finger in his mouth. Pulling it out and feeling the wind, the mutant then picked up a mortar, a whole-ass crew-manned mortar, in one hand like a grenade launcher. He reached to his belt where a number of shells hung from his waist. He noticed Natalie looking at him and grinned.
"When the fireworks start, I'm gonna plant one right in the center of the left-hand guard tower," he rumbled.
"I SEE NONE OF YOU SCAVS SEEM TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M SAYING? EITHER I'M USING TOO MANY BIG WORDS OR YOU ALL HAVE TOO MANY CHROMOSONES! SO, HOW ABOUT THIS? I'M THE NEW DEALER! HOW ABOUT YOU ALL WALK OUT ONE AT A TIME AND PAY UP! OR, SINCE YOU ALL LOOK LIKE DESTITUTION IS A LUXURY NONE OF YOU HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED, I'LL STRIKE A DEAL! FIRST ONE TO PUT THEIR TOOTHLESS GUMS-"
A shot rang out, Captain Rathmore watching as the dust picked up a few feet away drifted into the wind.
"-AROUND MY THROBBING DICK GET THE FIRST HIT FOR FREE! ANY TAKERS?!"
"That's my boy," Gorobets said with a grin. Rathmore excelled at bringing out the best in people. The first thing he had ever said to Gorobets back when he had just become a lieutenant in First Recon was that the best parts of him probably slid down his mother's leg after she gave birth to him. The man was as verbally merciless to his own troops as he was martially against anyone dumb enough to fight him. He watched as another bullet snapped against the ground, and Rathmore began a rant saying that if the shooter ever disgraced a firing line under his supervision, he'd be relegated to target practice as an example to the rest of the men, in between all the profanity. Naturally.
During the rant at the front gate, a few of the raiders discovered holes cut into the bottom of the wire-mesh fence at certain junctures of the fort. Those witnesses soon had their throats slit and bodies dragged away. A wild-looking woman peered around a corner of a boxcar, making a quick note of the patrols. She held out her hand and ordered the rest of her squad to halt, snaking her way forward as she kept to the shadows. Her predatory instincts and refined stalking experience allowed her to locate the perfect opportunity. An outhouse with an open door, and a yawning raider approaching it as he fumbled with his belt buckle.
As more and more raiders gathered onto the battlement to gawk like idiots at the marginally lesser idiot insulting them, she took her chance and charged the raider as he put his hand on the door. Her hand covered his mouth as she pushed him into the stall, slamming it behind her. Pulling a knife to his throat, she dug it into his skin. The man, confused and terrified, darted his eyes around as his lips clamped shut. Good for him.
"You have one opportunity to decide whether you live or die," the woman hissed. "Where are the hostages?"
One of Brodie's other guys slipped into the room and started whispering to his boss. "It just looks like some idiot ranting at the shitbirds we got guarding the walls. Of course they're pulling something, you moron!" Brodie hissed. "Grab our guys and tell Herb his boys are on their own. If he gives you lip, plant one in his fat skull, that'll cow the others in line. And get me Gidjit!" he snarled as his runner went out to complete his orders.
He turned back to look at Andrea. "Looks like your knights in shining power armor have come to your rescue, your royal highness," he sneered.
"Oh, so sorry about your ransom," Andrea goaded. "You win some, you lose some, I guess."
"What can I say," Brodie shrugged. "I'm a persistent bastard. My boys found an old access tunnel under the juncture. Something for the maintenance robots, I guess, but it gives us a way out. And guess who's the lucky girl coming with us?" he grinned as he pulled out some duct tape.
As he finished and left his muffled charge to struggle in her chair, Brodie left the room to see the small, wiry nerd he had running tech for him these last few years. Gidjit was a technological specialist, as adept with machines and software as he was clueless with human interaction. He was one of Brodie's best investments, and though it pained him to part with the geek, Abacus had already run the numbers.
"You know what's going on?" Brodie asked as two of his guys went in to secure the hostage.
Gidjit broke eye contact. "Jigsaw. Trojan. Malignant."
"Sounds good to me," Brodie patted him on the shoulder. "A lot of us are counting on you. I know you won't disappoint. And don't worry, you'll get your stuff and you will be rewarded. Just keep your head down when the fireworks start and we'll all be happy, man!"
Gidjit just looked around nervously as Brodie's partners dragged the struggling girl out of the holding area. Brodie immediately grabbed Gidjit by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "I DON'T NEED YOU STEALING ANY OF MY SHIT UNDER MY NOSE, YOU HEAR ME?!" Brodie suddenly snarled. As the spy was dragged down the hallway, Brodie kept up the façade until she was out of earshot.
"Sorry about that, man, had to keep up appearances," Brodie explained as he brushed some dirt from Gidjit's coat. "So, how do you want me to do this?" he asked.
Gidjit turned around. "I see," Brodie said as he wrapped his arm around Gidjit's neck and began to squeeze.
By the time the defenders had realized that there were intruders inside the fort, the Marshals had already secured the medical staff and began to repel the raider's counterattacks from their quickly fortified positions. Tandi, on her part, managed to overwhelm the gate and force it open, leading to an assault led by Lt. Baxter. As the power-armored soldiers stormed through, a shot brought a nearly decapitated guard on the wall tumbling down the side. An explosion rocked the left-hand tower guarding the gate, and the occupants inside who had not been killed stumbled around confused and wounded, only to be swatted aside by Baxter's command squad.
The Marshals had ignited flares, marking the secure buildings, allowing Baxter to terminate the rest of the scattered and uncoordinated resistance with prejudice. Most of these guys were using pipe-weapons and ancient rifles and pistols. It wouldn't be a hard mop-up. She turned around to see screaming on the walls, watching as the ghoul soldiers began climbing atop the battlements after they had followed her and began fighting the raiders off their positions.
As expected, the sudden and overwhelming manner of the attack had broken the morale of the defenders, their lack of adequate training and equipment becoming clearly apparent once their advantages had been stripped off them. It didn't take long for the survivors to begin throwing down their weapons in surrender. Baxter looked out of the corner of her eye to make sure Rathmore and Tandi played nice, their reputations putting her mind at unease when it came time to stop fighting and at least attempt to be professional.
As her men rounded up and corralled the rest of the survivors, separating them between the wounded and the standing, Gorobets and Boone both entered the fort, surveying the resulting damage. Gorobets approached Baxter, extending out an arm to congratulate her with a pat on her arm. "Nice breaching, Lieutenant. Nothing like a good op pulled off by the best trained."
"Sir," Baxter saluted. "In the interest of fairness, I believe it would be fair to state that the condition of our opposition played a significant role in the success of this mission."
Gorobets laughed. "Modesty doesn't suit you. You helped bring the Heavy Armor Battalion off the budget committee's chopping block and fine-tuned it into the surgical wrecking ball I'm proud to fight alongside."
"Thank you, sir," Baxter averted her eyes. "I'm flattered." Compliments weren't something she had become accustomed to during her service. A significant portion of that had come from her disgraced family lineage. The other had come from the fact that she was seen by more than a few of her peers as a "BoS sympathizer," thanks to her commitment to utilizing power armor directly from Brotherhood defectors. The nature of ideology didn't matter for most, as utilizing enemy tactics, however effective, was typically regarded as taboo by a lot of old-timers and their successors.
Natalie traipsed through the prisoners, glaring them down as she congratulated her men. Harbuck and Bowen joined alongside her. "We managed to question a few of the docs before the bullets really started flying. They say these guys first arrived a few days ago, and it seemed like they tried to rob them for chems and supplies. They were told to scram, fired off a few warning shots, and they scattered," Harbuck relayed.
"When they returned a few days later, they had a new crew with them, these guys a bit more professional," Bowen interjected. "They breached the gates and killed off a good portion of the sentries, rounding up the personnel and said they were going to turn this into a headquarters for their new gang."
"They're mostly holed up in the terminal," Harbuck motioned to a central building. "Apparently they've been spending most of their time working over one hostage in particular."
Natalie looked towards the building in question and noticed some smoke starting to billow out of the roof. "Harbuck, Bowen, on me!" she shouted as she drew out her revolver. "Looks like our new friends are trying to destroy evidence and go down fighting! Kids, keep us covered! Everyone else, hold position, and secure anyone who comes out! We're rescuing that hostage and getting to the bottom of this!"
Reynolds dragged the skinny body down the hallway as he cursed his rotten luck. He says the standard things he always did to a hostage and suddenly Brodie got all uppity, relegating him to the shit duties like covering their escape while making sure the nerd was collected by the new assholes in town. Still, this job beat the rest of his options by a wasteland mile.
Dak Reynolds was born to junky parents who stole and killed for new fixes. He left them sooner than he should have because he had been smart enough to see that there was no future with those two idiots, which a future run-in with Legatum Saeva months later would justify. Of course, a waste rat didn't have too many options to fall back on, and he surely would have become just another nameless corpse had he not stolen some food from an RMX caravan.
It would take five years to work off the debt. Joining up shaved the time down to two, and he dug the work. Soon enough he found himself specializing in liquidation. People who found themselves in the same situation he did but lacked the guts to really ascend out of debt would have other ways to escape it found for them. Family heirlooms, possessions, organs, children, the options were all there, they just had to accept it.
As smoke began billowing behind him, Reynolds watched as three figures entered the hallway before him, guns drawn. Reynolds held Gidjit in front of him as he squeezed off a few rounds from his automatic pistol. The figures ducked back, shifting to return fire.
"YOU CAN TAKE THIS SACK OF SHIT OFF MY HANDS, PIGS!" Reynolds snarled. "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" he shrieked as he darted back down the hallway, dropping Gidjit on the floor as he did. He dropped a few cannisters behind him as he felt his pursuers return fire, barely missing as the cannisters began to ignite. The flash and blast covered his escape as he rounded the corner, swung his legs down the hatch, and pulled out the detonator. "So long, Gidjit. Give em hell," he chuckled as he pressed down on the detonator, sliding down the ladder as the hallway above him collapsed in on itself.
The character of Andrea Heilong was loaned to me by previously mentioned author Interfector, and is by and large a reference from his well-written story "Why We Fight." She will be playing a small but significant role in the story going forward, which should begin to take place in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, and if you have feedback, please don't hesitate to share!