Enclave Control Tower

On the average day, the Ashville Air Traffic Control Tower, or Enclave Control Tower, was where Colonel Autumn spent most of his time. It was here, along with the Command Bunker, that the Enclave was coordinated and managed. Restoring both facilities had taken a lot of effort and material, but Autumn had insisted that it be done regardless. As his instructors had taught him many years ago, men and guns won battles, but having clear lines of communication, command structure and logistics was what won wars.

His officers worked together like a well-oiled machine, busying themselves with all that was needed to prepare the Enclave for the war. Captain Mosley and Lieutenant Patchett went over battle plans for use against the Rebels. Richard's efforts to prepare for a Presidential Election were temporarily halted as he was called upon to coordinate the reactivation of the Thunderbirds, the last squadron of American Jet Fighters.

Autumn himself had just finished establishing an emergency alert system with most of their remaining neighboring settlements. The leaders of the towns of Muldraugh, Rosewood, and West Point had all agreed to have a small but permanent garrison of American Troops stationed within their neighborhoods, with two main goals. The first was to act as a supplement force for defense against raids, but their second objective was to act as an Early Warning, to signal for reinforcements should the Confederates attack. It had been tough to get them to play along, but none of them wanted to end up like Checkpoint or the Schoolyard.

The fourth and final settlement, nestled in the radioactive ruins of Louisville, was a different story. The Enclave did not maintain a permanent line of communication with "Zombietown," but after some hesitation, Autumn had still decided to reach out to them. He'd received a short refusal, which, while disappointing, wasn't unexpected. Autumn only hoped that there was nothing to Mosley's fears that they would side with the Confederacy, but if they did decide to turn against America, the mutants wouldn't live to regret it.

Hoping to catch his breath, Autumn stepped out of the building and onto the balcony of the tower, hoping for a moment's rest. It was a far cry from his silent and stuffy office, being both noisy and open, which were two things that he appreciated. Howling winds offered a nice backdrop to the day-to-day noise of the airbase, carrying the sound of vehicle engines, gunfire from the firing range, and a drill instructor shouting at their unfortunate subordinates. The view was quite nice as well, although it was slightly dampened by heavy cloud cover.

Autumn did not remain alone for long, as only a minute or so after he'd stepped out, he heard the door swing open behind him. He turned to see Arcade leaving the control center, his shoulders sagged with exhaustion as he carried a medical clipboard under his arm. For a moment he said nothing, only standing beside him before he took a long, deep breath. "I've finished questioning the new prisoners."

Autumn nodded, remembering the pair of broken and bloodied men that Captain Sherman had brought to the Ashville County Jail a little over three days ago. After a long and headache-inducing debate between Arcade and Angela about the usage of excessive force, Arcade had eventually agreed to take on the duty of interrogating them. "I pray our guests were at least coherent enough to give you something?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," Arcade began, his voice distant and distracted. "Both men are Psycho addicts, just like Angela suspected. Even with Fixer infusions, they were barely coherent enough to speak, and judging by some of their vitals, they probably dosed themselves well beyond any limits during the battle."

Autumn raised an eyebrow, noting something that he was hoping Arcade had also caught onto. "And how many other chem addicts are fighting for the Confederacy?"

"A lot, according to Joel Wilikers," Arcade answered. "I think what you told him stuck, he had a lot more to say when I talked to him this time. He told me that the Confederacy uses slave labor to grow everything that they need to manufacture their own version of Psycho. They use the addiction to keep their soldiers loyal, and since it's Psycho... it can help motivate them to do things they normally wouldn't."

Autumn grimly nodded, a strong feeling of disgust growing within him. "Did he have anything else to share?"

"He did, even drew me a map of the Confederacy's borders when I asked him too, although Mosley ordered me to give it to him on my way here," Arcade answered with thinly-disguised annoyance. "If you want the short version, it's not good news. If he's telling the truth, and I believe that he is, the Confederacy dominates most of the old Gulf Commonwealth, with territory reaching out into Louisiana, Georgia, Tennessee... and now Kentucky."

Autumn felt a strong cold run through his body at Arcade's words. Any post-war power that could occupy such a vast stretch of land had to have a major population, perhaps even a degree of industrial might. "They'd need a strong line of logistics to reach this far north, to say nothing of their military strength."

"He mentioned that too," Arcade's contagious exhaustion only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. "He's pretty confident that the Confederates we found at Checkpoint were the rest of his unit, the 25th Alabama Infantry Regiment. Logical deduction implies the existence of at least twenty-four others... and apparently a lot of them have some much more advanced technology. He's even said that he's seen Officers wearing Power Armor."

The chilling revelations were dulled only by the quick math that Autumn was running in his head. Frontline manpower might not have been the only important element of warfare, but it was still important, and already there was a pretty ugly picture being painted in his mind. He'd already been able to plausibly guess that the Enclave was outnumbered, but assuming that their prisoner's testimony was accurate, it was by a lot more than he'd first assumed.

At the same time, being outnumbered wasn't something that they couldn't necessarily handle. America's Army had been configured to fight against overwhelming numbers since even before the Sino-American War, and the Enclave's Department of the Army continued on that legacy. Everything from the doctrine of their forces to the design decisions of their Power Armor reflected the philosophy of quality over quantity, which even the colossal Pre-War American Military had managed to maintain, at least to some degree.

The trouble was the matter of scale. Ashville was a single town of a little over two-thousand residents, the Enclave was three regiments, a squadron of Vertibird gunships, and soon a handful of fighter jets. A capable force, but when faced against the potential might of a nation...

Masking his nerves as expertly as he always did, Autumn spoke just loudly enough for Arcade to hear him over the wind. "What do you think, Arcade? Can we take him at his word?"

Arcade's posture already answered Autumn's question, but the Doctor nodded regardless. "I've had to work with a lot of liars in the past, especially while I was with the Followers. I like to think I've gotten pretty good at telling when somebody's telling the truth... and unfortunately, I think Joel is."

There was an unmistakable note of despair in Arcade's voice, and Autumn found it hard not to empathize with him, at least to some degree. At the old Control Station, Navarro, and in the Capital Wasteland, the Enclave had been dealt harsh defeats even in far more ideal circumstances, only this time, there could be no room for failure.

As far as Autumn knew, Ashville was the last of the Enclave, there would be nobody else to carry the torch if they failed. The Confederacy had the power to do what China couldn't, and kill the American Dream. But only if the Enclave failed, and that would not happen on Autumn's watch.

Arcade flinched slightly as Autumn rested a hand on his shoulder. "Then America will weather this storm, just like we have every other. Between you and me, I doubt that George Washington was feeling particularly confident during his time in Valley Forge, but that doesn't change the fact that the Redcoats lost that war."

"That might be true," Arcade acknowledged as Autumn pulled his hand back, allowing himself to lean on the balcony's handrail. "But even then, what do you think winning is going to cost? How many people are going to get caught in the crossfire? Not only that, but using your analogy, what if we don't find a France to back us up?"

Autumn paused as he realized where a lot of Arcade's apprehension was no doubt coming from. "You're worried that this is going to turn out like the NCR's war."

Arcade shrugged. "Admittedly I was more of a power-armored bystander while Lucy, Johnson, and Moreno paved rivers of blood across Hoover Dam, but you get my point. It wasn't just the Legion that hurt innocent people, the NCR made a lot of mistakes too. And while I recognize we're not the NCR... we've hurt a lot of people too."

Autumn took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as he considered how best to address Arcade's concerns. Whilst it was arguably a good thing to be haunted by past mistakes that were as severe as the Enclave's were, there was a time and a place, and this was neither. "War is never a gentleman's game, Arcade. Innocent people will die in this conflict, I have no illusions about that fact, even if I hate it. That said, we can't let the Confederacy kidnap and murder as they see fit."

"I won't argue with that, but I'm saying that we should be careful," Arcade clarified. "The NCR hurt themselves, innocent people, and their reputation at places like Bitter Springs, and if we're not careful, we might end up doing the same thing."

Bitter Springs. Autumn remembered hearing about the massacre before, first from Arcade and his contingent of survivors, and then learning more from the Courier, Lucy. It had brought back a lot of uncomfortable memories that he had, reading over mission logs from the days of the Oil Rig, where Vertibird Assault Teams made entire villages of tribals disappear.

"I understand your concerns, and I share them. I don't want this war to turn out like the Capital Wasteland did. I won't repeat my mistakes, not again," Autumn stated, his voice firm. "We won't pull our punches with the Confederacy, but we're trying to free our people, not kill them."

Arcade spared a glance down towards the ground far beneath them, where a crew of technicians were wheeling an F-4E Phantom II fighter jet out of a hardened hangar. "...I take it you have a plan?"

"Seize the initiative, and exploit the element of surprise," Autumn surmised. "The Confederacy didn't know that we were here, and they likely still don't know our strength. As such, we're going on the offensive."

"I suppose that explains why Mosley wanted my map..." Arcade grumbled. "But what about Ashville and the towns around us?"

"That's what you and I will be handling," Autumn answered. "I'll keep the 69th Infantry under my command to safeguard Ashville and our airfield, but I'll detach Mojave Company to oversee the defense of our neighboring settlements, which I'll leave to you."

Arcade nodded, standing slightly more upright as he was given his orders. "I'll have to let the Clinic know they'll be operating without me for a while... but with Doctor Henry back on his feet I think they can handle it."

"Good, and with us holding down the fort, Franklin and Angela can run wild on the Rebels. That said, we've still got a handful of problems we'll need to address," Autumn stated. "We'll need every man and woman we have on the frontline if we're going to win, so our plans to restore the civilian government will need to be accelerated. We'll need to organize a Presidential Election, but Richard's too busy managing our planes to do it."

There was a quiet pause as Arcade seemingly deliberated over something, before he spoke up. "I hate to say it, but I think asking Judah to help is our best option."

Autumn briefly considered it himself. Judah Kreger was arguably one of the best officers the Enclave had left. He'd demonstrated his ability to do what Autumn himself struggled with, by keeping people with wildly different beliefs on the same side. That fact made it all the more disappointing that he had chosen to retire, but Autumn had respected his decision. The old veteran deserved his rest, although sadly, it seemed that it was about to be disturbed.

"I agree, although I think it's probably for the best if you ask him," Autumn said. "You know him best, and I'm afraid I have someone else that I need to bring out of retirement."

Arcade raised an eyebrow. "Really? Who else? I mean, there's Johnson, but he's-"

Autumn rolled his eyes. "Not him... We both know who I'm talking about. I've gone without a Command Sergeant Major this long, but I won't be able to do it during Wartime."

Arcade paused, his eyes widening with realization, before he gave a slow nod. "...I see. Well, I suppose if anybody's going to know what to do next, it's probably him... although we'll probably need more of those stims from Big Mountain."

"I'll put a call through and see if they have any," Autumn replied. "I'll also see if they have anything they can lend us for the war effort, although the last time I checked, they've had some issues of their own."

"If they can help, they will," Arcade reassured him. "And... I know you had some more ideas you wanted to talk about, but I think there's the big one we ought to consider. The new Power Armor design."

Autumn scowled, already knowing where this was going, and out of all of the endless debates in the Enclave, this one easily bothered him the most. While the documents and information recovered from the Pentagon had been invaluable, the Enclave had also, with some negotiation, been given the designs for an upgraded version of T-45d Power Armor from the Brotherhood of Steel's records. The Brotherhood had called the design "T-60a," a designation apparently borrowed from a Pre-War development project which hadn't gotten off of the ground before the bombs dropped.

T-60a was heavier and more durable than its origin suit, but perhaps most crucially, easier to manufacture. Ashville's industrial base was still developing, and struggled to even maintain the limited suits of Power Armor that the Enclave had left, but T-60a had been purpose-designed for production by Wastelanders. In theory, the effort needed to refurbish a dozen suits of Hellfire Power Armor could be used to create twice as many suits of T-60a.

Autumn had no qualms about using American-made designs, which is why he'd been happy to take the Pentagon's other secrets. Upgrades for their energy cells, fortification designs based off of technology from Vault-Tec, improved software for much of their computer equipment, and of course, the reactor design which they were going to be constructing in Ashville. But the T-60a design was a Brotherhood creation, forged by turncoats. Not exactly something he was all too keen on using even in the best of situations.

"Arcade, you know this is going to cause more issues than it solves," Autumn sternly retorted. "I might as well march down there and tell those men and women to put on a suit of Chinese body armor. While I imagine some of them will do it without question, others might have some understandable concerns about the quality of their equipment."

"It might be less of an issue than you think," Arcade argued. "Half of our men are still using Combat Armor! Besides, it wouldn't be manufactured by the Brotherhood, that should give them some comfort."

Autumn took a deep breath through his nose as he imagined the inevitable shitstorm that Mosley in particular would create about the issue. That said, a political shitstorm was certainly an easier issue to contend with then a shitstorm on the battlefield, something that more Power Armor could help to negate.

"It's not me you're going to have to convince. I'm not exactly thrilled to be working with maybe two-hundred suits of Power Armor as it is," Autumn admitted. "That being said, Ashville's foundries are going to keep working with our designs. If we're going to start repairing more of our old suits, we need the machines and workers to make it happen."

Already, Autumn had an idea about a potential ally that they could reach out to in that respect, and it didn't take long for Arcade to reach the same conclusion. "What about Muldraugh? They have their own tool factory, and they're just down the street. Caps would probably be an issue though, I don't think they'd take our dollars..."

"Leave that to me," Autumn said, reaching into one of the pockets of his overcoat, and pulling out what he'd been given earlier in the day. "Do you think something like this might convince them to help us?"

Arcade raised an eyebrow at the gold bar in Autumn's hand. "I thought the gold reserves were still buried in Fort Knox?"

"We're fairly certain that they are, but apparently one of our privates managed to find this one in the rubble," Autumn clarified. "But that's tomorrow's problem, I think we both have people who we need to speak with today."

Arcade nodded, a look of grim sympathy on his face. "Well, I hope you can convince him."

"I won't need to," Autumn pointed out. "He's a patriot."

The Next Day

Fort Knox

On the day that the bombs had fallen, and the world had ended, Fort Knox had been on the receiving end of several nuclear warheads. The two that had wrought the most damage were a strategic-scale weapon that had leveled Louisville, and a nuclear bunker buster that had been targeted at Fort Knox. The latter weapon had likely missed its original target, and struck the nearby Godman Army Airfield right on the runway.

The resulting crater was one of the major reasons why the Enclave had chosen Ashville as their new home, but it had also created a shockwave that had devastated the rest of the installation. Fort Knox was a ruin, one that only served America now as a training field and occasionally a salvaging yard. The bumpy, ruined roads jostled the M39 5-ton truck that Autumn was riding in the passenger seat of, before the truck ground to a halt next to the primary excavation site.

Autumn opened the passenger door to climb out, while a number of Enclave engineers climbed out of the back of the truck. They all quickly set to work joining the engineers who had already arrived earlier in the day, who were digging away the rubble that had, Autumn hoped, kept any enterprising scavengers away from a sizable portion of America's gold reserve. They were unfortunately forced to work with an incomplete blueprint of the fort, but judging by the amount of rubble that they'd already managed to move out of the way, Autumn was confident that they'd manage to get into the underground portion before long.

And thanks to the booming voice of a familiar face, it didn't take Autumn to find the man responsible for the efficiency of the engineers.

" You mo-ron! You call yourself an engineer?! Get your hands off of that winch before I break them off myself! " Command Sergeant Major Arch Dornan sternly ordered.

Dornan's voice was deafening even from a distance, barely even obscured by the Mark II Powered Combat Armor helmet that he wore. It was the same suit of armor that he'd used to fight his way out of Navarro with a contingent of survivors, and bore the scars and burns of dozens of battles, just like its operator.

A pale-faced Army Specialist hastily complied before Dornan could make good on his promise, as the Sergeant Major turned to another Sergeant, presumably the man's direct superior, and spoke with a decidedly quieter, but uncompromising tone. "Sergeant, you wouldn't happen to have any men who can read in your squad, would you? Get them over here while I think of something even this idiot can't fuck up!"

"Yes Sergeant Major," The Sergeant replied with equal haste, but notably less fear, before shouting for one of his own men to come over to replace the disgraced Specialist.

Over seventy years old, and he still yells like he's in his twenties. He really is one of a kind. Autumn thought with a smile as he stepped in. "Excuse me Sergeant Major, but if you're looking for something simple that needs doing, I believe that the Specialist could make sure that our trucks are recharged for when we need to leave. You can handle that, can't you, Specialist?"

Autumn lacked the ability to yell like Dornan did, but in the past, he'd found more success in a more soft-spoken form of intimidation. Yelling was for his Non-Commissioned Officers, after all. Apparently he still had his skills as well, as between him and Dornan, the poor Specialist looked like he'd been shaken to his core. "Yes Sir!"

" Then why don't you get to it, Specialist? " Dornan ordered, and even Autumn felt a chill go down his spine. Somehow, the veteran seemed all that much scarier when he wasn't shouting.

The Specialist ran off without a second thought, and Autumn gave Dornan a respectful nod. "I'm glad to see that you've settled back into your duties."

Dornan returned the gesture, and spoke with a calmness that felt strange, coming from a man with his reputation. "It was nice to take some time off, but from what I've seen so far, I shouldn't have bothered retiring. Some of these men have gotten sloppy, but I'll straighten them out."

"I have no doubts about it," Autumn said. "How goes the excavation?"

"So far so good. Certain delays aside, of course," Dornan grumbled. "The main vault's empty, but judging by some of the records we've recovered, that only had a part of the gold. Scavengers appear to have made off with most of it, but we've managed to find a few bars in the rubble."

Autumn smiled, so far, everything appeared to be going better than he'd hoped for. "Most scavengers don't have the tools we do."

"Damn right sir, or cratering charges," Dornan noted with a huff of amusement. "We've tried using the dynamite, but this place was built to last. We had to up our caliber pretty quickly."

"And the engineers are certain that they won't collapse the tunnels?" Autumn asked. While he had faith in Dornan's management, it still couldn't hurt to confirm that his concerns were unfounded.

"One of them said that we could drop a Davy Crockett on this place and still not collapse it," Dornan answered. "Right now they're rigging a charge around one of the maintenance tunnels. It should be enough to get us inside. Assuming that they don't fuck it up, it should be ready in just a few minutes."

Autumn gave a small nod. "Good. Hopefully we'll be able to find enough gold to suit our purposes."

"And if not, at least our engineers now remember how to do their jobs," Dornan grumbled.

It didn't take long before the charges were in place, and everyone was called upon to stand back while they were detonated. There were enough explosives set that every man, woman, and vehicle needed to take shelter several-hundred meters from the blast. Finally, once everyone was safe, the order to detonate the blast was given, and a colossal explosion erupted as the engineers whooped and cheered. Autumn half-expected Dornan to silence them, but the old man remained silent, seemingly content to let them have their fun, just this once.

As Autumn and Dornan approached the new, impressively-sized crater, they could see that an opening to a subterranean passageway had been created. By the looks of it, they'd blown through concrete, rebar, and even a thin steel shell to reach the tunnel. All of it was caked in a thick layer of dust that hung in the air, and Autumn himself was already covered in it. "Impressive work gentlemen. Sergeant Major, your light?"

Dornan flicked the headlamps of his Power Armor on as he called out to his subordinates. "First squad, you're with me. Second squad, get this mess cleaned up, we're going to be hauling a lot of stuff out of here."

Autumn followed along as Dornan led the way into the tunnel, his lamp illuminating what the clouded sun had failed to, namely a lot more dust. The tunnel led further onwards however, and as the engineers behind them left a trail of chemlights to mark their path, Dornan continued to lead the group further into Fort Knox.

Dotted throughout the facility were a number of defensive fixtures, although none of them seemed to be operational. Automated laser turrets, defensive energy barriers, and proximity alarms all failed to react to their presence. The lack of power was likely to blame, although there was a small possibility that whatever systems remained might still recognize them as being American soldiers.

"I've got our map on my display here, from what it says, we're not that far from one of the secondary vaults," Dornan said. "Although if the rest of this place is this empty, I'm not sure what we're going to find there."

"Chin up Sergeant Major," Autumn replied. "If all of this dust is an indicator, this place hasn't been touched in a long time."

"I'll take your word for it Sir," Dornan remarked, before they arrived at a heavily reinforced airtight door. Dornan reached forward and turned the wheel on the hatch, his armor creaking as it worked to open the practically sealed mechanisms, until the locks came loose, and as the doors opened, a faint but terrible smell emerged from the other end. "Alright, let's-"

Dornan paused, as did everyone else, including Autumn, as they saw the reason for the smell. Bodies, long-since deceased, clad in the uniforms of Pre-War servicemen. All of them had degraded to the point of being skeletons, and were decomposed enough that Autumn wasn't even sure if the smell was coming from them, or from something else.

"Lord almighty..." Dornan muttered with an uncharacteristic softness, stepping through the door and illuminating the rest of the room. It was only a junction corridor, but there were still around a dozen bodies scattered throughout it. Some appeared to have succumbed to suffocation, starvation, or thirst, and were leaned up against walls and chairs. But for more than a few, Autumn spotted pistols in their hands, and spent shell casings on the ground next to them.

There was an unspoken understanding amongst everyone present, that the men who lived through the end of the world deserved, at the very least, a moment of silence. Even Autumn's own private doubts seemed to silence, as though they too recognized the significance of the discovery.

"...We'll get a burial detail down here for them. It's the least we can do." Autumn stated, finally shattering the ice that had them all locked in place. "We came here for a purpose gentlemen, let's not let them die in vain."

Dornan was the only one to speak up, a renewed firmness in his voice as he spoke up. "Yes Sir."

We should have expected to find bodies down here. Autumn realized, taking great care not to disturb any of them as they followed Dornan onward.

There were more skeletons along the way, some were dressed in civilian clothes, others military uniforms. As they passed through empty canteens, barracks, and bathrooms, they finally arrived at a large vault door that was cracked open.

"Ah, here we are," Dornan noted, taking the extra moment to use his enhanced strength to pull the door open more, before shining his light upon the contents. "Well I'll be..."

Autumn stood beside Dornan as his headlamp cast its reflection across entire piles of gold bars. Some were stacked in an orderly manner, others appeared to have fallen apart and spilled across the floor of the vault. A silent awe permeated the room as Autumn stepped forward, before addressing the engineers. "...I imagine that this will do. Men, fan out and see if you can find a forklift for all of this. Sergeant Major, please remain here."

"Right away Sir," One of the engineers remarked.

Dornan swiftly joined him in the vault, his headlamp quickly casting light over something else that was in the Vault. "Wait, keep your light there."

He obliged, and Autumn strode over to one of the back corners of the room, where an individual in hazmat gear lay slouched against the wall. Autumn cautiously approached them, accompanied by Dornan, who recognized the symbol on the individual's shoulder, one that Autumn had no trouble recognizing either. "Chemical Corps Sir... looks like he's holding something."

Autumn nodded, his mouth dry as a hundred thoughts raced through his mind. Speculations and fears ultimately fell out of action, as he cautiously advanced and gently pushed the fallen soldier's body upright, allowing Autumn to see the skull that lay behind the plastic screen protecting the wearer's face. As the body moved, Autumn noticed something long and metallic about to slide out of the man's lap, but he caught it before it could hit the floor.

A delusional part of his mind wanted to believe that it wasn't what he thought it was, but there was no mistaking it. Autumn's memories flashed back to the instructions and lessons he'd received from his father prior to his death, particularly those that had related to the Enclave's plans prior to the fall of the Oil Rig.

Dornan's silence was utterly deafening as Autumn stood up with the cylinder in hand, turning it around to read the label of the secure storage vial.

F. E. V. - 4

"What are we looking at?" Dornan asked, his voice laced with a rare caution, although certainly not any fear.

"The Forced Evolutionary Virus, strain number four," Autumn answered, somehow maintaining a calm demeanor as he spoke. "If memory serves, this is the variant designed for use as an aerosolized weapon, like a nerve agent. I imagine it's probably mutated a lot if it's been here since the Great War..."

It was a guess, admittedly, but Autumn had never shared his father's obsession with the FEV, nor what it could do. As a result, his understanding of the virus wasn't much greater than any other soldier's. Unfortunately, he was also likely the only man who knew much of anything, as all of the Enclave's FEV Specialists were amongst the traitors who had died at Adam's Air Force Base.

"And what are we going to do with it?" Dornan asked. Again, his voice again laced with an almost skepticism.

"See if there's any others, and secure it. We cant leave it here," Autumn answered. That much was a certainty, as regardless of whatever this particular vial of FEV might do, he wasn't about to leave it where some future scavenger might stumble across it. "It's far too dangerous for that."

"I'll have the search team keep an eye out for any others, but I imagine this soldier probably put themselves in here for a reason," Dornan reasoned. "We're lucky that this place wasn't filled with the stuff, we could've let it all out as soon as we blew this place open."

Autumn grimly nodded. "You're right... we should have been more careful, this could have ended poorly."

"Are you considering using it, sir?" Dornan bluntly asked. There was a noteworthy lack of patience in his voice, and Autumn briefly considered what the old Sergeant would have considered to be the correct answer. He was amongst the Enclave's oldest soldiers, a man who likely remembered the days of the Oil Rig far better than Autumn did, and Autumn had never been too sure about where he stood on certain sensitive issues.

From a cold, dispassionate viewpoint, the small vial which he held could potentially do more damage to the Confederacy than every atomic warhead in the Enclave's arsenal. Even if employed tactically, nerve agents had cut down America's enemies in battles throughout history. From the Second Korean War, to the Anchorage Front, and even domestic violence at home. This strain was designed specifically to be a more effective, more lethal alternative to those weapons.

On the other hand, being cold and dispassionate was what had nearly destroyed the Enclave. Autumn's predecessors had nearly exterminated the world, and he himself had nearly fallen victim to a scheme by President Eden back in the Capital Wasteland. Were it not for Peter's intervention, he'd have played a hand in genocide, intentional or not. Was he really willing to resort to such desperate measures in the name of victory?

"No," Autumn stated plainly and firmly, not allowing himself to buckle under the glare of Dornan's helmet. "We'll send whatever we can find up to Mothership Zeta, and have it sent to Big Mountain. I'm sure they'll find a better use for it than we would."

Dornan was silent for a moment, unmoving, before he gave a slow nod. When he spoke, for the first time Autumn had ever heard, his voice carried the weight and exhaustion that his age no doubt weighed upon him. "Good. This bullshit's done enough damage already."

Autumn gave a sympathetic nod. "I'm glad that we're on the same page."

In the coming hours, more engineers and Enclave soldiers would arrive at Fort Knox. While some carried away the remains of their long-deceased comrades for honorable burial, others conducted a search for any other traces of the FEV. As Dornan had suspected, however, they came up empty-handed, although they did manage to find a bit more gold during the search.

Autumn's nerves were not calmed by the thankfully easy recovery of the gold, however. Once the truck that he'd arrived in was finished recharging its battery, Autumn found himself sitting in the passenger seat, with only one thought able to bring any ease to his mind.

At least we found it before the Confederates did.