Chapter Three
1000 hours, August 11, 2284 (local calendar)
Highway 95
State of Nevada, Planet Earth, Sol System
They spent the next hour or so walking south, back along the same stretch of highway Ryan had only just explored, and he used that time learning what he could about the region from Camry including its major players. He was surprised to learn he had come out right on the demarcation line between the New California Republic, a republic in the same vein as the America of old, and Caesar's Legion, a mighty slave army loosely styled on ancient Rome, who held great swatches of territory to the west and east respectively.
More surprisingly was the fact he was maybe only fifty kilometres from a pitched battle between the two in and around the ruined city of Kingman, a key point sitting on I-40 and several other routes that led deeper into both Legion and NCR territories. Fighting there was, understandably, vicious even eighteen months into the conflict, and according to Camry it had become the next focal point in the war between both parties since their last major battle at Hoover Dam two years ago. Controlling the city meant controlling key supply routes, or more accurately invasion routes that led directly into cities vital to each side.
At one end of I-40 was Flagstaff, capital of the Legion and a mere five day's hard march, and at the other was the Hub, roughly the same distance and a vital centre of trade for the NCR.
Ryan briefly toyed with the idea of lending the NCR a hand but dismissed it soon after. It ran contrary to his plan of avoiding heavy fighting as much as possible after all, and from what Camry had said there was no shortage of work to be found within New California that offered much safer alternatives to engaging endless waves of crimson clad troops throwing themselves against hardened defences for control of a single city. Camry himself had been a courier once upon a time before an ambush sent him down a far different path within the Mojave region, describing the work as paying fairly well for what it required.
Certainly someone as well equipped as Ryan was would find it easy to accomplish, though he couldn't guarantee members of the Brotherhood of Steel wouldn't take it upon themselves to intercept him if only to confiscate his obviously highly advanced suit of power armour. His description of the quasi-religious group painted a sorry state for them however, a once mighty military power reduced to a handful of scattered bunkers after waging a protracted guerrilla war against the NCR.
They were still striking out but with none of the ferocity they had once possessed, to the point the Legion with their emphasis on melee weaponry and armour that was nothing more than old athletic equipment was seen as a bigger threat. It had gotten so bad that even though finding them was still a priority for the NCR Army, most of the work had gotten shunted to mercenaries and civilian contractors like Camry.
'Is that who's behind the disappearances?' Ryan said on learning that.
'No,' Camry said, shaking his head. 'The Brotherhood only kidnaps people if they know something vital, or they're former Enclave, and their method for dealing with people who know their secrets without permission like deserters is to silence them permanently. Publicly, too, as a warning to others.'
'So what links the missing people?' Ryan said. 'If not some as yet unknown Enclave ancestry or vital strategic knowledge of the army.'
Camry offered a shrug. 'That they all went missing during a visit to New Vegas, and were all the monied sort. Bigshot ranchers, successful merchants, socialites. That sort of thing, so the initial thought was they were being held for ransom.'
'But?' Ryan said.
'No ransom demands were ever made,' Camry said.
'And why, if they were taken from the Vegas area, are you down here?' Ryan said.
He checked his UGPS and saw they were more than a hundred kilometres from the city, a good three or four days of walking for regular people before factoring in something like hauling along any number of captives. Having some degree of separation between your base and area of operations was basic security, but three days of travel was nothing short of overkill. That was three days of exposure and three days where your captive had a chance to escape, potentially rendering the whole mission moot.
'Long shot,' Camry said. 'Local legends say there's a cave near here that swallows people whole every few years. Cave of the Abyss, they call it, because there's supposed to be a portal that leads into this seemingly endless passageway that's totally devoid of light and life. Nobody that's gone through has ever come back, allegedly.
'Wouldn't be surprised if that's just a cover story cooked up by some cannibal cult using the cave as a home. Probably helps draw in unsuspecting explorers, too. That's why I asked you along. Safety in numbers, after all.'
'Yeah,' Ryan said but his mind was elsewhere, thinking over what Camry had just told him.
He wouldn't have been surprised, either, if the supposed lightless passageway the locals saw in the cave wasn't the corridor he had ran along in the depths of Gamma Halo. The true scope of what the Forerunners could achieve with their technology was still unknown, meaning he couldn't rule out the possibility they had somehow managed to create a semi-stable portal to a parallel world.
That would explain why the disappearances only occurred every few years, but if Camry's timetable was to be believed then it meant it would be a while before his route home appeared again.
'I don't suppose you have something more accurate than 'every few years' for the disappearances,' Ryan said.
Camry shook his head. 'Anything from between six to eight years, so call it seven as an average. Why? You think it might be related?'
This time it was Ryan's turn to shake his head.
'I can't say,' he said. 'But if a cult is behind the missing people, then there's probably some weird religious meaning behind it.'
'Seven's a lucky number for some,' Camry said. 'Or not, as the case may be.'
Ryan nodded but, again, his mind drifted elsewhere on hearing the number seven. There had originally been seven Halos before the Master Chief destroyed one and its replacement, and the custodial AIs assigned to each of the ringworlds had a number that was a multiple of seven in their names. He also had to wonder if the fact that Gamma Halo's Monitor was apparently absent played any role in his arrival here, or if a lack of information was causing him to make connections where they might not have been any, his presence in the wastes simply being the result of bad luck.
He put it aside for later contemplation, pending the discovery of anything relevant, and continued to retrace his steps along the highway as he followed Camry, the pair of them pausing at the spot where Ryan had traded dirt for paved roadway.
'There's a cave about a kilometre that way that I stayed in overnight,' he said, pointing. 'No signs of a cannibal cult. Just a single skeleton curled up behind a rusted-out coupe.'
'Lot of those around here,' Camry said. 'Wouldn't be surprised if he's been there since they dropped the bombs. Don't suppose you saw any other caves?'
Ryan shook his head. 'Not that I noticed.'
'That's unfortunate,' Camry said.
He pulled out his binoculars and began a careful examination of the wasteland around them, starting with the west where Ryan had indicated his overnight halt had occurred. The cave itself was hidden from view thanks to a series of rolling hills or dunes that started about a hundred metres out from the highway with a similar scene to the east, the highway itself running along a shallow valley that might have once been a riverbed.
After a minute or two of this Camry sighed and lowed his binoculars, shaking his head, and said, 'This was a waste of time. Even if the people behind the disappearances were this far south, there's just way too many places they could be hiding out. Who knows how many caves are within a mile of us, to say nothing of any pre-war bunkers or utility tunnels there might be. Two-hundred people would be hard pressed to check everywhere, let alone two.
'And that's assuming their base of operations is south of Vegas, and not in any other direction.'
'So why come so far?' Ryan said.
'Honestly, it was that legend,' Camry said. 'It just sounded like the sort of cover a cannibal cult would cook up, both to mask their operations and draw in more unsuspecting victims. I mean, it worked on me, didn't it? Who knows how many others came looking for the Cave of the Abyss, only to wind up in a stew or pot roast.
'That, and I felt like stretching my legs a little. All I've done for the past few months was working in and around Vegas so my wanderlust was up.'
Camry gave the landscape one more wistful look ahead of turning on his heel to start marching northward back to Vegas with Ryan following a few seconds later, a roll of the eyes hidden behind his visor.
2000 hours, August 11, 2284 (local calendar)
Highway 95
State of Nevada, Planet Earth, Sol System
It would take three days to return to Vegas, four at a push, which meant spending several nights camped out in the wastes as well. Camry assured him he knew of some safe locations they could use for an overnight halt but on seeing the first, Ryan began to have his doubts.
The shelter, if it could even be called that, was a crudely put together lean-to built of rusted sheet metal and timbers long since past their prime propped up against a rusted-out car and a rockface. Inside, or at least underneath the roof were several dilapidated stools arranged around a basic firepit with just enough space left over for people to lie down. At best it would provide protection from the merciless sun during the day but little else.
Ryan could see more than a few bullet holes in the structure and the lack of proper walls did nothing to regulate the temperature. Already the air was growing chilly following the setting of the sun and across from him, Camry had wrapped a careworn blanket around his shoulders as he huddled close to a small fire he had managed to build and light. It wasn't much but it only had to do its job well enough, though it was also painting a huge target on their location.
There were no working streetlights of any kind in the wasteland, even along the old highways, and with the sun hidden behind the horizon and a new moon above them the landscape was a veritable ocean of black. It also meant any and all sources of illumination would stand out, visible well beyond their limited reach, marking the location as a prime spot for any raiders nearby to hit. It was why the importance of light discipline had been so thoroughly beaten into all members of the UNSC military and Ryan could only hope someone as experienced as Camry had a good reason for lighting a fire.
Either he knew this region of the Mojave was free of raiders or he meant to draw them in, though why he might want to do that eluded Ryan for the moment.
To see how well he did in a fight, maybe, considering their time together had been peaceful, but that seemed a touch excessive. Nevertheless, Ryan made sure his carbine was within easy reach as he removed his helmet, and that his back was to the rockface. Just to be safe.
'So what kind of work are you looking for?' Camry said.
'Anything that pays, really,' Ryan said. 'And isn't too dangerous.'
'Really?' Camry cast his eye up and down the Spartan. 'Guy like you would do well as a merc, especially with that kind of equipment.'
His attention fixed onto Ryan's MA5K in particular which, he had said, was leagues beyond what were considered to be regular small arms around here. Most examples in the wasteland were chambered in 5.56mm with the venerable 7.62mm being relegated to heavy machineguns and sniper rifles, giving Ryan a distinct advantage in combat without considering his Mjolnir armour that, even without its shields, would shrug off just about anything the wasteland could think to throw at him outside of explosives.
'No doubt,' Ryan said. 'But I don't care about making massive amounts of money. Just enough to sustain myself until I get a chance to go home, preferably without exposing myself to major injury.'
'And where is home, exactly?' Camry said. 'You never did say.
'No,' Ryan said. 'I didn't.'
In fact, he hadn't given a concrete answer to any of the questions thrown his way, keeping them vague and open to interpretation. So much so that he had probably painted himself as someone with something to hide like a strong affiliation to one of the various groups at odds with the NCR. The Enclave, for instance, who had been made out by Camry to be one of the most technologically advanced factions in post-war America, to the point the average wasteland might just assume they were behind his armour. Ryan wouldn't have been surprised if Camry was beginning to harbour doubts and planning some move to subdue him, or just pass word along to the authorities there was a potential Enclave operator among them the first chance he got.
His only options to avert this were to either silence Camry before he could do anything, or quickly come up with a plausible cover story. The first of these options was easy enough to accomplish. He could have his pistol drawn, levelled and firing at Camry before he would be able to blink, and disposing of his body was as simple as leaving it for the various wasteland creatures to feast on. The only problem was that Camry struck him as a decent enough guy who had agreed to help him out just a few minutes after meeting him, and as much as Ryan had been trained to kill there was a difference dropping an enemy in combat and killing a man in cold blood.
That left coming up with a good story to explain everything away. Not only did it have to sound plausible, but Ryan felt it also had to contain enough of an element of truth to pass whatever internal lie detector Camry had.
'I'm from a place called Khaphrae,' Ryan eventually said. 'It's not local, I don't think. Certainly the weather's not as harsh as it is here.'
'You don't know where it is?' Camry said.
Ryan shook his head. 'There weren't all that many maps of the area saying exactly where we were, and it's not like I got here by regular means.'
He paused for a moment then launched into retelling of the events leading up to his arrival in the Mojave, albeit with Gamma Halo substituted for a derelict military complex and the slipspace portal for a teleporter. Such technologies did exist in this world if Camry's description of a place called Big Mountain were to be believed, and going by the understanding look on his face when Ryan stopped talking he seemed to buy into it.
'I'm sorry to hear it,' he eventually said. 'Getting dumped so far from home without warning. What are your plans going forward?'
'To stick around in the local area,' Ryan said. 'Earn money to sustain myself. My hope is that the portal will reopen, or my people can stabilise the link long enough to send a rescue mission through for me. I left a message so they can get in touch.'
'Long odds of that working,' Camry said.
'But better than just heading off into the unknown,' Ryan said. 'I don't know where Khaphrae is, so how can I know where to look? It might as well be on a different planet.'
Camry conceded that with a half shrug as he pulled what looked like a bottle of whiskey from his pack, downing a generous measure of the dark amber liquid when Ryan declined his offer of a drink.
When he was done, he said, 'And what's the plan if neither of those options pan out?'
'Then I guess I'll have to call this place home,' Ryan said.
'I can think of worse places for that,' Camry said.