New Vegas: Sheason's Story

Chapter 162: After Action Report

"When did April'n Em say they were gonna arrive?" Cass asked, leaning back against the steps. I shrugged from my spot next to her, looking at my Pip Boy.

"Eh, give 'em five more minutes," I said, also settling into a more comfortable position on the steps.

Cass and I had dragged our tired and injured selves away from our arrival point in the middle of the street, and were now waiting for our ride on the steps leading up to the Lucky 38. I think the initial shock of two people arriving in midair above the street must have worn off by now, because not many people were paying attention to us. Not only that, but I couldn't hear any explosions distant or otherwise so Boone and the rest must have dealt with whatever Eden had sent their way. So that was good. And with the doctors on their way, there was nothing left for either of us to do except kick back for a breather.

So, that's exactly what we did.

"Well now," Cass said with a ragged cough, draping her arm over my shoulder... and pointing at the south end of the street. "Who's this big girl's blouse?" I didn't focus on what she was pointing at, at first. I was too focused on that cough.

"You sure you're alright?" Cass rolled her eyes, and playfully slapped my cheek.

"I can hold out jus' fine till the docs get here, stop bein' such a fusspot. Now look," she pointed again. "Someone's headin' this way."

It was a lot more than one someone; it was quite a few someones, in fact, and people were practically tripping over themselves to get out of the way. I saw about 10 NCR troopers approaching, all wearing armbands emblazoned with a gigantic "MP" on the side, and all armed with assault rifles. They seemed to be flanking a tall, bald black man in a nice suit. It was a mostly grey and uninteresting affair, complete with grey waistcoat, grey tie, and light grey shirt. The only splash of color was an orange flower on the lapel. If the NCR soldiers hadn't tipped me off to this guy's identity, the flower would've sealed the deal: it was a California poppy.

"Wait here," I whispered wearily to Cass, shouldering the Jury Rigger and getting off my ass with a grunt.

"Don't hurt yerself," she called after me. The NCR troops fanned out, and came to a stop about ten feet away from the 38's stairs; I noticed with a wry sense of amusement that the two securitrons guarding the entrance had moved to a defensive posture, and more robots were rolling out from inside.

"Well, well, well," the man in the suit said when he finally came to a stop. "If it isn't the proverbial Courier; the loose cannon who's been wandering around the Mojave causing chaos these last two months." I stood opposite him, folding my arms across my chest and shooting him a look of complete bored disdain.

"... I'm sorry, who are you again?" He was obviously Dennis Crocker, the NCR's ambassador to Vegas, and I knew that. I mean, I'd never met him in person, but I'd heard about him, and I was in no mood to deal with this idiot right now. So I thought I'd wind him up a bit. All he had to do was narrow his eyes to let me know that the feeling of enmity was mutual.

"You know, I'm glad I found you," he continued. "If even half of what we know about you is true, then you have done more than any other single person to destabilize this region. I'm certain you're the reason we haven't heard a peep from House lately, and I know for a fact you were responsible for turning Freeside into a warzone a week ago. And then again yesterday. And today. You certainly have a lot to answer for." I didn't even wait for him to finish before I started shaking my head and laughing.

"Heh, oh, you're adorable," I said, and I swear I could almost see the puffs of steam escape from his ears.

"Don't you dare try and mock me!" he said angrily. "Every major explosion in the last two months can be traced back to your actions, and I demand that you be held responsible for the destruction done to this city!"

"Oh, you demand!" I replied with faux indignation. "Oh, well that changes everything, doesn't it?"

"Listen here, you "

"No, you listen, Crocker," I interrupted, pointing at him. "I would love to stay and chat," I couldn't even manage to say that with a straight face, and his impotent rage was apparent. "But I've had a bit of a rough day. And really, I've been way too busy lately, what with fighting an endless string of genocidal maniacs, saving all life in the wasteland, and recovering from dealing with the aforementioned maniacs to waste time sitting down with you, talking about nothing at all. As soon as I get an opening in my schedule, I'll give you a call. But until that day?" I unfolded both arms, and gave him both birds. "Go fuck yourself."

"How dare you speak to me like that!" he shouted. "Just who in the hell do you think you are?!" The irony of a man flanked by soldiers (in a blatantly transparent attempt at posturing) while immediately barking demands was apparently lost on him.

"You already know who I am, Crocker. I'm the Courier, and perhaps I haven't made myself clear..." I started walking up to the ambassador, and the NCR troops started raising their guns in response. They all seemed to pause and lower their guns again, however, when they finally noticed the securitrons. "I've spent all of today and most of yesterday fighting power armored fascists many of whom were on the fuck-mothering Moon. I'm exhausted. I'm starving. I'm injured Cass over there is really injured! I am completely out of ammunition. AND YET..." I pounded a fist into my cybernetic palm, cracking the knuckles. "I can still kick the ass of everyone here and not even break a fucking sweat. Don't make me prove it."

Thankfully, it was around this time that the white pickup truck with the Followers logo emblazoned on the doors arrived. Most of the MPs got out of the way as April backed up the truck right to the stairs, and Emily got out, rushing over to help Cass on her feet. Hilariously, I also noticed that the Auto Doc from The Sink was here, inhabiting one of the tiny floating Big MT personality spheres.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, my ride is here," I turned on my heel, helping to pick up Cass and pour her into the back of the pickup truck. "So you and yer boys best pack your happy asses up, an' do the smart thing: get off my lawn." I didn't see what their response was to that, because I hopped in the back of the truck, sat down next to Cass, and April started driving away. As soon as we were out of sight and earshot, I let out a heavy sigh and collapsed face-first onto the truck bed next to Cass. "Fuckin' politicians..." I managed to mutter under my breath, before feeling Cass grab hold of my shoulder and give me a shake.

"You crazy motherfucker..." she said with a laugh.

It didn't take us long to get to the Mormon Fort, and Cass was being stubborn as ever, despite clearly needing both April and Emily on either side to help her stand up straight.

"I'm tellin' ya, ahm fine!" she grumbled. "Stop fussin!"

"Hogwash, missy!" Doc's voice buzzed out of the tiny metal orb hovering around her. He was scanning her with a blue light as she was carried into the Fort. "You can barely stand! I'm detecting multiple contusions, and at least one major flash burn from superheated plasma! This isn't something you can walk off, no matter how tough-as-nails you claim to be. You need medical attention! So, Ol' Doc is gonna patch you up, whether you want my help or not."

While Cass was getting the once-over by the Followers, I decided to see exactly what kind of damage the Enclave managed to do. From my understanding, they'd exclusively focused on trying to get into Freeside's north gate... but there didn't seem to be all that much damage. Or, at the very least... no more damage than usual for buildings in Freeside.

"Hey, Boone! What's the good word" I called out, spotting the sniper. He was easy enough to spot, as he was wearing the Desert Ranger armor and carrying an anti-materiel rifle; if I wanted to find out what had happened, he was the best bet. After all, Fawkes may have given some advice regarding the finer points in defending against power armored invaders, but Boone had unquestionably been in charge while I was away. He nodded as I approached, his expression hidden behind the helmet.

"You look like shit," he grunted at me.

"Thank you!" I said without a hint of sarcasm. Boone shook his head, and the two of us started walking to the gate.

"They tried to break through five times," Boone said, getting straight to the point. "None of them even got close to the wall. By the fourth wave, something had changed. It was like they had gotten desperate. Disorganized."

"That must have been around the time I deep sixed Eden..." I muttered, surveying the damage. I couldn't help but let out a low whistle, marveling at how thoroughly ripped up the world outside the Freeside gates had become. There were craters and body parts everywhere. I could see broken robots, dead power armored troops, and off in the distance I saw the still burning (or long since burned out) hulks of a few tanks, plus at least one of those combat mechs. Securitrons were rolling around the battlefield, cleaning things up and presumably collecting any tech we could salvage before anyone else could. Stripe was also bounding around in the distance. From the little I saw, it looked like he was going from tank to tank, rummaging through the burning hulks like a dog rooting through piles of garbage.

"It was a hard day down here," Boone grunted with a shrug. "But we made it through without a scratch. So I guess we've had worse."

"I'm just glad you guys are... you're... o... kay... Oh hell."

And that's pretty much the specific moment my adrenaline finally evaporated. I vaguely remembered swaying on the spot briefly, and hearing the muffled voice of Boone ask if I was alright. There was a thud, and then everything went black.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"... y'sure?" a muffled female voice cut through the darkness. It feels like I'm awake, but it's... oh, my eyes are shut. That explains why it's still dark.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Absolutely!" another familiar voice said. "In fact, I think he's waking up now."

Cautiously, I opened my eyes, trying to figure out where the fuck I was now. I was in some kind of building, on a bed somewhere... but it wasn't the 38. I didn't have my armor or weapons... but there was definitely an IV drip in my arm. If the beeping was any indication, I was in one of the makeshift hospitals the Followers had set up since I wasn't in a tent at the Fort. I grunted, trying to cough the phlegm out of my throat, and sat up. Cass was sitting on the edge of the cot to my left, with her arm in a sling and a smile on her face.

"Welcome back!" she said with a chuckle. "How d'ya feel?"

"Dizzy... sore... an' one helluva hangover..." I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and coughing again. "How long was I out this time?" I was starting to hate this habit of mine: fighting so hard and so long, that I couldn't help but pass out as soon as it was done.

"About seventeen hours. S'almost noon." She smirked. "I'm surprised yer not starvin'. When was th' last time y'ate somethin? Yesterday mornin?"

"I'm pretty sure it was breakfast on Zeta," the other familiar voice said. I turned to look... and sure enough, Christopher was standing at the edge of my cot, wearing his Vault suit and his sunglasses. I just buried my face in my hand and shook my head.

"You know... part of me doesn't want to believe you're standing here..." I started, and Chris leaned back, shrugging his shoulders.

"I can certainly understand that," he said, grinning widely. "It was, after all, quite the explosion!"

"... but I feel like I have to believe you're really standing here, because..." I half-sighed, half-chuckled, and shook my head again. "Well, because it's you. You're completely ridiculous."

"I have my moments," he shrugged again.

"What 'bout th' super soldier?" Cass asked. "That Panser-y dude?"

"Oh, yeah, he's definitely dead," Chris nodded several times. "The BFG shot to his damaged midsection blew him apart from the inside. Good riddance to bad rubbish, he will not be missed."

"So, how did you survive, anyway?" I shifted in my seat on the bed. "Like you said, it was a huge explosion. We saw the flash from the surface when the base went up in flames."

"Well, I'm not saying that it wasn't tricky," Chris held up a finger as he spoke up again. "And in all fairness, the last time I had to burn that many Fate Points to stay in one piece, I was trying to restart Project Purity while doused in lethal radiation. It was about a billion rads a second, and it almost turned me into a pile of goo! But hey, at least this time I didn't have to wait for the paid DLC to see the result of my endeavors!"

The room was silent for a few seconds, as Cass and I both tried to parse this nonsense.

"You're saying words, but it means nothing," I said, eventually. Chris looked confused for half a second, and snapped his fingers.

"OH! Right, right, I keep forgetting, you don't yeah, nevermind. I'm just talking nonsense again. Don't mind me. SO!" He clapped his hands together, and looked at the two of us eagerly. "Who's hungry? I say we all get some grub, my treat! Whaddaya say?"

Everyone was getting lunch. And I do mean everyone.

We were at that same restaurant in Freeside Arcade had taken us to a while back the 'seafood' joint because they were one of the only places in town with an open-air patio. That was the only way some of the... larger members of our little band of adventurers could join us. Thankfully, they had lots more than just mirelurk meat: that was just the specialty. They also had a really well stocked bar! The table was so full of food and drink, all laid out family style, that I almost thought it was going to buckle from the weight.

Chris, Fawkes and Sally were at one end of the table, talking with a guy I didn't recognize a black dude in sunglasses. Arcade was nearby, talking with the blonde guy from Zeta's bridge crew... what was his name again? Elliott Tercorien, that's it. Those two certainly seemed to be getting along. Raul was also nearby, talking with Moira, and I couldn't tell if the two of them were hitting it off or arguing. Veronica was with April and Emily and Julie, too, who showed up halfway through lunch. Muggy was also with them, sitting on April's shoulder as they all talked and ate. The King even dropped in to say hello briefly, with a brunette on one arm, and a redhead on the other; that said, he left in a hurry when he realized that Stripe was with us. I don't think he was quite used to the sight of the deathclaw yet, but at least (most) people had stopped screaming when they saw him walking around. Speaking of, Stripe and Sasha were on the sidewalk (because they physically couldn't fit anywhere else) eagerly tearing into half a mirelurk carcass, while a securitron with Yes Man's face was nearby, keeping watch. Roxie and Dogmeat were underfoot, snuggling together and sharing a hilariously huge chunk of brahmin beef. Buzzing around overhead like a cluster of miniature eyebots were several of the Big MT personalities, each one inhabiting one of those tiny floating metal balls.

Which just left Cass, Boone, and me. The three of us were sitting together at the far end of the table, opposite from Chris and company.

"Been meaning to ask," Boone nodded at Cass, taking a huge bite out of his sandwich. "Why the sling? You break your arm?" Cass shook her head.

"Nah, nothin' that serious. Doc just wants me t'keep it steady, till th' skin graft he used t'patch up th' plasma burn heals up. Ah should be right as rain, sometime t'morrow." She leaned back in her chair and started rubbing her arm in an almost comically exaggerated fashion. "What about you? How come you ain't wounded?"

"Because I'm just that good," Boone stated matter-of-factly, with only the barest hint of a smirk at the edge of his mouth. Cass seemed less than impressed.

"Or maybe you got off easy, cuz Shea an' I were up on th' frikk'n Moon, kickin' ass an' takin' names." Boone nodded.

"That's definitely possible," he grunted out. "But hey... at least I found out the anti-materiel rifle lives up to the name."

"Oh yeah? You bag any've those big walkin' mechs with that thing?" Cass poked at her bowl of chili, and Boone nodded. The two of them kept talking, and the words seemed to fade away from my ears into muted obscurity, until it was like I couldn't hear them at all. I was sitting at the table, sure, but I wasn't really there. I was somewhere else... somewhere far away... trying to shut out the scratching coming from inside my head.

"Shea! GO!"

My jaw clenched and I tried to ignore the sensation threatening to burrow a hole straight through my sternum. This small talk wasn't going to cut it. I needed something to distract me properly... or else my guilt would keep gnawing at me from the inside. Eat me whole.

Focus. Compartmentalize.

"Hey," I felt a firm hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. "You awake?" I looked up to see Chris standing over me, with the black dude next to him.

"Yeah..." I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "Yeah, I'm fine." Chris tilted his head, seeing through me clear as day. But I guess he didn't want to make an issue of it. "What's up?"

"I wanted you to meet a friend of mine," he gestured to the man next to him. I got up, and immediately he started shaking my hand heartily; my face was reflected in his tiny round sunglasses, and he was grinning broadly beneath a bushy, curly goatee. His outfit was simple: a black leather vest over a white t-shirt, with a black wrap on his head that had the letters "GNR" picked out in white.

"Hey-hey, man! It's good to meet you," he jabbed his thumb in Chris' direction. "I've heard a lot about you from my boy here!"

"Uh... thanks?" I said uncertainly. His voice sounded familiar... "I'm sorry, you've got me at a bit of a loss here." He just started grinning even more broadly than before.

"The look on your face says it all!" While he spoke, Chris groaned and buried his face in his hand. "You're wondering who the heck this guy is and why you should care. Well, prepare to be enlightened! My name... is Three Dog! Jockey of discs, and teller of truths! I'm the host and sole producer of the finest show ever to grace the wasteland's airwaves: Galaxy News Radio!"

"Please, forgive the flashy intro," Chris chuckled, grabbing Three Dog by the shoulder. "It's been years since he's had the chance to give somebody that spiel."

"Hey, when you fight the Good Fight, you gotta give it all you got, and never ever hold back!" Three Dog started laughing. "Always dazzle 'em... and spread the word."

"Oh!" I finally put two and two together. "I get it. No wonder I recognized your voice, you're that guy from the radio, aren't you? I heard it playing when I was on Zeta yesterday." Three Dog folded his arms across his chest and started nodding sagely.

"Of course you heard it on Zeta! Where else do you think my broadcast studio has been the last two years? But that's not why I'm here." He reached out and grabbed me by the shoulder. "I'm here because I wanted to thank you for helping out my boy here. The way this cat tells it, he couldn't have done it without you. He wouldn't even be standing here if not for you."

"Fairly certain he did more than me..." I said, chuckling nervously and scratching the back of my head.

"Balderdash and chicanery, my friend!" Chris exclaimed with a hearty chuckle, slapping me on the back (and knocking the wind out of me). "If you hadn't been there, I would probably still be up there gibbering and crying about how the Enclave getting their hands on Zeta tech was my fault. Plus, it took all three of us working together to bring Panzer down. All the times he and I squared off, and I was never able to kill him on my own." Chris turned to Three Dog and snapped his fingers. "But anyway, there was something else you wanted to ask him, wasn't there?"

"Oh, right! Thanks man," Three Dog patted Chris on the chest and turned back to me. "Listen, I don't know if you know this, but I'm always looking for more music to play on Galaxy News. She's my baby, and when I first started, I only had, like, five songs. Played over and over and over again, even the best song gets stale. And this big lug tells me you've got the tunes that no one and I mean no one has heard since long before the bombs! Think you can help a brother out?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Yeah, I think I can help. Hey, V!" I called out, and Veronica perked her head up from across the table. "You got a minute?"

About an hour later, our massive cluster of people and animals had finished with lunch and were walking down Vegas Boulevard back to the 38. We hardly ran into any crowds, although that might be thanks to Stripe lumbering along beside us. Everyone who wasn't us was giving us a wide berth. When we got close to the site of the Enclave's first Deep Strike attack, Chris spoke up.

"Thanks again for all your help," Chris and I were in the back of our group, away from everyone else. "What I said earlier, about how I couldn't have done it without you? I meant every word. Hell, if not for you, we wouldn't have even found that Moon base, and if you hadn't brought that piece of electro-punk techno wizardry, Eden almost certainly would've gotten away again."

"Are we absolutely certain they're gone for good this time?" I asked. Chris shrugged.

"I think they're pretty much done, except for a few stragglers. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time the Enclave came back from the dead. But... Yeah. We should be good. For the rest of the story, if nothing else."

I eyed him curiously for a second, but didn't say anything. I just sighed and shook my head as we kept walking. Everyone was talking except the two of us in the back. The sounds all around me started blurring together into white noise...

"Shea! GO!"

I gulped hard and grit my teeth.

"Hey, uh..." Chris placed a metal hand on my shoulder, and seemed a bit unsure of himself. "I'm... I'm sorry about your friend. I didn't... Y'know, I didn't want to say anything when we were up there, but... uh..." At first, I wanted to deny that I was even thinking about her, or about that, or about how I left her behind... but I knew it was written all over my face. So I just clenched my jaw tighter and shook my head.

"This is the second time I've lost her..." I rasped out softly. Chris patted me on the shoulder.

"I know the feeling. It's never easy, when you lose someone you care about..." I looked up at Chris curiously, and his face was practically carved from granite. He looked about as hollow as I felt. But then he shook it off and cleared his throat. "Look... listen... uh... if there's anything you need help with and I mean anything at all don't... y'know, don't hesitate to ask."

I could almost feel the gears inside my head start turning from that offer. And it didn't take me long to think of something.

"How many people can Zeta teleport at the same time?" I asked. Chris suddenly halted in his tracks, and tapped his chin, pondering the question. I stopped as well, and the rest of the group continued on, oblivious to the two of us no longer following.

"Uh... I'm not sure. I know Sally can do some impressive stunts with stuff like my power armor, and then there's that teleport circuit I have wired into my Pip Boy that links to all my weapons and ammo in the Hammerspace armory..."

"Can you give me some rough numbers, at least?" I asked. Chris continued to tap his chin.

"I dunno. Ten, maybe twenty people at once?" He shrugged. "I mean, Zeta has more than one teleport bay, but Sally's the only one really qualified to operate it for the tricky stuff. We'd need accurate coordinates for whoever we wanted to transport, and we'd need to make sure the pads are clear before getting anyone else."

"So, several thousand people would be out of the question?" Chris did a double take.

"Uh... yeah, sorry. That's a tall order, even for me."

"Fuck," I muttered angrily under my breath. Chris regarded me curiously for a few seconds... and then he seemed to understand.

"You had to leave someone behind, didn't you?" I nodded solemnly.

"Her name is Melody," I said, hanging my head. "She... she can't be more'n ten or twelve. Just a little girl, enslaved by Caesar's Legion... She and about a thousand other people. Maybe more. Even if I get her out, there are just... there are too many other slaves just like her, living under the boot-heel of the Legion." I looked up at Chris with a steely expression. "That's why I'm here, and why I'm doing this whole 'Courier' thing. If I don't, then no one else will. I'm going to wipe out the Legion, even I have to murder every last one of them with my bare hands. And I'm going to free every last one of the slaves, even if I have to bring an army with me to do it..."

Chris and I stood in the middle of the street in sullen silence for a few seconds before he finally started nodding.

"Man... I hate 'big-picture' problems like this. You're damned, no matter what you do. You try and get the slaves out piecemeal, one at a time, and the slavers are likely to start offing them once they realize what you're after. But if you wait too long..." he sighed, shaking his head. "I've had to deal with a few of those no-win situations in the past... like my time in The Pitt. That is never fun." I nodded in response.

"Yeah," I grunted out. "Army it is, then." Chris chuckled, flashing a smile.

"Well, look on the bright side. The thing about 'big-picture' solutions is they tend to stick. Take what comfort you can from that," he nodded at me. "Got any small picture problems you still need to take care of?"

Once again, the gears in my head started to turn.

"You know... There is one thing I've been meaning to do..."

Lightning crackled and fizzled around me as I stepped off the teleport pad and into The Sink. Every step hit the floor with a resounding thud, thanks to all my armor and weapons loading me down.

"Welcome home, sir," Jeeves' mellifluous tones echoed through The Sink. "I trust that sir's sojourn to the lunar surface was tolerable?"

"That's certainly one way to put it..." I leaned against Jeeves' console, and watched the holographic bars spin slowly in place, bathing the room in blue light. "Listen, I got a question. You remember the day I got my arm sliced off?" Immediately, the bars shifted color and twitched erratically.

"I should think, sir, that sir would be trying to forget that particularly violent and wholly unpleasant incident." I shrugged, drumming my fingers against the side of the console.

"Eh. At this point, it was just another day at the office." Again, the bars shifted strangely. "Look, here's what I want to know: when Roxie dragged me back here, she brought the weapons I was carrying. There was a sniper rifle in that collection, and I left it with you for safekeeping. Where'd you put it?"

The lightning fizzled around me again, depositing me onto a familiar street of cobbled stone. My skin immediately started burning, and a foul smell flooded into my nostrils. The air was thick like soup, stinging and prickling me as it swirled around, thanks to the teleporter displacing the air.

Everything around, from the buildings ringing the square to the fountain right in front of me, was tainted by the red cloud. The only thing untainted was the glowing blue hologram of the leggy starlet, standing defiantly on top of the fountain and glowing radiantly like a beacon. Behind her, the tower of the Sierra Madre loomed like a monolith of red stone.

The Doppler pulsating sounds from the ragged breath of the Ghost People echoed off every surface. They must have seen me arrive you could hardly miss it, after all. Which meant they were in the shadows. Watching me.

"Hello, gorgeous," I walked up to the edge of the fountain, and shrugged the Jury Rigger into my hands. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was hell."

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