Chapter Three
The Southerner
Ashville Air Force Base Command Bunker
A tense atmosphere greeted Colonel Autumn as he returned to the Meeting Room, and met with Captain Mosley and Lieutenant Gannon once more. Mosley stewed in a subtle, albeit visible anger as he read over an After-Action Report submitted by one of his subordinates. Autumn found it hard to blame him, especially given that he'd lost a Vertibird Crew during the battle.
Sitting across from him, Arcade looked incredibly anxious as he worked through some paperwork of his own, probably from the Ashville Clinic. He was obviously distracted, though he did a decent job of concealing it. It was tough to guess exactly what had him so on-edge, but Autumn was sure that he'd find out in due time.
Unlike the earlier meeting, Captain Miller wasn't present, as he was busy carrying out Autumn's prior orders. Richard had volunteered to lead the search effort for additional hostiles at the Fort Knox ruins, but Autumn had turned the man down, instead shifting that responsibility onto Mosley's second-in-command, Lieutenant Wellington Patchett. While the attack was certainly an unpleasant surprise, Autumn was undeterred, the return of democracy to the United States would not be slowed by anybody, especially not some petty raider gang.
But even as the dismissive thought crossed his mind, Autumn couldn't help but think back to the descriptions that he'd been given of the attackers. Each one was clad in a standardized uniform, adorned with an uncomfortably familiar battle flag. The Confederate States of America had only been glossed over in the history classes that Autumn had attended many years ago back on Control Station Enclave, but they'd had nothing kind to say about the slaving traitors.
A history lesson was seemingly in order, as if this new enemy was copying the old rebel movement, perhaps there was something to be learned from the past. For the time being however, the present demanded his attention.
"It's good to see you both alive and well gentlemen," Autumn commented as he took his own seat. "It's been a hell of a day, but I hope that hasn't discouraged you."
"Not at all Sir." Mosley answered without hesitation. "Just eager for payback is all."
"No Sir, just a bit tired." Arcade answered with just the slightest bit of hesitation.
Autumn decided to leave it be however, as more pressing matters needed to be addressed. "That's good, because we need to figure out exactly what happened today. While I'm hoping that the prisoners that you've recovered can share some insight into the identity and motivations of our enemy, their attack has exposed a vulnerability in our security. The fact that such a large hostile force was able to get so close to Ashville is unacceptable, this cannot happen again."
"If I may, Sir?" Mosley spoke up.
Autumn nodded. "Go ahead, Captain."
"Around an hour ago, I ordered some of our reserve Eyebots and Mister Gutsies to be activated and sent on patrol for any other potential threats in the region." Mosley stated. "While I understand that they're nearing the end of their service lives, and we may lose some of them to the wildlife, we need the extra eyes now. My pilots are also flying patrol flights south of Fort Knox. If there's any other stragglers from today's attack, we'll find 'em by morning."
"Excellent thinking, Captain." Autumn replied. Even if relying on the robots and air patrols was a stopgap, it would hopefully give them some time to find a more permanent solution. "I'll have some of my own men see about reactivating some of our old observation posts as well, and reinforcing our checkpoints throughout the region. Arcade, what are your thoughts?"
Arcade was already visibly in thought even before Autumn prompted him. "I'll be the first to admit that surveillance isn't exactly my field of expertise, but I'd suggest at least doubling the strength of our patrols. The men that were ambushed today got lucky, with how badly outnumbered they were, they could've easily been overrun."
"I agree," Mosley replied. "That being said, sending squads out in pairs is going to drastically reduce our available reserve forces unless we cut back on patrol routes."
"That's not an option, we'll just have to live with a smaller reserve." Autumn decided. A lack of awareness was what had gotten them into this mess, and cutting back on patrols was the opposite of what they needed to do.
Unfortunately, much like the majority of the Enclave's issues, it would've been more easily solved in the past. The Enclave had previously operated its very own military intelligence branch, the Defense Intelligence Agency. Unfortunately, just like the Enclave's Research Division, their surviving personnel had near-universally defected during the Enclave's Schism following the disastrous Battle of the Jefferson Memorial. They had paid the ultimate price for their treason at Adam's Air Force Base, and while they were somewhat inept, things had been and would continue to be a lot harder for the Enclave without them.
"If we need more manpower, we could always start recruiting locals." Arcade suggested.
"That's impossible! How could they be trusted, especially after the attack today?!" Mosley predictably shot down the idea. "For all we know, these raiders could've come from West Point!"
I can at least see where he's coming from, West Point was a rat's nest before we came along and set them straight. Autumn thought. Out of all their neighbors, the town had definitely been the most troublesome. Still, they never had anything close to a standardized uniform.
"Even Raiders wearing the uniforms of a dead nation from the eighteen-sixties?" Arcade curtly echoed Autumn's thoughts.
"Gentlemen, that's enough," Autumn replied, not even bothering to raise his voice. The day had been exhausting, and thankfully, both Arcade and Mosley were seemingly also too exhausted to continue their petty squabble. "Arcade, while a smaller reserve of available soldiers will be an inconvenience, it is not a large enough issue that we should consider lowering our recruitment standards. I respect that you strongly believe in the tenacity and capability of our citizens, but try to remember that we need a large base of educated civilians even more than we need more soldiers. Once they've demonstrated that they can work, I'll believe that they can fight."
Arcade wore his stubborn disagreement on his face, which in all honesty, Autumn respected. A backbone was something every officer needed, and that was one area where Arcade most certainly did not come up short. "Yes Sir."
"And Franklin, even with our compromised strategic awareness, I find it rather hard to believe that we could've overlooked such a large and distinct hostile force permanently living in our backyard." Autumn said. "Although, I do find it strange that we didn't receive any warning from our neighboring settlements…"
Mosley raised a cautious eyebrow. "Do you suppose they've sold us out?"
"It's possible, but equally possible that our enemy simply managed to go undetected. After all, they managed to sneak onto Federal Property, sneaking past a poorly-trained town guard would be far easier." Autumn answered. "And let's not forget that our neighbors are dependent on us for defense, I can't imagine that it would be easy to turn them against us."
"We can't rule out the possibility that we've been betrayed," Mosley insisted. "My men followed some of the tracks that were left behind by the enemy to a few abandoned campsites further south from Fort Knox. If they didn't divert their path, they would have had to pass through at least two settlements to reach us."
Before Autumn could reply, Arcade spoke up. "Wait, Captain, which Settlements?"
Mosley nodded, seemingly pleased that Arcade was actually taking the issue seriously. "Our best guess suggests they came from the ruins around where Radcliff used to be."
"By Radcliff… then that would be The Schoolyard and Checkpoint, right?" Arcade asked, slightly more urgently.
"That's correct." Mosley confirmed.
A strong wave of concern nestled itself in the forefront of Autumn's mind as he followed Arcade's train of thought right as Arcade asked his final question.
"And when did we last hear from them?"
While Mosley's posture stiffened even further at the implications of what Arcade was saying, Autumn reached down to his belt and switched on his radio. "Enclave Control, this is Eagle Actual. Do you read?"
A moment later, he was met with the same dispatch officer that he'd spoken to earlier in the day. "Eagle Actual, this is Mike-One Juliet. Reading you loud and clear, over."
"Mike-One Juliet, when was the last contact we had with the Schoolyard or Checkpoint?" Autumn asked. Even as he spoke, he was afraid that he already knew the answer.
"Copy Eagle Actual, wait one," Mike-One Juliet replied, before about half a minute later returning with his answer. "Eagle Actual, our last contact with Checkpoint on log was with a trading caravan that checked in at the main gate thirteen days ago. Our last contact with the Schoolyard was a little over two weeks ago where they confirmed the reception of humanitarian aid from the Clinic, over."
Thirteen days, bare minimum. Autumn thought, before banishing the sense of dread that was suddenly forming in his stomach. "Mike-One Juliet, we have reason to believe that those settlements may have come under attack by enemy forces. Dispatch a patrol of Eyebots to each location and keep me notified of what they find, then contact all of our surrounding settlements to ascertain their status."
"Copy that Eagle Actual, I'll notify you once I have something to report." She replied.
By now, both Mosley and Arcade were looking at him. Despite the fact that neither of them said a word, Autumn could tell that they were both suggesting the same thing to him. If the settlements had fallen, then the enemy might still be present. "Solid Copy Mike-One Juliet. If any of our surrounding settlements fail to respond, or report that they've come under attack, notify Captain Sherman to ready the Eleventh Armored Cavalry for a counteroffensive."
"Copy all Eagle Actual, any further orders?" Mike-One Juliet asked.
"Not at this time Mike-One Juliet, Eagle Actual out." Autumn said, before returning his radio to his belt and turning back to Arcade and Mosley. "I believe that concludes our meeting for today gentlemen. Franklin, keep your birds and men on standby. If another situation develops, be ready to step off at fifteen-minutes notice. Arcade, if you wouldn't mind, I could use some help interrogating our prisoners."
"Yes Sir." Mosley immediately answered, standing and leaving the room without any delay.
Arcade looked incredibly hesitant, and again, Autumn couldn't really blame him. Interrogating a prisoner was dirty business, and for a humanitarian like Arcade, the idea was probably quite uncomfortable. "Sir, I'm not sure that I can be a part of something like that."
Again with the backbone, where were men like him back when we had the Oil Rig? Autumn briefly thought, before allowing himself to relax a little. "I understand your hesitation, but I wouldn't be asking for your help if I didn't need it. I never received any training for this, and the last time I conducted an interrogation, we lost Raven Rock."
"Wasn't that because Peter talked the President into blowing up the base?" Arcade asked. "Call me an optimist, but I don't think we need to worry about that happening again."
"I recall Peter saying that blowing up Raven Rock was actually Eden's idea, not his…" Autumn answered. Admittedly, that was still something he had his doubts about, but it wasn't exactly like he was about to trust Eden's judgment, especially with everything else that Peter had shown him. "I won't force you to do anything, Arcade, but you've managed to resolve some difficult conflicts in the past, and I'm hoping that you'll be able to do something similar with our prisoners."
Arcade seemed to mull it over in his head, before nodding. "Alright, I'll see what I can do. I'd suggest that we wait until tomorrow though, I know that at least one of our prisoners will need at least one more major surgery before they can talk at all, and giving them a night to cool off might allow for level heads to prevail."
Time is of the essence… but I suppose it would be best if we had some sleep before we went into this. Autumn thought. "We shouldn't wait too long, but I'll trust your judgment. Contact me tomorrow when you're ready to begin."
Arcade dutifully nodded. "Yes Sir."
With no further words exchanged between them, the two set off for their respective quarters for the night.
Ashville County Jail
The sunrise brought with it a pair of new developments for Colonel Autumn to worry about. The first was when neither the Schoolyard or Checkpoint had responded to Enclave's attempts to reach them over the radio. In a small mercy, all of their other neighboring settlements had answered with news that they hadn't been attacked by any raiders.
The second were the troubling results that came back from the Eyebot recon missions. Some of the Eyebots didn't find anything, and about half of them failed to return at all, but a handful managed to capture some distant, grainy footage of armed humans patrolling both settlements. While it was impossible to make out their identities, there was little doubt in Autumn's mind about who the men were.
Thankfully, Autumn had already ordered Captain Sherman's forces to begin preparing their forces the previous night. Assuming that they didn't run into any issues with their tanks, they would be departing to engage the enemy once more by noon. Armed with American steel and firepower, Autumn had little doubts about whether or not they'd win, but he still had his own issue to attend to.
The Ashville County Police Office and Jail was far from the large and sophisticated prisons that the Enclave had previously had access to. Given that the Enclave no longer had a desire to kidnap vast swaths of people for use as test subjects, they rarely needed a prison at all. More often than not, the Pre-War building served as a drunk tank for any Enclave soldiers who got a little rowdy while off-duty, and in rare cases, as a place for more serious troublemakers to stay for extended periods of time.
Perhaps the most notable thing about the building was the staff, the Ashville Police Department. Rather than being made up of "Pure" Humans, the police were drawn from Ashville's Wastelander Population. That had been a hard sell for Mosley, but as Autumn had been quick to remind him, the police held no actual power over the military. Instead, they served to protect and serve the civilian population by maintaining law and order. The officers themselves were all well-aware that should they fail in that duty, the military was perfectly capable of replacing them.
As Autumn walked through the doors, noting how the Officers on duty did their best to look busy, he found Arcade already waiting for him. "Good morning Lieutenant, are you ready to begin?"
Arcade took a long, deep breath. "As ready as I'm going to be, lead the way."
One of the officers led them further into the building, and to a pair of holding cells that were each occupied by a single prisoner each. Rather than their uniforms, they'd been redressed into some orange prisoner jumpsuits, as was standard practice. The cells were kept separated by a large soundproof door, as a means to prevent prisoners from colluding with one another.
Their belongings lay in varying states of disassembly in a nearby evidence locker, overseen by an Enclave Private who promptly snapped to attention. Autumn didn't know the soldier by appearance alone, but the cavalry patches on his uniform identified him as one of Captain Mosley's men.
"At ease," Autumn said, prompting the soldier to lower their hand. "Have the prisoners divulged anything?"
"Yes Sir. Both men listed their names, ranks, and serial numbers, all of which corresponded to what we found on their dog tags." The soldier answered.
With each word, Autumn felt his blood chill a little more, that did not sound like what a raider or bandit would've done. It suggested professional training, an understanding of counter-interrogation methods, and perhaps most worryingly of all, a dedication to a greater cause. The nature of that cause was what had Autumn truly worried, as if their attackers had been a part of a larger force, perhaps even a rogue nation…
The Enclave was still strong, but could they really fight a full-fledged war and hope to win?
As Autumn thought, the Enclave soldier before him continued to answer his question. "Beyond that, we've been unable to get anything out of them. That one there refuses to speak entirely beyond that, his name's Corporal Bedford Jefferson."
"And the other?" Autumn asked.
"Private Joel Willikers. He's the one that Lieutenant Gannon saved. He's been a little more talkative, but not by much. Asked some questions about where he was, who we were. I didn't answer." The soldier answered.
"Were either of them hurt?" Arcade asked. Given that Joel had visible plasma burns, it might've seemed like a stupid question, but all of them understood what Arcade really meant.
"Not past what we did to 'em in the field," The soldier answered. "Did you need anything else, Sir?"
"Not at this time Private, you may resume your duties." Autumn answered, before turning to Arcade. "Which one do you think we should start with?"
Arcade thought for a silent, pensive moment, before he gave his answer. "What about Joel? Maybe he'll be willing to be a bit more helpful, since he would've died without my help."
Autumn nodded. "Good thinking, lead the way."
There was an obvious tension in the air even before Arcade opened the door to the cell and stepped in. As Autumn followed, he was met with the potent smell of antiseptic, along the familiar smell of blood. Joel Willikers sat on his cot in his jumpsuit, and was holding his head in his hands before he looked up at the two Enclave Officers.
He was a visibly grizzled man, with a long brown beard and similarly overgrown hair, both of which still had specks of blood in them. He moved with a certain unsteadiness as well, but Autumn was surprised to find that there wasn't even a trace of fear in his eyes. Instead, there was a clear skepticism, and thinly-veiled hostility. "Who're you?"
A small part of Autumn already wanted to step in, and remind Joel that they were going to be asking the questions, not him. Still, he had asked Arcade to take the lead for a reason, and so Autumn remained silent.
"I'm Doctor Gannon from the Ashville Medical Clinic," Arcade introduced himself in a manner that caught Autumn somewhat off-guard, but again, he stayed silent and let the Doctor work. "I managed to save your life after you were injured in the battle yesterday."
Joel's skeptical gaze didn't waver. "Not to sound ungrateful, but why'd you go and do that?"
And people tell me that my accent's strong. Autumn thought. It was hard to place Joel's accent precisely, given that the vague borders that had defined Pre-War American Accents were blown apart along with everything else during the Great War. Even so, Autumn's best guess suggested that he was probably from the Deep South, which was very much in line with Joel's apparent Confederate Origins.
"I'm a Doctor, I try to help everyone that I can," Arcade answered. "But I was also hoping that you might be willing to answer a few questions for us."
Joel crossed his arms stubbornly. "My Momma didn't raise no snitch, and neither did my Drill Instructor. You won't make a traitor out of me."
Formal training, then. I suppose we already knew that to some degree. Autumn noted.
"I won't ask you to betray anybody. If you don't want to answer a question, just let me know." Arcade replied.
Autumn couldn't help but spare a doubtful glance at Arcade. Was that not exactly what the point of an interrogation was? What the hell is he doing? Is this some kind of psychological trick that he's using?
"Well… alright, but I'll hold you to that," Joel answered. "What'dya even wanna know anyway?"
"You said your name was Joel Wilikers," Arcade said. "Do you know a man named Bedford Jefferson?"
"Yeah, I remember him, but we didn't talk much." Joel answered. His voice was unsteady, and Autumn was already finding it difficult to gauge whether or not the man was lying.
"Why not?" Arcade asked.
"He was with one of the other squads, I think he was with the guys that they recruited down in the Bay." Joel explained.
A bay? They didn't come all the way from the Southern Coast, did they? Autumn thought, although he recognized that he might've been reading into things a bit too much. That was probably something to extract from their other captive however, and now they had a bit of information about him, vague as it was.
"And you didn't get recruited with them?" Arcade asked.
Joel glanced down at the ground, clearly mulling something over, before he answered. "No, and I didn't get recruited neither. Me and a few of my buddies drew the short straw when an Officer came to town, and after that we were sent off to be soldiers."
Arcade paused for a moment, but quickly recovered himself. "You were drafted?"
"A whole bunch of us were, although I dunno what happened to the other guys," Joel answered. "I got put in the Twenty-Fifth Alabama Infantry Regiment, and sent out to do my duty for Dixieland."
The overhanging dread that Autumn felt only redoubled at Joel's words. An organized draft? A regimental organizational structure? Had the Enclave really managed to overlook an entire nation in the deep south?
Then again… perhaps we didn't. Autumn thought. Although he didn't personally speak with any of the merchants who stopped by Ashville, those same merchants had a habit of spreading rumors throughout his troops. One such rumor had detailed an entire nation of slavers in the deep south, and assuming that Joel and his regiment had been a part of some reborn Confederacy, it was likely that they owned slaves just as the original rebellion had done.
At the time, Autumn had dismissed the rumors as exaggerated stories that were likely based on some unusually large and organized slaver gang. But that rumor had been years old even before it had reached Ashville. Evidently, the last few years had been rather prosperous for the slaver bastards.
"And those were the men who you were working with?" Arcade asked.
"Yeah… although I guess they're all dead now," Joel said, his voice hollow and dull. "Unless you Yankees saved any more of us?"
"Yankees?" Arcade asked, dodging the question as he did so.
"Yeah, Yankees," Joel answered with a stern tone of voice. "I ain't no fool, I know who y'all really are. You really think you can fly Vertibirds over our heads, and wear that flag, thinking we aren't gonna recognize ya? You can pull a drunk outta every bar from here to Canada, and he'd still be able to tell ya the story of the Enclave."
Autumn spared a brief glance at Arcade, who to his credit, betrayed nothing beyond mild surprise as he spoke. "And you and your men came looking for us?"
"I don't much feel like sharing," Joel replied. "You won't get anything outta me that you won't get outta any other guy."
Arcade nodded, and spared a glance up at Autumn. It was a silent message, but one that Autumn received clearly, it was time for him to step in. It would've been a lie to say that Autumn wasn't slightly nervous, but not because he felt threatened by their prisoner, far from it. No, what plagued him were the memories from Raven Rock that flashed through his mind, and all of that had started with an interrogation as well, one that he'd botched. He hadn't succeeded when working on his own, but this time, Arcade had given him something to work with.
The direct approach might not have worked with Peter… but maybe Arcade's on to something here. This bumbling moron probably doesn't even realize what he's already given us. Autumn thought. "And what might that be, Private?"
Joel looked him in the eye for what might've been the first time, and to the man's credit, he didn't even flinch under Autumn's glare. "That you're gonna get the same whooping from Dixieland that you got from that Tribal out west."
The traitor's flimsy attempt to get under Autumn's skin barely even registered with him. "If you know a thing about that flag we found on your uniform, then you know how things ended for your traitorous kind in the first war. What makes you think that a second's gonna go any different for you?"
Joel stiffened his posture and narrowed his eyes with a hateful scowl. "You got weak, that's why! Ya lost in the west, and you lost up north too! Those other fools just didn't put you down for good, but we ain't gonna let you slither away for a third time."
Well, he's right about one thing, we're not going anywhere. Autumn thought, but elected to deny Joel the satisfaction of even a small victory. Instead, he laid out a bit of bait, hoping that Joel's pride would get the better of him. "You're a fool if you think we're going to let some raiders wearing the uniforms of traitors stop us from rebuilding America. I seem to recall we dealt with your little regiment quite handily."
The prisoner chuckled at Autumn's words. "Raiders?! You clearly haven't been south for a long while! Once the Confederacy learns you're still guarding all that gold of yours, we'll whip your boys into chattels!"
Gold? Wait… Autumn thought, before allowing himself a victorious grin. "I suppose that explains why your gang decided to venture so far north, and found that America's Federal Property is guarded a bit better than you expected."
The color drained from Joel's face. "Wait, I didn't-"
"Too little, too late, traitor," Autumn sternly cut him off, before turning to Arcade. "Come along Lieutenant, we have what we came for. And you Joel, I suggest that you reconsider your loyalties. I'm sure you know what happens to traitors, but maybe we can work out a deal for you, if you give us what we want."
Arcade stood up and walked away, and Autumn followed as Joel stammered, before being cut off as Autumn closed the soundproof door.
Once it was closed, Arcade turned around with a look of visible conflict on his face. "I'm glad that we didn't have to hurt him but… do you really think he needs to die?"
"I have no sympathy for traitors, especially not when they're part of the same group that brazenly attacked us and killed two of our pilots," Autumn answered. "Even so, killing either of our prisoners would be wasteful, there is still much that we don't know about this Dixieland Confederation. If they're willing to cooperate with us, then maybe we can work something out with them."
Arcade had a distant look in his eyes, and Autumn would have normally been a bit concerned. He knew that Arcade had considerably more doubts about the Enclave's past than even he did, but despite that, Arcade had just given them a major win.
"Take the rest of the day off Lieutenant, you've certainly earned it. If it's any reassurance, you have my word that no harm will come to either of those men," Autumn told him. "I'll be in my office if you need me, I'm afraid I have a call I need to make."
A glimmer of curiosity passed over Arcade's face, and Autumn answered the unspoken question with a nod, before making his own exit.
Being a very busy man, Colonel Autumn spent very little time in his office. Most often, he was coordinating the Enclave's day-to-day alongside Enclave Control in the airfield's old Air Traffic Control Tower. He also much preferred to spend time in the field alongside his soldiers as well, not just because he preferred to lead from the front out of principle, but because it meant he could get a more direct picture of what was going outside of Ashville.
On the rare occasions that he did find himself in his office, he found the experience honestly a bit chilling. He'd come to hate isolation, and while the various bits of American memorabilia decorating the room had been a source of comfort for him in the past; nowadays, they couldn't help but remind him that America was one gasp away from death. The most prominent decorations, and the only three that he'd put up himself, were a trio of flags.
The oldest design had thirteen stars, and the second oldest had fifty. The flag, by far the newest, once again had thirteen stars, but it also had a distinctive "E" proudly emblazoned in the center of the circle of stars. In the past, the Enclave had only officially approved of their own flag design, but Autumn had put up all three of the flags in his office regardless, and approved the use of all of the designs for all of the Enclave's forces. It had felt wrong to consign such storied American symbols to storage, and Autumn wasn't sure which of the flags would be the one to proudly fly over the United States when it was restored to its rightful glory.
Of course, Autumn was self-aware enough to recognize that, at his age, he likely would not live to see the day of their victory in person.
If it ever comes at all. A darker thought briefly came to his focus, before he swiftly banished it. That was just one of many reasons he hated being in his office; if he wasn't working, he tended to start overthinking, and that tended to lead him down some uncomfortable paths.
Putting aside the doubt in his mind, Autumn took a deep breath as he reached down to one of the drawers in his desk, pulling out an extremely heavily-modified radio handset. Being deceptively heavy, and looking like a prop out of a midnight science-fiction feature, the device was an extreme-range radio, crammed full of cutting-edge tech from the Big Mountain Research Center.
Autumn's was one of four such devices, the second was in the hands of Lucy, better known as the Courier, and Big Mountain's current Administrator. The third was in the hands of Elder Sarah Lyons in the Capital Wasteland, while the fourth belonged to Peter, and was kept aboard Mothership Zeta, an alien warship that the former vault dweller had captured and now commanded. The four kept semi-regular communication, but recently, Autumn had been seeking a bit more insight from Peter on various matters, to the point where they would talk on a weekly basis.
Their small network had been one that Autumn himself had requested to be developed, after he'd learned just how much of a threat the Zetans actually posed. After all, for as much as Autumn held his own private concerns about the potential conflicts of the future, all of them recognized the shared threat of the Zetans. In a small mercy, the aliens hadn't made an appearance ever since Peter and his crew had shot down a second alien Mothership shortly after taking control of Zeta, but all of them remained on guard. Just because the aliens could not be seen did not mean that they were not present.
But that's a problem for the distant future… hopefully. Autumn thought as he tuned the device's various controls until he managed to get what he was fairly certain was a stable connection. "Eagle Actual to Mothership Zeta, do you read?"
After waiting a few seconds, Autumn received an answer from a young woman, whom he recognized as being Peter's second in command, Sally. "Eagle Actual, this is Mothership Zeta. Reading you loud and clear."
"Mothership Zeta, I need to speak with Peter as soon as possible," Autumn stated. "We've recently come under attack by a group that I'm hoping that he'll have some knowledge about."
"Ay-firmative Colonel, give me just a moment and I'll patch you through!" Came Sally's chipper reply.
In the past, Autumn had raised some serious doubts about putting a sixteen year old girl in such an important position, especially one with no formal training. Still, Peter had vouched for her numerous times, and given that she'd apparently played a pivotal role in saving Humanity during the fighting aboard the alien vessel, Autumn had chosen to take him at his word.
After about thirty seconds of waiting, Autumn heard a distinct click over the line, before he heard Peter greet him. "Hello Colonel, can you hear me?"
"I can," Autumn answered. "I'm afraid that I have some bad news, and I'm hoping you might have some information that can assist us."
"Sure, lay it on me." Peter replied.
"Yesterday a patrol of my men came under attack from what we assumed was a raider gang, but we now have reason to believe these men have come from a nation of slavers somewhere in the Deep South," Autumn explained. "They call themselves the Dixieland Confederation, and we're not sure as to their precise location, but we have good reason to believe they possess substantial military strength."
Peter took a moment to reply, likely conversing with somebody else over what Autumn had told him. "I can't say I'm familiar with them, but apparently we do have a Confederate soldier in one of the Cryo Pods that we haven't gotten around to stitching up yet. That being said, he was abducted in eighteen-sixty-five, so I'm guessing he's not one of 'em."
Autumn couldn't help but scowl, he'd naturally been disgusted to hear about what the aliens were doing with the abductees that they'd taken throughout history. The fact that such relentless experimentation also bore uncomfortable similarities to the Enclave's own past misdeeds was, frankly, something that Autumn had tried not to think about.
It wasn't all bad news though, as Peter and his team of Pre-War American Army Medics had gotten better at resuscitating the frozen captives. They'd even managed to return a handful of Enclave personnel who had previously been abductees, but as Autumn had learned from that endeavor, the surgeries needed to bring someone out of the Cryo Pods safely could take weeks.
As Autumn reflected on the past, Peter continued to share what he knew. "I'll see if Sarah knows anything later today. The Brotherhood have chapters all across the Wasteland, so they might be in the region… assuming they're still willing to talk to us."
"I would appreciate it, I'm afraid we're a bit starved for intel down here," Autumn admitted, before an idea came to mind. "Although… if there is a nation somewhere in the south, there might be some radio traffic from it, although our own equipment hasn't picked anything like that up."
"Ours might, we'll keep an ear on the airwaves for anything out of the ordinary," Peter offered. "If there's anything else we can do to help from up here, just let me know."
Against his better judgment, Autumn couldn't help but hesitate. While the threat posed by Dixieland took up the bulk of his focus, the idea of rebuilding America's government was far more daunting to him, and why wouldn't it be? He had been trained to destroy the enemies of the United States, not to actually be the one putting the country back together. "There is something, yes. I thought about what you told me, how Elder Lyons is planning on creating a new civilian government for this nation she's building. You helped me realize that America needs to do the same. Our martial law was always intended to be a temporary measure, and it has to end, now more than ever."
Even through the silence, he could imagine that Peter probably had a similar reaction that Arcade had, a mild sense of disbelief mixed with relief. Sure enough, that was precisely the tone of voice that he replied with. "I think that's a great idea."
"I'd hoped that you would think so. If you're able, I'd like you to make sure you don't have any members of the American Government in any of your cryopods," Autumn explained. "I recognize that it's a shot in the dark, but we're looking for politicians, judges, or really anybody with any kind of experience in the field of governance."
Peter briefly hesitated before replying, although he was probably just talking to the rest of his crew again. "I'll have a look, but I'll warn you in advance that I'm pretty sure we would have found anybody like that during our first few searches. Still, it can't hurt to look, I'll let you know what I find."
"That's all I ask." Autumn replied. "Now then, I'm afraid I can't stick around. I've already ordered a counterattack on these Confederates. We believe they've attacked some of our neighboring settlements to the south, and we're not going to stand by and let that happen."
"I hope it goes well, just watch your fire out there," Peter replied. "You know as well as I do that innocent people have a way of getting caught in the crossfire."
Autumn couldn't help but wince, that was a targeted remark, although certainly one with good intentions behind it. In the past, Autumn might've reacted to such a comment with outright hostility, but for as hard as it was to admit it, he knew he deserved it. He'd done a lot of terrible things, and made a lot of major mistakes. However, for as much as it hurt to be reminded of them, Autumn knew that it was much better than forgetting them, and inevitably repeating them.
"I won't make the same mistake twice, Peter," Autumn replied. "This time we'll get it right."
"I hope so Colonel," Peter replied. "Good luck."
"Thank you, Autumn out." He said, before turning the device off and returning it to its place in his desk.
This time we'll get it right. He repeated to himself with a refreshing determination, before standing up and leaving his office. There was much work to be done.
