(June 23rd, 2269)
It was easier to sleep when the fires weren't being smothered to keep a low profile. Instead of coals and embers offering a low heat to hold back the dark and cool Mojave nights, the camp was alight on our little side of Redding. A lot of the older Khans didn't even bother setting up tents yet, most were either asleep on some animal hide or a sleeping bag, some took to the dirt, head or feet propped up in whichever way was comfortable. The sky over the east has been gathering a decent glow, and we'd all be up again soon. What happens next...
"You mind if I join you?"
Nick rubbed at his eyes as he glanced up from his journal to see Martin, the early morning light was starting to wake up more of the early birds, so most everyone in their group would be up within the hour. The boy's face was healed by now, but he was too far away to see if there was any scaring and the boy stood straighter too.
His own injuries weren't causing him any pain. Not anymore, but without a mirror, it was hard to see what reminders would remain.
Martin had left him alone ever since the talk they'd had in Shady Sands. "Sure, take a seat." Actually, now that he thought about it, Michael and Baines were even keeping their distance, and strangely enough Jessup. The eldest one stuck with the Khans his age, and Nick felt he must've been a bit sour about not being placed with the others. If he actually had an issue, the boy didn't know and either way wasn't bothering him. The other two, he didn't know if he should count it as a blessing or an omen. Maybe they were smart enough to put grudges behind them for the time being.
"Bags like that under your eyes, you should probably put that down for a bit," Martin commented, pointing to the journal in Nick's hold. "Try closing your eyes for an hour, dude." He recognized the pattern, but he wasn't going to just speak on it. He'd heard things but knew it wasn't his place.
"The problems start after I close 'em."
Martin shook his head, but otherwise left it alone and both stayed quiet for a few minutes as the embers popped and crackled before he spoke up again. "You write a lot?"
"Habit I picked up from the Followers." He wasn't lying when he said that. The teachers had told him that practice made perfect, and he knew that to be true to what Fergus had taught him. If it worked with tracking, skinning, gun maintenance, and shooting; he wasn't going to ignore a track record like that, and so, he kept a journal. Wrote in it as often as he could, jotted down things he felt mattered, and inscribed info he didn't want to forget, all around his various little scribblings and drawings hiding within the pages.
"Yeah, that makes sense," Martin had taken up a seat on a log across from the boy. "A woman, Ms. Sumner, I think. She'd have us go through words that rhymed. She'd, uh, she'd pick a new word each day. And we had to write down all the words we could think of, ya know? So, we'd hand our papers up and whoever got the most, Ms. Sumner would give out Nuka-pops." He'd never heard of Nuka-pops. Nuka-Cola, sure, but never as a lollypop. They became a hot commodity real quick, "I was gnawing one for the better half of a week," he said. The glow from the fire revealed a small smile, as Martin stared into the fire, the distance between them wasn't enough to hide the far-off look he took on.
Nick sat forward a bit, stuffing the journal back into his bag. "How'd it taste?" He'd seen more of it back in the Glade, as part of the stock from the caravans who made their passes through, and every so often, when one actually stopped at the Barge. Just because the Khans offered their protection, the merchants still weren't obligated to be cheap. He couldn't have afforded a bottle of Nuka-cola, not for what the caps could've gotten him in other purchases. Some flavors alone would have cost him the same for a meal with water. The pops sounded great. He'd have to see if he could find one.
Martin reared his head back for a quick laugh, "Like shit!" It was almost too easy to read the boy across from him. It was a good thing he didn't fight like he talked, or Martin would've stomped him out at the Circle for sure. That time had passed, so instead, he'd stomp his imagination for now, "They were all old and stale."
"So, why try so hard," Nick asked. Martin had to be lying just to mess with him, no one tried so hard for things they don't like.
"Because it tasted better than nothing," the boy may not speak a lot, but he was to the point with his questions and Martin liked that, and so he responded in kind, "I was sick of having nothing. Not when I had a say."
Nick couldn't really disagree with that, but that line of logic only pulled his mind down a path he wasn't looking to deal with yet. Despite going on three weeks since, his nights were rough enough without actively thinking back on old issues and foes.
"There goes Fergus."
Nick glanced up at Martin for direction and found his uncle shortly after. He was walking in step with that woman they'd met in Shady Sands, the two making small talk by the look of it. All the Van Graff thugs gave the man a wide berth, eyes down or averted, only for their eyes to linger on his back once he passed by.
"That man struts around like he's a fucking Deathclaw," Martin scoffed under his breath. "Look at these dudes. They all got a bone to pick by the look of it."
Nick had never seen one, and from all the stories he'd heard, he'd be glad to keep it that way. The way Fergus walked, it was as though he were strolling through the Barge, and Nick couldn't help but admire the man's confidence.
(With Fergus and Gloria)
Fergus matched Gloria's pace stride for stride as she escorted him through the Van Graff home office. He'd already seen to his men's sleeping arrangments within Redding, thanks to her, and now he had to pay his respects. While not the intention of his group's stop, it would be foolish not to offer gratitude for their hospitality - and no doubt their safety - while in the surroundings of New Reno. If things were to go smoothly, he'd need to remain cordial with at least one of the major families controlling the settlement.
The two were soon upon the main door, two armed guards in that staple 'Van Graff black' combat armor flanking each side. They fisted the handles of the double door ahead of them both and access was granted as though the restriction were never there. Fergus held their scrutinizing gaze as he passed, they had a right to be cautious of him, but whatever issue they may have had were silenced in Gloria's presence it seemed. As soon as the doors clicked behind them, Gloria finally asked, "You think Mother will be happy to see you?" When Fergus turned a skeptical eye on her, that coy smile was plain as day.
'No wonder you two butt heads, you're so much alike,' Fergus internally groaned. "It depends," he said honestly. Tiaret was always a fair woman to him, more so once, but she also had her. . . quirks.
"Oh, yeah? You worried about her mood too," she mused with a chuckle as her smiling twisted from coy to amused. "Afraid of a repeat of last time?" The discontent that hummed from his throat was enough to stretch her smile.
Last time. It'd been years since the last time. "I'd rather not," he said, thinking back to the looks he'd gotten, outside and from the goons at the door. No doubt he dropped someone's friend, or two, on his way out last time.
"She's had time to calm down and-,"
"You got some goddamn nerve," the sudden tone, clear and crisp, startled the both of them. A man was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. Same black combat armor, and a dark complexion much like Gloria's, the look he had fixed on Fergus was just as telling as the others, and he wondered just how long the man had been watching him with that damned blocky head of his.
The half-brother, one of them at least, Fergus met the stare with one of his own, 'Oh yeah, definitely ended some friendships last time.' If he remembered right, this little shit had dogged him for days after he'd escaped the last time. Fergus sized him up again, the boy he once was wasn't who was standing before him now.
"Jean!" Gloria exclaimed, running up to wrap her arms around the taller man.
Jean-Baptiste Cutting, that's right. Tiaret didn't do that often. In fact, Fergus was staring at the only example he knew of. Besides these two, there was only one other sibling he was aware of. He idly wondered if she'd done the same for him, once.
"Hey, Glory," Jean's eyes were locked with the older man's. Fergus was tall, but so was he now, that he could look at him directly. The eye contact didn't break, even when the hug did. "You need your stare fixed, old man, or did you forget where exactly you are?"
Fergus lowered his head as his stare stayed up, both of them ignoring Gloria as she lightly slapped her brother on the chest. "Think I proved already that I don't give a shit where I am."
"Jean, you need to let it go," she warned. "This is business, and I can't have potential clients killing our employees," dark eyes cut back to Fergus, "or vice versa." She glided past Jean, warning still in the air, and neither man made a move.
Fergus stepped first, walking past Jean to follow the girl. He'd won too many fights and killed too many men to feel the need to prove anything to anyone, let alone some guy half his age. His reasons for being here were more important than that. Fergus smiled to himself, 'If it's meant to happen, it'll happen on its own, kid.'
Tiaret's office was just ahead, just paces away when the door swung open. "Please, I'll bring you the caps, I just need more time! Just a bit more, I promise!" A man was being dragged out by some more of Van Graff's men, well, they were trying to. The three goons were struggling to hold his frantic form, craning his head back to plead with the Boss, a debtor that no doubt missed too many payments.
"Take him to Golgotha. Aw, Jean-Baptiste! How convenient," She said, the corner of her mouth crooking up until her eyes fell on the man who stood with two of her children, it was hard to miss that man, despite the tangle of bodies between them. "Jean-Baptiste," she drawled, oh how she loved the sound of that name. It was one of the reasons for what came next, "Go with them. This is not up for debate."
Fergus could tell the man didn't like it, from that flashing glare. Jean took his gripe out on the debtor, slipping the sidearm he'd had tucked behind his back, smashing the length of the barrel across the debtor's temple as quickly as the glare disappeared.
At least the begging stopped.
Gloria and Fergus stepped in and the door was shut behind them. The interior was just as Fergus remembered it; for being so wide, it felt cramped with all her trinkets and paintings, exquisitely preserved lounge furniture, items she was most proud of. She may have sat at a pristine desk, but Fergus knew better. If anything was in it, he'd bet his life they were a gun and a bottle of her flavor of the week. She didn't do the paperwork. She had people for that. This is where those who'd met her either did business. . . or met their judge, jury, and executioner; that man off in the corner, hadn't escaped Fergus' notice.
This was her court, her throne, and her rule of law.
Sure enough, Tiaret was pulling a bottle and glass from one of the drawers. She'd yet to look at him, favoring the bottle of gin as she filled her cup, two fingers tall, as she always did.
"What do you want, Fergus," she asked, taking a sip from her drink.
"I'm here to offer my thanks," Fergus said, bowing his head slightly. She'd always been fair to him, even last time. "We'll stay out of your affairs; I just need to speak with the Mordinos."
The woman chuckled, but there was no humor in it, "You stay in my town, and you want to speak to one of my competitors?" She tsked like she was disappointed in the man, "Are you being bold or rude?"
"Don't think I haven't considered the chances they refuse. I'm sure certain. . . equally beneficial arrangements could be made in that event."
Tiaret smiled wickedly, "Ah. I knew it was boldness." She took a moment to lean forward on her desk, showing off her womanly enticements that had ensnared many before, and Fergus was damn sure there were many more to come. "Tell me again why we stopped being so sweet on each other?"
"Business before pleasure, Mother," Gloria groaned, rolling her eyes at her mother's antics. The woman switched moods on a cap and that made it difficult at times to keep up with her. She was unpredictable, fickle even, and that made her very dangerous for her rivals.
"You're right my girl. I'll permit this meeting with Mordino, and your Khans will be safe in Redding for the time being, but I'd very much like to discuss these 'equally beneficial arrangements' before you go."
"Certainly," Fergus couldn't help but agree. Either way that this goes, he was going to ensure he got what they came for. Bargaining and negotiating were just a means to an end.
(Outside, Sometime Later)
Nick was woken up with a light kick to his boots. It wasn't hard, but enough to get his eyes to pop open to see Martin was there, standing over him by his feet. The sun was up now, with clear blue skies all around.
"Fergus is on his way," was all he said.
Nick sat up on his elbows. Fergus was heading for them, a few more Khans in tow and he didn't look particularly happy.
When his uncle came to a stop before them, the look on the older man's face unnerved him.
"You two got a job. Gather your things."
Martin nodded, taking off to do as he was told, while Nick grabbed up his pack and he took to his feet. "What're we doing?"
"I'm going to meet with the Mordinos. We might need to make a point," Fergus took a moment to think over his next words, "it's time for you to start proving yourself to the clan."
(Elsewhere)
Levi face-planted onto her bunk, finally allowing the exhaustion from her travels to sink her further into a lull. It was another 'retrieval' mission, just like the one before that. Scavenging was more like it, or 'prospecting' for the foolhardy.
She sighed to herself, blowing the air into her pillow. Most of her missions were retrievals these days. They were struggling to maintain supplies just to care for their people. They may not have been openly at war with the NCR, and their alliance against the Enclave had bought some temporary goodwill in the past few years, but her people were still no doubt struggling. How long were they going to continue living like this?
Before she realized it, a young girl her age was barging through the heavy metal door that led to her tiny quarters. "Levi! You're back!"
The girl turned over, facing the new arrival. She'd recognized the voice immediately, bringing a smile to her face. "Hey, Veronica."
The girl smiled back at her, brown eyes twinkling. "Christie and I were wondering when you'd turn up again."
Levi rolled her eyes, "Because you two have been around so often?"
The pout was prominent on Veronica's face, "Father Elijah's been talking about some solar plant called HELIOS One. He thinks it might be a good steppingstone before Hoover Dam."
Levi groaned, but it was muted. She looked up to Father Elijah as well, the man had taught her much since her parents went East with so many others, which was another stain on their current situation. She was too young to know what her folks were thinking, but to hear Damien speak of it, they were a conflicted people. Caught between tradition and adaption. Father Elijah was a hard-liner, and for all intents and purposes, a recluse. He'd been limiting his face-to-face interactions with others in the Brotherhood for a while now, and he didn't quite know how to think of it.
If her brother was concerned, what else was she to think? He was one of the smartest people she knew, even if she didn't quite see what he was saying. Veronica was good with tech, and Damien would look ignorant in a full-blown technical conversation with her, but he was good at reading a room. His decision to trust that Khan-boy was well-founded in the end. She may have had her own thought on it, but what mattered was her brother had agreed to it. If he didn't feel right, she'd have trusted him over her own gut. He earned that.
But still, he remained loyal, so, shouldn't she?
Father Elijah was an enigma, but still the Elder of her chapter. Is this what her parents felt?
"Is HELIOS One worth it though," she asked, her skepticism bleeding through.
"He said it could provide for all our power needs, and that there was a lot of potential for the facility. You know how he is though, never sharing everything? I think it's his way of refraining from being disappointed. . ." Veronica responded, coming to a light defense of her mentor.
Levi felt no better when one of his Eye-bots drifted in.
"Ah, Miss Cross. I'd heard you'd arrived on schedule. Good," the voice emanated from the floating robot. There was no doubt who it belonged to.
Both Veronica and Levi stood to attention, they both knew by now that this was Father Elijah's preferred method of communication these days. Face-to-face dialogue was getting more and more scarce.
"Miss Santiago, I require your assistance in my lab. As for you, Miss Cross, I have another assignment for you. Take two days' rest, and I'll need you to see to it, promptly. I'll have a briefing ready for you."
The Eye-bot didn't bother waiting for their affirmation. It just swiveled around and floated right back out of her room. There were no wasted words with that man.
Elijah didn't accept "no" as an answer.
Levi sighed into her hands, before feeling Veronica's own to come to a rest on her shoulders. Levi pulled her face from her hands and looked into the sorry expression of one of her only friends. 'This must be how Christine feels.'
"I'm sorry, Levi," she offered, but the smile she gave was forced. It was plain to see, but Veronica's position was no better than her own.
She felt like Elijah was intentionally separating them. At first it was Christine, and now it was her. She had nothing to prove that feeling, but it seemed that was the case. Maybe she was being childish.
"It's okay," she finally replied, watching as the smile became a little more natural. "You should go, I still remember his temper for tardiness." Veronica pulled the girl into one last hug before making her exit from the tiny room. Levi took a glance at her equipment; suddenly grateful she hadn't unpacked anything. There was no telling when Veronica would be free again, no word on whether Christine would be back from her own assignment, and the same went for Damien.
A bunker full of people, and yet without them, she felt more alone than out in the wastes.
Some sleep and hot meals were the most she could hope for now.
(The Sand Barge)
She knew she shouldn't be here. She was using a lot of the goodwill and privileges she'd earned from her 'tenure' among the Khans here in Bullhead. She couldn't stay very long, but she didn't need that kind of time, honestly.
Accessing the main gate to the Barge wasn't difficult, and with a few gestures and a promise for hands on training for some of the youth had granted her clearance, and her face was known enough in the territory to speak to her experience as a combat trainer. The difficulty came from getting a moment to slip away and meet with the Elder.
She made certain to keep her word, if only for appearances. It would make this trip easier for her to complete her objective of the day. The youth were gathered together at her convenience and so she spent a few hours to run the kids through the basics to hand-to-hand combat.
The training she provided; it was always something of a personal conflict to her. She knew most of these kids would grow up to be raiders in full, but she had hoped with the direction Naddok had taken the clan would change that. She tried her best to teach maneuvers that were defensive in nature, but even defensive techniques could be used in offensive ways.
It was better to be useful and alive, than stubborn and dead. . .
She set her shades up on her head, taking a rag to wipe the sweat from her face after having finished the last of her lessons, revealing bright grey eyes to survey her surroundings. The tribe-wives were coming together to collect their sons and daughters to bring them back to their tents as the sun was beginning to set. She'd find her opening soon.
As the children began to clear out, she knew now would be her best moment to complete her objective.
With a passing glance to check that the coast was clear, she made her way to the main tent at the center of the barge. Standing before the entrance, she took a breath to sturdy herself, and then pushed aside the flap to step within. Inside, other tribe-wives were hard at work attending to their duties, with most only paying her a questionary glance before going back to their own business. She hadn't yet taken a step further, when she heard the voice of the Elder beckoning her.
"Amelia, I've been expecting you."
The tribe-wives stopped what they were doing, coming to the aid of the Elder, but he brushed them off, "Ladies, I need the room if you please. And mention this meeting to no one." Allow though hesitant, it seemed such a request was not unheard of, as all the women nodded their consent, and quickly filed out of the main ger to leave the two alone.
"Come forth, child. Take my hand, and I shall handle the rest."
Amelia stalled for but a moment, but her stride towards the aging man was confidant as she did as was instructed. His hand was waiting expectantly in the air, waiting for her to grasp it. And so, she did.
"You wish to know what has changed in these last few weeks, my girl," the man breathed out, raspy as always. "And that of your son..."
Amelia could only harden her resolve, but she knew it was for not. This man had a way of seeing things, even in his blindness. She'd learned in her first meeting with the man that there was no use in trying to hide your intentions.
"I can share with you what I had seen, but it's for you to interpret for your own. Brace yourself, for it's taxing and I don't expect you to comprehend it all."
Amelia didn't have the chance to respond, before she was flooded with mental images and a splitting headache; A bull and a two-headed bear at odds. A boy within the shadows. A journey taking him far beyond the West Coast.
She reeled back, breaking contact in that moment.
The images were gone, but the pain remained. "I'm sorry, Amelia," the Elder replied, "but this is the best way to relay what I know beyond words. Take time to reflect on the images, and more may become clear in time."
Amelia grasped at her head, the images still playing on repeat across her minds-eye. It was hard to comprehend, but there were some things that were clear. Namely, her son. He was going to be at the center at the very least according to the images, and now he was gone far beyond her grasp...
"Don't worry about what you can't control now, Amelia," the Elder reassured. "You will get your chance to influence his path, of that I can promise. When that chance will present itself, is what I can't know for certain. But I rest assured that everything that will come to pass, will. "
Amelia nodded and went to stand again, but the hand gripping hers tightened, pulling her back to the Elder's stern 'stare.' "You must remain vigilant, Amelia. The boy has enemies. . . my enemies, enemies to others like me. . . they do not know of him, but they are searching, and I fear one of them has already been within this very camp. There was more to the vision than what I've told Naddok, I'm too weary now to continue, but you must be vigilant. They are more dangerous than any mere man or woman."
The woman didn't know how to respond to that, even if she could voice the words, she only knew the seriousness of his tone, and that she'd have her work cut out for her in the possible near future.
"Now leave me, before the tribe-wives grow too suspicious."
She had to agree. Her time was running out fast, and she needed to get gone and back to the Glade. Amelia enclosed the man's hand within her own for a grateful squeeze, then disappeared from the tent.