Chapter Two

0712 hours, February 24, 2554 (military calendar)

Highway 95

State of Nevada, Planet Earth, Sol System

The portal leading to Gamma Halo didn't reopen during the night and nor did it the night after that, leaving Ryan to conclude that he would be calling this radioactive Earth his new home for the foreseeable future which meant coming up with a plan to ensure he would alive when, if, the portal reappeared.

Part of that included trying to figure out what had happened to Earth though, bizarrely, that didn't take too long as he quickly came to the conclusion he had been transported to some parallel version of humanity's homeworld. Too many things were wrong for it to have been a Covenant remnant or Insurrectionist attack, and considering the truly amazing feats the Forerunners had achieved Ryan couldn't rule out the possibility they had, to some small degree, managed to create a means of travelling to parallel worlds with him simply having the misfortune to stumble across the device. The fact it was buried in the depths of a Halo probably meant it was a prototype however, and Ryan counted himself lucky nothing had gone wrong when he used it.

Outside of the fact he was now stranded, of course, with no discernible means of reactivating the portal from this side and no guarantee that the ONI science teams would be able to do the same on their end. Still, he was alive and that was the most important thing.

With that sorted, the question then became one of figuring out what he could do to survive until a chance to go home made itself known. Subsisting off the various scrub brushes and whatever mutated animals he could hunt was one option, if not particularly appealing, but there was another possibility. Whilst the hardened uplink and the command network module attached to his helmet had failed to pick up anything from the UNSC, UEG or even CAA, they had detected enough radio signals to suggest some form of civilisation still existed following the nuclear bombardments.

That meant people with things to sell like food and ammo, though it presented Ryan with a problem because he had no idea what passed for currency and neither did he know for certain which of his skills would be of value to the people here. His combat ability was probably the likeliest thing but despite this, he found himself reluctant to engage in such a field of employment given his isolated nature. Repairing any damage to his equipment was now no longer a simple matter of handing it over to certified technicians with ample spares and the necessary diagrams, but relying on either his own skills or that of the locals who, likely as not, had never seen anything like Mjolnir armour before.

Until he knew for certain how potent the local weapons were that avenue of work was closed off, meaning he had to think of another solution. Outside of menial tasks that might involve heavy lifting or entering contaminated areas, one viable option could be the loaning of Artoria's codebreaking skills. Her intended function was that of interfacing with non-UNSC computer systems after all, a major part of which included defeating their various security protocols and Ryan had no doubt she would perform just as well against the local computers as she had the Forerunner's.

This had already been proven to a degree as some of the signals filling the airwaves were encoded with what was probably military grade encryption schemes considering the content of their messages, yet despite this it hadn't taken Artoria any time at all to defeat them and let Ryan listen in. If the same held true for the local systems then he imagined her services would be in high demand to finally unlock whatever pre-bomb computers were still stubbornly guarding their secrets. And if not them, then perhaps the local military might be more interested.

From the sound of things, and going by the different sets of encryption schemes and frequencies in use, Ryan surmised there were at least three groups currently locked in battle nearby and he knew all too well the importance of intercepting enemy communications. But which of the factions to offer his services to, if it came to that?

The first was the New California Republic which, with any luck, was either a republic in the same vein as the old United States or maybe even a successor to it, and from what he could infer from the commercial radio stations it held control over most of the old American Southwest. Being the largest faction probably meant it had access to all the supplies Ryan might want or need, though it was also locked in battle with the other two factions which suggested all might not be well within the republic.

To the west, it faced opposition from the Brotherhood of Steel and had been for the last thirty years, according to news snippets detailing them, and based on the use of archaic titles like Knight and Paladin in their communiques Ryan pictured them as an organisation akin to the armies who served under King Arthur, complete with plate armour or chain mail as they hefted longswords and shields into battle, which seemed at odds with their apparent technological level. The encryption schemes they used were more robust than those of the NCR, suggesting access to more advanced equipment and computers, but their modes of address were like something from the Dark Ages.

It was a similar story in the east where the NCR found itself facing off against a group called Caesar's Legion and they, like the Brotherhood, had taken inspiration from history when it came to names and organisation. Only, they had gone a little further back to the times of ancient Rome under Julius Caesar. Reports from the NCR made plenty of mentions of things like legionaries, decanus and centurion, but that was as far as the similarities with the armies of Rome went as the reports continued on to detail some truly horrific tactics being employed by the Legion.

Human shields were commonplace, as was the use of child soldiers and faked surrenders to lure their opponents into brutal ambushes, the survivors of which would find themselves subjected to torturous abuse ahead of being crucified. They sounded more like sadistic bandits than they did a standing army and Ryan made a mental note to never work them regardless of the situation.

That just left either the Brotherhood or NCR as future allies, assuming he wasn't able to make a living from whatever civilians had need of his unique services. Exactly which of them, though, would have to wait until he learned more about the two groups and just sitting around in the cave wasn't going to accomplish that, meaning he had to leave it to find whatever bastions of civilisations still existed out in the wastes. Thankfully the radio continued to be an excellent source of information as it was able to provide a likely destination for him to try out; Las Vegas, or New Vegas as it was apparently now known.

Given how often it was mentioned across the various stations it had to be a prominent location with a population to match, and after stumbling across an old highway Ryan learned he was just over a hundred kilometres south of the place. He could be there within a day if he pushed himself but a two or three day march was more reasonable, doubly so considering he was either close to or within an active warzone with no idea what forces might be operating nearby. Better then to take things slow, lest he inadvertently find himself in the middle of a pitched battle.

But that being said, as far as he could tell there wasn't any fighting nearby that he could hear. No crackle of gunfire or boom of artillery, no screaming of the wounded, nothing. Even boosting his helmet's aural sensors didn't manage to capture anything but the soft rustling of the wind and the crunch of dirt beneath his boots, and had it not been for the various radio stations Ryan could well have believed he was alone on the planet with his only companions being the skeletal remains of the old world, still dutifully strapped into the rusted out hulks of their cars that lined the old highway.

It remained that way until he just a few kilometres south of a town called Searchlight when a hazy, indistinct shape faded into view on the far horizon. At first Ryan dismissed it, thinking it to be a wreck or shack or even a trick of the desert air, but after a minute or two he realised it was drifting from side to side and coming into focus more quickly than everything else around it. That meant it was moving, and that meant it was alive. Maybe even human.

He came to a quick stop when that realisation hit and pulled out a pair of binoculars, focusing them on the now not so distant shape to reveal it was indeed a human, a man, who looked largely unaltered by the radiation. There were no extra appendages growing from someplace they shouldn't and nor did the ones the man possessed appear sickly or misshapen, though any mutations he might have could well be hidden beneath his armour which was made of a dark coloured material. Leather, maybe, which Ryan felt was a bad option considering the heat but it could have also been dyed denim or canvas.

He also felt a little disappointed that the first person he had seen in the American Southwest wasn't wearing a duster, and neither was he carrying the weapons so strongly associated with it. Instead of a lever-action he had a short barrelled magazine-fed rifle slung over one shoulder and a modernish looking pistol nestled inside a thigh holster, though it was difficult to be certain that's what it was. At the very least he had on a battered looking cowboy hat to protect against the sun, plus some dark aviators, so it wasn't a complete loss.

A few minutes later the wastelander came a stop and brought out a pair of binoculars himself, having finally noticed the immobile Spartan, before doing the same as Ryan had of examining the unknown figure.

'What do you think?' Ryan said a moment later. 'He look friendly?'

'I cannot say, Sir Spartan,' Artoria said. 'He is not dressed in a manner one would expect of brigands, though equally we do not know for certain what their manner of dress is. At the very least, he has sent no missives to any potential compatriots that may wish us harm that I can detect and nor has he made any overt motions should they be relying on more archaic methods of communication.'

He also wasn't reaching for his weapon or turning tail at the sight of a faceless, armoured figure that was easily seven feet tall which Ryan took as a good sign. It also seemed unlikely that his first encounter with a resident of this world would be a bandit or raider, to use the local term, rather than a regular person out on a scavenging run or just a drifter heading to their next destination. About a minute later the man offered up a small, curt wave that could have either been a way to show he had no ill will or just serve as a distraction whilst his buddies snuck closer.

'Friendly?' Ryan said again.

'I cannot say,' Artoria said with a hint of a sigh. 'As mentioned, he has made no obvious signs of hostility towards us but that does not preclude the possibility he is serving as a lure for a larger group, hidden elsewhere.'

Ryan pondered the matter for a few seconds more before raising a hand of his own to return the wave, giving the same quick motion the man had to signal his own good intentions. It wouldn't do to treat everyone he saw out in the wastes with absolute suspicion and as Artoria had said, he hadn't signalled anyone and neither was she picking up any transmissions that pertained to them. That, and his gut was leaning towards the guy being good.

'We'll treat him as a friendly,' Ryan said, lowering his binoculars. 'For now, and see what he does.'

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

'Shoot him.'

0848 hours, February 24, 2554 (military calendar)

Highway 95

State of Nevada, Planet Earth, Sol System

They met in the shade of a collapsed gantry that was resting on the rusted hulk of an old trailer unit, offering some small amount of protection from the harsh desert sun, and as they had from afar both sides spent a good detail of time examining the other now they were up close.

As with his earlier assessment there was nothing Ryan saw that gave him cause for concern, the wastelander actually looking quite average. He was an inch or two under six feet, neither too muscular or skinny, no obvious tumours or lesions indicative of disease, with a weathered complexion typical of people that lived in desert climates. He had endured a fair share of punishment as well it seemed, judging by the fact that almost every patch of exposed skin had some nick or scar on it. So either life in the wastes was harsh or this guy had chosen a profession that saw him head into danger on a frequent basis. Maybe both.

Otherwise there wasn't really much of interest about him. His gear looked used but well cared for, his weapons were within easy reach should the need suddenly arise, and he had no obvious mutations one might expect from people who lived in a radioactive wasteland. About the only thing that stood out was a strange device he wore in his left forearm, some bulky thing with a screen and several buttons that reminded Ryan of the TACPADs worn by officers or the UGPS he himself had, its screen projecting only an estimated location given the lack of satellite connections.

For his part, the wastelander was staring Ryan up and down with no small amount of fascination and, weirdly, a hint of familiarity like he had either seen Mjolnir armour or something like it before, only to reach the same conclusion he wasn't a threat and say, 'Good morning.'

'Morning,' Ryan said, offering a nod of the head. 'Off anywhere interesting?'

'Not really,' the man said. 'Some caves south of here. I was thinking of checking them out. You?'

'Vegas,' Ryan said. 'I'm new to the area and I'm hoping to get some supplies and info, maybe work if there's anything going.'

'Yeah, you don't look like you're from around here,' the man said as he examined the NOBLE-class armour of Ryan again and the MA5K on his back. 'As for work, I'm sure you won't have much trouble. Plenty of calls for guards and the like considering the fighting. And the disappearances.'

'Disappearances?'

The man paused for a moment as though he had let slip something he shouldn't have before deciding to continue on, saying, 'Yeah, a bunch of people have gone missing over the past few months and I've been asked to try and help figure out what's happening.'

'And you think they're down this way?' Ryan said, glancing upwards to a sign still stubbornly clinging to the gantry they were stood beneath that proclaimed Vegas to still be a good hundred kilometres away.

Again the man paused though it was more from embarrassment than anything else, complete with a rueful rubbing of the back of his head.

'Honestly? No,' he said. 'I've just hit a brick wall up there so I thought a walk in the wastes would clear my head a little. Hell, the only reason I'm down this far is because of some obscure legend about a cave that 'eats' people. Probably just cannibals but hey, you never know.'

He gave an exaggerated shrug to show what he thought of the idea but Ryan couldn't help wonder if the cave that ate people was the same one he had appeared in. After all, getting transported into the depths of a massive ringworld in a parallel world probably counted as being eaten by most people's standards, especially if nobody ever came back. More importantly, if a legend had sprung up around it then it meant the portal appeared on a fairly regular basis. How regularly, though, was another question.

'Could be worth checking out,' Ryan said. 'Every legend has some kernel of truth in it. And if it is cannibals, then I'm sure the world wouldn't mind if they were taken out. Do you know where it is?'

'No,' the man said with a shake of the head. 'Just that it's somewhere along Highway 95 between Searchlight and I-40. All forty miles of it.'

He peered past Ryan to trace the highway as it wound southward until it was lost beyond the horizon, and then to the hills and dunes that sat either side of the road. An entire battalion of troops would be hard pressed to cover all that ground within a reasonable timeframe let alone a solitary person, especially if there was no way of knowing how far from the road said cave might be. It could have been half a kilometre from it or five, exponentially increasing the area to search, and on finally seeing the full scope of the task or at least saying it aloud to someone else the man finally grasped the futility of his endeavour.

Then again, it sounded like finding the cave was just being used as an excuse to get away from whatever city life the man had to come explore the wastes. Why he would want to do that bemused Ryan who figured being secure in a city was a markedly better situation than strolling through a landscape hiding all sorts of dangers.

A moment later the man let out a sigh and said, 'It was always a longshot, anyway. There's no way I could have found anything here.'

'Probably not,' Ryan said.

The man nodded in agreement as he continued to stare southwards before returning his attention to Ryan, once more examining the gear he had and said, 'If you're looking for work around Vegas, why not join up with me to find those missing people? Two eyes are better than one and you look capable enough in case things turn hairy, and I can introduce you to some people I know that might have more jobs if things don't work out between us.'

'I'd appreciate that,' Ryan said. 'Sure.'

'Great,' the man said before holding his hand out to shake, which Ryan accepted. 'Name's Camry, by the way. Hank Camry. So, where you from?'