Chapter Two

0712 hours, February 23, 2554 (military calendar)

Highway 95

State of Nevada, Planet Earth, Sol System

There wasn't anything of any value in the back of the trailer unit, at least in terms of food or fuel. Just the long skeletonised remains of a man curled up beneath a ratty blanket at the very back of the trailer. Curiously, he had also been clutching a metal tin the size of Ryan's open hand that contained maybe a hundred of the same Nuka-Cola bottlecaps he had found on the decayed humans on Gamma Halo, and his first thought on seeing the sight was to consider the guy an idiot for dying whilst holding something that back home would have been useless.

But as he stared at the bottlecaps it occurred to Ryan that he wasn't back home, and in a wasteland at that. It was obvious the man had died trying to keep them safe which meant they had to hold some measure of value to someone here, maybe even served as currency in a limited capacity. Besides, his armour had more than enough storage to accept the tin and even if it turned out they were useless, it wasn't like he was short of anywhere to toss them, either.

'You know, just once, I'd like to meet someone that's actually alive,' Ryan said as he dropped down from the back of the trailer unit, landing with a soft thud on the cracked surface of Highway 95 before resuming his northward march. 'Not just… bones.'

Around him was a veritable fleet of rusted out vehicles, all of them monstrously sized things on par with a Warthog for length yet only had seating for at most three or four people, and in many were the skeletal remains of their owners and passengers still dutifully strapped in, killed by the bombs that had dropped who knew how many years ago.

Much of Ryan's first night in the wasteland had been spent trying to grapple with this strange new reality he found himself, the impossibility of it all, before finally coming to the conclusion that he hadn't been transported to the Earth he knew but a parallel version of her, one where the various nation states had engaged in a global exchange of nuclear weapons. As fantastical and outlandish as it sounded, it genuinely felt like the only answer that explained both the elevated background radiation count and why neither his hardened uplink or command network module were able to detect any friendly satellites in orbit.

In fact the only transmissions Artoria had detected were sporadic AM/FM signals, though they were currently too weak to make a proper analysis of. At the very least, it was a sign of life in what had been an otherwise lifeless wasteland. That, or the remains of a semi-operational radio station which might still hold some supplies he could use. Ryan had every confidence the portal to Gamma Halo would open again going by how much dirt and sand had gotten blown through into the ring. He just couldn't be certain when that might be, meaning he needed to source and locate a means of sustaining himself until then.

So, at dawn, he had set out from the cave in the hopes of tracking down one of the radio signals, quickly stumbling across the remains of a highway whose signage gave him and Artoria a rough idea of where they were and a more likely spot to investigate than the signals, though assuming it was still there the city of Las Vegas was more than 110 kilometres away, around two days travel.

'I fear that given our environment, brigands will be more likely than a friendly face,' Artoria said. 'Downfalls of society tend to bring out the worst in people.'

'Depends on how far they fell,' Ryan said, not that her concerns weren't warranted.

Reports from glassed colonies were rife with examples of survivors devolving into roving bands of marauders, duking it out with each other in the ruins of their old home in a brutal fight for supremacy, but they were exceptions rather than the rule and more often than not rescue teams found functional societies when they returned. The same would likely be true here, and Ryan spent part of his walk idly speculating on just what he might find once he came across the people of the wastes.

The only problem was there were simply too many possibilities, and the real question he needed to ask was figuring out a way of integrating himself into whatever economies existed. About his only marketable skill was that of fighting, though at a push he could offer them up the use of Artoria. She had originally been designed to interface with alien computer systems, of which a large part included defeating any and all security systems they might have, so it stood to reason she would be able to interface with the local operating systems and unlock whatever ancient secrets they might hold.

In all likelihood, though, Ryan knew his primary means of generating something resembling an income would be to serve as a gun for hire, which wasn't something he was looking forward to. Not because he disliked the idea of turning mercenary, but because the best way to ensure his chances of surviving until the portal back to Gamma Halo reactivated was to avoid conflict as much as possible. Unfortunately for him, fighting really was his only option if the Artoria route didn't pan out.

It was a paradoxical situation he found himself in, not wanting to fight despite it probably being his best, and only option, to ensure he survived long enough for the link back to his own universe to reappear.

Ryan could only shake his head at the absurdity of it as he continued walking down the cracked and broken highway, occasionally stopping by a rusted out vehicle that looked like it might contain something useful. But, as with the truck, scavengers had already picked them clean of anything useful, and everything else had been corroded by time and the elements to junk with not even the fabric coverings of the seats remaining. Eventually he stopped checking the vehicles and focused on his surroundings more fully on the off chance there really were some of the brigands Artoria was worried about.

For the next hour he kept scanning the brows of the hills ahead of him for anomalous flashes from an optic or scope, or for sections of the highway where the vehicles had been moved in such a way to funnel him into a specific point, or even thin trails of smoke from a campfire, only to see nothing of the sort. It was just kilometre after kilometre of seemingly dead and barren desert with not even a suggestion of animal life. About the only things Ryan saw that moved were the occasional tumbleweed and road signs swinging in the breeze.

That changed around ten kilometres south of a place called Searchlight with a hazy, indistinct shape fading into view on the far horizon. At first Ryan didn't acknowledge it, thinking it to be some wrecked car or a desolate shack, but as he drew closer he soon realised it was drifting slightly from one side of the highway to the other and coming into focus quicker than everything else around it. That meant it was moving towards him, meaning it was a living being. Maybe even human.

Ryan came to a halt and brought out a pair of binoculars, focusing them on the distant figure to reveal it was indeed a human, a man, who looked mostly unaltered by the background radiation count. There were no extra appendages or cancerous lumps Ryan could see, nor any other obvious signs of mutation, but they could have been hidden beneath the dark leather armour the man wore which had a number of pockets and bandoliers spread across it, plus metal looking shoulder pauldrons, with a wide brimmed rattan hat and dark aviators providing protection against the harsh desert sun.

For protection against more direct threats like bandits or wild animals, the man carried a short barrelled rifle in his arms with a pistol strapped to his thigh and who knew what else secreted around his person. Ryan wagered there would be a knife or several somewhere on him, grenades too, useful things to have in any situation.

'What do we think?' Ryan said as he kept the binoculars trained on the man. 'Friendly? Or bait?'

'If he is bait, Sir Spartan, then I do not know who he is serving as bait for,' Artoria said. 'I have detected no signals on any frequency to suggest we are under observation by brigands, though I cannot rule out the possibility of more physical lines of communications.'

It also seemed unlikely that Ryan's first contact with living people in the wasteland would be hostile, but on second thought maybe it did. A vast, expansive landscape like this would provide suitable grounds for a roving band of bandits to hide out in, something that had been true since time immemorial.

By now the man had stopped and pulled out a set of binoculars himself, training them on the immobile Ryan, and for the next minute or so both sides simple examined the other as a potential threat. There wasn't anything Ryan saw that might give him cause for concern but he couldn't say the same for the man. He was, after all, dressed from head to toe in heavy looking power armour and more than seven feet tall. Who knew what forms more advanced armour systems might take here, if there were any to begin with.

Another minute passed before either side moved, the man raising a hand to offer up a short, curt wave that could have either been a means to show he meant no harm or an attempt to distract Ryan as his buddies snuck closer in the hopes of ambushing him.

'Friendly?' Ryan said again.

'I truly cannot say, Sir Spartan,' Artoria said. 'As mentioned, I have detected no signals to suggest he is working in conjunction with others but that does not preclude other, more direct methods of communication or prearranged plans with any compatriots we have missed.'

And, Ryan had to remind himself, Artoria's intended function was interfacing with non-UNSC computer networks rather than providing battlefield support like other AIs that got assigned to Spartans, meaning her capabilities in situations like this were limited. He was under no illusion she would be all knowing and all seeing in times like these, doubly so given she was a dumb AI, but all that meant for him going forward was he'd just have to operate with more caution than before.

One interpretation of that would be to just avoid or eliminate this man without hesitation and maintain that mindset until he reached a populated town, but that was an extreme interpretation. Besides, Ryan's gut was telling him the man meant him no ill will and after ten years in the Marines and another as a Spartan, he had come to trust his gut in matters such as these.

He raised his own hand and offered up a return wave before lowering his binoculars and saying, 'We'll treat him as a friendly, for now, and see what he knows.'

'And if he were to do anything untoward?' Artoria said.

Ryan drew his MA5K. 'I think we both know the answer to that.'

0848 hours, February 23, 2554 (military calendar)

Highway 95

State of Nevada, Planet Earth, Sol System

They met up in the shade of a half collapsed gantry resting on a trailer unit and just like they had from afar, both sides spent a good amount of time examining the other in detail before doing anything else.

As with his earlier assessment there was nothing about the man that gave Ryan pause or reason to worry. He was an inch or two short of six feet and looked to be somewhere north for forty, making him at least ten or twelve years older than Ryan, with a weathered complexion that told him he had endured more than his fair share of miles out in the wastelands. Other than that, the only thing of note about the guy was a bulky looking device strapped to his left forearm that reminded Ryan of the TACPADs some officers and NCOs wore, or the UGPS he himself had.

For his part, the man was looking Ryan up and down with no small amount of curiosity and, strangely, a hint of familiarity like he had seen Mjolnir armour or something similar to it, before reaching the same conclusion that the stranger before him posed no threat and said, 'Good morning.'

'Morning,' Ryan said, offering a tip of the head as well. 'Off anywhere interesting?'

'Some caves south of here, maybe,' the man said. 'Checking them out and the like. You?'

'Las Vegas, if it's still there,' Ryan said. 'I'm looking for work and supplies, and hopefully some info. I'm new to the area.'

'Yeah, you don't look like you're from this neck of the woods,' the man said, once again taking in the protective garb of the Spartan. 'Vegas is still there, sure, but it's a long way off. Three, maybe four days travel, and you'll have to skirt around Searchlight. Whole place is irradiated and full of feral ghouls.'

'Ghouls?' Ryan said.

The man stared at him for a long moment then said, 'Zombies, basically. Their flesh has rotted off and they attack most things in sight that aren't other ghouls.'

He paused again before saying, 'You aren't from a Vault, are you? Only just opened up?'

Ryan shook his head. 'I don't even know what one of those is.'

'Some other pre-war bunker, then,' the man said. 'Maybe an old military installation.'

But, again, Ryan gave a shake of the head, though technically speaking he felt Gamma Halo fit the bill for the latter of the two options. It had military applications and housed weapons, and was incredibly old. He just didn't think this guy would believe him if he said he had come from a gigantic ringworld from a parallel world. Actually, speaking of his origins, he had yet to think of what he might tell people who asked. Should he be truthful, or keep it vague? Both had their merits but of the two, Ryan found himself leaning more towards the vague option.

Better to avoid making any definitive statements until he knew more about the land, lest he mistakenly 'align' himself with the foe of whoever or whatever ruled this region of the wastes. That, and the people who would believe his true origin were likely few and far between.

'Like I said, I'm new to the area,' Ryan said. 'Looking for work, supplies and info.'

'Okay, then,' the man said. 'Well, if you're aiming for Vegas then you'll definitely find all three there, but it's still a trek.'

His eyes danced over Ryan's gear again, lingering on his weapon, and added, 'Actually, if you're not too picky, how'd you feel about lending me a hand? Wouldn't exactly call it well paying but I could put in a good word with some of the people I know once we get back, and answer any questions you have.'

'What's the work?' Ryan said.

'Checking some caves,' the man said. 'I'm actually looking into a rash of disappearances in the area, if that makes any difference, and I thought whoever's behind them could be operating in the area.'

Ryan thought about it for a brief second then nodded. 'Always happy to help out people in need.'

'Good to hear,' the man said before holding his hand out. 'Name's Camry, by the way.'

'Ryan.'

They shook hands with Camry taking this as his cue to lead the newly formed pair off along the highway, heading south and away from Vegas but with a promise of information and work, both of which were things Ryan knew he would be in need of.

'So,' he said. 'Tell me about yourself.'