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"Paladin, there's something up ahead."
Brand peered through the narrow opening in between the armor slabs welded onto the truck's windshield. Karter pointed to the silhouette of a roadblock in the distance. As they neared the obstruction in their path, they realized it was one of the Dominion security checkpoints. In the time since they've last crossed over from Dominion territory, its reach had extended in the span of a few days.
"Eyes on, initiates." Brand announced as he shifted the gear down, "Whatever happens from here on out, remain calm. Cooperation is key to staying alive around here. They won't bother us any more than they have to unless we give them a reason to."
His words were met with an uncomfortable silence as the initiates peeked from the back of the old truck. Slowly, the sight of the Dominion checkpoint grew clear, and the military IFV's parked securely behind the roadblock barricades came into view. The armored truck crossed the outer perimeter, and already the checkpoint flagged the vehicle as a potential threat. Fortunately for the Brotherhood, there was an early warning system set in place by the Dominion to set apart hostiles from non-hostiles.
A PA system, formed by loudspeakers set up along the road, blared at the approaching truck.
"Attention, driver! You are approaching Dominion territory! Slow your vehicle's pacing to walking speed! Ignore this instruction and you will be fired upon!"
For Brand and Karter, it was not the first they've encountered so they knew exactly what to do when the Dominion soldiers would force them to stop for inspection. For the initiates, however, it was nerve-wracking. They've never had to deal with this sort of thing when they were at the Basin. The only vestige of order and civilization they've come to know in their lives had always been the Brotherhood, and to hear the unfriendly tone on the PA for the first time as well as the threat of getting shot at, they couldn't help but immediately switch to combat mode.
As the paladin slowed the truck down in cooperation with the Dominion's demands, Karter looked back and noticed to her surprise and alarm that the initiates were readying their weapons. Angrily, she barked at the youths. "Hey! Are you guys trying to get us all killed?! Put your weapons away, now!"
"Approach the checkpoint and prepare for inspection!"
The initiates did as they were told, trusting the word of their superiors and hoping that all will be well as they said.
The truck groaned as the old brakes ground it to a halt, stopping just a few feet away from the roadblock. There were four Dominion soldiers standing guard behind the barricades. One of them wore a suit of power-armor, the makings of which the initiates had never seen before, and carried a large portable minigun in his hands. Six more rooks exited an armored trailer parked behind the old store building sitting at the side of the road, which served as their garrison, and moved to reinforce the others at the checkpoint.
Four Centaur IFV's stood on standby with their guns trained on the road. Brand knew that it would only take one wrong move or one errant slip of the tongue and those 20mm turrets would decimate him and his comrades in the blink of an eye. If the initiates were to make the effort of staying calm during the whole ordeal, he would have to make double that effort as he was responsible for all of them.
The Dominion officer in charge, easily distinguished from the rest of his unit by the crimson beret on his head, approached the vehicle. A quizzical look crossed his face as he noted the ramshackle armored plating welded to the truck's outer hull. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a crude mobile fortress. In fact, he'd seen plenty. Most of them were used by raider warbands, which necessitated the installation of the Dominion's military checkpoints.
"Switch off the engine." He told Brand, an order that the paladin immediately followed. The rook barked at the people in the truck, "Exit the vehicle and keep your hands where we can see them! Do it now!"
"Go." Brand told his team, "Do as they say and keep your mouths shut. I'll do all the talking."
Slowly, the team emerged from the armored truck and kept their hands up as ordered. The officer told them to walk over to the front of the building and stand facing the wall with their hands pressed against it. Then, the rooks started to pat them down for weapons and other contraband items while the others searched the vehicle thoroughly.
Through it all, the officer started questioning Brand. However, they've barely touched the subject of the first question when the rooks caught sight of the signature bright green coil housing on Karter's plasma pistol.
Immediately, the aggression showed by the rooks doubled as they shoved everyone to their knees and started cuffing them where they stood. The initiates struggled and everyone started shouting all at once, including Brand. One of the soldiers snatched the pistol and held it up for the officer to see, "Got one, sir! Plasma-grade weapon, Pre-War!"
"More over here, sir!" Another one yelled from the road, having finished dumping the contents of the team's cargo container onto the ground. The initiates did not take kindly to seeing their stuff being handled so carelessly like trash as they scattered all over the road. Their supplies, medical boxes and food items, along with their weapons were poured onto the dusty ground in piles. "Laser-grade weapons! Chems and food items!"
"Well now, seems like we're not off to a great start." The officer shook his head and glanced down at Brand, "Now what exactly were you wasters planning to do with all that firepower? Rob a supply depot? Take over a town?"
"N-No! You've got it all wrong!" Brand defended, just barely managing to stick to his alibi. He swallowed, then wet his lips as he recomposed himself. "We're travelers just looking for a safe place to settle. We heard about the Dominion, heard it was secure and that the land was full of green."
The officer remained unconvinced, "Right, still doesn't explain you possessing an arsenal big enough to arm a small army."
"The road here was hard and full of dangers. Those weapons are solely for defensive purposes. We didn't know it wasn't allowed. Please, we're not looking for trouble."
At this, the rook leaned back as if taking the paladin's words into consideration. He took a full minute to roll it around in his head, then glanced down at Brand. "What's your name, waster?"
"Brand. My name's Brand."
"Well then, Brand, let this be a lesson to you and your whole crew." The officer said sternly as he hauled him up to his feet. The cuffs were taken off and the officer held up the plasma pistol in his face, "This is a no-no in Dominion lands. High-caliber ballistic weapons, plasma-grade weapons, aggression-inducing chems are contraband items. If we catch you in possession of these items, there will be heavy consequences, especially if you are intending to sell them illegally."
"That was never our plan." Brand said honestly as he rubbed his wrists.
"Maybe." The rook said, "You can keep your laser weapons, the low-caliber ones only. The rifles and the plasma pistol will be confiscated."
"But-"
"Let me finish." The man frowned, his tone turning nasty. "You will be reimbursed with a provisional sum to replace these weapons. I advise you to make those purchases in the nearest market." He turned to point at the armored truck, "Now, we're tagging your vehicle so that the other checkpoints would let you through. Follow instructions at all times, maintain the speed limit at all times, and you won't have a problem."
"Thank you." The paladin said, although himself not feeling grateful.
The officer knew what he was thinking, but did not care in the least. He made his point, the wasters would know then that things were different in Dominion lands. If they wanted to settle there so badly, they needed to follow the law. Without the law, there would be no order. And without order, Dominion lands would be no different from the anarchic and chaotic raider badlands that they've worked so hard to rectify for so long.
The rooks gave Brand and his team 2000 Dominion credits, which was roughly the cost of the weapons they've confiscated, then sent them on their way once the dumped supplies were placed back in the trunk.
The paladin followed the speed limit as he drove them out of there, glancing back at the rearview mirror every now and then to make sure they weren't being followed. He didn't see anyone on the road driving after them, but he knew that somehow the Dominion was watching. High up in the sky and little more than a dot to any onlookers from the ground, a Dominion EITS eyebot drone followed the truck. A listening post, just a quarter of a mile away from the first military checkpoint, received the drone's live feed and posted a watchman to keep track of the visiting armored truck.
"I took a picture of that place before they rounded us up for inspection." Little Lily said quietly, hoping to keep their minds off of the harrowing first impression they've received from the Dominion.
"Good." Karter encouraged, "Keep doing that, as much as you can. Every little detail must be documented. When its memory's full, make sure to inform me. I'll copy everything in my pip-boy, then wipe the data to make space. You got that?"
"Yes ma'am."
"You did well back there, Brand." The scribe congratulated the paladin, "Your quick-thinking saved all our asses."
"It's just the beginning, Karter." He replied, "There's a high probability that the Dominion set up more than one military checkpoint throughout these highways."
"That officer told us that he tagged our vehicle, the next ones may be a lot easier than the first."
"We'll see."
Although Brand was skeptical, it did indeed prove easier for the team to move through the Dominion's highways once they've received the first tag. The next checkpoints merely needed to scan the sticker placed on the truck's armored windshield, then waved them through. Overall, their journey got smoother as they ventured deeper and deeper into Middle Texas.
The scenery changed as did their perspective on the Dominion, which broadened with every mile of that familiar yet foreign civilization.
Massive billboards, containing ads for varying products or introductions to the basic infrastructure of the Dominion as a whole, were erected along the highway, catching the attention of all onboard the truck as they passed them.
From popular food items like Box o' Steers, a favorite packaged food product from Elysion which contained salted beef from cloned cow's meat, to the universally loved Nuka-Cola. Some displayed ads for military recruitment centers, featuring a buxom blonde woman in a pin up style skimpy military uniform riding the barrel of an M2 Black Bear. This was "Tanker" Belle, the widely celebrated tanker mascot.
The boys in the back of the truck, as well as some of the girls, couldn't help but stare at her lovely smile and her tantalizing figure, as she welcomed them into Dominion land.
I want YOU for the Army! Enlist today at your nearest recruitment center.
"Paladin! Look!" Mace cried out excitedly as his eyes caught sight of green, "What are...what are those?!"
Farmlands, made up of greenhouses teeming with carefully cultivated plant-life as far as the eye could see stretched from one end of the valley to the next. The massive complexes of white plastic walls that served as the primary food sources of the Dominion population centers were lined up in neat little rows. Cultivators, workers in white jumpsuits, operated massive machines that distributed precious clean water to give life back to the growing green. A sprawling network of pipes ran along and in between the complexes, based out of a primary pump system that ran underground.
The ant farms could be found in a small patch of land next to the greenhouses. Giant ants served the newest form of livestock in the Dominion's economy, and was largely responsible for solving the young nation's problem of food supply, source of income, asset saving, source of employment, soil fertility and agricultural traction. It was nonetheless a dangerous job, given the aggressive nature of giant ants, yet profitable.
Ant farmers were usually outfitted with extra protection, such as power-armor or high-caliber weapons, to assist them in their work at the farms. Although in some cases, work-related accidents due to occupational hazards involved were unavoidable.
Long and sturdy security fences surrounded these farmlands, protected by the same security forces that guarded the border- the Dominion Army. The High Marshal and his small council of representatives did not like the idea of privatizing the food industry, much less in the case of water production, as they knew that private managers tended to have little concern for public interest unless there was a competitive market. In a world where there were few competitors, it was fairly easy for a single company to grow to prominence and thus monopolize one of the most important sectors of the market.
There was never any lack of job opportunity for anyone in the Dominion, a unique trait that seemed utterly alien to the people of the Wasteland.
"Those are farms, Mace." Little Lily replied, taking a few photos on the way through the highway. "People grow their food there."
"Like...like the hydroponics district back at Landfall?"
Brand nodded, "Yes, exactly."
The armored truck joined the lanes occupied by other vehicles, alongside brahmin caravan trains which traveled on the dusty lane designated solely for them beside the sidewalk for pedestrians. Most of the cars and trucks were not armored like theirs, and they each carried an assortment of goods to be sold in the Dominion markets. The pacing slowed to a crawl, and soon the team found themselves trapped in a traffic jam.
A large billboard stood at the crest of a nearby hill which read, WELCOME TO CARLON CITY, Your Home Away From Home.
"Carlon City, your home away from home." Brand read the sign out loud, expecting to see an overhyped metropolis of aging ruins and Pre-War buildings. "It can't be that good."
"We'll see soon enough." Karter said.
The line moved some more, and the team entered the Gypsy Mile. Patchwork tents and squatter houses fashioned out of junk, rusted metal sheets and old tires were mixed together with the few surviving buildings of the Old World. Shanty towns, overcrowded markets and motor pools each filled with an assortment of vehicles cobbled together in a similar fashion as their armored truck. As more and more cars veered off the road to enter the Mile, the traffic jam gradually grew thinner and thinner, until it resumed its steady pace.
At first, Brand thought that the Gypsy Mile was Carlon City and felt confused as to how bad the civilian infrastructure looked like for the Dominion. He thought that for a Wasteland power with such an impressive military, they would've at least built themselves up from the inside before looking to annex the outlaying territories. He didn't have to wait long to have his preconceptions toppled as they came upon one of the main entrances into Carlon City.
Another checkpoint stood in their way, and the whole team braced themselves for any confrontation.
As it turned out, the reception they had was a lot less abrasive and more friendly. A female guard at the booth stepped out with a scanning gun in hand and a pip-pad in the other, while a group of Dominion rooks stepped out to inspect the truck. A less intrusive method combining sniffer dogs and undercarriage mirrors put the team at ease, and it showed when Brand returned the cheery greeting of the rook.
"Hello there!" She leaned over with a smile, "First time visiting Carlon?"
"Yes ma'am."
The rook scanned the sticker and signaled the checkpoint barrier to be lifted, "Follow the yellow lane and proceed to Immigration for orientation. And please, don't wander off. We'll know if you do."
There was an obvious threat there, but Brand did his best to ignore it. He wanted this whole orientation thing done as quickly as possible, so he followed her instructions to the letter. The paladin drove them down the yellow lane and into the city. When they did, a collective exclamation erupted from within the truck.
"Whoa."
Carlon City was huge, and Brand was correct in assuming it was a metropolis but incorrect in assuming it was as primitive as the hovels of the Permian Basin, a place whose people the Brotherhood have purposely kept in dissolution.
The first thing they noticed of its streets was that it was so clean to the point where it almost looked brand new. Not one scrap of rubbish strewn on the pathways or dropped as litter, no large bin bags left festering for collection, no beggars or vagrants to flood the alleyways or sidewalks. The city, like any buzzing metropolis in the post-apocalyptic era, was noisy but it was clean.
Paladin Brand had little experience in the rules of city life, and since he refused to look like an idiot to the people around him, he decided to follow the example of the cars in front of him. When they veered off the street to enter a parking lot in front of the building with the large 'Immigration Center' sign, he followed them in and imitated their movements. He managed to park the truck just right, then switched off the engine.
Brand uttered a heavy sigh and exited the truck, "Come on, let's head inside."
"You heard him, move your asses." Karter said, and the whole team disembarked to follow him indoors.
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