Chapter 60: Unchecked Variables

Emma stood before the giant screen, staring at the vacant smiling face looking back at her. Having made herself rather comfortable in her new home, her mind went back to the old days, back when she had another name and real skin in the game. You know, like skin. A con-woman who operated out of Kansas City before moving further west, she had made a small fortune swindling rations and fuel and selling it upcharged to disconnected "survivalists" in their bunker-mansions. It was a sweet gig until the bombs actually landed, but at least she knew great places to find fuel and food afterwards, after her flesh decided to stop rotting.

She later set up shop in the Rockies, where it was eventually brought to her attention that a bunch of merchants had banded together and hired some of the local raiders as muscle. Curious, Emma arrived to find that they had all fallen under the auspices of a coldly rational and meticulous figure who answered only to Abacus. Happy to work under some real leadership, Emma pledged her services to the figure behind the eyebot, and the next century had been a whirlwind of manipulation, extortion, and racketeering. It was the greatest time of her life. What good was luxury, after all, without the work it took to acquire it?

Jake hiked his pants back on as Dr. Gabrielle threw on her labcoat. In celebration of his triumph over the Governor, Jake had taken to lustrating the penthouse in his own way, by consummating it with his girlf- mistress on any available surface. A few years ago, the young Follower of the Apocalypse came to the Silver Rush looking for a personal loan. What she had gotten was the personal attention of Underboss Jake Freeman, who had taken to "using" the little medical mercenary any way he could. The opportunity to have access to the Penthouse, and with it, the Governor's very DNA, was something he could not undersell.

"Go milk our dear host, Gabs," Jake grunted as he set his tie. "I think this thing is running on empty," he glanced at the device on his wrist. An offshoot of a Pip-Boy, the ramshackle device was a genetic cloak that functioned in a manner not too dissimilar to a stealth boy. Only this device was specifically used to spoof machines who were hardcoded to the recognized DNA. As such, that idiot on screen had no choice but to accept that there were two Governor Lars Perez's running around. God help Vegas.

As much time and energy as it would save, the device could only temporarily spoof the likeness its host for a few hours at any given time. As such, they could not dispose of their host, however much Bad MFKA wanted to. They needed the Governor if they wanted to keep Yes-man at bay, and once the rest of the liquidators arrived, then Vegas would be theirs.

A transmission began to spark through the monitor above. Emma lit another cigarette while Jake swung around the stairway leading to the bottom. Standing beside his partner in crime, Jake looked before the screen and awaited the inevitable surrender of the new rebels.

"***bzzt*** This is Councilor Gannon requesting communication with the occupying force within the Lucky 38 Tower. Come in."

"Councilor, this is Jake Freeman. I'm willing to accept your surrender," Jake announced as Emma rolled her eyes.

"We've only just opened comms and you haven't even brought up terms or demands," Arcade snapped. "Whatever you want, just say it so we can resolve this peacefully while we can!"

"For starters, Councilor, I already have what I want," Jake grinned as he ground his teeth. "Vegas, its defenses, its infrastructure, all of it effectively belongs to me. The only one who can do anything to save himself is the Governor signing everything over to me so we can make this official and easy for everyone!"

"So, you haven't killed Lars," Arcade stated. "I want proof. Put him on."

"Jackass, grab the lop!" Emma hissed as a faraway grunt affirmed the order.

"Who is that?" Arcade asked over the transceiver.

"Not someone you should be worrying about," Jake glared at Emma, who quietly snickered as she stepped away from the screen. "Don't worry, I've only given him the finest accommodations I have available to me," Jake smiled as the super mutant dragged the prisoner from the broom closet. Emma watched as the man in his undershirt and skivvies was tossed down the stairs as the mutant standing above let out a rumbling chuckle. Landing at the bottom, the former Governor was hoisted onto his knees by Jake as his captor began to heckle him. "Say hello to your adoring public, sir," the underboss taunted.

"…Arcade, is that you?" Lars managed to spit out, hoarsely.

"Lars, it's good to hear you. How are you holding up?" Arcade asked.

"Well, they kicked the shit out of me, I've been on nothing but water since they took over, and this kid is pointing a gun at my head right now," he stated as he glared up at Jake. "Probably has something to do with his ladyfriend sucking me dry every few hours."

Jake smashed the weapon against Lars' head. Watching as the blood pooled before him, Lars turned to look back up at his captor. "Heh, you're not getting those back, moron."

Jake prepared to swing again before Emma caught his arm. "He's right. We can't afford to tap him out early," she hissed. Jake abandoned his swing as he holstered his weapon. "Well, here it is, a show of good faith. And don't even think about launching a rescue. The Strip belongs to me. My allies have taken over the casinos, and good luck cutting through Freeside while there's a bloodbath ongoing."

The plan developed by Emma and Jake hadn't merely depended on mercenaries and infiltrators. Over the past few months, Jake had been subverting various members of the Three Families, under the nose of Jimmy Bishop and his father Boss Gavino. He'd spent most of his time working over the typically loyal Chairmen and the elitist White Gloves, and a sizable portion of both organizations had rallied under him and held the rest of their brethren at bay.

Meanwhile, his own organization, supplemented by the vanguard of RMX liquidators, had been fighting throughout the streets of Freeside with the Bishop Family as a whole. Boss Gavino had likely taken shelter somewhere in North Vegas, where he could best oversee the safety of his daughter and her family. While they held onto the Silver Rush and the Atomic Wrangler, it was about time that the School of Impersonation was under the control of a real King.

Dr. Gabrielle climbed down the stairs as she pulled out a syringe. Lars looked at her with a sense of indifference. It wasn't the first time a girl he regularly hooked up with ended up making him regret it. That was probably his problem, he thought as she began examining the needle. He kept going after girls.

The pain shot into his arm as Lars winced, feeling just another bit of his life leave as Dr. Gabrielle never took her eyes off of him, knowing that things didn't have to turn out this way if he hadn't been so damn stubborn. Taking her five ounces, he approached Jake as he held out the device on his hand, expectantly. Dr. Gabrielle dutifully inserted the needle into the receiver, and Jake felt the blood pulsate through his own body as there were once again two genetic Governors.

"Take him back to his room," Jake scoffed as the mutant grabbed Lars by the shoulders and dragged him up the stairs.

"GABBY SAYS MINE'S BIGGER!" Lars taunted as Bad MFKA hiked the Governor over his shoulder. The thing that bothered him most was that these guys thought that putting him on his knees with a gun to his head was supposed to scare him. That was old hat at this point. If they wanted something that resembled cooperation with him, they'd tell him where his damn daughter was.

"…You have forty-eight hours to formally surrender Vegas to me on behalf of the Vegas City Council, Gannon, otherwise you'll have to contend with the northern and eastern crises without the Securitrons and all alone. There is no cavalry from California, and the Marshals are overextended as is. We've run the numbers, Gannon. If I don't receive your answer by then, I will extract the Governor and let chaos have its way with this city. Good day."

Killing the transmission, Jake took a moment to enjoy the night sky. Illuminated by the lights from below, the starlight had been blotted out by the city for decades, he had nothing but a blank canvas before him, save only for the Moon itself. As he silently reveled in his victory, he turned to go fix himself a drink from the bar, missing out on the blue streak that darted across the black void.

Arcade threw down the headset in anger. Another fruitless negotiation. While he could confirm Lars was alive, if not well, the situation had done little to further illuminate any solutions going forward. It was pretty much as Jake described it; the Judicial Marshals were stretched to capacity. Between guarding the Followers overseeing the restoration of the Helios One grid and those who were engaged in combat with the oncoming mercenaries from the north, Arcade didn't find himself blessed with an abundance of options.

It was just enough that he was able to see to it that the rest of the Council was escorted to various safehouses dotted throughout the Mojave, the precise location of which member was hiding where remaining a mystery even to him, as he could not begin to imagine how compromised even the Marshals could be. He had taken himself, Senator Ziyi, the deputy chiefs Craig Boone and Ulysses, as well as Andrea Heilong and Lionel Johnston to the old Enclave refueling station that the other late Remnants had utilized.

Currently, Deputy Chief Boone was on the line with Deputy Chief Wilson, who had gone north after the initial reports of movement in the Northern Territories. Intercepting a number of convoys containing armored trucks and mechanized infantry, Wilson had been leading the local garrisons to stall the advances, though he found himself ceding ground under the relentless onslaught of the dedicated numbers of the opposition. The mercenaries were well armed and decently trained, through Wilson claimed he had identified the apparent field commander and was going to try and get a decent sight lined up. Boone felt his leg begin to twitch, knowing that if he was up there, that bastard would already be dead.

Ulysses, meanwhile, was talking to the remaining staff of the Supermax. The warden and he had gone back quite some time, and they enjoyed a friendly if professional relationship. He could hear the desperation over the line, even though the voice was not her own.

"They overwhelmed the lower levels. Most of the staff was cut off and had to barricade themselves in the service tunnels. I don't know how they're holding up," Christine spoke through Vera's voice as the guards around her fired into the mist.

"Escape is their priority. Butchering their jailors, however vindicating, jeopardizes their opportunity to flee. Escape is vengeance," Ulysses replied.

"I hope you're right," Christine sighed. "One minute everything was fine, and the next the system was compromised. Some of my guys said that they saw one of the newer prisoners running around with what looked like a stripped-down Pip-Boy. They're using it to disarm the holograms and open the cell doors. How did we lose sight of something like that?"

Ulysses considered the information. Another aspect of an overwhelming and intricate plan. Smuggling in a whole device like that wasn't the invaders' style. More likely they had multiple agents bringing in multiple parts, each not enough to arouse suspicion, and then assembled it into the weapon right as the timing was perfect. A thousand cuts leading up to a knife in the heart. The Frumentarii would either be impressed by the execution or incensed by the cheek if they were watching. Unless they were involved, which Ulysses couldn't bring himself to rule out.

"Anarchy is an opportunity for order," Ulysses offered. "Find the one with the leash on his wrist and eliminate him. Without leadership, the mob will become a rabble, rendering containment possible.

"…Oh no," Christine breathed as she read something on her monitor as the snipers began to rally around the courtyard. "They breached Maximum Security."

"…How many prisoners are contained there?" Ulysses asked as a bead of sweat crawled down his face.

"Just one. The Padre," Christine relayed.

"…That answers one question," Ulysses sighed as he ran a hand over his face. "That Padre will declare himself the leader by divine right."

"And smite all who disagree until the rest are cowed into line," Christine concurred. "They won't be the Iglesia de la Santa Sangre, but we don't have the men we need to kick him back down. All due respect, you aren't exactly in your prime."

"None of us are," Ulysses replied, sadly. "…Padre Hex will breech the gates and he will march on Vegas. There is little you can do to stop him. He won't pass the opportunity to burn the den of sin if he can help it."

"Are there any militias on hand we can contact? Anything from the NCR? There has to be a Brotherhood bunker I can reach, maybe if I explain that we-"

"Arcade has been preparing a solution. All Judicial Marshals in the sector have been informed of the current plan. Keep yourself and your men safe, stay on the catwalks and do not engage or interfere with the broader breakout."

"We're letting them walk?!" Christine screamed over the line.

"The Ghosts and Mist will take care of most, but the Padre will push through and begin his crusade. Soon enough, a monster will find himself crossing that old world bridge. We'll have one of ours waiting for him when he arrives."

Andrea walked through the hanger, looking over the empty space. This facility put to shame most of the military bases and camps she had toured during her pressers, and this, Arcade had told her, was just a refueling station. She remembered reading a memoir of a man named Sean Combs who, after a long and eventful adventure across California, had taken part in the assault on Navarro. While not a particularly distinguished combatant during the event, what he did describe was hellish, and she had rarely heard evidence of the contrary from any of the old-timers.

Ziyi sat along the wall with her knees to her chin. Before this all started, she was Senator Ziyi, one of the most powerful figures in California, respected and loved in equal measure by her constituents. Now, here she was. Alone. Helpless. Useless.

From Arcade's console, she had managed to glean some information regarding the status of the war in California. As the Wild Khans advanced near Redding, what the NCR had originally planned to be a stalling action had turned into a slugging match and a grind. With their tribal allies, the Wild Khans had been hammering the defenses of the NCR military, so much so that the brass had finally done the impossible and requisitioned some tanks from storage to be sent to the front lines, in addition to the air support. Everything she heard about that fight indicated that both sides were doing a commendable job killing each other, and if this went on long enough, California would win. She wanted to be sick.

She thought back to Shi-Frisco, and wondered what the people thought of their leader who had vanished. No doubt the opposition was chomping at the bit to formulate an emergency election, citing her dereliction of duty. She tried, really. All she wanted to do was make sure Shi-Frisco was the place she wished she could have grown up in, not the endless pit with tunnels and whispers and secrets. She thought she made the right choice by leaving when she did. Now she was wondering if she shouldn't just charter a boat and see if they'd take her back.

Andrea finally relented and sat beside Ziyi. "…Ground rules, I'm not going to get you off," Andrea announced. Ziyi didn't react. "…And you're not getting me off either." Ziyi turned to the younger woman and made a face. Glad to see some life in her, Andrea sat back and pressed her head against the wall.

"…I thought about buying a vertibird," Ziyi finally said. "Just for myself. There used to be one here, but that got destroyed because of Xiao."

"Who's Xiao?" Andrea asked. "Oh, right. Madame Zhang, I remember."

"…Used to be my best friend," Ziyi continued. "…Then, well, you probably know most of the story."

"I heard," Andrea nodded. "Rough deal."

"I would have died if I was with myself. But they were there for me. She was, at least," Ziyi continued.

"She?" Andrea asked.

"Veronica Santangelo. She found me when I was at my lowest, tried to help me up. Kept that scaly idiot from harassing me too much," she thought aloud with a laugh. "…She was the best friend I ever had."

"…Was," Andrea picked up.

"…Xiao took her from me. From us. Boone and Arcade both knew her, so did the Governor. Losing her was… I never really got over it," Ziyi admitted. She finally turned to look at Andrea. "…You reminded me of her."

"…I see," Andrea looked away. "…I'd say I'm flattered, but…"

"You don't have to forgive me," Ziyi stated, bluntly. "But I owed you an explanation. For a moment, I forgot what I saw with my own eyes, and just wanted to go back. But… there's a lot of things I didn't want to confront."

"Like the lizard, I get it," Andrea nodded.

"…Were he the worst of it," Ziyi muttered as she forcefully kept herself calm. "Hm?" Andrea noticed. "…There's a lot about what happened to me in the waste that I don't talk about," Ziyi admitted.

Lionel came back inside. Having been "tasked" with guarding the entryway, Lionel had taken his new duty with an increasingly sporadic interest. While Andrea figured that even Lionel could realize how uncomplicated guard duty was, he had been coming back inside the hanger every so often to grab a paint can or a wrench or a bucket before leaving and returning without the item in question to find another. Now he found a broom and was twisting the stick off of the brush.

"…What the fuck are you doing, dumbass?" Andrea sweetly asked.

"I kept throwing stuff at it, but it won't go away. So, I'm going to poke it with a stick until it does," Lionel explained, casually.

"What won't go away?" Ziyi asked.

"The flying saucer," Lionel said as he swung the stick around, satisfied that it would accomplish the task at hand before marching out. Ziyi and Andrea looked at each other. "…That idiot is messing with a satellite dish," Andrea sneered as she got up. "Hold on, I'll smarten him up," she stated as she marched after the martial artist.

Ziyi was again alone. Now she found herself wondering if there was a way she could make up for her previous transgression with her position as Senator. Maybe she could declare Andrea's family's house a national landmark and negate the monthly rent? Or maybe she could declare a holiday in honor of Andrea Heilong, the actress who portrayed President Tandi in the biopic, even if the nude scene was the only thing people talked about. People were creeps, Ziyi thought to herself. No doubt a few sad perverts had the timestamp of one-hour, three minutes, and twenty-seven seconds memorized. Probably wrote it down on the holodisk, the savages. Right next to the sex tape that Kayleigh secretly filmed with them which was promptly surrendered by the woman in question and had seen extensive use since, privately.

Andrea came running back inside, her face pale as she began pounding on the doorway. "COUNCILOR GANNON, COUNCILOR GANNON!" she shrieked.

The door shot open as an agitated Boone and a concerned Arcade Gannon greeted her. "We're rather busy, Ms. Heilong, what is so important?"

"Flying saucer," she rasped out as she pointed to the entrance.

Arcade and Boone looked at one another. "…A new kind of bomb?" Deputy Chief Boone suggested. Arcade started towards the entrance, flanked by Boone and Ziyi, with Andrea bringing up the rear.

As they left the station, outside they witnessed an unknown craft floating ten feet above the ground, right under the tree line. A chrome dish the size of a station wagon with glowing lights and a sphere protruding out of the top and bottom. The only noise the onlookers could hear was the soft hum of the craft and the occasional tap of the broom handle against the chassis.

The craft shone out a light that blinded all the onlookers, most covering their hands while Boone tried to level his rifle. It was then that a voice spoke out from the craft. "…GRATINGS AND SALIVATIONS, PEOPLE OF EARTH!"

Arcade realized something. He recognized that voice. He knew what he was speaking to. "…DR. MOBIUS?!"

"IN THE CASING, MY GOOD CHUM!" the old loopy voice spoke up. "OH, SORRY, I NEED TO ADJUST MY VOLUME! AND THE LIGHTS!"

The lights began to dim as the vision began to return to the onlookers. Now seeing the craft, they could see that the sphere in the center housed a human brain. Lionel immediately went to poke it. A flash of light zapped the stick out of his hands, vaporizing it before Lionel's eyes.

"Stop poking me!" Dr. Mobius whined. "Well, let's see how you like it!" he announced as the stick rematerialized from above, falling to the ground and striking Andrea on the head. "OW!" Andrea screamed as Ziyi and Lionel immediately checked on her.

"Hmph, guess I should have carried the seven," Mobius muttered. "Irregardless, I'm glad to have finally found you, Dr. Gannon, I've been trying to contact you for days!"

"Mobius, I'm happy you're back, and I have so SO many questions I want to ask you, but now isn't really the best time," Arcade explained. "…Wait. How did you get back here?"

"Teleportation!" Dr. Mobius proudly announced. I spent the better part of a decade designing this wonderful contraption you see before you. Many roboscorpions were destroyed in its implementation. A revolutionary design I created in my free time, which when you live on the Moon is all the time you have."

"That thing came from the Moon?" Andrea called out.

"…It's a long story," Arcade admitted. "Dr. Mobius, what are you doing here?"

"Hm, I came down to survey the Big MT's previous position. I wanted to specify the right coordinates and narrow down the telemetry so we can return home," Dr. Mobius explained. "Where is Lars, anyway?"

"…Did you say you have a teleporter?" Arcade asked, an idea beginning to dawn on him.

"Of course, this vessel is installed with the most advanced model I… acquired from Dr. 8. It has numerous navigational and defensive capabilities installed, as well as a teleporter for my personal use."

"Personal?" Arcade asked.

"Well, the relay station is centered on Luna, and I have to "slingshot" I suppose the word would be, back between there and my desired destination. That and whatever I chose to teleport. That stick, for example, spent three seconds on the Moon. I would cherish that, if I were you."

"…Moonstick," Lionel muttered in awe as he held the extraterrestrial utility equipment in his hand.

"…You can teleport anything you want? And anyone?" Arcade asked.

"…Well, a living creature processes certain risk. But that's what SCIENCE is about, isn't it?" Dr. Mobius replied. Boone turned to Arcade in abject horror. "You're out of your mind!"

"No, just my physical body!" Dr. Mobius cheerily replied.

"…Dr. Mobius, under the authority vested in me as a member of the Vegas City Council, I hereby offer you a deputized appointment within the Judicial Marshals under the Emergency Powers Act No. 3482, until the manner of the immediate crisis is resolved."

"You've got to be kidding me," Boone complained as Lionel held up his Moonstick towards the Moon.

"…Immediate crisis?" Dr. Mobius asked. "Did I miss anything?"

Excerpt from the Judicial Marshal Basic Training Guide and Manual

The Big Empty: That massive crater down south that we run exercises in. Yes, I heard the rumors. And yes, the hole looks weird. But the notion of a secret laboratory teleporting off the literal face of the Earth is something that can only exist in the schlockiest sci-fi novels. Let's focus on reality, please, and turn our attention to more important matters like fighting mutant creatures and killer robots. Thank you- Gaunt.