Chapter 64: Abrupt Greetings

"…All Recon teams, check in," Gorobets spoke into the walkie. As he strolled along the base of the mesa, he shifted the service rifle along his back as he listened to the reports. Normally, recon would be run by a subordinate, but another day of administrative work would drive him so feral that Rathmore would euthanize him out of habit. No, after the Circle Junction fracas and having to discipline the man who would have been his direct subordinate for this mission, he needed to stretch his legs and breathe.

Just behind him a few miles away Circle Junction stood, the headquarters of the AEG and their only place of respite since the Res-by-the-Res disaster. With supplies running low and morale running low, command had to do more than issue orders from behind a desk while the troopers and marshals griped over how well the mission wasn't going. So, he decided it was best to join the survey team in checking for any traps Vulpes or any vindictive Liberty Clanners had laid between here and the path they would have taken to escape.

Most of the troops, those he pretended not to overhear, missed home. Despite being an all-volunteer outfit, plenty of the troops weren't without attachments. They had parents, wives and husbands, children, lives waiting for them back home. Not that Gorobets couldn't understand them. He had a wife and kids back at the Hub waiting for him, too. Gwen and Mary and little Izzy. He pushed the thought from his mind as he looked at the mesa before him. He could see, every now and then above him, the outline of a helmet or the gleaming of binoculars. Evidently, the demo team wasn't finding anything, as things had been too silent to indicate otherwise.

He wondered if he should call Tandi and have her relieve him while he personally checked over the survey team's work, but with all the stress and pressure everyone had been dealing with recently, the last thing anyone needed was a micromanager. Chuckling to himself over such a mundane issue, he continued his round beneath the mesa when suddenly his foot gave way to the ground beneath him. Immediately jumping away, Gorobets drew his rifle as he dived, waiting for the explosion that never came. Looking up, Gorobets turned and expected to see either something like a sinkhole or a bunch of spikes protruding from the ground. What he saw, however, filled him with much more concern.

Standing up, Gorobets looked down to see a pair of binoculars on a small stand, right before a shallow impression in the dirt within the pit. Crumbs of what looked to be oats were strewn in front of the binoculars, and a canteen rested next to the binoculars, alongside a few loose rounds and a water bottle with a yellow liquid. Someone had snuck their way around First Recon and the 14th Scouts, found the perfect stalking position overlooking Circle Junction, and it didn't seem like a birdwatching aficionado.

Shouldering his rifle, he brought up his walkie-talkie to report what he had found. As he brought it up to his ear, a thought occurred to him. His previous experience as a sniper indicated to him that whoever had made this hide was, judging by the crumbs and water, still in the area. And they were likely still nearby, probably having only left to use a bathroom as to not attract flies to his original position. This guy was a pro, but even pros made mistakes. And even Colonels could find themselves in poor positions once the original occupant rounded around the corner of the boulder to find a Californian with his back turned to him.

The scouting team made their way to the rocky ridge. Tobey and Larain casually chatted as they kept their weapons out while Dalton took point, the old man being unusually more taciturn than he usually was. Meanwhile, Rosa had snuck a bourbon in her breakfast earlier that day and was feeling rather… bubbly.

"Well, I'm going out east where the wind blows tall! Cause the Mojave Governor used to date my ma!" Rosa drunkenly sang as she bounced around her previous boy-toys. Why Rosa had insisted she join with the scouting, neither could say, but it was rather apparent that Cassidy did not want to deal with her, likely because it had been her bourbon that Rosa drank.

"Is she always like this?" Larain asked as Rosa strutted backwards, keeping the pace with them.

"Nah, I've seen worse," Tobey answered. "Did Carla ever tell you about the quinceanera?"

Larain shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. Rosa didn't even want me around for the longest time, remember?"

Tobey nodded. "Right, I forgot you're just hookup material."

"Look, I said I'm sorry!" Larain exclaimed while Rosa kept singing off-key, prompting Dalton to mutter under his breath about the virtues of silence to himself.

"For what? Rosa or- oh, the whole fucking my sister thing, I remember," Tobey replied.

"She came onto me!" Larain pleaded.

"I figured. Listen, if anyone is going to shoot you, it'll be either Rosa or Carla, and since neither of them wants to, you only have to worry about Jimmy," Tobey explained.

"He still wants me dead?" Larain asked, incredulously.

"He's real protective of Rosa, that's practically the little sister he never had," Tobey continued.

"Little brown sausages, lying in the sand! I ain't no extra, baby, I'm a lead woman!" Rosa continued to sing, oblivious to all around her.

"…You've probably guessed by now, but Rosa doesn't exactly have the best judgment regarding relationships," Tobey pressed on.

"That include you?" Larain had to ask.

Tobey stared at the wastelander before allowing a playful snort to escape. "…Yeah, she gave me the treatment Carla gave you, apparently. Too focused on her ulterior motives instead of what was in front of her, and us guys, well…" he shrugged. "At least we know what we want."

"Guess so," Larain nodded as Rosa reached the chorus. "I KNOW KARATE, VOODOO TOO. I'M GONNA MAKE MYSELF AVAILABLE TO YOUS. I DON'T NEED NO MAKEUP, I GOT REAL SCARS, I GOT HAIR ON MY CHEST," she sang as she grabbed the hem of her shirt. "I LOOK GOOD WITHOUT A SHIRT!" she finished as she hiked the garment up to her chin, revealing a sight Larain and Tobey were already familiar with. Immediately, Tobey and Larain drew their weapons.

"The fuck?" Rosa mouthed as she looked at them in confusion. Realizing that the guns were pointed around her, Rosa turned her head to see a handful of figures with rifles having outflanked them, leaving Dalton surrounded. Dropping her shirt, Rosa reached for the sawed-off strapped to her waist.

"PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN!" A voice called out as recognition dawned over Larain. "…AMOS?"

One of the ambushers immediately set his rifle aside as he got a better look at one of the intruders. "…RAIN?" the man exclaimed excitedly as he bounded down the ridge, brushing past Dalton who was keeping his eyes and weapon trained on the rest of the wastelanders.

Tobey and Rosa watched as an older wastelander in his forties ran up to Larain, looked him over as if he were a spirit returned from the dead, and gave Larain the warmest and tightest hug he had in him. "Oh, I'm so glad we found you! We thought you were dead!" He broke his hug and turned to the rest of the Liberty Clanners. "HOLD FIRE! FRIENDLIES!"

"ONE OF THEM IS A FUCKING MARSHAL!" one of the other Clanners protested.

Amos looked to Tobey, and then to Larain. "…He's cool," Larain nodded. "HE'S COOL!" Amos relayed to the rest of the gunners, who responded by grumbling but reluctantly following the previous order.

Larain looked over his old friend. While hygiene was never the top priority, Amos looked even more disheveled than usual. The bags under his eyes and the slump in his admittedly usually slack posture immediately stood out to him. He then turned to look at the gunners on the ridge. None of them looked like Kenzie's boys.

"…What the hell happened?" Larain asked.

"…I could ask the same question," Amos sighed, the exhaustion in his voice sounding like he was close to tears.

"…Rosa, Tobey, go get the others," Larain said as he walked with Amos to Dalton. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

The group was eventually roused and led to a sparse encampment of exhausted and beaten-down wasteland gunners, many of whom were wounded. The fact that the newcomers largely consisted of Marshals, Federales, and an NCR trooper did little to ensure friendly greetings from the Clans, but at this point, they were too burned out to even tell them to go back to California. As Larain had learned to his horror as Amos filled him in, things had indeed gone horribly wrong for the clans.

As Larain had feared, the conflict between the Liberty Clans and the AEG had come to a head, exploding over Circle Junction. Having no lost love for that facility, Larain listened in silent horror as he learned of the death of Kenzie McGrath and the (unsurprising) betrayal of Vulpes Inculta and his small army of psychotic priests. After having been defeated, routed, and scattered, most of the gunners tried to reconverge once they linked back up with their families and noncombatants, only to discover that their other ally, Braxus, had sacked the encampment, taking some of the women and children as loot. With these hostages, the Pelt-Brutes demanded that the Liberty Clan gunners continue to fight California, else they devour their families instead of merely taking them north to serve as thralls for the rest of their lives.

Dalton said nothing as he listened to the report. He remembered the Pelt-Brutes, one of the last tribes to be taken into the Legion, and probably the last to volunteer to do so. They respected strength above all else, having been wooed and swayed by Caesar's legend. A pity, then, that to mitigate pressure with their logistics, the bulk of the tribe had stayed together instead of being split into various cohorts and maniples for training. A tragedy, it was, that their arrival barely managed to precede the death of Caesar and the second failure at Hoover Dam, therefore discrediting the Legion itself. And perhaps it had been inevitable when one of their number had killed and skinned the centurion overseeing their acclimation into the Legion, a declaration of war that Lanius failed to answer, Dalton thought derisively. It was then that he looked at Larain and noticed something.

For as long as he had met back up with the kid, and in the years he knew him as a boy, Abel often had a look on his face that could only be described as a "fish-out-of-water" type of expression. The boy was frequently over his head, overwhelmed by others and decisions he could not understand. Whether it was getting beaten at the hands of his fellow recruits or watching those who came to kill him dissolve into plasmatic slush, try as he might Dalton could never quite teach him how to stand on his own. Now, though, the look on his face reminded Dalton of a long-ago era. Of a man he once knew, and a friend he once lost.

"…So, we got fifty gunners with us on this ridgeline, and Gavin says he has another eighty with him just a bit south of here, and Hooper says he has two hundred," Amos relayed.

"…And about half of them are able to fight," Larain estimated aloud.

Amos nodded. "And Braxus said he'll start killing everyone they got if he even gets a whiff of a Clanner near his camp. Larain, we start shooting, our people down there get killed. They got kids, old folks… the women, Larain. They got Daphne."

Larain bit his lip at the news. With Kenzie gone, Daph was understood to be the closest thing the McGrath Clan had to a leader, and she was the one person Larain figured would be on good terms with the others. Not to mention that Tia, Willow, Aubrey, and whoever else could still be down there. Those were his friends who needed help. Then he realized that he might have an ace up his sleeve.

Rosa strolled around the camp, looking over the meager sleeping rolls and the pitiful amount of supplies the gunners had managed to escape with. These guys were little more than hobos, just a step above the junkie fiends she and Jimmy drove out of downtown for attacking the locals. Were these the people who really fought against the AEG, the people who Tobey and Carla said their mom complained about so much out east before this all happened?

She squatted down next to a gunner who had some gauze wrapped over half his face as he nursed a bowl of soup in front of him. The gunner eyed her, annoyed but in little mood to fight with her. "…Can I help you?" he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"…What did we do to you guys?" Rosa asked.

"…You guys shot at us, at the Res and the Junction," he replied, without any anger to back it up.

"No, I mean before all that," Rosa shook her head. "I know the Marshals can be assholes, but what did we do that made teaming with someone who called himself Vulpes Inculta look like the lesser evil?"

"I'm really not in the mood for a lecture," the gunner sighed as he put his bowl down.

"And I really just want to know," Rosa countered. "What did my dad do that pissed you off so badly?"

This got his attention. "…Dad?" he said as his partners finally looked up from wallowing in their own misery. Some of them squinted their eyes at her while. Rosa looked around her before letting out a sigh and confessing. "…My father is Lars Perez, the Governor of the Mojave."

A tato was thrown at her head. Rosa graciously allowed the veggie to strike her face as one of the Clanners got up and hissed at her. "Fucking invader! Imperialist! Why couldn't you just leave our people alone?!"

"DAD NEVER GAVE A SHIT ABOUT ANY OF YOU!" Rosa screamed back. The camp grew quiet as Dalton, Larain, Jimmy, and Joseph watched the incident unfold. "…He didn't care about your land, or your way of life, or telling you guys what to do. Every time you guys came up in a meeting, he'd forget all about you when it was over. Dad would let you do whatever you want, so long as you don't fuck with any of his stuff west of the Colorado."

"Until he marched an army through our lands," another voice spoke up. "Sent a loud enough message to everyone in the area."

"That message was for the Confeddies," Rosa shot back. "And to protect me. I'm a fucking diplomat!"

The camp was silent for a few seconds. Then one of the Liberty Clan gunners started shaking as he buried his mouth in his hands. His partner was less subtle, the rumbling chuckle starting softly before breaking out into a full-on laugh. Contagious as it was, the bandaged gunner dropped his soup as he lost control of his emotions, tears welling up in his eyes as he placed his hand on his forehead and pointed. Soon enough, the entire camp was laughing.

"Shut up!" Rosa screamed. "It's not funny! Guys, back me up on thi-" she turned to see Kim rolling on the ground, clutching her sides in elation. In truth, only Jimmy, Kyra and Joseph didn't seem to be taking any pleasure in her predicament, and even Joseph could barely hide a smile.

"YEAH, FUCK YOU GUYS, TOO!" Rosa gave the camp the fingers as she stormed away.

"…Who the hell is that woman?" Amos asked as his laughing petered out.

"She's telling the truth. That's the Governor's kid," Larain answered. Amos stared at his old friend. "…So, you're saying is we got leve-"

"No," Larain interrupted. "We can't afford to pull a fast one when we're already this deep in the hole. Our only option is to sue for peace with the AEG and use them to help get our people back. That means making sure Rosa there gets back alive and unharmed."

Amos spat out some tobacco. "…Fine, whatever you say, boss."

Larain winced. "Please don't call me that."

"Sorry, boss," Amos shrugged. "You just sounded like something we need to hear, and lately we're short on heroes," he finished as he walked away. Larain refused to look at his uncle as he was snickering. "Don't you start."

"If you don't like boss, I was always partial to Praetor," Dalton giggled.

"I'm going to slap you if you keep talking," Larain gritted.

"For what it's worth, I think you're wrong. By the time we make contact with California, it might be too late. The Pelt-Brutes are nomadic, they can cover a lot more ground than a busted-up army and fight with more coordination than a gang of yahoos pretending to be one," Dalton assessed.

"You have any better ideas?" Larain asked.

"My first suggestion is to leave these folk to rot and look after ourselves," Dalton stated.

"HEY, JOE!" Larain yelled. "DALTON WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

"Would you let me finish?!" Dalton replied through gritted teeth.

"NEVERMIND!" Larain added as he turned back to his uncle. "Out with it."

"Your buddy said that the Pelt-Brutes will start wasting their hostages the moment they get a bead on any of your folk poking around their turf. But, with a more subtle approach, I think I can manage it."

Larain looked over his uncle's haggard body and mangled hand. As much as he knew his best days were behind him, he couldn't help but feel that Dalton's nostalgia for his previous life was going to be the death of him. Still, punishing disobedient and treasonous legionaries had been Dalton's bread and butter back then. And Dalton likely knew things about the Pelt-Brutes that the others didn't. "…Think you'll need a team?"

"…Cassidy seems like she knows how to handle herself and keep things subtle," Dalton admitted. "And a little extra firepower could do wonders. Even the freak can be useful," Dalton said, knowing full well he could be heard.

"This is hostage extraction, if bullets start flying, our folk down there are as good as dead," Larain said.

"Just let me see what we're working with, I'll come up with something," Dalton patted his nephew on the shoulder, smiling for the first time in a while as he walked away.

Rosa sat on a nearby boulder and fumed as Carla, Tobey, and Jimmy tried to comfort her. Kyra watched the whole thing from a distance, as she wasn't familiar with them enough to feel comfortable getting directly involved. She looked over at the blind man who seemed to be standing still as his wife checked up with these "Liberty Clanners" they'd just met. The Federales were keeping their distance, evidently there wasn't much lost love between the groups, either. Growing irritated with watching Rosa rant about how she didn't ask for any of this, Kyra approached Joseph and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, could you please hel-"

"JESUS!" Joseph screamed out in surprise. Kyra pulled her hand back, raising both her hands in a futile effort to show him she meant no harm.

"…Christ, my Lord and Savior, how can I help you," Joseph recovered, embarrassed over his outburst.

"…Well, Rosa seems a little agitated right now, so I figured maybe you should go and help her…"

"She'll be fine, we just have to be patient," Joseph interrupted, growing increasingly concerned over the realization that just hit him.

"Well, it just seemed to me that you are the guy these people go to whenever they have a problem," Kyra continued, awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, I can't exactly solve everyone's problems," Joseph admitted. "I try to keep a light touch with certain issues. And people are usually served best when they help themselves. Giving a man a fish and all that," Joseph replied, trying to "find" Kyra.

"Yeah, I remember hearing that little proverb from the missionary school I went to," Kyra admitted.

"…Missionary school?" Joseph asked, the surprise catching him off guard.

"Yeah, there was this church organization that I think came from a place called Our-can-saw that taught the tribal kids some basic things about civilization and other customs, like preserving food and writing and history. They were called the Om-menites, ever hear of them?"

"…Fascinating," Joseph stroked the hairs on his chin as he thought over this new information.

"…Yeah, they were pretty cool," Kyra nodded her head. "…Anyway, I think I should go check up on Amy. She seems even more upset than usual, so I should check up on her and make sure things are OK."

"Kyra, if you could wait a minu-" Joseph reached out his hand to grab Kyra's arm. He did not grab Kyra's arm, having missed by a small but significant degree. Something soft, pert, and firm squished in his hand before Joseph immediately drew it back, blushing. "I-I'm so, so sorry, Ky- Ma'am! It was an accident, I swear!"

Kyra crossed her chest and looked over her shoulder at the preacher. "Father Joseph, I'm so disappointed in you! You didn't even buy me a drink," she teased, not offended in the slightest, despite her blush.

Joseph, still embarrassed but grateful for her good humor, merely disengaged while rushing over to join his wife so he could tell her how beautiful and lovely and understanding she was. Still, the thing that truly unnerved him was that for perhaps the first time in his life, he had met someone he was well and truly blind to. Meanwhile, Larain approached Rosa and company.

"Guys, the clans have a problem. According to Amos, the Pelt-Brutes have about forty or so hostages at the old campsite. I know it's a bit out of your way and there isn't a lot of buddy-buddy feelings between us, but I really need…"

"I'm in," Rosa said as she stood up.

Larain blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. I'm going to force those idiots to take me seriously if it kills me," she growled.

"And it damn well will," Jimmy growled. "We got enough problems on our plate to go off and play hero."

"I'm in," Carla said. Tobey joined his sister. "What kind of Marshals would we be if we turned down helping the helpless?" he added.

"I'm willing to help," Joseph said as he approached, smiling.

"Me too," Kyra said as Joseph immediately turned to face away from her.

"You know how to fight?" Larain asked her.

"I'm willing to help Melody on the medical front, I'll follow her lead," Kyra nodded.

"Well, mierda, may as well count us in," Gael and his cronies approached, grinning. "Been a while since we had a decent scrap."

Kim rolled her eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No one's forcing you, Kimmy," Rosa taunted. "You want to sit this one out, you can be my guest."

"Put a sock in it, kid," Kim sighed. "Blasting a bunch of dumbass tribals at this point would almost be therapeutic, no offense Kyra."

The group started to laugh as Jimmy realized how outgunned he was. "…Fuck, whatever," he threw his hands up. "I'm in, too."

Cass approached the group with Amy in tow. While everyone else was gone, the older cowgirl had taken some rags, slathered them in alcohol, and applied them to Amy's wounds. For the first time since she was burned, Amy felt at ease, physically. "Remember, kid," Cass hissed in her ear. "Tell no one. You're lucky you're a fellow redhead."

"Whatever you say, firecrotch," Amy whispered back. Cass motioned to slap the other woman as she made her retreat. Cass really didn't want her reputation as a hardass jeopardized at this point. But it had been a while since she last had that warm feeling in her belly over a good deed well done. She saw the group throwing a spontaneous pep rally and braced herself for whatever they had decided to do.

"Cass, we're going to on a rescue mission," Rosa said as she approached the cowgirl.

"…You're still drunk," Cass sniffed Rosa's breath.

"Larain says we can fix the fuckup that happened while we were away and put a good word in with the AEG. Don't know about you, but I'm down for putting out the fire someone else started. A nice little return present when I join back up with the army," Rosa smiled and shrugged.

"Hhm," Cass tilted her head. "That's rather altruistic of you."

"Thank you," Rosa beamed.

"It wasn't a compliment," Cass replied, sternly. "What you're suggesting is a gamble, with a lot of people's lives on the line. You fuck this up, and there's no fixing it."

"If we don't do anything," Rosa shot back. "We already fuck it up. And the way I figure, the more hands we have on deck, the better our odds. So, can I count you in?"

Cass stared at her before snorting. "It'll take a miracle to pull this off, kid," she said as she strolled away. And I can't even remember the last I saw one of those, she thought to herself. Like it was yesterday, she could see it, him atop the tower of the dam, watching the armies in retreat, howling in triumph like he was some kind of prehistoric war god. God, I need a drink, Cass thought to herself as she reached for her belt and counted off her shells.

Gorobets was at an impasse. The stalker had the jump on him but evidently was just as surprised to see him as Gorobets had been. The walkie-talkie was at his ear, giving him enough time to squawk over the radio but not enough for a full message. He needed men at this position as soon as possible. And he knew how he could do it.

Spinning around, he chucked the device straight at the black-hatted man's head. Deflecting the projectile with a hatchet, the intruder closed in as Gorobets unslung his rifle. Raising his hatchet, the black-hatted one brought it down on the length of the rifle as Gorobets used it as a shield. Pushing the intruder back, Gorobets' finger wrapped around the trigger as he took aim at his target. The intruder threw his hatchet as Gorobets' shoulder, burying itself in its target as the finger fired off its rounds just as Gorobets intended.

Cade cursed himself as he tackled the officer, drawing out his knife as Gorobets blocked the man's wrist with his unwounded arm. Cade put both his hands behind the knife. He didn't have time, he had to finish him and make his getaway as soon as possible. If he was spotted now, eventually he would be trapped. The struggle continued for a few seconds before Cade released his free hand from the knife and slammed a blow into Gorobets' wounded shoulder. The sudden shock forced Gorobets to cry out in pain, only for it to be silenced with a single motion. As the blade buried itself into Gorobets' neck, blood erupted from the Colonel's mouth as his life slipped from his body. Still, Gorobets had time enough for one last message.

The iron-scented glob landed right in Cade's eye, forcing him off the dead man as he snarled and clawed at his eyes. As Cade managed to just clear his vision, the sounds of soldiers approaching forced him to retreat. He barely had time to grab his gear and none to hide the body to buy him more. All he could do was hope that damnable eye-bot was still where he placed it and head north as soon as possible. And to think this was just supposed to be a simple surveillance job!

An hour later, Lieutenant Milligan arrived at the scene where a tarp had been placed over the body of his former commanding officer. The survey team, already feeling guilty over having left the Colonel alone despite their orders, awaited the deserved berating that was inevitably coming for them. Milligan, however, couldn't take his eyes off the body.

"…Bury him," Milligan finally said. "Take him back to Circle Junction and bury him. I'll take his dog tags and write up the report for his family."

"Sir," the troopers all said in unison.

"…From now on, your new standing orders," Milligan continued as his temperature began to rise. "Find whoever did this, and then dig another grave!"