A/N
Dominion-Brotherhood cooperation? Hmm, nah... :)
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Once inside the Immigration Center, Brand's team found themselves falling in line with the rest of the wasters looking to settle within the Dominion city. The air there was cool, courtesy of the many AC units built into the ceiling and walls, which helped ease the discomfort of the people standing in line.
The paladin expected to see a system heavily encumbered with bureaucratic red tape, readily comparing the Dominion's immigration system with the high standards of membership acceptance the Brotherhood showed to outsiders. His assumption wasn't that far off, as the Dominion indeed required much from the wasters planning to join their sovereign nation.
However, the rewards proved to be well worth the effort. Citizenship was the most sought after status in the Dominion's hierarchy, which promised benefits and privileges unavailable to non-citizens. This included access to premium-levels of market items such as higher caliber ballistic and energy weapons, vehicles, higher levels of healthcare and the keys to Elysion itself.
The domed city of Elysion, Karter heard stories about it before from Dex at Outpost Seven. For Brand and the initiates, it was a day of firsts. At this point, Brand could no longer remain skeptical and he found himself sharing the same amazement his subordinates expressed when they heard about the seemingly mythical domed city sitting on top of a terraformed landscape, sheltered from the harrowing nature of the Wasteland.
The paladin took in the rows upon rows of benches filled with people queueing up or waiting for their number to be called. Signs like 'Visitors', 'Traders', 'New Applicants' hung from the ceiling by tiny strings, aiding the literate in finding their way through the maze of queueing lines, interviewing booths and office cubicles. To the illiterate, several MP's were posted to assist in guiding them to the proper path, thereby eliminating unnecessary crowding.
Dominion society valued efficiency and it showed, even through something as simple as the Immigration Center. They were well-organized, methodical and prompt. Bureaucracy, for them, benefited the Dominion and its people rather than simply act as an obstacle.
Presently, Brand arrived at the front desk of the 'New Applicants' section. After wandering around aimlessly for a few minutes, an MP directed him and his team towards the proper line. There were dozens of wasters sitting in the same section as the paladin. It was fortunate for Brand to arrive at the time when he did, as the High Marshal instituted many reforms that helped reduce the requirements for Dominion citizenship.
"Welcome to Immigration, sir. Please have a seat." The interviewer greeted Brand with a warm smile barely obscured by an air of formality. She turned her body towards the computer sitting on top of her desk and put up a new file for him. "What is your name, sir?"
She wore a military dress uniform, so the paladin knew she wasn't a civilian. By then, he was getting used to seeing the Dominion military everywhere. Her hair bothered him somewhat due to its bright red hue, which served as a constant reminder of the redhead lieutenant he had the displeasure of meeting at the Corpse Coast. She was pretty, there was no denying that, but Brand started to wonder if Lt. Hope Weiss ruined redheads for him.
"Brand. Just Brand."
"Ah, no surname, I see." Her fingers danced across the keyboard.
"No, that's my name. Just Brand." The paladin explained, "First name; Just. Last name; Brand."
The woman looked at him humorously as her smile broadened, "Oh? Interesting. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Cpl. Adele Leeds, I will be assisting you in your application procedures. Please answer the questions as truthfully as possible."
"I understand." The paladin said with a nod.
"Good. Let's begin."
The corporal then proceeded to bombard Brand with an overwhelming number of questions. She asked him about his place of origin, about any known preexisting medical conditions, if he was educated or not. She also asked about any familial relations as well as his marital status. No amount of preparation could've readied the paladin for the interview, much less the initiates he brought along with him. In the end, there was more truth mixed in with their answers than lies.
"Alright then, last question." Leeds glanced up and noticed Brand sweating nervously, "You alright?"
"Um...yeah. Just a bit nervous is all." He confessed, "I never had to answer so many questions before. I hope that's not a problem?"
"No, it's fine." Leeds smiled again, much to Brand's relief. "Let's move on, shall we? I'm sure you're eager to begin your orientation as soon as possible."
"Oh don't worry, I find your company incentive enough to stick around a little longer." Brand blurted in spite of himself. It was a stupid thing to say, one that the paladin mentally chastised himself for, but there was no way to take it back now.
Leeds felt her cheeks burn at the suggestive remark, however, she concentrated on getting her job done. There were hundreds of applicants more for her to go through, there was no time to engage the waster in idle conversation, much less in coquetry. Still, it was nice to veer off the formalities every now and then. "Do you have any existing skills that could contribute to the state?"
Brand thought long and hard about what he would say. He knew this part of the interview could determine his place in Carlon, and he made it a point to blend in the best way possible. Playing it safe could land him a job that he could most benefit from, as well as hide him from prying eyes. But he remembered his mission. He was there to spy, and there was probably one place in all the Dominion where spying worked best- the army.
So, he dropped the hint. "I have...weapons training. Extensive weapons training."
Leeds glanced at him, focusing her attention at the mention of that particular set of skills. "Could you specify what weapons?"
"Ballistics, small-arms and high caliber. Energy-weapons, laser and plasma."
"And how did you manage to acquire these skills, if you don't mind me asking?"
Brand prepared himself for that question well ahead and had his answer ready, "My training was not formal, but I learned them during my travels through the Wasteland. Out there, you can pick up a lot of skills, some of them you'd never think you'd get. We're not all primitive out there, you know."
"Of course." Cpl. Leeds acknowledged as she typed down everything he mentioned, "Anything else?"
"I dabbled in programming, hacked a lot of pre-war computers back when I was in more...dire situations. I also have some experience with explosives, basic medicine, repairs." Brand paused, "And...hmm, I think that's about it."
The keys rapped gently under her graceful touch, "Thank you."
The printer followed with a noisy whir, Brand waited until it finished his file printout before inquiring of the next step. "Will that be all?"
"Getting there, there's a few things you need to know." Leeds informed him, "You have no relatives who have attained citizenship, therefore your categorization would be an employment-based immigration. Under that category, you will be required to serve a standard civilian eight year term before attaining Dominion citizenship. However, it seems that you're in luck. There's a need for people like you in the Dominion."
"Really? How?"
"Normally, I would leave the job-hunting to you, but as it turns out your skillset makes you eligible for the army."
Brand pretended to be surprised, "You think so?"
"Yes, I do." Leeds said with a nod as she stapled his form together and placed them inside a red folder, "And it's not without its benefits, either. Serving in the army requires only a five year term of service. After that, you can consider yourself a Dominion citizen. Although of course, if it does seem a bit too steep for your blood, you can work security, but that requires the civilian term."
"Can I...think about it?"
"Of course, no need to rush something like this." The corporal handed him his file, "In the end, it's your play. Now, follow the yellow line on the floor to orientation, they'll help you get to know our nation better."
"Thank you, corporal." Brand got up to leave, "See you later."
Leeds nodded to him and turned back to her computer. The paladin stepped out of the cubicle, then noticed that his team had been sent to other cubicles like him. They've begun the procedure of applying for citizenship and were now at the last sections of their interviews. The initiates fared better there than they did with the military checkpoints outside, much to Brand's relief.
Following the yellow line on the floor, just like the corporal instructed, the paladin searched for the orientation chamber and walked through its doors. He found a large room containing several rows of neatly lined desks, each with their own computer monitors fixed on top. Everyone else had already started without him, each immigrant wore a set of headphones and had their eyes glued to the monitors as though they were watching something.
"Take a seat, waster." The guard said, pointing to one of the vacant chairs. "You want me to show you how to use them?"
"Relax, I got this." Brand replied, his tone growing tight with annoyance.
He made his way through the aisles and sat down on one of the chairs, pulling it in so he could sit comfortably. He took a minute to study the screen, and realized that it was a video presentation, serving well as the new immigrants' orientation on the basic aspects of Dominion society. The paladin donned his headphones and reached for the keyboard to hit play.
The music that came with the overture was upbeat and inspiring, designed to hype up the listener and keep its attention focused on the message. But just as Brand was getting into the tune, the video of the fluttering flag of the Dominion came into view- the standard of the silver eagle with the white laurel adorning its wings on a black cloth.
The scene switched to a man in a black pre-war business suit with a red tie. His greeting, in contrast to Cpl. Leeds, was matter-of-factly and bordering on cold, almost monotonous like a machine. Brand thought that they could've put more effort into a pre-recorded video, even more so on their people skills. "Good day, wastelander. If you're watching this, it means that you've taken the first step in your journey to joining the thousands of citizens of this great nation. But first, before we go any further, I would like to introduce you to someone very important."
The image of a stern looking man in his late sixties replaced the fluttering flag in the background. He was dressed in a pre-war styled general's dress uniform, complete with medals and a ceremonial belt around his waist. Just by looking at the photo, Brand could see that there was no pretension in the man's demeanor.
"This is High Marshal Roman Stern, sovereign leader of the Dominion- and now your sovereign leader."
"No. Not mine." Brand whispered, preparing himself for a long day of listening to Dominion propaganda.
The orientation video touched the subject of every aspect of import, especially the Dominion's military, paramilitary and law enforcement sectors. The information the paladin garnered, which he considered substantial, was in fact superficial. Trade secrets were, as always, known only to certain circles. Then came the law itself, which was a combination of some common and civil laws originating from Old America.
It was strict as it was brutally direct, with violations often resulting in capital punishment.
The Judges, a constituted paramilitary body dedicated to enforce the law alongside the Peacekeeper Division, were sanctioned by the Dominion government to maintain order in its territories. The justice system in the Dominion was particularly swift as judges combined the role of police officer, judge, jury and executioner, enabling them to hold trials and passing sentences to convicted criminals on the spot. Legal representation was only made available to Dominion citizens, though sometimes the citizens themselves may act as their own legal representative as thorough knowledge of Dominion law was a requirement for most citizens, thereby making them legally 'competent'.
Next, Brand watched an introduction into the Dominion's healthcare sector, which as he had guessed beforehand was a tiered system.
Tier Three was the most basic healthcare system provided to non-citizens. A charity program financed from the Dominion's own pocket. This tier's coverage included wasters, asylees, and refugees.
Tier Two was the average immigrant's provided healthcare system, which offered a slightly above average set of benefits like access to reconstructive technologies and vaccinations.
Tier One was reserved for Dominion citizens and was the highest form of healthcare system available. It encompassed both Tier Three and Two benefits as basic perks, but what set it apart from the previous tiers was the highly coveted pinnacle of medical science and engineering- cybernetic enhancements.
This served to anger Brand as he saw the Dominion's advanced healthcare system as capitalism embodied, with technology once again being misused by its elite, an ideal that clashed against Brotherhood doctrine. It didn't even matter to him that the system was well structured, with the Dominion's elite contributing more to society through taxation while the middle class and the poor barely had to pay anything back, thus maintaining a well balanced economy.
They were the enemy of the Brotherhood. They must be destroyed.
By the end of the day, Brand felt it was time to begin the next phase of his mission. Now that he and his team had undergone the first naturalization procedures, they were ready to fully integrate themselves within the Dominion's people. He didn't know how long they would have to stay for the mission, but he would make damn sure that he would make the most of it.
Brand met up with his team outside the Immigration Center and conducted a brief meeting at the truck. He sat down and placed his hands on the steering wheel, his mood seething as the orientation still burned fresh on his mind.
"Well, that was...informative." Scribe Karter remarked.
"That's putting it mildly." Brand replied, turning his head to speak with the youths hanging on to his every word. "This changes nothing. You hear me, initiates? Don't let yourselves be distracted by the fanfare the Dominion's throwing at us. We're better than that!"
There were nods all around as the initiates acknowledged the paladin's conviction. "Ad Victoriam, right paladin?"
"Damn right." Brand said, satisfied that he'd made his point. He twisted the ignition knob under the steering wheel and woke up the old machine. "Let's go look for a place to spend the night. Then, we'll discuss our next course of action there."
The truck veered off the parking lot and joined the dozens of other vehicles down the road into Midtown Carlon. There, the bright yellow neon lights of the Oasis drew the attention of the Brotherhood devotees. Heads turned and mouths dropped open at the sight of the beautiful girls sitting at the building entrance. A new marble fountain had been erected just above the stairs running up into its open doors, and some of the whores were dancing under its warm showers.
"Eyes forward, boys." Karter cautioned, "Lily, you too."
"Sorry." Little Lily squeaked as she hid her reddening face.
"Just as I thought, they'd color themselves as an enlightened society but they're not so different." Brand muttered.
"To be fair, that's a job that's never gonna disappear." Karter said with a shrug, "It's the oldest profession in the world."
"Under the guidance of the Brotherhood, it will be."
"With all due respect, sir, if you're that uptight all your life you'll die alone."
She basically called him a 'prude', and because she'd served with him the longest Brand knew that she knew she could get away with it. And so, he let it slide. "Noted, Karter."
The paladin drove on until he came upon a place with the large sign 'Rooms For Rent' hanging over it. He pulled up to the parking space and turned off the ignition. He ordered the initiates to take their bags with them while he went in to speak with the manager.
"You got any rooms available?" He asked the old man sitting at the front desk separated with a wire-mesh barrier.
"Plenty." The manager curtly replied without taking his eyes off of the book he was reading. "Rent's a hundred DC's per three day stay, covers water and electricity."
"Is that per room?" Brand inquired.
"Yeah, how many do you need?"
"Two." The paladin said, taking into consideration that there were women on his team. Segregation was necessary in avoiding complications, and Brand wished to limit their spending to a minimum while they were still starting out. "Preferably ones with double-decked beds. There's twelve of us."
"Give me a sec'." The manager reluctantly put down his book and walked over to the table opposite of his desk. He fished out a ring full of keys and consulted his records for vacant rooms, then handed two copper-colored keys to the paladin. "You got rooms B-12 and B-13, second floor. Keep in mind, I'll come to collect the rent in due time."
"Of course." Brand reached for the keys, but the manager pulled them away just as his fingers brushed against its teeth.
"House rule. Don't try to weasel out of it, you hear me? You break it just once, I'm throwing you out."
"Wouldn't dream of it." The paladin said seriously, "Now, are you gonna give me the keys or not?"
The manager dropped the keys into Brand's waiting hand and sent them on their way. The team ascended the stairs and crossed over through the corridor which overlooked the inner patio in the middle of the apartment complex, then approached their respective rooms. The men took B-12, while the women took B-13. Inside each room were two double-decked beds, a small kitchen and a bathroom, complete with a toilet, sink and shower stall.
"Huh, look at that!" Mace sat down and bounced on top of one of the bunks, "Feels just like home."
"Don't get too comfortable with this place, it's only temporary." Brand said, "Alright, drop your gear and listen up. I want you to share what you've told the Immigration officers back there and what they've said in turn. Let's start with you, Mace."
There wasn't much different about the experiences between the initiates and the paladin, as both shared pretty much the same background to make their stories believable. The same thing happened with the women in their team when Brand referred to Karter's report. It resulted in the recommendations for their future occupations falling within a single category. The Dominion needed soldiers, and Brand's team was full of good candidates. However, the paladin knew that if they all joined the Army, it may attract unwanted attention.
The arrival of a group of wasters, who were all similarly trained in combined arms would be...suspicious.
"We're not all gonna sign up in the Dominion Army." Brand decided, sharing his thoughts with the scribe as they walked over to the balcony just across the corridor. "We can't. Too risky."
"I agree." Karter said, "If I may, it would seem that out of all of us who would best fit that role would be you, paladin."
"That's kind of you to say."
Karter wasn't finished, "However, as the leader of this team, it is highly recommended that you serve a role wherein you'd maintain a certain freedom of movement. Joining the Army would hinder your capabilities, and you will be watched closely, assuming that the Dominion keeps close tabs on its soldiers as we do."
"That is true." Brand mused, "But when I succeed in gaining their trust, climb up the ranks, gain citizenship in due time...it would be greatly beneficial to the mission in the long run."
"Why? Are you looking for a way into Elysion?"
The paladin turned to look at her with a mixture of humor and incredulity, "Aren't you?"
"I suppose it wasn't that big of a priority to me until now."
"Priorities change, but the mission is of utmost importance." Brand stopped at the edge of the balcony and turned his eyes to the massive billboard standing next to the busy street intersection, where the picture of the domed city was so proudly displayed. The beating heart of the Dominion lay within a few miles of Carlon City, and the paladin vowed that he would stand at its gates.
"I will walk the streets of Elysion one day, once before we leave for good and spearhead the vanguard of the Brotherhood."
"After that, what comes next?" Karter inquired.
His answer echoed the words of Elder Corvinus, but they nonetheless carried the weight of his conviction. In his eyes, nothing here stood for progress. Not the cities, not the people, not the ideals. They were shadows of a dead civilization, playing at order. There was only one hope for the Wasteland, and it certainly was not the Dominion. "They will bow to correction, or we will burn it all down."
"Ad Victoriam?"
"Ad Victoriam."
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Credits go to Blaze1992 and BrotherCaptainSheperd for the ideas that inspired the Dominion Tiered System.